Azalel hugged herself against the wind, wrapping the overcoat tighter around her frame. It was getting colder out—soon, brown shriveled leaves would carpet the earth. Tolar stood beside her with one arm around her, a heartening presence.

She glanced behind her. An assembly of Protoss and Terrans, from ages twelve to four hundred, watched her intently. Her eyes sought out Xarral, who was speaking to an engineer. It had taken him nearly a month to convince the community to allow Azalel to travel beyond the warp gate and find her true parents.

Azalel had used the warp gate twice in her life—once, coming here, and the other, taking a trip with her father to Aiur, the Protoss homeworld. Both times she hated the sensation.

Xarral came up behind her and looked at Tolar, who hesitated and tightened his hold, not wanting to leave her side.

"I'll be okay," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He bowed his head to her and stepped away, winding his way through the crowd to the rest of their friends.

Are you ready, child? Xarral murmured.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" she whispered back.

I cannot. This is your trial, and yours alone. He placed a large clawed hand on her shoulder, comfortingly.

She glanced behind her again, and found her friends. She waved; they called to her with mental and vocal shouts. "There are so many people here."

This is very important to everyone. Not only will you be going back, but you may be able to answer a few questions about Terran culture no one was able to answer before. Look. He directed her towards a gap in the crowd. Look there—

She squinted, peering into the shadow, and saw—

A Dark Templar!

She had seen one only once; on the trip to Aiur. That one had barely passed through her vision, gliding like a ghost about twenty yards from her. This one was merely twenty feet away, and standing still. The breeze moved his soft black cloak about sluggishly, and half the face was covered by a similar piece of cloth.

That is Patriarch Zeratul, Xarral said softly in her mind.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Zeratul?" she gasped. "But—I thought—I thought he disappeared!"

He did, only to reappear to help destroy the Zerg and beat back the Hybrids once and for all. He continues to search for answers among the void along with his brethren, but spends most of his time on Shakuras. Not much is heard of him, which is why you thought what you did, that he was gone. Because of his friendship with James Raynor, he is as interested about the Terrans as we are.

"Wow." She looked up at him. "Can we go to Shakuras after I come back, Father?"

He squeezed her shoulder. Not many go there, but perhaps.

"Well, they're interested in Terran culture, and I'm interested in theirs."

You are an intriguing little one. Xarral lifted his head, gazing over his shoulder. Ah.

There was a click, then a hum—

Blinding light filled the area as the portal opened. Xarral paused, looking about, then tugged a chain from around his neck and pressed it into her hand. Immediately coolness spread through her palm into her body and through her mind. Here.

"What is—" Azalel opened her hand and gasped at the Khaydarin crystal. "But Father! This is yours!"

I will feel safer if you had it with you. It holds some of my memories, my concentration, and my power. Do not argue. Xarral wrapped one arm around her waist in a hug, which she returned, then moved away. Live up to your name, child.

"I will," she whispered, slipping the chain over her head and tucking the small glowing crystal under her shirt.

Then another mind touched hers, one that was much older and powerful and vaster than her father's—something she hadn't thought possible.

En Taro Adun, little Terran.

Azalel gasped. The mind withdrew. She looked behind her one last time—piercing glowing eyes of the Dark Templar met hers. Her own eyes widened, and she turned away to the warp gate.

She went through.

It was cold here, too—in full-blown winter. Azalel was glad she brought her heavy overcoat. Searing wind from the frozen river behind her buffeted her; she snuggled deeper within the cloth and forced herself to move. Her boots clunked on the frozen wood pier and crunched in snow as she trudged up the dock and into the woods.

All of it was familiar. Well, of course, she thought. I lived here five years of my life, even if I don't remember any of it!

Up the path she went, hunched over from the icy wind and snow. When she got to the house, she steeled herself and knocked firmly on the door.

There was a muffled voice, a grumble, and creak, and the door opened.

"Christopher and Dana Routhe?" she asked.

The pretty young woman stared at her, mouth open. She stammered, "Oh my goodness… no, they've moved. They don't live here anymore."

"Oh. Could you tell me where they went?" Azalel rubbed her quickly numbing hands together and tugged the overcoat even closer.

"Why… why don't you come in," the flustered woman said.

"Thank you." Azalel stepped in and the woman closed the door. Immediately she sighed, relaxing in the heat. "This is much better."

"You don't even have a hat on," the woman cried, slipping into motherliness as if just realizing that fact. "Come in, warm up! What possessed you to walk all the way out here?"

Azalel was about to tell her she came up from the dock, but decided that would sound too suspicious and merely shrugged. "I guess the cold didn't really register when I started out."

The woman, who said her name was Beth Halloway, led her into the den where a handsome young man was poring over paper, calculators, and scratching numbers. "Sit here," Beth said, gesturing to a couch near the fireplace. Azalel sat. "This is Robert, my husband. Bob, could you stop doing those bills a second, please?"

The man looked up and blinked. "Hi, hon—who's this?" He put on a pair of spectacles and squinted at Azalel.

"This is Miss…" Beth glanced at her.

"My name is Azalel," she said calmly, and the man stood to shake her hand. "I was looking for somebody and your wife was kind enough to let me out of the snow."

"Out there?" Robert turned to stare out the nearest window. "My God, it's a hell storm out there!"

"I know." Azalel smiled at him, extending her hands near the fire. "I was out there."

"What were you doing out there?"

"Looking for the Routhes. I was told they lived here, but Mrs. Halloway has informed me that they've moved." She glanced at the woman, who nodded.

"We bought this house eleven years ago, right after the Routhe's daughter disappeared."

"Victoria?"

"Poor thing. She was kidnapped, you know. Disappeared without a trace."

"Do you know where they live now?"

Beth nodded again. "We've actually kept in touch with them for the past few years, and… well…" She stared at her for a moment, then burst out, "Why in the world are you looking for them at this time of day, at this time of the year, during a snow storm?"

Azalel threw back her head and laughed. "It wasn't snowing when I started." She held up a hand. "Yes, I know what you mean." She looked right into Beth's eyes, then turned and looked into Robert's. "I'm looking for them because I am their daughter. My former name is Victoria."