These Violent Delights

Chapter 38: You Failed Me

Well, at least it's not Canto Bight.

But Oga's Cantina in Black Spire Outpost didn't make it on Kylo's top five favorite places in the galaxy, either. He was only here at Kitten's request, who had been trying to get him to come here forever now. He was going to say no, but she insisted he owed her after last month's mission on Hoth when she was stuck inside the Night Buzzard with him and his knights for five days.

While he didn't necessarily blame her, it had only been ten minutes since their arrival, and he knew he'd fucked up by caving and agreeing to come here. It was loud and cramped and smelly, and not unlike the front room in Pryka's Pleasure House, the locals here just looked...sticky. Especially the Ishi Tib bartender that was glaring at them.

"Drink," came his guttural bark to Kitten. "Whaddya want?"

Kylo glowered at the alien and his huge, snail-like eyes and nose that resembled a bird's beak. It was rather dark in the cantina, but he could still see just how grotesque he was. He had a filthy apron on, missing teeth, and a wart the size of a grapefruit between his eyes. For the life of him, the Supreme Leader couldn't stop staring at it. I think this is the ugliest creature I have ever seen.

Per the usual, Kitten didn't look bothered in the least bit. "Oooooh, hi, hello." She smiled up at him, moving to the rhythm of the music. "Can I have a moof juice and vodka, please?"

He grunted at her, then set his eyes on his knights. "Drinks. Or are those masks stuck on there?"

The Knights of Ren didn't react, but Kylo could feel Vicrul's distaste for this particular bartender, no doubt recalling all the times he had to deal with him while completing his undercover reconnaissance here. In their collective intimidating silence, they repositioned casually, fanning out in the large, half-circle booth they all sat at. They somehow managed to all fit on the bench, with Kitten sandwiched between him and Ushar at one end of the booth. The colorful, alternating lights hanging from above gently shimmered off their helmets and black battle gear—a stark juxtaposition to the deadly weapons sitting at their feet.

"What they meant to say is, no, thank you." Kitten rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at all of them. "They're working. And very, very salty about it."

The bartender made a disgruntled sound before turning toward Kylo, looking down at him with a scowl. "You. Whaddya want?"

The Supreme Leader just stared at him. It was strange being met with such a lack of respect, yet this man knew who he was. And he was still choosing to treat him as such. It pissed Kylo the fuck off. But tonight was Kitten's night, and he doubted she'd appreciate it if he beheaded the man in charge of the drinks. So he played nice.

"Whiskey." He cleared his throat. "On the rocks."

The alien nodded his big ugly head, belched loudly, and walked away. Kylo grimaced, but next to him, Kitten threw her head back and laughed. "Oh my gods, you should see your face right now."

He threw her a side-eye. "Oh?"

"Mmmhm." She put her elbows on the table to rest her chin in her hands, looking at him. "You look so...out of place. It's kinda hilarious."

Kylo ignored her, glancing around the cantina with a sour taste in his mouth. They had chosen a booth tucked into a dark corner, but people were still everywhere. Laughing, chatting, dancing...all of them were too close for comfort. While Kitten had nearly died of boredom from the isolation on Hoth, he would much rather be there right now—miserable snowstorms and lethal wampas and all.

But no, she had insisted on coming back to Black Spire Outpost after their brief visit a while back, when Pryde had interrupted their flying lesson with the promise of intel. While he wasn't mistaken, and the old Rebel Alliance base on Hoth was emitting a faint signal, it didn't take long for Kylo and his knights to assess what was really going on in that frozen, decaying bunker—the outdated equipment had simply gone haywire. Skywalker wasn't there like they had hoped, meaning all five days spent cramped in the Night Buzzard were for absolutely nothing.

Well, not for nothing, Kylo mused, eyeing Kitten as she eagerly leaned forward to retrieve her drink. The bartender slid his whiskey over, and he caught it without looking, bringing it to his lips as he continued to adore the woman next to him. She was still moving to the beat as she sucked down her drink, looking all around with an unmistakable light in her eyes. Contagiously happy.

