Author's Note: I do not own any characters or any part of Star Wars. Also, for this story assume that Luke at this point is around 40-45 years old. I know that he is supposed to be older, but I felt that for this story, a younger age would fit better. Also, for Luke's abilities, I am going off the Legends' descriptions as The Last Jedi has not come out yet and we have not seen this new version of Luke in action. I hope these adjustments not bother you too much. Enjoy! :)


Darth Vader stared out the window of his flagship, the Executor, as the Millennium Falcon blasted out of his grasp into hyperspace. He didn't move. He didn't blink. He wouldn't have breathed if it wasn't for his cursed respirator. He was in shock. His son. His own son had been within his grasp twice today, and both times he had barely escaped out of dumb luck. He knew the teachings that the teachings of the Jedi didn't believe in luck, but it was either that, or the force truly hated him. Thinking on it again, it was probably the latter. And he deserved it. He knew that for sure. Not only had he almost killed Luke when Padme was still pregnant, but he had just cut off his own son's hand and forced him to jump to a near-certain death just to escape his capture. What kind of father was he? Definitely not one who deserved a son as brave, kind, and skillful as his own. He knew this, yet he didn't care. Luke would soon be his. They would overthrow Sidious and they would rule as they were destined to. Obi-Wan wouldn't rob him of anything else, ever again. Out of nowhere, a great disturbance appeared in the Force. He detected the presence of his son immediately. He had only a few minutes to feel and analyze it on Bespin, but he put it to memory so strongly, he doubted that he would ever forget it. Not even in death. His knees almost buckled under the sheer power of the untamed Force and he fought to maintain consciousness. His last thought before the energy overtook his mind was promising that he would kill any crewman close enough to witness this temporary display of weakness.


Jedi Master Luke Skywalker sat atop the peak of a mountain on Ahch-To, a mostly ocean covered world. Here lie the first Jedi temple known to history. He had come to find it a place of peaceful solace. Even now, after so long, he was still haunted by the images of the burning temple and the cries of pain and death through the force. His soul was beginning to heal, but the memories remained. He longed so desperately to seek out the comfort of his sister, Leia, and his closest friend, Han, but he knew that the time wasn't right. The force told him as much. It told him to wait. Someone was coming to him. Perhaps in a few weeks or maybe in a few years, but he knew that someone would look for him, yet who that person would be, he had no clue. Though an even closer event he could feel approaching. A strong disturbance in the Force to a degree that he had never felt before. Not even at the temple massacre. He braced himself, for he knew that when it hit him, it wouldn't be pleasant. Suddenly, right before, he sensed a presence, one that he hadn't felt alive for nearly twenty years. His father. Though how? His last thought before blacking out was questioning if he had simply gone insane in his exile.