Written for Yelling In Space, for her birthday! :D

Moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees overhead, surprisingly bright and blue for a night that had seemed so dark before he entered the forest. Luke shivered, and pulled his dark cloak tighter around his shoulders, lifted his lantern higher. The night cast strange shadows that nothing could vanish.

"Who goes there!" barked a voice.

Shit. Him again.

Luke lowered his lantern and swept his cloak over the top of it, praying that the glass didn't overheat and cause the fabric to catch fire—again. Old Ben joked that Luke went through more cloaks than he had at that age.

"Luke? Is that you again, you stupid boy—"

But no. It didn't catch fire—though his knee would be black and blue tomorrow, from the way the metal was bashing it, and he winced. But he kept going, staggering onwards, deeper into the forest, until—

"Halt!"

Right. The man was right behind him: Luke could see the yellow sphere of light his lantern cast in the woodland glade, soaking into his back and casting Luke's legs in thick shadow.

Luke didn't stop moving, though, kept stumbling forwards—

A huffed sigh, then jogging footsteps, then a hand wrapped around Luke's bicep and jerked him back. The lantern stumbled from Luke's grip, tumbled to the ground, and went out.

"Luke," Piett said. He sounded exhausted. "Do we always have to go through this?"

"You don't always have to catch me, Captain," Luke needled.

Piett sighed again. "Come on. Your aunt and uncle will be worried about you, I bet—unless you drugged them so they'd stay asleep?"

"What? No! No, I wouldn't do that!" There was no need. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru slept like the log Luke had tripped over ten minutes ago.

Piett snorted. "Then you're a much more moral teenager than some of the ones I deal with." He tugged on his arm. "Come on. No, don't argue with me, come on now, and pick up your lantern. I'm going to walk you home."

"You don't trust me to go home myself?"

"Absolutely not."

Luke sighed. "Lead the way, then."

But the moment Luke had picked up his extinguished lantern and turned back to him, Piett grabbed his shoulder again. He didn't shake him, but had he been anyone else he would've. "You have to stop doing this, Luke, it's dangerous."

"But, Captain—"

"No buts. I'll be speaking to your aunt and uncle when I drop you off. You need to stop wandering in the woods." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "There's a reason the mayor has banned anyone from leaving town by any other way than the path—even that road isn't safe enough. I know the whole catastrophe happened before you were born," he said, "but please, Luke. Don't bring that sort of devastation down on us again. Dozens of people died. Don't resurrect that by going looking for a monster who does not want to be found."

Luke snapped his gaze up to Piett's. "So you admit it is a monster who's totally crippled the town like this? That there are monsters in the woods?"

"Luke."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Fine, Captain. I promise you, I won't go looking again."

"That's what you said last week."

"I mean it this time!"

"And the week before."

"I—"

"And the week before."

Luke let out a breath. "Alright. I assume you'll be patrolling tomorrow as well?"

"Absolutely."

"Fuck."

"Watch your language, young man." They reached the gate in the fence that surrounded the town; Piett unlocked it with his night watch key and pushed it open, ushering Luke ahead of him with a stern glance. Luke obeyed...

Then stopped halfway.

He glanced over his shoulder. He heard...

A pale fire, bluer than it was gold, lit up the horizon above trees that did not burn. The stars shone bright against it, like sparks from the flame.

And he heard...

"Move, Luke."

He moved. He stumbled forwards, into the city, and the Piett locked the gate firmly behind him.

Luke's aunt and uncle lived in a house on the street nearest to the fence, so it was only a few minutes' walk from there over cobblestones and under fierce gas lamps in the cold moonlight. When they arrived, Luke stood awkwardly on the doorstep while Piett banged on the door, throwing apologetic glances to the houses on either side, for all that the houses were not glaring at him, and neither were the people inside.

They stood there a long time without anyone answering. Luke was just considering his options if no one woke up to let them in—could he pretend he had a key to round back and climb the tree outside his bedroom window to get back in? Or would Piett force him to go sleep in the night watch barracks—again—so he could march him home and have a stern conversation with his aunt and uncle in broad daylight.

That would be mortifying—for him and for Piett. But Piett would do it.

Then he heard footsteps.

His ears pricked up. That wasn't his uncle's heavy tread, nor his aunt's careful one; it was much faster, much more light-footed, and that meant—

The door crept open. Golden light spilled out around the silhouette of his sister, and she stifled a yawn, glaring daggers at Piett, then Luke. "What?"

Piett shoved Luke forwards. "I think you know what, Leia."

"Ah, yes. Thanks, Captain, for bringing him home safe again." Really, Leia was so skilled at playing the good child when she tried it. Luke was envious. "I'll let my aunt and uncle know in the morning; they're sleeping at the moment, and I don't want to wake them."

"Understandable." Piett tipped his little black cap, and straightened the lapels of his heavy jacket. "Goodnight, Leia—and goodnight, Luke. Please don't wander where you shouldn't, anymore." There was so much resignation in his voice. "Tell the Lars couple I send my regards."

"Will do," Leia said, mid-yawn.

Then, in a movement that belied her apparent tiredness, her hand shot out to snag Luke's arm and yank him into the house. The door shut behind him with a snap.

"I have been waiting up for you, for four hours," Leia hissed, though her eyes were bright. There was no performed tiredness there, anymore; she was just as much of a nocturnal creature as Luke was. "You couldn't have got yourself caught sooner?"

"I had to make it realistic that I'd have got that far at this time," Luke argued right back, making his way up the stairs. They automatically hushed their voice as they passed their aunt and uncle's room. "And besides, it wouldn't be a waste—I scouted out the last sector of the forest. You were right."

"The tower is not in the North-North-East section?" she drawled.

He grinned. "No." He shoved the door to their cramped, shared bedroom open and grabbed their sketched map off the table, rolling it across the floor. Leia tossed him a pencil and he shaded out the final sector of what looked like a fancy compass: a circle divided into sixteen parts. Only one was blank and white; he tapped the pencil against it. "The tower is due north of here. I checked on the way in—that's where most of the light comes from."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." He reached for his pack again, and slung it back over his back. Then he glanced down at his trousers, sopping with mud, and grimaced. Took everything off, and changed into his other set of dark clothes again, then shrugged his heaviest cloak over the top and sheathed a short knife in his boot.

He shook out his lantern, checked the glass. The soil fell off it like rain—he'd have a fun time sweeping all of this away in the morning before his aunt and uncle caught him—but none of the glass panels were cracked. With a wave of his hand, he lit the lantern again—that same crackling blue as the lights.

Leia scoffed, waved her hand, and the light went out. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Right." Luke picked up a notebook and slipped it into his pack, as well as a pencil and an apple he'd swiped from the pantry that morning. "Take notes."

"Whatever that monster can tell you, you'd better take notes."

"I will!" He slung the lantern over his shoulder—maybe he shouldn't light it until he was out the window, down the tree and over the fence; fire safety, or magical fire safety, and all that—and offered his sister a salute. "Wish me luck."

Leia pinched her lips. "Hopefully," she said, "you won't need it."

He just grinned at that, climbed up onto the windowsill, pushed aside the curtains, opened the window...

And jumped.

The woods were always magical at night.

Luke relit his lantern with that pearly glow and it... attracted the wonder, almost; suddenly everything took on a fairy tale sheen to it, limned in blue light. The moon bobbed like a bubble just beyond the tree canopy, impossibly large, and though there was no discernible path as he trekked due north, following the stars and the signs and his eyes, his footing was sure.

Until he got shouted at. Again.

"How did I know I caught you too easily the first time?"

Luke stiffened. No.

No, his lantern was blue this time—Piett would notice—and besides that, he was so close, he could almost see—

He could see.

There it was.

The vast sphere of the moon loomed directly ahead, bisected perfectly by a dark tower that stretched higher than the heavens.

Luke stopped and stared.

Piett, jogging after him in heaving puffs, stopped to see what he was staring at.

And then he said, "Shit."

Luke snapped his gaze round to him. "Please, Captain, I'm this close, I need to know—"

"You need to know nothing." Piett was vibrating out of his skin. The look on his face would be funny in any other light; in this light, it was ghastly. "Put out that infernal light and come back to the village with me."

"I've put so much energy into this, I've come so far, I need to—"

"Fuck your efforts, Luke Lars, they've done nothing but endanger the entire town we live in and give me a thousand headaches! Now," he marched forwards and seized Luke's arms again, "you will come back with me, forget you saw anything, and drop that bloody lantern—"

As he shook his arm, Luke did drop it.

And this time, it broke.

