Kerrigan's gaze was fixed on the creator of the Swarm, the Xel'Naga, whose hand seemed capable of crushing galaxies. When she saw the familiar figure pulled through a spatial rift by the giant's fingertip, her expression turned grim.
"...Jim."
Seeing Jim Raynor struggling between the Xel'Naga's colossal fingers, completely unprotected and exposed to the vacuum of space, Kerrigan bit her lip instinctively.
"Wha… Where am I? Space?!"
Just a moment ago, he had been in the detention zone aboard an Inquisitor's ship, being coerced into signing a series of unfair treaties. In the next instant, the Inquisitors had suddenly raised their arms toward the viewport, shouting in some eerie, fanatical chant—and Jim Raynor felt the world spin violently around him.
The trembling and inversion of space-time left his mind blank, his soul seemingly on the verge of being torn apart.
...
When consciousness returned to his body, Jim Raynor found himself suspended in deep space. Before his eyes stretched the figure of a celestial goddess—mesmerizing crimson, dreamlike gold, and serene deep blue—all colors woven together into a cosmic deity, cruel and beautiful.
That silhouette—!
"...Empress."
Jim Raynor stood still for a long time. That outline, that structure built of countless elements—it was the very same symbol he had seen most often aboard Imperial Navy warships: murals, sculptures, oil paintings—innumerable depictions.
A few purple-gold ships, their prows gleaming, advanced into the dark tides of purple and black. They were the remnants of the Swarm fleet—scarred, shattered, their numbers decimated.
One modified assault ship led the way, its heavy armor marred by the traces of Zerg attacks. The dense, piercing spines embedded in its surface were like white scars, silently narrating its honor.
They passed before the celestial goddess in reverent formation, as if returning victorious from battle, presenting themselves before their sovereign for inspection.
It felt as if countless souls were crying out in unison within Jim Raynor's mind, radiating a silent, overwhelming pressure—a declaration of divine authority.
This was no being of this world. It was the creator—the Xel'Naga, the Goddess of Honkai.
Jim Raynor felt his soul bow under the weight of its gaze, crushed by awe.
But soon, he noticed something else.
Before him lay the corpse of a Leviathan.
It was familiar—comparing it with the carcasses of lesser beasts floating nearby, Raynor's seasoned eyes quickly gauged its scale. Nearly thirty kilometers in length.
The sight overwhelmed his fear with emotion.
A massive breach yawned open in the Leviathan's carapace. Within the hollow interior, a familiar silhouette caught his eye. At that moment, he no longer cared how his eyesight had suddenly sharpened so drastically—he could only shout:
"Sarah!"
Her hair had returned to its segmented, fibrous structure, yellow strands draping over her head. Her purple eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks gaunt, her lips cracked and dry.
So thin, so frail—her posture lacked the once-dominant poise of the Queen of Blades. The stubborn defiance on her face kept Jim Raynor from uttering any words of blame.
It was all because of him. Captured by Arcturus' lackeys at the crucial moment, he hadn't been there when she needed him. Alone and desperate, she had faced impossible enemies—and for love or vengeance, she had chosen the only path left to her.
"Sarah! Do what you believe is right!"
Jim Raynor roared. With the help of someone's cruel amusement, his voice crossed the vacuum of space.
The man had made the worst choice. And what about you—did you make the right one?
Selene saw the flicker of joy and hope on Kerrigan's face upon seeing Jim Raynor, as well as the guilt and unwillingness that followed.
"..."
Kerrigan stood in silence, hatred and rage roiling within her chest, fermenting like aged wine that only grew stronger with time. Her once-alluring face now darkened, stormy as a sky before thunder.
Anger and hatred.
As the Primal Queen of Blades, she had absorbed the essence of the Primal Zerg on Zerus, sorted through the legacy and gifts left behind by the Overmind, and listened to Zeratul's warnings. All of it made her realize that an unseen hand had always guided the birth and evolution of the Zerg—and even her own fate.
She had inherited all that the Overmind once possessed, along with glimpses of distant past memories.
In the early, fragile consciousness of the newborn Overmind, it had faced the will of its so-called Creator—Amon—with helpless despair. Its roars and cries of defiance still echoed across time. It had sworn to seek a way to resist the annihilation of the Zerg—to defy its manipulated destiny.
