21. Chapter 21
There is something unsettling about the ink-black pool. She tries to ignore it, keep her mind on the deep night sky, the warmth of Kylo's chest at her back, the press of his chin in her hair. A balance exists in this place - Kylo's dream? - that subdues the malevolence radiating from the water. His fingers dance down her back, tracing patterns on her skin in the half-light cast by distant stars. Something shifts, wrenches, and his lazy caresses cease, his easy calm replaced by roiling, churning fear.
His hands fall to his sides but his thoughts still reach for her. Where are you? Where did you go?
I’m right here , she tries to say, tries to push the words into his mind, but they stick, refuse to leave her head.
Rey? Rey!
Kylo scrambles to his hands and knees, moving through her without sensing her as he passes. He scrabbles, frantic, fingers skittering along the featureless black ground. The pool gurgles and boils up from stygian depths to burst its banks. The darkness seeps across the ground, over his hands, erasing him to the elbow.
It seethes around her ankles, rising to her knees. Stand up! She tries to say, tries to scream, but nothing happens. She grabs at him as he fumbles in the flood, but her hand passes through him. Panic enfolds her as the darkness laps at his biceps, sweeps in a jet wave over his back before rising past his shoulders to lick wetly at his neck.
He can sense that something is wrong now and he rises to his knees but he still won’t stand and she can do nothing but watch in terror as he is swallowed by the blackness. He struggles, strains to keep his face above the surface, but she feels him going numb as it reaches the corners of his mouth, his ears. His eyes, wide with horror, are still searching for her and she’s right here! She screams, mute, as the water courses over his nose, submerging him completely. Her lungs burn as he struggles for breath, darkness dancing on the edge of her vision, spreading raggedly until his face is blotted out entirely.
The ground falls away and when her vision clears, the scene has changed. Everything is sterile white, cold under fluorescent lights. Kylo Ren stares, unseeing. Black hair, black eyes, black bruises, red wounds are the only variation in the colorless room. The open gash across his face oozes weakly, half healed and raw. It’s such a part of who he is now that she barely notices it in life. Seeing it so fresh makes her sick. She had done that to him. He jerks to his feet and she moves instinctively to catch him but he falls through her outstretched arms, staggering blindly into the hall, barefoot and shirtless. She follows him, unsure of what would happen if they separated in a dream, unwilling to leave him in this state. The hall warps.
He’s huddled at the foot of the dais, hands braced on knees, head bowed so low his dark curls brush the stone floor. From this angle she can see the raw carmine mess where the bowcaster bolt pierced his side, an ugly tangle of burns spanning from ribs to hip, a stitched gash the size of her clenched fist in his side.
“You failed ,” Snoke’s voice carves agony across her awareness. “Against an untrained runt and a defective trooper.”
His head lowers to the stone and Kylo Ren says nothing in his defense.
Snoke flicks a hand and Kylo arches back and then slams face first into the stone with a sick thud. “I did not tell you to fail, to lose the girl, the droid, and the primary weapon.”
Pain blinds her, a broken nose, split lips, burning side all vie for her attention over the laceration of Snoke’s wrath.
“Look at me, Kylo Ren.”
Kylo’s arms shake as he lifts his head, every muscle screaming as he stares up at the alien face Blood trickles down his chin, splattering the floor out as he pants for breath.
“I have never been as disappointed in an apprentice as I am in you now, Kylo Ren. I am, in fact, at a loss as to how to properly convey my displeasure. I could kill you, quite slowly, of course, but I do not think that would be enough. Had you anything, anyone in this galaxy left to love, I would hunt it down. I would have you rip it apart, piece by piece, and offer me it's heart. But you do not, and so here we are.” Snoke drawls as tongues of white lightning flicker around his raised hand and he turns from the prostate man to study the play of Force.
“I will do better next time, Master.” Kylo spits scarlet.
“You assume there will be a next time, boy.” The lightning sprouts branches and grows. It reaches towards Kylo, electric shadows cavorting along the high walls until it hovers before his eyes. The fingers twitch with want and Snoke sighs. “I suppose even broken things have their uses. ” The hand comes down on his shoulder and the world rips in half. Rey falls to her knees, helpless and shaking as the pain wracks her body. Long seconds of his raw screaming and convulsions pass as an eternity.
It ends. Rey can barely see through the tears as Snoke stands and descends from his seat. Kylo gasps, deep ragged sounds, as the spasms taper off. The monster kneels before his apprentice, long white fingers fisting in lank black hair, yanks the man up so Kylo Ren hangs limp, a puppet on a fraying string.
