strong sons and beautiful daughters and the line of House Kiro would sit on the Purple Throne in service to the Dark Masters for a thousand years to come.
Yes, thought Lord Kiro, Lyndisty Marrago would be a fine Empress indeed.
'Where is my father?' she demanded. Even her voice was that of an Empress. He had believed she was appropriate when she had brought him the seeds of his victory all these months ago, but now he was sure, convinced beyond all doubt. 'Where is Emperor Mollari? It is treason for you to sit on the throne.'
'A treason according to the laws of mortals,' Kiro said, admiring her spirit and fire. 'I sit here by the laws of Gods. They have made me Emperor of this Republic, just as they will make you my Empress.'
She snorted, and turned away. 'I came to find our Emperor,' she said calmly. 'Not a madman sitting in his place. I will visit your grave.'
Kiro smiled wryly. 'Mariel,' he said, and she looked up. She would never be his Empress. She never could be, and she had accepted that now. She was his in every way that counted. She had seen the glory of the Dark Masters, and of his son rising from the crimson womb. She would help him mould Lyndisty into what was necessary. After all, why else had he kept her around all this time?
'Mariel. Fetch her back. My Empress will need to be taught so many things.'
Dutifully, Mariel moved to catch the departing Lyndisty. As she placed a hand on Lyndisty's shoulder, the future Empress turned and delivered a powerful punch to Mariel's face, sending her sprawling. Kiro smiled, feeling the power of the Dark Masters flow into Mariel as she rose to her feet.
Slowly a red mist issued from Mariel's mouth, from her eyes and fingers. Lyndisty's eyes widened, but only for an instant, as she moved forward and threw another punch into Mariel's face, and then another and another. Finally Mariel slumped and fell. She did not rise, and only her racking sobs testified that she was even alive.
'Magnificent,' Kiro said. 'Truly magnificent. You are more than worthy to be my Empress.' He rose from the throne and began to walk towards her. She took a step back and a knife was suddenly in her hand, twirling competently. There was a glint of poison on its blade.
'I am Lyndisty Marrago,' she hissed. 'For generations my family has protected and guarded that throne. If you believe I will be your puppet, then you are mistaken. My father is the Lord–General, and he has trained me in every form of combat there is. Take another step forward, and I will erase your treason myself.'
Kiro smiled, and his eyes flashed. The power of the Dark Masters shone in his mind, and he could hear the byakheeshaggai scream its worship. Lightning crackled all over his body, a crimson haze fell across his vision. He looked at her and saw her soul, a melange of conflicting colours, of split personalities, of fiery red and tranquil white. She was his, his to comprehend, to command, to serve.
Trembling, she was actually resisting the song of the Dark Masters funnelled through his son. He stepped forward and touched her face gently. The knife fell from her fingers. He bent forward and kissed her, powerfully but tenderly. The first kiss of Emperor Kiro to his Empress.
He stepped back. 'There,' he said. 'Now do you doubt that you are mine, my one and true Empress?'
She reached out to touch him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She then pushed her fingertips down and paralysed his nerve clusters. He screamed and fell back, sensation ebbing from his arm. Her eyes flashed and she moved forward, another knife appearing from nowhere in her hand.
'I am Lyndisty, daughter of House Marrago,' she said again, power and contempt in every word. Contempt. For him! 'And I will never be yours.' The knife sliced through the sleeve of his tunic, and then through a button. He stumbled back. What was happening? She would be his! The Dark Masters promised it! She would be his.
'No,' he whispered. 'No, this is....'
There was a flash of light and Lyndisty fell twitching to the floor. The guard lowered his weapon. A swift glance told Kiro that the wound was not fatal, but he no longer cared. The Dark Masters had promised him victory here. She would be his.
'They are here,' he said, desperately seeking some understanding. 'They are here, so we must go to them. We must reaffirm my loyalty. Come, guards. Come, Mariel.'
'No,' Mariel said softly.
He turned to her, doubting for one second that he had heard that word. She was kneeling, blood splattering her face, new wounds over many, many old ones. Cradled in her arms was Lyndisty's discarded dagger.
'No,' she said again. 'I am not yours any more.' The words came out in a choke. She held up the blade. 'Poisoned,' she whispered. 'I know all about poison. This will not hurt, not at all. I have had enough of being hurt.'
She drew the blade across her bare arm.
Kiro screamed. 'Why? Why have you abandoned me? Masters, what have I done?'
'Ah,' said an unusual voice. 'I believe I can answer that.'
He turned to see someone standing in the doorway. A human, dressed smartly. He was smiling.
Behind him, there hovered a ghost.
In a pocket of hyperspace, the Vorlon ships waited.
Londo watched his world burn in silence. He received reports in equal silence. Totals of the dead, the dying, the cities in flames. Sphodria was lost entirely, the victim of a repeat of the violence that had all but destroyed it last year.
Even the palace was lost. The throne room had been taken and there was bloody fighting in the gardens. Some of the prisoners had either escaped or been released. And here he was, guarded and secure. He was safe, but no one else was.
No, Timov was safe. That was something at least. However much she disliked being guarded, that was a necessity. He could not abandon her as he had everyone else.
He turned just in time to see Marrago enter. There was a single moment when their eyes met, then Londo turned back to the sight of his burning city.
'We've lost Selini,' Marrago said simply. 'The Parliament building there has been burned down. I don't think there were any survivors.'
Selini. A place he had made his home for months, the place where he had plotted his counterattack. The first place to recognise him on his road to the throne.
'Leave,' he said simply. 'Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor.'
'Majesty, I.... I did what I thought was....'
'Leave,' he repeated. 'Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor.'
'As your Majesty commands,' Marrago said again, his voice trembling.
Londo waited until he was sure his friend was gone and then pulled himself away from the window. Looking into the shadows he sought Lennier, and was unpleasantly surprised to find he wasn't there. He had become so used to the silent Minbari always being around, always being here. Had he been driven insane, too? Was he to be alone forever, until he died?
He sighed, then called for a guard. There was one last option, one last path for him to take. It would take him years to put right what he would now do, maybe generations, but he would never stop working to rectify it. But for now.... he had no choice.
'Find Ambassador Morden,' he said simply. 'Bring him alive and well to my side. Let nothing stop you from this mission. Nothing.'
'As you command, Majesty.'
And that was that. All he had to do now.... was wait.
The pain had not stopped, but it had lessened. Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo could move, albeit awkwardly, and he could ignore the blandishments of the creature that spoke to him. For almost three years it had been speaking to him, and he had spent all that time trying to ignore it. The technomages had taught him meditative techniques, rituals, a stabilising of mind and body and soul that went far beyond anything he had learned in the temples of his people.
Up until now, it had helped.
But now the voice in his mind was not just one, but many. The Keeper spoke of the glory of the Dark Masters, and through its voice came that of the byakheeshaggai, last of its race, last of a once proud and ancient
