by Elizabeth Johnson

Ridiculous.

Patently absurd.

I simply do not-- cannot-- accept the dark ink on the paper as real words.

The paper is old. Very old. But on Minbar that means little. Ancient paper is available for a high price for important enough documents. Someone could have written a modern message on old paper.

Could have, but didn't. From the English letters of my name to the contents and the signature, I know I wrote it. It is my hand. No Minbari could possibly forge it so successfully.

But it can't be my handwriting, because I know I haven't written it.

I also recognize the Minbari style signature beneath my own at the very bottom of the page. It is a stylized initial of the letter "Va". I've seen it often enough on Minbar, especially in Tuzanor, where it's carved into the base of the statue in the shrine as a decorative motif. It's how Valen marked all of his writings.

My hands are shaking and I nearly drop the letter. I collapse on the window bench as my legs give out.

Valen.

Not a god, but not quite mortal either. The greatest Minbari who ever lived... Minbari not born of Minbari... the first Entil'Zha... forger of the Grey Council... "for I am with you until the end of time"...

I force the torrent away with an effort and try to breathe. Focus only on the words. Focus, Jeff...

This letter tells me that I am -- that I will be -- Valen. Not Valen Reborn, either, or Valen Returned, which many Minbari already believe.

No, I will become Valen, himself.

Me.

I'm tempted to laugh, but I can feel hysteria bubbling too close to the surface. If I start to laugh, I may never stop. How would it look to the Rangers to see Entil'Zha giggling like a madman? What's worse, I can picture Rathenn's expression so perfectly...

A tiny, choked chortle emerges from my throat, sounding more like a strangled dove than a laugh, but the impulse passes quickly. After all, there's nothing funny about this.

How can this be true?

I can hear Kosh's typical answer without asking, "It is." Meaning, "Accept it and don't bother with the whys or the hows." But I need more than that.

Delenn has known, or at least suspected, for twelve years, since the triluminary glowed at the Battle of the Line. Everything since has been for the singular purpose of setting me on this path.

I chafe at the circularity of it -- the inevitability of it. It's already been done -- all I have to do is blindly follow along the path that God, or the universe, or the Vorlons laid down for me. But where are my choices to make my life? Where is my own destiny?

My free hand, the one not holding the letter, gathers up a fistful of my cloak. This is just so wrong.... Acceptance comes slowly to Humans, me in particular.

And I am Human. Although there are no images of Valen taken during his lifetime -- which is itself suspicious -- I know that Valen must have looked Minbari, and I know exactly how that change will be accomplished.

There are three triluminaries, after all.

How can I give up my humanity to become Minbari? Yes, I have come to care for the people. I didn't before, of course, but now I do. Yes, I'm comfortable here, as I never have been before, and I've found meaning to my life in being Entil'Zha.

When I put it together like that, I wonder how much of my humanity I'm really giving up. Who is a reflection of whom?

The letter even thoughtfully gives me a hint about how I'm gong to get back in time. "Babylon Four" I wrote -- or rather, will have written.

I remember being on the station two years ago, and that odd alien Zathras looking up at me, telling me that I have a destiny. A shiver ran up my spine, because he seemed so certain.

I never told anyone what he said to me: not even Delenn or Michael. I had wondered if Zathras had meant my becoming Entil'Zha, but I never would have imagined that my destiny would involve one thousand years of time travel and becoming... Valen.

I never thought of myself as particularly wise or brilliant. I never considered myself worthy of veneration, and certainly not a thousand years and billions of people worth. How frightening, how appalling. What would Father Rafelli at my old school say?

My only consolation is that apparently the cult doesn't really get going until after Valen "goes beyond." Whatever that means. It apparently does not mean "die". All Minbari vehemently deny that Valen died. They never use the word meaning "to die" or the common euphemism, "go to the sea". And Valen is the only one I've ever heard, including Dukhat and Valen's precursor Valeria, referred to as "went beyond."

Is it a King Arthur-type of sleeping until his people need him again? Or is it simply a case of denial, that no one saw the body and no one wants to admit that the mighty Valen could die? Or, on the other hand, it could involve the Vorlons, which makes even more sense.

