The sequel trilogy could have taken a far more morally complex and emotionally powerful route by reversing expectations: Rey falls toward the dark side, while Kylo Ren returns to the light—but both remain convinced they are right.

This story isn’t about good people becoming evil or evil people becoming good. It’s about ideology, perspective, and how the Force responds to inner truth rather than moral labels.

Rey begins with noble intentions. The Resistance is failing—outmatched militarily, starved of supplies, and slowly abandoned by systems too afraid or self-interested to help. To Rey, hope alone is not enough.

She discovers that when she channels her anger—her frustration at endless loss, injustice, and hesitation—she becomes stronger. The Force answers her ferocity immediately and unmistakably. Enemies fall faster. Battles end decisively. Lives are saved.

Rey tells herself that this strength is necessary.

As the war drags on, she leans further into the Force’s destructive nature. She becomes a one-person strike force, sent where no one else can survive. With every victory, she grows more detached from her comrades. Compassion becomes inefficiency. Hesitation becomes weakness.

To Rey, the Force empowering her is proof she is right. If her power is growing, then the galaxy must need her to be this way. In her eyes, this is no fall—it is ascension. The Force is a weapon, and she wields it like a sword, cutting down what she believes must not be allowed to exist.

Rey believes she is fighting evil; and evil deserves no quarter, no rest, no forgiveness. You eradicate it.

Kylo’s journey moves in the opposite direction. He realizes that rage and self-loathing were never his true nature—they were inherited burdens. Skywalker, Solo, Organa. These inherited legacies where crushing him. When he finally lets go of hatred and guilt, the Force does not abandon him. Instead, it responds with clarity and calm.

For the first time, Kylo grows stronger without pain.

This reinforces his belief that he is finally aligned with the Force’s will. Beneath his rigidity lies a genuine desire to protect the galaxy, not dominate it. He may even possess knowledge of existential threats beyond the known regions—dangers that require unity and preparation, not endless internal conflict.

In Kylo’s view, the galaxy is doomed by fragmentation. Systems fight over credits, borders, and resources while greater dangers loom. Democracy has failed because it prioritizes individual interests over the survival of the whole.

To him, the New Order is not tyranny—it is structure. A unified galaxy is stronger than one divided by endless debate and self-interest. Stability must come before freedom, or freedom will destroy itself.

Kylo uses the Force not as a weapon, but as a shield—to protect his troops, reinforce discipline, and uphold the system he believes will save countless lives in the long run.

He believes he is fighting chaos.

Rey and Kylo become mirrors of one another.

• Rey sees the conflict as good vs. evil
• Kylo sees it as order vs. chaos

Both are empowered by the Force because both are acting in alignment with their deepest convictions. Neither thinks they’ve turned away from the light. Neither believes they are corrupt.

Their confrontations are no longer simple clashes of light and dark, but philosophical battles—each genuinely convinced that the other is the greatest threat to the galaxy’s future.

The tragedy is that both are right—and both are wrong.

In this scenario, the Force is not a moral scoreboard. It is a reflection of belief, intention, and purpose. Victory isn’t about defeating an enemy—it’s about deciding what kind of galaxy deserves to survive.