Chapter 2

PEACE.... there will never be peace between Narn and Centauri. Not until both peoples are ground into dust and remade anew, and even then both races would still hate each other.
Those words, spoken less than two years ago by Lady Morella, widow, Empress and prophetess, are being borne out by the sights in the skies of Quadrant 37. The location of a Narn colony and military base for so long, it has recently been taken by the Centauri. Now, the Narn have come to reclaim it.
The skies rain fire, the Centauri scatter, their leaders desperately seeking order, seeking something to reclaim from this disaster.
See.... Lord-General Marrago, trying to organise a counterattack, knowing that he has lost one capital ship already, and the one that remains is sore-pressed.
See.... Warleader G'Sten, leading on the advance, seeking revenge and retribution and an end to the dreams which keep him awake in the night.
See.... Londo Mollari, running through the corridors of the colony, desperately seeking a way out of this place, knowing that the last hope of salvation for his people may be at an end if he dies here.
See.... Shaal Lennier, fleeing alongside Londo, motivated by personal demons both real and imagined, fighting because he does not know how to surrender.
Mix them up, and let chaos reign.
It is coming to the galaxy sooner than anyone thinks....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Let chaos reign....
One person in particular disagreement with that philosophy was standing in a darkened warehouse, listening to reports on highly classified information; listening, smiling and waiting.
Bester was set in firm opposition to chaos. He wanted order, discipline, stability.... with himself and his people on the top. A simple, logical set of desires, and one which was being put in jeopardy by the actions of various powers around the galaxy. Not being able to deal with them all at once, he was settling for dealing with the problem at hand, so to speak: the Resistance Government of Proxima 3, their alliance with the mysterious race known as the Shadows, and their current furious onslaught on the Minbari.
Not that Bester had any sympathy for the Minbari, of course. Quite the opposite, but chaos was chaos whomever it was directed against, and there was nothing more chaotic than a war.
Former General Laurel Takashima finished her report and stood silently to attention, as rigid as any statue, her secondary Control personality taking over temporarily. A legacy of an older time, that, but one Bester was finding incredibly useful.
She had done well, although her 'sleeper' personality would not let her do anything other than what she was ordered to do. Programmed for obedience, duty and complete loyalty to Psi Corps, Takashima's secondary personality was the perfect agent for Bester's interests.
And she had done exceptionally well. Her desperate activities during the Second Line notwithstanding - now that had been a chaotic affair! - she had accomplished most of her orders. The careful seeding of agents throughout the new fleet, including one on the bridge of the Babylon itself; the hiding of these agents from any official investigations; gaining the trust and companionship of former Ambassador Ivanova, and some very useful information along with it.... Oh yes, General Takashima had done very well.
"I have another mission for you," Bester said. This was risky, coming here in person, but necessary. He and G'Kar had worked out what needed to be done to end this war, and Bester's part of it involved Takashima directly. To ensure success, he needed to be here in person - to liaise with other agents, to draw off suspicion, to gather information.... This would be a complicated undertaking, but if it worked....
She was silent and still, perfectly rigid, waiting for his next order. The perfect agent, one who did not even know in her conscious mind whom she worked for, or even that she was working for anyone.
"I am projecting the details of this operation directly into your mind. You will not even know the specifics yourself, but you will act as directed. When the time is right and all the pieces are in place, then you will move. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she replied. No more and no less. No more words were needed.
And Bester began downloading the information into her mind, of the single act which would end this war, and of the one man who would have to die to accomplish it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"He is insane. Valen forgive me, but he is completely and totally insane."
Heresy. Heresy, blasphemy and treason all in one breath. In another life, Satai Kozorr would never have thought of committing so many sins in so short a space of time, but this was not another life. This was the beginning of the final days of Minbar.
"Of course he is insane," replied his companion. Her tone was considerably more matter-of-fact, but then Satai Deeron had always been like that. Rational almost to a fault. And evidently more at home with heresy than Kozorr was.
"You can hear him laughing, and her screaming. It is wrong, and it is unjust! Yes, she should be punished for her crime, but.... not like this! It is wrong!"
"Raise your voice a little, Kozorr," Deeron said dryly. "Perhaps Kalain or Sonovar will hear you, and then we will both learn first-hand just how insane he truly is."
"Why do the acolytes not do anything? Surely they can hear his laughter, her screams? Surely they can...."
