𝑩𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒆.

Ｉｓ　ｔｈｉｓ　－－　ｗｈａｔ　
ｄｅａｔｈ　ｆｅｅｌｓ　ｌｉｋｅ　？

For the last thing she could recollect be
a blur ; a clash of blinding blue hues -- her hands gripping to both hilts in a cross formation
as she pressed forward. Persevering against the force lighting shot in full potency upon her direction.
She honed in on the decrepit figure -- her very blood -- before her.
Watching as the ancient, wrinkled flesh melt and wither away as she reflected his own
very power against him. His skin dissipating away to reveal the skull; vanishing into a dust.
NOTHING but dust.
The voices of the past Jedi before her;
speaking their praise -- encouraging her spirit.
Letting her 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚.
So much had occurred within the moment which seemed to last forever.
For she had embraced all of the light -- the embodiment of /THE/ Jedi.
She grunted with each step; feet firmly planted within the rubble beneath her throbbing feet.
For her body ached, her arms stiff -- yet, she kept going. Each breath of air filling her tired lungs fueled every inch of her movements.

And suddenly; there was nothing.
It was -- over.
Yet, she looked all around her in sheer desperation -- seeking to find him.
To see 𝙱𝚎𝚗.
The blood dripping from her forehead stained her skin - no longer tanned, yet pale.
A ghostly white.
Suddenly, she felt herself trembling.
Her body slowly yet surely succumbing to complete weakness.
The energy exerted upon her last strike -- had taken it (all) from her.
She tripped upon her spent feet; the cold ground the only thing to meet her shoulder.
Falling. . .yet again.
And then -- everything faded.
Resting before the broken throne of her blood's decent.

She was -- 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Her body lay limp upon the stone;
the rubble of the structure scattered about haphazardly alongside the shrapnel of fallen ships
slowly descending from the sky above.
Under a blanket of stars.

The Last Jedi.
ALL the Jedi (?)
Laying to rest -- 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚.
_____

Ben's hand would slap the stone's edge; gripping for dear life.
The sweat beaded upon his forehead as his black locks clung to his face and neck.
Using whatever strength he possessed whatsoever within his mere titanic frame to lift himself up and out of the depths of the structure.
He huffed in compliance to the massive discomfort of propelling himself upwards; his broad chest resting against the frigid, slick stone of the wretched throne room.
Taking a moment to breathe in, he felt the oxygen shock his lungs - cold yet filling.
An inhale of absolute anguish in existence once more; his weary head unsteady as he rose to peer before him.
Nothing but broken statues -- piles of rubble, everywhere.

But suddenly,
it 𝐡𝐢𝐭 him.
He couldn't 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 her presence anymore.
His brown hues immediately in a state of sheer panic; scrambling to find his footing.
Those massive legs sauntering as fast as his body /could/ let him move.
He tripped once more; those arms of his reaching out to catch himself in an attempt to keep himself mostly upright. Internally screaming at himself for not being able to keep pace.
The sound of the debris being skipped across the floor - it's echo ringing in his ears.

His eyes sought to find ( 𝚁𝚎𝚢 ).
NOTHING but her.
The man no longer consumed in darkness -- but the 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 -- surround his being.
Skimming over every singular aspect of the decimated integrity of the location.
Then. . .
Only /then/ did his optics flicker over to the ground.
There she layed -- the 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 of a Jedi.
𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬.

He felt something in his chest cavity as it pinged; his cut lip beginning to quiver upon the sight. His mind skipped like a record in the moment in time -- his body still fallen over, his gargantuan hand to reach for her slender, toned arm; seeking forlorn for a pulse.
Searching for a /single/ sign of utter life against his worn, callused palm.