Koprulu Sector, Aiur.
Aiur, the Protoss homeworld.
From orbit, this ancient world—witness to the rise and fall of Protoss history—was a verdant planet of clear seas and lush jungles.
Its atmosphere held moderate greenhouse gases, its orbit had little eccentricity. For countless eons, this thriving planet nurtured abundant life. Among them, the Protoss stood supreme.
But now, not a trace of them remained.
Only ruined Protoss cities, and Zerg hives sprawling across Aiur's wilds. Once a cradle of glory, Aiur had become a terrifying symbol of the Swarm's destruction.
Ash lay scattered, broken war machines and corpses marking the planet's fate.
In the daylight, the Swarm crawled through deserted ruins, massing in a giant crater that was once the jewel of a proud city—a grand lake, once teeming with tropical life. Now, corrupted by creep and infested nests, it had become a paradise for the Swarm.
On the sticky purple-black carpet, zerglings tumbled and played like pups in a mudpit. Drones bustled tirelessly, scavenging the ruins. Massive ultralisks lounged lazily, steaming breath hissing from their nostrils, basking in Aiur's sun while surrounded by swarms of smaller Zerg. Hydralisks coiled nearby, crimson tissue bristling.
Compared to Char—the current main Zerg hive world—where cosmic radiation seared, volcanoes spewed ash, and heat storms raged, Aiur's climate was pleasant, near paradise.
On Char, a harsh death world, the Swarm treated it as a furnace—tempering their bodies to grow ever stronger, honing claws and fangs to razor sharpness.
But Aiur was a resort.
Most Zerg lacked higher thought, driven only by instinct. Faced with such a pleasant environment, what else could they do but play?
In truth, Aiur was not valuable to the Swarm. Once local genetic material had been harvested, it offered little. Harsh worlds, not paradises, held true worth.
Yet they could not abandon it. The order to conquer and hold Aiur came from the Overmind itself.
A lingering legacy.
When the Overmind fell on Aiur, the Queen of Blades, not yet human again, withdrew her Swarm after seizing partial control. The Brood War followed—Aiur, Korhal, Char—waged in fire and fury.
The Swarm left behind on Aiur were forgotten.
Though Aiur remained nominally under Kerrigan's rule, none came here. Isolated, without unified command, Aiur's Zerg lingered, clinging to the Overmind's last will. They ignored their brethren's battles, living almost pastoral lives, basking in the sun.
Outside a few untouched regions, Aiur's lands had become a vast hatchery.
...
In orbit above Aiur, a vessel gleamed with gold and sapphire. Its streamlined design, metallic plating like gilded armor, sweeping curves, hidden conduits, and psionically glowing windows—all proclaimed it a Protoss ship.
Thud!
On the mothership's bridge, surrounded by golden and silver-armored Templar, Artanis's eyes burned with fury. He stared in silence at the high-resolution images before him.
The scanners showed parasite-like Zerg sprawled across majestic cities. Black-and-flesh-colored spires replaced golden domes. Creep and twisted biomass marred every surface.
That was their homeworld!
"Hierarch."
A voice turned him from the screen. The polished walls, like plated steel, reflected the young leader's visage.
Unlike Zeratul, always cloaked in shadow, Artanis was a true Aiur Templar. His nerve cords were intact—his bond to the Khala.
Aiur's Protoss revered gold, symbol of the sun.
His violet skin shone beneath golden Archon armor studded with azure Aiur crystals. Curved lines and sharp edges bore the elegance of Protoss design. Psionically charged wristbands allowed him to wield the luminous, deadly psi-blades.
Artanis looked over his brethren. Anger burned in their eyes—the fury of seeing their home defiled by the Swarm, yet powerless to reclaim it.
The loss of Aiur was an eternal wound.
But fortune hid in misfortune.
The desperate call to reclaim their homeworld had united them once more, rallying under Artanis's banner, gathering strength fueled by rage.
Now, the fleet stood ready.
It was time to retake Aiur!
Nodding, Artanis strode out from the bridge, Templar flanking him. At the mothership's edge, he gazed upon the fleet.
Arbiters, Oracles, Phoenixes, Carriers, Tempests, Void Rays, Purifier vessels—filled the orbit of Aiur.
Warp prisms gleamed, prepared to deliver legions of zealots and Templar to the surface.
This was the largest Protoss fleet assembled since their tribes divided and they lost Aiur.
Before all eyes, Artanis drew a deep breath. "Templar!"
"Once more, we stand at the crossroads of destiny. Today, we restore the honor of the Protoss!"
"Today, we rally anew! Today, we reclaim our home!"
The Templar roared in unison: "For Aiur! For the glory of the Firstborn!"
"May the Light of the Khala guide us," Artanis whispered as he gazed upon the homeworld so near.
From a warp prism, a slender Protoss with distinctly feminine features approached. "Fleet formation complete, Hierarch. Awaiting your command."
"Selendis, then begin—"
Szzzzt—!
Communications flared open. On the holoscreen appeared a figure in a heavy rust-red robe trimmed with dark fur. His violet skin was shadowed by sunken eyes, a long jaw, and eyes glowing faint green.
Zeratul.
"You must not launch the attack!"
"Zeratul…?"
"Traitor! Heretic! You dare show your face before us?!"
Unlike Artanis's thoughtful frown, Executor Selendis's fury was plain.
"Calm yourself, Selendis! I bring grave news! Artanis, listen—you must—"
BOOM—!
Thud-thud-thud-thud—!
"For Selene—!"
