Older now and not at breakfast, but rather at something of a counsel session in the presence of her Master and her Master’s fathers, Rey stood straight as a ramrod in her best combat garb. The ghost of an old menace had reared its head - a menace that had tortured a family and now had its hands around the throat of that self-same family’s scion. The depth of her Master’s connection to that family was beyond Rey’s ken. Indeed it was something that, when she had brought tales of a lost looking young man to her Master - a lost looking young man who she’d been sure was a Sith but that Melakeni had told her was nothing but what he looked like; lost, alone now through his faults and those of others - she’d sought to probe but had been near-literally slapped back from.

That knowledge was not for her to know. But this...This rising...

For hours she listened attentively to points and counterpoints being argued. For hours there was talk of casualties, losses, armies, something called a Resistance led by someone whose name she did not recognise but that she felt she somehow should. There was mention of Master Skywalker - the one she was taken from, not he who she now and then glimpsed during her meditations and who felt, for all his unease and the wrong shape life had forged him into, like his right shape was that of love - and the concern that was universally felt within the room for the man’s remaining students. For what those students might end up being set to, or tempted to, should this terror not be quelled before it was too late. 

Rey heard it all and then, when a moment’s silence came, she spoke. ‘This threat, whatever name it goes by, holds a blade to the neck of the galaxy. Beyond that -- there is a force of evil behind it. We both sense it, Master.’ The young woman squared her shoulders; set her jaw. ‘It is my place in the galaxy to maintain the balance. You taught me that, and I know it in my heart, in my bones to be true.’ A request then; firmly intoned but more plea than anything of a demand.