"Rey."

Her body suddenly jolted, awakening with a startled gasp at the unexpected call of her name. She had fallen asleep, her head and shoulder propped alongside the base of a stone pillar, leaving an ear exposed to whoever was near to have murmured their plea, and leaning while doing so, over her sleeping form.

Except when her eyes sprang open Rey's only visible sign of companionship were burning remnants of the campfire that Poe assembled during the earlier hours of evening's descent.

A swell of darkness, unscathed by the fire's warm afterglow, served as a shadowy backdrop beyond the area she'd fallen asleep, its veil within her vicinity was partially broken by small particles of moonlight, peering through cracks and evenly-spaced pillars around the unknown fortress' stone framework.

The echo of her blood pulsing inside her ears raged like a battering war drum, rather than the average steady beat of the heart. Tiny beads of sweat dappled her forehead, extracting a powerful shudder from her muscles that spanned the extent of her shoulders and back, commencing with the evening's bitter cold.

Her more rational state of mind wished to reason with the latter's belief that the voice she heard belonged to Poe rather than Ben, while tentatively scanning her eyes around the circular-shaped fortress. But persuading herself to believe otherwise proved to be more of a struggle when she already knew that her senses reined truth.

Her stomach prickled at the essence of reassurance, setting aside her doubt that the voice was indeed Ben's though it was the manner of how he spoke that made her stomach to churn, sensing the tumultuous pain that he was in. Where he generally allotted affection and fondness within his timbre, the voice that she heard was near warning-like, adding on the allusion of sorrow and desperation and begging for her help.

"Ben?" She called out, her voice hanging above the octave of a whisper. Unfortunately, the deafening song of silence and the wind's eerie moans penetrating holes scattered amongst the fortress' defenses was all that answered.

Rather than raising her voice louder, fearing the chance of waking Poe from his hidden resting place after the long day's worth of traveling, she planted a hand onto the stone pavement beneath her, assisting in the ability to rise from the awkward position she'd settled in.

She winced at the small object that her palm discovered, brows furrowed and confused that it wasn't made of stone like the additional rubble scattered amuck. Slowly, her fingers curled around the foreign artifact and drew it closer to her face, meaning to study it within the dim but suitable lighting.

Eyes narrowed in scrutiny she drew in a sharp breath, recognizing the object that was safely nestled in her hand to be an Alderaanian leaf: a metallic brooch typically worn on cloaks by the Elves of Alderaan. Questions of how it came to be within her possession started to rise, considering the last she'd seen an object similar to the pine green and silver-lined leaf was her last visitation with Ben during Eve of Autumn's final hours – just weeks before his disappearance.

Her bottom lip quivered, tears nipping the backs of her eyes. Carefully, she ran the pad of her index over the familiar accessory, mulling over whether it was fate's way of assuring her that not all hope was lost for Ben. That was before the swift motion drew her awareness toward the dark apparition coming to stand before her, blocking what little light she'd been given by the fire's tepid luminescence.

Her chin rose to distinguish the silhouette's tall and prominently broad stature, consumed by horror as all color from her cheeks drained to ashen. Its face was wholly concealed in darkness by a hooded robe. Chrome gauntlets and protective coverings obscured the figure's hands.

The figure slowly advanced toward her, wielding a sword whose cutting edges appeared ragged and unrefined in its craftsmanship. The figure muttered a word in a language that was far beyond her comprehension, and its blade magically engulfed into an unsteady crimson blaze, moments after drawing the weapon from its holster.

She wanted to scream, instincts urging her to reach for a weapon of her own but the notion was proven fruitless. Every muscle in her body refused to obey the commands of her brain. She could only stare helplessly, eyes fixed on the Wraith drawing back its arm, waiting with borrowed breath as the dark figure took aim at its prey.

The nightmare had ended before the dark assailant was able to attack. Rey ought to have been frightened, for not knowing what might've become of her had she not opened her eyes at that very second. She should've been afraid yet death was something she'd been trained to look in the eye on a daily basis, concerning the wary, living things that'd begun to descend from the northern hills into Naboo.

