CHAPTER FOUR: IMMORTAL

Something appeared upon the shrine. One moment it had not been there, the next moment, it was. The Nerazim simply nodded, when he saw it, as if he had expected this. The dark Templar looked to him now.

"I wish to have my spirit preserved, in this Kitara, where it might choose the winds of fate after death, and go wheresover it might desire. It is a sacred place, and will safeguard my soul, within this container. Would you protect me, while I do this?"

"I gave my life in service of Aiur, to protect my masters, and my brothers. I will do no less for you, even now that I am little more than a machine to your eyes."

"Ah, to think that I misjudged you. I, one who was an Outcast, who should have known better than most." Amos was not assured that the warrior at last echoed his own thoughts. "But we protoss are ever proud and blind, and fearful of curses."

Though it imperilled their mission, still he could do no less. The dark Templar was not Khalai, so he did not allow himself to be surprised. But the pain this exertion of two masters placed upon him, however, who was Khalai, made him groan within himself. For the duty to his brother and the duty of his masters, was equally great, although his compassion instructed him which was the path to follow.

Day after day, the Sentinel stood vigil, shirking not once even when chitinous blade scored his metal flesh, when an acid gob struck his upper torso and nearly turned his capacitors into ruins. Still, his darkness remained framed in the small opening where the zerg blindly charged.

The power of the Istay Shrine was such that the rock itself was impenetrable, but always it must allow one small gap, which was the doorway. This, the Nerazim explained, although he was little more than a shroud sleeping within the misty energies now.

And at last, the work was done, and the zerg came no more. The dimmed lights of the Nerazim colony was gone, and Amos knew there was no way off this planet for him, and thus the Zerg had left, likely to pursue them. Still, he would search for one.

"There is a shuttle," the Nerazim said suddenly, and for once, the Sentinel was shocked, distracted by his sudden words. "A sacred vessel hidden in these mountains. It was put here for the faithful and worthy who sought out this shrine, to bear their spirit to whichever burial ground was preferred. You may take it where you wish – so long as you take my Kitara to a place among my own people. They will accept you. The message is not military in nature, the delay will be acceptable."

He supposed that made sense, although he did not know how the Dark Templar did things.

The image appeared in his mind, the location of the hidden and ancient shuttle, and he was surprised to find that the Nerazim's art was not thwarted by his metal chassis. The Nerazim had held the power to connect with him all this time.

"Worthy then, after all… half-warrior…" and the Nerazim closed his eyes and died there. The Sentinel stood watch then, staring out into the arctic waste, indifferent to the cold. And quietly, the Nerazim's spirit was accepted into the mysterious fold.

THE END