The BLTS Archive - In the Fire Caves
by Deborah Judge (deborah_judge_fic@yahoo.com)

---

Published: 12-19-05

Updated: 12-19-05

Warnings: References to occupation-era violence and rape. Sexual
situations in chapter 4. Also, revisionist theology. For red earrings
see your local Pah-wraith cult.

Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount. I promise I won't sue if anything
like this ever shows up in a future episode. Heh.

Notes: Draws heavily on Sabine's essay about Dukat and subsequent
discussions, and inspired by the lovely stories of selenak and
cruisedirector. All my DS9 ficcing has been made possible by a
generous grant from cirdanhavens.

Notes:
The idea that Winn preached rebellion during the occupation (and that
she was one of the few Vedeks to do so) belongs to selenak, who put it
together out of various hints in canon.

Since this story is starting to squick even me, I'd like to add my
standard disclaimer that any moral judgements made by any characters
in any of my stories are theirs and not mine. Much as I love Her
Eminence, her way of looking at the world can be rather disturbing at
times.

Notes2:
This story draws very heavily on Sabine's essay about Dukat and her
interpretation of the character and his desires. In the subsequent
discussion, selenak asked for a story in which the Pah-wraiths were
shown to be the true gods of Bajor. I have tried to oblige. The story
also draws much inspiration from selenak's and cruisedirector's 
excellent Winn fics.

---
Chapter 1: Occupation
In which young Winn Adami prays for the first time.
---

The first time Winn Adami lit a prayer-fire of her own she was
thirteen years old. The fields that had once fed her village had been
burned and ploughed under, and there were rocks in them, but the rocks
gave her a place to hide. Once hidden she knelt, bowed, and took out
one of the candles that the Cardassian officer had given her.

Her body still felt raw from her night with him. In the morning, he
had given her three candles, a frying pan, a bar of soap, matches and
a small bag of grain. She had no name for him but 'Officer', had no
other name for any of them. It was easier that way to do with them
what she had to.

A year ago she had decided that she was old enough and approached one
of the soldiers who was known to have a fondness for pigtailed girls.
There was no point in feeling ashamed, since her family needed the
supplies. It had hurt, the first time he lay with her, and sometimes
it still did. But it had to be done, so there was no point in thinking
too much about it.

Adami clutched her precious candle. Her mother had always kept a
prayer-fire burning in the home, no matter what it had cost her. "The
Prophets are our only hope," she used to say. "Only the Prophets can
save Bajor." Winn Garah had been of the priestly d'jarra, back before
the occupation when such things still mattered. The elder Winn had
even once thought she could become a Vedek before a Cardassian officer
had decided that her talents would be better used in his bed. When he
tired of her he passed her on to the garrison, who gave her occasional
bread for her services. Still, somehow there was always a candle.

"Sometimes the Prophets speak to us in flame," Garah had told Adami.
Garah had prayed to the burning candle, had even seemed to find some
hope in it. Adami wanted this. Her hands clenched around the candle.
She wanted this more than anything on Bajor.

Adami lit the candle, her hand trembling. She placed it carefully on a
rock, bowed again before it, and closed her eyes.

"Prophets," she said.

The Prophets would soon surround her, embrace her with their love. In
the face of their greatness nothing would matter, not even the
Cardassian fingerprints on her body. "Prophets," she said again.
"Prophets. I give myself to you. I belong to you. Take me, and use me
for your purposes. Even if you have to kill me, even if you have to
destroy me. Only take me, and make me your messenger on Bajor."

She knew the Prophets would speak to her. She was of the priestly
d'jarra, daughter of the great Kais and Vedeks who had spoken the
words of the Prophets in ancient times. Surely she was a worthy vessel
for their service.

"Let me be nothing before you. Take away everything I am, and make me
yours." She felt the flame shake with the passion of her words. "And
let me see you." Her voice broke with longing. "Please, let me see
you. I'll do anything, be anything. Just let me see you."

