The Flame (sequel to Kidnapped by Kylo Ren)

Chapter 35

"Where's the third?" Nira questioned curiously.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her -- my daughter.

"Nira," I lightly, quietly started, "She didn't survive."

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*****

The remaining First Order forces had all rejoined on an uncharted outerrim planet's moon. This moon contained heavy jungles and mountainous terrain where no flying, passing ship could even identify that there was part of an army camping under the thick forestry. No ships even flew by, anyways. The planet was nearly void of all social creatures.

It was on my orders to ban all outwards communication with other organizations, including even the Resistance, who I was grateful for in battle.

We had tents set up throughout about a square mile's worth of terrain coated in trees that cast dark shadows among us as we worked. Tents were separated by purpose; weapon storage, vehicle storage, medical tents, soldier barracks, rations, and more. And then of course there were the dormitories; cramped spaces covered by measly canvas in which large groups of employees lived under.

At first, I wondered if it was possible for the entirety of the First Order to remain so lowkey due to the sheer size of our organization. How many canvased dormitories would we need in order to hospitalize everyone that was employed by us?

Turns out that I didn't need to worry about living space. I had been so consumed by Nira's labor that I'd forgone releasing battle retreat orders until it was too late. By the time the commander had warned me of our losing status, over half of our forces had been decimated by the Legions of Chrome. By the time the order to retreat was received, it was too late. Ninety percent of the First Order had been destroyed in battle.

The Resistance had been nearly entirely destructed as well. Last I heard, their main command chain and shuttle had survived and sped off when they noticed our own TIE fighters were retreating. I'm assuming my mother had, indeed, survived.

So there we were; a formerly monstrous war presence reduced to a mere group of people trapped under tents in a sweltering jungle, struggling to not only remain hidden from an enemy that was surely hunting us down, but also struggling to survive.

A temporary government had been established. I still reigned as supreme leader, but there was no council or senators. I would take input and suggestions from any of the remaining citizens or soldiers on actions to be took, but I would continue making final decisions.

As for Nira and myself, well, that was an even more dreary and confusing situation.

How does a couple celebrate the birth of two healthy, if not a tad premature, baby boys while at the same time mourn over the loss of their daughter? We were so torn between bottomless love and irreversible grief that I barely knew how to compose myself among my children.

The second day on the moon, Nira and I had held an extremely privatized funeral for our daughter. The funeral had been olden-style. She'd had a small wooden casket that had been lowered into the damp jungle dirt, and then covered up.

I held Nira in my arms the entire time as my wife nearly crumpled into my chest, heaping with sadness for our daughter.

I knew of the small chances of all three triplets surviving the premature, rushed, and stressed birth. Nira and I were lucky to have the two of our sons with us at that time. But the agonizing despair that I felt, the desperate longing to hold my child and care for her, tore at my insides constantly.

After the third day I knew I had to get back to work. Nira was allowed to remain in our dormitory and take care of the two boys. A caretaker was employed to help Nira care for them.