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The air on Mustafar burns.
Kylo is acutely aware of the presences in the Force burning around him, flickering things of rage and anger and thoughtless devotion as the cultists (Vermin, part of him snarls. Pretenders. Leeches and parasites.) throw themselves at him mindlessly, protecting (preventing him from reaching) their feeble hold on the land. None of them are force sensitive; that much is clear. Not that it matters - all the easier for him.
The air is charged with the remnants of the Dark Side, hungry and powerful and addicting. The air on Mustafar burns not only from the molten rock of the planet, but also from the suffocating presence left behind by Darth Vader. Even now, thirty-one years after his death, his presence looms over the planet like roiling fog. Kylo draws the Force in, allowing it to fill his body, feeling the thrum of power reverberate through his being. It’s no wonder the cultists are fighting with such a mad frenzy - the Dark Side could easily warp an unprotected mind in a place like this.
Kylo’s saber cleaves through the last of the cultists as it throws itself at him in a desperate maneuver. For a moment, the woods around him are silent, the presences he had felt in the Force gone. None of his troopers had survived, and at that realization, Kylo felt nothing. No matter. His body is alight in the Force, humming with rage and power still not yet unleashed, and he reaches out, turning towards what he came here to seek.
The stone table which houses the Wayfinder is simple. He stalks forward, pushing off its lid. Uncovered by the stone, the Force around it calls to him with a presence that is long familiar to him, but not as muted as it was with Vader’s helmet. The presence of the Sith lingers still within the Wayfinder - unsurprising for an artifact made of the Dark. Kylo reaches forward and seizes it, and his whole world tilts on an axis and he finds himself no longer in the forests of Mustafar but in a darkened room in an unfamiliar place.
The girl , he thinks. Snoke is gone, but the bond that he created between Kylo and the girl is still there. He bites back a snarl of impatience - this is not the moment he wants to be speaking to her. He turns, clutching at the Wayfinder, and to his surprise, he finds no one in his sight.
(Are you satisfied, Kylo Ren? )
He frowns. Where is the girl? He knows what a vision is - he has had many - and he is certain this is not one. The Force whispers to him, telling him that this is something like the conversations he had with her - another presence in the Force, connecting with his. She is certainly not trained enough to hide herself in one of these moments, is she? He closes his eyes and reaches out. She’s not there - the only presences he feels are his own, and the muted presence of Vader, still in the air.
(Have you found what you seek?)
“Where are you?” he growls, searching the room. There is a fireplace set in the wall, with the embers of a dying fire still smoldering in its pit. The rest of the walls are bare with one high window overlooking the banks of Mustafar, and the tall door opposite to him is shut. Old robotic arms hang inactive from the ceiling, long rusted and welded into place. In the center of the room is a circular pad, raised from the floor as if to serve as a chair.
Answer, Kylo Ren.
The voice in his head seems to get louder and Kylo ignites his lightsaber, his eyes sweeping the room. “Show yourself,” he shouts. There is a presence in the Force that is growing - something foreign and disgustingly Light - and he has no patience for the interference of any Jedi. It is not the girl - that is for sure. She is not here. For a split second, the presence feels like that of General Organa (Mother, he thinks, and his heart aches), but the moment passes and the presence asserts its unfamiliarity with him once more.
You do not wish for my presence?
“Jedi,” Kylo snarls, and the presence seems to swell behind him. With a cry, he whirls around and slashes at the spirit of the Jedi encroaching on him, and his saber hums through the empty air. The presence moves, and Kylo turns to see a hooded figure sitting cross-legged on the pad in the center of the room. His rage swells - how had the Jedi done this? - and he hurls his saber at the figure, the blade cutting a deadly arc through the air. To his dismay, the plasma flies through and leaves no mark, with the figure giving no indication that it should most definitely be dead right now. For an impossible moment, Kylo wonders if this is the spirit of Luke Skywalker, returned to haunt him. The moment passes, and he realizes this is impossible - the spirit is too tall, too broad-shouldered, its posture different than that of his uncle.
“That won’t work,” The ghost says. His voice is soft and deep, edged with humor and a sort of sadness that Kylo seethes to hear. He doesn’t want to hear the pitying condolences of the ghost of a Jedi. The ghost is doing something to the Force around him, lifting the veil of Vader’s presence from the planet and replacing it with something else. Kylo hates this, hates the wash of Light filtering through the Dark on this planet. How dare this Jedi deface one of the last remnants of his Grandfather? He calls his saber back to his hand and prowls around the room, intending to look the Jedi in the face before he destroys the intruder with the Force.
