Death is nothing compared to vindication.
Konrad Curze, Bringers of Darkness
Vindication
The vision had come again.
Krishnan let the image overtake his consciousness. The burnt fields of Kalath faded away, and he once again found himself within one of the invaders' bodies, again on a world shrouded in twilight, within architecture that was certainly of no kalathi design. His eyes strained to see in the gloom and in the process of trying to find his way, the shaman turned to a window. He was no psychic...not like the invaders claimed to be, but he could sense their presence. A presence similar, but different. A presence more...raw. More alive.
He felt their fear that bordered on pain.
"Help!" a female voice called from the other side of the structure's walls. "Stop them before more die. Help us!"
Even now, Krishnan could appreciate the irony of the situation. Him being within one of the invaders' bodies notwithstanding, the idea that one of those...monsters would request help was incredible. Did he want to see them suffer? He wasn't sure, not even now. But he didn't enjoy watching these invaders, 'darker' and noticeably missing their bizarre appendages flee for their lives in the same way that the kalathi had fled for theirs. Fled from what had taken the lives of hundreds of thousands of his people and was now taking the lives of these dark beings.
It was what the few surviving bloodreavers called a colossus.
With a soft mechanical hum, the colossi's twin lances of fire aimed at the aliens' residence and fired. The walls melted in seconds, and those who were not instantly vaporized were reduced to heaps of rubble. Krishnan was not part of these beings 'network,' their "Khala," but even so, he felt their deaths. Lives snuffed out as instantly as his own people's. Innocent lives. And in a world that had lost its innocence in a moment, Krishnan wept for them.
One of the colossi turned and fired, levelling a second building, and soon all of the colossi were shooting at once, beams crossing through the air in a frenzied pattern. The cries of the invaders, now victims, rang through the air, carried over by whatever means they used to communicate. Cries that the shaman supposed were no different from his people's own really-he supposed the process of being burnt alive was universal to all species. And then...stillness. The colossi retreated.
As did his consciousness.
"The same vision again shaman?"
As sure as the rising of the moon or sun, Kumarak was there, watching over the shaman. The bloodreaver, one half of his body burnt and the other half succumbing to disease...he was still there. Always. Like their world...the only thing Krishnan supposed was eternal in this new unfriendly galaxy.
"The same," the kalathi answered, rising to his feet. "Always the same."
"And you think it's true?"
"I...don't know. Is it prophecy? Premonition? Or is it part of me asking for justice?"
"As long as justice is served in the end, I don't care."
Bloodreaver to the end...the shaman thought sadly. Such a shame...
Of course, there was more tragedy to it than that. It was incredible really, that any of the kalathi's warriors had survived their engagement with the invaders' war machines. They simply didn't have the technology to do any damage and running straight into their lances of fire had inflicted horrific casualties. Kumarak had survived somehow, albiet horrifically burnt...and then, much to his shame, had learnt that he was succumbing to an introduced disease, brought by the invaders. Krishnan had heard of such things, of kalathi succumbing to diseases on other continents that travellers had brought with them, but had never experienced them until now. It was a disease that was wrecking havoc amongst their 'tribe' (really just a group of kalathi that had banded together for mutual survival) and as the tribe numbered less than a hundred, it seemed they were standing on the precipice. The point of no return. The lances of fire had pushed them there and the invaders had left without waiting to see if their victims fell off.
"You know, I almost wish the...aliens were still here," the bloodreaver mused, watching a kalathi mother howl over one of the pyres that had been set up this morning (usually kalathi buried their dead, but necessity dictated that the bodies were burnt). "That way I could die in battle rather than succumb to this...disease." He turned to face the shaman. "But still, I am in good cheer. If your vision is true...well, death is nothing compared to vindication."
Krishnan remained silent. He had nothing left to say. Not to Kumarak anyway. Because while his fellow kalathi was entitled to his own opinion, he found himself less inclined to share it. Less and less each time he saw the vision.
Krishnan knew deep down that if his people survived, the kalathi couldn't stay confined to Kalath. The aliens...a term that hadn't existed in their vocabulary until recently...they'd come from somewhere. From the stars, or even beyond. And if they could travel between them, why couldn't his people? After years of civil war, after watching their civilization burn around them...it was all they could aspire to. What they had to aspire to. And hopefully, not be like the invaders before them. Not against other races, if they did exist, and not amongst themselves. Not anymore. Never again.
Perhaps death could be sweetened by vindication.
But in his hearts, the shaman hoped that continued existence could be vindicated as well.
A/N
Probably apparent given the first section, but this was inspired by the short story Colossus, specifically Aldrion's vision of the future. My first reaction was a kind of smug one, how after decimating the kalathi centuries ago, the protoss were suffering the same fate. Of course, as I realized soon after, that isn't an entirely fair comparison. The Kalath Intercession was a tragic mistake, whilst Armageddon is fully the Dark Voice's doing. And as such, I wrote the kalathi realizing this to an extent.