It broke and it rolled, and the pale fire caught like lightning on the undergrowth of this place, but nothing burned. It just wreathed the whole scene in even more unholy light: Piett's strained face, Luke's determined, shadowed eyes, the monster—

Piett released Luke's arm, staring bone-white at something behind him and backed away. Luke turned...

Only for his breath to freeze in his throat.

The creature was huge.

It dwarfed the trees, limned in that blue-white light, and Luke found himself staring into opal eyes of that exact colour, though they flushed a deeper blue—more like his—the more he stared at them. They were set deep in a scaled head, with a long snout and twisting horns, dark as the night sky. The neck spiralled down from there, lined in scales that glinted black-white in hard, smooth lines, and for a moment Luke thought he saw no wings.

Then he realised that he did see wings, dark, dark wings; what he didn't see were stars overhead.

The moon was cradled between the monster's horns like a crown.

"Lord Vader," Piett said regaining his composure. "I apologise, I know you requested that I keep all humans away from this spot, but this boy is persistent—"

Silence. That wasn't a voice. It was just a sound. It was just the vibrating of air particles at precisely the right frequency to imitate a voice, deeper and darker and more dreadful than any actual voice could be, and it froze Luke's blood to crimson crystals in his veins. Let the boy approach.

"L— Lord Vader, I must insist—"

If a child comes to me with lunar magic in his hands and a knife in his boot, I would hear what he has come to kill me for.

A heartbeat, and Luke realised everyone was looking at him.

"You're—" He had only inane things to say. He still said them. "You're a dragon!"

And is that what you have come to kill me for?

"What? No!" Luke shook his head vehemently. "I didn't come to kill you at all! I came to talk to you."

The dragon—Vader—blinked once, slowly, and took a while to respond.

You... have not?

"No! Of course not! The knife was only for protection if you decided to attack me, and," he eyed him up and down, "I'm not sure it would help much anyway."

A chuckle like boulders scraping against each other. I feel you sell yourself short, young one. You seem quite the fighter. But, the vibrations turned stern, why did you come, then?

Luke shrugged his shoulders in a way that was anything but indifferent. He snapped his fingers, and a white flame appeared, cradled in his palm.

"I need help," he said. "So does my sister."

With magic? You appear to have mastered that.

Luke said quietly, "With answers."

And you came to me because you thought I would have them?

"I came searching for the guardian of the tower," Luke declared, lifting his chin, "because I thought that was as good a place as any to start. Will you hear my questions?"

The dragon tilted his head, opal eyes, galaxy eyes, fixed on Luke. Luke did not flinch from his gaze.

I will hear your questions. I cannot guarantee I will answer them. What is his name, Captain Piett?

"Luke Lars, lord," Piett supplied.

Luke swallowed.

"That's my aunt and uncle's name," he corrected. "I... they made me take it, and I didn't understand why for a long time. But my father's name was Skywalker, so I'm actually Luke Skywalker."

He took advantage of the silence to inform the dragon, imperious and confident and brave: "And my father is actually the entire reason I'm here."

Vader's great claws pummelled the breath from Luke's lungs when he seized him in one foot, Piett in the other, and lunged, wings beating against the sky with a noise like the stars were crashing down.

What seemed like mere—breathless, terrifying, but mere—moments later, Vader threw them both down at the base of the tower that sprouted from the earth. Luke rolled and gasped for air.

His shoulder rammed into the obsidian stone wall of the tower and he started—stared up at the tower that extended forever upwards in his vision. The shock of stars he saw was interrupted by the graceful curve of a dark wing tucked into a dragon's side, then an eye full of stars, peering down at him.

It was unnerving, being the focus of that celestial gaze, Luke decided, but not necessarily scary.

Are you well?

"Huh—oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He got his hands underneath him and shoved himself upright. He burst out laughing at the look on Piett's face, and wondered for perhaps the fifth time that week why the man just didn't retire; he was pretty sure he didn't get paid enough to deal with Luke's shit.

Piett scowled at him, then laughed when Luke shook his head like a dog to clear all the loose soil from his head. Luke grinned to himself.

Vader gave that scraping laugh as well, then lowered his body so he was lying on the ground, and arched his neck to peer down at Luke and Piett.

So... There was another one of those long pauses Luke was starting to equate with shock, or hesitancy, or simply being at a loss for what to say. You claim to be Luke Skywalker.

"Claim? I am Luke Skywalker!" Luke crossed his arm mutinously. "Why would you doubt that?"

When I last saw Luke Skywalker, he was a newborn babe. You are almost grown.

When I last saw...

Luke's heart began to beat faster; he ignored the way the dragon's eyes narrowed in response, as if he could hear it.

If Vader had seen him as a child, then he must have known their father. And if he'd not come to town in years, hadn't seen him since then...

Perhaps it was to do with the incident that had killed their parents.

"That was years ago then, evidently," he said. "Have you not noticed the time fly?"

Vader shifted his gaze to the body of the tower, and Luke looked, suddenly aware of how much the scene around them was illuminated by white fire that didn't burn. He could see almost as clearly as day.

The tower was massive, with a diameter large enough that where the curved edges began to slope away from him, it was too far away for Luke to see clearly at night. And in it, just above a large hole that looked big enough for even Vader to crawl through, he could make out slash marks—no, tallies, carved into the stone.

There were... loads of them. They covered this whole side of the tower, all the way up.

I know I have been here for thousands of moonrises. I know no more than that.

Right. Thousands of nights did not tell Luke much.

"Alright," he said. "But I came here to ask about what happened to my father, Anakin Skywalker, that meant that when my mother died, my sister and I were sent to our aunt's and uncle's. Why wasn't he here to take care over us? Why—" He choked up. "How did he die? What's this catastrophe Piett keeps talking about, and what did my dad have to do with it?"

The dragon was silent.

Luke didn't realise he was crying until the tear hit his lip and he tasted salt. Piett was staring at him with a horrible sympathy, and Vader's gaze had not shifted from Luke's face.

Vader's gaze was very, very blue.

He said, Your mother is dead?

A second tear slid free and Luke wiped it away. "Yes. She died when I was a baby. An old friend of hers gave us over to Owen and Beru Lars to be looked after."

Your father's stepfamily.

"Yes."

And they made you take their name?

"Yes. I don't know why, but the way they were always so... anxious about who we said the name Skywalker to, made us think something important happened to our father."

Vader huffed, silver smoke curling upwards from both nostrils. The desperate delusions of orphaned children.

Luke went hot with offence. "Are you going to tell me we were wrong?"

Yes. Your father was a powerful mage, granted, but he was a fool and failed in everything he set out to do.

Luke went cold again.

"Well then," he said. "Thank you for your time, Vader—"

I will not take the risk of explaining what he did—nor what happened—before I can be assured that you will not make the same mistakes.

Luke lifted his chin. "Then what will assure you?"

Vader lunged at him.

Luke yelped at the sight of those pearly teeth, but they only clamped around the back of his heavy coat and tossed him through the hole in the side of the tower.

Again, Luke rolled and stood up quickly, grateful he didn't bash his head. This place seemed to be actually built into the side of the mountain face, he was starting to realise, and was much bigger than it appeared from the outside: the cavernous chamber stretched right back into the mountain, in natural caves, instead of just the manmade interior. There was a grand staircase leading up to the first floor—a sort of mezzanine level—and then farther, presumably to the second, then third.

Luke spun around, staring up at it while loosely aware of the great, shimmering black body of Vader wriggling its way into the caverns behind him. When he finally brought his eyes back down to the ground, he grinned. "This is so cool."

Is it?

Luke frowned, and looked closer.

On a second glance, it wasn't.

The staircase was littered with rubble, caked in dust. There were dark spots lining the walls which made him think of dried blood and torment. And... the more he looked at it, the less he thought that was a mezzanine above him. It was just a level of the tower with a gasped hole blasted in the floor by... something.

"What happened here?" he uttered. Vader just curled up in one of those caves and looked at him.

The catastrophe am I about to teach you to avoid.

Luke stared. "That's not an answer."

It was not intended to be one. Now, show me what you know of magic.

He scratched the back of his neck. "It's all... instinct. Nothing fancy, just trial and error, self-taught."

That is the case for all mages in this age. Show me.

So Luke did.

Leia was actually asleep by the time he stumbled home just before dawn, and he used the spare key he'd taken with him this time to slip into bed just before she woke, utterly, bone-deep exhausted. Fortunately the next morning was a Saturday, so he slept until eleven and no one commented, but he was still tired when he staggered down the stairs to get breakfast and found Leia conversing with someone at the door.

"Luke," Mayor Palpatine called out, smiling at him. "It's nice to see you—I was just dropping off the notebook Leia left at my office the other day."

He smiled back, and hoped the fact he smiled mid-yawn didn't look too horrifying. "Hello, sir. It's nice to see you too."

