Ouroboros

Twenty Two

Twenty Two

Something was wrong.

Kylo Ren was embroiled in battle, his body zinging with the Force, the power surging and guiding his every move and yet, there was a nagging sense of dislocation. He pushed it back as he swirled, lunging to impale another body on his lightsaber, his left hand swinging round to brutally smash another two against the iron-hard trunks of the Mustafan forest. The warm breeze swirled around him as he dived away, slashing in a wide arc that bisected an unfortunate who was trying to flank the former Supreme Leader. The familiar tang of sulphur mingled with the sweet scents of charred flesh and plastic and the coppery tang of blood as he paused, the lightsaber held rigidly in front of his tense body. The brilliant blue blade washed his blood-splattered features pallid, his eyes dark with rage. Sweat stuck tendrils of his raven hair against his forehead and cheeks as he breathed hard, preparing to repel the next assault.

The stormtroopers were surging at him, their ranks tight and coordination perfect, as was to be expected from the trained men and women of the First Order and he felt their determination, seasoned with fear and uncertainty, through the Force. Brow furrowing as the next wave came at him, he only had time to twist his lightsaber to deflect the half dozen blaster bolts thrown at him. He could catch them, of course, but that required a lot of power and discipline that could weaken him when he was surrounded by so many foes...

Stormtroopers? Foes?

He blinked and almost stopped until a blaster bolt grazed his side. Roaring in fury, he extended his hand, fingers splayed before he drew them into a vicious, deliberate fist that had the man who had shot Kylo Ren screaming as his throat was crushed. The blaster fire on his form intensified and it was all he could to to deflect it with the saber and his hand, feeling every impact as if on his mind.

He flinched as a volley of blasters sounded from behind him, the wielders cutting down the stormtroopers who were attacking him. Hunkered down, he could sense seven people and one droid, ranged behind cover and firing steadily against the stormtroopers.

Resistance! They must be Resistance! So why were they helping him?

Why were the stormtroopers trying to kill him?

And then the fog thinned, the blanket of blood lust and cruelty lifting a little to enable him to think rationally. To recall a pair of hazel eyes, liberally flecked with green, a smile that lit a beautiful face, chestnut hair swept into those three buns...

Rey.

How could he forget?

He flinched and felt a cold surge wash through him. Instinctively, he knew it was from the Sith Holocron tucked in his belt but the same instincts had him ducking and parrying another volley of blaster fire, grimacing as he felt another twenty troopers approaching. And then a ferocious volley of blasters fired from behind him, cutting down the front rank.

"Ben!" Rose's voice cut through the sounds of battle and he spun, his eyes locking in her face. Idly, he deflected a shot that was aiming close as the others-Finn, Poe, Chewie, Zorii, Jannah and Beau-all fired at the stormtroopers. "We're not going without you!"

He blinked, the Darkness swirling around him. The Darkness that was his friend, his blanket, his comfort through every failure and success, through pain and loneliness and rejection. The Darkness that had cost him the lives of his parents, his Uncle, his fellow padawans, his Rey...

A surge of memory chased the darkness away. Rey. Talking to her. Seeing her frown and cry and smile. Feeling her bravery, her defiance, her pain, her trust, her l...