StarCraft: Outcasts

Prologue: Power Overwhelming [Nyx]

The sky burned. The ground shook. The Templar know as Nyxana shuddered, pulled by an unseen force. She was only vaguely aware of the heat and smell radiating of of burning flesh nearby. Not Protoss, nor that of the Terrans, or even the accursed Zerg. It was the smell of the creatures known as hybrids, the defiled followers of Amon, who they defeated. The battle was won days ago, but here she remained on the cursed void planet, drifting in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay alive.
    A faint voiced tugged at the edge of her mind, encouraging her to stay alive. There was another voice though, and this one was louder. It called for her to come join the rest of her fallen comrades in the Khala. It reminded her that it would be more honorable to die, she had fought the good fight and would die in service of Hierarch Artanis, felling many in glorious combat. She had earned a place among her ancestors. The righteous death beckoning her, a light in the darkness. She reached for it, summoning the last of her strength. She can feel it, the light just an arms length away, but something stopped her. The other voice returned once again, to drag her back, away from the light.
    No. No! Searing pain struck her, rippling from her head down through her body. She knew what it was, or rather who it was that was calling her. It called to her, asking- no, begging for her to comeback, to continue the glorious battle known as life. To pick herself up and serve, to live to fight another day. With the pain returning to her body so did the memories, the battles and campaigns against the Terran, Zerg, and even other Protoss factions. Then the final battle against and Amon and the hybrid abominations. The ending of that battle was still cloudy, and she struggled to remember it. The thought stabbed deep, there was no ending. It's not over. She thought back on the years that have been her life. It's all built up to this fight, and it's not over. She isn't done. With that thought relief bubbled over her, and she realized a profound truth. She wanted to live.
    She opened her eyes and was overwhelmed by pain. A trickle of warm liquid runs down her brow, blurring her vision. A dark blur stood before her shaking and a bright line of red flickered in the background.
    Nyxana? Can you hear me? The familiar voice flooded her with relief as she felt a scarred hand brush the liquid from her eyes. Her second in command, Dark Templar Teminar knelt down next to her. For a moment, she had almost forgotten him, lost in her own private thoughts. Blood gushed from a wound in his abdomen, and his left warp blade sparked. Why did he care so much, why was he so set on bringing her away from the Hallucinations?
    Nyxana pushed herself up to scan the carnage of the battle. A downed Banshee smoltered, its cockpit bashed in by a piece of fallen void construct. Beside it lays a slayn Nydus Worm, bloody zerglings around it, some impaled by its teeth. And of course the bodies of hybrids and the strange creatures from the void covered the battlefield. To her great relief, none are moving. She closed her eyes, trying to unsee the horrors around her, but the horrible small remains.
    High Templar? Can you hear me? Are you alright?
    I- I believe I am alright. Was she though? She gazed down at herself. She was laying on a broken wing of a wrecked phoenix. She tried making fists with her hands, but they refused to obey her commands. More of the warm sticky liquid slid down into her eyes. She summoned her strength to attempt lift her arm. She then slowly moved it toward her head.
    Nyxana, don't- his voice called out as she attempted to scrape her forehead. It was too late, she brushed against the exposed bone where flesh should have been. Explosive pain radiated throughout her skull and she let out a telepathic scream.
Hold still and I will relieve you of your pain. His voice was steady and calm in her mind, patiently waiting for his leader. She knew he would not put a hand on his leader in an attempt to restrain her in any way; it would be a great dishonor. A Protoss should be strong enough to control themselves at all times.
    She heard the other voice again, the same voice that has been calling her back into unconsciousness for days. The sky again grew murky and Teminar once again blurred again. It occurred to her that this must be a dark twist of fate, pulling her away from death just to throw her back. Nyxana let out a mental sigh. If this is her destiny, she readily awaited it.
    Do you though? Teminar's thoughts wiggled into her mind. Nyxana groaned, she hadn't meant for anyone to hear her.
I am finally at my end and I accept my fate, as destined by the gods. She tried to keep her telepathic thoughts even, but it cracked a little at the end. A trickle of doubt stirred in her mind.
    I hope I am not out of line, but listen to yourself High Centurion! The gods? What do you think happened here? Teminar spun a slow circle motioning all around them. We have killed the so-called god Amon! The other Xel'naga are dead! The gods do not determine  our fates, we do! Teminar thoughts echoed with a passion that stunned her.
    Th-those words are Sacrilege! You cannot defy the destiny! It is... her thoughts faded as her world darkened. She realized the thoughts were not her own, they were the thoughts of her forefathers and brethren, which she had been taught over the hundreds of years. They were her mantra, that the Xel'naga were their creators, their gods, but they were now dead. Was Teminar speaking true? Was everything she believed in a lie? It hit her like a purification beam. Fate would have meant the continuation of the cycle, but they had beaten fate. She wants to deny it, but the more she thought about it, the truer it seemed. They had carved their own destiny among the stars.
    As her life was almost fully burned out, one final world shattering thought hit her. Who did create her or any of the Firstborn? They always had been bound by their duty and destiny among the stars, but without that and the severing of the Khala, who were they? What did it mean to be Protoss now? Would she even join the Khala now that Amon was gone, was it even safe to die or would she simple cease to exist?
    This new awakening made her want to live. She could play a role to her people to help them rebuild a new faith after their gods were destroyed. It matters not now, she thought sadly. It was to late though. The hand of death stretched out in the darkness. It no longer seems like the glory she had once imagined, rather the ending of the story right when the meaning was revealed.
    She had failed the entire protoss race by not living to show them what she had learned. At least Tamiar was still alive, he could tell them, or could he? She remembered his bloody abdomen and damage warp blades, could he survive? Even a Dark Templar can only do so much without weapons when severely wounded. He could find a way off the planet couldn't he?
    She felt herself being pulled toward the false light of death, growing closer with every second. Her body shook. She knew what was coming. She had seen many Protoss die over the ages. At the end of their death throes, they would open their eyes wide, and if one looked closely, they could see the light in their eyes dwindle and flicker out. She now knew that was what was happening to her. The light came closer and closer until it engulfed her completely. Her eyes open of their own accord and the light of a faded sun streamed into her eyes. She felt Teminar, still crouched beside her. Do you trust me? His voice was firm in her mind.
Yes. Her thoughts shot back impulsively.
We have no time to waste, give me your hand. His words pounded through her head.
Teminar was right, she only had a few moments left to live. Summoning the last of her strength, she lifted her left hand. Their hands locked, and a wave of psi energy rushed over her. It clicked. Teminar, you fool, what are you doing! It came out as a statement instead of a question like she meant.
    Saving your life.
    More energy surged through her.
    You can't! You could die.
    You are my commander, I would gladly lay down my life for you.
    It is forbidden! It breaks eons-old tradition!
    Many traditions are dying, they give way to new the new.
    She looked down as their hand begin to merge; becoming one.
    To survive this you must trust me, and accept the power bestowed along with the merging.
    Nyxana thought about what this meant. They would live but be shunned from the Protoss, that much is obvious, but what other consequences will there be? A Dark Templar merging with a Light Templar hasn't been done very often in recorded history. She thought about her promise, she know that she must live to show the others, surely someone will listen, won't they? In that moment she know that she has no choice, she must do it, no matter the cost. The words are formed in her mind. I trust you, she said giving herself over to the merging.
    There is a blast of light as two became one.
    Then only one thing rippled through her entire being. Power; Power overwhelming.

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