[Incensed, he strides closer towards Anakin-- towards the heated edge of the saber he extends as an entirely believable threat. The repetition is barbed, it borders on demanding:] Search me.

[Because even from the moment that he plunged his blade through Han Solo's heart, the light did not leave him. If it did, he'd have felt nothing in the wake of his father's grip, soft and slipping and gone in a single breath; if it did, he'd feel nothing now, each time the echo of it threatens to surface. In truth, he was not empowered by the completion of his task, only by the revelation left behind.

Snoke would have been proud.

But there is light in him. Just as there is darkness in Anakin himself - threatening too easily to boil over.] I speak the truth.

[How long must it have taken Vader to understand what the galaxy required, he wonders.] The light alone is toothless. As fragile as those that are slaves to it, incapable of true action.

Surely you must have sensed it by now.