It was intoxicating seeing her like this, as was the way that collar looked wrapped around her pretty little throat. Over the last few weeks, it was such a distraction whenever she wore it, Kylo had to consistently remind himself to look at her face when she spoke. But that, too, was problematic, since every time they made eye contact, he was reminded of the way she stared at him right before she brought her sweaty face to his, kissing him like she never had before.

Love, love, love.

Kylo swallowed, eyes dropping from her as he focused on his drink. She hadn't known that he had slipped into her mind that night on Hoth. He wasn't trying to invade her privacy, but the way she had clutched him with tears spilling down her face made him worry that he had hurt her. She'd never looked at him with so much emotion before. The warmth emanating from her was powerful, but so was the fear and pain. He entered her mind expecting the worst, but instead, all he felt was love.

Rubbing at his temples, Kylo ground his teeth together as the upbeat music in the cantina started knocking on the inside of his head. It amplified the alarms barraging his skull from his own complicated relationship with that word. Love. The sentiment sent reverberations throughout his body, but unlike the last time he thought about it, it didn't make him recoil. It made him feel lighter, albeit fucking terrified. Because now, a captor falling in love with his prisoner was no longer an unsolvable predicament. Not when that prisoner felt the same way—hence why he was fucking terrified.

An elbow dug into his rib cage. "Mr. Supreme Leadeeeerrr, helloooooo," Kitten sang, his obnoxious little brat. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Leaving this place," Kylo said, pretending to be distracted while swirling his drink, watching his whiskey lick up the sides of the glass.

She groaned. "Don't be such a sour puss. You said we get to have fun tonight. So can you try not to be such a giant boner kill for once in your life?"

Slowly, he looked at Kitten, the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Boner...kill?"

"Mhm," she hummed, moving with the music in the small space between him and Ushar. "Let's have a good night. Oooh, I know. Maybe we can dance later? After I get you shitfaced, of course."

He frowned. "I don't dance."

"Oh, come on," she teased, playfully tugging at his arm. "I think it would be fun."

"I don't dance. But you can." He nodded toward the pile of moving, sweaty bodies. "Go. Have fun."

"You'll let me dance?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow at him. She gestured at his knights. "Without you or one of these psychos breathing down my neck?"

A few of them laughed, while the others remained silent. Since Kylo still wasn't certain if Officer Bryx had acted entirely alone in his attempt to take Kitten's life, his knights had been on a constant rotation protecting her. That, coupled with some of them still trying to recover from being stuck with her on their shuttle for those five straight days, they weren't happy about being here without being able to drink. He didn't blame them.

Kylo pursed his lips. "Will you try to escape?"

"Right now?" She batted her lashes at him. "Of course not, my dear Supreme Leader. I haven't had time to spike your drink yet."

"Kitten."

"Kylo," she mocked. He stared at her before putting his hand over her face, a Force command on the tip of his tongue. She flinched back from him, bumping into Ushar as she did. "Wait, wait! I hate when you do that. Seriously. I promise I won't do anything but dance. Will you just...trust me?"

The Supreme Leader considered her request. The way things were headed, he did trust her, and he knew she trusted him, too. But he assumed she would escape if she had the chance, although there wasn't really any possibility of that happening tonight. Not with Pryde and Kylo's 709th Legion crawling all over Batuu and the additional infantry troops General Hux had sent upon their arrival. And most certainly not with all of his knights under the same roof. Besides, he couldn't fathom taking that smile off her face.

Kylo dropped his hand. "Fine."

Her eyes lit up. "Yay!" She clapped excitedly and took one last swig of her drink. "Now move your giant-ass self, so I don't have to crawl over you."

Kylo sipped his whiskey. The idea of Kitten crawling across his lap stirred some much-welcomed feelings within him, easing his acidic mood. All he did was look at her, his lips turning up into a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Seriously?"

He patted his thighs, loving the way she scowled at him. Loving even more how she straddled him as she tried to leave, giving Kylo the perfect opportunity to pull her close. But nothing could prepare him for what she did instead. After he gave her a kiss, she broke away from him with a wicked smile on her lips, then twisted around to crawl over each and every one of his knights.

