She had died, and now she was in Hell. Why not? She had blood on her hands. But if it was hell, why was it was so cold...

Colonel Hunter had pit the teams of Ghost trainees against each other – only a extraordinary combination of teamwork, cleverness, and individual viciousness kept the children alive as they fought each other and the system designed to turn them into machines.

The girl, TC-002, committed her first murder at the age of thirteen. The older boy was labeled NY-011, fifteen or sixteen years old. He was from another team, and was well known for his aggression. He had already been processed, and the scars from the neural dampeners shone dirty white in poor light of the small female 'fresher. He had learned how to take his pleasure from the weaker girls, how to convert his fear and rage and helplessness into lust – not just for sex, but for control.

And now he had cornered TC-002 in a refresher. The girl was growing beautiful, her shockingly red hair too long and her blue eyes and soft face masked the harsh experiences of her life. And now she stood against him, face fearful and defiant. She knew what he wanted – what was confusing was that she wanted it too, just a little bit, even though he would hurt her. "Get the hell away from me," she hissed in the semidarkness. "Tango team will kill you if you touch me."

His voice was deep and cruel, one of an evil man more than a wicked boy. "November team protects its own, girl. Your leader won't start a war with us over you, not when XH-001 and her team are trying to take you out." He spread his hands, to show he was unarmed – not that it mattered, as the Ghost was more than capable of killing with his hands, but it was a symbolic gesture. "You can work me willingly, or I can make you," he leered. "Your choice."

TC-002 was afraid. The fear created a chemical buzz in her brain, an almost pleasant feeling, and suddenly she felt something click in the back of her mind. Her mind opened, and images rushed at her. She knew what he wanted, she knew what he was going to do to get it – and suddenly, by reading his thoughts, she knew how to beat him.

She had seen the older girls do this. Controlling the tremor in her limbs, she turned her face aside submissively, and knelt at his feet in the dingy refresher. He reached down and stroked her hair, and she shuddered at the touch. "Good," he whispered, "now you can..."

He never finished the sentence. With a wild scream, she leapt up, twisting her body away from his hands, and stuck hooked fingers into his eyes. He screamed in pain and lashed out with a kick – even blinded, he was stronger and better trained than her, and she tasted blood in her mouth from the blow. Opening up with her mind, she poured 'white noise' into his brain until he could no longer think straight, and then leapt within his guard and crushed his throat with a single knife-handed strike.

He gurgled and wept, choking, for nearly a full minute until he died at her feet. Looking up, she looked at her reflection in the 'fresher's mirror. Her hands and mouth were bloody, and her eyes were filled with horror and fascination. The power of life and death in her own, tiny, blood-stained hands.

Colonel Hunter had been so pleased, he had her placed in the Advanced Training program...after he had her cut open and a steel prison placed on her psychic powers.

The memory dissolved.

The basso 'voice' in her soul spoke again, blurring the memory, and numbing the pain. All became warm and comfortable as it murmured comfort to her.

"This is the torment that you have lived with, all of your life. You have been cast out and isolated because of your unique gifts. Always pain follows pain." It was true, she realized. And now that Arcturus had left her to die, she was cut off from the entire universe, alone in her misery.

"Not alone, my favored daughter. Though your own kind have sacrificed you, broken you at their vile machines, there are those who seek your love. You will never be alone again, for I will watch over you, and you will have a family so vast that is defies description..."

What are you, Voice?

"I am Purity of Essence, the second son of the most ancient Creators. I wish to help you. I wish to take the pain away."

You do not answer the question, Voice. What are you?

"I am the Overmind, my sweet child. I am the cleansing flame that sweeps across the universe, leaving only perfection in my wake."

It couldn't be. The memory of Sarah Kerrigan tried to scream her hatred and defiance, but no breath could be drawn, no sound came out. No. You are monster who knows only pain and conquest and heartless murder. You get the hell out of my head, alien!

And the Voice left, and she was utterly alone. Icy cold consumed her, and there was no time and no light and no existence. Desperately she called out for somebody, anybody, anything to end this eternal nothingness. Anything to tell her that she was not alone.

Light-years away, aboard the Battlecruiser Hyperion, Jim Raynor awoke with a start, heart pounding. Sarah...