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Luke set the thermal detonator aside and aimed his longblaster at the lead figure, then peered through the sniperscope at the purple visage that probably belonged to Sarasu Taalon. He could not be certain because the slender face had grown gaunt and twisted, with brows that hooked sharply upward at the outer ends and cheekbones that protruded so prominently they looked like knuckles. The lips had grown bloated and cracked, and the mouth seemed twisted into a permanent grimace of pain.

But it was the eyes that troubled Luke most. They had turned as dark as wells, and shining up from the bottom were a pair of tiny light points, as bright and silver as stars.

Luke’s stomach grew cold and heavy. He pulled away from the sniperscope and gazed down at the two beings with his naked eye, trying to decide whether they might not be a Fallanassi illusion after all. Living beings simply did not change into other kinds of beings. True, there were any number of medical conditions that might cause someone’s bones to grow knobby, or his lips to swell. A wasting disease or prolonged bout of hunger might cause a face to grow gaunt and eyebrows to take a different shape. There were even conditions and parasites that could turn hair into something that looked more like worms.

But those eyes … eyes simply did not turn into pinpoints of silver light.

Luke peered into the sniperscope again and found himself looking into a slightly less grotesque version of the face he had glimpsed a moment before. The cheeks were no longer quite so knobby, the lips merely swollen and cracked. And the eyes, he saw now, had merely changed color. The irises and sclera had turned as black as the pupils, creating the appearance of emptiness where there was simply darkness.

But the silver pinpoints remained.

Had they flickered or shifted as Taalon moved his head, they might have been no more than reflections of the Pydyrian sun. But they remained steady, shining out from the darkness of the High Lord’s soul, and Luke knew why the Force was so full of portent that morning, why he could feel the Balance shifting toward shadow.

Taalon had been in the Pool of Knowledge, and that changed everything.

As Luke was contemplating this, Taalon reached the bottom of the ramp and stopped. He stared out to sea for a long time, and Luke began to worry that the Sith was actually seeing the white cliffs of the distant temple island—that despite the hazard suits the High Lord and his followers were wearing, Taalon had somehow learned the secret of seeing through Fallanassi illusions. Finally, the Sith turned back to the beach and studied the sand, either gathering his courage or biting back his pain. Then, after a moment, he raised his head and looked directly into the sniper scope.

Come now, Master Skywalker. Taalon’s voice reached Luke more inside his mind than in his ears—a simple enough Force trick, but nonetheless one that sent a chill down Luke’s back. There will be time enough for that after we talk.

Luke replied in a normal speaking voice. “You expect me to come down?”

Well, you haven’t blasted me yet, Taalon countered.

Luke pressed the trigger and held it down—then felt his jaw drop as bolts began to ricochet off the High Lord’s palm. It wasn’t the deflection of blasterfire with a bare hand that shocked him—he had fought plenty of Sith capable of that trick. What amazed Luke was the speed with which Taalon had moved. In the nanosecond it had taken the first bolt to cross the distance between them, the High Lord’s hand had risen to deflect it, traveling so fast that the appendage had literally seemed to disappear from one place and reappear in another.

After tolerating the volley for a couple of seconds, Taalon grew weary of defending himself and crooked a finger. Luke tightened his grasp on the longblaster, expecting to feel it being ripped from his hands through the Force. Instead he found himself sliding out of his hiding place and tumbling through the air as he dropped toward the beach.

Luke tossed the longblaster aside and snatched his lightsaber,