"They are afraid, Kozorr. As they should be. Kalain could have been one of the greatest of us all. Perhaps he is. They are afraid of him."
Kozorr raised his eyes, hearing the faintest trace of Kalain's laughter. Even here, at the far end of the warship Valentha.... even here he could hear it. He believed he could hear the laughter were he on the other side of the galaxy. And.... buried beneath the laughter, were her screams. Kats, of the worker caste, of the First Fane, raised to Satai of the Grey Council. Kats, of the worker caste, of the First Fane, raised to Satai of the Grey Council.... Kozorr kept saying her name and rank, determined not to forget her. If she was forgotten, then she was truly lost.
"Why did the Holy One go?" he asked. "Why did he leave us in the hands of that.... that madman?"
Deeron stiffened. She did not like talk of Sinoval. Perhaps the rumours were true. Some of them at least. There were countless rumours about her and Sinoval, each one more outlandish and absurd than the last. Perhaps some of them at least were true.
"Sinoval left...." she said, speaking his name awkwardly, "because it was what he felt he had to do. He always felt touched by destiny. That was why I could not be with him. Perhaps he has finally discovered that his destiny is not leading him anywhere he would like to be."
"And where does our destiny lead us? You know the situation as well as I do. The Earther ships are advancing on us here, and we have next to no defences with which to meet them. And why do we have no defences? Because he who is supposed to lead us orders them all away, on useless patrols, or.... or.... He refuses to recommission the White Star fleet. He refuses to acknowledge the threat the Earthers pose. He refuses to do anything, except remain in his Hall, and laugh, and torture her!"
"So much for keeping quiet," she observed wryly. "We have done everything we can, Kozorr. We are not to blame...."
"Oh.... and what have we done? Sent one ship.... or two to try to intercept the Earther fleet. Sending them to their deaths! Delaying tactics, and not even that! What have we bought ourselves but countless deaths and a few weeks of time?"
"A lot may happen in a few weeks. Sinoval may return. Kalain may awake from his madness. The Earthers may relent and pull back from their attack. Valen himself might return from the heavens."
"Or the Earthers may advance on our home and blow it apart rock by rock. We have done little, Satai. Nothing save send people to their deaths."
"I doubt that Kalain is the only person on this ship who is mad," Deeron said slowly. "Kozorr, this is...."
"The only way. Should Kalain die, then the Council can be diverted from its current path. You could do that. You could recall our ships, reform the White Star fleet, set us back on the road where we belong. You would have to."
"Should Kalain die, that would undoubtedly be the case."
She was choosing her words carefully, as was he; neither of them willing to say exactly what they were planning. Sound tactics, but the time for subterfuge was over.
"I must kill Kalain in public. There must be no doubt, no ambiguity about who is respon sible. Do not allow Sonovar or the others to blame the workers or the priestlings.... Do not allow them to blame her. I will trust in you to protect her.... when I am gone. She will be vulnerable for a time, but only for a time. I think she may be your greatest ally before long."
Deeron could see Kozorr's eyes. There was no need to ask who 'she' was. Both of them knew, and neither could say her name.
"We seldom marry outside our own caste, Kozorr," Deeron said carefully. "Very seldom."
"I will not live long enough to marry her."
"Why?"
"She asked me for help once, and I was unable to give it. I do not want to fail her again, and.... and her screams hurt my ears, and haunt my dreams."
"I wish there were another way to do this."
"As do I, but there is not."
She looked at him. "You seem remarkably peaceful for one who knows he is about to die. When will you attempt this?"
"The next meeting of the Grey Council. As I said, there must be no ambiguity, no doubt. She must not be blamed. Sonovar will try to blame her, I know, but you must not let him." Kozorr sighed and bowed his head. "Ah, Valen forgive me for what I am about to do. Valen grant me peace and salvation and a swift return so that I may serve you once more."
He looked up. Deeron was next to him, her hand lightly touching his chest. "He will," she whispered softly. "Valen will forgive you."
"I hope so, but whether he does or not, my path is set."
There was a silence. Both of them knew that they would not meet like this again in these lives.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo Mollari's hearts were pounding in his chest. He was old and unfit, and could see his life flashing before his eyes.
The Narns were here. The Narns were here.... Refa's revenge. It had been he who had been instrumental in starting this foolish war. His hand in this, Londo was sure. Refa must be laughing fit to burst wherever he was now, the Great Maker burn him!
