the lost princess 1/2 | Kylo Ren x sister! reader
warnings: none! word count: 5.3k
It had been ten years since Moira had last seen her older brother — Ben. Well, he wasn’t really Ben anymore by the time she saw his face across the sky. Her violet eyes flickered with surprise, bright as the stars around her, catching sight of him — the brother who had once called her his Moira, his light, the one he had laughed & loved with as if they were twins, though two years apart. He had long ago convinced himself she was dead, believing their uncle Luke had taken her to keep her from joining him.
Ben remembered the friction that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to pool and spill out like molten magma. He remembered how her eyes would darken for a heartbeat before she blinked, and whatever it was — it vanished. And he remembered the tears that pooled in them the night she was flung into the ocean, the night he ran from the hut while Luke stood over him.
Moira had felt something shift within the force; she felt something on the brink and startled awake before going to check on Ben.
And his little sister - his light - his Moira - was caught in the crosshairs.
He remembers vividly and painfully, pushing her out into the sea; his head, along with Luke's, had flickered towards her before Ben ran off, while Luke went to save her.
Ben had convinced himself, along with the chancellor himself, that she was gone.
That the light he once craved, cherished, and adored -- was gone.
No longer the brightest light in the Force — the light he had clung to like a god, like faith itself — was gone.
──
Moira had taken refuge on a desolate planet, as far out in the galaxy as one could go.
Vharis was a world abandoned by time. Its sky stretched endlessly, a dull gray that swallowed suns and moons alike, leaving only a thin, pallid light to touch jagged rocks and frozen plains. Winds whispered over barren ridges, carrying no scent of life, no hint of growth — only the hushed echoes of a planet long forgotten. Even the Force seemed hesitant here, like water trickling through sand, its currents faint and almost imperceptible.
She had chosen it for that very reason: a world where she could exist without leaving ripples of herself for anyone else to find — a place where her presence would not spark hope, fear, or suspicion. She carved her life into the desolation: small huts built from the bones of wrecked ships, gardens coaxed to life with subtle Force guidance, and a hidden enclave for children abandoned by the wars that consumed the galaxy.
Here, on Vharis, she could touch the Force only in quiet, fleeting bursts — a glow to light a child’s evening, a whisper to keep the wind from collapsing her shelter. No one would call her a Jedi, or a hero, or even a survivor. She was simply Moira: caretaker, shadow, ghost. The planet had forgotten her, just as she had forgotten herself.
And yet… even here, the galaxy was not silent. Something stirred in the dark — a faint, familiar pull she dared not name.
Her heart had shattered. Not just from grief, but in consequence — the fracture spreading through her soul and dimming her presence in the Force. No one could find her, trace her, or feel the faint pulse of life lingering in her violet eyes. She had become a ghost, untouchable, unseen, even by the galaxy itself.
Moira had long promised herself she’d never seek anyone through the Force — nor would she ever dare expose herself to the First Order or her brother. Even though it killed her to never see her parents again, she knew that, to keep herself safe and, truly, the rest of the galaxy safe, she had to stay hidden.
Each day, she reminded herself to reclaim the good, the light, the right path. Her work with children demanded that choice — a daily act of holding back the dark.
Moira was the first choice. The first choice for the First Order. For the dark side.
They had believed the moment she was born that she would restore order, continue the legacy of her grandfather, Darth Vader. Leia and Luke had sensed it too, and by age five, they had torn her and Ben away to Ahch-To, to keep them safe and together.
Moira was meant to leave that planet under the stable, dark hands of the First Order, not long after arriving.
Yet she was good. She found the good. Even through moments of darkness, she clung to the light.
Then Ben turned. And didn’t look back.
Neither did she.
And so she left.
She wasn’t seen again — not until the jolt hit her system.
She fell to her knees in the nursery during nap time, feeling the heaviest weight she had felt in almost ten years.
She knew it without a doubt: her father had died.
And somewhere deep down, she knew who had done it.
Ben.
No matter the distance or the years that had passed, she felt the magnetic pulse flicker to life once more. As if it had never ceased.
──
Moira had shortly left the desolate planet aboard her Ghost-class light freighter when the Force hit her like a cosmic wave. She weaved in and out of star systems, almost a million miles across the Outer Rim, hopping to another, each jump as precise as it was instinctual.
