The wind tore across the ice like a blade.
Luke stumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the cold gnawed at him, deeper than skin—into the bone, into the soul. The wampa's lair was behind him, but safety was nowhere in sight. The endless white stretched in every direction, blurring the line between land and sky, life and death.
His legs faltered.
He dropped to one knee.
The cold whispered to him now—not with menace, but with finality.
Luke blinked slowly, vision dimming. His hands were numb. His saber was still with him, but even that felt distant, irrelevant in the face of this creeping stillness.
Then—
A shimmer in the snow.
A flicker of blue light and form.
Luke's eyes widened as a figure emerged through the storm, robes flowing not with the wind, but through it. Familiar. Comforting.
"Ben..." he breathed.
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood before him, not as he once had—flesh and voice—but as a specter of light, cast by the Force itself. His gaze was steady. Calm.
"Luke," the voice echoed, impossibly near, impossibly far. "You must go to the Dagobah system. There, you will find Yoda... the Jedi Master who instructed me."
Luke tried to respond, but his lips refused to form words.
Obi-Wan stepped closer, his presence wrapping around Luke like a memory of warmth. "You are not alone, Luke. The path is not yours to walk in solitude."
He paused. Then, with meaning:
"Kai knows the way."
Luke's brows knit, his thoughts sluggish from the cold—but the name stirred something within him. A tether to the past. A presence he'd once flown beside, fought beside.
And then—
Gone.
The vision faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by snow and silence.
Luke collapsed into the snow, his strength spent.
But the Force was not done with him yet.
Moments—or eternities—later, heavy footsteps crunched toward him. A voice, hoarse and urgent, called out.
"Luke! Luke!"
Han Solo dropped beside him, his expression tight with fear and frost. Without hesitation, Han slashed open his tauntaun's belly with Luke's lightsaber, dragging the boy close to the steaming viscera.
"I thought they smelled bad... on the outside," Han muttered bitterly, fighting to keep Luke from slipping away.
The storm screamed above them, merciless.
But Luke Skywalker lived.
And in the Force, a new convergence stirred—one that would bring paths together once more.
The horizon of Hoth was awash in pale sunlight, filtered dimly through sheets of high-altitude ice crystals. The blizzard had finally died, leaving the snowy plains hauntingly quiet in the early light.
Through the cold stillness, two shapes trudged across the ice—barely upright, bundled in cloaks of frost and exhaustion.
A sharp whistle broke the silence.
Three snowspeeders swooped in low, kicking up plumes of powder as they banked around and hovered overhead. The lead pilot—Rogue Two—called in over comms, voice sharp with disbelief.
"I've found them! I've found them!"
The speeders circled once before setting down. Within minutes, medics were hauling Luke onto a stretcher, strapping oxygen over his nose. His skin was ashen, rimmed with frostbite, but he was breathing. Barely.
Han refused assistance, waving off offers with a grumble as he limped alongside the stretcher toward the waiting ship.
Back at Echo Base, the corridors were chaos—medics moving in coordinated urgency, boots crunching over frost still melting from the transport bays. Luke was rushed to the medcenter and submerged in a bacta tank, his battered form suspended in the glowing blue liquid.
Han stood outside the medbay, arms folded, grumbling to himself, when a voice called from behind.
"Took your time getting back."
Han turned to see Kai leaning against a wall, bundled in his own cold-weather gear. His arms were crossed, but a wry grin tugged at his mouth.
"I wasn't on a pleasure cruise," Han shot back. "Froze my butt off finding that kid."
Kai snorted. "Still managed to beat your record for near-death experiences."
Han gave a faint, crooked smile—one of those rare moments when he didn't have to say he was glad to see someone.
Then, his gaze shifted. He pushed off the wall. "Well, it's been fun, but I've got places to be."
Kai frowned. "You're leaving?"
Before Han could answer, Leia arrived, breath visible in the cold air as she crossed toward them. Her voice was sharp, but the concern underneath was unmistakable.
"You're really going through with it?"
Han raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn away. "Yeah. I've got a price on my head. I'm not going to be any good to anyone frozen in carbonite because I stuck around too long."
Leia took a step closer. "We need you."
"Oh, you need me?" Han asked, smirking. "Or is it because you have feelings for me?"
Leia's eyes flared. "I'd rather kiss a Wookiee!"
Han opened his mouth, only to be cut off.
"You're a stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder!"
Kai, still leaning against the wall, barked out a laugh. "She's not wrong," he said, shaking his head.
Han pointed at Kai. "Stay out of this."
Leia turned on her heel and stormed off, her breath fogging behind her as she disappeared down the corridor.
Han sighed, running a hand over his face. "This place is getting too warm for me."
Kai's grin faded slightly, replaced with something quieter. "Just don't take too long, Solo."
Han gave a short nod and walked off into the hangar, leaving Kai to watch the snowscape glow with the first honest light of morning.
From deep within the base, the gentle bubbling of the bacta tank echoed in rhythm with the next chapter of the Rebellion beginning to stir.