There were several uncomfortable questions in Londo's mind, and the answers all led back to the Centauri Royal Court. Someone there wanted the Centauri to lose this war, it was the only explanation, but Marrago, the steadfast leader that he was, was not obliging, so he had to be removed. Londo could not put this chain of events down to mere coincidence, or stupidity.
Someone back home wanted this war lost.
Londo could do far more for good back on Centauri Prime than he could here, but first he would have to get away. He had tried contacting G'Kar or his agents in the Kha'Ri, but the Narns had jammed all interstellar communications. He had tried finding a ship to escape on, but the Narns had taken the docking bays, boarding the base that had recently been theirs with brutal efficiency.
They had learned well from their masters.
He had no idea where Marrago was, or Kiron Maray - his contact in Marrago's staff - or Lennier. The two of them had become separated during their desperate flight through the base, seeking any means of escape. Now, Londo was forced into hiding, hoping to find one high-ranking Narn to whom he could talk.... using G'Kar's connections.
He stopped and looked around, realising with sinking horror that he had no idea of where he was. This base was bigger than he had thought and he had become lost. He was also alone.
Breathing heavily, he rounded a corner and ran straight into four Narns. Their uniform marked them as élite search-and-destroy agents. G'Kar had spent some time teaching him the details of the Narn military, figuring such information might come in useful one day. If only he knew....
The first Narn, who bore no insignia but whose bearing marked him out as the leader, darted forward, drawing and firing his weapon in one simultaneous motion. Londo tried to throw himself aside, but he could not move fast enough. A dart pierced his thigh, and almost instantly all the strength left his body. He fell crashing to the ground, unable to move so much as a muscle, watching helplessly as the lead Narn stepped forward and drove his booted foot into his belly.
Unconsciousness came as a blessed relief, for the moment at least.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Susan Ivanova awoke from sleep to find herself covered by cool sheets, wearing fresh clothes, her head clear, and with possibly the only friend she had in this world sitting by her bedside.
"Hi," said Laurel. "Glad to see you've woken up at last, sleepyhead."
Susan smiled weakly, and then remembered something. "How long have you been here?" she rasped.
"You were out when I got here. I've been here about twelve hours now."
"All that time?" Susan said, wondering. But she remembered.... waking up screaming and.... and she had been alone.... A dream, it must have been a dream.
"I...." Susan shook, the after-effects of her headache still remaining. "You washed me, changed my clothes...."
"You weren't that coherent," Laurel said, smiling. "But still.... I've done worse."
"Thank you." The two words came out almost like a plaintive cry. YOU PROMISED I'D BE SAFE. "Thank...." To her surprise, she found that she was crying. "Th.... th...."
Laurel sat down on the bed beside her, and gently enfolded her in a hug. She said nothing, simply letting Susan weep on her shoulder. Susan remained there for a few minutes, and then pulled back, wiping her good eye and trying to put on a happy expression.
"Thanks.... I don't know what's come over me recently. Must be the diet, I suppose," she said, smiling weakly. Laurel put on a stern expression.
"Susan.... you aren't alone. Get that through your stubborn Russian head. You're not alone. There's at least one person here who cares about you, and if you want to cry, shout, drink, play chess.... whatever.... then I'm here. Just.... never forget that, right?"
"I won't." Susan gently touched her friend's arm. "I.... I don't know what to say...."
"Well, there's a first. Listen, you should rest a bit longer. I've got.... a few things I have to do. I'll be back soon, okay? I just.... wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I'm fine.... Well, no.... but I'm better than I was. Laurel.... thank you for being there. I can't tell you how much I've.... needed you here...."
Laurel smiled and rose to her feet, making for the door. As she got there, she stopped and turned. "I'll always be here for you, Susan. Always." Then she left.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sheridan stopped at the door to her quarters, breathing in harshly. He did not want to have this conversation. He did not want to have to come here like this. He wanted to be able to.... tell her.... what? He didn't even know, but he didn't want to tell her this.
Slowly, he activated the chime, and her voice, easily as musical, said, "Come in."
The door opened and he stepped inside to see Delenn seated at her desk. She was studying reports of some kind. She looked up, and her smile lit the room. "John. It is good to see you. How has your day been?"
"Uh.... fine, fine. Um.... what about yours?"
