"We know what Cartagia said as he died. We know the promise I made to Malachi. Shall it be said that I lied in my last words to such an old friend? No, I will give him the better world I promised, and that will not include giving it to the Vorlons."
"What do you wish me to do, Londo?" Marrago asked simply.
"Whatever is necessary. I will keep the Centauri Republic whole and safe. We will not bend the knee to Vorlon or Shadow, or to the Alliance either. Do what is necessary to save us, friend. Find the Shadow presence here and burn it out. Let no Vorlon set one encounter–suited foot on this world. Let...."
He stopped, and both of them turned to the window. There was a sound, a terrible cry of triumph and exultation and pain, the cry of a dark beast being born.
Both ran to the window and looked outside. Neither of them saw Lennier fall to the ground, clutching his head in agony.
Both of them looked outside and saw a red cloud rise across the sky. And at its centre was a dark mass, a hideous, revolting flying monstrosity that was ugly because it was so beautiful.
It cried out again, and the red cloud expanded. Where its shadow fell, there came madness and death.
Kiro watched his creation rise. His son, almost. In the womb he had fed it with blood and dreams and hatred, and now before his eyes it was born.
The flower, now swollen and bloated, cracked, and the air around it was red. He breathed it in, and felt a sickly–sweet taint fill his lungs. Already scarred and weak from breathing smoke, he should have coughed and spluttered, but instead he was invigorated, filled with worship for his Dark Masters, filled with conviction and strength and power such as he had not felt since he was a young man, with the sure and certain knowledge he would become Emperor.
He glanced across at Mariel, tearing his eyes away from the birth of his beautiful son. She was terrified, her eyes wide, racking sobs crushing her frame. He laughed.
He looked around at the others, his followers, the mad, the dreamers, the lost, the damned. All come here to serve the Shadow, to serve him, to place him on the Purple Throne and elevate him to Emperor.
"Come," he said. "Now.... now we are ready. Now, our Masters will show us the way."
The birth of the last of the Byakheeshaggai did not go unnoticed by its Masters. For months they had been sheltering a small portion of their fleet, enough for two purposes: shelter, protection and rebirth if possible, and revenge if that was not.
The screams came to them across the fabric of hyperspace and they began to move, making for the distant world of Centauri Prime.
A million eyes turned to look upwards at once.
Lyndisty was alone in the palace gardens, torn between meditating, practising with her weapons and contemplating her new dress. She heard the creature's cry and immediately began running for her father.
Timov was looking at papers, records of trade agreements and meetings with merchants and officials. A shiver passed through her at the sound.
Minister Durano was likewise engaged in paperwork, occasionally sipping from the still glass of water on his desk. As the glass trembled and cracked, silver droplets falling to the floor, he started and looked up, his fabled poise trembling for the first time he could remember.
Vir Cotto shook at the sound, his eyes flickering around the dark room. Beside him Mr. Morden smiled slightly, and made preparations to ride out the coming storm.
Countless light years away Carn Mollari heard something, the faintest echo in the back of his mind.
It lived. Once more, once again, it lived, awoken from the womb of the stars, crafted as perfect and as powerful as its race had always been.
But something was wrong. Where were the Guardians, where the Protectors and the Towers of Judgment, from where it would launch its first flight? This place felt wrong, the memories it had absorbed through the blood felt wrong. It could feel the domination of its Dark Masters, but they were not here. They were coming, but they were not here. Where was this place it recognised only vaguely, glimpsed in half–shadows through the slow awakening of the soul?
There were sentients here, beings who quailed and ran from its sight. Its consciousness expanded slowly, absorbing their thoughts and memories. It sent forth its eyes and ears with the crimson mists, and understanding dawned slowly.
There was consciousness here, many minds, each with the residue of potential, a race that could see beyond the veils of time, that could glimpse the soul's shadow.
With a thought to the Dark Masters, it continued extending its consciousness. In their name and in their service it would call all the minds of these.... Sehn'tahr'rhee into one, bringing a communion and an epiphany, and creating a world fit for the Dark Masters to make their own.
Londo looked out at his capital, and saw a single mass of flame. He could hear the cries of his people, but he remained here in his palace, powerless to act.
And he saw the creature, vast against the sky, in the centre of the red mist that swamped all the heavens, that filled the horizon, that brought madness and chaos.
It was happening again, all of it was happening again. Little more than a year since the inexplicable madness had all but destroyed Centauri Prime, and now it had returned, but here the madness was far from inexplicable. Here the cause was plain for all to see.
"Damn you, Cartagia," he swore. "I will not let you win. I will not!"
He heard a noise from behind him, and turned to see Marrago come into view. There were two members of the Palace Guard with him. "The palace is besieged," the Lord–General said simply. "Some of the besiegers are our own guards, driven mad. Most of the capital is burning."
"Yes, I can see. Has everyone gone mad?" He laughed. "Can we even know? Are communications working?"
"Mostly, as far as we can ascertain. I've received some reports from the rest of the planet. Remarin has been lost, so has everywhere covered by that mist. There's anarchy everywhere."
"But not here," Londo said. "Not in this palace. Around it, yes, but not in it. Why am I not mad? Why not you?"
"A question for another day, Londo, when we have more time to think. We cannot hold this for long. There are places from which we can escape, go into hiding, wait for reinforcements...."
"And then what? No, old friend. We cannot afford to lose the palace, not after everything we sacrificed to regain it. I cannot rule my people as some.... some hidden Emperor. No, we have to stay here. Can we secure the palace?"
"Truly, I do not think so. But if you stay, then I am honour bound to try."
Londo smiled mirthlessly. "Has it all come to this? Did any of our victories matter? Was Cartagia right, damn him? Was he right in his dark vision? I saw it, Marrago. I saw forces of darkness and light battling across the sky, searing our world with their war. Is this it?"
"No," said a new voice, one casual and yet knowledgeable. Both Londo and Marrago turned, the Lord–General drawing his kutari in one smooth motion. Londo did not see his friend's face change abruptly, from mute terror to righteous fury.
Morden stepped out from the shadows in the corner of the room. He brushed an imaginary piece of dirt from the sleeve of his immaculate suit, a futile display of fastidiousness, and smiled. "This is not the vision you saw, Majesty. This is merely the beginning of it. After all, the forces of darkness and light are not here yet. But they will be."
"What do you mean?" Londo spat. "More riddles?"