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Finn wasn't one to question his friends’ plans, especially those of Rey and Ben. When the two led their speeders out of town, however, into the desert every local at the cantina warned against, he'd very much have liked to.
“Ben knows where he's going, right?” he asked Rey, as close to her ear as her loose maneuvering allowed.
“Of course,” she said confidently, or perhaps it was only the thrill of the ride. They'd been sailing through deep space before touching down, cramped in a small stealth ship. They hadn't seen so much open space in weeks. “He got the maps from one of Luke’s old books.”
That didn't fill Finn with confidence. He didn’t doubt Ben's navigation or the authenticity of the late Skywalker’s library. What he did doubt was that in the centuries since the original cartographer’s visit, the desert’s landscape hadn't changed. Whole civilizations could be buried in a single sandstorm; the likelihood of the temple they were searching for still being above the dunes was astronomically low.
It hadn't belonged to the Jedi, Ben said, or any other group in recent history. The temple was a relic by the time the book's author visited, a legend told to this world's children in the depths of night. Who it'd been home to was unclear, but its purpose had been apparent enough. There was a spring deep in its belly, if the legend was to be believed. The only water source between what were then five great cities. All of them buried now, exposed only at the highest, most decrepit peaks, and as for the temple: no one had reported seeing it in two hundred years.
They might never have, Finn supposed. The compound and it's water source were as likely to be legend as not. Still, the way Ben described it was captivating.
It's not just a spring, he'd said when Finn asked. It's an entire oasis. The temple was erected to protect it, and to house attendant monks.
According to the text, whole trees flowered there, heavy with bulbous fruits. It was good luck to eat from them, and even better to take the water. A single sip could heal sickness, some said, and in rare cases, restore life.
Unsubstantiated, of course, but it was a popular pilgrimage for the ill.
That didn't explain why they were going. None of them were unwell, nor were their friends in the Resistance. But Ben had latched to the map during flight, passing his excitement along to Rey through tales, and when they asked to touch down...well, Finn hadn't the heart to refuse. Their patrol had so far been uneventful, and a few days’ leave wouldn't hurt.
Two days and nights of camping and cruising moonlit dunes, and Finn was beginning to see why the temple received few visitors. On foot, one would likely die before reaching it, and even with transport it was easy to get off course. The landscape was featureless and bleak. If it wasn't for his absolute faith in Ben-- both as a navigator and partner--, Finn would’ve assumed they were lost.
On the third night, their pattern broke. After a few hours of riding, Ben signaled to Rey and the woman rolled her speeder to a halt. Ben swung back, confirming her location, then continued on alone over the dunes.
“Where's he going?” Finn asked, sliding off the stalled speeder.
“To check ahead.” Rey followed suit and tugged the veil from her face. “We must be getting close.”
She pulled a water bottle free and took several deep pulls before tossing it to Finn. The man sipped more carefully, not wanting to waste, and listened to her speculate on their location. She pointed up at the stars, naming the constellations they'd parked beneath.
“It has to be around here,” she muttered. “But something that big, you think we'd be able to see it.”
“Maybe it's buried.”
“It hasn't been that long. At least a spire should--”
Whatever she'd meant to say was cut short by the rumble of Ben's speeder. It shot over a nearby dune and returned, skittering to a stall by their own. He tugged down his own veil and wiped sweat from his lips.
“Find it?” Rey guessed, and Ben nodded.
“You're standing on it, actually.”
Her brow furrowed, and when she spoke again her disappointment rang clear.
“So, what? It's submerged?”
“Mostly,” Ben said, amending when her frown deepened. “But not entirely. There's a way in just beyond the dunes. If you're feeling brave--” He looked between them both. “--we can spend the morning inside.”
“Inside,” Finn repeated, and the other man nodded. “Under the sand.” Another nod, and he couldn't suppress a sigh. “I don't know, Ben. The trip is one thing, but how do we know it's safe?”
Ben shrugged. “We don't, but I'm going in regardless. I'm only saying you can come if you like.”
“No chance you'll change your mind overnight, I guess?”
The other man shook his head, his grin charming-- damn him-- in spite of his stubborn mood.
“I won't force either of you,” he assured. “You're free to wait outside.”
Right. As if Rey would stay behind; as if he himself would let either out of sight.
“If the temple collapses,” he warned, “I'm haunting you, specifically.”
Ben laughed, and frustration aside Finn basked in the sound. It was rare for the other to be so chipper, and that alone nearly made up for the risk.