"Stressful," she said, with a wry smile. "Lethke has been presenting me with the reports on our economy here. I had a little involvement with our economy when I was with the Grey Council, but it is nothing compared to the Brakiri.... I swear that Lethke can do things with money that make it glad it is not alive. Still, he is the best choice to run things here."
"Yes.... I'm sure he is...."
"John, what is.... What is wrong?"
He didn't want to tell her this. For a while she'd been secure here, building her new haven of light against a galaxy of darkness. He'd been here too, with his head stuck down under the sand, popping up occasionally to take pot-shots at the darkness.
No longer.
"I got my orders this morning."
It had been disconcerting to see a Narn hologram walk through the wall of his quarters, and it had taken him a moment to adjust. "Geez, G'Kar, please don't do that again without some warning."
"Oh.... did I startle you?"
"Well.... just a little."
"I am sorry, but this is information that must be relayed in person. I cannot trust these orders to an open channel, and even a closed one may be intercepted, if one has the will. I have been a little.... occupied.... elsewhere recently, but I cannot ignore the problems any longer."
"The Minbari War?"
"Yes. The Resistance Government fleet will be arriving at Minbar within a week, at most. For some reason there is little or no defence ready to meet them. I have been unable to discover the nature of the problems within the Grey Council, but there is a substantial power struggle going on there. Until matters come to a head, we must assume that the Grey Council will take no action to defend their homeworld. Indeed, most of their homeworld is unaware even that there is any threat."
"Threat of invasion and occupation?" Sheridan said, words of false hope in his mouth.
"Threat of destruction," G'Kar had replied, shaking his head sadly. "All three of the human fleets have been equipped with mass drivers, apparently augmented by Drakh bioplague technology."
Sheridan bowed his head. "We're going to do it then. Any sign of the Shadows themselves?"
"No. They have remained quiet since the Battle of the Second Line. I.... believe they are afraid of further Vorlon interference, and are remaining quiet until they feel ready to oppose the Vorlons themselves."
Sheridan spent a moment contemplating what was happening, and then he snapped to attention. "My orders, sir?"
"You are to go to sector twenty-seven by thirty-five by nine. There you will liaise with Captain Ben Zayn and the Ozymandias. The two of you will take any action necessary to delay the advance of the attacking fleet. They will be within normal space for quite a lot of the time, launching scouting parties to check for Minbari activity. You and Captain Ben Zayn are to launch hit-and-run attacks. Jump in, hit these scouting parties, and then jump out. You are not to engage the whole fleet, unless you feel it is the only solution."
"And that's it.... Just delaying tactics? We can't delay them forever."
"You will not have to. There are.... other plans in hand. Plans which will stop the war for good. It is your task to give these plans time enough to come to fruition.
"G'Quan be with you, Captain."
"I hope somebody is."
John fell silent as he finished relating his orders. "Delenn, I promise you I'll do everything I can to help your people. If I can save your homeworld, then I will."
"John...." she said softly, gliding away from him, her long skirts trailing the floor. "John.... sometimes I think we deserve no less than what your people are going to do to us. It is the circle returning to the beginning. We truly deserve no less...."
"I don't believe that, Delenn. Everyone can be forgiven for what they've done.... Everyone. I will not let any of my people harm your homeworld. I will not. If our only response to being bullied is to wait until we're strong enough to bully back, then we're nothing but bullies ourselves. Trust me, Delenn, I will not let your people be harmed."
"Why, John? What reason do you have to save us? What reason at all?"
"You. And me. I couldn't live with myself if I let this happen, and I couldn't come back to you if I failed there."
Delenn looked directly up into his face, and then came towards him, moving slowly, as if a part of her was afraid of coming too close to him. He knew how she felt - he felt it too - and yet he would rather have stopped the sun than not let her come those last few steps.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him, passionately, lovingly, fearfully. His arms slid around her, holding her close to him, unwilling ever to let her go.
Finally, however, she stepped back and looked deep into his eyes. "I.... I.... Go, John. Please. But come back."
"I will.... Promise."
He left without looking back at her eyes.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Warleader G'Sten sat down in the office that had until recently belonged to one of his people, and resisted the urge to wreck the place completely. It was just a room, yes, but it was still a symbol of everything he hated and feared. Once Narn, it had been inhabited by the Centauri for a few weeks, and now any trace that it had ever been Narn was gone, wiped away by the touch of the enemy.