Adami thought of her family's ruined fields, of her mother wasting of
a Cardassian disease. If the Prophets would only show themselves, then
she would understand. It might still be terrible, but it would be
possible to bear. She would praise the Prophets, even from the ashes
of Bajor.

"Please," she begged, "let me see you."

Adami opened her eyes and gazed hopefully at the prayer-fire. She
stared at it for a long time. Surely the Prophets loved her. Surely
they would answer her. Surely they would accept her offering. She
watched, waiting.

The fire showed her nothing. She watched until darkness fell, but no
visions came. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was the Cardassian
officer, his limbs broken, his skin flayed off his body in great
gashes, as he writhed, screaming, twisting in the flames.

---
Chapter 2: The Love of the Pah-wraiths
In which, trapped in the Fire Caves, Winn begins to understand what
Dukat has become.
---

The Fire Caves were not, after the first moments, uncomfortably hot.
Nor were they dark. The fires of the Pah-wraiths were gentle, almost a
comforting caress, soothing like warm water on a wrinkled face. To
someone who had read their book, there was nothing surprising about
this whatsoever.

Winn Adami, no longer Kai, paced along the cave's inside wall. Inside,
the caves were an infinite space. She could walk forever. Still, they
were closed to the outside, and that made them a prison.

An eternity of imprisonment. That was the punishment to which Winn had
condemned herself by consenting to the destruction of the book of the
Kosst Amojen. No, consent was too weak a word. She had caused its
destruction, and with it the imprisonment of the Pah-wraiths. The
worst part was, she could not understand why. There was nothing more
precious to her than this book, not even her life. It was only through
this book that she had ever looked upon the face of a deity and known
herself chosen.  She did not approach the Pah-wraiths. She was
unworthy of them, unworthy of their trust, unworthy of what they had
been willing to do.

In time, Dukat came to her. He had taken back his Bajoran appearance,
and was just as handsome as Winn remembered from when he first came to
her as the answer to a long-denied prayer. His face was lined with the
same false evidence of physical labour, and his eyes held the same
feigned humility. "Adami," he spoke her name softly.

Winn thought to correct him, but she was no longer Kai, no longer
Eminence, no longer deserving of the honour of her title. "What do you
want from me?" she asked. Surely there must be something, otherwise he
would not bother to pretend to be kind

Dukat raised his hand towards her, and as she flinched away his
fingertips brushed her cheek. "Adami," he said, deceitful submission
in his voice. "I need your help."

"You are not worthy of it," Winn said, stepping out of his reach.

"I know," Dukat said, "but I need it. Please help me, Adami. I need to
know what I am."

Of course. Winn smiled at the thought of the power over Dukat that had
suddenly been given her. Of course he would not know. He had never
been able to read the book. The Pah-wraiths had never given him their
secrets, and would not even now, not even in death. Unless she told
him, he would not understand what he was becoming.

Winn knew that Dukat must be overwhelmed with memories, sensations,
visions of events that have been and will be and never were. He would
not understand them, because in nonlinear time there was no space for
explanations.  The book of the Kosst Amojen had made this all clear.
The Pah-wraiths had once been Prophets, beings existing outside time
and perceiving all eternity in an instant. If they had been Prophets,
then they still were, and would be. Nonlinearity makes this necessary.

If the Pah-wraiths had succeeded in annihilating the Prophets, then
they themselves would never have existed. Bajor would always have been
a world without gods. There would be nothing to attract the
Cardassians, and no wormhole to bring the Dominion. Bajor would be a
world of peace, and would always have been. The occupation, and the
Dominion war, would never have happened.

What gods could love their people so much as to end their eternal
existence to bring them peace? Winn had wept when she read this, her
tears of relief and gratitude sizzling on the burning page. The
Prophets, who had abandoned Bajor and left her to suffer, were worthy
of death. The Pagh-wraiths, who were willing to die to save Bajor,
alone were worthy of worship.