While the vision clearly gave her glimpses of fear and death, there had also been a sign of hope that a certain life remained at bay. For within the presence of her dark foe she'd heard Ben's voice and, for reasons unbeknownst to her, the Alderaanian trinket was still lying safely in her palm after awakening from the dream.

She hadn't felt more certain that Ben was alive than she did within that moment, though his whereabouts remained behind a veil of mystery. Now, it was just a matter of finding him with what little pieces to the puzzle she was given, and not worry of whether the rival in her dream and Ben were one and the same. While she had purposely set out to discover this dark rider, bearing the only reason for its identity being Ben was its ability to speak Elvish, her reaction to discovering the possibility that her love was living amongst the enemy had yet to be determined.

She carefully clasped the small pin to the neckline of her cloak, wrinkling her nose when she caught a whiff of the foul stench blown by a draft through the cave, where she and Poe had settled into later the night before. The shallow cavern appeared to have been abandoned for some time, regarding the three weathered statues of Cave Trolls within meters of the fissure's entrance, hardened and set in stone.

They had left a vast collection of unguarded treasure: stolen daggers, swords and other forms of weaponry, lifelines forged by the elders of her kin. Had she not been so keen on finding Ben, she would've gathered the elegant weapons and returned them to their true places of rest, and not leave them to rot inside a decaying hole inside the earth. The thought alone made her blood simmer, and she couldn't have gotten out of the cave fast enough to join Poe with the dire need of fresh air.

She found him perched upon a boulder that was somehow split into two equal formations, gazing out at Middle Earth's wide-open grassland that'd begun to show its true colors of rapidly changing seasons, serving as a blemish to the sky's cosmic hues of pinks and orange provided by the morning's late-rising sun. While the sweeping green pastures were tarnished by the cooler temperatures, the surrounding evergreens retained their vibrant hues, providing a rich palette of green that segregated them from the Misty Mountains' softer complexion.

"You're awake earlier than usual," Rey declared, reaching a hand into her satchel to acquire a small piece of Lembas that would silence the subtle rumble in her stomach, freshly wrapped in its original Mallorn covering. It had been days since they'd last eaten and the small ration would surely be enough to fill her for at least another week's journey. She raised the coated wafer up for her companion to take a piece for himself, but Poe kindly declined the offer with a curt shake of his head.

"As are you," Poe countered with a soft bit of sarcasm, turning on his heal to take leave from his look-out. He landed before her with a graceful thud, barely bending his knees when his boots came in contact with the earth. "It is usually mid-morning by the time I see you up and about – on a good day at that."

Rey laughed anemically, knowing that it wasn't from the truth but the frown never reached her face until she lowered her chin, focused on having to carefully refold the crisp ration and return it to the sack that hung loosely at her side.

"What are your thoughts on dreams?" She scoffed, her eyes broadly swept from the satchel to Poe.

His expression made it more than apparent that Poe already knew the direction of which the topic was drifting towards. He knew Rey, better than any other elf in Naboo, enough to know she would never ask such an off-handed question without having some sort of preliminary purpose behind it.

"I think that dreams can be most telling about the person for whom they belong to," Poe mused, drawing his eyebrows up at the need to humor her further. "They are but mere reflections of our innermost fears and desires in life. Sometimes they show us what we want to see, while some can also show us the past – and the present."

Rey swallowed heavily. "And what about the future?" she pressed, her eyes remaining fixed on his.

Poe shrugged, his eyes wide and uncertain. "It's possible I guess. But, like most things that have not yet to pass, the future is always changing. It's never set in stone."

Rey nodded, agreeing to an extent. "But what if there was a way that the future could be changed?"

Poe regarded her skeptically. He hauled his arms into a tense fold over his chest, bobbing a nod. "Go ahead," he assured, lowering his chin. "I'm listening."

Rey drew in a shaky breath, her posture stiffly mirroring his. "I had a dream this morning, and I think it was trying to tell me something about Ben though I can't be certain of what it is."

Poe frowned. "So, you saw him?"

