"What do you mean?" Londo spat. "More riddles?"
"No, no more riddles. The Enemy is beaten, Londo. They know it, we know it, everyone knows it, and they're preparing. They have two goals now, only two ambitions. First, they want to salvage something from this war, to seed worlds to begin again in another thousand years. And if they can't have that, then, well.... they want to make sure that no one forgets them this time. They'll die, but they won't die easily, and they'll leave a million scorched worlds behind them. This will be one of them."
"What? But why? What have we....?"
"You were one of the first, Londo. You and G'Kar were the first to raise arms against them. That merits some revenge, does it not? Also, they were contacted, almost invited here. A bargain for a bargain. A simple question. What do you want? And the price of getting what you want is a simple favour, but it is never worth it. Ever. Is it, Lord–General?"
Marrago said nothing. He could not find the words. Londo looked at him, and the dull light of understanding rose. "You?" he whispered, unable to believe it. Unable to comprehend it at all. "No. You lie, Morden. You lie."
"Do I? Ask him."
"Londo," Marrago said, his face gone ashen. "Londo, I...."
"But.... how could you...?" He turned on Morden, an anger blazing within him such as he had never known. "You know all this and you do nothing? Help us, damn you! You said it yourself, we were the first. We were the first in this damned war, and is this the price we pay for it? Help us!"
"You know our price. We have no interest in saving a Shadow–tainted world, only in destroying it."
"But you'll die, too."
"Will I?" Morden smiled. "Deliver to us all those who allied with the Shadow, agree to our terms, and we will bring a fleet here. We will destroy the creature, help restore order, and lend our strength to reforging and consolidating the Centauri Republic. We will even help you sort out some sort of amicable deal with the Narns. You can't say fairer than that now, can you?"
"Get out of here!" Londo roared. "Get out of here!"
"I am always open to reconsideration," Morden replied calmly. He walked forward past Marrago's guards, and stopped as he reached the door, turning. "By the way, I am to thank for protecting you from the madness. A fairly straightforward psionic blocking device. I made sure you were adequately protected last time, and now I'm doing the same. You see, Londo? We are helping you."
And with that he was gone.
The Emperor of the Centauri Republic looked at his Lord–General. It was strange, but he had never seen Marrago look so old. "Londo.... Majesty.... I...."
"Not now," Londo said curtly. "Save this palace. Serve your Emperor." He made each word sound like a barb, and Marrago winced with every one.
"As my Emperor commands," he said stiffly, and then he left.
Londo looked out once more across his capital, and dark thoughts moved through his mind.
Kiro moved through the corridors of the palace, exulting in every step. He moved unopposed, there was no one to challenge him. The few guards who stood in his path fell before the power of his glorious son, kneeling before him and begging him to be their Emperor. Mariel was at his side. She could not leave him now, she was bound to him utterly. She would not be his Empress, no. He knew in the darkness of his mind that another was destined for that. But she would be important. Very much so. She was a living reminder that, where once he had been weak, a pawn, he could so easily be strong again. He had suffered torture and agony at her hands, and that had opened his eyes to the darkness he now saw between the stars.
Guards moved forward to oppose him. He stretched out his hand and his eyes flashed crimson. Within an instant, they knelt at his feet. He moved past them, not seeing or caring. His eyes focussed on one thing only.
He walked slowly up the steps to the Purple Throne and sat down.
I am Emperor!
He moved with the force and determination of the prophet he was, bearing his message in front of him as a talisman. Those he saw trembled before him. None dared block him as he walked closer and closer towards the seat of power of his people, a place he had once trod, and now, through necessity of circumstance, would tread again.
The guards stepped aside, bowing reverently. He did not notice them.
The familiar chamber opened up before him, and there was a hush as its inhabitants saw him enter. Slowly, drawing out every moment, he walked towards the podium in the centre and looked up at the collected Circles all around him.
Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar opened his mouth and began to address the Kha'Ri.
Lord–General Marrago could feel his world collapsing around him, the final death of everything he had ever believed in or trusted. Two things alone remained. First, Lyndisty. He had to see her safe. He had to. And second, he must die as a servant of the Republic. He knew his duty. He would die, and all his sins would be washed clean. There was no other option now.
Or so he thought until he returned to his quarters and found the Drakh waiting for him.
"Peace," hissed the Drakh. "A favour is owed. One last favour, yes?"
Marrago's kutari was already in his hand. "You think I will give you anything after this? That creature tearing up my world? That is yours, isn't it? And mine, too?"
"Its delivery was the first payment, yes. There is a second."
"I will give you nothing."
"We can call it off now. It has done its task. It can be taken elsewhere. All can be well again. Your world, your people, they can be strong again, strong and united. All we need is your one favour."
"What this time? My right arm?"
"Your daughter." There was a moment's pause as the two words hung in the air. "She will be Empress of the new Centauri Republic. Through her will come the new Emperors, the leaders who will bring you back to glory. Give her to us, and we will ensure your survival, your greater destiny."
There was no thought, no moment of conception. The kutari moved, Marrago moved. The two were as one. An instant later the Drakh was dead, collapsed on the floor.
Dark clouds swept across Marrago's eyes, a terrible rage, a fire that would blaze within him. It would burn itself out soon enough, but he had time. He could do what was necessary.
Find Lyndisty, and then die in his Emperor's service.
Lyndisty ran, her skirts hitched up in a most undignified manner. Her mother, could she but see this, would be having a heart attack. Lyndisty did not care.
She moved through the palace swiftly, preferring speed to stealth. It did not seem to matter. No one stopped her. She saw fighting, she saw those she knew standing still as statues, she saw comatose bodies drooling, chewing on their lips, blood flowing down their chins.
And still she ran.
The throne room. That would be a safe place. That was where the Emperor would be, and he would know where her father was. Then everything would be all right.
She pushed her way through the doors and took a step inside, then she stopped.
There was someone on the throne, but it was not the Emperor.
Lord Kiro smiled. "My Empress," he said, welcoming her. "You have arrived at last."
The byakheeshaggai raised its head and looked up, trembling with anticipation. In the skies, in the heavens, came its Dark Masters. One by one they emerged above Centauri Prime, encircling the planet. They would claim it for their own. They would claim these people for their own. Temples would be built in their Name, to their worship.