The Rise of Skywalker

by Rae Carson

  “I’m very pleased to report that the Millennium Falcon sent us a transmission on long-range,” she said. “Their mission is back on track.”

  People clapped one another on the back. She saw smiles. Connix and Rose even hugged. This had been the right choice.

  “Our hope is with them, but our work is here. Commander Tico reports that the two fighters we liberated from the Corellian scrapyard are now flight ready.”

  More applause.

  “My congratulations and thanks to the entire Engineering Corps for pulling off that miracle. But our work has just begun—”

  Leia. Of course he chose the end of her speech to interrupt.

  You’re becoming a pest, she told Luke.

  She felt his smile. Time to say goodbye, he said.

  Not just yet…

  But the words she’d been planning got stuck in her mouth, and instead she ended with, “I’m so proud of all of you. As long as we never lose hope, our cause lives on.”

  She stumbled a little on her way to her quarters, but Connix was there in a flash to support her.

  As they headed past the Tantive IV, she overheard R2-D2 ask Maz a question.

  “Yes, Artoo,” Maz said. “She knows what she has to do. To reach her son now will take all she has left.”

  Leia decided to ignore that, like she was ignoring Luke. She was just so tired. If she could lie down…Connix helped her to her cot. After the girl left, Leia grabbed Han’s medal and lay back, holding it close to her chest.

  * * *

  —

  Before Rey had touched down on Takodana with Han Solo, the only body of water she’d ever seen was the slimy trough at Niima Outpost. Then, on Ahch-To, she’d always eyed the sea with a bit of distrust. The ways of water were terrifying and alien to her, and she knew she’d be facing her most unpredictable enemy yet.

  Still, this ocean was even worse than Rey had anticipated. The skimmer she’d stolen was a marvel of recycling ingenuity, with two pontoons made for cutting through waves, bouncing over rough water, turning with her slightest touch of the rudder. But the waves were higher than buildings, creating eddies and whirlpools and massive explosions of froth. It took all her concentration to keep from capsizing.

  The skimmer itself became her enemy when an unexpected wave ripped the rudder from her hand, slamming it sideways and almost knocking her into the water. A few more near-disasters and she figured out that she needed to aim for the waves instead of against them, and trust the skimmer to make the climb.

  Soaked and shivering, she pushed on toward the Death Star, toward the exact spot identified by the dagger. The star-shaped chamber was so high, so isolated. But maybe she could reach it by climbing up the inside of the structure, sheltered somewhat from the waves. The wreckage loomed higher and larger as she approached. Water churned against the massive hull, pulled back to reveal tantalizing access points, only to crash back and drown them in the next moment. Rey had no idea how she would get on board with her life intact.

  She crested another wave, and her heart leapt into her throat as the skimmer dropped down the other side. She was too close to the wreck. Her momentum was going to slam her into the hull, shatter the skimmer into a thousand pieces…

  Instead, her skimmer was sucked into a vast canyon of metal that stretched nearly to the horizon. Here the water was somewhat sheltered by the warped walls scraping the sky to either side. Her journey slowed. Compared with the open ocean, it was almost peaceful. She craned her neck. Flying creatures nested far above at the canyon’s zenith. They winged in circles, crying out as they came in to land.

  The dagger had told her where to go, but she found she didn’t need it. Something drew her forward, the pull of it heavy in her bones. For some reason, she found herself reaching out for Luke. Be with me?

  Of course, there was no answer.

  She aimed the skimmer toward a section of wall that seemed to have good hand- and footholds. She tied the skimmer down as best she could, checked that her lightsaber was still attached to her belt, and began to climb.

  It had been a while since she’d spelunked through the ruins of a downed starship. Her grip remained strong, but everything was wet and slippery. Patience was the key. Slow and deliberate, Rey. Test every hold before putting weight on it.