They all grunted and groaned as she wriggled over them—no doubt trying to squash their balls in the process—putting their hands up to make it very clear that they were not touching her. By the time she successfully made it to the other side, she clambered to her feet, laughing hysterically. Kylo only glared at her, making her even giddier as she blew him a kiss and pranced her way to the dancefloor.

Over the next hour, Kitten was having the time of her life as she swayed beneath the glow of ever-changing lights. She stayed near the table at all times, dancing and talking and just existing. Watching her enjoy herself was the pick-me-up he needed and made him consider something he thought about often—if she wasn't his prisoner first, would it always be like this? Happy, normal? Or was the more complicated path they first stumbled down meant for them? Kylo didn't have a chance to come to a conclusion before Kitten sauntered over, face flushed and out of breath as she looked for the cocktail she drank a long time ago.

She pouted when she couldn't find it on the table. "Hey, where did my other drink go?"

Kylo cocked a brow. "You finished it."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He pushed a water glass in her direction. "Drink this instead."

"Fine. But only because I want to. Not because you're making me."

Kylo's lip twitched up. Brat. "Whatever you say, Kitten."

She took a noisy gulp before putting the glass down, then gestured for him to move over. "I wanna sit."

Kylo stood up. "Actually, it's time to leave."

She frowned and quickly took his spot, plopping down. "But I'm hungry. Can we..." She kept talking, but Kylo couldn't hear her anymore. He was zoned out. Frozen. A spark flooded his senses and lit his cells on fire. All around him, his knights sat up straight, the energy shifting so violently that even Kitten noticed. "Uhm, what's going on? You look—"

"Quiet." Kylo held up a hand, taking a few steps into the crowd. His eyes traveled around the cantina as he tugged on the faint, yet unmistakable Force signature that was trying to pull him outside. A low hum buzzed in his ears, drowning out the general busyness of the bar as a distinct, distorted voice taunted him from afar.

"Ben."

Kylo's heart stopped. Then nearly beat out of his chest. He knew that voice. That voice belonged to Luke Skywalker. Ripping toward the booth, he thrust a finger at his knights. "Find him. Bring him to me alive."

"Yes, Master Ren." They all started to slide out, reaching for their weapons.

Kitten glanced between him and his knights. "Uh, Kylo, what's going on?"

"Stay here," he ordered through a tense jaw. "Wait for me."

She started to stand up. "But—"

Kylo did not have the time for this. He placed a hand over her face. "You will not move from this seat."

Her face relaxed. "I will not move from this seat."

He pivoted to the Stormtroopers hanging back by the wall, barking an order at them. "Watch her."

"Yes, sir!"

Spinning around, the Supreme Leader hastened through the cantina. People dove out of his way, gasping as he and the Knights of Ren plowed through them. But he didn't care if they were making a scene. He barely even noticed them. All he could focus on was Luke's energy calling to him, waiting for him, and he ran the moment he was out of the bar, his knights dispersing in different directions behind him to begin their hunt. His boots pounded against the pavement as he tore past Pryde's recruiting station, cutting through Merchant Row until it spat him out near Dok-Ondar's Den of Antiquities. The rest of Black Spire Outpost was just a hectic blur as he pushed forward, following the Jedi's energy as it claimed all of his senses, dominating them as he chanted to himself with each passing spring of his feet.

Luke is here. Luke is here.

It wasn't until the Supreme Leader made it to a line of trees at the edge of town that he slowed down. With his hand hovering over his lightsaber on his belt, he entered the woodlands, following Luke's voice that was louder now, more prominent.

"Ben."

Crunch. Kylo's footsteps were deafening in the otherwise dark, quiet forest. The suns were just going down, shooting bursts of orange brilliance through the towering branches hovering above him. He followed the voice, the feeling, until he was spat out into a large, flat clearing, its perimeter littered with trees. Cautiously, he moved to the center and closed his eyes. As the suns battered his face with their mocking warmth, he took a deep breath and connected with the Force. It wasn't long before he felt him. "Luke."

Behind him, Kylo heard a twig snap. "Nephew."