And still, even shaken by the self-annihilating love of the
Pah-wraiths, Winn had chosen in her last moments to give her life to
imprison the Pah-wraiths and save the Prophets. It was the choice that
she had made that had saved the Prophets. It was a betrayal of
everything she believed, and she could not understand why she had done
it.

Dukat was transforming, becoming nonlinear. In time he might become a
Pah-wraith, but first he must become a Prophet. It would suit him. He
would watch, unacting, while Bajorans suffered and gave their lives
for his sake. When they died, unanswered, they would call to him
lovingly with their dying breath.

"What am I, Adami?" Dukat asked.

You are the voice that does not answer, Winn thought. The ears that
hear screams of agony and demand praise. You are the eyes blinded to
the suffering you will never cease to bring, and I will never forgive
you.

"You are the tyrant of Bajor," Winn said, and turned away.

---
Chapter 3: The Death of the Beloved Child
In which a visit from Kai Opaka's son causes Vedek Winn to take a
stand.
---

Before Opaka Tehar led his resistance cell against the Cardassian
garrison at Kendra Valley, he came in disguise to Vedek Winn to ask
for her blessing. She recognized him immediately. He had his mother's
round face and bright eyes, and when she touched his pagh she felt the
same soft colours. She had heard of Kai Opaka's legendary son, the
resistance hero, but he had never before come to the Vedek Hall. Now
that he was here, Winn would allow him his disguise, for the moment.

"I knew you would understand," the young Opaka said. "If I go on this
mission against the Cardassians, I need to know the Prophets are with
me."

"They are, my son," Winn said. "The Prophets are always with those who
serve them."

"I was hoping you would say that," said Tehar. He seemed young,
absurdly young to be leading armies. Winn thought of her Kai, her
friend, who had taken her from the obscure monastery where she had
taken refuge and given her a future. It was a betrayal to meet with
her son secretly this way. Still, she could not turn away someone who
was willing to fight for the good of Bajor.

"Why did you come to me, my child?" Winn asked.

"The Kai..." Opaka Tehar hesitated. "The Kai does not understand. She
thinks we can end the occupation peacefully, through negotiation and
prayer. I heard about what you said in the Degari Temple during the
Gratitude Festival. To hear words like that from a Vedek," Tehar
suddenly smiled, "it was as if the Prophets really are with us after
all."

It had been so little, what Vedek Winn had allowed herself to say in
that sermon. Only a few veiled words about the longing of the Prophets
to walk with their children in freedom. Kai Opaka had rebuked her for
it, saying that she would bring down the wrath of the Cardassians and
see the Vedek Assembly destroyed. Winn had knelt in public penance,
but had apologized only for any damage to the Kai's honour that she
might have caused.

"The Prophets will favour us if we follow their will," Winn said. "Why
do you fear, child? Why do you doubt?"

"Bajorans will die," Tehar said simply. "There will be retaliation.
The Cardassians have sworn that for every Cardassian dead they will
kill ten Bajorans. But we can't not fight for that reason, can we?
Bajorans die every day in the occupation, and will continue to die
until the Cardassians are gone."

"You have the blessing of the Prophets," Winn said, allowing harshness
to creep into her voice. It disgusted her, this belief among Bajorans
that they could end the occupation without bloodshed, or that being
unable to do so made them somehow morally culpable. "The Bajorans who
die will walk with the Prophets as honoured martyrs in the Celestial
Temple in eternal joy."

"Thank you," said Tehar, and bowed his head. "I'm so afraid. Not for
myself, but for Bajor. But this is the will of the Prophets, isn't
it?"

"Yes," said Winn. She stood, and placed her hands on Opaka Tehar's
forehead. "May the Prophets walk with you, my child," she blessed him.
"May they stand with you, and guard you. May they guide your hands,
and may they watch your path, and may they always receive you in
love."

The boy stood, and Winn took his hands. "One more thing," she said.
"You did not tell me your name, so I do not know who you are, and I do
not need to notify anyone in your family of your plans. Anyone at
all."

