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slowed, and their movements became sharper, more purposeful. One sliced down through his weakened outer layers, then sliced across. A brilliant fragment ripped away, flying at the wall. Incoherent, separated from the rest, the fragment rapidly faded. Only the faintest remnant of it struck the wall, the last of its energy boiling across the surface.

In the dream, a grunt of pain escaped him. Kosh pushed himself to finish his message to Sheridan. "I wish I could have done more for you. There's so much I should have said and-now it's too late. You're right. It's time we began fighting this war your way." He doubled over, holding Sheridan at arm's length. The maelstrom thrashed through him, the ropes slicing, rending. His residence became a chaos of strobing light and darkness, flashing energies and shifting shadows. Another piece ripped away, and another. Unable to sustain themselves, they faded, died.

Within the anarchy, Kosh found a sliver of hope. Perhaps there was still a way that he could help Sheridan when confronting the enemy on Z'ha'dum. He had never heard of such a thing being done at this distance, nor with one untrained. Yet he had also never heard of a Vorlon being ripped to pieces. In the manner of his death, there might be hope.

He located a piece of himself that still retained some coherence. It had been partially cut away, would soon be lost. Kosh prepared, extending a threadlike tentacle from his core. The enemy's brilliant ropes sheared the section away. As it ripped from him, he extended the tentacle, seized the fragment, and drew it quickly inside his core.

From there, he forced the fragment out through his connection to Sheridan. The tentacle drove his fragment deep into the Human's mind, then quickly withdrew. In the chaos, he hoped the enemy
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