damage that had been inflicted upon the maelstrom. Those who longed for the extermination of the enemy, their allies, and every trace of their influence, would be encouraged, would feel this was the chance for victory, at last. But any escalation of the war would bring to the younger races only suffering and death.
The first casualty would be Sheridan.
Yes, some must be sacrificed, so that all could be saved. Already Kosh had given his life. Did Sheridan have to die as well?
The Human had done so much, had come so far. He struggled so with his responsibility, and he had succeeded so well. Kosh did not want him to die.
Sheridan did not want to die either. He had learned, at last, the truth of the war. The ancient enemy had twisted the facts to their own advantage, of course, but in essence what they told him was true. Sheridan was disgusted and infuriated at the actions of both order and chaos. When Sheridan's thoughts dwelled on that, Kosh wanted to strike out at his impudence. At the same time, though, Kosh felt shame at how far he and the others had strayed from their purpose, at how much harm they had brought to the younger races in their attempts to help them reach their full potential.
Sheridan believed he might now have the knowledge to stop the war, once and for all. He would die, though, before he could put that knowledge to use.
Kosh had hoped to sense another one here, an ancient presence with the power to help Sheridan. Kosh's memories of the First One were eons old, but still Kosh knew him as a figure of wisdom. Lorien had been shunned by the Vorlons for his independence of thought, revered by the maelstrom as the first to defy order. Yet he did not embrace chaos either. He had tried, long ago, to mediate between them. At the time, Kosh had