Tehar grinned, understanding. Before he turned away his eyes were
bright like those of the ancient Vedeks who had spoken with the
Prophets face to face.

---

They brought Tehar's body back to the courtyard in front of the Vedek
Assembly. The mourning procession had already turned into a mob by the
time it reached the capital. When Kai Opaka emerged, the shouting
Bajorans would not let her pass.

Winn understood. The people had had enough of the cowardice of Kais
and Vedeks. And in that moment, so had she. Winn remembered her
mother's death, how her mother had blessed the name of the Prophets
even as the Cardassian wasting disease had claimed her life. The local
Vedek had praised her meekness. Vedek Winn would bring a different
message.

She ran to the steps of the Vedek Hall, overlooking the crowd. Jaro
Essa was leading them. He had been her student, once, before he had
stormed out of the temple to join the resistance. He would welcome a
Vedek who was not afraid to speak.

"Rise up against the Cardassians!" Winn shouted to the crowd. "Follow
the Prophets! Tehar has shown us the way!"

At Jaro's gesture the crowd parted, allowing Winn to pass. "Have not
the Prophets taught you to forgive?" asked Kai Opaka, as Winn stepped
into the crowd in front of her.

"No," Winn answered, and turning to the crowd left Opaka behind.

"Tehar died for our sins," Winn said as she moved through the crowd.
"Our sins of apathy, and fear. Our lack of trust that the Prophets
will not fail us. Tehar fulfilled the will of the Prophets. Who among
you will do the same?"

Cardassian souldiers began to surround the square. Soon there would be
bloodshed and death. But there would also be a beginning of something
that should have begun long ago.

"Do you believe in the love of the Prophets?" Winn shouted. "Do you
believe they tolerate those who make whores and beggars of their
children? Did you stand with Tehar against the Cardassian oppressor?"

Finally Winn reached Tehar's body, Jaro at her side. She gathered the
broken corpse in her arms. She would never bear a child, the
Cardassians had made certain of that when she was still a girl. But
she had called this boy her child, and he had asked for her blessing,
and he had died because of the blessing she had given him.

"I have heard the voice of the Prophets," Winn said to her people.
"They demand that we fight. They promise to stand by us, if only we
are not afraid. The Prophets promise us victory." Winn lifted Tehar's
body high over the crowd. "The Prophets ask us to follow!"

It was all lies, of course. Winn had heard the silence of the Prophets
thundering out from the Celestial Temple. The only voice she heard was
their mocking absence in the face of Bajor's agony. The Prophets had
consented in contemptuous silence to the death of their beloved son,
the same contemptuous silence that had greeted each and every Bajoran
death. No Orb and no prayer-fire would ever tell Winn the Prophets'
secrets, could ever make sense of the evil the Prophets had allowed.
The only hope she could find was in her own words, and the only truth
the one she would speak.

"Follow the Prophets," Winn said as the Cardassians bound her and led
her away.

---
Chapter 4: Penitential Prayers
In which Winn prays to the Prophets and is answered.
---

In the Fire Caves, day and night were irrelevant. The walls of the
cave always shone with the same gentle, muted brightness. Which was
pleasant, but meant that Winn Adami had no idea when to say her
morning prayers.

Winn could not recall the last time she had missed the daily office.
It had been expected of her as Kai, and before that as a Vedek, and
before that as a young Ranjin, and even before that when she had
sought sanctuary as an adolescent in the monastery closest to her
ruined home. She had even led secret gatherings of Bajorans in morning
prayer in the Cardassian prison camp, though she cursed the Prophets
after each prayer for each and every lash-mark on her back.

If the Pah-wraiths had succeeded in their self-annihilation, if she
had not stopped them with her sudden betrayal, would she still have
prayed? Winn liked to think so. She imagined facing the emptiness
where the time-transcending Prophets had now never been, and finding
in their nonexistence something at last worthy of veneration.

