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- “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.
- Then he threw an image right back at her. Tally marks, scratched into the wall of her downed, sand-filled AT-AT. “Do you still count the days since your parents left? Such pain in you. Such anger.” He began walking toward her.
- She steeled herself.
- “Where are you?” he asked, reaching for her mind, grabbing something before she could barricade her thoughts. “Somewhere that reminds you of home on Jakku. Of waiting for your parents. The ache of being alone.”
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