Ben Solo tossed his head back as his hover chair spurted into high gear. His umber mane drifted behind him as he maneuvered the seat around the Jedi Academy's long corridors. His fingers flicked across the control pad on the armrest, jerking the chair around corners and Jedi Padawan alike. He ignored the shouts and warnings behind him as he rushed to the saber training arena at the other end of the hexagonal building.

Pale winter sunlight streamed through the courtyard windows that lined one side of the passageway. The reflection from the snow drifts warmed the passage so much that the fifteen-year-old sweated like he was in the swamps of Dagobah. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his gray Padawan tunic.

After rounding another corner, he used the Force to activate the training arena's sliding door. Darkness greeted him—blessed darkness pierced with streaks of colored lights. He welcomed the blackness that matched his dark mood.

Stale sweat assaulted his nose. The rubber mats and walls retained the stench, and no amount of sanitizer could neutralize it. Not even the air conditioning units could filter it out.

"You're late, Solo." Master Naluma Fau leaned against the safety rail, her Jedi robes wafting around her legs.

Ben sighed. Master Fau. Great. So you're feeling well enough to teach again? As if it wasn't enough that Jedi Ahhzteen nearly killed me in the weight room today in physical therapy.

"What are you waiting for?"

What does Uncle Luke even see in her? Ben rolled his eyes at the Jedi Master.

The dozen humming lightsabers around the room illuminated her tense form. She looks ready to pop right now. When is she going to spawn?

"Engage." Master Fau's terse tone shook him out of his reverie.

The enemy, right. He huffed while he maneuvered the chair into the arena. Like I'm ever going to leave this planet while I'm still injured. And only ones who know where I am are my dad and Uncle Chewie.

He stared at the Padawan in the area. You've got to be kidding me. He scowled at his classmates. Humiliate myself for a defensive drill? No, thank you.

While he backed his chair toward the exit, Master Fau's voice echoed around the chamber. "Padawan, I'm not going to ask you again. Engage your enemy. Soresu."

She must have twisted her hair so many times that her brain cells are oozing out. He crossed his arms and glared at the Jedi in the dim light. "I can't. I'm in a hover chair."

"You think the enemy won't attack you because you're an invalid?" She advanced one step and jabbed her finger at him. "Have you forgotten who you are? Skywalker's scion? You're a target. Now, engage." The pregnant Jedi Master pointed toward the arena. "Or do you want to be the first casualty?" 

Fau's eyes narrowed and her spine stiffened. The two glared at each other for a long minute before Ben relented.

The boy grunted before steering his scooter into the melee and hoisting his weapon. His blue lightsaber snapped to life, adding another hum to the cacophony. The sapphire light cast his glowering features into an eerie hue, accentuating his long nose and large ears.

"Groups of three now," she yelled. "Soresu drill five, two-on-one."

The lightsabers halted as the Padawan adjusted positions.

"Count off." The Jedi Master shuffled along the metal railing that separated the arena from the observation deck while the Padawan stepped into position.

The group sounded off the drill count. "One, two, three, four, five six, seven, eight." With each count the blades locked together, the angry buzz of the blades overwhelming all other senses for a brief moment. The formation continued for two more passes before the trios rotated their stations.

A stocky young man with dark curly hair named Canoord paired up with Ben and a lithe girl, Kayenta.

Well, at least this ought to be easy. Ben laughed inside. No, this will be fitting. I still owe you two for ratting me out. 

When they attacked Ben together, the malcontent boy pulled his saber up just in time to block the girl's down swing. As they pushed against his single blade, Ben's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He huffed as he pulled his saber against the dual blades.

Canoord laughed at him. "What's wrong, Ben? Forgot how to use a saber?"

"Canoord!" Master Fau's voice rang from the sidelines. "Silence."

Ben growled and charged at his partners. The compact girl pranced out of the way of his counter swing just as Canoord sideswiped the chair. Sparks lit up the darkness as the laser made contact with the metal.

Solo swiveled in time to beat the boy back. His second sally sliced through the other boy's forearm.

The other boy shook his arm, his emerald saber flickering in the darkness.