For the first time in years, she allowed herself to touch the Force — light as a feather, almost imperceptible. Untraceable, yet present.
She searched for her mother, like a moth drawn to light. It did not take long to sense her: D’Qar.
After navigating meteor showers, drifting space debris, and First Order patrols, she touched down. Moira squinted as she scanned the war-torn star fleeters and makeshift repairs surrounding her.
The familiar symbol of the Resistance caught her eye, and she exhaled softly. Her mother had never abandoned ship — the thought both made her smile and tighten her chest.
Moira’s hand brushed her lightsaber before she threw back her silver cloak, embroidered with constellations that mirrored her violet eyes. She stepped from her ship, taking in the bustling scene — crews patching hulls, people moving with quiet determination.
Her ears pricked at a familiar growl, a voice belonging to her favorite uncle, if one could call him that — Chewbacca. She caught his low, frustrated tones as he barked at two others, and her gaze flicked briefly to a group of two men and a droid conversing. Their eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before she turned forward, continuing on, purpose in her stride.
Moira stepped into the base's main building, feeling her mother’s presence resonate in her blood. She didn’t need to hear her voice for confirmation — it was like a melody you cannot escape.
Poe watched as the silver figure slipped in and out of crowds, head down, moving as if she needed no directions. She was an outsider; she was not supposed to be here. Yet — as the Force would have it, he knew who she was.
Leia had never ceased to talk about her daughter, as if they were always present in each other’s lives. As if the past twelve years had never happened. Poe would recognize those eyes — bright, full of hope — anywhere, exactly as Leia had described them. A rare sight.
Moira stepped into a hallway where a few Resistance members walked back and forth. Her eyes shut briefly, anchoring herself toward her mother. She could sense her — not far now.
As she stepped up to the door frame, her name was called.
“Oh my! If it isn’t Princess Moira Elaine! I thought we’d never see you again,” C-3PO exclaimed. Moira’s blood ran cold. She turned slightly to the left and saw the familiar droid, the one who had never left her mother’s side, even as a child.
Leia stopped dead in her tracks. Her breath caught. It couldn’t be… could it?
Wexley froze next to the commander and looked behind him, eyes widening. The little princess he had once smuggled sugar cubes to now stood before them — all grown.
“Moira!” Wexley exclaimed, taking long strides before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. She stiffened for a moment, then giggled softly.
Leia finally turned at the sound, and could hardly believe her eyes. She saw her daughter, but could not feel her.
How was that possible?
Wexley let go of the girl before turning toward her mother with a smile, and Moira felt her breath catch as her and her mother's gazes connected.
“Mo—Moira?” Leia asked, disbelief lacing her voice, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
“Hi, Mom,” Moira said softly, stepping forward. One step, then another, until her arms wrapped around her mother.
Leia clung to her daughter as if she might disappear once more — and this time, forever.
“Oh, my sweet girl. We thought we lost you… we thought you were gone,” her mother whispered, as Wexley began ushering others out of the room.
Moira sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at her mother, shaking her head. “No… I left, went to the Outer Rim, and I’ve been there since—”
“But we couldn’t feel you,” Leia cut in, confusion clouding her features.
Moira’s eyebrows creased, then softened as understanding settled. She remembered her uncle’s words, clear as light, striking her:
“The dark side can mute their presence within the galaxy......" It allows them to exist without us knowing.”
Moira shook those thoughts.
She smiled softly at her mother, a slight shrug, tears pooling in her violet eyes. She knew exactly why and how it had happened.
Ben.
His turn to the dark side. The heartbreak and pain that had surged the moment he pushed her into the sea.
Moira sniffled again, shaking her head as a tear broke free.
Leia knew. She knew exactly how it had happened.
“But Dad—” Moira began, before a sob escaped. Leia pulled her close, cooing softly.
“I… I felt it. I felt Ben do it. I felt it in the Force, even after I… turned it off,” she whispered, sobbing, and Leia’s mind raced with questions.
“Kylo Ren,” her mother corrected gently.
Moira’s forehead creased as dread washed over her.
Kylo Ren.
A chill ran down her spine. She felt it flood her system, every crevice, and sensed the soft hum of magma that had once threatened to consume her as a child.
It was like a beacon of light reaching out to her, demanding to be chosen — to be clung to. And yet, beneath it all, the familiar hum of magma stirred in her veins, threading its dark warmth into every corner of her mind.
