Ten minutes later the meeting ended and her father came out, his face dark. He still offered to take her shopping, but she found herself not in the mood, not at all.
Blood.... blood was life. A circle. Life began in blood, and ended in it. Always it had been a symbol for change, for beginnings and endings....
For power.
Blood.... blood and fire.
The shadows danced in the flickering light cast by the few flames that were burning. A small fire at the moment, but one that would rise up again, greater and greater, rising to an inferno that would sweep the world, and then the Republic, and then the galaxy.
Once that fire had raged almost unchecked. Selini alone of the homeworld had escaped its power. The Dark Masters had seeded tools on the homeworld, instruments that had caused madness, insanity, massacres. They did this simply by showing the truth. First they had overseen the deaths of all those who could see - the prophetesses, the Imperial Seers, the telepaths and oracles. All fell, by one means or another. Then the madness had begun.
But it had ended. First a gradual ebb, a natural thing, then through the enforcement of the new law, the new order. Finally the seeds had been destroyed. The ancient enemies of the Dark Masters had sent an agent here, and he had seen that all the seeds were destroyed.
Centauri Prime could not be re–seeded. There was not enough time. The Dark Masters needed a new place in which to hide, a place they could hope to use for their salvation when they lost their homeworld, as they now surely would. But if they could not even salvage that, then Centauri Prime would have another purpose, a deeper and darker purpose.
It would be a part of their legacy, a warning, a planet of ash and spent flames.
Oh, yes.... and of blood.
It dripped slowly on to the flower. The thing within the flower stirred, its form raised to monstrous proportions through the dancing lights and shadows. Each successive drop reflected its shape, clearer with each one, more precise, larger.
Lord Kiro felt no pain, not now. The blood he fed it was his and his alone. Soon it would awake.
And then the fires would begin anew. This time, they would never be put out.
Morden looked up at the sky and found himself imagining a dark cloud falling over it. Two clouds in fact, one rising from the ground, the result of a million fires, and the other coming from the heavens, dark ships screaming.
Even without that particular image the sky was dark and grey. He could still taste smoke in it. It had been over a year since Londo had ascended to the throne and the fires had been put out, but a legacy remained. No matter how faint, it was an unsettling thought. He had less time than he had been expecting.
One of theirs was here, a Shadow minion, a powerful one too. It was sleeping still, but would be awake soon. Morden knew what it was, and what it was capable of. When it did awake.... the fires would start up again, the skies would become black, the ground would become a wasted desert, and the people mindless lunatics.
And all that just to create a place of refuge. The Shadows knew they were losing and they needed a place to hide, a place to seed with their legacy so that they might arise again. Centauri Prime was perfect for them, or it would be. Uninhabited planets would suffice, but an inhabited planet was so much better, so many people to harvest and.... adapt.
A nasty thought. A nasty image at that, but one he could prevent from becoming reality. He could.... sense the Shadow's minion. Its mind was sending out tendrils of thought and fear, tendrils he could perceive and track. At this stage it was vulnerable, and could be killed easily. Everything would be fine.
But that was contrary to his orders. His instructions were very clear, with no room for ambiguity. The Centauri had been given more than one chance to redeem themselves, far too many chances in fact. It was time for them to learn precisely the stakes they were playing for. Centauri Prime would find salvation, or it would burn. There would be no middle ground.
Which was in some ways a pity. Morden liked this planet, and even some of the people living on it. If things went.... right, then he might well ask to be posted here permanently.
There was a noise to his side and he turned, smiling. There were some people here he liked, but few more than the man standing before him, the man to whom he owed so much.
"Nice to see you," Morden said, still smiling. "I trust everything's been arranged."
"Oh, yes.... Londo, I mean.... the Emperor.... his Majesty will be in his private study for the rest of the day. No one else is there, not even his bodyguard. For some reason he's.... been sent away. I don't really know why myself, but there it is. The guards.... I could have them sent away too, or bring you in as a guest, perhaps...."
"No, that's not necessary. That would only reveal to the Emperor our.... relationship. We don't need to do that before it's too late. The guards.... won't see me."
"You'll become invisible?"
"No, they just won't notice me. Their eyes will slide right off me. It's a little trick I learned some time ago. The trouble is it'll give me a splitting headache by tonight, but, well...."
"Will you.... ah.... need arrangements for getting off the planet in a hurry? Again?"
Morden smiled. Two frantic escapes from Centauri Prime in the last few years, and neither of them accomplished just through his own skill and brilliance. "No, not this time. This time I'm here until the end, for good or ill."
"Oh, dear. Are things really going to be that bad?"
Morden looked at Minister Vir Cotto and sighed. He believed. He really believed. If all men were such as he, Morden would have a very easy life. "I hope not," he said. "But you can never be too sure.
"Now, I believe the Emperor is not expecting me...."
G'Kar debated again his only options and found himself uncomfortable with just how few they were. Time was growing short. Very short. Oh, there was peace at the moment, but the moment was all. Soon things would erupt again, and this time.... this time....
He supposed he could have done something about the situation by now, but there had always been something else. Two–and–a–half years, it had been. Two–and–a–half years since the second Narn / Centauri War had begun.
And what had he been doing in that time? He had abandoned political power for the burden of a greater destiny. He had believed that as a preacher he could have greater influence than as a politician, bringing change from within, bringing the idea of change to his whole people rather than a tiny proportion.
Maybe he had been right.... then. But now.... now he was a politician, and he was starting to wonder if his original choice had been the correct one. His people had taken his teachings on board, but they had perverted them, badly misinterpreting the message. He had wanted to speak of understanding, of alliances between races and peoples, of all becoming one to fight against a mutual enemy.
And now that message of understanding had been turned into a doctrine of conquest. Oh, the Narns would still fight the Shadows, but they would lead the war. First they would rule the galaxy, and then they would go on to the greater war. Foolishness, and a dark and bitter destiny that would bring them.
"Are you sure about this?" asked a soft voice from across the table. That voice brought him no comfort. It had been months since he had received word that Delenn was still alive, and a few weeks since she had returned to Kazomi 7 to take up again the burden of leadership, the duty of leading the Alliance she had helped create.
Every moment of those few weeks had been spent planning, preparing, readying. The commissioning of the shipyards at Krindar, constant liaisons with General Sheridan at Proxima, preparing for the induction of humanity in the Alliance, dealing with the Drazi growing more and more aggressive with every passing day, hunting down Shadow agents on the planet, trying to grasp some understanding of the Vorlons....