Later, alone in his bedchamber, Luke Skywalker (for he had refused to change his name) would scroll through that moment cemented in his memory and he would wonder why he did it.

Perhaps it was because he was wearing a mask--the skeletal frame with black eyes--and didn't seem human at all; just a symbol for Luke to channel his anger. So he channeled it, in those dark moments in the chamber, but instead of dissipating the hatred seared until his thoughts were so blurred that the final strike seemed to come on its own, forced down upon his father by something very dark--a coldness that crept up his arm and curled around his heart: the dark side.

And while his whole life he dreamed of victory, he stood before his father's body as the Emperor's laughter grew and waited, waited for the triumph to touch him--but it didn't; only a deep sadness. He'd felt his father's death--a ripple in the force, neither evil nor good--just an emptiness where something alive had been before. The last Jedi knelt by Anakin's side and yanked off his mask--jerkily, angrily--and the helmet cluttered beside him before lolling back and forth as if it were in pain. His father's face was very scarred and pale, but it held so much more humanity than the costume that Luke felt a swell of compassion and sadness and thought, "I could have saved him." He'd be thinking that all of his life.

The Emperor had stopped laughing. The mask stilled facing Luke, and he remembered his visions on Degobah and shivered. The only sounds in the room were Skywalker's harsh breathing and the hum of a ship in battle.

"Good, Skywalker. Now come with me and complete your training."

"Ben," he whispered, but the room remained silent while the Emperor smiled.

"You have learned to use your feelings to your advantage. The dark side will flow through you, as it did your father. You were meant for great things, Skywalker. It is your destiny."

Luke stood up and faced the Emperor, lightsaber drawn. "No."

"Your friends..." the emporer paused and looked out the window to the stars. "Have failed. The Millenium falcon has fallen, and our forces are closing in on Endor."

Skywalker tensed, and the anger flared again; his grip tightened on his weapon. "How do you know Han's been shot down?"

"I have foreseen it."

Luke closed his eyes and searched the force, though Vader's death reverberated strongly through it--a great loss--and above the hum of the universe and the billions of life forms crying out, he heard her screaming. 'Sister...' And Han... His eyes flew open in alarm. Han was dead.

"So you feel it. Soon the rest of the rebellion will soon join him."

A cold silence followed. Luke's eyes trailed past the window to the outlines of ships spinning above blackness. Every few seconds one would burst into flame, and it looked like the stars themselves were dying. "I'm leaving now," he said, too in shock to analyze the fact that he was conversing with the emporer. "If you won't permit me to go I'll strike you down."

"You wouldn't kill me regardless?"

Very aware of the body at his feet, Luke swallowed and shut his eyes. "I have to find Leia. Soon. I have to go." And then he put away his weapon and turned his back on the most powerful man in the galaxy, his father's corpse cooling on the floor."I have to leave." His heart was racing very, very fast, his pulse jerking through his limbs like a hot thread beneath his skin.

"If you stay," the Emperor called out, "I will stop the attack on Endor and spare Leia's life. She lives, still."

Luke stood frozen, feet away from the doorway. If Ben had spoken perhaps he wouldn't have fallen (so many what-ifs), but he felt so lost at that moment that such a deal was the only thing he could do. For Leia, he turned around and faced the Sith--For her, he knelt down, knees on the cold floor, and touched the hem of his robe. For them, he held back tears when the Emperor touched his head and said, "Congratulations. My new apprentice."

And in that moment, the rebellion was defeated.