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commanded by the Vorlons. One among the fabulists now wielded immense power.

Two ships had left. Just a short time ago, one of those ships had arrived in a system on the rim marked by darkness. The symbol on the ship was that of the student of their accomplished leader, Kell.

Earlier this night at the assemblage, a burial fire had marked the death of one too young to die. After that, the assemblage had become quiet, their festivities subdued. Their leader had left, searching for his lost student. The remaining four who led the fabulists had met without him and decided upon a course of action. They had called all to gather and delivered the grave message. They would take no side in this war. They would leave known space.

Kosh slipped from the song and found himself alone again in his simple residence. Among the Vorlons, distrust of the fabulists ran deep, and some would doubt the truth of their decision, believing it a deception, a trick. Some even supported the destruction of all the fabulists, before they could join the ancient enemy. To assuage those doubts, Kosh would continue to watch the fabulists until they left for their hiding place.

Yet most of his kind would be relieved at the decision of the fabulists. Let them be gone. Let them be forgotten.

For his part, Kosh would mourn their passing.



* * *



It was the end of the convocation and the end of the Earth year 2258. Yet for Galen it felt as if this was the end of much more.

This last night was usually marked by raucous celebration, great displays of magic, passionate fights and hasty reconciliations. Yet tonight the mages stood in silence, their displays in the clear night sky mournful, somber. Elric coordinated them, incorporating Galen's suggestions. For Isabelle, glowing lines of
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