There are still Jedi Temples within the Empire. Places the Inquisitors had been too young to know, save one. Places Jocasta Nu had deleted from the Archieve in her fight to save it from him, Palpatine, the Grand Inquisitor. Places Palpatine didn't know of. The old woman probably would have survived, had she abandoned it.

But now...

Now they may serve a purpose. A place to hide Luke away. From the Rebellion, Palpatine, Yoda. To reflect and realize the tone of the Jedi was over.

Darth Vader had seen to it.

But for now, he directs them out, over the vast oceans, a mountain range, over fields the size of entire cities, such vivid greens and blues from rivers and lakes.

The lakes growing more numerous, larger, Vader transfixed on something.

Come away with me! I love you!

A stick vibrates, as if the ball is held by a shaky hand. The paint cracks into spiderwebs. The orb explodes, covering Vader in the debris.

The dragon roars, lunges, opens is jaws and burns him, flames fresh. Raw.

Stop! Stop now... come back!

Abruptly Vader slams his fists down into the armrests of the chair, leaving them cracked. The pain radiates into what's left of his bones, screaming, wailing, sending wave after wave of pain into arms he no longer has, the pain ripping him down into the Dark, as if he is dropped into a gravity well.


It's Dark. Cold. And quiets the phantoms. His fists relax, fingers extending.