“What business do you have?” Kylo demands, his rage searing the air around him and pushing at the Light. “You have no place here, Jedi. ” He is taken aback when the ghost laughs, a dark edge bordering on cruelty in the laughter. At this point, Kylo can see part of the ghost’s face. From under the hood, he can see blonde curls peeking out, framing an angular (how is it familiar?) face that seems to carry both gentleness and a hardened edge of coldness. The Jedi’s eyes are closed, but when he opens his mouth, his words carry a grating harshness that makes Kylo feel as though he has been pushed back violently.
“ Jedi? ” The ghost’s lips curl into a humorless smile. “Perhaps I was, once.” Oh? So perhaps it is the restless ghost of a former Jedi. If Kylo could tempt him to the Dark, if he could perhaps urge the former Jedi to work with him… The ghost laughs again, and Kylo begins moving again, hoping to see the face of this spirit. “Do not try to tempt me with false promises of the Dark, Kylo Ren. I can hear your thoughts as loudly as if you were shouting them aloud.”
Kylo seethes, doubling down on his shields as a knot of doubt forms in his stomach. How had the spirit bypassed them so easily? In the back of his mind, something itches at him - something loud that he cannot grasp about this ghost. Out loud, he says none of this. “Did the Jedi betray you?” He draws strength from the Dark power exuding from the Wayfinder in his hand, and breathes in. “What knowledge do you have of the Dark? Of its power? The Jedi-”
“Do not try and lecture me.” There is a different edge to the spirit’s voice now - deeper, more tangible, more cold. The unease Kylo feels grows, the itch at the back of his mind growing stronger. “You call out constantly. ‘Help me, Grandfather. I will finish what you started.’ If you believe that the Dark gives you freedom, then why do you bend your knee to your master?”
“Snoke is dead! I have no master.” Kylo clenches his fist tighter around the Wayfinder, trying to draw strength from the lingering presence of Vader. Fear tightens the knot in his stomach and he draws a deep breath - he cannot lose his control and make a mistake when facing a spirit. He wants to lash out, to command the spirit to leave him, or to destroy the offending ghost. But the Force whispers to him. Stay, it murmurs. You may gain something from this yet.
The ghost scoffs. “You are a slave to the Dark Side. With each passing moment the grip of your anger controls you and you bow to it because you fear what you must face if you turn to the Light.”
“Enough of this.” The glass of the window begins to crack as the leash Kylo has around the Force begins to loosen.
“You convince yourself that the Dark is your only path because you fear facing your mistakes.”
“Stop.”
The spirit is relentless in his biting words. “You hold your anger so tightly you have turned it into your own bonds-”
“Enough!” The fear in his gut unfurls and he tries to draw upon it. The power of the Dark is a cold comfort, settling around him and caressing him like an embrace of chains.
“-so that you can pretend to be free of the suffering you place on the galaxy and on yourself!”
“Who are you to speak to me of this?”
“Are your chains broken through victory?” The ghost does not even deign to turn around to acknowledge his words or to face him fully as he speaks. “Tell me, Kylo Ren. You killed your father. Did you gather strength? Did you gain more power? Has the Force freed you?”
At the mention of Han Solo, Kylo’s composure breaks. “You know nothing of me!” he screams. He gathers the Force in his hand and it bends around him, curling into a seething, boiling wave of power, meant to destroy anything in its path. He unleashes it upon the spirit, his power ripping the remains of the fireplace and destroying the mechanical arms from the ceiling. The roiling Force descends on the spirit-
- and the ghost’s eyes snap open as he throws out his left hand, gathering the searing Force wave around him in a show of power that leaves Kylo stunned. The hand twists, moving as if to tame the Force, and suddenly it flicks out and makes a throwing motion, the Force wave slamming against Kylo, throwing him against the wall so hard he cries out in pain. The Wayfinder and his saber tumble out of his grasp and he collapses to the ground, his breath stolen from his lungs, his vision blurring. The ghost stands. “You are so sure of yourself that you remain ignorant to what stands before you. Use your senses, boy! It will tell you why I know you, Ben Solo .” Ben’s vision clears, his anger sharpening his recovery, and he looks up to see the ghost turn to face him.
