The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins-but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars.

Somewhere down there was all the power he would ever need. So no, it wasn't that he wanted to go. It was more, inexplicably, that he wanted Obi-Wan to stay. There was a cold void in his chest that he was afraid would soon fill with regret, and grief.

The Force flows over him and around him as though he has stepped into a crystal-pure waterfall lost in the green coils of a forgotten rain forest; when he opens himself to that sparkling stream it flows into him and through him and out again without the slightest interference from his conscious will. The part of him that calls itself Obi-Wan Kenobi is no more than a ripple, an eddy in the pool into which he endlessly pours.

There was a thermonuclear furnace where his heart should be, and it was burning through the firewalls of his Jedi training. He held the Force in the clench of a white-hot fist. He was half Sith already, and he didn't even know it.

"Everything dies. In time, even stars burn out. This is why Jedi form no attachments: all things pass. To hold on to something-or someone-beyond its time is to set your selfish desires against the Force. That is a path of misery, Anakin; the Jedi do not walk it."

It is a story of love and loss, brotherhood and betrayal, courage and sacrifice and the death of dreams. It is a story of the blurred line between our best and our worst.