A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

light, a painful light, a light that seemed to burn through her skull.

Wait, the Vorlon instructed her.

'Captain,' said a voice. She wasn't sure whose. It didn't matter. The message was important, not the messenger. 'Jump engines are ready.'

'Good,' said another voice. Lyta turned her head to look at him. The air seemed so thick, or her head was so heavy. It was Captain Sheridan. She could see.... his soul. It was filled with light. No, it was surrounded by light, an aura, a halo.

'We're getting out of here, and if any of them try to stop us, blast our way out.'

'There's a lot of them,' said another voice. Sheridan's friend. Sheridan's second.

'All we have to do is get into hyperspace. We'll be safe there.'

No, they will not. They will not reach the gateway. You know what to do.

And she did. This.... this was why he had insisted on her coming along. They needed her to keep him alive. They had great plans for him. He was their future.

'Captain,' she said. Her voice sounded so strange, as if it were coming from a very long way away. 'Let me deal.... with....'

The light was burning her more fiercely now. She opened her eyes as wide as she could. She could see them all, the Shadow ships, the living beings within them, their masters on the planet below.

Delenn!

Lyta could see her. She was on Z'ha'dum. She was alive — in danger, but alive. She was with two people.... Lyta could not see them clearly. They were in danger, but they were standing at the entrance to paradise. There was someone there, waiting for them.

'She's....' Her throat clenched. She could not say the words. She looked to the voice in her mind for guidance.

You will obey. Now.

She tried to scream, but it was not a scream. The light burst from her soul, throwing her body forward. She could not feel it. She could feel the Shadow ships recoiling before her assault, recoiling and hissing and screaming. Their screams were hers.

There was a crack from her arm, but she did not feel any pain. All she could feel was the burning, the light.... it was burning her, it was taking her to pieces....

Blood filled her eyes, and she slumped. Her last image before her head struck the floor was of the Shadow ships falling back, and of Captain Sheridan giving the order to take the Babylon into hyperspace.

Her last sensation before unconsciousness was of the mocking voice that came from the centre of the light in her mind.

You have done well. Rest now.

And she did.

* * *

Sinoval had been master of Cathedral for over a year and a half. He was acutely aware of just how few of its secrets he understood, even now. There were many chambers he had never entered, there were countless soul globes he had not seen or spoken to. There were towers and turrets and parapets he had never walked. There were voices he had not heard.

But he had seen the Well of Souls, and that sight had thrown all others into perspective. He did not entirely know what it was, but he knew that he would understand when the time was right, and so he did not ask. He could feel it in his waking dreams, growing stronger and stronger each day. Soon, he would know everything.

And he would wish he did not.

He walked up to the vast door, noticing that it looked.... different from the last time he had been here. A subtle change, but a change all the same. Still, he raised his hand to the glowing seal in the centre of the door and felt its spirit wash over him.

The door then disappeared. It did not open, it was merely as though it had never been.

He walked in, aware that G'Kar and Londo were only a few steps behind him.

The chamber was vast, impossibly so. As he looked out across it he wondered if it was even bigger than Cathedral. There were a billion tiny lights glinting into the horizon. The perspective of the room seemed so extraordinary, so out of place, as if he could take one step and be at the far end of the room, and yet walk forever to reach something within arm's length.

He made for the altar. It was a stable point, and possibly the centre of the room. Lights seemed to brighten as he walked past them, over them, beneath them. He could hear their soft whispers, individual voices of those dead for millennia, now joined into one form.

The shrine was there now, directly before him. Kozorr's flower was there no longer. He had brought it in offering, as custom and law demanded. The Well of Souls had rejected it, and him, knowing he had come to betray them.

Welcome, Primarch, spoke the booming voice of the Well itself. The voice changed frequently, but now it was strong and authoritarian, an old and wise king who had been a warrior in his youth, now welcoming a young and arrogant princeling to his throne room. Welcome, Preacher. Welcome, Emperor.

Sinoval turned to look at his companions. Both seemed astounded by their surroundings. Mollari appeared to be muttering prayers under his breath. 'Great Maker,' he breathed. 'Where...?' He looked around. 'Where is that voice coming from?'

'As well ask where the air or the water or the earth comes from,' replied G'Kar.

'The voice comes from the stone beneath our feet,' said Sinoval. 'And from the air around us. It comes from the bones and the heart and the muscle of Cathedral.'

True, Primarch.

There was a sudden shimmering, as one globe seemed to glow brighter and the others faded. A figure appeared before Mollari. It was a Centauri, tall and proud, and dressed in a fashion that seemed, to Sinoval's eyes at least, to be old.

Does this form please you better, Emperor? asked the image of the Centauri.

Londo looked at it in mute horror. 'Great Maker,' he breathed again.

Do you know who I am?

'I recognise you, yes. I have seen your image in paint and tapestry. You are my however many times great grandfather, the first Emperor Mollari.'

In a sense. I am the part of him that lives on eternally, the part that did not slip away beyond the dark wall that is the end of all things.

'I never knew.... I never knew you took him. His death was.... not a matter of public record. He fled, yes? He.... you.... abandoned the homeworld after the revolution, to seek allies elsewhere, and.... never came back.'

Death claims all. He was found and saved.

'And you are now.... here? A part of this Well of Souls?'

We were complete long before his death. He is a part of Cathedral, sheltered and protected from storms by the walls around us. He is a part of Cathedral, and thus a part of us.

'I.... Please, take that image away. It does not exactly put me in an optimistic frame of mind.' The image faded. Sinoval saw G'Kar look at Mollari. The Centauri was shaking. 'It is a good job for you that I am sober,' he said hollowly. 'If I were drunk, I would have a word or two to say to you, my ancestor.'

'Why did you call us here?' asked G'Kar. 'What.... do you have to say to us?'

We know the answers to all questions ever asked, save one alone. We see what is to come, as we see what has been. The accumulated wisdom of the galaxy is ours to wield and command.

This was not to be our time. We were to be a remnant, a legacy once all others had passed from this realm to the next. We were to be a reminder of the covenants forged of old. We were to be