To Be So Lonely // Ben Solo

3

Cyra kept glancing to the sun. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, as equally loud as the cracking underneath her boots as she crushed the frosted grass. The light from the sun was still present, but it was clearly draining. The ground beneath her feet was shaking, signaling that the weapon built into the planet was recharging.

She came to an abrupt stop as she found herself out of the mountain range. There was a deep valley just ahead of her, a seemingly endless forest, and right beyond that was where she saw the fight. Flashes of red and green were flying through the air, explosions were throwing debris into the forest underneath them.

A colossal cylinder had been built into the planet; a thermal oscillator, it looked like from afar. It was pulling the energy from the sun and into it, charging, she assumed. All it meant to her was that another attack was imminent, if the Resistance failed to blow it up.

Cyra knew she would not be able to run down the valley without slipping on the ice. She hurried to retrieve the lightsaber from her belt, ignite it, then slid it against the tree nearest to her. She caught the falling bark as it fell from the tree. She winced as she looked between it and the steep travel down the valley. She tried not to dwell much on it, knowing she would talk herself out of it, so she took a deep breath, and then flung herself down the valley on top of the bark.

Cyra could not help the screech that came from her lips as she flew. She lost her hat within the first few seconds of sliding down the valley, her hair was flinging wildly around her face, and she was growing extremely cold on her nose and ears from the wind whipping against her face.

She was approaching the end of the valley. It was only then, as she was sliding into the forest, that she wondered how exactly she planned to stop. Before she could think about allowing the Force into her body once more, Cyra was stopped by an unseen, thick branch that separated her from the bark, and sent her into the cold, hard snow.

Cyra didn't try to move immediately after she crashed. Her head had hit something hard; she hoped the warmth she felt in her forehead was simply adrenaline, but she had no time to check. The sky was falling dark. Her time was running out to reach Han and the Falcon.

Cyra didn't bother to stand at first, as she was already dizzy. She could not tell if the planet shaking was causing her vision to blur, or if it was from hitting her head. She crawled through the snow, trying to ignore the pounding in her ears. Her eyes were barely open. The longer she crawled, the more balance she regained. She stood successfully after a moment. Running was not an option as she knew it would mean certain failure, so she kept a hold of the trees as she passed by. They were close enough together to help her along.

She wondered briefly if she was even still traveling in the correct direction. She hoped. But she kept going, walking as fast as she could manage without falling over.

It was not long before darkness overtook the forest. She was out of time. Cyra pulled the lightsaber from her hip and lit it, using its bright blue light to guide her way through the woods.

Cyra flinched as she heard an explosion in the distance. She knew it had to be the oscillator, the way it shook the planet, the noise that clapped in her ears. She heard the planet shriek as it began to break open— a result of the oscillator blowing.

To survive, she had no other option. The light was gone, the Resistance had blown the oscillator, and the planet was minutes away from collapsing in on itself. Cyra took a deep breath. With an exhale, she felt it again flowing through her. The Force. 

The lightsaber in her hand started to pull her, to somewhere, someone. She soon felt the presence of two Force-sensitive beings, nearby. She kept following where the lightsaber was pulling towards.She started to hear brief cries, echoing clashes. She heard the noise of sizzling, the cracking of ice. Cyra turned her head.

Two figures were in the snow mere yards from her, one dressed in tattered cream-colored cloth, the other dressed in black. A red lightsaber was being pushed into the snow—the sizzling she had heard— while the other, the blue saber, was extended into the sky. The two were holding each other off.

Or, at least, they were, until her presence was sensed by both of them. Their heads snapped in her direction, the man's quicker than the woman's. It was too dark to see their faces, but by the glowing blue of the lightsaber in her hand, the woman knew she was not a threat to her, and she took her chance, in the man's falter, to regain control over the lightsaber, and bring it down across his face.

With a short cry, the man fell to the snow. Seconds after, the ground split, leaving the woman and Cyra on one side and the man on the other.

The woman turned immediately and ran for her. Cyra watched her come closer, squinting her eyes harder until the two women turned into just one. 

"You're the girl!" gasped the woman. She was young. Her hair was tied into buns on the back of her head, she was panting. "Han, Finn—they said a girl would be here, waiting for us."

Cyra only had it in her to nod. It was not solely from her concussion that she did not comprehend the words from the woman's mouth; there was a feeling deep inside of her that was distracting her. A familiar tingle ran throughout her body, a soft humming in her ears, the sense of belonging. She felt the presence of that man from the Force, enticing her to find him. To see him. The saber in her hand was accentuating that feeling. 

"We have to go, now, the planet is about to explode!" yelled the woman, tugging at her hand.

"Bring the Falcon here, to this edge, I'll jump," said Cyra. She spoke slowly, unable to move fast.

"You can barely walk, how do you think you'll manage to jump?" asked the woman.

"I will," she said. She gave the woman an encouraging push. "Go on, go. We have to hurry."

The woman did not hesitate. She ran further into the woods, to find the Falcon, Han, whatever. Cyra barely cared where she was going. Her focus was on the man across the broken land.

Cyra stepped to the edge of the cliff. She squinted into the darkness across, searching the white landscape for his dark clothes. Something about his essence in the Force was familiar to her. It called her. But she was weak, then, the bleeding from her head was causing her concentration on the Force to weaken as well.

Her eyes stopped as they fell upon a figure standing up. He turned quickly, feeling her eyes. He found her immediately. Their eyes met. Dark, enraged, brown eyes met the brown eyes of a a woman he thought to be dead. It had been years since he felt her, he thought it was her ghost reaching to him, but it was not. It was her. She was alive.

The pace at which he entered her mind was immediate. All he was able to say was her name, before the sudden intrusion caused her reflexes to throw him out of her head, and the strength she took to do so, threw her into unconsciousness.