He knew the power it had taken to do that--the power Skywalker had called so easily and so naturally to him.
Slowly, in the reverberating silence, he began to laugh.
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Luke slumped to his knees in the still hush of the empty room, that dark instant of flawless clarity gone. A shiver wracked his frame at the cold realization of a brief affinity. In the shadowed hush of the huge, soulless chamber, he looked to the freedom beyond the thick panes of the tall windows, terrified in that moment that it was lost to him.
Perhaps it could never have been otherwise.
Perhaps it was all he deserved.
Was this destiny?
Staring in mute silence at the moon beyond the Palace towers, feeling the howling call of the Darkness as never before, he remembered again his childhood dream: the wolf that clung to the shadows, at one with the night, slipping past any defense, always hunting, breath misting a snarl in the cold twilight.
Hunting him, he had thought.
But now...now, when he slept, there was only himself in those raven shadows, and the Darkness clung to him like a cloak, dragging him down.
Leaving him to prowl the barren night alone.
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To be continued...
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Chapter 14
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Twelve weeks--twelve weeks of incarceration in the same few rooms. Twelve weeks of grinding pressure. Twelve weeks of uncertainty and doubt and incessant provocation.
And it wouldn't end here, not really. Not for him.
But it sure as hell was about to change. For better or worse.
Luke had spent much of the afternoon in the empty bedroom, knelt in meditation--or as near as he could come to it in this dark, desolate place. Putting up shields, raising imperceptible barriers to hide his intent.
He'd realized he could do this days after arriving here, sensing the impression of it in Mara's mind when she spoke to him and using it as a template to guide his own attempts, consistently investing time and effort in improving the same skill week on week, so that he was pretty confident now that he could not only shield thoughts from Palpatine, but hide the shields also, in such a way that the Sith wasn't aware that something was being hidden.
The trick, Luke had found, was to always leave a few perceptible barriers in place--something to focus attention on--so that although he now hid far more than he allowed to be seen, he was confident that although Palpatine knew he was hiding things beyond the obvious, the Sith had no idea what or how much.
He was staking a great deal on that theory tonight.
Luke opened his eyes to gaze out into the darkening night, studying the heavy, monofilament-reinforced clear plasteel plate of the windows.
Could he break them?
Yes--he knew he could. He knew.
The window was nothing--he had broken down the doors five days ago, which were far heavier...and therein lie the dilemma.
He had destroyed the doors because he had touched Darkness. Allowed it sway in his frustration and his anger. But he was aware of his abilities expanding even without that spur, as if it had somehow opened a portal--or perhaps he simply had faith in his own abilities now, as Master Yoda had always sought to instill.
Or maybe he remained in contact with the Darkness... that thought brought a slight frown to his face; fast, easy power--that was what Master Yoda had said. But would it be so terrible to use it as a method of escape--to gain Han's freedom? What could possibly be Dark in that intent? He glanced again at the windows, his momentary doubt rejected in the face of greater need.
In his meditative state, he easily picked up on Palpatine's presence as he moved through the Palace in the early evening, heading for Luke's quarters, sense focused, brimming with decisive intent, eager and energized and endlessly self-confident.
When he entered the hall two rooms away, Luke took one final deep, calming breath.
Long night ahead.
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Palpatine mouthed and espoused as only he could. Vindictive, manipulative accusations whose words Luke didn't even hear, gazing blankly at the old man, listening to his own blood whistling in his ears.
Time passed and he tried to listen, tried to react, tried to hide how wired and tense he was.
He reached out to take the large, engraved glass goblet from the table, momentarily chiding himself for not having taken the time to do this more often so that now it seemed a common act, casually transferring it to his left hand before bringing it to his dry mouth.
He took a long drink, wishing it were something stronger, aware of his heart pounding as he replaced the goblet to the table but not releasing it. Waiting--turning his attention back to Palpatine--concentrate!...
"...tell me that you have been struck from the Rebellion's records--they are disowning you, my friend."
"They wouldn't abandon me so hastily," Luke said, shaking his head.
"You are already gone, Jedi." Palpatine smiled, amused.
"Then who destroyed the Death Star?"
"The pilot who destroyed the Death Star died in the battle of Hoth, they say. That is the official line. He died a hero--sacrificed his life for their cause. You, my friend, are an Imperial agent. A spy who infiltrated their highest ranks and betrayed their every trust. I'm told they fell over themselves to desert you. To deny any association or connection with the man they couldn't wait to condemn. That is the extent of their loyalty--it always was."
Luke tensed against this final barb, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
"You have no--" The glass shattered into fragments in his hand, causing him to jump up and back as his chair toppled behind him.
He halted, cradling his injured left hand as blood began to flow from deep wounds, mingling with the red wine which stained the perfect white cloth of the table. Teeth clenched, he gingerly pulled at a large fragment which had lodged into the flesh of his palm, and dropped the scarlet-smeared shard to the table, reaching back to work a second razor-sharp splinter free.
The Emperor watched all of this in rapt silence, as if it were a diversion acted out for his personal entertainment.
Luke clenched his hand shut against the flow of blood, jumped just slightly, then carefully picked at another deep gash to pull free a vicious glass sliver. Again he squeezed his hand shut, dark, viscous blood oozing between his fingers and onto the already-stained cloth; more than he'd expected.
He gazed at his clenched fist for long seconds before finally lifting his head to Palpatine, eyes burning an accusation.
The Emperor only smiled, eyebrows raised in polite expectation. "Perhaps you'd like another glass?"
Luke glared long seconds before biting out, "Why, do you have something else you'd like to say?"
The Emperor paused considering, as if this had been a serious request. "No--no, I think we have finished tonight, my friend."
He rose, the heavy doors beginning their slow cycle of unlocking. Luke subconsciously counted out the seconds, as he had done a hundred times before. Mara entered, followed by six Royal Guards, who opened their tight, two-by-two formation to allow the Emperor to step between them.
Glancing nonchalantly back, Palpatine murmured to Jade, "See to his hand," before walking from the room without looking back. The doors slammed shut behind him, their staged lock engaging.
Mara stepped forward, hand outstretched, but Luke turned away. "It's fine," he lied, stalking back through the dark drawing room alone.
Check it...
"Let me check," she said easily, following him.
"I said it's fine," he dismissed again, dropping it casually open at his side to leave a trail of ruby drops scattered across the stone floor on his path through the bedroom and down the long marble corridor of the 'fresher suite.