Darth Caedus had not imagined death would feel quite like this. He had killed many, and seen many killed- countless Yuuzhan Vong sliced in twain, Onimi, who he had dissolved into his constituent particles. Nelani, speared by his lightsaber; Mara, as the toxin he had injected into her had destroyed her nervous system. Countless subordinates sentenced directly or indirectly to death. Geijen. Cal Omas. Chewie. His brother Anakin, his teachers Vergere and Lumiya. He had walked with death his whole life, watched it dealt and dealt it himself in equal measure. Somewhere on his long road, he had accepted death as a constant companion, accepted that it would claim him too. And as he had stopped being Jacen Solo and became Darth Caedus, he knew it would come for him in turn. Too, he thought death would have no surprises for one as close to it as he: A Sith hell, an eternal imitation of life as a Force shade, or merely fading back into the Force from whence he came. But even a Sith Lord can be surprised.