"How is school at the moment?" he asked kindly. Luke was a bit irritated he was intent on continuing the conversation when Luke was clearly very tired, hungry, and still wearing his pyjamas, but Palpatine was a nice mayor as far as mayors went, in Luke's experience. (Valorum had been a real—)

So Luke forced himself to keep smiling, and found it got easier as he kept talking. "It's going alright—I'm glad the summer holidays are coming up soon, but I'm not doing badly in any of my subjects—"

"Except literature."

"Well, yes, but who does well in literature?" Luke stuck his tongue out at Leia. "But it's going well."

"Are you planning on taking on a summer job?"

Luke blinked. "I... hadn't really thought about it, no."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous," he said, glancing between Luke and Leia, "but your sister is so impressive as one of my aides, even as a part-time job, I was wondering if you'd be interested in working for me in a similar position. Not the same one obviously, it took Leia quite some time to work her way up this far and I wouldn't want to invalidate that, but..."

Luke laughed a bit at that. "Thank you, sir, but I... don't have any interest in politics."

Palpatine's face went perfectly still for a moment, as if he couldn't fathom how on earth someone could have no interest in politics, but then he laughed himself. "Of course—I remember your father was much the same."

Luke's ears pricked up at that and he glanced up to find Palpatine's gaze on him, lost in thought.

Palpatine was pretty old.

And... it was a small town, but there was no guarantee everyone knew everyone, not particularly well, but if Palpatine was self-professed to have actually known their father...

"Well," Palpatine clapped his hands once, "I should get going then. Things to do, people to see. It was nice to see you, Luke," he nodded his head to him, "and Leia, I'll see you on Monday."

With a tip of his nonexistent cap, he left. Leia shut the door behind him.

"Luke," she said warily, "you were staring at him at the end. That was rude, and also—why were you staring?"

"He knew Dad," Luke said.

Leia frowned. He started walking into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of leftover porridge—he didn't care if it was nearly lunchtime—and Leia followed, still fixing him with that look. "So?"

"So..." He stared at her, pointedly lifting the spoon to his mouth. The porridge slopped off it and back into the bowl; he scrambled to pick some up again. "He probably knows something about his disappearance!"

"Luke. Everyone knows something about his disappearance. The problem is that no one wants to tell us anything."

"Yes, but you like Palpatine, don't you? You trust him?"

"Yes?"

"And he likes you. So he might tell you."

"Uh huh."

He gave in, and resorted to puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Leia? It can't hurt."

She deflated. "Alright," she said. "But only because I'm dying to know as well."

Luke grinned.

"Now," Leia said. "You are going to tell me all about your interaction with Vader..."

Luke napped for much of the afternoon, glad that Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were busy performing odd jobs around the town, then snuck out again at ten o'clock that night, when the moon was already high and the grasses whispered with silver.

He'd barely made it over the fence when someone seized the back of his jacket.

He automatically shouted out, kicking fiercely. White fire lashed out of his right fists and he heard a pained grunt as it lanced down his attacker's leg, before the attackers caught both his fists in his hands and Luke looked up to spit in his eye—

The glob of saliva landed right on one of the heavy bags under Piett's eyes.

Luke immediately stopped struggling. "Sorry, Captain."

Piett grunted again in response. "I was just going to escort you straight to Vader," he grumbled, "now that I know that neither of you are going to commit mass murder again at the faintest—"

"Mass murder? Again?"

"—no." Piett clammed up. "Forget I said anything. Now, let's go the direct route this time," he suggested, "since with this new burn on my leg you've graced me with, I'd rather not traipse after you as you wind through the undergrowth again and again and again in a futile attempt to avoid me."

Luke grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Captain..."

"Oh, be quiet and move."

You have injured Captain Piett?

Luke crossed his arms and glowered up at the dragon. Vader jerked back; how long had it been since someone had had the nerve to glower at him? "He attacked me first."

"I put my hand on your shoulder."

"You grabbed me!"

Then you had better apologise, Piett. The tone was as emotionless as ever, but the words were amused.

Piett squawked, but the dragon stared.

He muttered, "My apologies, Luke. I should not have grabbed you."

"Thank you," Luke accepted. A little imperiously, perhaps, but he was fifteen years old and pretty self-possessed. "I forgive you."

Now, little one, you must apologise.

Luke nodded. "I—"

I will teach you healing magic. Captain Piett's leg will be an excellent wound to practise on, and an excellent way of showing your regret.

Piett glanced up.

"You're going to practise healing on me?" he asked.

It sounded a bit like a squeak.

There are different kinds of magic, young one.

Luke stood in the middle of the ground floor of that destroyed tower again, trying to get used to Vader's bright gaze staring at him from his perch deep in the caves and listen. "Oh?" he said, and winced at how sarcastic it sounded.

Indeed. You are clearly proficient in celestial magic, the magic of the sky—your father, aptly named as you both are, was the same—but that is by far not all there is, and the inherently ephemeral nature of magic means that anyone can learn any of it.

"Inherently ephemeral...? Huh?"

There are many different types, Vader continued, ignoring Luke. Typical. Even celestial magic tends to be split between the sun and that of the daytime, and the moon and that of the night. And the sun is connected to fire, which is the natural opposite but equal to water, which has no connection to lunar magic despite these two dualities—

"Do—" Luke hesitated. "I don't want to be rude, but do we really have time to go through all of them now? I have less than an hour before I have to go home again; could you just explain the basics?"

The dragon huffed. These are the basics. A mage of your power, so long neglected, should be intimately familiar with them by now, so it is important that we catch up.

"Neglected?" He puffed himself up.

But... I concede that we have limited time. I will try to break it down further: all magic is different, depending on the user, but equal; however, some practitioners and practices are more... dangerous than others.

"Like... dark magic?"

Vader huffed again. It is called blood magic, but yes. Dark magic. Blood magic is a perverted form of water magic, only used in for conflict or pain, wherein the mage injures their opponent by turning their own body against them, rather than healing them, as water magic does—

"Huh."

Vader glared. It... is often one of the most effective, brutal forms.

"You mean it's the most powerful?"

I mean it is the most brutal and the most difficult to fight.

Luke flinched at the growl that reverberated through the cavern to accompany those words. He realised he hadn't actually heard Vader make a physical sound, before then, other than his footsteps and wing beats.

I trust you understand that I will not be teaching you it.

Luke nodded. "Yes, sir."

Good. Now take up a position, and cast a spell.

He blinked. "But we've only talked through theory so far, you haven't even touched on healing or told me want to—"

I want to see how much of this is instinctive to you. You have proficiency in summoning moonfire. Show me.

"Alright..." Luke took up his position.

Piett, who'd been sitting on the staircase and watching with an unabashedly fascinated gaze, shuffled away. Luke stuck his tongue out at him.

"Alright." Luke took in a deep breath, and then pulled on... that thing, deep inside him, that he'd been prodding and tugging on for as long as he could remember, and blue-white fire—moonfire, had he called it?—erupted around him in a pillar of light. He smiled, and with a snap of his hand summoned it into a ball, then a whip-flash, then into the shapes of little birds, fluttering around him. Watched them closely: they weren't any one colour, the more he watched them, but oscillated between brightest white and a deep blue; orange in some spots, almost like an ordinary flame, then almost green.

He spun around in them and laughed, almost despite himself, holding out his hand to almost touch them but never quite; they were cold, colder than he could bear, and somehow he knew there was the risk of frostbite if he held on for too long.

Piett, for all that he was probably still very annoyed at the cold burn Luke had given up, watched Luke and his birds with an open mouth.

A powerful spell, Vader admitted—somewhat begrudgingly despite his pride, Luke felt, and wasn't that a conundrum to untangle— but your technique for summoning the magic itself could be improved. Stand up straight.

Luke did so.

Focus on what you want to achieve—see it in your mind. And as you summon, shout out.

Luke grimaced. "Like, the words to a spell?"

No—like a release of tension; it helps the magic flow if you're letting your emotions flow too. Try it.

Luke drew in a breath, closed his eyes, and pulled again. This time, he held it for a moment—it crackled somewhere in his chest, making his hair stand on end—and then unleashed it with a shout into a flash that sent the temperature of the mild night plummeting and Piett covering his eyes with a grunt.

Vader barely flinched. Pathetic. Do it again. Shout then cast the spell. Yell and spell, at the same time.

Luke did. His throat hurt and he was developing a headache from all the light, noise, and his split attention.

Again.

Luke did it again—

You can stop.

Luke collapsed to the ground, panting, not even caring that he was getting dirt in his hair. "That doesn't help, it's exhausting."

I know, it does not. But it was very funny to watch.