Shock lances through his entire being at what he sees. The left side of the spirit is like what he had seen - blonde curls, angular face, dressed in dark Jedi robes, and the eye that stares at him is the same icy blue he has seen in the eyes of Luke Skywalker. The right side, however, is twisted and disfigured. From under the cloak, the Jedi robes are charred, parts of the fabric seared into the dead skin. A mechanical hand lifts up to remove the hood, and Kylo stares and stares at the disfigured and hairless half-face, a sickly golden eye rimmed in red piercing through the darkness as the spirit of Anakin Skywalker finally faces his grandson. “I know you because you’re too much like me,” Anakin says, his voice a mix of disappointment, guilt, and worst of all, a sorrow that seems to cause Kylo’s angry retort to die in his throat (it’s not because he’s always wanted this and Grandfather is not reacting the way he wanted, and it most definitely isn’t because he can hear Leia saying words of disapproval with the exact same tone of voice) as his voice suddenly chokes up in a foreign (but guilt isn’t foreign, is it? Not really.) emotion.
This was all wrong. Those were the words he had wanted to hear, but at the same time, it was not what he wanted to hear. This was not how Kylo had envisioned his meeting with Grandfather. He had imagined a cold approval, delivered with as much warmth as the tundras of Hoth, given with knowledge and a way to strengthen his power. A thousand words burn and die in his mouth before the words of a broken boy tumble out of his mouth before he realizes he has said them. “Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” His voice is weak and shaking and he hates it, he hates how pathetic he sounds and he hates how he doesn’t even have the strength to stand.
Grandfather’s face twists in anger. “I have. But even in death, I cannot break the hold my master has over my blood.” He spits the word and Kylo’s blood runs cold.
“Palpatine?” He asks. “But I thought he only-”
The ghost cuts him off. “He has poisoned your mind from the beginning, grandchild. Think. When he called out to the galaxy, what did you feel?”
Kylo doesn’t want to think. He wants to stand and run, to leave the pitiless voice of Grandfather. He itches with the need to give in to the Dark, to vent his rage and to allow himself to be free in a maelstrom.
( But it isn’t truly freedom, is it? )
The Force murmurs to him and he closes his eyes, calling back the perplexing memory of Palpatine’s broadcast. The itch in the back of his mind starts again, annoying and persistent, until-
Kylo’s eyes snap open as he stares at the ground in horror. “No!” he breathes. The knot in his gut curls again and he wants to be sick.
“ Yes. ” Grandfather hisses, the closeness of his voice making Kylo flinch. He looks up to see Anakin standing over him, tall and imposing. “Snoke. Sidious. From the beginning, he has whispered to you, spoken to you of promises and left you with sweet venom. Do you see what I mean by how you are not free?” Anakin’s voice is sharp, honed with a deep mechanical edge. “Your mind is hidden through a veil of his doing, Kylo Ren. I could not speak to you because he held you in his grip. But now-” He nods towards the Wayfinder, yellow and blue eyes glaring with disgust. “Like a holocron, the Wayfinder is deeply personal to its creator.”
“So this is my link to you?” Kylo asks. Part of him is still reeling. Snoke is gone - he still remembers the shock in the Supreme Leader’s eyes as he died on his throne - but he had never truly lived. To know that Snoke might as well still live - to know that he, Kylo Ren, was not free -
The cracked window shatters. The hot Mustafar wind blows through, scorching and dry, and Kylo finally realizes where he is. The burning atmosphere of this planet is intensified in this place, where the window is watching over the wound non-Force sensitives cannot feel - the searing heat of pain, of hate, of a love between brothers suddenly and violently torn apart.
“Yes.” Anakin’s answer brings Kylo’s thoughts back to the present. “That is why I speak to you now.”
“But why did you bring me here?” Kylo asks.
Grandfather nods towards the window, his gaze turning bitter, and Kylo finds his eyes drawn once more to the wound in the Force that seems to howl on one of the slopes. “To show you.” The former Sith turns again, his blue-gold eyes piercing and merciless. “There is a wound in the Force, there on the slopes. Do you feel it?”
“I do.” From what Kylo can sense, the wound seems to be bathing in darkness. He reaches out and touches it, suddenly recoiling from the absolute wrongness that seemed to come from it. The Force there is still howling in misery, writhing in a darkness that he can’t seem to draw strength from. Whispers from the past gnaw at his consciousness as the wound snarls, searching for a way to relieve its pain. Kylo doubles down on his shields again, refusing to let his mind be weakened by this, and yet…
(I hate you!
You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.)
Kylo ignores the unfamiliar memories, turning to Grandfather once again. “Grandfather, why are you showing me this? What do you want?”
“I ask you to listen to me, Kylo Ren.” At the confused look Kylo shoots at him, Anakin’s gaze hardens. For a moment, a distorted mask seems to flicker over his features, demonic and familiar. Vader’s mask. “You want the wisdom of Darth Vader? You can have it. The Dark Side will take your allies, your freedom, and your very soul, and you will give them up willingly. It will promise you strength as it weakens you. It will promise you freedom as it binds you. It is a weakness.”