"No," she affirmed, shaking her head. "But I heard him, as clear as I'm able to hear you now. But his sounded – closer."

"Rey," Poe sighed, rolling his neck, "this doesn't mean anything."

Rey flexed her jaw and groaned, perturbed that he wasn't seeing her reasoning. "Then explain to me how I got this," she urged through gritted teeth, pulling at the neckline of her cloak where the Elven brooch visibly clung. "This came to me in my dream and was in my hand when I woke up."

Poe remained undeterred. "That cave was rich in treasures of our kin, Rey," he affirmed. "It doesn't tell us anything."

Rey narrowed her eyes, voice lowering to a whisper. "Do you even know what this is? Or at least withhold some sort of awareness to who wears it?"

"I am very well aware of what that is," Poe replied grimly. "And like all Elves – those from Alderaan are just as mortal to the blade as us. You, of all people, Rey, should know that."

She broke the stare down and lowered her eyes to the stitches that embellished the front of his tunic, her hand clutching the garment on her cloak whilst fighting back the moisture that'd begun to burn her eyes.

The words were painful to hear, but Rey had heard them more than enough to know that she should've expected defeat. Still, it didn't make the fact of knowing she was always alone within her belief that Ben was alive to hurt any less, while evidence continued pointing towards the nether in the eyes of those who lived in disbelief.

"We should get moving," Poe stated serenely, his eyes fixed on the object that she was clutching. "We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."

**

The rain had just begun its assault when Rey and Poe picked up the faint sounds of voices, crying in distress. At first muffled by engorged raindrops, forcing the drenched fabric on the hoods of their cloaks to cling to their bodies, the shouts for aid quickly rose to the piercing shrieks as the pair leaped with ease over Takodana's rolling terrain. Bows tightly clenched in fists they relied on what little moonlight was given to them and followed the sounds of fearful wails, guiding them to where help was needed.

It wasn't until they came upon the region's highest summit when they caught a glimpse of whose call they'd unwittingly answered. Rey skidded to a halt in her tracks, discerning the familiar scenery and those that'd assembled within the fortress' ruins with eyes wide open. The deafening resonance of blood rushing to her ears, merging with the torrential downpour, hindered her ability to properly hear Poe's amplified words of caution.

Once Rey was able to push past the initial fact that the location was where the events from her dream had taken place, she finally allowed her brain to decipher the images of whom her eyes settled on.

The famous helmet of the Witch King was within her view. And it was then when she finally felt the heaviness of everything come crashing down, regarding the main reason why she and Poe had embarked on the journey. All those years of listening to her intuition that Ben was alive had come down to that very moment, fearing to leave with her heart completely shattered.

"Do not kill him," Rey instructed, lowering her chin from the towering height of the stronghold to Poe at her side. She blinked to rid her lashes of trickling water droplets, eyes firm to enforce the seriousness of her words.

Poe shook his head. "Our weapons do not hold such capabilities," he regretfully assured. "But they can – and will – most certainly kill you. It is the Ring that they want. And they will do what they must to ensure that they get it."

"Then you can find a way to lure the others away," she affirmed. "And get whoever is up there that needs our help to safety. I just need to get him alone."

"Rey," Poe started, bringing his face closer, "you do not know who he is. Whether that thing is Ben, or not, the Ring's power over him is much stronger than anything you could ever offer him."

Rey winced at Poe's rebuke. "You're wrong," she spat, squaring her shoulders with muscles tensed. "There is still light in him – I've felt it. The Ben Solo that I know never would have chosen this life on his own. And that sliver of light remaining is something that's worth fighting for."

Poe ran a free hand over his mouth and nodded, forced to relent. "Just...promise me one thing, okay?" He asked, not allowing Rey to answer as he took a step back. "It is possible that this may not go accordingly, and I need to have your word that you will know the time when to let go."

Rey scoffed at his terms, knowing it was a promise that she couldn't keep. However, for the sole purpose of parting on better terms, since she and Poe would be approaching the mound from opposite sides, she simply nodded. It made it harder to watch him walk away, realizing that her chances of seeing him again were perhaps unlikely.