The Supreme Leader's back stiffened, his fists clenched by his sides as his eyes slowly opened. With anger welling in his chest, threatening to expand and burst within him, he turned around to sync gazes with the last Jedi. The frail last Jedi, he thought, as he took in the dark bags under Luke's eyes and his unkempt hair and graying beard. His thin body was wrapped in brown robes, his lightsaber tucked into his belt. But with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet slightly apart, he looked entirely at ease in his aging body—confident. It infuriated Kylo.

"Where are the others?" he spat, whipping his head around the clearing. "I want them to watch you die."

"The others?" Luke gestured around the empty field. "It's just you and me, Ben."

"Don't call me that."

"Ah, of course. My apologies." Luke dipped into a mocking bow. A smile lined his lips as he straightened his spine. "I believe congratulations are in order, Supreme Leader."

Kylo took a step closer toward him. "Why Batuu? After all this time, why show your face here?"

"I heard the bar was a hoot." He shrugged, his gaze dragging along the trees. "And after running from my problems for so long..." he paused to make eye contact with him, "I am parched."

Kylo's nostrils flared. "Do not make me ask again."

Luke sighed and veered to his right, taking lazy steps toward him. "I'm here because I never left. I've been here for months now, ever since I made the call to the Order."

Kylo mimicked his movements so that they were circling each other. "Why show your face now, old man?"

"Why did it take you so long to show your face?" Luke challenged, an infuriatingly cocky smirk on his lips. "You put the pieces together quite quickly. I know you did. Why else would you have stationed those buffoons downtown under the guise of a recruitment center?"

"I had more important things to tend to," Kylo seethed as they continued their dance around the meadow. "I know you've accessed the vergence on Exegol. Tell me, why would a Jedi seek out such dark power? Sith power?"

He scoffed. "Trust me, I didn't access that thing willingly," he muttered, reaching beneath his robes. As he started digging for something, Kylo hovered his hand over his lightsaber, tense and waiting, but Luke only rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Ben, must we resort to violence so soon? We haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

Kylo didn't respond, remaining vigilant even though Luke wasn't holding a weapon. It was a necklace. He gave a curt nod toward it. "What does that have to do with the vergence?"

"Weeks before your mother and I arranged the reunion with you and the girl, I was being haunted by this," he said, lifting his hand to let the pendant unravel. With its rusted chain looped around his thumb, the attached crystal rested around his palm, shining an eerie purple hue. Luke glanced at it, a frown touching his lips. "Unfortunately, I had seen this thing before, long ago when I tried to destroy it. Imagine my surprise when the Force led me to the Sith Citadel on Exegol, right to this, hidden below the vergence, calling upon me to make things right."

Kylo's eyes darted to the crystal again, and a wave of domineering energy slammed into him, forcing him to take a broad step back. "The diseased kyber crystal," he whispered, crouching slightly as he unclipped his weapon from his belt. His mind raced. If Luke found this on Exegol, and the Resistance found another one on Canto Bight...that meant his enemies now had two powerful crystals that could destroy him. Keeping his thumb above the activation switch, his frantic eyes darted between Luke's face and the artifact. "Tell me, Uncle, are you collecting Palpatine's crystals to amass the strength to defeat me?"

As Luke stopped across from him, Kylo felt his energy shift to something darker. "No, Ben. This isn't the crystal you think it is," he said with a sad shake of his head. He paused to take a deep breath, all traces of arrogance sliding off his face. "But you're right. Just like the other one, this is Palpatine's creation as well."

Kylo let out a bitter scoff. "Privately utilizing a power you publicly denounced. How very fitting of a Jedi."

Luke slowly lowered his hand, giving his nephew a charged look. "You really think I want to use one of these things against you? That I want to kill you?"

"You tried once, didn't you?" Kylo snapped, throwing a hard jut of his chin toward the crystal. "I don't care how strong that is—I'm stronger. I will destroy it. Just as I will destroy you."

Luke was silent for a long beat, fearlessly holding Kylo's penetrative glare before letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm not here to harm you. I wasn't lying when I said it called to me to make things right. It did. And to make things right, I need to give it back to the person it belongs to." He paused. "Your prisoner."