“You’re lying,” Kylo denies. This cannot be Grandfather; Snoke had believed that Vader’s turn to the Light at his death had been just a simple mishap, a hiccup in what would have been the long reign of the Sith, ruined by the return of the Jedi. Vader would not say this! He would be proud. He should be proud. Kylo tries to push himself up, tries to draw on the Dark to give him strength, but his body fails him and all he manages is to stumble backwards a step. “It gives me power, not weakness. You’re a trick of the Light.”
“Ha! A trick of the Light?” Anakin’s scorn leaks through the Force, startling Kylo (no, he did NOT jump nearly a foot in the air, he was powerful, he was not afraid ). “The Light alone has no purpose without the Dark. You have immersed yourself in the Dark Side, trapped yourself in it, as I had. Use your senses, Ben Solo- ”
“That is- that’s not my name!” Kylo spits. Grandfather continues as if he hadn’t spoken.
“-and feel the Force around you! You reject the Light, yet that is not what I bring with me. I could care less if you do not return fully to the Light, Grandchild, ” Anakin snarls, spitting the word as if it were an insult, and Kylo feels a stab of hurt mingled with surprise. “What I care is that you use your mind and think! ”
Kylo scowls, his pride stinging and his heart thundering in his chest. Reluctantly, he reaches out, ready to meet the Light he had felt filtering through the place, and-
Shock lances through his entire body, his bruised ego forgotten. Despite himself, he can’t help but suck in a gasp as he stares at the Force around him. Around the room, radiating from the ghost of Grandfather and filtering through the Darkness, is a pure, perfectly balanced grey . For a moment, Kylo can’t help but stare in wonder, his mouth open in amazement, basking in the feeling of something that just felt so right .
“Do you see it now?” whispers Grandfather. Kylo can’t bring himself to respond, so all he does is push out a small wave of aweunderstandingwonder in response. In the corner of his eye, he can see Grandfather’s mouth tic upwards in a small smile.
Kylo turns towards his Grandfather. For a perfect second, Anakin is staring at him with something like approvallovejoy and a warm feeling starts blooming in Kylo’s chest. In the back of his mind, something snarls at him, telling him that he’s turning towards the Light, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can’t believe that he’s forgotten this feeling. He tries to remember the last time he felt it, and thinks back to Leia-
The moment cuts short and Kylo feels like he’s been hurled into the wall again, guilt surging over him in waves. Leia. Mother.
He hadn’t lay a hand on her - he couldn’t, not even when his hand was on the trigger of his TIE - but he had hurt her so much. He remembered the agony he had felt after killing Han Solo, and how part of that pain was not his own, echoing so strongly through a bond he thought he had blocked from his mother.
“Ben.” Grandfather’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, quiet and understanding. It’s no longer cold and sharp, like Vader’s voice. “It’s not too late for you.”
“ How? ” Kylo gasps out. A sudden strength surges through him and he jerks his head up to stare at Anakin. “I can’t go back to her. I can’t-” His voice catches in his throat, constricted with foreign emotion. Feebly, he tries to reach for the Dark, to gather strength, but he recoils the moment he touches it. It’s too wrong, too cold, too slimy and too tempting, writhing at him like a sarlacc seeking its prey.
“I know,” Grandfather whispers, and he kneels beside Kylo. Anakin’s blue-gold eyes are disconcerting, filled with a sympathy that Kylo would have railed against only a few moments ago, but now only serves to make him feel worse. “Oh, Ben,” Anakin sighs, “You really are too much like me.”
Like the first time he said it, Grandfather’s words sting deeply. To find comfort, Kylo reaches for the Force - this time, for the pure, balanced grey - and to his surprise, he finds himself gaining a stronger hold on his emotions. He looks up. “What must I do, Grandfather?”
Anakin's ghost starts to flicker, and to Kylo’s dismay, he realizes that his vision is ending. Grandfather speaks. “I’ve given you knowledge, Ben. You’ve vowed to me, many times, to finish what I started. So finish it. ”
Between one blink and the next, Ben finds himself suddenly back in the forests of Mustafar, the Wayfinder in his hand. He glances down, feeling the purified grey in the Force emanating from the object, and stands.
As he makes his way to his ship, he thinks back to the last time he had seen the girl. Let the past die, he had said. Kill it if you had to.
So that would be what he was going to do to fulfill his promise to Grandfather.