The Rise of Skywalker (Star Wars: Novelizations, #9)

by Rae Carson

Then he had smiled, with that wide farm-boy grin that had stayed with him all the way up until the night of Ben’s betrayal.

Determination is not the same as readiness, Leia would say.

Ren was a blunt instrument, a mindless dog, whose current obsession was putting all the First Order’s plans behind schedule.

The glow of his lightsaber occasionally snagged on his cheek scar, making it appear as though a crack of glowing lava slashed his face.

Kylo Ren was Supreme Leader of the First Order. Before that, he’d been the leader of the Knights of Ren. Before that, he’d been the presumptive heir to the Skywalker legacy and the son of a princess. So he’d been subjected to false flattery and sycophantic compliments his whole life, and he refused to give them power. Then, and especially now.

The Knights of Ren raised their weapons in honor as Kylo placed the mask over his head. It was heavier than ever. It reeked of molten metal. It was perfect.

“To find the darkest place in the galaxy you will need to face the darkest part of yourself.”

Knowing something in her head was different from knowing it in her heart. Rey had understood on some level that she wasn’t alone anymore, but now she knew it, and it was so wonderful it hurt. Tears filled her eyes. Loneliness was a kind of agony. But belonging was another.

Hux distrusted masks on principle, but he was glad for Ren’s because it spared him the indignant assault of the Supreme Leader’s hair. A good leader led by example, and Ren’s hair was the furthest thing from regulation. A small detail, to be sure, but details mattered, and this one represented everything Hux hated about Ren. He was the exception to everything. Outside the rules. Disordered.

“I see through the cracks in your mask,” she said. “You’re haunted. You can’t stop seeing what you did to your father.” She imagined that moment as clearly as she could, Han’s hand on Kylo’s cheek, gazing at his son with love even as his dying body slumped over the chaotic red lightsaber that had skewered him. Rey wrapped her mind around the image. Threw it at Kylo. He flinched.

But Poe had learned that when Rey said things that way, her face determined, her voice unwavering, a fellow ought to just follow.

You had to kill the past, yes, but you had to kill the light, too, to fully claim the darkness. He finally understood. Han Solo was his past. But Rey was his light. That’s why Kylo was still in agony.

Zorii said something in Anzellan, and Babu responded as though annoyed at being interrupted. The words were delightful, clanging against one another fast and curt, like metal parts tumbling into a melting vat. Rey wished she had time to learn the language.

Zorii touched the side of her mask. Her visor shield retracted, finally revealing depthless wide-spaced green eyes that seemed almost yellow in the lamp light. Poe swallowed hard. Her eyes had always affected him strangely. “Wanna come with me?” she said, sounding suddenly vulnerable.

He saw flashes of the Wookiee laughing with a much younger Han Solo than he himself remembered. Felt Chewbacca’s joy when his best friend married the woman he’d come to love like a sister. Saw the Wookiee cuddling a human toddler, teaching an older boy to fly a speeder, target practice with a young man, their blasters set on stun against a haphazard dummy made of rocks. Uncle Chewie, he’d called him back then.

Poe took the medallion, but his feet were rooted. How could he leave Zorii again? What do you even say in a moment like this? He settled for, “Can I kiss you?” “Go,” she ordered, giving his chest a shove, but he smugly noted the amusement in her voice.

“My mother was the daughter of Vader. Your father was the son of the Emperor. What Palpatine doesn’t know is that we are a dyad in the Force, Rey. Two that are one.” Her heart stopped. The dyad. His words rang with truth, deep in her very soul. They shattered her, emptied her of everything.

He removed his mask. A gesture of vulnerability. Of trust. It suddenly occurred to her how long it had been since she’d seen his face. The scar on his cheek had faded, but it would still mark him forever.

He kept seeing her face, the way her lips had parted with surprise, the way her body had canted toward him. If the Millennium Falcon hadn’t appeared, she might have come to him, taken his hand.

tactical interface. It had cost her nearly forty thousand credits. Some people considered it crass to name fighter craft, but she’d named hers anyway: Comeuppance.

Somehow, she knew that he would never wear his mask for her again.

He sent the thought directly into her mind: I know you. No one does, she shot back. But I do.

She was Leia Skywalker Organa Solo. As she caressed Han’s medal, she fully embraced all those inheritances.

And she would pass them all to the next generation. Her Skywalker legacy would go to Rey, Organa to Poe, and she would try one last time to pass her Solo legacy to her son.

Lando reached forward and flicked the hologram switch. An image of Chewbacca himself was projected onto the disk in soft blue. He held a small human child in his arms. Lando leaned closer. It was Ben, dark-haired, chubby-fisted. He kicked his legs and yanked on Chewie’s fur, shrieking in delight. Chewbacca just cuddled him close, making a sound that was almost like a purr.

He acknowledged her, and Rey’s lips parted in surprise. It felt different now. The connection was…right. Good. Like coming home. Ben was similarly stunned, and together, they wasted a precious moment reveling in this new sharing. This is how it should have been all along. A true dyad. The Emperor and Snoke had robbed them of this.

Ben poured everything into her. He found reservoirs he didn’t know he had. He gave her his whole self. Her diaphragm rose with a breath, and her warm hand covered his. Her eyes lit up. Rey seemed surprised to see him. She sat up, but she didn’t draw away.

He had given Rey back to the galaxy. It wouldn’t atone for the darkness he’d wrought, but it was what he could do. Ben Solo had no regrets as he collapsed to the ground. The Force reached for him in welcome. His final awareness was of Rey, clasping his hand with her own.

A voice came to her through the Force, clear and strong. I will always be with you, Ben said. She smiled. Let the truth of it wash over her. “No one’s ever really gone,” she whispered.

“The Resistance is a million people, a thousand places.”