Kylo jolted his head back. "What? What does she have to do with one of the Emperor's artifacts?"

"Everything, unfortunately," he said with a grim expression. "But it's a long story best told over a glass of whiskey. Many glasses. Please, get the girl. I will tell both of you all the missing pieces your mother couldn't."

The Supreme Leader's pulse slammed into his rib cage. He knew what Luke was trying to do. He wanted to manipulate him into taking the crystal under the guise that it was significant, when in reality, he had riddled it with a Force-destabilizer or beacon to try and take him down, just like they put inside Kitten the first time. He swung his head from side to side in rage.

"You think I don't know what you're doing, Uncle?" he seethed through a tight jaw. "Your Jedi principles are stopping you from using the diseased kyber crystal against me, so you've resorted to deceit and passive destruction to solve your problems." He served him an austere look up and down. "Fitting, for a coward like you."

"You have every right to distrust me, especially after I embedded a Force-beacon in the girl's mind," Luke said, pausing to take a deep breath. "But I promise you, that is not my angle here. I am telling the truth. This pendant belongs to her, and—"

"Enough! I don't believe a word you're saying," Kylo flared, his booming voice echoing all around them. "I will assess the crystal myself after I take it off your corpse."

Luke continued without missing a beat, entirely unfazed by his threats. "Ben, I beg of you, come home. I'm offering you a second chance, I'm—"

"Fuck your second chance," Kylo spat, his lip curling over his teeth. "I don't want it."

"Please," Luke pleaded, putting his hands up in surrender. "Leave with me tonight. Bring the girl. Start over."

"Neither of us want anything to do with you," Kylo shot back, twisting the hilt of his lightsaber in his hands. His anger spiked in his blood, and as he glanced over Luke's head, he understood why—the Knights of Ren were seeping into the clearing like black tar smothering a sunrise. With a cruel smile pulling at his lips, he looked back at his uncle. "It's over, Luke. You are gravely outnumbered."

Across from him, Luke mirrored Kylo's stance and lengthened his spine. He looked over his shoulder, taking in the view of the knights emerging from the trees as their weapons sat readily in their hands. They were confident in how much space they took up, their shoulders spanning the entire length of their own galaxy, and with their tall, sinister figures, they looked like the embodiment of death itself. They moved menacingly as they zeroed in on Luke with predatory steps, but Kylo put up his hand, bringing them to a halt. He had to be the one to kill Luke Skywalker.

Taking a deep breath, Luke looked back to Kylo, his momentary show of humility evaporating into the smugness he so often wore. Raising his brows, his lips twitched up into an insulting smile. "Is that your boy band?"

Kylo saw red. "Always cracking jokes, even in the face of death. You arrogant fool."

"Oh, Nephew. I might be arrogant, and I might be a fool, but today is not my day to die." With graceful ease, Luke unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it, illuminating a smooth, green glow against his face. He locked his eyes on Kylo. "And you know that."

Kylo crouched, stomped one foot out, and ignited his lightsaber. For a moment, the only sounds in the clearing were his uneven breaths and his weapon, buzzing and crackling by his side. Eye twitching, he held it up to his face, looking at Luke down the length of his blade. "Any last words, Uncle?"

Luke twirled his lightsaber and smiled. "Loser buys the first round."

Kylo ran at him. Luke remained perfectly still as he crossed the clearing, only lifting his saber to block his nephew's blow mere seconds before it connected with his face. Their blades collided with a deafening thrum, red, angry sparks flying from Kylo's weapon as the Jedi's spat out green zaps of light. The hit locked their lightsabers against one another, and Luke shoved forward, driving Kylo back. He caught his footing with ease, and their weapons disengaged as they tore away from one another. Panting and nostrils flared, Kylo watched with murder in his eyes as Luke cracked his neck and started jumping up and down, as though battling with his own blood was just a warm-up for him.

"You are rather predictable, Ben," Luke said breezily as he stretched his calves. "It's almost like I taught you everything I know."