Too bad we can't practice with live weapons any more, but that tingling ought to slow you down a bit. You aren't the swordsman you think you are, Canoord, and I'm about to prove it. 

The smaller boy retreated two steps and pulled his blade back. With a groan, Canoord windmilled his saber, pushing Solo back five meters.

Anger flushed Ben's face. A stream of cold passed through him as the darkness in his soul surged. He risked a glance at his reflection in the training mirror across the room. In the dimmed lighting, only his glowing yellow eyes appeared. As the hatred swelled, his irises burned brighter.

With a growl, the teen clenched his teeth and swung his blue blade against Canoord's green blade with such force that the stocky Padawan's saber flew across the room.

His other attacker pounded toward Ben. He rocketed out of his hover chair and stumbled toward her. As he advanced, her blue eyes widened.

Kayenta wailed and beat a retreat, backing into a platform support. Trapped, she smashed her eyes shut and scrunched her face. He held his hand out, manipulating the Force. Her body stiffened as her scream trailed off.

Heaving his saber high above his head, Ben staggered a few more steps. As he swung down, his blade halted in mid-air.

"Padawan, stand down!" Master Fau's voice reverberated not only throughout the arena but right into his brain. The room fell silent as lightsabers extinguished and all eyes turned to Solo.

The hilt tumbled from his grasp as the saber died. Ben clutched his head and collapsed to the rubber mats. Curled up in a ball, he writhed like a Dianoga slithering in a garbage compactor. The lights blinded him as they popped on over his head.

"Get up." Master Fau's boot rested mere centimeters from his nose. Her protruding belly hovered over his face until he rolled over on the floor like a corpulent Hutt.

"I said, 'Get up.'"

Level and steady. Typical Master Fau. That's all anyone sees. Ben smiled as he felt the darkness rising within her. A chill settled on his shoulders. Hypocrite. You're afraid of the enemy, but you're too stupid to see that the worst enemy is within. Too bad you haven't learned how to use it, Aunt Naluma.

Ben pulled the hatred and agony from within himself, reveling in it.

A gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts. Good. Let the hatred flow. Use it. Strike her down.

No. That's wrong. I won't kill again. Solo clenched his teeth.

Say it. You won't kill whom again? The relentless voice always knew just where to push.

I won't. He doesn't deserve it.

But she humiliated you. She deserves it. The voice drew out each word.

Finding it impossible to resist, Ben fingered the chrome hilt of his saber.

Don't wait.

I won't kill again. Ben lowered his hand and sat up. I won't.

"Apologize." Master Naluma's black eyes pierced into his soul.

He shook his head while gasping for air. "Self-defense."

"You violated the sanctity of the drill by attacking her. You used the Force to paralyze your opponent. That is not the Jedi way."

The rest of the Padawan had formed up around the Jedi Master and Ben's sparring partners. All looked down upon the teen.

Hypocrites. All of you. He covered his laugh with a false cough. I feel the rage in you. You think you're so high-and-mighty. So pure. Yet it takes so little to get you to fear and to rage ... and how long until you suffer with the guilt? How long until it will tear you to pieces from within? Ben could not help smiling, but he squelched the chuckle forming in his chest.

He jutted his chin upward and sneered. "Master Fau, I was merely adapting to my disability." He gestured to his heart and leaned toward the Jedi Master. "You cannot expect an invalid to fight without accommodations."

Naluma snorted. "Yeah, right. You're as much an invalid as I am a protocol droid."

He shook his head. "I couldn't even take two steps before I fell."

"If that's what you want to believe." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. For a brief second the impassive mask she wore fell to reveal her fear.

I knew it. Let the fear consume you, Master Fau. You're no better than any of us.

She looked around at the pairs of eyes watching this altercation. "You're dismissed." She pointed to the door.

"But—"

"Out." 

Ben crawled to his hover chair and climbed back in it. All eyes watched as the teen propelled himself out of the arena.

"Very well, back to where we were. Soresu five. Switch up on my command. Ready. Begin."

The lightsabers hummed to life as Master Fau turned off the lights.

Ben peered through the doors as they slid together.

Just you wait. You're all going down. Every. Single. One. Especially you, Master Fau.

The blastdoors clanged shut behind him.