A few things I felt compelled to share from the original text as I go:
A young woman about Rey’s age was riding toward them, atop a creature that looked like a fathier with tusks except large-boned and with a more generous coat of fur.
So… nothing like a fathier, then.
The woman had dark skin like Finn’s,
That feels… weirdly mildly racist? Like, why does her skin specifically need to be arbitrarily compared to Finn’s, just because they’re the only two black characters (other than Lando)? The text would never say “Beaumont had caucasian skin like Rey’s” or something, it just feels weird.
Anyway, here’s an insert scene I added on Kef Bir:
“The Wayfinder’s in the Imperial Vaults,” Finn said, as if saying the words would help him believe it. “In the Death Star.”
“I hate to be practical,” Poe said, “but it’s gonna take us years to find it.”
They stared at the horizon for a moment. Poe was right. How do you search something the size of a moon? Where do you even start?
Rey was willing to bet that the whispers would lead her straight to the room the Wayfinder was in, but the thought of letting them in again frightened her. She didn’t like the part of herself that they made her see – a part she wanted to stave off for as long as possible. She looked down at the blade, glinting in the light. The Dagger was ancient, but the inscription was Ochi’s, and he wasn’t a Sith himself. He’d made changes to the Dagger to reflect his knowledge. There must be a way of using it without the Force.
She blinked, remembering. From the southern shore, C-3PO had said.
“Only this blade tells,” she muttered aloud.
She squinted against the sea spray, looking along the treacherous shoreline extending in either direction. Nothing but rocks and tufts of coarse grass –
And then the whispers rose like the wind in her ears as she spotted it. A small dais, nestled among some rocks.
The group made their way down towards it. Concentric circles of orange and white rock, dulled by decades of wind and spray, had been set into a natural platform of black obsidian, its sheared surface smooth and glistening where moss and sea grass hadn’t grown across it. A piece of grey metal rose to head height from the centre, oddly shaped and jagged, and looking bizarrely out of place. As they approached, Rey felt the whispers grow excited.
Poe kicked the bottom of the giant metal shard appraisingly.
“It’s a chunk of Death Star debris,” he said. “It must’ve got stuck in this rock.”
BB-8 beeped curiously.
Rey furrowed her brow, staring at the piece of metal. The top of the piece of metal. Its shape was oddly familiar, but not from a vision.
Then understanding flashed across her face. Hardly daring to hope, she ripped the Sith Dagger from her satchel and lined it up with the top of the piece of wreckage. The underside of the irregularly shaped blade matched up perfectly. She slotted it into place, and it held fast with friction, fitting together like two halves of a whole.
She angled her head slightly, staring past the Sith Dagger at the horizon, as Finn and Poe watched. She let out a sharp intake of breath.
The jagged shape of the top of the blade now lined up exactly with the outline of the Death Star.
Poe leaned forward.
Rey peered closer. The Dagger’s crossguard was hinged. She gently swung the crossguard down until it clicked into place –
– And pointed out a very specific section of ruin, southwest of the superlaser lens: a star-shaped structure, nestled in a crook of the jutting wreckage.
“The Wayfinder’s there,” Rey declared.
The whispers hissed in anger and disappointment.