  She was far above the surface of the water, the skimmer a bobbing speck, when she found entry into the hull. Avoiding sharp metal, she ducked inside and scooted along a canted beam to a wide shaft, where she resumed her climb. It was drier here, but also darker, and she found herself working by feel.

  Her path of handholds ended. There was nowhere to go except across the empty shaft, where a fallen strut created a way forward. It would be an impossible leap.

  She called on the Force, launched with all her might, sailed through the shaft across a depthless maw, landed on hands and feet.

  Rey resumed her climb. Her back and shoulders burned by the time the shaft opened into a vast chamber. The floor was sloped upward, slippery with water, covered in seaweed and metal detritus and even pieces of stormtrooper armor, blackened by fire. Wind whistled through gaping holes in the walls, and she shivered. This place had been something once. Something important.

  Ahead, the sloped floor led to a huge viewport, half shattered, bayed out to the sky. Before it was a dais of some sort, containing the ocean-soaked remains of a chair. No, a throne.

  This had been the Emperor’s throne room. Luke had fought Darth Vader here, and the energy—or maybe memory—of that battle still lingered. She closed her eyes and sensed terror, pain, regret, and…a determination to save someone who was deeply loved.

  Rey stepped toward the throne. The floor quivered beneath her feet, and she leapt back just in time as a large panel dropped away. It clattered on its way down, the sounds growing ever fainter. She did not hear it land.

  Rey crept along the shadowy walls, where she hoped the floor was better supported, and came to a door. It had a complicated access mechanism that marked it as valuable and significant. Maybe a vault. What she sought was assuredly inside.

  She could get through this lock eventually. The Death Star had been dormant here for decades. She probably just needed to muscle it—

  Rey lifted a hand as if to push, but before she made contact, something clicked and the door whooshed open. As if it still had a power source. Like she’d been recognized.

  Darkness enveloped her as she stepped inside.

  The door slammed down behind her. Rey moved forward, inexplicably drawn.

  Shapes manifested around her, fragments of a person. It was her, she realized with dawning dismay. She was walking through a hall of shattered mirrors, seeing her own form reflected back at her over and over, like in the cave beneath Ahch-To.

  Except here the shattered glass only gave her jagged pieces of herself—an arm here, a boot there, a lock of soaking hair, a bruised temple. The shards of reflection were a puzzle that she ached to solve, as though doing so might make a whole person finally appear.

  No, she would not allow herself to go through this again. The tease, the promise of knowledge and insight, only to come up with nothing. Rey closed her mind to the mirrors and continued forward, toward the thing calling to her.

  The wayfinder hovered between black fittings, its pyramidal shape glowing soft red from within. She reached for it, took it.

  Triumph filled her. Finally.

  The triumph shifted, became burgeoning dread. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her neck prickled. She was being watched.

  Slowly, still grasping the wayfinder, she turned.

  A hooded figure materialized, glided toward her with inexorable purpose, dark cloak sweeping the ground. The figure practically radiated power, and something else…a cold and ravenous hunger.

  A red lightsaber appeared in the figure’s hand, chaotic like Kylo’s
, with two parallel blades. Light from the blade finally illuminated a face as pale and gaunt as it was fierce.

  Rey gasped, stumbling backward. It was her. Her face, her form. Cold and dark, wearing a Sith cloak, whole at last.

  Horrified, she watched as the dark mirror Rey swung her blades apart, forming a long, fiery quarterstaff. It was the very saber she’d tentatively begun designing in her mind.

  This couldn’t be real. It was a vision, nothing more. But the dark Rey’s steps echoed when they met the floor, and her lightstaff reeked of ozone. Her power was incredible, intoxicating. Almost against her will, Rey began to reach with her hand…

  The mirrored dark visage of Rey spoke: “Don’t be afraid of who you are.”

  It was a lightning strike, hearing Leia’s exact words from this creature’s mouth.

  The dark Rey whipped her lightsaber forward, seeking a killing blow. Rey had her own lightsaber ignited and raised within a split second. Their blades clashed, blue on red, sparking and angry.