Winn remembered the first time she had tried to kill a Prophet. It had
been during the Reckoning, the foretold time when the Prophets and the
Pah-wraiths would fight their final battle for the rule of Bajor. She
had known that it was coming. The ancient Prophecies predicted it, and
the Prophets, when they could be bothered to speak, had never lied.
Still, she had not imagined such destruction. Hundreds dead in
earthquakes. Thousands dead in floods. All for a battle that was not
even on Bajor.

What gods would demand this death? What kindly gods would demand such
sacrifice from their children?  On Deep Space Nine, Kai Winn had knelt
before the Prophets and begged them to take her.

"Forgive my blindness," she had said. Cure my blindness, she wanted to
say. Open my eyes that I may see the sense in this death, and worship
your justice.

"I am the Kai of Bajor," Winn had said. "I offer myself to you as your
humble servant."

Even in the prison camp she had never ceased to pray. Now here was the
one to whom she had prayed, at last before her. Surely this Prophet
would listen. Surely this Prophet must.  "Only speak to me," she
whispered.

The Prophet walked past her. Winn did not know why she was surprised.
After all, the Prophets had never answered her before.

As the chroniton radiation had filled the station, the Kai finally
allowed herself to weep. "Prophets forgive me," she had said.

Sheltered by the warmth of the Fire Caves, Winn Adami, no longer Kai,
wondered what she could have meant. Did she believe that the Prophets
would speak forgiveness as they fled or died? You are right, child,
and it is we who have sinned.

And if her gods were to die, where could she turn with her prayers?

It was an unsettling question. Shaken by it, she found herself
kneeling to pray. Her priestly d'jarra reflexes had not failed her.
Resigned, she spoke the series of meaningless monosyllabic sounds that
always began Bajoran formal prayer.

"Prophets," she said after a time. Then she stopped herself. "Pah-
wraiths. Come to me. Make me one with you. Let me serve you. Make me a
vessel for your will."

It was a tired prayer, and Winn felt tired saying it. It had been her
litany since childhood, and it was almost habit that kept it on her
lips. Still, this time the Pah-wraiths were near, and perhaps this
time they would answer.

After a time, Winn could not say how long, she felt the warmth around
her begin to deepen. She felt a presence, soft and gentle, heralded by
tongues of fire. Could it be that the beings who had once been
Prophets had at last found her worthy? "Only take me," she whispered.
The presence surrounded her, close and intimate. She shivered at the
noncorporeal touch. "I never doubted," she said, which was only half a
lie, and was rewarded for her words by feeling the presence closer, as
if the being could penetrate through her very skin. "Prophets.
Pah-wraiths." Perhaps there was no difference, or did not need to be,
in the moment of this intimacy.

All her life she had longed for union with her gods with a longing so
intense that its non-fulfillment was ceaseless agony. Now as this
noncorporeal presence caressed her she felt her lifelong anger begin
to dissolve. There were no answers in the touch, no words beyond the
simple knowledge of love that in the moment was all the answer she
needed. This being, Prophet or Pah-wraith, held her, accepted her
gifts and returned them, moved gently around and in her.

The touch of her deity was more than intimate. It was erotic, bringing
her pleasure in the depths of her body and soul. She opened herself
and felt the being move deeper. In all her longings, she had never
imagined that the touch of the Prophets would feel so sexual. It felt
like the last time she had taken a lover to her bed, and the pleasure
she had felt when he moved inside her. It felt like...

Winn froze, then jumped to her feet, her arousal turning quickly into
nausea. "Dukat," she said.

He materialized, pressed against her, his right hand on her shoulder
and his left on her waist. He was in his Bajoran form, naked and
glistening. Once, she had licked the sweat off his Bajoran chest,
savoring the taste and the heat and the hunger in his eyes. She could
feel his warmth and moisture through the thin cloth of her dress. "Get
away from me," she said.

"I see you still want me," he said, self-satisfied as usual, keeping
his hands firmly in place. Tendrils of fire curled out from his limbs,
surrounding her with flashes of heat.

"Go to your masters, the Pah-wraiths," she said, pushing him away and
stepping a few paces back. "If you want mercy," if you want love "seek
it from them."