Luke glowered.

The weekends passed quickly after that. Luke was a dedicated enough student that after a few disastrous attempts of sneaking out on a weekday, he stuck to weekends and just practised magic during the week, teaching Leia everything he'd learnt and writing down any questions they both came up with.

Why does your sister not come? Vader asked him one day, almost disappointed.

Luke didn't open his eyes to answer, too focused on actually healing the scar still left on Piett's leg from his... overzealous response to being attacked. Piett, by this point, had just resigned himself to the fact that his leg might end up going purple again. "She has a part-time job as the mayor's aide—it was offered to her after they worked together on some project or something. She has to spend most of her evenings doing that."

I see, Vader said, and no more was said on the subject.

"If you're the supposed monster in the woods," Luke said one day, "who everyone blames for the town's decline, but you just hang out here and hunt on occasion... why is the town declining?"

How should I know? I have not set foot in it for thousands of moonrises.

Luke scoffed. "That tells me you do know, you just want to avoid telling me."

A rock-scraping chuckle. Indeed, young one. I do know.

Luke waited a moment, trying to hold the fire—fire, not moonfire, this was not his area of expertise—in his hand before turning back to Vader. "So...?"

Vader eyes slid back to him. The town is under the influence of a blood mage, young one. Of course it is declining.

"I'm sorry," the fire went out, "what?"

A blood mage lives in the town, influencing and editing events to suit their purposes. They, in part, caused the catastrophe fifteen years ago, they—

Luke paused, waiting...

They are the reason I am trapped within this form.

Luke said, "Who is it?"

They will have changed their name. Changed who they are—blood magic could alter someone's appearance easily, even cause them to live forever. Nothing I can tell you will be of use to you.

Luke deflated.

"But then... why don't you leave?" he whispered. "Aren't you at risk, if they're so close?"

I am. But I cannot leave this town.

"But what if—"

I cannot leave this town.

Luke shut up.

Vader said more gently, What were you expecting, young one? There is a reason that a town once so vibrant with magic has all but forgotten it. The blood mage holds control over it all; they have all the books on magic within, they have locked down the town so only things they authorise can get in or out, and if they themselves sniff out any powerful mages they want to train to be their servants, then they have the monopoly. No one can train whom they do not oversee, and those they oversee will always be totally loyal to them. And that way, there are no other options for mages seeking to control their gifts.

"Except for you," Luke murmured.

Except for me. But I am hardly an appealing option.

Luke didn't know what to say to that, so he just... kept thinking, and continued practising.

The next afternoon Luke had—by some miracle—already woken and dressed when Palpatine came knocking on the door again, after Leia took a weird shift and the buses were being inconvenient.

He answered the door distractedly anyway, dropping the maths homework he'd been staring at in a daze of confusion and clutching his pen tightly as he pulled at the doorknob. He barely had the presence of mind to register that it was Leia behind the door and to step back to let her in, automatically sticking his tongue out at her, when he saw the mayor behind her and did a double take.

"Luke," Palpatine said warmly, graciously ignoring Luke's undignified behaviour. He was wearing a gold and purple old-fashioned jacket, buttoned up to his neck—the purple was so dark that Luke had the thought that it reminded him of the void, and decided he probably needed more sleep. "The buses were acting up again—we really should focus more on their funding at the next council meeting—so I agreed to drop Leia home."

Luke nodded. "That's very kind of you, sir," he said, and made to shut the door. Leia had sat herself on the stairs, watching him with amusement.

"While I'm here," Palpatine continued. "I know you said you were looking for a summer job"—he hadn't said that—"but weren't interested in politics"—he had said that—"and... well. An old acquaintance of mine who lives in Coruscant owns several businesses, one of which is a successful mechanics shop. Leia tells me you have an interest in that...?"

"I do," Luke confirmed.

"Ah, well I was wondering if you'd like to take on a small role there. I can give you his contact details so you can write to him whenever you like, but I'd suggest you do it soon." He chuckled a bit. "My word on your behalf might count for something, but only if no one else has snapped up the position before you."

He held out a neatly folded piece of paper. Luke took it, raising his eyebrows at the town logo and Palpatine's name emblazoned in the corner, then read it.

"Dooku?" he said aloud. Then his eyebrows climbed even higher. "He's a count?"

"A distant relative of mine, yes."

"You're a count?"

"A lord through my father's side, but I don't use my title regularly." Palpatine smiled. "Are you interested? It would only be for a few weeks."

"I..." He bit his lip. "Coruscant's a long way away. And expensive." And dangerous, from what he'd heard—not that that was his concern, but his aunt and uncle...

Palpatine seemed to pick up on that concern, anyway. "It is, but I have friends who'd be happy to house you for that time so you wouldn't have to live alone or pay for accommodation. A lot of teenagers are making their way out in the world over there."

"I... I'd have to think about it."

Behind him, he heard Leia scoff. He restrained the urge to roll his eyes right back at her.

But Palpatine was unfazed. "Of course," he said, and patted his shoulder. "Contact him in your own time, but do let me know if you decide to? I'd be happy to see what I can do to make it easier for you."

Luke nodded. Smiled a little. "Thank you," he said, and when Palpatine went to turn away his closed the door on him.

"You're an idiot," Leia said immediately. Luke did roll his eyes that time and made to jog up the stairs past her, but she grabbed his arm. "Count Dooku is one of the most powerful men in Coruscant! And sure, you won't be working for him, but all of his businesses do really well, and the interns they take on always go on to do great things. This is a great opportunity; you'll move to Coruscant, the bright centre of the world, you'll be able to get some experience and make sure the important people will see how brilliant you are—"

"I still have to think about it, Leia," he said, finally getting free and heading up the stairs. She huffed, and followed him.

He went straight back to sitting at his desk, where the cursed maths work was and threw his pen down. Then he glanced at the paper Palpatine had given him and carefully tucked it in one of his folders.

Leia grinned. "Oh, you do like the idea of it."

"I do," Luke admitted. "It's Coruscant. Tatooine's a tired, dying little backwater town; I'm ready to explore other places. But..."

"I'm sure Uncle Owen will let you go. He wants what's best for you."

Luke smiled. "I'd be gone for weeks. You think you can survive that long with me?"

"Please. It's you I'm worried about."

He twisted around to sit on his desk, meeting her eye from where she was perched on her bed. "No one to share a room with for weeks, no one to bicker with for weeks. No one to teach you magic."

She cast her eyes down. "I'm... actually having second thoughts about that."

Luke blinked.

What—

"You don't want to keep learning?" he asked. His astonishment was clear in his voice and Leia made a face. "But this"—he clicked his fingers and summoned one of those pocket fires, sitting small and blue in the palm of his hand like a cornflower—"is a part of us. We've had it all our lives. Do you not want to learn to use—"

"Of course I want to learn," she snapped. "But not from a dragon who refuses to tell us anything about his past, or what the fuck happened so long ago. From his silence," she added, "I'm starting to think that he—"

Luke closed his eyes. "Leia."

"What? It's possible. He killed our father. How else would it have happened, and why wouldn't he tell you otherwise?"

"If you saw how he acted," Luke bit out, "you wouldn't think like that about him. He's good. And besides," he added. "Who else is there to teach us?"

"We're smart, and we've come this far; we can work it out ourselves," Leia spat. "And if not, then I'm sure there are other mages around. There's no way we are the only ones. Not when there's a dragon living right outside the town."

"I know there's a blood mage exerting their influence everywhere," Luke snapped. "Would you like to learn from them?"

"What the fuck is a blood mage?"

"I explained this all to you, you— ugh." He threw up his hands. "They're— they're basically people who use dark, blood, magic, they use various strands of magic to manipulate physical bodies to cause harm, can change their features and sometimes live forever if they're powerful enough, but that strand of magic is usually forbidden for a reason. It only brings pain, it's not encouraged to be taught, and whoever's practicing it around here is apparently the reason for why the town's been declining so much recently!"

Leia folded her arms and didn't meet his gaze. "And you'd rather learn from a dragon?"

"Did you hear what I just said? Yes I'd rather learn from a dragon." He scoffed. "That sort of person would only want total submission and obedience in return for the honour of being trained by them, and I pity the poor idiots who agree to their teaching."

Leia flinched, nostrils flaring, and snarled, "Says the person who's being trained by the beast who killed his father." She laughed. "Who knows what he wants to use you for, provided you don't just become a snack—"

"Why don't you meet him yourself," Luke snapped, "if you're so certain about how evil he is? Instead of sending your expendable brother to do the meeting so you can learn what you want without having to put your own neck on the line, conveniently spending more and more time with Palpatine so you never have to come, because you're too afraid—"

"I am not afraid of him! I just don't trust him—"

"But you're perfectly alright with me—"

"I was going to say something! But you always looked so happy!" She sank down onto her bed, fists trembling on her knees. "And now you're acting like an idiot, so I guess now is the time to say it—"

"Do you trust me?" Luke pushed.

