The Last Knight

Ch.14: Every Inch of the Galaxy

TW: passive suicidal ideation

Time seemed to slow down as Kylo Ren realized that he had been nothing but a pawn in a large, cruel scheme. He looked from the burning Night Buzzard, to the flaming Tie Fighters, and finally to the dark expanse of hills and trees beyond. City lights twinkled in the distance, and the marble house was lit like a glowing, blissful, ignorant beacon in the distance. There were no X-wings in sight.

It didn't truly sink in until a scream from behind him pierced the air, simultaneously shattering his composure. His ability to think. That scream ripped through his body like a knife, more painful than any physical injury that he had ever sustained. The realization that he had, yet again, been stupid. Reckless.

The realization that something was about to be taken from him. The sutures that had begun to sew him up were ripped away mercilessly. Again he was empty.

Of course something was about to be taken from him. That's the way it had always been. It's the way that Snoke had said it always would be. People with his sort of power could never truly have that sense of stability they craved.

Of course something was about to be taken from him, because he had let himself fall prey to the idea of a life where something—someone—could actually bring him comfort. The idea of a life without the unspeakable terrors that kept him awake for days on end. The idea that maybe, eventually, he would sleep through the night. Foolishly, he started to see not only a future for the First Order, but a future for himself.

Of course she would slip through his fingers so quickly. Such was his destiny.

And he couldn't even force himself to think that it didn't matter, because as she collapsed to the ground, blood already pouring from her head, something in him broke. There was no way he could pretend anymore.

His own words echoed in his mind. I feel it too.

He could tell himself that First Order soldiers were expendable... but not this one. This one mattered.

As a hundred resistance fighters swarmed from the cover of trees and enveloped their small group, he knew he had only a split second to draw his lightsaber. Just one moment to engage them. But instead he lurched forward to catch his knight as she fell.

And he was too late.

His shoulder seared with the pain of blaster fire as the rebels charged toward them, disguised in dark clothing and leaves. Kylo tumbled backward down the hill, grasping for his weapon. He couldn't define one figure from another as he scrambled to steady himself on his feet. Their faces were completely concealed. They were one with the night.

His red saber blazed through the onslaught, trying to cut down the wave of shadows that were coming between him and the lifeless girl that had disappeared in the darkness. He was starting to panic, scanning the crowd for her as he swung the sword ruthlessly. How had so many miles come between them in only the seconds that it took him to draw his weapon?

It didn't matter that ships were burning; it didn't matter that he had been hit.

Where. Was. She.

In the distance, there was a large crash as the remains of the Night Buzzard collapsed completely.

Uncharted anger surged through Kylo's veins as he tore through the traitors like they were nothing more than scraps of cloth. He didn't need to see them clearly in order to end their miserable, pathetic lives. Filled with rage like he had never known, he vowed to kill them all right here on this hill.

Unfamiliar voices began shouting at the faceless men to retreat.

"Move!" He screamed at the stormtroopers to follow them into the trees. They were too slow. He was too slow.