Rey

Rey moves slowly through the forgotten structure, boots quiet against the stone, her eyes scanning every crevice. This place isn't marked on any chart, but whispers in Resistance reports and buried sensor data pointed her here. Some claimed the First Order died with Exegol. Rey isn’t convinced.

She crouches near a collapsed column, brushing her fingers across a burn mark—fresh, sharp-edged, not dulled by time. A weapon discharge. Recent.

"This wasn't nature," she murmurs, rising to her feet. Her yellow lightsaber hums to life with a twist of her wrist, casting a pale glow across the cracked wall.