G'Sten remembered the Occupation, and he remembered the Resistance. Once, he had been captured by the Centauri and had spent five weeks in one of their cells, poked and prodded and tortured by those who thought themselves better than he was. One of the Centauri ladies had issued a prophecy that he would die, and he had laughed in her face. G'Sten had always known that he would die, but it would not be for some time yet. Not for quite a while yet.
"Bring him here," he said to his personal aide, and leader of the élite force. G'Lorn nodded and left. G'Sten watched him leave, and sighed. A good warrior, but one who knew only war. During the days of the Resistance, G'Sten and his friends had talked frequently about what they would do when the Centauri were gone. Most of them would be cursing their children from beyond the pyre if they knew that what they were doing was fighting the Centauri.
G'Lorn led him in. Lord Marrago, head of the House Marrago, Lord-General of the Centauri Fleets, Lord of the colony worlds of Edrius, Frallus and Gorash.... and a pile of other titles of the sort the Centauri liked to accumulate.
He had not been taken easily. Trying to co-ordinate a defence from the control centre, he had continued fighting even after the boarding parties had taken the bridge. G'Sten actually admired Marrago. He had just slipped from G'Sten's grip at Dros, had nearly smashed his defensive wall at Ragesh 3, and had actually overcome his armada at Quadrant 44.
And now he was defeated.
G'Sten looked at his opponent, seeing again those huddled conversations from his Resistance days. He had often wondered what would happen once he had finally defeated Marrago. Now he found that he did not really care.
G'Sten gestured to G'Lorn, who took away the prisoner. Neither of them had said a word. No words needed to be said.
Marrago would die of course. A great shame. G'Sten betted that few Centauri were as he was. But still, were G'Sten in their hands, could he expect any mercy?
No. Not a bit.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Kozorr could feel his breath solidifying in his chest. He could not remember ever having been so afraid, but as he looked around the Circle of Nine, he realised that what he was planning was not only heretical and blasphemous, it was right.
Kalain had called a meeting of the full Grey Council, inspired no doubt by the feeble efforts of Gysiner and Chardhay to bring to his attention the fact that a large number of ships and colonies had been destroyed in the recent war. Kozorr wondered who had pushed them into it - unless they had actually decided by themselves to do something worthwhile.
He touched his pike, folded and hidden in the sleeve of his robes. It was not permitted to bring weapons into the Hall of the Grey Council, but a number of the warriors, most especially Matokh, had been secretly carrying their weapons ever since the Battle of Mars. Kozorr would not have been surprised if Kalain, Sonovar and the others were carrying theirs also.
He flicked his eyes across the Hall. Deeron was by his side, looking serene and peaceful. Kozorr wished he had paid more attention to meditation. Maybe then he would feel as calm as Deeron looked.
And then his gaze shifted to Kats, and his heart turned over. She was still, like a puppet held only by a single string. Her head was down, her body slumped. She looked broken.
"Greetings, Satai," rasped a hideous voice, and Kozorr almost jumped. Out of the darkness hobbled Kalain, leaning heavily on the staff of the Grey Council. Kozorr had doubted he would see that staff again - it was the weapon Hedronn had used to massacre the previous Council - but this was the same one.
The staff held Kozorr's eyes for only a few moments however. It was Kalain himself who drew his full gaze.
Kalain was dressed not in the traditional grey robes, but in his old warrior caste uniform. It hung loosely around his frame, now skeletal where once he had been strong. His face was hollow, his skin stretched tightly around his bones. His bone crest was decaying, crumbling away. The skin on the top of his head was flaking away. Kozorr thought he could see traces of the delicate membrane below the bone crest.
Kalain hobbled, where once he strode. He leaned heavily on the staff where once he would have stood upright. He spoke in a hushed, hissing whisper where once his voice would have commanded emperors. He acted like an insane butcher where once he had been one of the strongest of the warriors.
Kozorr would like to think that by killing Kalain he would help the former warrior, freeing him from whatever it was that cursed him.
(Outside the Hall, booted feet walked slowly, but surely, as one returning to his destiny.)
"Some of you have expressed concerns," Kalain said, looking in particular at the two priestlings. "Some of you have wondered about our safety, have asked whether there is something we should be doing. Some of you have asked about the Earthers and their fleets."
