It was the final battle for the fate of all the known universe. Three races, once embittered with constant war and strife amongst themselves, banded together to face their true enemy, the dark xel'naga Amon. Fleets of Protoss, Terran, and Zerg had crippled the Dark God's forces and pursued him into the void, a tenebrous realm filled with black and crimson shadow. Their current united purpose was to protect one Sarah Kerrigan as she ascended to become a xel'naga herself, a being of unmatchable power capable of destroying Amon's existence. So far, the allied forces held the high ground, an advantageous position for defense.

"Remain focused, my friends."

In the strange floating islands within the dark plane, Praetor Goldarin bravely called to the ranks of his fellow zealots behind him. Together, they charged the scores of enemies created from the reddish black fog, all of them mimicking the structure of units from the allied forces. The high ranked Protoss noted from shorthand experience that there seemed to be a small interval of time for the 'void entities' to form before attacking, and so he led his warriors to periodically raid into the shadowy fog in order to capitalize on that weakness.

Blue Psi-blades thrumming with the fierce ardor instilled in all Templar, Goldarin slashed through several nebulous phantoms in his rush, dispersing them before they could gain shape. He and his zealots dispersed many of the wave of rising shadows, but not all. As with every clash so far, there were casualties, although this time thankfully few in number. Upon spotting a formation of banshees, Terran flying strike ships, forming from the darkness, Goldarin quickly led his surviving zealots back. Their blades had no chance at striking foes in the sky. They reached their previous uphill area, untouched by the dark crimson fog. When their airborne enemies pursued them, they were stuck down from the skies by a wall of photon cannons, automated defenses of Protoss design.

Now, the surviving Templar contingent stood by the nearest Protoss base, awaiting transmissions from the invisible observers for the most optimal time to begin their next assault. Goldarin himself stood by a robotics bay, watching as a grievously wounded zealot from the most recent charge was removed from his power suit. He was a comrade who had shared many battles with him, and unlike the standard zealot, had been clad from head to clawed toe in gold and blue armor and wielded a Solarite Reaper instead of a pair of psi-blades, a mark of those who were sealed long ago to guard the legendary arkship The Spear Of Adun. As the injured Templar was carefully lowered into a cockpit of a large war machine, he transmitted a thought to Goldarin.

"Take my weapon Praetor, it serves me no longer. I know you will wield it with honor."

Silent in respect of his friend's determination to keep fighting, Goldarin reached over the pile of bright discarded armor and hefted the broad double-edged poleaxe with both hands.

"It seems I am now redeployed with the rest of the robotic walkers to support our noble Hierarch Artanis further to the south. It is an endeavor that fills with me with flaming anticipation."

With a hiss, the hull of the tall machine sealed shut, the inside filling itself with a sterile nutrient solution saturated with microscopic machines as special tubing attached itself to the new pilot.

"But make no mistake, it was my honor to serve under you in battle."

Almost immediately after, the legs and twin phase disruptors powered on, completing the zealot's transformation into an immortal. The mobile cybernetic walker was then enveloped in a blinding white light, an indicator of an active warp field.

"And it will be my honor again."

It was a promise to meet once more, Goldarin recognized as he saw his friend disappear. The Praetor then heard the mental broadcast from an observer detailing new emerging enemies, and rushed out the technological facility. Quickly organizing his troops, he led a charge anew. It would prove an offensive much more taxing than the last. Most of the phantoms survived the initial charge and metamorphosed into giant Terran mobile siege walkers, the Thors. Although the Protoss ground regiment had new support from a force of towering colossi firing their thermal lances from afar atop a plateau, it wasn't enough. Throngs of heavily injured Zealots roared dying screams as the crystal matrices on their power suits flared and warped them to safety, where they could hopefully be saved.

Kerrigan was very close in her apotheosis. Goldarin could feel the outpour of celestial energies from behind him, pooling around the Zerg matriarch. It seemed Amon and his shadow creatures could sense this as well, and now where pouring the last of their strength in an all out onslaught to stop her. More and more void creatures formed from the nothingness, far outpacing the rate in which they were slain. Suddenly, from hundred of meters in front of the Praetor opened a spacious unnatural portal bordered with a blazing circle of fire. If one peered into it, they would see nothing but pure darkness that no light could illuminate. From the portal emerged a creature that dwarfed even the mighty Colossi, one that Goldarin could sense a deafening amount of psionic potential from. It was a levitating creature with floating tentacles below the waist area, and several scythe-like tendril appendages extending from its upper body and back. It possessed five eyes on each side of its face, magenta crag-like skin separated by glowing purple veins. The creature was what the allied forces called a 'Void Thrasher'. Regarded as the strongest and most dangerous of Amon's remaining forces, the monstrosity could fire across battlefields, thus attack Kerrigan without the need to penetrate all the defenses to reach her position. Earlier in the battle, several of these had arisen, only to be struck down almost instantly by the Queen of Blades using her steadily rising powers. Only, as Goldarin saw no beam of golden light annihilate the creature, he knew something was wrong...or that something was right. The praetor sensed the influx of xel'naga power peaking; Kerrigan must be transcending her existence very soon. Squashing the demur he felt over protecting someone who was once one of the worst enemies of the Protoss, Goldarin suddenly roared to all Protoss minds he could reach.

