WARNING: Major spoilers!

I might be slightly faster than most players at blazing through the campaign.

If you do not wish to have Legacy of the Void's plot spoiled for you, there is a channel called Alzu Gaming that has already uploaded (as of around mid-afternoon on the day of public release) a complete Let's Play of LoTV, so please watch that before reading (or play the game to the end) if you don't want the ending ruined!

StarCraft is property of Blizzard Entertainment, as is the cover image.

Joeray's Bar, Mar Sara

Jim Raynor awoke to the sun shining on his head through the window, and almost fell off the barstool. Typical. He'd fallen asleep at the bar again in the middle of his god-knew-how-many-th shot of whiskey. Yes, there was the bottle in front of him, the shot glass off to the side, his Marshal's badge in his left hand.

"Ugh..." his head was hurting as usual. But for some reason, today seemed different. The jukebox wasn't playing, for one. For another, Ray was nowhere to be found. Usually the bartender would have kept an eye on him if he let the former Marshal sleep in the bar. And for some odd reason, the picture of Sarah was not where it usually was, in his right hand, but pinned to the wall.

The headache was also bringing strange visions, though he wasn't sure if they were real or not. He tried to play them back as he'd received them.

Tychus had someone had his life sentence in New Folsom cut short and visited him with a proposition to get the Raiders' revolution back in gear: steal some ancient artifacts and sell them to the Dominion's leading science foundation, Moebius. The Zerg had invaded shortly afterwards, and he'd fled the planet aboard the Hyperion. In the midst of his revolution, he'd been visited by Crown Prince Valerian himself, who had told him of the true purpose of collecting the artifacts. Zeratul had also visited him and warned him of a rising evil named Amon who could only be stopped by Sarah. Then they had dove face-first into Char itself and somehow prevailed over the Zerg against all odds, and not killing Sarah but reverting her to her human self.

And then Tychus had pointed a gun at her head and ordered to kill Sarah by none other than Mengsk Senior himself. He'd had to shoot his best friend. The emperor himself had shown up, the Crown Prince sided with them, and they had been chased into Umoja and he had been captured by the Dominion. He'd seen nothing but the inside of a cell for weeks until he'd been broken out by Sarah. But all hadn't been well between them, for she had re-infested herself, at Zeratul's bequest no less, and had the Swarm at her beck and call again. He'd been so angered that he'd dumped her on the spot. And yet she had done nothing as he left. Then he'd walked in on a conversation that she was having with Valerian and Horner about sparing civilians. He couldn't remember exactly how, but he had given her a chance and they'd finally taken down Mengsk.

She had left him to seek out Amon after they made their peace with each other. Meanwhile Valerian had taken up the crown and shaped the dictatorship of his father into a budding democracy, appointing Matt Admiral of the Dominion fleet and putting Raynor in charge of all military forces among other assignments. No sooner had the dust settled than soldiers formerly assigned to protecting Moebius research facilities, as well as the Foundation's own private security forces, had started laying waste to Korhal. Of all people, Artanis had shown up, in a huge warship unlike anything he'd ever seen before, to stop the newly-declared Moebius Corps' rampage. For some reason, despite the Hierarch's help, they had then unified the scattered Dominion Armada into a proper fighting force and waged a running battle with invading Protoss warships. With no way to engage them in a straight-up fight, they had watched world after world burn to their foes. Then, the Protoss had abruptly halted their advance when they were on the cusp of total victory. Sarah contacted Valerian days later asking for assistance.

Apparently, the Golden Armada had returned home to Aiur because Artanis had attacked Amon, who had corrupted all Protoss bound by the Khala, there in a bid to banish him. It was successful, but the Fallen One was not dead. They had chased him to his home territory, where the shadows sapped at their existence and very ground rose up to defend its master. The last xel'naga had given its essence to Sarah, transforming her into one of their own and allowed her to strike Amon down. His death caused the collapse of the dimension, from which everyone had escaped but Sarah herself. She had stalled the collapse long enough for them to leave.

