The throne room was vast—oppressively so. Black glass stretched endlessly beneath your feet, polished to a mirror sheen that reflected crimson light from towering walls. The chamber felt less like a room and more like a void shaped into architecture—cold, deliberate, absolute.

At its center, on an elevated platform, sat Supreme Leader Snoke. He did not rise. He did not need to. The air itself seemed to bend around him. You were forced forward.

Kylo walked beside you, not touching—but close enough that you could feel him. Not physically. Something deeper. A tension that had followed you since your connection began, now sharpened into something dangerous. Two guards flanked you both, their crimson armor gleaming like fresh blood.

Snoke’s voice came before you could fully steady yourself. "Ah… the scavenger.” It echoed—not loudly, but completely. As if the room existed only to carry his words. You lifted your chin, refusing to bow. “I warned my young apprentice,” Snoke continued, almost amused, “that as he grew stronger in the dark side… his equal would rise in the light.” His gaze settled fully on you now. It felt invasive, like something peeling you apart layer by layer. “And here you are.”

You tried to center yourself—but it was too late. He was already inside your mind. Your breath caught sharply as invisible pressure gripped you. Memories flickered—Jakku, loneliness, the endless waiting—dragged to the surface without your consent.

“Such… raw power,” Snoke murmured. “And yet—so much fear.” You clenched your jaw, fighting back, but the effort barely registered. “Let me see…” he pressed further. “Ah… yes.” Pain lanced through your head as he probed deeper. “You thought Luke Skyw@lker would return,” he said, almost mockingly. “That he would bring balance. That he would save you.”

Your hands curled into fists. “But he failed you,” Snoke continued. “As he failed Kylo.” At that, you turned just slightly, toward Kylo. He stood still. Masked. Silent. Unmoving. “Skyw@lker is no more,” Snoke declared. “The Rebellion is dead. The Jedi… finished.” You shook your head, forcing the words out despite the pressure. “No. The Resistance is not dead.”

Snoke smiled faintly—thin, cruel. “The spark… yes. I see it.” A pause. “And I will extinguish it.” He gestured lazily. You were yanked forward violently by the Force, dragged to your knees. “Bring me Skyw@lker,” Kylo slowly stepped forward making you look up. There was something different. Not hesitation. Conflict, coiled tight beneath stillness. Snoke leaned back, satisfied. “I told you,” he said softly, “that you would turn her.” Kylo said nothing. Your lightsaber laid at Snoke’s side, resting on the arm of his throne. Unnoticed. Or so it seemed. “Strike her down,” Snoke commanded. The words hung in the air. Kylo’s gloved hand slowly tightened.

You felt it then—the shift. Not in Snoke. In Kylo. Something gathering. Snoke continued, unaware—or perhaps too certain of his control. “I see his mind,” Snoke said, voice lowering with satisfaction. “I see his every intent. Yes… he is turning the lightsaber… to strike down his true enemy.” Kylo’s head tilted ever so slightly. Your breath hitched.

You could feel it now too—the connection between you, the strange bond that had grown between enemy and… something else. Not trust. But understanding. Snoke’s smile widened. “And now… foolish child… he ignites it…” A sudden, violent motion—The lightsaber beside Snoke’s throne snapped to life—Not toward you. Through him. The blade tore cleanly through Snoke’s body split it perfectly in two halfs. For a split second, silence. Then Snoke’s form split and collapsed, lifeless, his expression frozen in shock.

You barely had time to react before Kylo turned and caught the falling lightsaber mid-air. The Praetorian Guards moved instantly. Weapons ignited with sharp, lethal energy. They descended from the platform with precise, terrifying coordination. Kylo tossed the blue saber to you. You caught it instinctively. No words were exchanged. None were needed.