But Rey wasn't ready to accept ambiguity for fate. Not yet. Not when she could still excel at the mission and bring Ben home, convinced that not all who wandered were lost. The viability of Ben having chosen to become the Witch King at his own accord made as much sense as Rey choosing to have been orphaned, making her believe that it was decided for him.

Reaching a hand over her shoulder, she plucked an arrow from her quiver and made her way to the round-about stairwell, carved into the side of the mountain. She worried the projectile's feathers between her fingers, holding it secure to the weapon's drawstring as she ascended the winding stairs. The air felt heavier the closer she drew to the evil lurking at the top. She forced herself to keep her thoughts clear, senses primed and focused on the objective for that of what she needed to do.

When she treaded over the final set of steps she was able to see the Witch King up close, his back exposed to her, while the other four Nazgul flanked their leader at either side in pairs. She couldn't see the identity of who was holding their attention down along the lone barrier, neither was she able to hear them speak through the deafening raindrops. All she knew was that their swords were drawn and held to attack for a reason.

Swallowing the heavy lump that'd formed at the back of her throat, she raised the bow and arrow to take aim at her target. Holding her breath, she hauled the tension string back with a firm and swift tug, preparing herself for what would happen when she released her grip.

Dihen- nin, Ben, she murmured to herself. And she truly hoped he would forgive her should the evening not end in peril.

**

The arrow struck true to its mark, piercing Kylo at mid-shoulder blade. The arrow held its place for a matter of seconds before disintegrating into purified particles of dust. It didn't hurt, not like it would've had he been of true Elven form, but it still nonetheless served a subtle pinch before evaporating into the breeze.

The unexpected hit tore him from the Ring's enchantment, thwarting his awareness past the shrill cries of fellow Wraiths toward the fortress' rear entrance where the projectile had extended from. His blind hatred for the lone archer that his sights settled upon drowned out the surrounding cataclysmic events, as another attacker gained the other Wraiths' attention.

Now, Kylo was too far gone within the uprise in anger to notice that the once hollow sector inside his heart no longer felt so empty. His girth flexed around the hilt of his sword when a powerful gust of wind brought forth the faint aroma of the assailant. The enemy was an elf, judging by the exceedingly lean outline to its figure and the musky smell of earth and honeysuckle, the elf was of the Woodland realm as well as a female.

He was almost surprised that she showed no signs of retreat when he advanced. Instead, he watched her bravely barter the elegant recurve for the sword being drawn from the holster at her hip and took to a defensive stance. He commended her bravery though at the same time found her stupid.

"I have always been aware of the arrogance that elves are capable of possessing," he sneered, stopping suddenly a few steps before her. He towered above her easily, intimidating her more with his height and forcing her neck to crane back. "But such utter stupidity from an elf is something that's quite new to me."

A heavy pause lingered between his insult and her reply as if it hurt for her to speak; although, it wasn't fear that he felt radiating from her. This sort of particular emotion went deeper.

"If that's supposed to frighten me," she countered, her voice pained, "I must regretfully inform you that it doesn't."

There was a familiarity to her voice, nagging and imploring that he knew her somehow, and was nearly worse than the pull emitted by the Ring. Her eyes were hidden beneath the shadowy visage of her hood, deflecting the moon's light as the rain slowly gave way to partially clouded skies. It wasn't as if knowing who she was had mattered to him anyway. Her presence was the reason why the Ring had been taken from his grasp.

"But you should be afraid," he presumed gravely. "Your weapons pose no threat to me. I cannot be killed by man."

Chin held high, her response reined poise. "Then I guess that is unfortunate for you because I'm not a man."

His lips twitched at the corners, though Kylo couldn't resist pitying her. It was clear she had no idea of whom she was wanting to rise up against. All it would take was for him to simply drive his blade into her flesh and she'd be met with a fate far more excruciating, and worse, than death. And that was the lesser of what skills he'd come to fully possess.

