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A hundred-voiced wail erupted from Abeloth’s mouth, shrill and loud and inhuman. Plumes of greasy smoke shot from her back, and the smell of charred flesh grew sickening in the air. The heat of the magma burned through Abeloth’s body to sear him, and he heard organs sizzling inside her chest. Any normal being would have been dead by now. But Abeloth seemed to live in the Force as much as she did in a physical body, and now she was using the Force to animate a body that should have been in its death throes.

Finally, the pressure on Luke’s throat eased—not much, but enough to draw breath. It made him hope he might survive … at least fight a few moments more. He continued to reach with the Force, now going higher toward the ceiling vault, and caught hold of one of the long crossbeams that held the roof in place.

Luke pulled, trying to open a little space so he could gain his feet and fight, and they both began to rise.

Abeloth pulled in the opposite direction, and they dropped back to the floor. Luke opened himself more fully to the Force, using his love for Ben and his lost wife and the entire Jedi Order to draw it into him. The foul miasma of dark side energy, still swirling into Abeloth, seeped into him, filling him with greasy nausea. But the light side rushed in, flowing in from all sides, pouring through him like fire. A golden glow began to rise from his skin—cells literally bursting with the power of the Force—and Luke felt them both start upward again. Abeloth countered, hissing in anger, and they hovered a hand span above the floor.

A tremendous crack echoed down from the vaulted ceiling. They dropped again, hitting so hard that Luke’s breath left in a groan. Abeloth slammed down atop him, her single leg still wrapped around his, the stump of her arm driving harder into his throat. Something crunched in his larynx. His breath came in shallow, wheezy gasps, and the crushing hand of panic began to clench at his heart.

Then a two-meter length of beam came plummeting out of the darkness and caught Abeloth across the back. The impact compressed his chest until he thought it would split. Then her leg went slack, her stump slipped from Luke’s throat, and she fell motionless, her face pressed against his, cheek-to-cheek.

Luke planted his feet flat on the floor and bridged, trying to throw her off. The effort rolled waves of agony up his rib cage, and Abeloth’s leg and hips slid to one side, limp and loose. But the rest of her remained on top of him, pinned in place by the heavy beam. Guessing that her spine had been crushed, he pressed his lightsaber’s blade emitter against her flank. Akanah’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Luke, forgive me,” she whispered. “I didn’t … I didn’t understand.”

A shudder raced through her body, then her head rose, and in the depths of her eyes shone a pair of tiny silver specks. Her hair assumed a golden cast and tented around Luke’s face, forming a private world where there was only them, and her lips broadened into a full-lipped mouth so large it stretched ear-to-ear.

The mouth opened, revealing a row of slender fangs, and started to descend toward his throat. Luke thumbed his lightsaber switch and dragged the hissing blade up the length of her body. She gave a long gasp of anguish, then the silver light faded from her eyes, and her head cracked down on the stone next to his.

A pang of sorrow shot through Luke. Abeloth had taken over Akanah’s body, but Akanah had fought through with those final words to ease his conscience. He knew that he still didn’t fully understand Abeloth’s power, but he was too frightened for his son to spend time thinking about it now. Ben was still locked in battle against Taalon and Vestara, and judging by the fear radiating from his son’s Force aura, the fight was going badly. Luke used the Force to push aside the heavy beam, then tried to spring up … and nearly collapsed as his injuries blossomed into crippling pain. The act of breathing was like choking on a rock, his knee felt catchy and swollen, and there was a crushing in his chest that made him wonder