The Wykhheran tore her apart with one blow.

"Death," Moreil said again, with more than a hint of satisfaction.

Everywhere he went, everywhere he ran, there were mirrors. Endless people running alongside him, away from him, towards him. All the same person, and yet a little different.

John Sheridan stopped and saw someone staring back at him, a man he did not know. A man who had been able to save his daughter from Orion, to see her grow up. A man who still loved Anna, who had never captured Delenn.

He turned, reeling, and stumbled into another man. A man who had never become a soldier, but a farmer. He had looked up one night to see the sky raining fire.

Staggering, he saw countless images of himself — in a white robe, an Earthforce uniform different from any he knew, a Minbari warrior's outfit, a uniform that seemed part-Earthforce part-Minbari with a strange badge on the shoulder. He saw himself sorrowful, hateful, a murderer, a peacemaker, a leader, a servant, a killer.

Finally he stumbled to a halt, collapsing to his knees. Above him the sky beat like a black heart and clouds of lightning split the darkness. There was a smell he had never noticed before — the smell of an abattoir.

A figure approached him and he looked up, half-afraid of what permutation of his life he would see now.

The mirrors shattered and a familiar figure stood in front of him.

"We do not have time for mirrors any longer," Sinoval said.

"You," Sheridan whispered, understanding dawning at last. "What is this? Some sort of trap. You.... oh, God. You did something to me on that space station. You.... took something, or gave me something. All those dreams.... those mirrors, the voice, the questions....

"All of that was you."

Sinoval nodded.

"So what is it then? Are you trying to drive me mad? Am I a drooling wreck wherever my body is now, staring at bright lights and pretty colours? Is this all just a plan for revenge?"

"Do you truly think so little of me, Sheridan? Do you truly think I would be that petty?"

Sheridan paused, and bowed his head. "No, I don't." He looked up. "But if it served your goals, you would drive me insane in a second, wouldn't you?"

Sinoval seemed to consider that. "It would take longer than a second, but yes, I would. Fortunately for you, that was not my goal. We do not have a great deal of time, Sheridan. I have had to advance things a lot more quickly than I would have liked, but such is war, hmm?

"Every question I asked you. You could not answer a single one of them, could you?"

"What do you...? I don't have to answer any questions, least of all from you!"

"Damn it, Sheridan! Listen to me! I cannot do this alone. I inspire fear, perhaps awe. You inspire respect. They will follow me out of fear, but they will follow you out of love, and which do you think is stronger? But they will only follow you if your mind is clear.

"Yes, I took something from you. A tiny part of your soul. No more than droplets of water from the surface of a lake, but enough to give me a link. Into your dreams, into your fantasies, into your mind. I created a soulscape to force you to confront what you have become. There were.... other plans, but they failed, and I was forced to rely on what I had. Unfortunately they have found this out, and set a trap.

"To be honest, I think this was just a warning, a hint to me of what they are capable of. They actually fear me, do you realise that? They must, to threaten.... this.

"But that is my problem. I can free us, Sheridan, take you back to your body, but there will not be another chance. I will not be able to do this again. They know what I am doing, and I cannot do this alone.

"Sheridan. Who are you?"

"I don't have to answer your...!"

"Sheridan! Look at yourself in the mirror! Look at Delenn. Think about what you have become. Where are your friends, Sheridan? Where are those you love? Your precious Alliance, what has it become? Are you really who you want to be?

"Are you who Delenn wants you to be?"

"I...." Sheridan bowed his head, shaking. "What.... what did they do to me?"

"Nothing you were not willing to do to yourself. That is the tragedy of it. They healed you, yes, body and soul, but they did it by breaking you and putting the pieces back together. Some.... pieces just became set too far back. Occasionally they would reach out and intervene directly, but for the most part that was not necessary. They made you susceptible to their plans, to their desires, but the truth is, they did not have to do very much, did they? You have always been a creature of order, Sheridan."

"What of it? Is that such a bad thing?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. My inclinations have always been towards chaos. A raised blade, a battlefield, the carrion scavengers circling in the sky. That is my world, but I will not force it upon others who do not accept it. The life I live is my choice, no one else's. Look at your life, Sheridan. Look at what you have become."

"The.... the things they did to me. Can you undo them?"

"No. Another could have, perhaps, but she is lost to me. You can undo it yourself. Just think about who you are and who you want to be. That is all. It is not about me. It is about you."

"I can do this all myself?"

"If you want to enough. If you think the road you are about to walk down is not the path you desire. Delenn made her choice once. I made mine. This is yours. You have made mistakes in the past, but now is your chance to undo them.

"Sheridan, who are you?"

He stood up. "Not who I want to be. Take me back."

"We will not meet again," Sinoval said, holding up his hand and tracing patterns in the air.

Sheridan looked at him, and in the split second before they both disappeared, he said one word.

"Good."

"You will not die!" Marrago screamed into the uncaring air.

Beneath his feet he could feel the ship leaving hyperspace. Dasouri had taken them into the battle at last, not caring to wait any longer for orders.

"You will not die!"

The Shadow creature raged at him, striking and lashing out. One claw carved a blood-red line across his arm, but he hardly noticed. All was blood, one drop onto another. His blood, her blood, all was one.

"I will not let you die!"

He struck out with his kutari, not even conscious of its being in his hand. The forms, the attack, the defence, all were subconscious. Years of training had taken over, a soldier's training.

"I will not lose you!"

He was sobbing, hardly able even to see the creature through the flood of tears in his eyes. He could not feel the pain in his arm, or his back, or anywhere else he was wounded. The pain he felt was deeper and more potent and hurt him everywhere.

"Lyndisty! I won't let you die!"

The Wykhheran was puzzled, but then it knew it did not have to understand. His lord had bade him kill this one, this Sin-tahri who acted as a Master. And yet the Sin-tahri was acting strangely now. It was making loud noises, the same loud noises over and over again. There was water in its eyes. It seemed to be in grief, and the Wykhheran had never known a Master behave in grief.

The smaller Sin-tahri female on the floor was dying slowly. Was that why the one who acted like a Master grieved? What was she to this one? The Wykhheran did not know. Perhaps his lord would tell him later.

The fight was hard, but then the Wykhheran had expected it to be. Despite its size and age, the Sin-tahri would fight hard and well, a sharp tooth of metal in its hand, one wielded as if it were a claw. The claw struck quickly, but hard, and it caused pain.