“I'd be dead too, you realize. But never mind.” He paused, resetting the veil on his wind-chafed face. “I wouldn't let you be crushed.”
Not bothering to explain how he'd prevent it, Ben kicked his speeder into gear. It lurched, rocketing over the dunes, and the two were left to scramble after.
Morning came sooner than Finn would've liked, but as they prepped for entry, his reservation gave way to thrill. There wasn’t much of the temple left above ground, but the few feet of spire that remained were impressive. It had been painted once, judging by the various chunks of stain, but now only stone remained: expertly cut, glittering in the morning sun.
“This should lead to the pool chamber,” Ben said, securing a length of rope to the body of his speeder. “The spire fits the description.”
That was lucky. Finn had no intentions of waiting outside, but he’d been dreading combing the buried halls. It was good to know that the oasis, or whatever was left of it, still had immediate access to the surface. Should something go wrong, there would at least be a quick way out.
Ben went first, tossing the rope through the empty window and scaling the wall. Finn and Rey watched, tapping anxiously at each other’s fingers. It was some distance down; not far enough for him to disappear, but enough for the rope not to reach the bottom. It ended in a dangle several feet from the floor, and Ben had to drop down. Once planted, he whistled for them to follow. The two took it in turns, shimmying down until they found the landing. It echoed under their feet, stony and solid, drawing Ben’s attention from the doorway he filled.
“It’s here,” he whispered, low and reverent. “I was worried--” He chewed his lip, redirected. “But it’s intact, at least. Come.”
The man ducked through the door, beckoning his partners to follow, and they hurried through behind him. Once inside, they flanked him, eyes roving the room.
It was better preserved than Finn expected, given how harsh the desert could be. What little light breached the door played off of faded but otherwise undamaged murals: depictions of monks, strange fruits, and lettering he didn’t recognize. Some native script, Finn supposed. The rumored trees were still present, though they were long dead. Darkness had stripped them of leaves and fruit, and the once-verdant ground beneath was cold and gray. The pool at the center, however, pulsed with life.
Its mouth was wide, circled with flagstones, and the water within it glowed. It cast the room in faint blue light that seemed to buzz and hum. The sound was more sensation than noise, vibrating the soles of Finn’s boots. Strange, but it didn’t seem sinister. Only sentient, if such a thing were possible.
“Do you feel it?” he asked, flexing his toes inside his boots
Eyes fixed on the pool, Ben nodded. “It seems the stories are true.” He licked his lips, then shrugged. “In part, I mean. Healing or not, the well has spiritual qualities.”
Easing onto his knees, Ben scooted to the ledge and peered down into the pool. He studied it in silence, hand passing slowly over the glassy surface. Finn wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and Rey didn’t seem to be either. The two glanced at one another, exchanging furrowed looks, but didn’t interrupt. After a while the man sat back and patted either side of him in invitation.
“It’s safe,” he explained as they settled. “It must move somehow, or replenish itself. The water is perfectly clean.”
Finn didn’t bother asking how he knew that. He’d given up thinking there was anywhere Ben’s abilities couldn’t reach.
“Do you think,” Rey began, then trailed off. Her eyes were fixed on the glowing center of the pool, wide and a little dazed. Finn followed her gaze, squinting through the light. Beneath it, the pool seemed endless. How far did it go? If he dived, could he reach the bottom before he drowned? “Can we drink it?”
Ben considered a moment. “If you like, though it’s customary to have it fed to you by resident monks.”
Finn surprised himself with a laugh. “Don’t think we’re going to find one of those in here.”
The other man didn’t echo the sound, but his mouth turned up all the same. “No, I don’t think we will. But we can make due.” Reaching over his shoulder, Ben pulled a waterskin free. “We’ll give it to each other.”
Carefully, almost with reverence, Ben dipped his bottle into the pool. The hum rolling from it narrowed, working insistently through Finn’s knees, and the light in the pit seemed to brighten. Or maybe it didn’t. Finn wasn’t sure. His nerves were shot, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was a trick of the mind.
Once it was full, Ben drew the bottle back and held it to Rey’s mouth. “For your travels.”
She sipped, then took the bottle from him, pressing it to his lips in turn. She repeated the blessing and Ben drank, wiping the excess from his chin. He took the bottle back and turned to Finn, holding it up in offering. Finn hesitated, though only a moment. The others had, after all, and the buzzing had settled low again. How dangerous could it be?
Titling his head back, he parted his mouth in invitation. Ben smiled, genuine and roused, and brough the bottle to his lips.
“For your travels,” he said again, and Finn drank gratefully.