She swallowed harshly, pushing down that all-too-familiar feeling.
“Let’s get you fed and cleaned up. Come now,” her mother said, wrapping an arm around her daughter and ushering her toward the private quarters.
It didn’t take long for the base to buzz with news of the long-lost princess’s arrival. Soon enough, Chewbacca barged into Leia and Moira’s dinner, asserting his ‘uncle’ duties with the same growl and urgency he had shown all these years.
──
Moira woke the next morning, watching the sunrise over the planet she had visited many times as a child with Ben.
She remembered playing hide-and-seek with the baby Wookiees stationed at the base, taking turns with Ben. They were never truly hidden from one another — their senses and awareness were far too keen.
She smiled at the memory of returning from trips with their father, who always brought trinkets, jewels, and delicacies from far-off planets. Their sugar rushes and crashes were legendary, leaving echoes of laughter and chaos in the halls.
Her heart ached, recalling the last time they had visited — thirteen years ago. That flight had been a battlefield of bickering, fueled by puberty and heightened emotions. Luke had half-joked that little Moira was going to kill Ben.
Ben had tripped her for the fourth time in ten minutes. Luke barely engaged autopilot before Moira screamed, shoved Ben against the wall, and planted her hand on his chest. Terror widened his eyes.
Her own violet gaze darkened, the constellations of her eyes extinguished. Luke and Ben had felt her presence shift in the Force — darker, more sinister, terrifying.
“Moira!” Luke yelled, pulling her back with the Force as she struggled to push against him.
“You little brat!” she screamed at Ben, whose remorseful, disbelieving gaze only enraged her further.
Luke raised a hand, firm and final. “Stop, Moira. You’ve hurt him enough.”
She remembered stepping out behind Ben, feeling the weight of the pain she had caused. His quiet, unvoiced suffering haunted her.
It scared her.
What would have happened if Luke hadn’t intervened?
That memory returned in nightmares almost nightly, leaving her waking in panic and sweat, unable to fall back asleep.
Even after all these years.
She heard footsteps behind her and spun around instinctively, only to see a Resistance member, hands raised in innocence.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, and she sighed softly, turning back to watch the sunrise.
“You startled — not scared,” she hummed, and heard him chuckle.
He sat on the bench beside her. She shifted down a few inches, and he laughed again.
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, a spark passed between them.
“I’m Poe. Commander Dameron,” he said, extending his hand.
She nodded, taking it quickly.
“Moira,” she replied softly.
He smirked. “Like I wouldn’t know who you are, Princess.”
She cringed. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, genuinely curious. “That’s what your mother calls you when she talks about you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, violet meeting his ember gaze.
“She… talks about me?”
“I don’t think there’s a day that goes by where your mother doesn’t speak of you,” he said, gazing out at the sunrise. “Even when she was certain she had lost you, because she couldn’t feel you in the Force, she never went a day without saying your name, as if you were still here. And Wexley, too — he’s always said he looked to you as a niece when you were here.”
Moira blinked, taking it in, a small warmth settling in her chest.
"Well...that's nice. Endearing." She sarcastically hummed, looking away and back at the sky.
He smiled softly before looking back at the sky as well. A warm feeling, now warming his chest.
Moira left shortly after that, her feet carrying her toward the command center. Her eyes caught her mother hunched over the map with Wexley, plotting movements with meticulous focus.
Poe was not far behind her, and the group had begun outlining a plan.
“I’m not going,” Moira stated, her voice cutting through the room. The words made everyone freeze.
Poe looked up first, then Wexley, and finally her mother. Leia’s gaze lingered on her daughter, filled with a knowing sorrow.
Moira shook her head. “No. I’m not going. He thinks I’m dead, and I want to keep it that way — so I can go home.”
Poe let out a long sigh. Wexley’s frown deepened, and Leia’s expression softened with restrained worry.
“No, Moira — dear, you are the one who can bring him home—” Leia began gently.
Moira cut her off, voice sharp. “Bring him home? He killed my father! Do you think he wants to come home after that? He’s made his choice. He’s one of them, for good.”
Her voice softened, almost a whisper, “I can’t do it.”
All three felt the weight of her words. Wexley and Leia understood without needing to speak; Poe, from the stories he had heard, knew her capabilities — that she might be the one to confront the darkness and, somehow, bring Ben back.
