Darth Vader lowered his sword and prodded Kenobi’s empty robe with his boot in growing frustration — the old man’s magic had been strong, yes, but this?

He ignored the three brash young heroes galloping away on their horses; he would track them through the debris of Castle Alderaan by the scent of their desperation, if not the young one’s magic, already tainted by Kenobi.

Overhead, the Death Star hovered: a writhing ball of gas and flame clenched by the fist of Vader’s magic, waiting only for his command and a direction to strike.