"Adami," Dukat said. "Never forget that you need me. You always have."
He stretched out his hands to her, displaying the Bajoran body that he
had shaped to deceive and pleasure her. "And I need you. I need you to
tell me what I am."

This was not a question about his physical state, as he had clearly
discovered its uses. Perhaps he was even beginning to move outside of
time. She expected that he even knew that he was becoming a Prophet.
His question was deeper than she had imagined. As was his need.

"You are deceit and lies," she said. "The violator of Bajor, and the
betrayer of its people."  It was not the true answer, not the one
which had been written in the book of the Kosst Amojen. It was the
only answer she was willing to give him. He understood this,
eventually, and left her in peace.

When Dukat was gone, she fell once again to her knees in the dirt on
the floor of the cave. Prayer was of course impossible, with Dukat
among the Prophets. And her book was gone, burned in the flames that
somehow only warmed her with their gentle heat. Without prayer, she
was utterly alone. She wondered if in time she would welcome even
Dukat's company, and hated herself for the thought. "I will never
forgive you," she said aloud. Let that be her only prayer. She dug her
hands into the dirt and ashes on the ground, and cursed the Prophets
and their Temple.

Her fingers connected with something that felt like parchment. She
pulled it from the ground and placed it in the palm of her hand. It
was a fragment of the book of the Kosst Amojen. What else could it be?
Its edges were charred, and she could read only one letter. It was an
ara, the first letter of the Bajoran alphabet. Winn kissed it, and
clenched it to her chest.

In the ashes surrounding her she found other fragments, none of more
than a few letters. There was nothing for her to arrange them on, so
she pulled off her penitent's shift and tore it in half. The top half
would be enough to cover her, in case Dukat should return. She lay the
white cloth from the bottom half of her shift on the ground and placed
the letters on it.

There was no hint as to how to arrange them. Nor did Winn have any
idea how much of the book had survived. She could not know how long
she spent rearranging letters, but they produced nothing that she
could understand. Then she remembered what had first caused the book
to reveal its secrets.

She stood, and walked to the stone wall of the cave. She picked up a
rock from the ground and struck it against the stone to form an edge.
She stood over her burnt fragments and held the rock over her, a last
salute to the Celestial Temple. If the Prophets - or the Pah-wraiths -
did not approve of what she was about to do, they were welcome to stop
her. Deliberately, she brought the edge of the rock slowly down across
her outstretched arm.

The first cut threw splatters of blood over the fragmented page. The
letters glowed, suddenly alive. Winn cut again across her upper arm,
and watched the letters dance before her with each drop of shed blood.
Still, the words made no sense.

"Do you give yourself to the Pah-wraiths willingly?" Dukat had
asked.

"With all my heart," Winn had answered.

She tore her makeshift knife across her chest. The letters burst into
flame as the blood fell, rearranging themselves into new patterns, but
still gave no answers. The loss of blood weakened her. She could no
longer stand, so she bent over the burning page and let it take the
blood from her body. "Prophets," she said, laughing that she could
ever have believed that she was strong enough not to pray.
"Pah-wraiths. Prophets." As her consciousness faded, she looked down
on the words of black and white fire beneath her. For a moment, she
thought that she could understand what they said.

---
Chapter 5: The Kai of Bajor
In which, in the caverns above the Fire Caves, Kai Winn realizes that
the sacrifice demanded by the Pah-wraiths is one that she is unwilling
to make.
--

The book of the Kosst Amojen is timeless, written in the eternal
language of the Prophets and Pah-wraiths, without past or future. It
tells the story of the brave and wise spirit who stood before the
Prophets long ago and in a time yet to come, and first named them
worthy of death.

What are we? the Kosst Amojen had said and will say to the Prophets.
Are we impotent to help the Bajorans in their need? Are we despots to
accept the worship of a people we will not save?

