"Now, young Skywalker...you will die."
Luke Skywalker lay prostrate and defenseless on the cold metallic floor of the second Death Star's throne room, bathed in a haze of agony and torment. Electrical arcs visibly coursed through his body as the dark energies Emperor Palpatine had inflicted upon him continued their malevolent work. His breath came and went in ragged gasps as his spasming lungs desperately fought for air. The Emperor's attacks had ceased for the moment. What the uninitiated might have interpreted as a moment of mercy was in fact a cruelly calculated move on Palpatine's part, a moment for his victim to comprehend the full weight of his failure and folly in challenging the dark side of the Force. Did this impudent child who proclaimed himself a Jedi (a Jedi!) really think he could defy the might of the Emperor, undisputed ruler of the galaxy and the greatest Sith Master in millennia? Skywalker would die, that much was certain, but Palpa