And he remembered that he'd forsaken all the fame and regalia that came with not only overthrowing Arcturus but also saving humanity from the corrupted Protoss. Ended up in the same state that his dream self had been in when this sequence of events started. Alone, with no friends or family, returning to exile in Backwater Station and using the drink to fill the holes their losses had left him with.

There was no way that could have all been real. Probably just another bout of drunk delusions of reclaiming some vestige of purpose in his life. At this point, he didn't care any more about money, power, fame, or even being a hero. All he wanted was a purpose in life. Something besides sitting around all day and drowning himself in liquor.

Ray walked in. "Hit the sauce hard again, didn't you?" He flipped the television on and it started playing a UNN broadcast, which was showing a piece by Kate Lockwell. That confirmed it had been nothing but delusions again: If anything about his visions were true, Valerian would not keep any remains of his father's propaganda machine around, from the staff to the name of the news agency.

"Sure. What's with the silence in here? Ain't like you to not work to a little music."

"You hit it that hard to not remember? You carted it off on that ship of yours. Which reminds me: when the Hyperion goes to the breakers' yard, I want it back." Jim blinked. The jukebox was indeed gone from its usual spot. He also noticed the image on the television was much clearer and less staticky than he remembered.

On cue, Ray unmuted the audio. "...Admiral Matthew Horner reaffirmed his support of the new Dominion government, and expressed his optimism for the latest rounds of peace negotiations with the unified Protoss..."

His headache intensified, and with it came a fair amount of bitterness. So it had been real. All of it. And other memories that he hadn't bothered to specifically conjure up that filled the spaces in between. Ray helpfully put a pair of aspirin tablets on the bar, along with a glass of water, before leaving again.

So he'd left the militia that he'd founded, and his position of authority, over losing Sarah again. He didn't like being in charge much, but the Dominion had needed him to rebuild and he had left. To think that he had done that brought on disappointment that he'd never know. Abandoned his purpose for the sake of grieving. While that was understandable, he'd hung on to her when he knew she was dead, unlike before when he'd had the faintest glimmer of hope that one day she might be redeemed. Sarah Kerrigan was gone for good this time.

The UNN report continued on about how the Dominion economy was turning around and ended with a speech by Valerian promising a new age of prosperity before cutting to commercial. Jim glanced over at the wall where all of his old memorabilia was pinned.

The most recent addition, on top of an old Wanted poster from his days as an outlaw, was a wooden picture frame lined with photos of the Raiders.

"Hearts and minds, man...just like you always said."

"You know, Matt...someday you're going to wind up leading this bunch of misfits."

"Oh, no. That's what I keep you around for, sir."

Jim's eyes shifted to another old photo, peeking out from behind a drawing Johnny had made for him and another Wanted poster, this one of Dominion issue.

A UNN reporter had the photo of the Heaven's Devils back in the days of the Guild Wars. That reporter had been executed later, from what he'd heard, and was a friend of Michael Liberty, whom Jim would later cross paths with as a Son of Korhal. Funny how fate tied people together like that.

They may have all passed out of his life years ago, but he remembered them vividly. On the far right was Hank Harnack, who had followed him from Shiloh and gone from the neighborhood bully to good friend, with a love for all things fire-related. His power suit had even been customized with thick plating and flamethrowers. Then came Max Zander, a slum boy who had been a source of inspiration to Jim to do the right thing long after their time together passed. Instead of splurging the money Tychus' scheme earned them, he bought food to give to the poor, and had died because their corrupt colonel shot him while he was dragging a civilian out of the line of fire. Behind him was Connor Ward, the largest of the group by far, who had joined when his family had been wiped out by a Combine airstrike on Tyrador VIII and used a pair of shoulder-mounted rocket launchers in addition to a turret's cannon. Despite his hatred, he never let that show when he was outside of combat, something Raynor admired him to the end for. On top of Ward's weapon was Hiram Feek, the civilian genius behind the Thunderstrike suit. He'd gone through so much trouble for them with nothing to gain in the end; by disabling the kill switches in their armors, he'd earned a brutal death at the hands of the bounty hunter Daun. Of all the friends whom that maniac had killed, Feek's death troubled Jim the most for that reason.

