
From page one, as Jacen Solo examines the spectrum of pain that surrounds him:
In the far infrared, he finds cinders of thirst that bake his throat. Higher, up in the visible wavelengths, gleam the crimson wire-stretched ligaments that sizzle within his shoulders; grinding glass-shard screams howl from his hip joints like the death shrieks of golden Ithorian starflowers. There is green here, too -- bubbling tongues of acid hungrily lick his nerves -- as well as lightning-blue shocks that spasm his overloaded body into convulsion.
Such exquisite detail and precision word choices amplify the meticulous nature of the Yuuzhan Vong process. Stover crafts this horrific scenario with such skill that we can believe it's really happening.


