Kerrigan knew well—that possibility lay in herself.
As the new Overmind of the Swarm, she too longed to break free from control. But reality reminded her cruelly: once the Creator descended, she could not even struggle against her own fate.
Always, she and her kind were but pawns to those higher-dimensional beings, toyed with endlessly. She had had enough of this mockery.
That truth made her hands tremble with helplessness. Even in her fading consciousness, she thought of defying fate in one final act of self-destruction.
But she couldn't. Her greatest weakness—perhaps her only one—was standing right before her eyes.
Thud! Thud!
"I'll let you do as you wish… just please, don't hurt Jim…"
As though all her strength had drained away, Kerrigan collapsed between herself and the starry goddess, falling to her knees. Bowing her head, her final glance seemed to carve Selene's visage deep into her mind. Her defiant voice trembled from her throat.
"Boring. But an entirely correct choice."
Selene spoke each word clearly and deliberately.
She recognized that look.
Have you ever seen a wolf in the wild? When a person is pushed past the limits of agony, they, too, can have the same eyes.
And in those eyes burned hatred—pure, absolute.
"Sarah Louise Kerrigan, it seems you've misunderstood something. You should be thankful to that Xel'Naga who guided your life. The fact that you're still alive is merely its compensation to you."
Crackle—!
"Sarah!"
Jim Raynor was thrown by Selene to land before Kerrigan.
"Jim, I'm sorry, I—ahhh—!"
Kerrigan reached out her hand; for an instant, it seemed the two might finally reunite. Then thunder crashed across the stars. Violet-red lightning surged through the nebula, and a massive pillar of light descended from the heavens, engulfing them both. Kerrigan screamed in agony.
The lightning was followed by a deafening roar that seemed to split the cosmos itself. The resulting shockwave slammed Jim Raynor to the ground.
"No! No! I've already made a deal with your people! I'll leave the Raiders—I swear I'll never oppose your Empire again—"
"Incredible. How kind I have been—no hostility, no coercion, no crushing display of might—and yet you truly thought I would kill you? Do you think you're worth my attention?"
Selene turned her head toward him, her eyes glimmering with light.
She spoke the truth. Strictly speaking, Jim Raynor held no real interest for Selene. The Protoss were of some interest—half a curiosity. Kerrigan herself barely qualified as such. It was, perhaps, a faint collector's instinct at play, but hardly a strong one.
More than that, she was merely fulfilling a request—one made by the last of the Xel'Naga, Ouros. Her true body still drifted beyond the cosmic void, but she had extended her awareness here to take a look.
After all, if Hak Foo had really gone through with killing Kerrigan, it would have been… unsightly.
In a sense, Ouros had succeeded. His decisive self-sacrifice had won Selene's favor.
I have appearances to keep, after all.
And when Selene agreed to something that cost her little and inconvenienced no one, she was generous enough to honor it. Besides, she had matters to discuss soon—with that reckless brute Hak Foo and the indolent salary-thief Borsalino.
Soon, the violet light faded. Within it lay something that faintly resembled a peeled pomegranate—quiet and motionless.
Moments passed.
Sssskkk—
Then, as if alive once more, a sleek, radiant mermaid emerged from the shell.
"Sarah…" Jim Raynor called out nervously.
"Hmm…" Selene tilted her head slightly. "Not bad. Quite the figure."
Selene studied Kerrigan for a moment. "Hm. Not bad."
"Wha… what is this…?"
Kerrigan raised her hand and touched her face. The bone spines that once writhed like Medusa's hair were gone, replaced by smooth, fiery-red locks of hair. She looked up at the starry sky, confused. "What does this mean?"
"Sometimes," Selene said, her voice echoing across the void, "even being deemed worthy to serve as a pawn can be considered a kind of fortune."
Those eyes—brighter than any star—rested upon Kerrigan, who had regained her human form.
With a mere thought, Selene caused the familiar psionic bodysuit of Kerrigan's Ghost operative days to form over her new, tender skin.
"This is Ouros' compensation to you. Kerrigan, for his sake, I'll overlook your insolence this time. As for your title of Queen of the Swarm—you will hold it no longer. Restrain your brood. I have other plans for you later."
