will hunt us down just as the Shadows are."
Galen held desperately to the heat blazing through him. He felt overloaded, accelerated. He was shaking, his heart pounding, breath coming in irregular, shallow pants. He performed a mind-focusing exercise, another, another. Time passed.
At last the Vorlon ship turned, then sped into the blackness of space.
Alwyn opened a jump point before them, sent his ship into the churning orange-yellow vortex.
Galen broke contact with the ship's sensors. He stood in the plain, black room at the back of Alwyn's ship. Blaylock's severe, disapproving gaze was fixed on him. Across the floor G'Leel lay motionless. The threat was over. There was nothing more to crush, nothing except the ship and what was within it.
The energy raced through him, endless, merciless. He had only the vaguest idea of all he had destroyed, of the ships, the buildings, the people. They could not all have deserved death.
The tech echoed his agitation. Blaylock had said he need not give in to destruction, and Galen recognized the truth of that. It had been his choice. And he had chosen to kill.
Without a threat to hold his attention, the pain was seeping back into his leg, and he began to realize how completely exhausted his body was. His mind was exhausted as well, drained by the focus required to cast so many spells, by the even greater focus required to hold the energy inside him now, uncast. Yet he must maintain that endless, ferocious focus; there was no way to free himself from that need, for the tech was part of him, the Shadows were part of him, and as long as he lived, he could not escape them.
He needed to calm himself, to slow down.
His leg was burning now with a fire of its own, and he realized his fingers were digging into the inflamed