There was a pause, the entire Council falling silent.
"Faithless!" Kalain suddenly shouted, shaking the entire Hall. Gysiner visibly jumped. Kalain pointed one outstretched arm at the two priestlings. His arm was trembling. "Faithless and lost! You have a saying, among the religious caste. 'Faith manages.' Have faith in Valen, and in Sinoval, Valen's voice in this world.
"Faith will save us! Valen will return soon, and he will break the old orders. He will save our people, redeem us from the sins of one among us. He will destroy the Earthers, destroy the heretics and the faithless, destroy all those who do not bow down before him!
"Have faith, Satai. All of you, have faith!"
Kalain turned towards Kats, and Kozorr's heart caught in his chest. He could feel the cold metal of his pike against his hand.
"You have faith, do you not, Satai Kats?"
"Yes, Satai Kalain," she breathed.
Kalain struck the end of the staff against the floor. "Do you have faith, Satai Kats?"
The light of her column was darkening, flashing with what Kozorr could only call lightning. Kats' body shook and trembled. "Yes!" she screamed. "Yes...."
"In what do you have faith, Satai Kats?" Kalain breathed, hobbling towards her. He remained some way from her column of light, but Kozorr could see him staring at her, watching her scream. "Where does your faith lie?"
"With.... with Valen, and with.... with Sinoval, and with...."
"She has faith," Kalain said, stepping back. He turned to look at Gysiner and Chardhay. Kats was still screaming. "Do you?"
(Outside, the acolytes at the entrance to the Hall stiffened as a stranger walked into view.)
Kozorr looked once at Kats, and once at Deeron, and then he lunged forward, extending his pike. Kalain caught his motion and turned, but too late. Kozorr's pike lashed across his face, sending him sprawling backwards.
Sonovar moved, as did the other warriors loyal to Kalain, but it was Kalain himself who moved fastest. As Kozorr was about to bring his pike down, crushing Kalain's skull, the crippled and downed warrior rolled out of the way and brought up the staff. It tore into Kozorr's leg, shattering the bone. Kozorr fell.
Kalain leapt to his feet, ignoring his injury. Kozorr scurried out of the path of Kalain's staff, swinging his pike upwards. Kalain easily blocked the swing, but it did delay him.
Kats was still screaming.
Kozorr awkwardly pulled himself to his feet. His leg was broken, but he willed himself to stand. He could do no less. Kalain's eyes stared directly at him, and they were surging with an awesome fury.
Kats was still screaming.
Kozorr turned and darted towards her, unable to bear her screams any longer. She looked up once into his eyes as he approached her, and then with a sharp shove he pushed her out of the column of light. She fell back into the darkness and her cries, and her pain, stopped.
Kozorr's did not. As his hand briefly penetrated the light, he screamed. The light burned away his glove and seared his skin. He pulled his arm back swiftly, but not swiftly enough. The skin was practically burned away, leaving white bone exposed.
Kalain's staff crashed into his back and Kozorr fell tumbling to the floor. He tried to right himself, but Kalain's booted foot came stamping down on his back.
"Faithless!" Kalain cried. "Heretic, blasphemer!" Kozorr tried to lift his head, but Kalain's staff drove into the back of his crest, smashing his head against the floor.
"You have been raised to the light of Valen's favour, and you rejected it. You rejected him! Heretic!" The staff smashed down on the back of Kozorr's head again. "Faithless heretic. Faith...."
"STOP!"
A word spoken with all the force of a meteor, and the entire Grey Council fell silent. Kalain turned to the entrance of the Hall. Even Kozorr managed to lift his head slightly, staring through glazed eyes as a figure walked into view.
It was not Minbari.
"Shagh Toth!" barked Sonovar, darting forward, his own pike raised. Even Deeron started. Gysiner and Chardhay backed away from it, visibly terrified, leaving their own columns of light for the safety of the darkness.
A second Soul Hunter came into view, each one carrying its own weapon. Weapons uncannily like the Minbari fighting pikes.
"Abominations!" snapped Kalain. "Kill them. Kill them!"
"And have I been gone so long?" asked a voice familiar to all. A voice which would have caused even the Gods to snap to attention, had They the courage to approach him.
"Have I truly been gone so long, that a friend of mine is not welcome here, in my Great Hall?"
Sinoval walked into view.
"Well, Kalain?"
The entire Grey Council fell silent.