The Morgul dagger of a Ringwraith was doused in poison, untreatable by any ordinary medicine other than its powerful antidote, Elven magic. Once the blade was able to acquire the taste of its victim, a shard would break away and remain within the body of its prey. Slowly, the shard would begin evolving into a powder-like substance, and gradually work its way through the body to the victim's heart, resulting in the birth of a newborn Wraith.

But Kylo wasn't interested in turning her. However, the longer he continued speaking to her, the more he found it harder to understand why he hadn't killed her. He could humor her of course, allow her to give a few strikes before he would dispose of her and return to what was needed of him elsewhere.

"Then you are a fool," he affirmed coolly. "And you will die that of a foolish death."

She stared at him and hesitated to move at first, for which he considered leaving had she not insisted on making the initial move. He hastily met the edge of her blade with his, deflecting her downward strike and lunged the full extent of his weight into the block. The motion nearly sent her tumbling over the stairwell's edge though she was quick in her recovery.

She quickly came at him again, and again. Kylo continued to meet her collisions with parries, and every time he all but sent her hurtling over the nearest edge of the summit as their dance continued.

Bearing the majority of her weight on the balls of her feet, she lunged at him with a flying leap into the air. Kylo sidestepped the incoming assault with effortless ease. Pivoting on his heal, the sole of his armored boot came in contact with her plated chest, propelling her like a ragdoll into a mound of rubble and she landed with grunt. Her sword clanged upon contact with the stone flooring, gliding a few feet from where she landed.

"Glenn-, hi," he growled lowly, warning her to flee in Elvish and gave the blade at his side a cautionary flourish. However, the question why he'd chosen to grant her mercy reined at the forefront of his thoughts like a blazing beacon.

He held her shielded gaze for a moment as she proceeded to do with him, her chest heaving from exertion while he showed no signs of tiring. He turned to walk away, ignoring the spasm in his heart that pleaded for his stay, saying that her importance to him was as similar to the Ring's.

But before Kylo was able to withdraw from his actions, he drove the end of his blade through her shoulder as she made a daring effort to catch him off-guard. Eliciting a guttural cry in anguish she fell to the stone paving, her hand grasping the wound that bore the severed piece of the blade.

He crouched alongside her, meaning to finish her off though he couldn't resist wanting to know his assailant's true identity. He raised an armored hand to her hood and slowly urged it back from her face. The moment he saw the clouded irises of her eyes he caught a fleeting glimpse of vivid images, flashing before his eyes.

While the memories weren't his own, Kylo was somehow living within those memorable frames under the guise as an elf, sharing a tender kiss upon a bridge with the same woman that was dying at his feet, and the moon's iridescent glow serving as their spotlight. He was certain he could feel the softness of her lips skimming over his before the image suddenly shifted to the resounding voices of children laughing, running through a forest lit by lanterns.

He continued seeing the same memories as if they were manually set to shuffle on repeat, flickering like a violent strobe of light that forced his eyes to clench shut. It was within the final moments of playback when Kylo finally reeled himself from her, uttering a name with no recollection of how he knew it.

"Rey," he breathed, unaware that his lungs were capable of heaving air. Kylo nearly came out of his lucid skin at the sound of Aramor's unnerving voice as the Wraith approached from the side.

"The ringbearer has escaped with the assistance of the elf and ranger," he hissed, paying no mind to the woman at their feet.

While pondering the next course of action not once did Kylo remove his eyes from Rey. "Follow them," he growled hoarsely. "And do what you must to ensure that you get it this time."

"You're not coming, master?"

Kylo slowly raised his helmet, regarding Aramor's hidden features. "My business is my own," he explained, lowering his voice to a menacing octave, "but I suggest that you do not fail me again."

Aramor silently nodded and left without further dispute; although, Kylo couldn't help but wonder if the Wraith had its own suspicions as to why he insisted on lingering. He slowly worked his eyes back to Rey's, knowing it was only a matter of time before she would enter his world. For Kylo to have his questions of the mysterious connection that he shared with her answered he would need her alive.

Unfortunately, healing someone that'd been infected with Morgul poison required the use of a very complicated ability: one that Kylo was uncertain if he possessed.