She blinked at him. "Of course I do," she said. "And I don't want you—"

"Then come with me. For one night. Meet Vader, and form your own opinion of him." He pushed himself off the desk and went to sit on his own bed, right across from her. Their knees knocked together. "C'mon, you know I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you'd be absolutely fine."

She gave him a look, head slightly tilted, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said, and actually laughed a bit when Luke lunged at her and hugged her. She hugged him back. "I'll come tonight."

And she did. Piett was waiting for Luke in his usual place, his lantern casting gold across his face, and he groaned when he saw Leia. "Luke, you had to drag someone else into this, didn't you?"

"I was already a part of it, thank you very much," Leia shot back.

Piett just sighed.

"Come this way then," he said, hoisting his lantern higher. "And don't wander. One dragon is quite enough to deal with; I don't need you running off and getting paralysed then devoured as an offering to a krykna queen from her colony."

"Uh," Leia said, "what's a krykna?"

"What indeed," Piett replied. His voice was utterly monotone.

Vader was waiting in the tower, as usual, but his dark scales blended into the shadows of the cavern in which—Luke had realised after an embarrassingly long time—he slept. Leia was too focused on stepping into the ruined tower, staring around at the rubble of the grand stairs, the walls and the upper floors, as well as the scorch marks left from when a few of Luke's spells had gone wrong to see the way the black stone sides of the cave gave way to smoother, softer scales, gently rising and falling with breath; she was standing in the middle of the room and staring around, turning in a slow circle...

And then Vader cracked open one brilliant eye, the pupil the size of Leia's head, and she screamed.

There was the sound of rocks scraping together, and Luke laughed too, eliciting a glare from his sister. He just stepped forwards to take her arm and drag her towards the dragon now uncoiling from his sleeping position, watching the awe and fear as she watching him grow and grow in size until he towered over her. His wings sagged behind him, not spread, but he still seemed to fill the whole room.

Then he dropped back into a lying down position, belly to the ground and feet tucked in front of him, and huffed smoke out of his nostrils. The entire earth shuddered under his weight. You did not tell me you were bringing your sister, Luke, he said.

Leia... didn't flinch as she heard the voice, but tilted her head oddly, like she thought she might have water in her ear. Luke smiled.

"It was a last minute decision," he said easily. "Leia, this is Vader."

The girl and the dragon stared each other down for several minutes more, Leia unmoving and stiff.

Then Vader said, You look... a great deal like your mother, Leia Skywalker.

She jutted out her chin. "I've heard that before."

Where? Padmé Amidala had been from outside the town; who had Leia met that told her that?

Vader huffed again. It is true.

Leia said nothing. Just crossed her arms.

Vader said, Have you come to learn? Luke tells me you have a part time job you are extremely dedicated to—did your curiosity simply outweigh that today? Were you assured of a break or a day off tomorrow? I was under the impression that you were satisfied with Luke passing on my teachings.

Leia got a look on her face, and Luke cringed pre-emptively.

"I don't trust you," she said bluntly. Well, he supposed, at least she was being honest. "You warn about dangers of the town's blood mage, and speak cryptically about whatever happened just after we were born—and you do that too," she glared at Piett, "—and expect Luke to listen, when you refuse to tell him the whole truth?"

"I do listen," Luke piped up.

"You're gullible and trusting," she shot back. Her arms were still crossed, tightly to herself. She turned back to Vader. "You can't expect us to do everything you say when you refuse to answer the questions we came to you with in the first place. So I'm coming here to ask them, since Luke's clearly not about to."

The dragon tensed. It was not a subtle thing, when such a large creature tensed; there was so much body that the whole thing shifted, like a rock face during an avalanche.

Ask away, he drawled. Luke winced.

Don't say it, Leia; don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

"What really happened back then?" she demanded. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. She hadn't said it—

"Because from what I've heard, there was a mass slaughter—one that my father died in. And the only creature around here that seems to be capable of mass slaughter is you."

Never mind. She'd said it.

He tensed further, and Luke physically flinched at the growl that rumbled out of him. Immediately after he did, Vader stopped, but Leia had already taken a step towards him, shielding him from Vader.

"Well?" she said. "I want to know."

Piett cut in, "All anyone knows of the slaughter, Leia, is that some local mage was trying to set up a magic school so he could pass on what his mother had taught him, and something there went wrong. One of the students turned on the others, or it was a trap, something happened, but everyone present was killed—including your father, and your mother was left badly injured. She died of her wounds a few weeks later, and the mayor banned all mentions of magic in the wake of it all."

He shrugged. "The town was scarred, and rumours got out so tourism dropped, many of the larger, wealthier families who'd got that way through the magic in their bloodline had lost loved ones there, so they moved away, and the town's been in decline ever since.

"The monsters in the woods don't help," he added sadly. "They... were unleashed, somehow. My job was created to keep them at bay, but still. It's dangerous to travel around here."

Luke stared. "Why couldn't you have just told me that before, instead of letting me roam through the woods for so long and scold me when I did? I would've—"

"You would not have stopped. You would have gone straight to Palpatine to demand he let you see the magic books. You would have sought out the dragon, because you're a stupid, reckless teenager, and that's what stupid reckless teenagers do."

Luke smiled sheepishly. Piett, as grey-faced as he looked some of the... well, most of the time, smiled back slightly. "Fair point."

"Thank you for telling us, Captain Piett." Leia uncrossed her arms, and for a moment Luke thought everything was fine—until she put her hands on her hips, and he realised it was not. "But that's not the whole story, is it, Vader? You were there. You can fill in the blanks."

Luke had almost forgotten Vader was there. He turned back, to see those celestial eyes fixed on him and Leia, like two stars shining almost too brightly to look at.

I was there, he admitted. I was the mage who tried to found the magic school, in this very tower.

Luke's jaw dropped... and then an unholy choking sound forced its way over his tongue as he looked around the tower again, the grand staircase, the hole in the ceiling... the destruction...

Leia was unmoved save for a tiny bit of sympathy, etched in the softening of her face. "And what happened then?" she pressed.

Two white columns of smoke rose from Vader's nostrils, briefly obscuring his eyes, before the screen faded and he was just as imposing as ever.

I did not know there was a blood mage in the town, he admitted. Not then. I did not know it was my old family friend, Sidious, who had tried to turn me to his teachings before he gave up... But it was not him who wreaked this havoc. It was his apprentice.

"His apprentice?" Luke swallowed. "There's more than one blood mage around here?" In front of him, Leia shifted uncomfortably, but he stepped forwards so he could see Vader wholly, staring him in the eye.

Leia grabbed his bicep so tightly it hurt. "Luke—"

Not anymore, unless he has taken on a new one. She is dead.

"...how?" Leia asked, narrowing her eyes. "What was her name?"

Her name is unimportant; I have forgotten it already. Asajj, or Amylion, or Andor, or something. She was just fodder for Sidious to use to destroy the school. She stayed for three days, and when none of us expected it, she turned the magic of fire and blood and stone against us, mutilating every student—men, women and children—within the tower and rendering it the ruin you see today. Everywhere...

A long, drawn out pause.

Then he said, Everywhere was dark, dark red. With blood.

Towards the end of the slaughter, her master came to finish the job. I was half-dead, ready to die, after my failure, and Sidious stood over me and laughed. And then, as a blood mage... he cursed me to live, in another form. He made me... this.

For an emotionless, monotone voice, the sheer amount of disgust channelled into the word was extraordinary.

Many of the students were twisted and warped similarly, but not into dragons—into mindless krykna. I was the only one allowed to keep my mind, and my guilt, but at first...

Mad with pain and confusion at being forced into a new form, they unleashed me on the survivors they hadn't yet transformed. And in my bloodlust daze, I killed them all. I slaughtered them like the animals I have to hunt to survive.

Luke gave a little squeak. Leia's hand released his arm—good, that had started to hurt—and was rubbing his back instead. It was calming; he reached for her right back, and looped his arm round her waist.

"I'm sorry," Luke whispered, "that they did that to you."

Vader's gaze whipped back to him, shock evident.

As was Leia's. "He killed our parents, Luke."

"He didn't say—"

I did not kill Anakin Skywalker—Sidious and his apprentice did that. He was a powerful mage, and they would not have suffered him to live.

"Great," Leia bit out, "and our mother?"

He hung his head.

