Shadows of Jakku

Space warped around me as I piloted through the void, inputting the village's coordinates with practiced precision. My mind raced, filled with possibilities and consequences, but action would soon overtake contemplation. The battle below beckoned, an unavoidable crucible awaiting my arrival.

As I breached Jakku's atmosphere, the first flames of conflict were already licking at the night sky. My TIE Silencer, faster and more agile than the lumbering command shuttle, touched down on the outskirts of the village. From this vantage point, the brutal mismatch was clear - stormtroopers against villagers, blasters against antiquated weapons. The outcome was inevitable, a forgone conclusion playing out in real time.

I stepped from my ship, the cold desert of Jakku was a stark contrast to the sterile chill of space. The cacophony of battle washed over me - screams, blaster fire, the crackle of flames. In mere moments, Lor San Tekka would be in First Order custody, just as the script dictated. But the plans for Luke Skywalker... those didn't have to follow the same fate.

I stood at the edge of the chaos, the village's destruction unfolding before me. But I wasn't here to oversee the carnage. I had a different purpose, one that required a power I was only beginning to truly understand.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with my feelings, just as I'd seen done countless times in the films. The Force flowed through me, around me, connecting me to every living thing in the village. It was overwhelming at first - a cacophony of fear, pain, and desperation flooding my senses.

Slowly, I learned to filter through the noise, searching for a specific presence. I knew what I was looking for - determination, defiance, a spark of hope amidst the despair. Poe Dameron.

As I concentrated, the chaos around me seemed to fade. In my mind's eye, I could see threads of the Force, crisscrossing the village like a cosmic web. One thread pulsed stronger than the others, vibrating with a familiar energy.

There. In a small hut on the far side of the village. I could sense him, feel his resolve even as fear threatened to overwhelm him. Poe was there, and he had what I was looking for.

My eyes snapped open, a new sense of purpose filling me. I knew where to go, and what to do With measured steps, I began to move through the battle-torn village, my destination clear.

The Force had shown me the way. Now it was up to me to decide what to do with this knowledge.

I strode through the battlefield, an anchor of calm amid the chaos. Blaster bolts crisscrossed the air, leaving trails of light and destruction in their wake. The acrid scent of fear and death permeated the atmosphere, but I remained unaffected. How could I not be, with the Force flowing through me, energizing every fiber of my being? Both sides of the force were thrilled about just what exactly I'd become. All sensing the change within me. I dodged a stray blaster, continuing my march when I felt a familiar presence. An ally.

"My lord." Captain Phasma's modulated voice cut through the din of battle as she snapped into a crisp salute. "You've arrived earlier than expected. We'll redouble our efforts to bring this village under our control."

I tilted my head, addressing her without breaking stride. "Ensure Tekka is brought to me alive."

"My Lord?" Confusion colored her usually impassive tone.

"Focus on the task at hand, Captain," I told her, not bothering to look back.

My attention was already fixed on my true objective – the lone ship on this forsaken desert planet. As I approached, its engines roared to life, the light blinding as the vessel began to hover above the sand. My hand stretched out, ready to force the ship back to the sand when a barrage of blaster bolts from overzealous stormtroopers lit up the night sky. The X-wing shuddered under the assault, its hull sparking and smoking. Two troopers rushed toward the damaged craft, only to be cut down by the ship's defense systems, their bodies rag-dolling across the sand.

The script, it seemed, was determined to play out. But not for long.

I approached the crippled X-wing as Poe scrambled out, BB-8 rolling to meet him. Their hushed exchange reached my ears - the map, Skywalker, the desperation of their mission. Discreetly, I allowed the droid to retreat into the darkness, biding my time.

As Poe turned, his face a mask of determination and fear, I made my move. With a flick of my wrist, his blaster flew from his grasp. Before he could react, the Force wrapped around him like invisible bonds, yanking him towards me. He struggled against my grip, but it was futile.

