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the fragment that remained of himself deeper into his host. He had nearly lost himself then.

Eventually, though, he had reemerged, separating himself enough from Sheridan that he regained his own thought, and some slight sensation of the world beyond.

And so he sensed it, something beyond Sheridan. Not any Vorlon or touched by Vorlon. Instead, the opposite. An increase in the stench of chaos. Another of the ancient enemy, or one touched by them.

They had never realized that the Vorlons could detect them with such ease. So infused were they with chaos, they did not smell their own stench, nor that of their servants.

He studied the sensation farther. The energy was familiar. A fabulist. But for the two that served the enemy, he believed they all had withdrawn from the galaxy. The energy's intensity was greater than normal, and he recognized the peculiar dissonance of its pattern. The one called Galen.

He dared not reach out farther, to see if there were others. He did not believe their entire group would have returned; not after all they had sacrificed to leave. Not while war raged through the galaxy.

But they had sent at least one, their most powerful. Galen had proven himself to Kosh before, fighting the maelstrom both without and within. The fabulists would have sent him to strike, at something. Although their way of thought did not come naturally to Kosh, he hoped that they had sent Galen, finally, to stop those two of their kind who had stayed behind, who had chosen to serve the forces of chaos. Perhaps they had learned what Kosh had learned, that the two fabulists were at the center of a growing darkness, rebuilding an ancient force that had not been used in many millennia.

If that was Galen's purpose, then he was in the wrong place. In any case,
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