His lightsaber was lit before he hit the deck, ready to deflect the shots fired his way by the contingent of troopers sent to investigate their landing. The Force guided his arm-no, the Force was his arm. That was how it felt to him. During moments such as these, he was purely a vessel for the dark side. It rushed through him like wine down the neck of a bottle, joyous with release and the promise of more to come. His blade drew glowing lines through the air, casting energy bolts back at the troopers who'd fired them, sending them sprawling in a shower of sparks.

Chapter 3