She doesn’t want to see what happens next.
The world spins and Snoke looks up, at her. “A visitor?” Kylo Ren turns to her with another flare of agony, eyes like empty pits going wide with terror. They can see her They can see her.
Snoke glances down into the face of his apprentice, then back up at Rey before he drops Kylo to the floor. “How convenient.” He smiles, crooks a finger, and Rey is dragged forward by her throat, toes dangling inches above the floor. He strolls a slow circle around her as she fights to breathe, to feel for the Force. “Get up, Kylo Ren. It appears there will be a next time, after all.”
He stands, his eyes empty, and wipes blood away with the back of his hand as he crosses to stand beside Snoke. “What do you wish, Master?”
Snoke grins, “Piece by piece.”
The Force knows this isn’t real, that dreams aren’t real in the same way waking life is. It doesn’t stop the terror and disgust that rises in her throat, doesn’t stop the searing torment when it starts.
It’s a dream. She binds herself to that thought, the last point of light in this realm of darkness, and it grows brighter. This is a dream.
WAKE UP.
Rey’s eyes fly open and she’s back in the bed, warm under all the blankets, snug beside a frozen Kylo. She sits up, twisting to look at him, bracing her weight on the pillow beside his head and rises onto her knees. A thin sheen of sweat gleams on his face and she can see his teeth clench, tendons standing out from his neck. She has no idea if he’s awake or not.
His eyes spring open, the same haunted emptiness from the dream staring back her without recognition. There’s motion in her peripheral vision and Rey gets her arms up in time to block a wild punch to the jaw, knocks his arm away and straddles his stomach, pinning his arms under her knees when he struggles to unseat her.
“Kylo! Wake up!” She bears down with her weight on his chest and the Force surges through her, through their connection at the command. She won’t allow him to stay trapped in that dream, not when she knows she can influence it. Wake up!
The vacant stare snaps up to her face at the sound of his name, and he turns his head away, pants rapid, weak breaths, and shakes, silent. His hands clench and unclench by her ankles. Fear and pain scream in her mind and her ears ring with his unuttered howls.
“Kylo, look at me.” She takes his jaw in her hand, brings his eyes to hers. “It was a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.” With her other hand, she strokes his cheek, trying to bridge the chasm of terror in his mind.
“You were there.” Kylo’s voice is deeper, more ragged than she’s ever heard it. “He- I-” He tries to flinch away from her touch.
“I’m fine,” Rey says sharply, increasing the pressure of the grip on his jaw, pushing back as he shakes under her hand. He doesn’t get to hide from this. “You didn’t hurt me. It was a dream .”
“You screamed.” There’s an ugly twist in his voice, loathing and longing blended together. “You will scream. For days .” There’s a sick certainty in his mind, a poison belief that they will fail and this will be their future.
Rey curls her lip at that, leaning over him until the world narrows to just the two of them, nose to nose. “That’s not going to happen. We are going to kill Snoke, remember? He can’t do anything to me, to either of us, when he’s rotting in the ground.” She relaxes her hold on him and pushes the hair out of his eyes, smooths her thumb down the side of his face. “Breathe,” she murmurs. “Fear is clouding your mind. It’s going to kill you, kill both of us, if you let it. Don’t let him win.”
“Are you telling me there’s no emotion, there is only peace?” He tries to laugh but it comes out a shaky groan and he reaches for her, clutching at her thin shoulder until she feels the pain echo in his head. “I’ve heard that one before, and I still don’t buy it.”
Rey breathes slowly, reaching for her elusive point of balance to guide him, both of them, out of the darkness. “Being afraid won’t make it hurt any less if something happens. You only die once, however fearful you are.” She eases off of him and into a meditative position as their link warms, terror abating. He runs his hands down her back. It’s a gentle, trusting gesture, a step back from the edge of an abyss. The contact enhances her sense the Force around them, rich and strong.
She feels him sit up beside her, his knee warm and solid against hers. When it comes, the shared visualization is as natural as breathing. The center is there, the Force is around them, and it feels right . Rey opens her eyes and glances up at his face. Open your eyes if you can hear me.
Dark eyes flick open and Kylo nods, the practical applications of this communication materializing in her head as the thought forms in his. Think of a number.
Rey rolls her eyes and complies.
Six. Through the bond, his certainty is absolute. The less attention we need for this the more useful it will be in combat.
This is going take all the fun out of arguing. A rusty laugh echoes in her head as she switches back to speaking aloud. “What else can we try?”
The bond darkens with his disapproval at her switch. Have you tried any Force levitation? Calling things to you?
