Head in his hands, Darth Vader sat, his knees drawn up against his chest. Although his mask hid any emotion felt by the Sith lord, without it, his pain was on full display. Tears streaked down his scarred, burnt face, he was haunted by the memories of his former life.
Perhaps the most haunting, bittersweet memory of all was of his late wife. Padmé. His memories of her flooded into the forefront of his mind, causing him to let out a bloodcurdling scream as he felt the worst kind of pain: heartbreak. She had saved him and he had destroyed her.
Mustafar. The place he hated most of all. He remembered the hatred he had felt. And he remembered the fatal force choke he had used on Padmé, symbolizing the death of Anakin and the true birth of Darth Vader.
He hated his former master, the planet of his own demise and he hated everything that felt love. But most of all, he hated himself. He was a monster, not the precocious, young jedi he had been a long time ago. He had lost the very thing he had fought to save.
He was awoken by his thoughts by a deep, sinister voice. "I can help you bring her back." He looked up and saw the shimmering, cloaked figure of the late Sith lord, Darth Mormon. He bowed his head to the ghost. "What must I do?"