  Rey refused to lose her grasp on the wayfinder, which gave the dark Rey the advantage. With two hands on her weapon and a fierce gaze, the dark one pushed, pinning Rey’s weapon, forcing her back, one step, then another. Rey slid into the throne room.

  Her stomach roiled and tears streamed down her face. She was about to be defeated by her own self, her deepest fear made flesh, everything she’d fought for come to nothing—

  The dark Rey hissed, revealing pointed teeth.

  Rey barely registered the fact that her dark mirror-self disappeared as she stumbled backward, tripping. She fell, the wayfinder slipping from her hand. It slid across the sloped floor. She scrambled after it, reached for the wayfinder.

  Another hand got there first, larger, black-gloved. She looked up. Kylo Ren loomed, his shoulders dimpled with drops of ocean.

  Despair nearly choked her. To escape a future dark self, only to collide with Kylo Ren. It felt like her worst nightmares coming true. It felt like destiny.

  She launched to her feet. Re-ignited her lightsaber.

  “Look at yourself,” he said. He was maskless. Somehow, she knew that he would never wear his mask for her again. “You wanted to prove to my mother that you were a Jedi.” His voice oozed contempt for that notion. “But you’ve proven something else. You can’t go back to her now. Like I can’t.”

  His words cleared her head. Because he was wrong. Her darkest self had told her not to be afraid of who she was. But so had Leia. Leia knew. And she had still chosen to train her.

  Kylo Ren did not understand his mother at all.

  “Give it to me,” she ordered.

  He seemed confused for a moment, as though surprised that she could still resist. “The dark side is in our nature,” he tried again. “Surrender to it.”

  “Give it. To me,” she said, pushing with the Force.

  He lifted the wayfinder, stared at it. His expression turned smug. “The only way you’re getting to Exegol is with me.”

  Rey gasped, began shaking her head. No, no, no…

  His grip tightened. The wayfinder shattered. Something viscous oozed out of the remains, slipped through Kylo’s fingers. He opened his palm to reveal nothing but sticky dust. The thing she’d come halfway across the galaxy for, risked the lives of her friends for, had been obliterated.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Hot, primal rage rose inside her like volcanic magma, and she erupted forward, swinging her lightsaber.

  He leapt out of the way of her blow, ducked under the next. He whirled away from her, cape flying.

  Vaguely, through her haze of fury, she realized he was not attacking her, and somehow this enraged her further. She reached, drew power from the Force as though she were a bottomless whirlpool—more, more, more. Her attacks increased in speed.

  Finally, he could dodge no longer. His own lightsaber was suddenly brought to bear, and they clashed, their blades crackling and humming with energy.

  Over and over she swiped, slammed, stabbed, and he countered with effort, matching her ferocity. But he gave ground.

  Kylo stepped back, dropped into the shaft.

  Without a second thought, she leapt after him.

  She hardly recalled traveling any distance, but somehow they ended up outside the wreckage, on a bridgelike hunk of metal only meters wide. A massive gun turret loomed over them; beyond it and half drowning in spray was Ren’s parked TIE. The ocean raged all around, but she pressed her attack, oblivious to the added danger.

  Kylo Ren had no choice but to attack in kind, and it was so satisfying to strike, again and again, only to have their blades clash like cymbals. The impacts shivered into her shoulders, bruised her spine and hips. It was better than thinking about what she’d seen, what he’d done. Who she was.

  A presence cut through her awareness, shining and bright. And a voice screaming: “Rey!”

  Finn was running toward her, leaving Jannah behind to watch their skimmer. Rey’s instinct to protect Finn was overwhelming. With no thought at all, she called on the Force and thrust out with her hand. He flew backward toward Jannah at the edge of the bridge-wreck. A wave crashed down on the stretch of bridge between them, cutting Finn and Jannah off from her sight.

