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The order that had once prided itself on knowing all that could be known now preferred to know as little as possible. Of the universe, all they cared to know was when it would be safe for them once again.

Most of them had fled out of fear. For simple self-preservation, they had forsaken the galaxy. In so doing, they had forsaken their Code. They had forsaken themselves.

Only the Circle-and Galen-fully understood their situation. They were unfit to remain among others, unfit to fight in this war. They were, potentially, almost as great a threat as the Shadows. They'd had no choice but to withdraw.

While leaving had been necessary, though, that in no way excused their absence. Every death was a consequence of their failure-their failure to fight the Shadows, their failure to defeat them. Or, more accurately, his failure.

If he'd had better control, instead of withdrawing from the war he could have gone to Z'ha'dum, could have tried, at least, to destroy the Shadows. Yet he'd known that if he confronted his creators, his destruction would not be limited
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