Prelude
Seaspray and wind buffet the man as he sits silently atop a rock. He sits cross legged and breathes in rhythm to the ocean's endless assault and retreat.
The lines on his face wrinkle as he breathes in. Too many lines for a man of his age. The marks of a man who has seen and been through too much in too short a time.
He breathes out, more of an explosive sigh than a outtake of breath.
"It's over." The man rasps as he lowers his head. "The Force is dead."
A small translucent green figure lined in a blue mist coalesces suddenly in front of the man. "Hmm, dead say you?"
The man looks up, eyes wide. "Impossible...Master Yoda?"
Yoda lets out a nasally chuckle and nods his head. "Dead the Force is not. Wait it does, yes. Patient is the way of the Force." Yoda takes step towards the man and pokes him in the chest with his walking stick. "A virtue you have yet to learn young Skywalker.