"Zeratul, if you die, or if your Protoss' little secrets are exposed, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."
In the dark, organic chamber of the Leviathan, the former Terran Sarah Louise Kerrigan—now the Queen of Blades, Zerg's sovereign—sneered coldly at the Dark Prelate of the Protoss Nerazim, the Dark Templars.
"Kerrigan, the conflicts between us are meaningless now. Whispers echo across the stars—an unstoppable storm is forming. It will sweep through, destroying all."
"The entire galaxy will soon be consumed by fire… humans, Protoss, even Zerg. None will escape."
Zeratul said little more. He calmly walked past the bristling Hydralisks and sat down on a chair of creep-like membrane.
These structures, like networks of nerves, functioned as bio-computers, their advanced biology mimicking Protoss nerve clusters.
It was like when Zeratul slew the cerebrate Zasz of the Garm brood. Killing Zasz had triggered a psionic link between Zeratul and the Overmind. That link revealed secrets on both sides—the Overmind learned from Zeratul's mind the precise coordinates of Aiur, the Protoss homeworld. It led directly to the Battle of Aiur.
The Protoss lost. Their homeworld was ravaged. Their unity shattered.
Every recollection of that reckless act filled Zeratul with bitter regret. He understood Kerrigan's veiled warning, but… there was no time.
"The final twilight dims. Humanity's strength falters. Kerrigan… in the darkness, only we remain. Our time is short. Now is the time to unite… against the cruel fate that approaches."
Emerald eyes flashed briefly with profound pain, but Zeratul quickly contained it. He could not allow the sacrifice of the Protoss warriors to be in vain. Raising his head, he looked at the Terran woman before him.
"Do you remember our first meeting? Your future has already been foretold. You are part of the climax, but not its end. You will be shown the path forward, and you will take it. The past has been rewritten, but it no longer matters. You are not the master. Your existence is only to provide the necessary command."
"The dark echo—Amon." He spoke solemnly. "I must see for myself whether the great enemy destroying the Swarm is Amon's pawn. This is of grave importance."
"Then let us begin."
Seeing the stubborn old Protoss prepared, Kerrigan readied the connection.
She had given her warning. That was enough.
This time, her transformation into the Queen of Blades had been her choice. She still possessed human reason and emotion.
Out of consideration for Zeratul's repeated aid—and for bringing her the invaluable news that Jim Raynor still lived—Kerrigan had, perhaps sentimentally, thought for his sake.
If she were to die, or lose control of the Swarm, and this link exposed further Protoss secrets…
The Zerg's nature would broadcast shared psionic information to upper organisms. If war between Zerg and Protoss reignited, she would feel a twinge of guilt toward the old Protoss who had tried so hard to help her…
After all, Kerrigan could not force every broodmother to delete such shared data.
In the end, she had never been born Zerg.
It was the Overmind—who perished alongside Executor Tassadar—that created her.
Because of her exceptional psionic talent, the Overmind had chosen her to carry a fusion of powerful genetic material, forging her into an unstoppable psionic weapon.
To preserve Kerrigan's intelligence and tactical genius, the Overmind had not fully assimilated her into the Zerg, but left her humanity intact—her will, her freedom.
A blessing, and a curse.
Kerrigan's immense psionic presence benefited the entire Swarm. Yet divisions remained.
Though the Overmind was long dead, Kerrigan's rule over the Swarm rested on its 'will' and her ability to win the trust of the broodmothers, as well as her own overwhelming strength.
For instance, not long ago, when Kerrigan, burning with rage at Arcturus Mengsk and the Terran Dominion, returned to Char to reclaim the Swarm, she was opposed fiercely by broodmother Zagara, commander of Char's brood forces.
It was only by crushing Zagara with overwhelming psionic power that Kerrigan forced her surrender. After several campaigns destroying Dominion forces near Char, Zagara finally acknowledged Kerrigan's strength and began to support her.
There was also Abathur, one of the oldest Zerg organisms, the 'Evolution Master' responsible for guiding the Swarm's adaptation and evolution since its inception under the Overmind's command.
He was the architect who engineered the transformation of Kerrigan—from a psionically gifted Terran—into the Queen of Blades.
Against such 'old guard' figures and powerful local forces of the Swarm, Kerrigan could not command absolute control as the Overmind once had. Where the Overmind's will reached, all obeyed without question, its psionic signal binding the Swarm seamlessly.
Kerrigan, however, even to return to the Zerg's origin world, Zerus, had to rally forces, fight primal Zerg, and claim their ancient strength before becoming the Queen of Blades once more.
What kind of humiliated Swarm sovereign required such effort?
Oh, and then there was the second Overmind, captured and enslaved by the United Earth Directorate with a psi disrupter. That hardly counted.
"Hopefully, it is as I wish—some good news. At times like these, I would almost prefer it be humanity's doing," Zeratul said.
Bzzz—!
At once, with the hum of psionic signals, writhing organic structures enveloped his body. Countless neural probes pierced his flesh, sending a surge of familiar pain coursing through him. Zeratul trembled faintly.
