The Final Siths | Kylo Ren

The Escape

The day never quite dawned on Mustafar. Toxic dust from three huge volcanoes formed a veil around the planet that no nearby star could penetrate. For many years, Havre's world has been just a combination of shapes formed by a shadow blacker than the intergalactic void and red light emitted from a living magma river flowing underneath the base. For almost ten years she woke up and went to sleep under the artificial light of quartz lamps, which she could not look at for too long without it causing a pulsating headache. But she got used to it, just like many times before. Her whole life has been about adapting to new painful habits. Firstly, the pain of isolation in the Temple in the humid climate of Korriban, followed by the pain of the rituals, after which she temporarily lost all her senses. Then the pain of her muscles during ten long years of training, and finally the pain of the Descendant's branding burned onto her skin. It was the thing to wake her up that night, although maybe she hadn't been sleeping at all. She sat on the bed and instinctively grabbed her wrist on which the branding was carved. She quickly moved her fingers away, clenching her teeth in pain. She looked at her hand, surprised to discover that the sign, red-hot, burned the tips of her fingers. It was like it knew what she was about to do. She jumped off the bed that was hung above the ground, drowning out the sound of her feet hitting the metal floor. She approached the recess where she held her lightsaber and when her hand touched its cold surface, a wave of peace passed through her. For the first time in so many years, she could close her mind off completely, knowing she wouldn't be forced to let anyone else read it ever again. This feeling, of almost grasping her long-desired freedom, was exhilarating. But she couldn't get distracted, there was no time for excitement just yet. Everything could still fail.

She attached her lightsaber to a leather belt strapped around her thigh and threw a black cloak on her shoulders. It was time for her to go. She knew she had to be in the training room before the First Brother.

'Vanity...' she muttered to herself as a reminder. 'First vanity, then pride.'

She walked through a cold, metal corridor, turned right, and entered the training chamber. It was still empty and all of their equipment laid in order against the walls. She sat down, legs crossed, in one of the red circles painted on the ground that marked the battle positions. She closed her eyes, entering her mind, where, like always, the force was waiting for her to be used. Havre knew it wouldn't take long before she could sense the first Brother's mind, always boiling with uncontrolled emotions from the very minute he would wake up.

And just like she predicted, about five minutes later she could clearly feel a strong pull on the steady rope, that the force resembled in her head. Pure vanity. Havre smiled impulsively with disdain. He was drowning in it. 'So, there is no hope for him anyway' she thought to herself. 'He never had any control over himself.'

'What are you doing here?' She heard a familiar strong voice before her. 'You never come here this early.'

She opened her eyes and stood up, unfocusing her mind on the force.

'I was waiting for you.' She said 'To see just how much you sweat to achieve your pathetic skills.'

Just a few seconds went by in silence in which she, out of pure curiosity, reached into her head again to see just how much she managed to enrage him. The results were above her expectations.

The Brother's face fell.

'How dare you?!' He hissed, frowning.

'Scared?' She drawled, knowing exactly that it would take just this one simple word to get him to let down his guard. The Brother slowly reached his inner pocket and drew his lightsaber. She did the same thing. 'Are you trying to get yourself killed, Brother?' She asked and smirked.