Our eyes met, his defiant, mine hidden behind the mask. The weight of this moment, the divergence from the known path, hung heavy in the air between us. What came next would change everything - for Poe, for the Resistance, and for the future, I now held in my grasp.

"Greetings, Poe Dameron," I intoned, my voice distorted by the mask. With a raised hand, I sent tendrils of the Force into his mind, watching his eyes widen in fear before they rolled back, his body going limp in my grasp. I released him, letting the Force bear his unconscious form as I turned back towards the village.

The scene that greeted me was one of grim finality. Villagers huddled in a tight circle, surrounded by stormtroopers with raised blasters. Bodies from both sides littered the sand, a pointless sacrifice to the night's violence. Each lost life weighed on me, a reminder of the stakes at play.

I circled the group of captives, feeling their frightened gazes follow my every move. Fear rippled through the crowd as I rejoined my troops, unceremoniously dropping Poe's limp form onto the coarse sand. Slowly, I turned, my eyes finding the man I sought - Lor San Tekka, his face a mask of forced calm.

"We meet again, Tekka," I said, my voice low and measured. Memories flooded unbidden - of the old man's stories, of shared travels, of a legacy I was meant to both embody and destroy. He knew me, the real me, in a way few others did.

"So we have, Kylo Ren," Lor agreed, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment.

"You know what I've come for," I stated, my voice a low rumble through the mask.

"I know where you come from," Lor retorted, his words echoing the script I knew so well. "Before you called yourself Kylo Ren."

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken history. As Lor gathered the courage to speak again, I acted. With a gesture, his jaw clenched shut, held by an invisible force. My lightsaber ignited with a sinister crackle, its crimson blade casting an eerie glow across the sand.

"I know this blade doesn't frighten you," I said, bringing the searing edge close to his neck. The old man's skin reddened from the heat, but his eyes remained defiant. "But I know what does." I gestured towards the huddled villagers, then to Poe's unconscious body. Lor's eyes shake as he looks.

"You will tell me what you know," I finished, releasing my Force grip on his jaw. Turning to the troops, I issued my commands. "Bring these two aboard. Surround the settlement. The people will pay for his insubordination."

As the stormtroopers moved to obey, I watched the scene unfold. Villagers were herded away, their faces etched with fear and confusion. Poe and Lor were roughly handled, and carried toward the waiting ships. The bodies of fallen villagers were unceremoniously burned, while our own dead were collected with military precision.

The weight of each life lost, each decision made, settled on my shoulders. This was the price of power. Smoke rose from the village. Despair rosed higher.

"Phasma," I called out, my gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene. My eyes landed on a stormtrooper with a red-printed helmet - FN-2187, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. But there was something else, something more intriguing about him.

The chrome-armored captain approached, snapping a crisp salute. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Have the prisoners detained in the detention center. No one but me is to interrogate them," I ordered, my tone brooking no argument.

"Of course, Sir."

I paused, considering my next move. "Where's the nearest scrapyard?"

"20 kilometers north, my Lord," Phasma replied, confusion dyeing her voice.

"I won't be returning tonight," I stated firmly.

Phasma stiffened. "My Lord, you can't go alone. It's not safe-"

"I'll take that soldier," I interrupted, nodding towards FN-2187. "Problem solved."

"That one?" Phasma's hesitation was palpable. "My Lord, I believe FN-2187 is... unsuitable at the moment."

"My decision is final," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous chill.

Phasma quickly saluted and retrieved the stormtrooper. I watched as Phasma approached Finn, the latter saluting her as Phasma began instructing him, gesturing towards me. FN-2187 quickly approached me, his conflicting emotions radiated clearly through the Force - fear, confusion, and a desperate need to resolve himself.

"Get in," I commanded, gesturing to my ship. The trooper hesitated for a split second before complying, his movements stiff with tension.

As we prepared for takeoff, I could feel the weight of Phasma's concerned gaze and the curious stares of the other troops. But my mind was already racing ahead, plotting the next moves in this high-stakes game of galactic chess.