On the right was the platoon medic, Lisa Cassidy. She'd been forced into spying for Colonel Vanderspool as a result of her addiction to crab. But any anger he might have felt towards her had died a long time ago, both after seeing Tychus' reaction to her death and realizing that she had been blackmailed. Cassidy became the first in a line of women in his life who'd been played by others. Jim may not have gotten to know her as well as the other Heaven's Devils, but her situation was, now that he thought about it, a big reason why he saw something in Sarah Kerrigan and November Terra that nobody else had: a human. And then, there was Ark Bennet, or, as he preferred to be called, Ryk Kydd. He had a hell of an aim with a sniper rifle, and had saved Jim and his friends with his skills more than once. While he had taught Jim some tricks to improve his own aim, skills that would come in handy when he switched to the MK XII commando rifle for the Char campaign, Kydd's lasting legacy had been to inspire Jim's famous words: "We are who we choose to be." And indeed, he was the epitome of that. Born as a tycoon's heir and shanghaied into the Confederate Marine Corps, he not only ended up renouncing his old life and biological family, but found a niche for himself in the platoon. Who would have imagined the pampered descendant of the Old Families would become the most proficient user of the BOSUN FN92 in the sector? Admittedly, Kydd's life after deserting left Jim guilty about not offering him a position as a partner-in-crime too, as he'd become a contract killer by the time Daun hunted him down, but the change the young man had wrought upon himself was his lasting inspiration and what helped Jim believe in his ability to reform at the end of his criminal career.

And, of course, at the center of the picture, were him and Tychus. Like with Cassidy, he couldn't bring himself to hate his friend for what he'd done, even if he tried to. And he certainly didn't. He'd originally been sentenced to death, and his sentence was commuted to life in cryogenic storage instead. Jim didn't know if Mengsk had thought so far ahead as to pardon him before he'd even met the dictator-to-be, but clearly someone recognized his importance enough to keep him alive.

"I made a deal with the devil, Jimmy...She dies, I go free."

Many had questioned his decision to shoot Tychus. It wasn't until Amon had shown his hand and his crew had seen for themselves that Sarah was the key to stopping him that the rumors had completely stopped.

But while saving the sector had been on his mind at the moment, it wasn't the primary reason he'd done it. Jim's eyes settled on the vidsnap of Sarah from their days as Sons of Korhal, pinned atop the Dominion Wanted poster.

He remembered it now. He'd pinned it there when he and Tychus had left the bar. With a means to get his revolution started again, he had a better purpose than preserving the memory of a woman forgotten by the rest of society, and he'd left that behind as proof of it. They'd also gotten permission from Ray to borrow his jukebox. Matt had been extremely irritated at having to bring it aboard while the Hyperion was fending off Zerg attacks, and it didn't work perfectly since Tychus had torn it off its mounts and tried to throw it at him, even though Swann had done a masterful job of repairing it.

That was why he'd refused to simply end himself during those four long years. Because nobody else would have seen the woman trapped inside the Queen of Blades like he would have. A pathetic type of preservation, to be sure, but it had paid off in the end.

"You will hold her life in your hands. And though justice demands that she die for her crimes, only she can save us."

Without him, Amon might have succeeded after all. And more than just those who had perished in the struggle would have died in the apocalypse.

"Zeratul...how did you know about my role in all this?" The Dark Templar would take the answer to that question with him. Regardless of the answer, his efforts and sacrifice were not in vain, though Jim disagreed with his methods at times. Without his guidance, Sarah might not have infested herself again. He was far past being upset about that, but the crushing sense of anger and betrayal when he'd thought he'd seen the ghost only to blink again and see the Queen of Blades standing before him on the Moros would haunt him to the end of his days.

But then, if she hadn't taken the power of Zerus, Amon might be able to prevent her from claiming it were she to return. With a being of such power and with such vast armies at his disposal, it was difficult to rule out any alternate scenarios that came to mind. Nevertheless, while Jim was satisfied that things had played out and that they had won, the question always nagged at him.

Was there a better way?