"Brothers, slay the abomination before us!"

"We answer the call!"

Many of his surviving zealot comrades responded. Boosting his digitigrade legs, the Praetor understood that Kerrigan must succeed, or else they were all doomed. As he sprinted, he observed artillery shells exploding across its body, damaging the Void Thrasher's natural shielding. The monstrous behemoth's massive height caught the attention of far away Terran siege tanks perched on a distant ridge, which immediately had begun firing at it. However, the high-ranked Templar could see a convergence of destructive energy coalesce at the beast's mouth as its shielding shrugged off most of the damage it was receiving. Spurring his battle-worn body ever faster, he and his small platoon of zealots were met with legions of forming shadows, all of which seemed to understand the group of Templar's intent, and purposefully sought to defend the titan. As rows of void creatures began spawning behind the brave zealots as well, they knew they had crossed far passed the depth of the void where return would be nigh impossible. That realization only stirred their warrior hearts higher, of course.

More and more zealots fell, their suits warping back to a safe location, or had their momentum blunted by the myriad of surrounding creatures. In the end, only Goldarin remained, sprinting while wildly spinning the Solarite Reaper with both hands, cutting down foes left and right. It was a technique the Praetor had observed his friend execute many times in battle while wielding the weapon. In the rapidly shortening distance, the last charging Templar could see that the mass of dark energies hanging by the Void Thrasher's mouth exceed half its gargantuan size, a fact that made Goldarin restless. The exuding aura from the beast's attack seemed as if it was crushing him to the floor, yet he held on. At the same time, the zealot noticed that the artillery fire had left the monster's shields flickering in weakness. The tanks had stopped attacking afterwards, having been destroyed by an ambush of aerial void broodlords from the cover of the overhead dark fog.

Reaching the foot of the monster and pouring as much energy into his legs as possible, Goldarin wasted no time in performing the spinning technique, but this time in an upward leap. As he rose into the air, the praetor's storm of swings had fizzled out the Void Thrasher's shield, to which the beast ignored, all of its attention focused on a levitating fiery figure in the far distance, one that was constantly glowing brighter. Finding a foothold on a tentacle near the beast's abdomen, Goldarin leapt upward again. In the apex of his jump, he hung directly above of the mass of void energies, almost losing all control over his senses by the close proximity alone. With only thoughts of stopping the void monstrosity's attack, the Praetor swung his double-edged poleaxe downward with his full strength.

When the ancient Solarite blade portion of weapon came into contact with the dark energies, there seemed to be a repulsion effect. The massive ball of Void fell onto the beast, parts of it absorbed into its mouth. The Void Thrasher seemed to choke at this unexpected occurrence before its entire torso exploded in a immense shockwave of dark power in all directions. The lower body of the beast slammed downward, catching the rim of the portal and set aflame by the ring of fire before slowly slumping and falling into it. As for the Praetor, the blast had launched him skyward, his body flailing limply all the while. The shockwave of void energies had seemed to collide and pass through the Templar. He sensed that some of the void energies had somehow...melded within him, and besides almost having no feeling in his body, he could feel his three hearts beating erratically, an obvious sign of fatal internal injuries for a Protoss. Yet, the monitors in his power suit had not initialized recall, and after painfully craning his neck to glance at his armor, Goldarin knew why. The carefully infused gemstones, the crystal matrices, all crackled in a small black outline.

"Surely damaged beyond repair."

The zealot reasoned solemnly. Then he struggled in turning his head to look at the weapon clasped in a deathgrip in his right hand, and was surprised at the result. Miraculously, the ancient weapon wasn't damaged, but was glowing in a strange shadowy aura. Regardless, the zealot knew his death was at hand. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. His drifting thoughts led him to a saying all Protoss were instructed to utter before death:

"I am now one with the Khala."

Why, that wasn't exactly true anymore, was it? Goldarin faintly remembered the reclamation of Aiur, where all Protoss who still had nerve cords had cut them, severed their connection to the Khala, a communal Psionic link between almost all Protoss. It was a place where the spirits of deceased warriors would go, which now fundamentally didn't exist.

There wasn't much passion to be garnered in a broken body. Before the loss of the Khala, Goldarin had often pondered where the Protoss peoples of Nerazim and Tal'darim went after death. As his senses took leave of him, the Praetor could only wonder...

"Where will I go?"

The zealot's eyes closed, his body falling headfirst into the portal from whence the Void thrasher came. Falling...into the dark abyss. After an uncertain amount of time, and hanging onto the verge of consciousness, Goldarin perceived snippets of a distant voice in his mind.

...The flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Go Chosen Undead, grasped from across the cosmos...


AN: Hmmm...actually, I could use this prologue as a segway for many different Starcraft crossovers, not just with dark souls. At any rate, I still have plans to continue this story at least.

Review/Fav/Follow pls :/ (Or all three)