"Shut up," Kylo yelled, running for him again. He tried to deliver a blow across Luke's neck, but he ducked, bending his spine and twisting away from the Supreme Leader's blade. Falling back again, they both started to engage in a dance of agile, lithe steps as they circled around each other.

"You need to give the girl a chance to choose her destiny," Luke called out, his usually calm voice laced with strain. "Please don't let your hatred for me ruin that for her."

Kylo watched him with wild eyes as he moved low to the ground, his chest rising and falling with a pained effort. His lightsaber buzzed in his grip as he spoke with a tightly controlled voice. "You have ten seconds to convince me that you aren't lying, Uncle. Ten."

"I need more time than that. Please, just come home," Luke begged, desperation flashing across his face. "Not as the Supreme Leader, or as Kylo Ren. But As Ben Solo. Like your mother wants, like your father wanted," he emphasized, expression etched in pain as he mentioned Han. "There, we will tell you everything you need to know. Everything you deserve to know."

"That's not good enough," Kylo yelled, spit flying from his mouth. "My father is dead. Ben Solo is dead. And soon, you'll be dead, too."

He charged. This time he wouldn't miss. This time the last Jedi would die. The look on Luke's face was one of failure. Again. He knew Kylo would never trust him again, just as he knew he would never return to his former home. Never. The next few moments were just a blur, both of them moving too fast to even catch their breath. Their lightsabers clashed with a brutal force over and over again, their feet moving in quick, graceful movements around the clearing. As they continued to duel, Kylo began to realize that they were too evenly matched for him to get the upper hand.

It infuriated him. It fueled him. His knights hovered behind them, waiting for a chance to intervene, but the Supreme Leader had to do this himself. Had to. Grunting, he spun around and charged at the old man with everything he had, pushing him back toward his knights. Luke met each blow with a counterstrike—until he didn't. Until his student finally outsmarted him. With one last thrust, Kylo swung his lightsaber down at the hilt of his uncle's, sending his weapon flying across the clearing. Breathing heavily and disarmed, Luke stepped back and stood up straight with his hands raised.

The Supreme Leader had him trapped. It was his moment to kill him, to get revenge. All he had to do was lift his lightsaber and swing it down, and the final seed of the Jedi Order would get the ending he deserved. But instead, everything that Kylo had ever felt toward his uncle came rising to the surface, clawing up his throat to choke him with emotion. Hot tears welled in his eyes. His chest felt heavy. His hands shook. He froze.

Recognition lit up Luke's face, and for a moment, so did a sliver of hope. "Ben."

"You failed," Kylo whispered, voice breaking. "You failed me. Left me in the hands of the very evil that destroyed grandfather." He swallowed. "How could you?"

"I know," he said, with exaggerated emphasis. With his hands still up, he took a hesitant step closer. "I will never forgive myself for that. For letting Snoke turn you. For not listening to you. And that night, in your hut." Slowly, Luke lowered one hand and offered it to Kylo, palm facing up. "Ben. I am so sorry. I beg of you, come home."

Lightsaber still vibrating by his side, Kylo's eyes darted to his uncle's hand. He envisioned what would happen if he took it. He would have to either slaughter his knights or convert those willing to follow him to the light side. He'd have to walk back to Oga's Cantina and look his prisoner in the eyes and apologize, telling her that everything he had put her through was all for nothing. That she didn't need to submit to the First Order, and she could stand by Ben Solo instead of Kylo Ren. That he would join her. They'd leave together to repair the relationship with her General and his mother, who would watch him with those wounded, mournful eyes but ultimately accept her son back with open arms.

"Please."

Luke's voice snapped him out of his daydream. He didn't want his pity or apologies. He didn't want his mother's forgiveness or the Resistance's acceptance. He didn't want any of it. He just wanted one thing, needed one thing. Her. And she was waiting for him. As he peered at the man he used to feel love and trust toward, Kylo's bottom lip trembled, his voice wavered. "The only thing you regret about that night..." he trailed off, a single tear sliding down his cheek, "is not killing me when you had the chance."