In the cavern overlooking the Fire Caves, the Pah-wraith in Dukat's
form laughed. "Soon the Pah-wraiths will burn across Bajor," he said.
Kai Winn knew that the time of destruction was near, the time the book
had promised.

What are we? the Prophets had answered. We are not the true gods of
Bajor. They left the Celestial Temple, and followed the Kosst Amojen
to their long exile in the Fire Caves. Yet still they remained in the
Celestial Temple, as they must, nontemporal, until their future selves
make an end of all Bajor's gods.

"A universe in flames," Dukat said, staring brightly out of the cavern
towards the doomed Prophets in their Temple. The eternity of the
Prophets would be destroyed by fire, the gods of Bajor torn down in
the self-immolation of the Pah-wraiths.

The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice so that the end may begin. The
book of the Kosst Amojen was clear on this point at least. When the
Pah-wraiths had revived Dukat, returning him to his Cardassian form,
Winn had shrieked in horror, terrified that her sacrifice had been
refused. But on reflection, it made sense. It was a fitting form for
those who had once been Prophets to take to end their lives, the form
of the tyrant of Bajor. Let the Prophets see the form that they have
taken, and know their shame.

Now that Dukat was in his Cardassian form, the Kai had expected to
feel nothing but contempt for the man who had once been her lover.
Almost nothing. She remembered the kiss that they had shared moments
before his death, and imagined the feel of his Cardassian facial
ridges under her fingers. She had allowed Cardassians to touch her as
a child during the occupation. There was no guilt in this, since it
had been necessary, and no pleasure either. But as Dukat reached up to
heaven to begin his self-destruction, the fire of the Pah-wraiths in
his eyes, it was the first time that Winn had ever found a Cardassian
beautiful.

Without the Celestial Temple, without the Prophets, the Cardassians
would never have been drawn to Bajor. Soon Dukat would die again, and
with him the Prophets and Pah-wraiths. Bajor would be free of him, in
the past and in the future, forever.

At that moment, the Emissary entered the cavern. There was no hope for
him. With taunts and jeers, the Pah-wraith took the Emissary's rifle,
and forced him to his knees.  The Emissary was helpless. He was
doomed. The defeat of the Prophets had already begun. When the
Prophets faded into nonexistence, his mother's rape and possession
would disappear as well, and the Emissary would never have been born.
He would face the same nonexistence as his masters.

"I've won," said the Pah-wraith to the Prophets. "You've lost." In a
moment, all the gods of Bajor would die.  All the gods of Bajor
would die. There would never have been any Celestial Temple. No Orbs,
no prayer-fires, no shrines, no visions, no prophecies. No kais,
vedeks, or ranjins. No priestly d'jarra. No prayers.

The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice. How had Winn allowed herself
to believe that this Cardassian tyrant was all the sacrifice the
Pah-wraiths had required? She was the Kai of Bajor, elected to speak
to the people for the Prophets on matters of faith. And to the
Prophets for the people. The Pah-wraiths had called her here because
they needed her consent to the death of the Prophets. The Pah-wraiths
were asking her to sacrifice her gods.

It was what Winn had wanted. The Prophets had betrayed her, ignoring
her prayers, silent as stone at the suffering of her mother and the
death of her mentor's son. Only speak to me, she had prayed. Even a
word would have sufficed, but the Prophets had refused to speak. She
wanted them dead.

It was just. The Prophets had failed her people, had abandoned Bajor
to occupation and ruin. The Kosst Amojen had spoken the truth. The
Prophets deserved to die. In a moment, they would.

The Prophets deserved to die. And Winn could not bear the thought of
life without them.

"You cannot stop me," said the Pah-wraith, bearing down on the
Prophets' Emissary, as he prepared to execute justice.

According to the earliest prophecies, the first words of the Prophets
had been burned. The people had refused to follow them. Winn's
foremother, the first and greatest Kai, had assembled the people and
burned the words of the Prophets in their presence so that the
shattered text could not bear witness against the people and demand
their destruction.

