The Hands of Fate

Whispers of Corruption

The Dark Side.

Yoda warned of its terror back on Dagobah. "Is this dark side stronger," Luke asked to his diminutive master, not fully understanding the topic. The green creature was quick to correct him, sharply declaring that it was not more powerful, only more seductive, instant. The young Jedi thought of it in simple terms, such as his blue lightsaber and the red lightsaber of his opponent. Scarlett red dazzles and enchants the mind, taking hostage of it almost immediately. One must take a longer look to notice the sleek and charming contrast of the cyan haze against it to truly grasp the beauty within.

There were also rumors that floated across the universe, some of which Luke had read in his meager knowledge of books and libraries (so little existed to begin with). A small subset spoke of it as another natural manifestation of the living Force, just unused thanks to the taboo and tradition of the Jedi Order. There was instant gratification and power that came along with that – instant adrenaline that would channel one's desires.

Luke Skywalker felt it that day, swarming around the innards of his brain, stabbing itself into the nerves and releasing a pleasurable euphoria that ate away at the soul, bit by bit, as his father became one with him through the Force. Those senses were stronger when one was in tune with it and stopped fighting it – every little scent became twice as odious, the sweetest taste turned to a sickly poison, transforming the willing owner into the slave of the substance. It was the work of corruption at it's finest, the urge for power lusting and leading the individual toward the most damning methods of release.

That was the first time the youth had tasted that kind of power. It was enthralling and triggered a form of ecstasy around the body; the veins under his skin were almost stabbing out, his pulse pounding hard against his heart. The Jedi wondered in his time afterword if this was what initially lured his father to the Dark Side of the Force. As sadistic and outwardly villainous as Vader appeared, Luke sensed that there was something greater that channeled and directed his rage. For him, there had to be something more than just pure evil – something drew him to this moment; to this great menace of society. Something that, Luke sensed, to be equally as selfish as it were selfless. Something about the way his father reacted to him sparked that thought. Luke couldn't help but wonder if his father, Darth Vader, truly cared for his son's wellbeing underneath the plating and cybernetic armor. Still, that did not change that the man was perverted and corrupted, drawn to darkness by straying from the light.

While he understood the appeal of the Dark Side, he couldn't see a universe without the goodness of the Force. The light, as Vader mentioned it, was the binding will of all living things. He would argue that it wasn't, in fact, light but the purest concentration of an omniscient Force that penetrated all organic and inorganic life. This was the Force. That was not something the youth could hate – only one that had suffered so deeply, someone who had been utterly broken, could see a thing as beautiful and angelic as that as a sick source of divine authority.

Order was necessary for Luke Skywalker. True, he often strayed and was quick to act on his impulses, but at the end of the day, there was always a structure and order that the boy longed for. He found it within the Rebel Alliance – with his friends. Though he didn't dare admit it, he also started to think he was finding it here, on this space station, with his father.

As he reflected on these thoughts, Luke laid still in his chambers of this strange fortress that Vader had stowed him away on, isolated from the rest of the galaxy, suspended out beyond the sense of his own meager powers. There was a bizarre sense of safety he felt every night as he enveloped his legs and twisted his body around the warm blanket, huddling underneath, thinking of the week he had endured thus far. This little room had become his sanctuary from the forced lessons he'd attend with his father.