NOTE: Sorry, this is a short update. I'll be quicker with Chapter 4, which is Anakin and Luke having a heart-to-heart.

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Lightsabers clashed and sizzled. They were fairly equally matched for awhile, but Luke had the twin advantages of stamina and determination. Finally he hooked Laark's blade and sent it flying. It extinguished itself and landed in the middle of a flowering rateira bush.

"Damn!" Laark rubbed his forearm. "This isn't fair! I've been practicing my whole life and you just started a couple years ago! How did you get so good?"

"Necessity," Luke said grimly, thinking of his incompetence when he'd confronted Vader on Bespin.

"Good thing he didn't kill you."

"Laark!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Must you read my mind all the time?"

"I don't, Lord," the other man protested. "I can only do it when your feelings are strong or close to the surface. And if you don't block me."

When his feelings were strong. Wasn't that what his father had said? Perhaps his thoughts could only be sensed when he projected them. "Why can't I read your mind?"

Laark bent over the rateira, fumbling with one arm thrust into the bush. "Can't quite reach— I don't know. Skywalkers can't, that's all. Skywalkers can be telepathic or do what you do, reaching into people's thoughts, but they can't read minds. Most Lightshiners can't do it either. My father says I'm special."

Not mind-read? That wasn't quite true, he realized, guarding the thought as he did. He and his father read each other's minds… didn't they? Or were they only talking to each other?

"Speaking of fathers, I wish you would try to get along better with mine."

Laark grunted. "He's jealous of me." He almost fell into the bush. "Damn!"

He watched Laark struggle for another moment, then used the Force to raise the missing lightsaber out of the bush to a point in the air that was just out of Laark's reach."Very funny!" Laark glared at him. "Do you mind?" he asked pointedly, holding out his right hand and tapping his foot impatiently. Luke let the saber hover for a moment before dropping it. Laark caught it easily.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Luke laughed.

"Big bully," Laark added, encouraged by his appreciation. "You enjoy torturing me, don't you?"

"As if I'm the only torturer," he scoffed. "You're totally sadistic."

"Hah! This is sadism!" Laark brandished his blade and slashed the air, dancing through the garden. "Take that! And that!"

Luke followed him, laughing at his Lightshiner's antics. It felt so good to play. No somber reflections, no agonizing over his destiny. Nothing but fun. "Hey," he called. "Want to see another trick?"

"Sure." Laark hooked his saber to his belt and folded his arms. "It had better be good."

"It will be," he promised. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Sith? I'm showing off. How about bringing the bird back for a few minutes? Please?

Almost immediately there was a sweet singing from the rateira bush. They both turned at the sound, and Luke held out his hand. A tiny golden bird flew to him and perched on his fingers. Its beak brushed his thumb curiously.

Laark stepped back a few paces, fumbling for his lightsaber. "What is it, Lord?" he asked, aghast.

"It's a bird," Luke said, studying it closely. It allowed him to run his finger down its back. Its feathers were pleasant to the touch, soft and fragile. He lifted his hand higher and studied every angle. It was compact and very beautiful. Maybe he could design a ship like this. Maybe his father would consent to help.

"Eew, how can you touch it? It might bite you." Laark approached cautiously. "Is it real?"

Good question. "As real as anything, I guess." Hadn't his father said that to him once? Now he finally understood what it meant. This bird was as real as Sith and as real as any of them. "Hi, bird."

It chirped in response, cocking its little head to one side and studying him. He laughed delightedly and tried to replicate the sound. He must not have succeeded because it squawked at him and fluttered its wings.

"Can I touch it?" Laark asked.

"I guess."

But the bird flew off when Laark's fingers neared it. It went to a branch of the nearby ebonwood tree where it sang for a few minutes while they watched. Then both the song and the bird vanished.

Laark shivered. "I don't like that."

"The bird?" he asked in surprise.

"No. When things appear...and disappear. Especially a thing I've never seen before." He studied Luke carefully. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't. Sith did," he answered truthfully, despite a mischievous desire to make Laark think he was a conjuring sorcerer.

"Why?" There was a demanding tone to Lightshiner's voice; all the earlier levity had gone.

Luke looked at his companion, puzzled. "I asked Sith to bring it back. So I could show off to you."

"What do you mean, bring it back?"

Laark was really upset, Luke realized uneasily. "What's wrong? It was just a bird."

"What do you mean, bring it back?" the Lightshiner repeated stubbornly.

He shrugged. "I asked Sith for a bird the other day— you know, when I disappeared. And rain. And It made rain and a bird for me. We were playing."

"Playing with Sith?" Laark's voice trembled. "I don't like this."

"Hey." He put his arm around the youngster's shoulder. "It's all right. What are you afraid of?"

Laark was shaking. "It likes you, Sith likes you. What if It will do anything you ask? What if- what if you ask It to do something terrible?"

"Like what?" He was bewildered by the intensity he felt through their link.

"Anything." Laark jerked free and backed away from him. "You could… turn all of Sith into a desert. Or kill everyone. Or change us into birds… or something worse."

"I wouldn't do that, Laark." He tried to approach his friend, but the other gestured him away.

"You might if you got mad. There's a legend… a legend that a Skywalker got mad once, a long time ago, and that brought on the Darkness and nothing was the same again. Everybody in the galaxy hated Siths, and we had to stay here, and Sith had to protect us, and we've been here ever since. That's why we change and die when we go Outside." Laark clutched his arms around himself. "Are you going to make things worse, Lord?"

It seemed the more he learned, the deeper it piled up around him. Luke leaned against a tree. How could he take any action when the game kept changing? Was his father not responsible for releasing Darkness? Had a Skywalker done it generations ago, or was that a legend based on fear and superstition? And what was his role to be? He'd thought of himself as Sith's savior, but what if Laark's fears were correct, what if he did indeed make matters worse? It was so difficult to interpret the things Sith had tried to tell him and to act accordingly.

"I hope to make everything better, Laark," he said finally. If he kept his mind focused on one goal, perhaps it would improve his chances of success. "I hope to put the Darkness back where it belongs."

"Where's that?" Laark whispered.

"I'm not certain," he admitted. "But you're going to help me do it. Soon."

Lightshiner turned away for a moment, then returned to his side. "Shit," he said succinctly.

"My feelings exactly." Luke grinned.

Laark responded with a half-smile. "Okay, I'll help, but don't screw up."

"I'll try not to." He felt a great fondness for his Lightshiner. "I love you," he said, finding that, once said, the words were easily repeated.

"I love you, too, Lord." Laark hugged him. "And I promise to take care of you always, no matter what condition you're in."

"Thanks, I think," he replied hesitantly. "What do you mean, 'condition'?"

"Whatever!" Laark said blithely, and took advantage of Luke's moment of distraction to send his lightsaber flying.