If he had changed some of his own decisions, might the same outcome have come to pass without the same cost?

The warriors that died in battle never had to answer those questions. At times like this, Jim envied them. There was no lingering question of what to do with their life after war, no constant reflection upon why they had survived when others hadn't, no reminiscence of comrades lost in their stead.

He sighed and dropped his gaze to his Marshal's badge. He hadn't even bothered to pick up the position again since his return to Mar Sara. There was really nothing to protect people from anymore. A mere criminal would be no match for anyone who was prepared for warfare of the type the system had been subject to for the last decade. He'd even given his trusted revolver to Matt as a parting gift. He was, for the first time, truly without a purpose in life.

Before the second Zerg invasion, he'd had a cause to cling to, however hopeless it seemed. And before then, he'd been young enough to have the optimism to start over and had the fortune of meeting Liddy.

But now, with the Protoss and Terrans drawing ever-closer, the Zerg content to keeping away from both, a just and upright government in control, and without even family or friends left to look for, he had nothing. Even his role as Sarah's guardian had expired, both with Amon's defeat and her death.

The door opened, and the usual breeze blew in, carrying its usual quantity of dust. Yet, something was different. Instead of its usual rust-red, it was pale yellow and caught the light like gold. Jim turned to face the newcomer and his jaw dropped as he saw a very familiar scarlet ponytail blowing in the breeze. The usual pair of silver goggles that held them in place like a tiara were gone, but he wouldn't have needed that to confirm the sight in front of him.

"You about ready to get out of here, cowboy?"

He hadn't heard that voice in years. Not in this way. Spoken from her physical mouth rather than thought, unaltered by the echoing tones the Zerg gave her and all xel'naga possessed, untouched by bitterness and anger like it had been on Umoja, or panic like it had been that fateful day on Tarsonis.

For the first time since his return, Jim chuckled and broke out into a smile. He briefly looked over at the various relics of his past on the wall, and he knew what all of his friends, but especially Tychus, would have to say.

"Hell...It's about time." He set the badge down, faceup for once, and slid off the barstool. Without pausing or looking back, he stepped outside and the door shut behind him.

No longer did he have to set his badge facedown out of shame. His job as a protector was complete, and he had succeeded. The badge that symbolized his responsibility was fading into time behind him just as that responsibility was. And the posters, photos, and artifacts hung on the wall that immortalized those who had fought beside him would, too, to remind others of their existence once he was gone.

Now, in an age of peace, a warrior like him had no true purpose. But he was not just a warrior. He was also a lover.

And with a goddess as his lover, he had a purpose for all eternity.

The light outside was unusually bright, and Jim noticed that a fair amount of it was emanating from Sarah herself. But that didn't stop him from taking in a sight he would never grow tired of despite how often he saw her in a ghost suit.

She chuckled. "I'm still a telepath, and you're still a pig. But now, Jim, you're my pig." She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Forever."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." As he returned the embraced he felt her body heat grow warmer and envelop him.

Suddenly, they had appeared in an entirely different setting. They were now in the midst of what could have once been a great plain, but was now dust. There was an atmosphere that felt breathable to Jim, and the star's light and warmth were less harsh than Mar Sara's.

"Sarah, where are we?"

"A world called Gohbus. The planet was colonized by Terrans until a terraforming accident in the early days of the Dominion nearly destroyed it. The crust has healed and the core stabilized since then, but all life was wiped out."

"So...what are we doing here?"

In response, she reached behind her neck and triggered her suit's quick release, smirking as she read his reaction.

"Seeding this world with life."

Author's Note: While Sarah is indeed a xel'naga, they can take different forms, as Narud, Ouros, and others members of said race proved. Why don't we just roll with that in case I put more fluff scenes later on, eh?

On another note, this will probably be the last StarCraft fic I write for the foreseeable future, save maybe some more fluff scenes that I might add to this. I've started on a massive project with Flying Chariot and school is only getting harder. I apologize to all of those who have been awaiting a rewrite of my older fics, but I don't think it will happen because I currently have three fics to finish and my interest in the series is effectively null now that it's technically over.