She... was one of the many I attacked, he admitted. Luke closed his eyes. But after only the first swipe, drawing first blood... it was when I saw her face that I remembered myself—who I was, beyond a creature mad with pain. When she left the tower, I did not think she was fatally injured.

Leia scoffed. "Well then," she snapped, "seeing as she died..."

I was wrong. Luke opened his eyes to seeing Vader tense again. She... had recently given birth to the two of you, I thought at least that she returned well enough to move out of this terrible town with you two, and raise you. Until I met Luke... I did not know she had died.

But I did know that after that, I swore never to teach anyone again. I would hide here, where the blood mage thought I would never return and so would never find me, and I would stay here until I died.

Leia frowned. "Then why did you teach Luke?"

Vader gave no answer to that. He closed his eyes, and went so still Luke thought he might have died.

"Vader..." he said, but was cut off by Leia tugging at his arm.

"We're leaving, then."

"What? Leia—"

"I want to talk to you about this," she said fiercely, "and you can come back here any night of the year. Now let's go."

Piett picked up his lantern. "I will escort you."

"That won't be necessary, this is a private conversation."

"But the monsters—"

"Are just men, apparently." She shot a glare at Vader. "I guess we have nothing to fear from them."

That is not what I said—

"Come on, Luke!"

Finally, begrudgingly, he followed... but when he saw Vader peel a single eye open to watch them leave, he sent him a reassuring smile nonetheless.

"He's a murderer."

"He means well, and he was confused."

"I don't believe a word he says—how do you know that he—"

"That didn't help convince you at all, did it," Luke said wryly, hopping over a log. The moon was bright tonight, but his lantern was brighter, casting Leia's twisted sneer into a grotesque expression.

"Of course not! He confessed to killing—"

"Dad was killed by the blood mage, you heard that, and besides..." Luke trailed off. "From the way he talked about you, and our mother..."

"Exactly. Our mother was killed by him—he confessed it himself, as I was saying! And you want to keep learning—"

"He said he barely injured her. He snapped out of it immediately upon seeing her face, which—I don't know about you, but—suggests to me that he is—"

"He was probably lying, to make himself look better! Some tragic sob story, about how he brutally murdered a bunch of people, but hey, not your mother, she wasn't injured at all, she just died of mysterious causes—"

"A few weeks later, Captain Piett said," Luke pointed out. "Isn't it a bit suspicious for her to have taken that long to die, if it was from wounds Vader inflicted on her?"

"Captain Piett could've been wrong."

"I don't think he was—"

There was a sound in the distance.

Leia tensed. Luke tensed, freezing up, and they stop in hushed silence, Luke closed his hand and letting his lantern go out. A silvery strand of mist floated past them, but they heard...

...nothing.

"Do you think that was one of those fearsome krykna?" Leia mocked. "I bet he's the monster in the woods causing all this horridness."

Luke ignored her. They were silent for a few minutes more, then he relit the lantern and they continued on.

"I don't think you're... wrong," he admitted, and it was more peace offering than truth, but it worked. "I was thinking, that if I'm going away for the summer, I'll... put the lessons on hold, once I go. Think about whether I want to continue after I get back, and make a decision."

Leia hummed. "And, you heard back from Dooku, right? When are you leaving, if you go?"

"Two weeks, or just under. When school finishes for summer."

"Alright." She squeezed his hand. "I will miss you, you know."

He smiled at her in the moonlight, and almost managed to ignore the dragon-shaped shadow that still hung over them like a storm. "I know."

Luke went back to Vader for one more lesson before he had to go, suddenly finding his schedule swamped with organising the whole trip. It went quickly, it went smoothly, until at the end, Luke had to say:

"I'm leaving next weekend."

And Vader froze. What?

Luke swallowed. "I'm leaving next weekend," he said. "For the whole summer. The mayor—Palpatine, that is—found a summer job opportunity in Coruscant that I can't pass up, so I'm moving there until school starts again in autumn. I... won't be around for lessons, in that time."

I see. Vader seemed at a loss for what to say. Will you enjoy yourself?

Luke smiled. "I hope so."

Good. I... will see you when you get back?

He grimaced. "Probably," he said, and didn't elaborate on what that meant. "And... I've been meaning to ask you..."

One look in Vader's eyes, and the question died in his throat.

"Never mind," he said, and went back to practising magic. "It can wait until summer's over."

When Piett dropped him off at the town wall that night, he clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll miss this," he admitted.

Luke beamed at that. "I'll miss you too, Captain."

"Yes, yes." Piett waved his hand. "Go and sleep. And try not to get into too much trouble in the big city."

Luke just grinned wickedly at that, and Piett's sigh, when it came, was more fondly exasperated than exhausted.

No matter how far Palpatine's generosity extended, it did not extend to four hours' worth of transport all the way to Coruscant. So Luke was left standing with Leia by the bus stop at the edge of town, saying his last goodbyes, and waiting for the one bus that came every week to drop by.

Leia hugged him tightly. "I'll miss you," she said. "Make sure to write."

"I will," Luke promised. His feet hurt from the walk here, his arm hurt from lugging the massive, hideous suitcase Uncle Owen had given him, and his fingers hurt from clutching the bus ticket too tightly in his hand. But he let himself lean on Leia for a moment, enjoying the hug, then pulled back again. "I'll write every..."

He trailed off.

"Luke? What is it?"

His gaze latched onto something over her head, and he stared.

She twisted around to see what he was looking at.

The horizon was lit up in white fire the same way it often was at night, except... this never happened during the day. Vader didn't hunt during the day.

But when he cast out his senses, observed where the patterns of magic were, and where they fell, they all congregated around...

"The tower," Luke said.

Leia grabbed his arm. "Luke—"

His suitcase tipped over and thudded to the ground but he paid it no heed, his gaze fixed on that inferno he could see, like a pillar of light. "Vader—"

"Is a dragon, I'm sure he can handle whatever this is."

"He's in trouble." He yanked his arm against her grip and started running. "I've got to go and help him."

"Luke, wait!" Footsteps coming after him, Leia gaining quickly, but Luke just sprinted along the edge of the dirt road, through the forest, back to the town— "Luke, you'll miss the bus!"

"To hell with that!"

"Luke stop!"

She stopped running.

Luke's right leg twisted underneath him and he fell, hitting the ground hard. Brown dust puffed up around him, coating his throat and tongue; he coughed endlessly. Leia's shadow fell over him as she approached, slowly; he looked up at her when her head eclipsed the sun.

"Leia," he said, pushing himself to his feet and turning back towards the town. "Help me up, we need to get to where Vader is, the blood mage might've found him, he might be in— agh!"

Something in his leg twisted, fiercely, and he went down onto one knee again, a cry ripping out of him. He clutched for his calf but the muscle still danced oddly under his touch for a few more moments before it faded, the pain lingering.

When he looked up, he froze.

Leia's hands were outstretched, and she was watching him with a wary expression.

"You can't go to Vader," she said.

"You—" Luke said, then coughed. The dust still clung to his throat. "You're—" He threw himself back to his feet and she didn't bring him down this time, just stepped up and reached for his head.

"You're tired," she intoned, and he saw dark spots grow and mingle in front of his eyes—

"No!" His right hand snapped up and she darted back to avoid the spurt of fire that came for her, flickering every colour in existence—he didn't know what branch of magic he was using here—before it flickered out. She narrowed her eyes.

Luke started backing away from her. "You're a blood mage," he said, horrified.

She tried to reach for him, reached out her hand, but he flinched and her lips tightened. "Vader lied to you," she said. "This magic is not—"

"You lied to me as well," he snapped. "So, what? All this time I've been dedicating myself to passing on everything I know, warning you about everything, and you've just been training under the town's blood mage behind my back?"

"I knew you'd freak out!" She stepped forwards; he backed away more. "It came a few lessons after you first met Vader, Palpatine came clean to me and said he was worried you were going to be led astray without proper tuition—"

"Palpatine? He's— Oh my gosh." He stared. "He's Sidious? The one who—"

"Vader was lying, Mayor Palpatine told me the truth. Vader lured all the students there in a human form, and when they refused to obey him he transformed into a dragon and slaughtered them all—including our father. He's been waiting for us to grow up for so long so he could use what was left of Dad's bloodline as his personal mages, and—"

"You believe this?"

"Stop interrupting me!"

"That goes for you too! Did you..." He took a deep breath, glancing between Leia and the fire of the horizon. He felt cold—colder than moonfire itself.

"You told the blood mage—Palpatine—exactly where Vader was, didn't you?" He took a shuddering breath. "You... you're the reason he..."

"It wasn't supposed to start until you were out of town," she snapped. "He— Vader was going to use you and manipulate you until you were totally under his thrall, and kill you if you resisted, and I wasn't going to let that happen, Luke."