Whatever it means, most of the stories agree that Valen had a long life, so that's one benefit of the deal. Perhaps another century will teach me wisdom.

That sound must be Father Rafelli laughing from above at the thought of this stubborn head ever getting wise.

I had good marks in composition and I am well-educated, both of which I'm going to need. If Valen himself wrote half the things attributed to him, he wrote a lot and wrote well. Every scrap of it has been preserved and studied for almost a thousand years.

By... God, -- I almost thought "by Valen" and then realized how wildly inappropriate it is to direct prayers to myself--

They're my shoes supposedly, but how am I ever going to fill them?

I hear a sound and open my eyes.

I knew he would show up. Ulkesh.

He stands there, smug and hidden in his encounter suit. I don't like him and I trust him even less, which he knows. Daring to come near me means he's here for a particular reason, and the reason has to be the letter. No doubt he's always known the full truth. Just as Kosh does.

Did. Does this creature care that his compatriot is gone? The Vorlons don't seem to have much compassion for "lesser" races-- do they have any for their own?

The cold, mechanical voice speaks. "Understand."

There's a soft sighing sound and brilliant white light begins to pour out from a crack in the encounter suit. Oh... Hail Mary, mother of ... I'm going to find out what a Vorlon looks like... The crack widens and at first I can see nothing in the haze of light, then the suit opens completely.

I forget to breathe and I'm walking a step toward him before I realize I've stood up. So beautiful...

Great translucent wings flap idly behind a humanoid body formed of light. I see the faces and forms of a Human, of a Minbari, a Narn, a Drazi, flickering in the light... so many, and yet all one. The power, the beauty, the magnificence... a part of me wants to fall to my knees.

But I don't. I know too much to lose myself in the face of an apparent wonder. This is a Vorlon, not an angel. All I need to remember is that no one who enters Vorlon space comes back out again.

I take a breath, and when I speak, my voice is steady. "Ulkesh."

Valen. His voice, if voice it is and not inside my head entirely, is vibrant and musical, and he bows his head to me. His form takes on a more definite Minbari shape, and his eyes turn a soft, cornflower blue. The time of return has come.

I'll be damned if I share anything of my quandary with him. I respond coolly, very much Entil'Zha, "I know. I have to go back. I've already done it, right? There's really not a whole lot of choice."

I will be there.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I demand before I realize the stupidity of it. "No, of course not. You don't care what I feel! You don't care what it's like to have absolutely no control over your life, or to find out that the next hundred years will be spent in another body, in another time, fighting a war for people I would gladly have killed myself, just ten years ago!"

My voice echoes off the crystal walls of the empty corridor. My whole body is trembling. So much for not sharing my feelings.

Ulkesh's eyes close for one moment, as if in pain. When they reopen, they are green. You do not understand. Nine hundred years... alone.

The words catch me by surprise. "What?"

The answer is deceptively simple, but layered with meanings. Valen went beyond. A single glistening tear rolls down his cheek and I feel the honest, undeniable grief radiating from him. And I realize that what drove him to severity was never malevolence, but loss. He has always wanted me to become what he lost, but I was not yet ready.

He reaches out a hand and as light as a butterfly's wings, touches his fingertips to my forehead.

You must return. Or everything dies.

I understand. In that single instant, everything changes. My soul grows wings and flies free, as my perception of Ulkesh, my perception of my duty, my idea of choice and freedom... it all re-orients itself to a final, blossoming truth. The path may seem narrow, but it encompasses everything.

How can I deny the truth?

It is all so clear to me now. All souls have a destiny, all lives have a purpose-- and I know mine.

I close my eyes, still feeling the warmth of Ulkesh's touch on my forehead. It withdraws like a kiss, and very softly, he says, Forgive me.

I hear a whoosh and when I open my eyes again, Ulkesh is gone.

Very carefully, I settle myself on the window seat to think on what has happened. Even in the absence of the Vorlon, the purity of purpose remains. I am needed, and so I will go. It is my sworn oath to combat the darkness, to stand between the light and the shadow.

I am Anla'shok.

I am Entil'Zha.

I am Valen.