"Crush these crawlers!"
"There's a rare hybrid among them! Worth something. Don't smash his head—break the limbs if you can, try to capture him alive!"
The shriek of lasers, the roar of cannons, the buzz of chainblades, the crackle of disintegration fields, the hiss of thermal weapons, and the metallic shouts of warriors blended together, painting Zeratul's desperate plight.
Onscreen, he leapt and rolled, scrambling for cover. Explosive rounds shrieked past his head to burst against fleshy walls, showers of gore splattering the view.
He rolled hard—thud!—as a thunder hammer, gilded and set with a great ruby, slammed down. The bio-organic floor screamed and cracked, the massive purple-gold armored giant sinking into walls of pulsing tissue.
Crimson biomass splashed across Zeratul's face. He had no time to react, for searing beams rained down.
Hissss—!
Zerg shrieked as leaping zerglings flung themselves into the beams, burning to ash and dropping like torches. Zeratul vanished into shadow, darting through swarming broods, slipping from the Black Templars' execution squads for the moment.
Artanis demanded, "Zeratul, what are you doing? Those are gunshots! You fight humans? Why do the Zerg aid you? Have you allied with them against mankind? Do you know what you do?"
Questions fell like blades.
"No time to explain!"
"Artanis, hear me!"
Zeratul panted: "The final battle has come! The Dark God Amon returns—it is back! You must feel it: the tide of dark psionic waves sweeping from the void! Striking Aiur now blinds us to the true threat! Amon's wrath will consume the sector!"
Through ancient prophecy, Zeratul had traced Amon's shadow.
By plan, once he guided Kerrigan to Zerus, to claim the primal essence, he should have rushed to Artanis to warn the Daelaam gathering for Aiur's reclamation.
But plans go astray.
The loss of one of Kerrigan's broods, the hint of a looming darkness in psionic signals, her resolve to strike at Korhal for vengeance—all kept Zeratul at her side.
Kerrigan was the key to the prophecy of defeating Amon. Zeratul could not abandon her—and thus he was dragged into this.
Those he fought now did not seem like Amon's pawns, though their violet-red variant psionics carried a foul aura.
"Why should we trust you, heretic?! Because of your betrayal, Aiur fell!" Selendis spat her contempt.
It was inevitable. Zeratul's link to the Overmind had revealed Aiur's coordinates. Even now, the Protoss branded him heretic.
"This guilt I will never escape… but Selendis, Artanis, I know how to resist the darkness to come."
"You must believe me! Kerrigan is the key! She is hunted now, by what may be Amon's servants. Her plight is dire! I need your aid! Come to Korhal!"
He turned, eyes burning with urgency. The crisis on Korhal defied easy explanation. Even a veteran like Zeratul could not mask his turmoil.
"…Hhh." Artanis closed his eyes, shaking his head in regret.
"We have endured much together, Zeratul. But too many of our kin have given their lives for this hour. And she is the Queen of Blades. Do you know how many of us fell by her hand?"
To rescue her? Unthinkable. Emotion made it impossible.
"But—"
"Enough!"
Artanis turned away. Reason told him Zeratul's words held truth, but the momentum was unstoppable. The fleet stood on the brink. They could not turn back.
Zeratul, had your warning come hours earlier, perhaps…
"Executor, prepare for battle! For Aiur, for the glory of the Firstborn!"
"Yes!"
As warp prisms lit, the Khala shimmered—but mingled with it came a taint of violet-red.
Bzzzzm—!
The warp ignition sounded like doomsday's horn. Deep beneath Aiur, in ancient Xel'Naga halls, Amon's traps awoke.
Crack-crack—!
The sky seemed to tear. The stars ran red. A colossal silhouette stirred, roots in the cosmos, vast beyond reckoning.
Too vast…
The purple-red curtain bound the heavens. Zeratul's pupils shrank, horror written across his face as he cried:
"No—no! Just one step away!"
Onscreen, he saw corruption spread across Artanis's nerve cords, glowing spots of violet-red.
...
Korhal System.
As interstellar comms broke, Zeratul half-heard a vast, arrogant feminine voice echoing in his mind:
"Firstborn of God? So—you claim the title and expect me to babysit too…?"
Before he could parse the words, BOOM—!
"Protoss! If you will not fight, then at least stop forcing the Swarm to shield you!"
A mutalisk snatched Zeratul, curling to guard him. A storm rocket struck, tearing it apart midair, gore raining down.
From its dying maw came Zagara's rasp through psionic link:
"…Thanks." Zeratul's comm device crackled, damaged, his face heavy. But resolve returned.
"Zagara, ready my ship."
"What, planning to flee? Hmph. Relax. We Zerg aren't like humans or Protoss with schemes. Your ship's safe, drones guard it well."
"Contact Kerrigan. If the battle cannot be won—retreat. She must not fall."
Leaping down from the mutalisk, Zeratul's refractive blades ignited emerald. He melted into shadow, slipping toward the Leviathan's heart, where explosions thundered.
"I go to aid Kerrigan."
...
Within the Leviathan, collapsing caverns glowed with surging Honkai energy. Any Imperial soldier would have known it—the aura of Selene, stronger than ever.
Crackle-pop!
Flames devoured Zerg flesh. Beasts roared. Swarm matriarchs shivered. Purple-red fire blazed, lighting entire hatcheries, the air stinking of charred protein.
"Behold my Earthquake Fist!"
BOOM—!
"Antelope Leap!"
Thud!
"Black Tiger Skims the Vulture!"
Clang!
—
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