"You're an idiot, Leia—between Palpatine and Vader, which one of them has actually taught one of us how to rip the other one apart?"

"Which one of them killed our mother?"

"For all you know about how she died, several weeks later, it was your precious—"

"She was his political protégée!" she screamed. "Why would he do that!? It was Vader: Vader killed our mother, Vader killed our father—"

"Vader is—"

Leia lashed out then, and Luke dragged up a sheet of moonfire between them, breaking her concentration. There was a bottle of water in the front pocket of his suitcase, just behind her; he yanked it out and drenched her. She gasped—

But didn't lose her focus for an instant, and the moment he dropped his fire-shield for something else she pummelled him backwards. He went sprawling on his belly, gasping for air, and for a moment he didn't make to get up.

Leia lowered her hands. "I don't want to hurt you, Luke," she said. He believed her; tears dripped down her face. "But if I let you get to that tower, you will be caught in the crossfire and killed. Palpatine is an extremely powerful mage. He can handle Vader, easily, and then you can come and learn with us."

Her voice broke the longer he didn't look at her. He did not have it in him to feel any sympathy.

Instead, he waited for the pain to fade to a dull ache then kicked up, wind rushing in to stir the dust into a thick cloud around them. He darted away as she spun, coughing, and dived into the woods. The wind died, the dust settled, and he crept away into the shadows as she peered around for him, one step, two steps, three steps—

Snap.

A twig went under his foot and she raised her arm in his direction; for a moment his throat closed, his neck crushing itself to a pulp, and he gasped for air—

Fire needs air—

But moonfire did not. A whip of it set the trees ablaze without burning and she yelped as it chilled the bottom of her shoes, staggering back, the orange skirt of her neat dress swirling around her like radioactive rain.

She glared at him. As the moonfire flickered less blue, and threatened to turn hot and yellow, her irises almost seemed gold. "You—"

Luke ran.

Navigating forest undergrowth was second nature to him by now, and he zigzagged fast enough that his sister couldn't get a lock on him, running, running, until his lungs were empty of breath and his legs ached for entirely natural reasons—

But then Leia caught up and sent him flying.

He crashed into a tree, hard enough that he saw stars for a moment, then rolled to his feet. Lifted his arm to throw—

And she snapped it.

He shouted in pain, instinctively cradling it against his chest and collapsing against the tree again. Sobs wracked his body, tears tracked fire down his cheeks.

He blinked hard enough for his vision to clear, to see Leia running, shock and regret and horror in her eyes, and collapsed to her knees right in front of him. "Luke."

She reached for his arm and he jerked away, glaring.

"Luke, I didn't want to hurt—"

"So much for that," he bit out. "You—"

There was the snap of a twig.

And another.

And another.

A... creaking, skittering sound that sent shivers up Luke's back, like he was being swarmed by...

His lifted his gaze to just behind Leia.

By spiders.

"Leia," he whispered.

Leia closed her eyes. "Krykna?" she whispered back.

Luke nodded. It was... ghastly, it was massive, it was an arachnophobe's nightmare incarnate. A pale, bulbous body with eight legs lean and muscled, hairless and white. The creature's eight eyes bulged like dark, fat berries from its front and the two fangs shot down like needles, dripping venom—paralytic venom, Luke thought, if Piett was to believed.

"Oh, fuck..."

If Piett was to be believed, if he remembered correctly, krykna would paralyse a human then... drag their bodies to their queen... as an offering...

Luke's stomach almost revolted at that, already nauseated from pain and stress. His tears came again, sharper, but he blinked them away. Not now. Not now.

"Do you think it sees us?"

Leia opened her eyes again, wincing fiercely, and Luke wondered what it... felt like, to someone wielding blood magic. If Vader was to be believed, that thing used to be a human...

And now it was a monster.

"Yes," Leia said. "I think it does."

Then she moved.

She threw herself back, almost faster than Luke's eye could see and pivoted on her foot, seizing the creature by the leg and yanking it clean off. It did nothing; it had eight more, and knew all too well the agony of blood magic.

She was a good few metres away from Luke when it charged at her and then it clicked in his mind:

She was leading it away from him. She was leading it away from her brother.

Oh no. She was not dying for him.

He used his left arm to hoist himself up and planted his feet when he did, washing what little healing magic he could summon over his head, his torso, before he shouted, "Hey!"

A spear of moonfire accompanied it and the creature let out a... a screeching howl, that shattered the air and set his ears ringing as it turned, those gleaming dark eyes—like the boiling surface of a black river—turning to regard him. It bared its fangs—

And Leia tried again. A slash ripped through its abdomen, spilling indigo blood down to splash into the undergrowth, which withered and died where it hit. But it sealed up quickly, and it turned its attention back to Leia, hissing...

She ran.

There was nothing she could do to it that had not been done and they both knew it—and one wanted revenge. It gave chase on seven legs with a ravenous ferocity that terrified Luke and—

And he—

He was a member of a powerful mage family, Vader had said. His father had been—his father was—a magical genius.

Luke would not let him down.

The inferno that consumed that creature... could not be described. It was not the opposite of that monstrosity; Vader had explained, there were no opposites when everything was linked. But it was the antithesis, the scourge: it healed and it killed and it undid, and the krykna screeched again when water, moonfire, flame, and every other discipline Luke knew of fled his fingertips, left them charred and sore. His head pounded, his gaze was darkening, but the krykna turned to him moments before it died, and stared.

And Luke, seeing himself reflected in eight, deep eyes, thought there might've been gratitude there.

Then the creature crumbled into ashes and dust.

Luke's knees buckled.

Leia was there. Leia caught him by the elbow—the good elbow—before he went down, both of them breathing heavily. She was staring at the pile of ashes that was even now sifted across the forest floor, vanishing into the leaves, and let out an incredulous laugh. "You're amazing."

Luke had no patience left. "And you're a blood mage. Fat lot of use that was."

"I just haven't had much train—" Leia tried to say, whiny as it sounded, but when Luke flinched because she jostled his broken arm, she cut herself off. Guilt etched itself into every line of her face.

"All those extra hours you were working," Luke muttered.

"I was training."

"I figured." He scoffed, but it came out more like a sigh. "As much use as that was. Just pain."

"I suppose you're right," Leia said. "It's just pain."

Luke nodded. "Glad we agree." Then he stood up straight himself, and shook off Leia's arm. "Now let's go save Vader."

She scowled immediately. "Whether or not blood magic is good, Palpatine is, and Vader—"

"Is our father."

She blinked. "...what."

"I figured it out after he saw you—and the way he talked about our mother," Luke grunted. "He's our father, and he thought we'd be better off growing up without him, before he learned that our mother had died. I'm sure of it."

"It... makes some sense," she admitted. "But Palpatine—"

"Is full of shit."

She sighed.

"If you don't believe me," Luke said, beginning the long trek towards the tower. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, by now; he knew where to go. "Come talk to him yourself."

Leia sighed again.

"Alright, then," she said. "Let's go save our father."

It was carnage.

The tower had been further obliterated, brick by brick. The place was spattered with blood—gold blood, dragon blood, Luke realised—and that was all he could see from a distance, shrouded by trees. When he approached...

"Pathetic," said a familiar voice. Luke felt a snarl twist his lips at Palpatine's... mocking tone, his disdain. "How pathetic."

Leia flinched when she heard it too. Luke wondered if she'd ever actually seen the dark side of her precious mentor. Probably not.

For a moment, he felt bad for shouting at her.

Then his broken arm twinged again—it had faded into a sort of constant pain—and the feeling passed.

The tower had a gaping hole blasted into the side of it and they approached from there, sunlight streaming in. Luke, despite his urgency and his hurry and his panic, took a moment to stare around, at the stairs that no longer even stood, at all that blood, and then...

There they were.

Palpatine was still wearing that ridiculous jacket, a purple so dark it was like staring into the void, and now its gold cuffs and edges were offset by the gold blood that stained the fabric. He seemed to relish it; he kept stepping closer, and closer, to the cave Vader always slept in, and Vader—

Vader was curled up in it, edging away. One of his eyes—his beautiful, starry eyes—had been ripped right through by one of Palpatine's strokes, the socket flooded with golden blood so he couldn't see much of the damage, and the rest of him was littered with cuts and festering wounds like that. Like cracks in a black crystal chandelier.

He snorted, huffed steam, and blew a hot jet of fire straight at Palpatine but the man just laughed as he batted it away. Luke wondered for a moment why he didn't just swat the man, he was a fly, but one look at the mangled state of Vader's feet...

Luke saw red.