"I will end the Xel'Naga's ancient policy of non-interference in the endless cycle. A new era is coming. What you choose to become—ally or wanderer—I am curious to see. I hope that someday, in the Imperial rolls of merit and knighthood, I will see your name…"
"…and not on the list of executions."
As for whether leaving Kerrigan her Swarm but stripping her of the Queen's title might lead to rebellion—Selene did not care. It was beneath her concern.
Such things were but trifles. Petty itches.
Rebellion in new colonies? Perfectly normal.
In truth, across the vast Empire, newly conquered and developing colonial worlds were always rife with turmoil during their integration. Some were small conspiracies of a few men, others vast planetary uprisings spanning continents and star systems.
Judging by the sheer number of incidents, one might think the Empire was perpetually on the verge of collapse.
Consider, for instance, one provincial governor's rebellion.
The instigator was a spoiled noble's son—born to privilege, the only child of an aging father who adored him beyond reason.
When the Empire arrived, the father had wisely surrendered immediately. He did everything asked of him, kept his world intact, and was allowed to rule as a planetary governor—his kingship reduced to a title under Imperial authority.
Aside from the name change, the difference was negligible. New monumental structures rose, taxes were paid, regiments raised to serve in the Imperial wars. Otherwise, under Imperial law and courtesy, the local ruler remained a near-autocrat—so long as he observed the proper formalities when visited by officials, Inquisitors, or tax collectors.
But not long after assuming office, the old governor died—perhaps from shock, perhaps from exhaustion. The Empire, merciful in its inheritance laws, granted the title to his son.
Soon after, the young governor took offense at returning common soldiers who, having earned honors in Imperial service, no longer bowed to him. In fury, he ordered their execution. The tension escalated, and before long, he raised the banner of restoration.
He died for it—publicly executed by dismemberment, his entire family exterminated. Tens of thousands perished. More were exiled to frontier death worlds.
Though such rebellions made up a mere fraction of Imperial society, the Empire's sheer size made their frequency inevitable. Selene had long since grown accustomed to it.
When the forest is vast, strange birds are bound to nest within. Rebellion during the growing pains of rule was only natural.
Now, Selene wondered idly: without her weakness, would Kerrigan—the once lovestruck Zerg Queen—dare to rebel?
Snap!
With a flick of her fingers, the celestial goddess' light grew even more radiant and solid. In an instant, the three thousand Black Templar Terminators still aboard the Leviathan were whisked away.
When Selene's terrifying shadow finally faded from sight, the Leviathan lay silent. Jim Raynor and Kerrigan stood side by side, gazing upon the dead Swarm and the approaching Imperial Navy fleet. The massive warships dragged their grappling lines, closing in on the spatial rift leading to Char.
For a long time, neither spoke.
At last, Kerrigan murmured, "Thank you, Jim."
"It's what I should've done anyway… though I hardly did anything. I'm just a prisoner."
He paused, his face twisting with bitterness. "Arcturus is dead—his head taken. Korhal has fallen. The Terrans will be directly ruled by the Sacred Selene Empire. Sarah… we should leave the Koprulu Sector…"
"Brother Raynor… if your intent is to flee our God's dominion, that is impossible."
The sudden voice cut through his words.
It was Zeratul—standing beside him was Artanis.
"Zeratul… and Artanis? You came here? Were the Protoss attacked by the Empire too?"
"No."
Artanis shook his head. "Aiur has been reclaimed. We have taken back our homeworld. And our God has returned to the universe. I came here only to warn you—the new age is upon us."
Zeratul, who already knew the truth of Aiur's restoration, narrowed his eyes and fixed his solemn gaze on Jim Raynor.
"Brother Raynor, the Creators—the Xel'Naga who once ruled the stars and sowed life across the cosmos—are returning."
"The betrayal of the fallen Xel'Naga led our God to declare that the age of non-interference in the endless cycle has ended. The new order—where divinity guides the living—has begun."
"You know what this means."
"In this universe, there will be no place, no being, no world that can escape the new order. You will either submit… or die. The United Earth Directorate will be no exception."
"I do not wish to raise my hand against you, my friend."
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