The Prophets deserved to die. The book of the Kosst Amojen made that
certain.  The Kai spoke to the people for the Prophets. And to the
Prophets for the people.

The Kai of Bajor must make a sacrifice. The book of the Pah-wraiths
demanded that the Kai consent to the death of the Prophets. This
sacrifice she was unwilling to make. If there must be a sacrifice,
there were others that she could give. Her pride. Her sense of
justice. Her life.

Winn Adami lifted the book of the Kosst Amojen high over her head to
cast into the flames in her last act as the Kai of Bajor.

"Then I will stop you," she said.

---
Chapter 6: Walk with the Prophets
On gods and forgiveness
---

It was in that eternal moment that Winn Adami realized that the Fire
Caves had never been closed. The walls were open. Looking up, she saw
herself kneeling over Dukat's body at the mouth of the caves, chanting
the words to end the Kosst Amojen's exile. To a nonlinear being, that
moment would never end and had always been. The Pah-wraiths had never
been imprisoned.

To a nonlinear being.

Winn's shirt was untorn, her body unwounded. The book of the Kosst
Amojen was whole in her hands. The Fire Caves were open. She could
leave them, and walk on the face of Bajor, and speak with her people.
She could give them back her book.

Walk with the Prophets, she had blessed her people at the moment of
death. She wondered where she would be walking if she had allowed the
Pah-wraiths their self-annihilation. With better gods, perhaps, gods
more worthy of their people. Or with none.

Winn opened the book. The pages were all seemingly blank, as they had
been when the book had first been brought to her. With a thought, she
caused blood to issue from her forefinger. "Forgiveness is not the
only path to union," she wrote. Will not be. Has never been. "I will
never forgive you," she said aloud. Never have. The timeless language
of the Prophets came easily to her, as if she had spoken it all her
life.  The letters burst into flame, burning with the fire of the
Pah-wraiths, black fire on white. Then white fire on white, letters
indistinguishable. Satisfied, she closed the book and put it aside. It
would live, whole and unshattered, for the future Kai to find.

"Dukat," she called out. She waited. He did not appear, would not come
to her, so she would go to him. She caused her Kai's robes to form
around her as she crossed the caves. These robes no longer belonged to
her, but she would need them for what she was about to do.

The Pah-wraiths surrounded her as she neared them. Their touch was
tentative, almost afraid. They had given her the power to judge them,
a power of which she was unworthy but that she was unable to refuse.
"Dukat," she called again.

He materialized, this time in Cardassian form. His Gul's armour shone
with the light of flames, and he grinned. "Adami," he said.

"Ask me your question," she said.  His hand reached to her waist as
he moved to embrace her. She stepped away. "Ask me your question," she
said.

"Adami," he said, more softly this time. He fell to his knees, gazing
up at her like a penitent in a shrine.

His humility was feigned, of course, as was his remorse. It always had
been. He was as dishonest and deceitful as the beings who had accepted
him. Still, Winn herself had not always been completely honest with
her gods. She put her hands on his forehead. Her Kai's robes shimmered
gold with the light of the Pah-wraiths, and Dukat's Cardassian facial
ridges were soft under her fingers.

This was not a man who deserved her love. These were not gods who
deserved Bajor's worship. This was no reason not to speak the truth.

"You are of Bajor," she said.

He laughed, and clutched her robes, staring up at her in stunned joy.
She did not turn away from his gaze, willing him to believe her words.
At last he placed his cheek on her belly, content in her acceptance.
Then he shifted form again, and was once again noncorporeal, in the
form of the Prophets and Pah-wraiths who were and are and always will
be of Bajor. How strange, Winn thought, that after a lifetime of
begging to serve the Prophets she had finally been permitted to give
them the answer to their greatest need.

The Fire Caves were open, had always been. Soon the Pah-wraiths would
leave them to return to the Celestial Temple that had always been
their home. Winn Adami would walk among them. But there was no hurry
to leave these caves. Those who had once been Prophets were close by,
and Winn had many questions to ask them.

---

The End