Yet Leia’s worry ran deeper than any plan could see. From the moment her daughter was born, she had feared Moira’s potential for seduction by the dark side — and that fear never left her. No matter how far Moira ran, or how strongly she clung to the light, the shadow would always be there, and one day, it might reach her.
Moira’s violet eyes met her mother’s with a quiet defiance, then turned away, leaving the command center behind.
As she walked down the hallway toward the field of fleets, the sound of Chewie’s hurried roars reached her. He was running with someone — moving fast, urgency in every step.
Then the words hit, slicing through the tension like a blaster shot: “Rey’s been taken. She’s gone.”
Moira didn’t need anyone else to confirm it. She already knew. Her brother had taken her.
──
Kylo stared out at the galaxy that stretched endlessly before him. The stars seemed brighter tonight — sharper, almost alive — though he rarely cared to look at them. That had always been Moira’s thing, not his.
Still, something about the way they shimmered tonight made him pause. No… that couldn’t be.
From behind him, Hux observed quietly, curiosity flickering across his sharp features as Kylo leaned closer to the viewport. Out there, two shooting stars cut across the dark, side by side — gone as quickly as they appeared.
Then another pair.
A faint unease crawled beneath Kylo’s skin, the kind that didn’t come from logic but instinct — from memory. He felt something stir in the depths of himself, something he hadn’t felt in years.
It was faint… fractured… but familiar.
Her.
His breath caught, eyes narrowing at the infinite dark. He had felt that presence once before — just before he’d cast her into the ocean the night he left the island. The night he’d believed he’d killed her.
The air around him seemed to hum with that same strange electricity.
Hux cleared his throat behind him, the sound snapping Kylo back into the present. His hands clenched at his sides, the faintest tremor in his fingers betraying the storm rising within him.
Across the way, Moira sat beside Chewie in the Millennium Falcon, as if she had never left it. The hum of the ship wrapped around her like an old memory — long nights in the cockpit with Ben and their father, jumping through hyperspace to who-knows-where.
Her breath hitched when the Finalizer came into view. The massive Star Destroyer cut through the void like a blade, and unease coiled in her chest. She felt that old, molten pull claw up from the pit of her being — the dark magma she had buried years ago.
No. Not now. Not ever.
Right?
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the feeling down. But when she opened them again, time seemed to slow — the air thinning, the galaxy falling silent.
The Millennium Falcon drifted dead-center before the Finalizer.
Her violet eyes caught a flicker of movement through the viewport — him. The brother who had once called her his Moira, his light. The boy who used to laugh with her as if they shared one heartbeat, though two years apart.
Kylo Ren’s maskless face faltered, shock breaking through his control. He took one uncertain step forward, then another, as if his mind refused to trust what the Force whispered.
It couldn’t be. He had felt her die — felt the sea swallow her whole when he’d pushed her away. Snoke had confirmed it. He still couldn't feel her in the force.
And yet…
The shooting stars. The stars of the night sky. They had burned brighter tonight — the twin streaks across space, like a sign.
Hux hovered behind him, eyes darting between the two. Even he realized who she was.
Kylo’s hand lifted faintly, trembling. A single word escaped him, barely a breath.
"No..."
And in the next instant, the Millennium Falcon vanished into hyperspace — gone like a ghost.
Moira hadn’t even had a chance to process who she’d just seen when the Millennium Falcon was hit.
She lurched forward in her seat, catching herself on the console before standing with a frustrated growl to check the systems.
Her eyes darted across the controls — shields, thrusters, stabilizers. All still intact. Thank the Maker.
“Moira!” Chewie roared from the cockpit.
“Got it, Chewie,” she muttered, forcing herself upright. But her limbs suddenly felt heavy, her movements slow — like she was wading through sand.
A sharp pain split through her temple. She gripped her head, eyes squeezing shut—
—and the stars vanished.
She was seven again. Ben was nine. The night their uncle had sat by the fire, telling them about his childhood home on Tatooine. Through Luke’s memories, they had seen it — the pale suns, the empty desert, the small domed home where his story began.
Moira remembered smiling, curling up by the fire, the warmth of R2-D2 humming near her, her imagination painting the twin suns across her dreams.
When she woke, her skin was warm. Too warm.
She sat up. This wasn’t her cot. This wasn’t her hut.
