end the war between the Narn and the Centauri, to unite humanity with the other races, to end the threat the Shadows posed....
It would be difficult. It would all be so difficult. She wanted to be a healer again, but she could not heal until everyone was ready to be healed. Someone had to bring everything together so that the galaxy could be healed. And if not her, then who?
The voice would not be quiet, and she wanted to listen to it. She really did.... but she couldn't.
Delenn bowed her head, and turned. She began to walk away.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she walked away.
She left the room. She did not look back.
Power was a nebulous thing, a concept many people spoke of, but few truly understood. The controlling, the mastery, the capturing of power.... It was said that the person who fully understood these things would have no need actually to carry out any of them.
The man who called himself Vejar was one of the few who did understand them. He knew that sometimes the greatest exercise of power comes not by using it, but by sitting back and merely watching.
He had not always understood that. Indeed, one of the reasons he had chosen to remain behind when the rest of his order had fled to their long–ordained place of sanctuary had been because he wanted to use his power to help. Not just to help his order, but to help any who needed it.
That had been over two years ago, and now he understood a little better than he had then.
He did possess power. Physical power. The capability to kill, to destroy, to tear down whole cities. If he but wanted to, he could destroy most of Kazomi 7 in less than a day. It was all a simple matter of making the right incantations, the rights glyphs and words, and it would be done.
But the best power is the sort that is never used. The strongest sword is the one never removed from the scabbard. Sometimes there are no masks....
And sometimes it is worth staking the lives of all who live on the decision of one person.
Vejar was human, although racial differences mattered little within his order. Sometimes he even forgot that he was human, but not today. Today was the day he knew at last that the right decision had been made.
Delenn of Mir had gone to Z'ha'dum, and there, as had been foreseen, she had made the decision that could change the future of the galaxy. She had been offered the chance to travel anywhere she liked. Home, to safety, to the arms of the one who loved her.
But she chose the path of pain and repentance and redemption. She gave up, however unknowingly, the unborn life growing within her, and in doing so, equally unknowingly, she had given birth to something greater.
An ideal had arisen within humanity. The witnesses to her sacrifice, to her nobility, to her remorse. It had begun with just two, two men who both had every reason to hate her, and it had spread. At the time she had died, her work was only just beginning.
Humanity had been saved. It was entirely possible that Delenn would never realise what she had done. It was also entirely possible that had she been given the chance to change her mind over that fateful decision, she would have done nothing differently.
The order was pleased. Master Elric was pleased, as was the One Above All. Neither would explain their reasons of course, their own hopes for humanity, but that hardly mattered. The order was pleased.
Save one member of it.
Vejar raised his hand and traced a pattern in the air. A silver mirror appeared from nowhere, and within it was an image of Delenn. Dignity and strength shone in her every movement, but Vejar could see the pain within. She was walking away from something.... no, from someone.
Vejar frowned. She was returning home, to Kazomi 7. There he would have to face her, and acknowledge his betrayal of her. How could he explain it to her? How could he explain the necessity of what she had done, of what she had lost?
How?
Home.
That was a strange concept for Delenn, especially when applied to anywhere other than Minbar. She had grown up on Minbar, played in its streets, worshipped in its temples, climbed its mountains and drunk from its crystal lakes. She had never thought her home would be anywhere other than Minbar.
But that was Minbar as it had been, not as it now was. Sinoval and the humans and the Drakh had destroyed all that, turning her world into a poisoned, barren rock, turning her people into paranoid, twisted reflections of what they should be. She remembered saying goodbye to Minbar, knowing she would never return.
But as she looked out at the planet below her, she realised that in many ways she had a new home now. Kazomi 7 was not Minbar, and it never could be Minbar. In many ways it was an ugly planet, colonised by the Drazi and used for decades as a merchant waystation for a variety of illegal purposes.
Until something changed. Like Minbar, the Drakh had come and devastated the world, but unlike Minbar, Kazomi 7 had survived. Its people had survived. Hope had survived and now.... now the world was her home.
There was a procession waiting for her, naturally. News of her return had been circulating for weeks. Lethke would have arranged it all, she was sure. He was waiting for her just outside the spaceport, as soldiers tried to hold back the swelling crowd here to greet her. She looked at them all, and marvelled at how many races there were. Narn, Brakiri, Drazi, Minbari, Vree, Llort, Abbai, a few humans. No Centauri that she could see, but almost every other race was represented.
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the ship to greet them.
The roar almost knocked her backwards with its volume. She steadied herself and walked calmly across to where Lethke waited, a unit of guards around him. Lethke smiled broadly as he extended his hand to her, and she took it.
'Welcome home, Delenn,' he said simply.
'Thank you,' she replied. 'It feels good to be home.'
The journey to the Neuadd was naturally designed to be as long and as visible as possible. Much as Delenn disliked the manipulation of the people, she had to admit it did serve a purpose. She had been gone for so long, and without her as a figurehead, the Council would have had trouble holding the planet together. Now that she had returned, everyone had to know she was alive, that she was back.
People strained against the cordon of soldiers. Hands reached out to her. Voices cried out her name. She absorbed it all, uncomfortable, but also welcoming it. It was nice to know she was making a difference.
She turned suddenly at the sound of a commotion. Someone had managed to break through the cordon and was moving towards her. The Drazi soldiers had caught him and were forcing him down, raining blows on his body.
'Stop,' she said firmly, with more authority than most military commanders could muster. The guards hesitated, and she stepped down from the procession to approach the prone figure. It was a Brakiri. He was clearly old, and his face bore numerous scars and old wounds. Around his arm he wore an black armband, a sign of mourning indicating he had survived the grim days of the Drakh occupation.
She bent down and helped him to his feet. His eyes widened as he saw her. 'It is you,' he whispered, his tone reverential. 'They said you were dead.'
'I was,' she said. The shouts and cheering had stopped. Everyone was looking at her. 'I was dead,' she said again, louder. Then she smiled slightly. 'I got better.'
There were more cheers. People shouted her name, but she did not hear any of it. She only heard the Brakiri's voice, rasping and harsh as he tried to speak through floods of tears. 'I knew it,' he said. 'Thank you. Oh, thank you.'
'What for?' she asked, genuinely puzzled.
He looked surprised. 'Everything, of course.
'Everything.'
