Title: Ancient History

Author: Nopporn Wongrassamee aka the Evil Author

EMail Address: EvilAuthor@aol.com

Spoilers: Takes place sometime around the Angel Season 5 episode Underneath and just after the Stargate season 7 finale.

Summary: Illyria reminisces on the past.

Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to their owners who I'm too lazy to list.

The President was on television, addressing his country and the world. He was explaining that the U.S. military had just fought off an alien invasion. When he mentioned the aliens' identity, Wolfram and Hart's newest member gave a start.

"Goa'uld," Illyria sneered.

"You've heard of them?" Wesley asked disinterestedly. Internally, he debated with himself about whether it would be worth the effort to get up and retrieve another bottle from the liquor cabinet.

"One of my kin made them in the dying days of magic," Illyria explained haughtily. "He found a placid little parasite species and raised them up to be gods." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "They worshiped us then."

"How happy for you," Wesley mumbled. A phrase caught his attention. "What do you mean by 'the dying days of magic'? There's still plenty of magic in the world."

"Yes, here there is magic," Illyria said. "Here in this dimension, this little orb is an oasis in a vast desert. Out there" she waved vaguely at the ceiling, "among the stars there is little to none to speak of."

"None at all? What happened?"

"It faded away," Illyria replied. "It was a process so slow, even we with our eternal lifespans did not notice until it was far too late. It was a process akin to what this shell would have called fossilization."

"Really," Wesley said sourly, annoyed that Illyria called her stolen body a "shell" again.

"Yes, as the magic faded, it condensed into stone form. It was simply unusable to us," Illyria said bitterly. "My kind migrated from those magic- less worlds, heading for worlds richer in magic that had not turned into rock. We left many of our servants behind, including the Goa'uld. I would have thought they would have all died out without magic."

"Maybe they found one of these oasis worlds," Wesley said.

"Perhaps," Illyria said doubtfully. "But that doesn't explain how they can rule so many worlds that your President claims they do. They are not like you humans who can survive without magic."


"Oh, yes. My kind left behind many of our human servants on worlds devoid of magic. Without our supervision, they grew bold, walking among the stars, challenging and insulting us. As the ultimate insult, they fashioned gateways from the fossilized magic, just to ease their passage among the stars. Before my death, one of my dukes had devised a plan to exterminate the human vermin."

"Which was?"

"He devised a plague that would wipe them out."

"Oh." Wesley sighed and got up. He needed another drink. "How did it work out?"

"I don't know," Illyria said sourly. "I was dead before the plan was put in motion."



Silence reigned as Wesley poured himself another scotch. Eventually, Wesley broke the silence.

"Did this fossil magic have a name?"

"The humans of the time called it Naquadah."