"Mm…"
A wave of dizziness struck, cold chills creeping from his nerves into his marrow. Zeratul clenched, his hanging hands brushing his thighs, digging in slightly. The sting of pain helped dull the disorientation.
He knew he still sat upon the Leviathan's nerve-linked seat, borrowing the vast psionic signal network of the Queen of Blades' living flagship. His mind sank deeper into the immense lattice of the Swarm.
Suddenly, the world turned murky.
The dizziness fell away, replaced by unparalleled clarity. He seemed to see the once-empty Leviathan chamber brimming with psionic signals, a chaotic storm of thought and energy.
Unlike his passive, agonizing link to the Overmind, this deliberate connection to the Swarm brought a different sensation altogether.
As though… the two races were meant to unite into perfection.
Zeratul recalled ancient legends and a terrifying possibility.
The Xel'Naga had created the Zerg and Protoss: the Zerg as pure flesh, the Protoss as pure spirit and energy.
It explained why the Overmind hungered so desperately for the Protoss, striving endlessly to consume and assimilate them. Though the Protoss' might thwarted it, the drive had been clear.
So that was your hidden pursuit? Seeking every possible path to resist Amon?
As the only Protoss to have linked briefly with the Overmind, Zeratul remembered that instant vividly—the Overmind's will, roaring and crying out in despair.
"Zeratul, I will guide you. But remember—don't touch recklessly. Unless you wish to share minds with a broodmother. Many of them fought at Aiur and hold no fondness for the Protoss."
Kerrigan's echoing voice resonated in Zeratul's mind.
In psionics, Zeratul—and indeed the Protoss race—still had much Kerrigan could learn from. Her own psionic use had once been nothing but brute force, flung like bricks. It was only after study—of the Dominion's Ghost Program archives, of the Protoss' psionic storm—that Kerrigan had forged her fearsome reputation as the Queen of Blades.
Buzz! Buzz!
Faint violet lines stood out amid the chaos of the psionic web. Zeratul knew them—Kerrigan's guidance, the last signals sent from the lost broodmother and her swarm.
I must determine how far Amon's resurrection has advanced.
If his pawns could annihilate an entire brood so easily, then alliance was urgent. I might even need to persuade Kerrigan to delay her vengeance against the Dominion…
Szz!
Protoss psionics surged. At the first touch, Zeratul felt the world overturn.
ROAR—!
A massive beast loomed before him: mighty, deep blue, clad in white armor traced with azure streaks, four eyes gleaming, vast wings spread wide across the heavens.
Its sharp talons, sheathed in sapphire scales, tore apart not Zeratul, but the Overlord whose signal he traced. It ripped the brood's nerve center to shreds.
In moments, Zeratul's vision fractured a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times.
These were the death-cries of the Overlords, their psionic messages relayed to the broodmother's Leviathan, then passed stepwise to the Queen of Blades' network.
Zeratul felt hundreds of thousands of Zerg snuffed out at once. Then—all went dark.
A searing light erupted, dazzling as a star's death. Vision smothered in white, sight overwhelmed, nothing remained but suffocating brilliance.
The Leviathan severed the link. The Swarm severed the link.
The vast psionic web of broodmother Gloria's swarm collapsed visibly in an instant. Only scattered flickers remained—dozens, then fewer—and even these soon guttered out.
This was no Zerg. Nor Protoss. Zeratul judged swiftly.
A Protoss bioweapon? Impossible. Outside the Dark Templar, the hidebound Protoss factions lacked such audacity.
Zerg? Even less so.
Humans?
Zeratul shook his head, rejecting the thought. Absurd.
And yet, when he touched the last signal of broodmother Gloria's swarm—
"Humans?!"
In the Leviathan's chamber, Zeratul's green eyes snapped open, burning with disbelief.
Calm. Be calm. He crushed down the turmoil, steeling his will.
Who were they?
The final fragments replayed.
With the great Zerg slain, even the broodmother gone, only faint scraps remained. Their signals were jagged, broken. But they painted an image:
Silver-armored soldiers storming ashore. Blades cleaving chitin as if paper. Explosions of violet-red energy. Steel titans stalking the void. Crimson lances flaring. Darkness lit by fire.
Zeratul had forced the broken signals into coherence with his psionic gift.
He staggered from the chamber, whispering, then groaning, "Terrans? No… not quite. But the double-headed eagle is undeniably a human symbol."
Jim Raynor's marines often painted such sigils on their gear and armor. Zeratul had seen it often.
"Could they be from the United Earth Directorate? Kerrigan, I do not understand your human symbols. But the golden double-headed eagle—it was the clearest mark I saw."
"The Terrans' ancestors came centuries ago from Earth, a colonial fleet abandoned by its government. Our culture has long since faded or been replaced."
Kerrigan rose from her chamber as well. Her link to Protoss psionics had given her much insight, but her face was grave.
"I vaguely recall from old texts: whether one-headed or two, the eagle was a mark of mighty empires in human antiquity. And that blue-and-white beast…"
"That creature… a dragon?" Zeratul asked. "Of Earth?"
Kerrigan hesitated, then nodded.
"Kerrigan, we must rethink our strategy. If possible, I would try to speak with them."
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