BAJOR, MAY, 2268 - EIGHTEEN YEARS BEFORE THE GHIDORAN APOCALYPSE

Vedek Bareil Menos read a newsvid feedline from the Federation. Only the faithful were in attendance. None of the earnestly interested but odd Cardassian traders were about. What was to be said had to be said to those that understood.

"This says that Peter Kirk is dead, murdered in his home and his body erased. But this merely fulfills the Prophecy Of The Rock--he who is also to be our Emissary, in our time of greatest need. He who will deliver Bajor out of three greedy, grasping mouths. As that day draws ever nearer, let us give praise to the boy, and to the Prophets with whom he now surely dwells. Blessed be Yarka Devos, our late Kai, who was allowed to look upon The Rock before he died. Blessed be the girl that will draw the boy back, for she is also The Rock. Blessed are the Seven, from whom the Rock is derived. Now feast and rejoice. Rock To Redeemer, he will return to break those mighty teeth, as though they were merest glass."

When the feasting and the happiness was all done, Bareil Menos prayed and asked to speak with the Prophets. What many outsiders failed to understand was that in fact many Bajorans had done this, viewing the strangely familiar images and hearing the oddly monotoned voices. But while they would answer questions as well as pose them, it was only to that chosen one that they would yield up a proclamation. The Orb opened and closed.

*It seeks*, said Bareil's mother.

"I do. Blessed Prophets, I seek to personally thank the one who dwells among you."

*It seeks who?*, said his father.

"I seek The Emissary. The Rock Of Prophecy who is not yet but will be."

*It seeks foolishly. The boy is not here.*, said his Vedeki-elag instructor.

"Then he has already risen back to be among us?"

*It seeks poorly. The boy is not removed from you.*, said his childhood best friend.

"But surely, living or dead, our Rock, our Emissary, moves and dwells in a place known to you."

*The boy undergoes the Forging. The place he dwells in is beyond our reach.*,  said Bareil himself.

"Blessed Prophets, where could such a place be?"

*The boy does not dwell in such places as the Bajora have shaped and named, though such places are known to the Bajora.*, said his wife.

"Oh. A Terran designation, then. I have studied their odd beliefs. The New Jerusalem? Nirvana? The Great and Bright Lodge?"

Yarka Devos appeared, last of all.

*It is a place of violation beyond knowing. Physical violation. Mental violation. Attempts to violate even the soul. Terrans speak of a fanged pit, and of a three faced fiend frozen in iced flame, its beauty all burned away. The boy dwells there. And that place is called The Lake Of Fire.*

Bareil felt a deep and intense pain. Peter Kirk was a boy he had seen, spoken to.

"I do not understand. What has the boy done to deserve such a fate?"

Yarka shook his head, or seemed to.

*Such fates are not earned. Such is necessity. Only in this way may the Beast be successfully opposed.*

Bareil rose from his knees, and began to shout.

"Necessity? What possible necessity could there be in sending a child to Hell without cause? Where is justice?!"

Bareil realized his error far too late.

"Please...I meant no blasphemy."

Voices only, now.

*It cries out.*

*It demands.*

*It questions without thought.*

*It shall be held to account.*

Bareil closed his eyes, preparing to enter the Fire Caves, and the company of the Pagh Wraiths.

"I await my punishment."

*Hear us now. In the time that follows The Rock, The Bajora who departed shall return to those who have departed. In the name of false unity, a symbol of the sun is twisted anew. A cross of iron will descend from the sky and rise from Terran Hell to banner over the Bajora in a circle of a field of blood. Fear and hate will rule. And though the signs are replete, you will not see that all this has occurred. Angrily does the once and again Emissary query you. You will have no fit answer to stay his wrath. You are made blind to these coming things, though it shall be that both event and villain are obvious in nature. It shall be so that the people shall even say that those teeth are not broken, and the beast prowls still, but now that beast is fear.*

Back in his home, Bareil Menos awoke and wept, still wondering why, somewhere on Earth, a little boy was being held down and made to feel deepest agony and despair.

Twenty-five years and a universe later, he would hear a Bajoran woman give a speech. He merely thought it odd that such an indistinct speaker seemed to rouse so many to incoherent chatter.

But never again did he directly question the Prophets.