In the beginning, there was pure energy. 

After for an insignificant period of time the universe had followed one law, it began to diversify. Energy coalesced into matter. Matter was torn asunder and
reconfigured. Occasionally matter learned how to reproduce itself. 

It had done so on a planet that rotated around a yellow star, accompanied by a distant dwarf companion. With unrelenting ferocity the gigantic celestial furnace
consumed itself, and in doing so, transferred its strength to the world beneath. And yet, for eons no living mind contemplated its terrible greatness. Until the first being rose from the ground and, looking up to the sky, named the searing light - nurturer and devourer, begetter and killer - Chard'assya, the star's very existence had no meaning. 

Time passed. The planet was violently scorched by fires more devastating than any star's. 

An entity was there. But its material functions were nearly nonexistent. The immaterial, gone. Having no confirmation of self, it was like in the beginning. 

Pure energy. But no meaning. 
 

Garak rose. Like an avenging god he towered above the doctor. "How dare you, human vermin? When I seek oblivion, how dare you hold me back?" 

Bashir contemplated the once fertile soil now buried under ashen fallout. "Somehow it reminds me of you, my friend," he thought. He had known from the moment he found Garak unconscious beside the shell pit. He, the son of Tain, the conditioned survivor, was too stupid to find nutrition and shelter? Not likely. 

Something caught Bashir's attention. He tenderly blew at the grayish dust to expose a tiny green stalk with a reddish top. "See, Garak," he smiled. "The ré-chalé flowers are sprouting again!" 

"They will die." Garak's voice quavered with harshness. "The water is contaminated." 

"Die!" Bashir clenched his fists. Suddenly the bleakness of his surroundings overwhelmed him. He broke into tears, and they fell on the plant until Garak shook him...

"I'm afraid they don't like salty, either." 

Bashir looked up. "Indeed?" 

"Indeed." Garak said. And brushed his mouth against Bashir's. 
 

Suddenly, awareness. Before his mind awoke to form distinct thoughts, he dimly sensed I am. But he was all pain, his flesh an aching burden. Air filled his lungs,
making them burn. Light poured down on him, searing his eyes. I live, he knew, and to this primeval recognition he gave a visceral reaction. He screamed. 

Something blocked the brightness. Another one who was, obviously, who didn't suffer. How can that be? he thought again. All existence is pain. 

A loud hiss forced him to utter another cry. A fluid had entered his body - what was there on the outside? - raced through his body, mingled with his blood, yes,
he felt it soothing his veins, miraculously calming the pain. 

Slowly his perception focused. He smelled displeasure and saw a kaleidoscope of colors and heard reassurance, vague sounds which he didn't understand, even
while they helped him reunite his drifting mind with his bruised flesh. One clear word surfaced. 

"Garak?" 

Then, remembering, he moved his cracked lips. 

"Doctor." 
 

"No, Garak." Gently Bashir pushed his friend away. „You are too weak." When he saw the dismay in Garak's face, he added an explanation. „You are starved and
chilled. I don't think your body is ready for sexual tension just now." 

Garak grimaced. Like a predator, Bashir mused. He ran his medicorder over Garak again. 

"What the hell-" he cursed under his breath. "Probably something in the medication." 

Garak didn't listen. Couldn't. His sight was blurred by the relentless spasms emanating from his groin. He cupped his hand over his genital ridge. Please, no, he prayed. He even tried to push his swelling penis back behind its osseous shield. 

"Don't." Something grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away from the opening cleft. He stared at the something. A limb. Speech failed him. It was a hand, no, a
paw, slender, with curved claws, and what imbued Garak with almost limitless joy, of the most marvelous golden color a mind could imagine. 

"The Golden Beast.!" he whispered in awe. 
 

As a boy he had dreamt of the Golden Beast, of how it would visit him and bestow its strength and wisdom upon him. "Foolish child, it comes only to those
honorably born," they had said. But now it had chosen to reveal its unblemished beauty to the bastard. Weeping, he moved to tear the ugly shreds desecrating its body. 

"Julian!" he implored, meaning no harm. But the beast turned to flee. 

"No!" he sobbed. "You came for me!" Blinded by desire, yearning to partake of the beast's exquisiteness, he lunged and hurled it to the floor. 

"Julian!" Frenzy and agony! "Now I'll possess you!" he hissed and thrust his hard organ deeply into the tight orifice between the beast's hind legs. "And now I'll fill
you!" he moaned as his semen flowed. When the beast buckled, because of the unbearable burn that scorched its bowels, he uttered its name for the third 
time -

"Julian!" - and thus brought it completely under his power. 

And enjoyed its beauty. 
 

"Forgi-" 

Slender fingers touched Garak's lips, sealed them. 

"Hush, no," the golden one admonished. In the descending evening the breathtaking hue of Julian's skin became matted, blending with the shadowy patterns that turned the desolate garden into a mysterious place of shifting lights and nocturnal whispers. 

Garak reached towards the man kneeling at his side. When his finger came away from Julian's thighs smeared with red, he sighed. "I hurt you!" 

"It's nothing," Julian murmured. "But I'm flattered, no, wait, honored, that you perceived me as the Golden Beast." He remembered the legend from an ancient book Garak had lent him. Seeing that Garak shivered, he drew him into his arms.. "You are tired, my friend. Come, rest." 

Garak hesitated. He had never slept like this, naked, in the arms of another being. It meant vulnerability and hence, danger. But, oh, how he craved such a comfort!  Closing his eyes with wonder, he reclined into Julian's and night's embrace. In darkness his body slowly mended. 

So did his mind. 
 

He was alone. The presence of another body wrapped around his own was gone. In a corner of his ruined home he found a set of neatly stacked boxes. A note lay
on top of them: "Garak, I'll try to return soon. There's food enough for a week, in case I can't make it. Kisses, Julian." 

Garak fought his impulse to laugh. Instead he decided to clean up the place. Make it more presentable to his human - what? Friend? Lover? 

Maybe due to those conflicting emotions his notorious perspicacity was dulled. For he failed to determine the source of a low hum that, lightning-swift, grew into a thunderous roar. In its wake a racing firewall, spawned by an exploding industrial replicator, charcoaled every substance, every life. 

Only ashes remained. 

Nothing that happened on the planet was of a scope to influence its star, of course. Chard'assya continued on its accustomed path, as it had done since eons and would do until the distant moment of its own death.