“This is not the best plan we’ve ever had!” Anakin shouted. “This was a plan?” Palpatine sounded appalled.

Grrrrrrrrr.

Time will be the ultimate teller... sooooon.

Maybe. . . Maybe not...

SHE took everything from him, on the cusp of eternal glory, the machinations of a generations work. Ashes. Bloodline, or not. Vengeance will turn it’s horned head.

Execute Order 247.

The Darkness will swallow the light—if not by his doing, but of another, and then back again. Time is of the /essence./

Vader (and the imperial officers) arguing with Sidious on the Death Star:

The sheer pull of resilient altruism nauseated him, the Skywalkers have had a tremendous amount of upheaval on his desires... no matter. How easily the seed of manipulation can be planted and guided.

To set anew, once more... the withered, amassed spectre of darkness limps with fragility. It would take t i m e, and /time/ he knew very well... an endless supply, a source, a reservoir of restoration; feeding, consuming, devouring. Until the schemes could be set in motion.

Once a shriek, now a whisper.

death lingers and it breathes him in, sprawling with living clay and ancient residue collected for acidic purpose, it kept him from freedom. ——-Freedom he didn’t know he could ever grasp again... it mortified his most dignified parts.

as much as this endless cycle was a spirit-eradicating ordeal, it didn’t wound the essence anymore—-only numbed it. for what seemed like eons, a source he could clamp on was present — soaking in the tiny matter it emitted — it would be a long time before he felt whole. . .

Still. No time for galactic games of chess just yet. No coup worth the conditions he practically wobbled in. He was a mass of torment, and reverberated fear. The Dark Lord would slowly, slowly turn the wheel of callous opportunity. Long-withstanding rancor.

exercise the shadows unfathomable doings. and be rewarded with unquestionable results.

generations in line. a fickle youth. eating away at his patience. tugging at his desperation. they will never get too close—never again.

Wail, if you must. Don’t bark.

Wasted potential.

Edge of Darkness by Ben J