Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
'𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭'
━━ -ˋˏ★ˎˊ- ━━
... STARKILLER BASE, ILUM
IN THE ABSENCE of sunlight, the planet had turned dark as a winter solstice. The reactor core was burning into smoldering, melted metal, and there was no chance the laser would still be able to fire. She and Chewie could have left with the rest of the Resistance, but Lyra needed to find Finn and Rey.
And there was also a matter of Kylo Ren's unsettled blood debt.
Rey and Finn had both taken off in a mad dash to the forest, scared out of their minds after witnessing what Kylo Ren had just done. Lyra's disbelief that verged on anger was keeping her sane. So she ran, limbs numb and hair whipping her in the face. She stumbled over half-buried logs, staggered on ice slick as glass, and forced herself onward into the skeletal blue shadows of the woods.
"Finn! Rey!" Lyra called breathlessly, finally within earshot.
They both stopped and turned, giving her time to catch up. Rey's wind-burned cheeks were streaked with cold tears. "Where's Chewie?"
"He's getting the Falcon. We don't have much time to get out of here, and we need to leave before—"
An otherworldly shriek cut her off. In the long blue shadows of the forest, it was unmistakable. Kylo Ren had managed to drag himself all the way into the trees. The bastard had done it again.
"We're not finished," he growled, voice lower, almost human without the distortion of his mask. His face gleamed slick with sweat and blood. The absence of the helmet made it worse—Ben Solo's features still lived beneath the fury, a face that should have belonged to someone else entirely.
"You're a monster," Rey spat. She stepped forward, shoulders squared.
They stood in perfect, accidental formation. Finn to Rey's right, gripping his blaster rifle, and Lyra standing to her left, glaring ahead at the glowing red saber.
"It's just us now," Kylo Ren told them. "Han Solo can't save you."
Lyra, breathing heavily, watched as he hit himself right where Chewie had shot him. It was sickening. He was using the pain to keep his senses sharp and the dark side strong.
Something snapped inside her. Before she thought better of it, Lyra lunged forward, rage and instinct leading her charge. But Ren was faster—his arm shot out like a whip, hand clawed.