He ran, towards the dragon and screamed—in anger and in pain—and jettisoned a stream of blue-white fire right at Palpatine. The man started, jerked to the side and shouted as Luke burnt the horrible sleeve off his horrible jacket and his horrible arm, the skin going a horrible red underneath. He turned and slashed his hand in an almost lazy motion; Luke grunted as a shallow seam split him open from rib to hip and hot blood stained his nice white shirt—he'd been wanting to make a good impression on Dooku's men when he arrived—but kept his feet there. Planted in the ground.

Between Palpatine and his father.

"Luke..." Leia said, eyes wide.

Palpatine smiled sweetly upon seeing him, and it was jarring, seeing the face of the good-natured man he'd known for so long act like such a— a monster.

"Luke," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be at the bus stop? You'll miss the bus to Coruscant."

"I have missed the bus to Coruscant," Luke growled.

"And what happened to your arm? Are you hurt?"

Leia flinched. Luke just said, "Get away from my father."

Vader blinked with his one good eye. Luke...

"I'm not an idiot. I know the truth. Get away from him."

Palpatine blinked. "Your father? Oh, Luke, your father died years ago. This"—he slashed his hand towards Vader but Luke sent a spurt of flame and broke his concentration, damn near taking his hand off while he was at it. Palpatine narrowed his eyes—"is but a shell. It's lived a monster's life for fifteen years. Why don't we just put it out of its misery and I can teach you whatever you need to know—Leia can attest to my teaching abilities—"

Another flash of blue and white.

Palpatine howled.

Half the skin on his face was scorched and peeling, red, and his vicious gaze—yellow? Had he changed his eye colour to blue when disguising himself?—glared out at him.

"Or if you want to die with a monster..." he got out through gritted teeth.

Luke hissed, "You are a monster."

Palpatine shrugged, and raised his hands.

"Don't." Leia ran forwards and grabbed Luke's arm. "Please, sir, don't kill—"

"Leia," Palpatine sighed. "I told you to keep your brother away, or he would be caught in the crossfire."

"I tried," she snapped. "I—"

She glanced at Luke's arm, and her face hardened.

"I did exactly what you told me to do," she spat. "And I hate you."

Palpatine's gaze flicked between them and Vader, a smile back on his face.

"At least it'll be a neat, complete job then," he said. "A shame, since Skywalkers have always been such a powerful bloodline, but there are other powerful apprentices and you have always been a thorn in my side—"

His gaze flicked to Vader and he broke himself off.

"My my," he said, amused. "Are you going to try again?"

Vader dragged himself onto ruined feet, weeping rivers and lake of golden blood across the ground, and spread his tattered wings. He looked massive... and Palpatine had never looked so powerful.

Luke stared with tears in his eyes, but he smiled.

HIs father was terrifying, and powerful, and he—

"Leia," he whispered, gripping her arm. "Get down."

And a millisecond after they hit the ground, rolled—great, now his nice white shirt was covered in blood and dust and dragon blood—the world exploded in light and fire.

Vader leapt onto the ruined stairs and blasted enough fire and heat and destruction to scour the world at the man who was the worst stain on it and Palpatine jerked, held up his hands to deflect it but it took effort. Luke and Leia crawled behind a stone and clutched at each other, eyes scrunched shut.

Palpatine roared; Vader roared to match it, and the shudders shook the forest where it stood, scattered the krykna, uprooted the trees and terrorised the town with magic and curses and whispers of massacres—

Great wing beats funnelled fire and brimstone and Luke could feel the heat on his face, drying his tears in his eyes—

And then it stopped.

For a moment Luke thought he gone deaf. All he could hear was his pulse in his temple and his sister's terrified breaths.

He stayed there, still, for one second. Two seconds. Ten seconds.

But if his father was dead... he had to know.

So he crawled out from behind the stone, and...

Palpatine was kneeling on the floor.

Half-dead. He looked terrible. Aged and old, that coat flapping around him like his own ruined wings, all glamour and physical transformations burned away. His breathing was shallow, his gaze vicious but powerless. Beaten. He looked...

Pathetic.

Luke turned back to Vader. His father was looking at him, a million things in the tilt of his head, the squint of his eyes, and Luke smiled at him tentatively—

Then something crushed his throat and he was yanked into the air.

Luke choked, a belated scream escaping him as he shuddered and Leia scrambled to stare at him from behind the stone. His father was staring at him too, and Palpatine, who grinned as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed...

"You know, Anakin," Palpatine said conversationally. "Perhaps, all those years ago, I did it all wrong. Punishing you and your students for not accepting my wisest of teachings? That was rash of me. I apologise; I clearly wasn't thinking straight at all.

"Punishing you through the mass murder of so many mages? Giving up on you? I was a fool. You'd just married—to the very woman who I helped mentor!—and had two newborns. If I wanted coercion or punishment..."

A thin cut grew over Luke's right eye—not deep enough to take out the eye, but to scar the forehead and the cheekbone. Blood seeped in and turned his vision red.

"...I should have looked much, much closer to home—"

A bang.

A gasp.

A spurt.

Luke was dropped unceremoniously and grunted as he landed, but was already scrambling to his feet, Leia clutching at his shoulder, and—

And staring.

Palpatine was lying face first on the floor in a pool of blood.

And Captain Piett stood in the doorway, gun cocked and smoking.

He put it away a moment later; only then did he seem to see people staring.

"What?" he asked. "I saw the fire same as you, I came here, and I just witnessed him confess to orchestrating mass murder. My job is to defend the town against magical threats. It was the most prudent course of action."

Luke laughed.

It was like a spell was broken. Leia laughed as well, hysterical, a release of tension and terror and all sorts of things they could never express, and they crept forwards. Luke kicked Palpatine's dead body with his shoe—do not look at the hole in his head do not look at the hole in his head—and staggered back, Leia catching him.

He took a deep breath, then looked up at his father.

But Vader wasn't there.

There was no towering dragon there, gazing down at them with all the wisdom and grumpiness and crypticness only a dragon could summon, and now there was...

A man.

A tall man, but he looked pretty small compared to the dragon he had been, leaned heavily against the dusty wall, arms and legs littered with cuts. He seemed to be running his hand over them and healing them on instinct, and Luke watched with fascination as they turned to pink, then white scars, but when he turned his head from Palpatine's body to his children, Luke saw that the eye he'd lost was still lost, somewhere in the blood red mess that was half his face.

He said, "Luke? Leia?"

Leia stared, but Luke had no such qualms: he threw himself at his father and Anakin caught him, injured as he was, uncaring of the blood.

"What—" Anakin blinked. "What did happen to your arm?"

Luke just shook his head, but Leia shifted behind him.

Anakin's gaze moved to her. "Leia?"

She... approached more carefully than Luke had, staring up with an expressionless look on her face.

He seized her in a hug with no hesitation, and Luke laughed at her grunt.

"Luke. Leia." Anakin blinked his good eyes, and Luke saw tears. "Fuck, the last time I saw you... you were—"

"Babies," Leia supplied.

"Babies. You've grown so much, you—" He laughed, taking deep, heaving breaths. "You look so much like your mother."

Leia smiled.

"Yeah," she said. "I've been told that before."

"And you look freakishly like me," Anakin said to Luke. "I couldn't say that before, for... obvious reasons." Anakin grasped Luke's chin and inspected him from all angles. "Even your eye, now, we're gonna have matching scars." He ran his finger down Luke's cut and Luke yelped at the tingle the magic left. When he wiped the blood away, he found there was no cut left—just a slight scar, indeed.

Luke dropped his hand. "Will— will you keep the eye? Will it heal?"

"No." He didn't sound bothered about it at all, nor look it, from the way he was staring at them both, though Luke imagined it must hurt. "But it's fine." He lowered his voice. "I always thought I'd look good with an eye patch."

Luke laughed.

Leia burst into tears. "I—" She gasped, pulling away. "I can't— I shouldn't be here. I told him where you were, it's my fault—"

"And we forgive you, Leia," Anakin said.

Leia stared. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Leia looked at Luke. Luke stuck his tongue out at her.

She rolled her eyes and addressed their father. "Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are gonna be thrilled to have you back."

"I look forward to seeing them again. And also giving Owen a heart attack for the sixth time."

"Sixth? What were the other..."

And Piett, still standing in the doorway, smiled a little at the three of them chattering, before he turned away. There were people to protect, a forest to police; if the curse had broken with Palpatine's death who knew what effect that death would've have on the krykna...

"Captain Piett!"

Running feet behind him. He turned back to see Luke stop at his side, clutching his arm to his chest.

"You can come with us, right?" he said. "It's not right walking through the woods behind you."

And Piett smiled broadly at that, even laughed a little, even blinked back tears. But all he said was:

"Of course." He gestured with his hand. "Lead the way, then."