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race. They had been just a ravenous horde to me.
                  "I hear that a lot," I said, "Most times when someone tries a new food they say it tastes like chicken."
                  "Yes, we cook our food," he said, "Kresh eat theirs raw. They'll eat anything. Some Kresh'Far as well."
                  He spoke very good English, to my surprise.
                  "Why is that?" I asked, "I could tell you were different the first time I met you here."
                  "It is part of the evolution of my race," he said, "My people are born Kresh. These that your people have referred to as Lesser Demons. They are much like your animals, dogs.
                  "As we age, and if we survive that stage of our life, we become Kresh'Far. These are more like your people. We become smarter and our minds become stronger.
                  "Then, if we are lucky enough to survive that stage, we become Kresh'Sor'An. And even fewer become Kresh'Ma'Nar. Fewer still become Kresh'Farrara'Ti. It has taken me two thousand of your years to reach this stage of my existence. Many never go beyond the first two."
                  "I was born Kresh'Sor'An," he said, "Perhaps this is the reason I was different than most."
                  "You never went through the first stages," I said.
                  `He nodded and plucked another piece of chicken from the bucket. He handed the bucket back to me and I pulled out a thigh.
                  "There are others like me," he said, "I like to believe we are more civilized than our brethren, but we still have that same drive they do for destruction. I fight my drives more than most of my race. I have a stronger drive for something I have only seen in your race."
                  "What's that?"
                  "I see your race build things," he said, "You work together to do things one being cannot do alone. This war is my fault. Everything I did, I did for a reason. To bring my race together like yours.
                  "I failed. My race is even worse now than before I gave them a foe. I let this planet grow far beyond the limits we generally put on a world. I let you advance in technology to the point where my race would have to unite to face it. This Soulguard of yours was unexpected, and I could not stamp it out, I tried."
                  "And then came you," he said.
                  "I'm guessing I was a complete surprise," I said.
                  "Your bloodline is one that was supposed to have been erased long ago. It was not supposed to even be a factor in this war. Then, you have my blood, as well."
                  "So this would be a perfect way to try to remove me from the picture," I said.
                  "I believe that removing you would not unite my race," he said, "I have decided that there is only one course of action that has any possibility of uniting my race."
                  "What would that be?"
                  "My race must lose this war," he said, "But we are sworn to die before serving the Makers again."
                  "I've heard this before," I said, "What does that mean? Who are the Makers?"
                  "Your ancestors were the Makers," he answered.
                  Everything started to make sense to me. Humans had created the Kresh. That was why their Soulstreams all came through the gates. It was an artificial Source of some sort. That is why the Wraith I had captured said he would never serve the Makers. And that they would eat the Makers. It hadn't really sunk in until this moment.
                  "That does explain so much," I said, "But how does your race lose and not end up where you are sworn not to go?"
                  "We must serve one who is neither Kresh nor