Her small hands pressed into soft sand. The air was dry, the sky endless and blue. The quiet hit her all at once.
“Ben?” she called out. No answer.
Her voice cracked. “Uncle Luke?”
Nothing.
Her fear rose like a wave. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her own trembling still. The Force around her buzzed and shook with panic.
“Ben!” she screamed, her sobs breaking through the air.
Ben jolted awake, a hollow ache filling his chest. He could feel her — gone.
“Uncle! Moira’s gone!”
Luke was already rising from his seat, the panic in his nephew’s voice slicing through the quiet. They ran to her hut. Her cot was empty. Her lightsaber — still resting by her pillow.
Across the galaxy, Leia woke with a gasp, clutching Han’s arm.
“She’s gone,” she whispered, trembling. She reached for her daughter through the Force — and slammed into a wall of static. Nothing.
Back on the desert, Moira wiped her tears, blinking through the sunlight.
“I—I think I’m on Tatooine,” she whispered.
Luke’s heart softened as her voice finally came through the Force. “Stay where you are, Moira. We’re coming for you.”
Her eyes flew open. The pain was gone — but her heart thundered.
Cold durasteel beneath her palms. The low hum of engines.
She looked around, breath catching as she saw the gleam of black armor and white plastoid.
Stormtroopers turned the corner.
Moira’s blood ran cold.
She wasn’t on the Falcon anymore.
She was on his ship.
The Finalizer.
Once again, she had folded space -- through galaxy and time.
She folded like the dark Sith that simmered beneath her surface.
──
Moira slipped through the corridors like a shadow, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Every corner, every echo of boots, forced her to pause—hide—breathe—move again. She counted the turns until she found herself before an enormous, unguarded door.
A tremor rippled through her as she lifted her hand toward it. The Force pulsed—thick, magnetic, alive. Not one presence. Several.
Her fingers brushed the air, and she knew. Ben. Rey. And something else—ancient, festering, wrong.
Before she could take another breath, two crimson figures stepped into her path.
Red Guards. Of course.
Their armor gleamed like blood under the faint light. The hum of their weapons vibrated through the air, that sharp electric pitch that made her teeth ache.
Moira exhaled. Her eyes darkened.
Without hesitation, she reached through the Force and tore into their minds. It was a violent, instinctive thing—heat flaring beneath her ribs. The guards staggered, their bodies stiffening as she seized their thoughts and shoved. One of their electro-bisentos ripped free of his grip, flying into her hand.
She turned back to the door. Her palm lifted.
The Force—her Force—sang in her veins, wild and alive. The metal groaned, shuddered, and then snapped open with a thunderous hiss.
Her pulse hammered. She felt it again—that molten, volcanic energy stirring under her skin. She had to control it. She hadto.
And then she saw him.
Snoke. And Rey—kneeling before him.
Her stomach turned. Ew. Gross. The thought flickered before she could stop it.
Snoke’s head rose. His lips parted into that twisted grin. Kylo—Ben—turned sharply, the moment freezing between them. His mask was gone. His expression broke. Disbelief, wonder, horror—all at once.
Snoke’s voice slithered through the room, serpentine and gleeful. “Well, well. If it isn’t little Moira Solo—the lost princess at last returned home.”
His words wrapped around her name like poison.
Moira’s jaw clenched as she walked forward. Each step echoed against the marble floor. She stopped beside Rey, refusing to even look at her brother.
Snoke leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Has Princess Moira finally come to her senses? Ready to claim her birthright—to take her place at the throne of the Sith?”
The air grew heavy. Moira’s breath came sharp, steady. The magma within her roiled—but she pushed back, holding him out of her mind, locking every door he tried to pry open.
Kylo’s eyes widened. How was she here? Why couldn’t he feel her?
Snoke chuckled, answering the question as if he’d heard it. “Because she is not what you think, my apprentice. She is ours. She always has been. The blood of the Sith burns in her bones—just as it did in your grandfather.”
He turned his back to Kylo, approaching her with greedy reverence. “You were always the one we wanted first. The purest potential. The truest heir.”
Moira didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Inside, the storm built. But she refused to let it consume her.
She would not be what he said she was.
“Let her go,” Moira said, her voice steady — dangerous.
Rey shuddered at the power beneath Moira’s voice, swallowing hard before glancing up at Kylo — who could only stare at his little sister.
Snoke scoffed.