  The sea was boiling now with a rising tide. As she raged against Kylo Ren, the Force opened itself to her, flooding her with new power, and she found herself leaping out of the way of massive waves, then landing on her feet only to leap again. Kylo leapt after her, using the Force to propel himself into the sky, then again to control his landings.

  She would not leave this place until one of them was dead. But her blade was not breaking through his guard. She gritted her teeth and attacked him with Force energy. He flew backward, caught himself, landed neatly.

  Kylo advanced, pushing with his own Force energy. Her temples began to throb with pain, but she stood her ground.

  He sent the thought directly into her mind: I know you.

  No one does, she shot back.

  But I do.

  She screamed and launched herself at him again.

  He was physically stronger. The longer they fought, the clearer it became. But she was a little faster. Their sabers collided. He pushed. She slid backward on the slick metal surface, his chaotic blade gradually getting closer and closer to her face. She felt its vibration near her cheeks.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a colossal oncoming wave. The ocean was reaching high tide. She leapt as the wave crashed down, using the Force to propel herself high and backward.

  Rey landed in a crouch before another gun turret. She looked around. No sign of Kylo Ren. Maybe the wave had washed him away.

  No, there he was, striding unerringly toward her, ocean water pouring from his hair, his face. He had withstood the wave. The expression on his face said that he could withstand anything.

  She attacked, and he countered. But she was tiring, slowing. She hadn’t slept in how long? And she was not yet recovered from healing the vexis. Her hand smarted with every blow.

  Another attack, another block, and this one knocked her off her feet.

  He loomed over her, raised his lightsaber.

  Rey stared up at him. She was going to die on this wreck of a space station. But maybe it was better to die now than to give in to the darkness later.

  She glared, preparing to dodge, accepting that maybe she wouldn’t be fast enough.

  Kylo froze, lightsaber held high.

  * * *

  —

  Leia, there is only one thing left to do.

  Galaxy save us all from big brothers, she thought.

  Luke said, You must try to reach Ben.

  She flashed back to holding her tiny son in her arms, his black hair still wet with birth, the way he’d cried all the time in those early months but settled whenever he sensed that
she or Han or Chewie was near. His first steps. His first word. The first time he’d sent a toy flying across the room with the power of the Force, calling on his tiny, toddler rage.

  I never gave up hope for him, she said.

  Tell him, said Luke.

  With his words came a rush of knowledge, and a vision-memory of Luke sitting cross-legged atop a cliff of Ahch-To, shaking with effort as he projected himself onto the battlefield at Crait.

  The effort to reach Ben would take everything she had left.

  She couldn’t do it. It would be her ultimate failure, to leave behind everyone she loved, everything she’d worked for. Leia had to stay. She had to continue fanning the tiny flame of hope, or the Resistance would die.

  Her thumb went back and forth across the cool face of Han’s medal. Her heart had been so full of hope then, after their first big victory against the Empire. Giving these medals to Luke and Han had been more than a public celebration; they’d been a symbolic awarding of leadership. She’d shared the burden ever since that day.

  She sighed with a heavy realization. She’d had it backward. Letting go wasn’t giving up. It was the ultimate act of hope—hope for her protégés Rey and Poe, faith in the lessons she’d taught them. The last thing they would learn from her was how to go on without her, thus finally embracing their own destinies as leaders.

  Bail Organa had been the one to teach her that. Her adopted father had trusted her to find Obi-Wan Kenobi and save the rebellion when she was just a young woman with less experience than any of them.

  Leia, Luke prompted.

  If Vader could become Anakin again, Kylo Ren could become Ben. Her son was tempted by the light; she could sense it. But even if he never turned back the way Anakin had, she still loved him, and her legacy was secure. She was Leia Skywalker Organa Solo. As she caressed Han’s medal, she fully embraced all those inheritances. And she would pass them all to the next generation. Her Skywalker legacy would go to Rey, Organa to Poe, and she would try one last time to pass her Solo legacy to her son.

  So that’s how it would be. A final act of hope, and then she would rest.