Chapter 3: The Triumvirate

Darkness surrounded them, held them, molding them in a bond more loyal than friendship, deeper than love, brighter than a stellar explosion. And so the three radiant stars, fixed at three different points in the universe, beamed for the planets below, a triangular guide for those souls ready to pass beyond the rim, seeking the place where no shadows fall.

Not that all believed or even knew of such a place. Beliefs were as different and plentiful as the fish in an ocean. Yet they learned, becoming swift believers, the transition into the afterlife, the immersion back into the universe, an amazing teacher.

Yet they'd failed to guide one home. In all their long years, a sheep had gotten away from the ever-watchful sheepherders. Wandering off, following the wolf's trail into danger, to a place where only shadows dwelled and lost souls fall for eternity.

This was not acceptable, an error that must be set right. And set right soon; or that lone, vulnerable sheep would be no more, forever changed by the shadows of the heart, shadows of the mind, shadows of the soul.

And so light years away, but of a linked mind, they came together to plot someone else's troth.

She's still in that wretched place.

We know. The two thoughts merged, answering in a singular, understanding in the plural.

What do you suggest we do?

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

If we leave them to their own devices, I fear time will become our enemy.

It is already our enemy, one that cannot be slowed, halted, or defeated.

True, but like a tide, it's inevitable and predictable. It will come when it comes.

So, we can either meekly await its arrival, permitting it to wash us away in its filth and silt or . . .

Or simply step aside, denying the beast its meal.

So I ask again. What are we to do?

Set candles of light before them.

Ah, I see; a path.

Yes, one for them and them alone.

Which candles?

Many stars around them shimmered and turned in their direction, as if requesting to be one of the candles of light, candles of hope, candles of faith.

An electrical smile reached from one to the other, then out to the other stars, a silent "Thank you," sent.

The other stars shifted away from the three, understanding that they would be needed later. If all went well, that was.

We have many from which to choose.

Yes, but there is only one correct selection and one opportunity to get this right. If we don't . . .

Yes, we know. We'll get it right. We won't fail them.

But what if they fail themselves by taking the wrong path?

All we can do is set the candles before them; they have to be the ones to walk the path, to make the journey of fear and doubt.

They have to be strong.

Yes.

They have to be willing.

Yes.

They have to love themselves. But love each other more.

Yes.

So we are in agreement. But we have yet to select.

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

Two candles for John Sheridan.

Yes, two candles, but complimentary flames.

Coping and dying? Are we in agreement?

Yes.

Good, now for Delenn.

Pause. One second. Two. Three.

Three candles for Delenn of Mir.

Of course.

Friendship, family, forgiveness.

In that order? Perhaps—

We have to do this right. We cannot rush her by going to the flame of forgiveness first. For within that one candle of light is the echo of another.

Guilt.

Yes, guilt. We must tread lightly, although time is but a shadow away.

Of course, you are right. I just—

We all love her; want her safely here with us, as one of us.

I know, but I've waited so long, could do nothing more over the years than watch and wait and pray.

Then pray some more, my friend, and we will join you.

And they did, united as one, Delenn and John their souls of focus.

The prayer that began with three blinking stars, gleaming as single entities, cascaded on bands of light and energy, others quickly joining, adding their own unique essence, until the universe from three divergent but bonded points was awash in light.

Light. Energy. Prayer. Hope.

For them. For love. For life.

TO BE CONTINUED