Millennium Falcon

Rey awoke in the pilot seat of the Millennium Falcon. Or, rather, came back to herself. She was orbiting a planet the ship's database had no name for.

What happened? she wondered. She tries to recall the last moments before she lost consciousness. The creature had given back her mind. She recalled the humiliation of a hundred eyes crawling along her skin like a thousand arachnids. Moments later, she had railed and resisted the creature's dominion.

She waged an internal battle, even as she outwardly encouraged a Resistance soldier to grab hold of her breast. He squeezed too tight and pinched too hard, but she pushed the degradation out of her mind. She fought.

Blood dripped from her nose and ears. Pain pierced through her mind like a blaster bolt. Finally, triumphantly, her right hand moved by her own command. A flash of white. Screams like a Jakku whirlwind. And then, darkness.

Rey shuddered, and shrugged off the memories for now. It would do her no good to remember what happened next, she decided.

Okay, she thought. I have to get back.

According to the Falcon's maps, she was deep inside an uncharted part of the galaxy. The navigation system failed time and again to chart a return course. Rey tried every work-a-round she could think of. Even a manually targeted jump. She figured the chance of landing in the middle of a star or planet was statistically insignificant, but still, the Falcon wouldn't allow it.

"How did I even get here!" she screamed. Frustrated, she threw Han's gold dice across the cockpit. Then, the Jakku scavenger collapsed to the floor in tears.

Hush, little one.

Rey's head popped up, the whites of her eyes showing as they darted to every dark corner of the cockpit. She nearly had her lightsaber burning when she realized what was happening. "Get out of my head!"

Mmm, why? Your mind is so... delicious.

It wasn't actually speaking. Rey knew that. Still, it had an odd rhythm and cadence. As though a constant search for the right words impaired its delivery.

Searching your mind, yes. Your language is small. Primitive. It is difficult, even painful, to limit my mind to its barbaric form.

"Who are you?"

Stop speaking out loud. You look like a fool.

Rey took a slow and steady breath. Turned inward. "Who are you?"

The shape of my name is beyond your comprehension. But if the weaknesses of your species requires you to call me something, then call me what the small minded Zakuul once called me. Call me Zildrog.

Zildrog, she thought. It sounded familiar, but she wasn't sure why.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Because your mind is ripe for the harvest. Because you are the most powerful **** Sensitive the galaxy has ever seen, and the foolish Jedi have left you untrained.

"I don't--"

No more, Zildrog said. And Rey's world went dark.