Body slumping with defeat, Luke dropped his hands. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, a sense of peace washing over his features. It was over; he knew it, and Kylo knew it. The Supreme Leader's hand was steady as he raised his lightsaber, red and angry and vibrating with all the energy and lives it has claimed since he first wielded it all those years ago. Just looking at it, just holding it, gave him the reassurance he needed to know that he couldn't go back. It was too late. Luke was too late. And now he had to die.

"Goodbye, Luke."

Kylo lifted his blade above his head, his fingers tensing around the hilt. But just as he was about to deliver the mortal blow to the man he now hated most, a rush of air swept him back a few steps, nearly knocking him off his feet. It blew them apart, both of them crouching down to try and plant their feet firmly on the ground. As he heard the whine of an engine, Kylo frantically looked up to see the blue, bright lights of the infuriating piece of junk that didn't know when to fucking quit. The Millennium Falcon. Hovering right above them.

Panic surged through the Supreme Leader. No, no, no. He couldn't let Luke get away. He tried to move forward, but just as his knights were being driven back from the force of the ship, so was he. Trees all around them swayed from side to side, some snapping in half as the wind battered him and Luke, their hair flying back and their robes whipping out behind them. Yelling, Kylo pushed forward with the Force, trying to cut through the windblast to get to his opponent. But he couldn't do it, not when Luke was also using the Force to keep him back.

With sad eyes, and an even sadder smile touching his lips, the Jedi spoke to his nephew from inside his mind. "See you around, kid."

Kylo tried to lunge for him. "No!"

But it was too late. Luke jumped and escaped his desperate grasp, clutching onto a cable dangling from the ramp of the Falcon. As he was hoisted up, he summoned his lightsaber from where Kylo had upended it, whizzing the weapon right past the Supreme Leader's head. With one final pained look, Luke retreated to safety, and the Falcon immediately jumped to lightspeed, their violent departure sending Kylo to the ground.

With his knees and palms digging into the soil, he remained there for a moment, frozen, as his hair fell in his face, dripping with sweat, and his chest rattled with deep, severe breaths. He knew he should climb to his feet to acknowledge his approaching knight. But he couldn't. He was too busy choking on a truth that brought him more shame than he wanted to admit.

Luke Skywalker was here. And I failed.

Vicrul's voice was quiet, tense. "Master Ren." He shuffled Lucy in his hands when Kylo still didn't move. "Master Ren, are you hurt?"

Again, Kylo didn't move or speak. In the back of his mind, he understood that in his stillness, it could look like he was injured. But inside of him was a destructive vortex of chaos, defeat. Pain. He failed. He fucking failed. He thought he had gained control since his colossal loss in Canto Bight, but he was wrong about that, too. Always fucking wrong.

Vicrul bent down and placed a hand on Kylo's shoulder. "Ky—"

"Do not touch me," he growled, pushing himself off the ground in one powerful, fluid motion. When he stood up straight, Vicrul stepped back, but Kylo followed him to shove a finger in his face. "The Resistance might be here. Find them."

He gave a dip of his head. "Yes, Master."

Kylo broke away from his knight, his feet carrying him through the clearing and into the woods. His presence was a dark stain as he ripped through the sunset-kissed forest, his face full of hardened rage and black attire mirroring the whirlpool of self-hatred wreaking havoc on his system. He moved with an unyielding strength, his boots squashing foliage and snapping branches as he clawed at the trees to propel himself forward, relentless in his pursuit of escaping the buoyant ambiance of the wildlife surrounding him. He didn't want to hear birds sing or crickets chirp or the gentle babble of the stream. No. Right now, the Supreme Leader only wanted to hear the sound of Luke Skywalker's corpse collapsing onto the dirt.

But instead, he heard the trembling voice of a woman. "Where is she? Where did you leave her?"

Kylo halted. Keeping his back to this unfortunate, unexpected visitor, a whisper of a cruel smile twitched on his lips. He didn't get to watch his uncle die, but this nobody that had just so obnoxiously thrown herself into harm's way? Surely watching this irritant take her very last breath would ease his loss, right? Right. After taking a deep, grounding breath, the Supreme Leader exercised tight motions to turn around, coming face to face with his victim of the night.