Moira stepped forward until she stood a foot in front of Rey.
“She’s not who you want,” Moira said evenly. “She has no part in this.”
Snoke laughed, low and dark.
“I’ll show you,” Moira said softly.
“NO! Don’t!” Kylo shouted, taking a step forward before Snoke’s invisible grip held him back.
Kylo knew the risk — if she opened her mind to Snoke, there would be no turning back.
But Kylo was naive.
Moira had learned, long ago and by accident, how to manipulate visions — how to bend dreams, how to deceive. She would make Snoke believe Rey had no connection to the dark side. That he had been wrong about her.
“My boy, stand down!” Snoke roared, forcing Kylo to his knees. He choked out a sound as Snoke turned his focus back on Moira.
Moira shut her eyes, allowing Snoke to claw into a sliver of her mind — showing him the vision she wanted him to see.
He hummed, satisfied, and withdrew just as she slammed the mental door shut.
“Well,” Snoke purred, “she’s no use to me anymore. Kill her! Claim your rightful place on the throne and rule the galaxy for eternity!” His voice cracked through the chamber, echoing off steel and stone.
Moira stepped back, her breath unsteady.
She didn’t want this. She only wanted to save Rey.
But she knew.
She knew she might not make it out alive. A life for a life, she thought.
“NO!” Kylo shouted, his gaze darting between Snoke and Moira. “I’ll do it!”
Finally, Moira looked at him.
Their eyes met — regret against regret — and for the first time in years, he felt her in the Force. The ache was immediate.
He would do it again — sacrifice himself for his sister. The reason he’d joined Snoke in the first place was to protect her. If she had survived the ocean, he’d taken her place to keep her safe.
Despite her darkness, she was too full of love — too much light — for the First Order.
Emotion rippled through her like a storm. The Force trembled.
On Ahch-To, Luke felt it. Leia felt it on the base. Rey felt it too. But Ben — Ben felt it most of all.
“Let me do it, Supreme Leader—” Kylo began, but Snoke cut him off with a sharp motion. Kylo gasped as the invisible hold released.
And Moira felt it — the slow, familiar burn of magma rising in her veins.
An old friend, come home.
Kylo felt the air shift. The room darkened. Moira was awakening.
Maybe — just maybe — she could deceive Snoke. Save Rey. End this.
But she knew the cost.
She would have to stay. She would have to become what she swore she never would.
Maybe, though, she could bring light into the darkness.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
Moira exhaled and wrapped her hand around her lightsaber.
The purple saber roared to life — a perfect blend of blue and red, light and shadow intertwined. A tale of two paths: one that had always threatened to consume her, and one she chose, again and again — the path of good. Of light. Of love.
Kylo took in the familiar color — the brilliant violet that mirrored her eyes perfectly.
As a child, he used to tease her for it. He’d always called her “extra.”
But now? He saw the truth of it — the constant war that lived inside her, the one he had sensed for years. That internal storm that threatened to consume her whole.
His heart ached as she stepped forward, placing herself between Rey and Snoke’s wrath. Rey’s voice cracked as she pleaded, “Don’t do this.”
Kylo’s chest tightened as he heard his sister’s voice echo within the Force.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for who I am to become.
On Ahch-To, Luke fell back against the bench in his hut, feeling her presence ripple through the Force — a shift, sharp and final.
Across the galaxy, Leia stumbled, Wexley barely catching her as she gasped, her heart sinking. She felt the balance of the Force tilt — just enough to know there would be no undoing this.
A tear slipped down Kylo’s face, burning as it fell. The melancholy ache flooded him, hollowing him out.
His light — the very thing he had clung to like a religion, worshiped like a god — was slipping away. He had failed her. Failed his duty as her brother, her protector.
And that failure threatened to split him in two.
Moira raised her saber, its amethyst glow trembling in her grip. Rey sobbed, begging her to stop.
Gods be damned, she looked at her brother one last time. His expression said everything — don’t do this. please.
A single tear traced her cheek.
Gone were the early days of the First Order — the thing her grandfather helped begin. Gone were the days of servitude to Supreme Leader Snoke.
A new era was dawning in the galaxy — one that would reign for millennia.
Moira prayed silently to the gods for mercy, her voice breaking as she whispered to herself:
A Jedi must be a light in the darkness — a beacon of hope, no matter how hopeless things seem. Master Windu.
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