He stood there with his back to her, a monk of the old Order, staring out into the sea. But he knew she was there and he knew why she had come. The past was repeating itself. It had caught up to him and wrapped him up in its sticky web. With a heavy heart, he turned to face her and lowered his hood. One hand of flesh and blood, one of servos and chrome.
It was him. She was sure of it. She needed no holos to confirm his identity.The Force screamed at her in its omnipresent whisper: Luke Skywalker.
She quickly dug into her satchel and pulled out the thing that belonged to him — and his father before him — and held it out in offering. He stayed where he was, his expression darkening. He moved…
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