Rey shakes her head and, and, anticipating the command, turns her focus on the items arranged on the shelf by the door. The box catches her attention, light sliding on the polished surfaces and she gathers the Force to her, wills the box to rise up into the air. There’s a faint clunk as the box rolls over in a halfhearted response. Pressing her lips into a thin line, pushing Kylo’s sudden amusement to the back of her mind, she tries again. “I can do this.” She pre-empts the suggestion coalescing in their connection. “Don’t rush me.”
Don’t be so stubborn . Resignation, recognition of the futility of such instruction, drifts through their connection as Kylo adjusts his position and rests his hand against hers.
The contact prickles, but there’s strength in the touch and just a whisper of experience. It flicks a switch in her head that she didn’t know was there and this time, the box rises steadily into the air.
There is a click, a hum, and a bright lavender light fills the room, leaking out from under the raised designs.
Her fingers tighten around his and Kylo grips back, excitement bouncing between them as together they hold the box aloft with the Force. “Call it to you,” he rumbles.
She calls on more of his strength and lets her want for the beautiful mysterious thing guide the Force. It rockets towards them faster than her eye can follow, smacking into her hand hard enough to sting. The box thrums as she cradles it, and she turns to Kylo so he can see as she lifts the lid where it hangs half-open.
The light blinds them both for a moment and Rey blinks spots out of her vision. The violet light merges into a small, wizened alien woman with wide eyes and ears on a head too large for her delicate body.
She sits, legs crossed in meditation, and gives Rey a raking look. “So someone finally figured it out. Don’t make them like they used to, eh? Who are you then, little Force user? Who found my holochron?”
“A holochron,” Kylo murmurs, a feverish awe flaring in his mind. “You are the guardian, then?”
“Guardian, creator,” the woman swishes her hand impatiently, “that’s just taxonomy.” She glares at Kylo for a moment. “And I’m not talking to you , Mister Dark Side. The girl heard my call, shed her blood, and guided the power you share. You’re just along for the ride, pal.” She cranes her head up at Rey. “Girl! Do you have a name?”
Swallowing, Rey nods. “Rey. My name is Rey. And he’s Kylo.”
“Rey? That’s a good name for a youngster. Quick on the tongue, easy to shout.” She nods in satisfaction. “They called me Yali, back when I was a sprout. That name will do as well as any other.” The projection climbs to her feet and dusts off her simple belted robe. “Now, where to begin with you, child?”
She’s not sure if it’s a question that need an answer. “At the beginning?”
Yali cackles, rubs her hands together until her knuckles crack. “Oh, we’re going to get along like a house on fire, girl of mine! Rey. Yes. The beginning. Where everything starts. I was a Knight here once, what is probably quite a long time ago. Do not tell me the date!” She jabs a finger at Kylo without taking her eyes off Rey. “It doesn’t matter and it would just depress me. The ones who say time means nothing to the dead should just try it .” Snorting, the projection shakes her head and then continues. “You have a knack with the Force, girl. I can teach you mastery. Him too,” She begrudges Kylo the acknowledgement. “Not my first choice of a partner - the only way to make dark-siders go forwards is by pushing them backwards - but,” she shrugs, “That’s your problem, not mine.”
“What can you teach us?” Kylo interjects, prickling at the casual dismissal.
“Battle meditation,” Yali snips. “The two of you have an excellent bond; there is much I can teach you about that too, but you’ll figure it out eventually. No,” she nods to herself. “It must be battle meditation. It was a dying art when I was a Master, and it must be forgotten by now.”
“Battle meditation?” The words spark a memory, swords of red and blue crossed at the mouth of a chasm, a scene lit in shades of lavender, a deep quiet and an extrasensory understanding of unfamiliar combat.
“You have felt it.” Yali nods with a smile that stretches her face. “Yes! It is a powerful trance that provides insight into the moves of your opponents and companions. It can fuel or diminish the will to battle on an enormous scale.” Her eyes shine with the memory. “I commanded thousands from a flagship, my children. Through the Force, I was with every pilot, every soldier, and I let them to victories beyond imagining.”
“You bonded with thousands ?” Rey can’t imagine around what that must have been like.
Yali dismisses the question with a derisive shake of her head. “Not a chance, kid. You don’t need to link with someone to guide them in battle meditation. Wouldn’t work on opponents otherwise, right? They don’t need to be Force sensitive either, though it helps. No.” She takes the comfortable stance of one prepared to stand and lecture for hours. “No, working with a bond partner gives you a head start, but it’s no limitation once you achieve some level of competency. Now, attend…”