Sheridan looked around at the nearly empty bridge. His gaze caught on Anna’s body. He swallowed harshly. “I will not raise a hand against my people,” he said.

“We won’t ask you to.”

“Fine. Then I accept.”

Vir had been back on Minbar for three days now. His last day on Proxima had been tense. Miss Alexander had gone missing shortly after their last meeting, and she knew enough to have him arrested and executed. She also knew enough to tear apart the Circle of Light if such information ever slipped out. Vir had trusted her then, and he still did, but there were… ways of gathering information. He hoped she had escaped the planet, but his hopes were thin.

Still, Captain Sheridan had escaped. That was something to be thankful for. Vir had sent a message to G’Kar detailing everything that had happened on Proxima immediately upon his return to Minbar. Events there were taking a turn for the worse.

And events on Minbar were becoming worse still. Refa had not noticed any sign of Vir’s preoccupation, which was in itself a bad sign. He was pleased about something, very pleased. Vir knew the real reason for their mission here, and he knew that if Refa was pleased, then it could not be good news.

And it wasn’t. Refa received news of Captain Sheridan’s escape a few hours after the fact. He had feigned outrage at Proxima’s ‘inefficient security’ and ‘treasonous operatives’. He had managed to tear down completely the accord that Londo had been trying to build between Centauri Prime and Proxima 3. Even if the Resistance Government received word of Refa’s true allegiances, the climate of mistrust and suspicion would take too long to allay.

The Grey Council was apparently still deliberating Refa’s information, but Vir knew it would not be long now. Delenn had been completely discredited by the image of her and Sheridan Refa had provided to Sinoval. There was now only one choice for the position of Holy One.

Vir had come out to meet with Lennier, hoping that his companion had some better news. He hadn’t. Solemnly, the two swapped tales of what had happened. Vir revealed events on Proxima 3, while Lennier told of the heightening tension among the noble Houses of Centauri Prime – culminating in the death of First Minister Urza Jaddo in an apparently unrelated ’accident’.

But there was one more piece of bad news to come for Vir. After meeting with Lennier, he returned to the diplomatic quarters he shared with Refa. The ambassador was in a very good mood. Vir asked what had happened.

“Ah, you have not heard? There was another minor skirmish between some of our ships and a Narn cruiser at Ragesh 3. The colony there has fallen to those it once belonged to – us. The Kha’Ri has responded with more threats against our colonies elsewhere, and the Centarum has, finally, taken decisive action.

“We are at war, Vir. And this time, the Narns will not get off so easily.”

Sinoval looked out across the circle at the eight people who surrounded them. They had been debating for days, ever since Refa had presented his evidence to him. Hedronn had finally come around, accepting the information for what it was – genuine. Only Lennann and Rathenn still spoke out. As of course they would, but they were fighting a losing cause. Sinoval knew it, Hedronn knew it, and they knew it.

Refa had done exceptionally well. Not just with the image of what Delenn had become – the sight of her with Starkiller – but the other image as well. The sight of a human woman with a Shadow beside her. Sinoval had long suspected humanity of being in league with the Enemy. Refa had provided this proof, and, indirectly, the knowledge that Delenn was with the Enemy as well.

“Am I to believe that you doubt your own eyes?” he asked, confronting the two opposite him. “You have seen what we all have. That is Delenn. Do you deny that?”

“No,” Rathenn said, “but…”

“And that is Starkiller Sheridan. We have all seen him. We all know what he looks like. Or do you deny that as well?”

“No,” said Lennann.

“Then how can you stand there and dare to defend her? You have asked for evidence about Delenn, my fellow Satai. You have wondered whether she may still be alive, and is being held against her will. You have asked for proof and I have given you that proof. Now, now do you believe me?”

The words felt like ashes in his mouth, but he didn’t care. Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved. Delenn would have to fall so that he could save the rest of their people.

“Humanity is in league with the Enemy. That we have seen as well. Therefore, Delenn is in league with the Enemy.”

“We do not know that…” Lennann began.

“What other explanation is there? We have stood here and debated for too long. We waited until the mourning for Dukhat was over. We waited to build the Rangers. We waited for proof about Delenn. The longer we wait, the easier we will fall. We must act now – together – or not at all! Shall we stand by as the Enemy advances? We formed the Rangers nearly eight cycles ago to oppose the Enemy that we all knew was coming. Now that Enemy is here, and we must be ready for it.

“We cannot afford the luxury of conflict. Delenn has betrayed us. I hold that she be named Zha’valen.”

There were no mutters of protest, not even from Rathenn and Lennann, although their looks would have killed Sinoval if they could. “She has betrayed us all, and all of Minbar as well, to the Enemy. I hold that she be named Zha’valen,” he repeated.

Zha’valen. A shadow upon Valen. Outcast from Minbari society. No Minbari could speak to her, speak her name, or even look at her. He did not want to do this, but if the only way he could guide the Minbari to their prophesied destiny was to sacrifice Delenn then so be it, and he would never look back.

“Zha’valen,” said Kalain, now formally Satai. “Zha’valen,” said another warrior. “Zha’valen,” rasped Hedronn, his voice marked with bitter, angry disappointment. “Zha’valen.” “Zha’valen.” The word ran around the circle until only Rathenn and Lennann had not spoken. The two priests looked at each other, and finally, Rathenn said:

“Zha’valen.”

Lennann repeated the word, his voice even angrier than Hedronn’s.

“And now, my Satai, is there any more doubt left as to the position of Holy One?”

It began with Kalain, and with the other warriors, and it spread. Lennann and Rathenn did not speak, but they did not matter. Six of the Nine were with Sinoval, and that was enough. At last, he had achieved the beginnings of his dream, but the words were not spoken in dream this time, but in reality.

“Hail Sinoval! Hail Holy One!”

Holy One.

Holy One. It sounded fitting to him. Sinoval of the Wind Swords clan had always known that he would be destined for great things and now he had achieved the greatness he had always believed would be his.

Warleader and Shai Alyt of the Wind Swords clan during the holy jihad against the Earthers. Satai of the Grey Council following the death of Shakiri in Sheridan Starkiller’s attack over Mars. Entil’zha of the Rangers following the disappearance of Satai Delenn. And now Holy One.

Sometimes the price he had paid to get this power grated at him. Satai Delenn in particular. Although Sinoval had often opposed her during Council, he had always admired and respected her. He did not envy her her fate.

What he believed in private about her fate and what he said in public were two very different things. In public it suited him to maintain the common story that Delenn was a traitor to her people – that she had gone with the Starkiller willingly, and even that she conspired with him and the Enemy that had returned. In private, he believed none of this, but there was an old Minbari saying that applied in circumstances like this.