Chapter 18

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It's the same dream again. No. Nightmare. He hadn't had a single dream ever since he left the academy. Ever since he was forced apart from Rey.

Rey. His little angel Rey. The daughter of Dark Siders.

Even in his nightmare, it was all that consumed him, his thoughts barely on the blazing inferno that was the academy as he stumbled upon body after dead body, firelight and shadows playing across the corpses, the grounds, his bloodied face.

Rey. Rey. Rey. She was here somewhere. Beyond the toppled structures of stone. Beyond the acrid smoke. Somewhere beyond all the chaos, he could sense the darkness within her. Almost the same as the darkness thrumming from within him.

These padawans deserved to die.

He shook his head and stared at his hands, horrified. Every night it was the same nightmare but the horror would not abate.

But unlike many nights, wherein the creature would implore him to give in to the power of the Dark, tonight, it was mysteriously absent. He was the only living creature among the dead.

He continued to move weakly through the academy grounds, his muscles aching, his skin stinging, his cloak singed and torn. He needed to get away from the sickening stench of death all around.

He needed to get to Rey.

He found himself drawn towards the Force Tree. The one tree that loomed over the academy, now bursting into flames. At its base, stood a girl in dark, padawan robes, her back towards him, the three buns behind her brown hair distinct under the brilliance of hellfire.

Rey.

He staggered towards her, one palm up to reach for her, to pull her towards him and take her away from all this.

No sooner had he put his hand her shoulder than she spun around, eyes ablaze with yellow and red, lips set in a sneer.

The pain didn't register at first. It was only when he looked down and saw the plasma blade—glowing an angry crimson—that the pain spread across his chest and burning through his heart, his lungs seizing and screaming for air.

That was how we woke up. Gasping and in cold sweat, mouth and eyes wide open, a hand grabbing at the spot in his chest where Rey had stabbed him.

She'd tried to kill him.

He sat up from the bed of his private quarters in the shuttle and wrapped his black cloak tight around his shoulders. No. It was just a dream. Just a terrible, terrible dream. Rey could never do that.

A flash of memory. Of her screaming at the sight of Luke, of her robbing him of his lightsaber and attempting to kill her master. No. Rey wascapable. Especially as skilled as she was now. But still, she would never try to harm him. She wouldn't. She loved him. She said so herself.

"But what if she finds out the truth?" a voice inside him whispered, and he froze. What if she found out? What if another incident like the one in the Force Tree happened again? What if like Yhorhan, she will follow the call of her blood once the truth was revealed?

And why was he even thinking these things? Was he...scared of her?

He shook his head vigorously. Ridiculous. He had to have a little more faith in Rey. He had to give himself more credit for raising her...but that in itself was a problem. Did he do a good enough job raising her? What if he messed up somewhere along the way? What if somehow, without even realizing it, he was negatively influencing her, unknowingly bringing her closer to the Dark Side?

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