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“There is more to avoid here than you know. A great power, indeed. Beyond these mountains dwells—”
“This place. I tried to tell you. It is near the lair of a powerful shaman.”
Obi-Wan.
A’Yark stared at him—and knelt. “The settlers call him Ben.”
“All that live on the wastes I have seen,” A’Yark said, “and I first saw Ben before your birth. He is an outlander, a wizard.
Time is a circle. The beginning is the end.
Every person Obi-Wan ever truly loved—Anakin, Satine, Padmé, and Qui-Gon himself—came to a terrible end.
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The mountains rose up, folding toward them, swallowing them whole. She felt her husband’s warmth, his breath on her neck, then the scent of ash and smoke, and in the next moment, oblivion.
“You’re all clear, kid, now let’s blow this thing and go home!” the voice said.
Lando Calrissian loved heroes. They thought the galaxy owed them something. Like they mattered, somehow, in some bizarre way that meant the fundamental rules of reality were tilted in their favor.
And then Lando knew it was real, because another ship had appeared on the screen. A very, very familiar ship. A Corellian YT-1300 light freighter, old, sure, maybe a little banged up here and there, but…still beautiful. She was still beautiful. “That’s…that’s my ship,” he said, rising out of his seat a bit. “That’s the Millennium Falcon.”
No one flew the Falcon as well as Lando Calrissian—but one man came as close as anyone could. “Han Solo is flying that ship,” he said.
