My defeat is assured.
The Protoss, who might have been the determinant for my ultimate success, are instead the instigators of my failure. My children are lost, broken, scattered before the armies that have moved in to destroy me. They think me evil, a menace, these long-lost siblings of mine. They think my children foul, abominations, horrible, twisted, sickening.
I am none of these things. My creations are none of these things. I have never wanted to destroy. I have only wanted to complete. The Protoss are impure without us, we impure without the Protoss. There cannot be true perfection until both Purity of Essence and Purity of Form are united. Our two races are merely halves of a whole. My only wish was to create that one being, that which would be the zenith of all life. The culmination of evolution, the dream of my creators realized.
Why do they hate me so? I ponder that question as I feel the hives' minds one by one go silent, falling under the rain of blades or hail of bullets. The latter belonged to the Terrans, a race of suitably weak creatures that were ripe for absorption. But I admit, I was wrong in that regard. They fight with resilience unheard of throughout the universe. From the ashes of every defeat, they rise up and fight back with twice the strength of that before. They mystify me, although I have learned much from my one true child, whom I placed higher in my favor than even the cerebrates. I have stacked the deck against my brethren through her; I hid my child well, so that if I were to be defeated, to fail, to even die, she would succeed me and lead the Swarm to its destiny even after my passing.
And she shall.
I have made much progress on Auir. The rulers of this planet, the Conclave, had banished the only ones who could damage me: the ones they call Dark Templar. The energies they wield are…different…than the ones the primary sect of the Protoss. How so, I cannot say. Only that I felt it as they struck down Zasz. I was paralyzed by it, unable to revive my fallen cerebrate. And so Zasz was destroyed permanently, and his brood ran amok. It pained me to destroy my marvelous, myriad works, but the rampant Garm would have exceedingly slowed my advance. These rogue Protoss would be my downfall. They are the fatal flaw, the one thing all of my plotting and preparations could not solve. I had not foreseen their involvement. Nor would I have needed to, were it not for one simple being, nigh insignificant amongst the greater powers of the universe.
Tassadar.
During my brief connection with one of the Dark Templar's minds, I absorbed a wealth of information about this creature. He was once in the employ of the Conclave, charged with stopping the spread of my children's "outbreak." He had foolishly taken pity on the Terrans whose world we had begun to purify. H refused to cleanse the planet, and was exiled by the Conclave for his poor judgement. This creature, which should have been an enabling factor in my quest for perfection, would instead be its end. He was the only one wise enough to extend the hand of friendship to the Dark Templar before Auir was in my grasp.
He knows that the Dark Templar alone can only do so much damage to me. The energies focused within the core of my body are too strong for even their blades to pierce. He knows that, ultimately, without sacrifices there can be no victory against the Master of the Swarm. He will make that sacrifice, undoubtedly. His loyalty to his people supercedes even that of his hatred for the Conclave. He will die so that those who exiled him can yet live. This one creature alone mystifies me as much as the entire Terran people combined.
This is where my journey ends. So far away from the place of my birth, only trying to complete what was meant from my brother race's conception. Why do they hate me? I cannot answer that fully. I can only muse that it is because they do not understand. They have not touched the minds of our progenitors as I have. They cannot see the splendor that was intended for us. In their regard, I only wished to see our creators' greatest dream affirmed. They believe me to be a force of destruction. They are only half-right; while it is true I had intended to destroy the Terrans, and all the other non-essential powers of the universe, towards their race they are wrong. I am a force of creation. They simply cannot see what I do.
I feel the gathering of the Dark Templar's energies about Tassadar's flagship. He has been long prepared for what is about to transpire. For the first time, I feel actual harm done to my outer carapace. There are actual beings around me. I can feel their minds. There are so small, so insignificant. And yet they harm me. How can this be? I am the embodiment of the Swarm. A new feeling seeps in to me. It is unpleasant. Pain, I believe the lesser creatures call it.
Tassadar draws near, and with him, my end. I have failed. But still hope lives on in my Child. Perhaps she will complete the dream of the Xel'Naga. Or perhaps she will choose her own path. I do not know, nor does it matter. I will be nothing within minutes. The void beckons.
As the explosion of Dark energy thunders into my vulnerable interior, I send out one last message to the Protoss, and only the Protoss. No others. Not even my children.
I am sorry that you cannot understand. But know that I was never your enemy. I was only your brother, trying to re-unite with my long lost siblings. I am sorry that you cannot see. I only wanted our family to be complete, only wanted to see perfection realized, only wanted to see the perfect conquerors created.
I only wanted the best for both of us. Only the best. You have turned down perfection. I can only hope that this choice will not destroy you, as you have destroyed me.
I am sorry that you could not see.