In utter darkness.

On a distant shadowed world,

the protoss will make their final stand,

their heroes will gather,

their forces will be marshaled,

and they will die…

bravely, but still…

they will die…

As this words echoed on the mind of Xiltar the last member of the council of the ihan'rii had he realized the futility of it all, they who once were members of a proud race had been reduced to nothing but pray for the hounds of the void, the hybrid, sheltered in what little safety could be find aboard their mothership, the mentors' pride, he pondered to the events that took his people from a bast armada of ancient warriors, proud mentors and turned them to a meek fleet with no hope to stand against the dark one's host of hybrid.

The abominations who had ushered this universe to nothing but darkness, the unnatural aberrations that had turned the galaxy to waste, and in doing so ushered the era of Amon, an abominable dominion into which the madness and contempt of the fallen one were made manifest.

As he stood watching the twilight of reality did he realized the foolishness of his kin, the ihan-rii, reduced to nothing but fanatics ready to give their lives for gods who had abandoned them to the whims of such a monster, but as despair threatened to settle in his soul he felt the pull of a mind gracing for his own, pleading for the only comfort a race of psionics such as them could feel.

"Brother…" the mind of his only remaining kin called meekly, not in the voice of a proud councilor nor the call of the brave warrior that she had proven herself to be, no, the voice that took him from his thoughts was that of a poor child. One who would never be allowed to grow due to the inaction of his elders, one who seeks solace from the carnage that unfolded around them.

It was the only family that remained for him in this life, his sister Othan, the only comfort he could give her younger kin was the fullest pity that he could muster, for it was his duty to ensure that above all the council would protect his people, her and the children who would one day take the mantle form their shoulders as they joined their gods…

For denying them their rite to one day bare the torch of their race among the darkness of the stars was seen as nothing short of a betrayal by him, for this sin he shall never be forgiven.

She was the last, for the family of Xiltar had been once on of the most prominent lines of councilors and executors of the umbral choir, the governing body of the ihan-rii, those who guided their people as elders and mentors for the younger generations, the first who had answered the call of what remained of the united protoss under the Daelaam as their kind rallied for a last stand against the dark one, fighting through the Koprulu sector wherever they could make a blow, bleeding Amon out of a decisive victory.

At the climax of the war they had commanded him, the youngest member of the council, to take what vessels would follow in the hopes that they could be spared of the fate that was ushered towards the rest of their kind.

This armada was made of the Ihan-rii void arks, the vessels in which his kind took to the emptiness between the stars as vagabonds, waiting for the call of theri masters and for them to serve the will of the Xel'naga.

But it was not only by ihan-rii souls that these ships were filled, there existed groups of Khalai and Nerazim civilians that had to abandon the last stand, for the heirach of the daelaam, the warrior who he now knew as Artanis asked the umbral choir to save what little remained of his people, nothing more than artisans and young ones were spared that carnage.

"I'm sorry little one" he stated "for denying you and our race the future that was owed, for failing to save more of our kind and above all for failing to save our family from the betrayal of the council…".

Concern formed within the young adept, for one so well versed in the rites and rule of their people it was a clear sign of despair that radiated from his word,for to show such a display of defeat was nothing short of a confirmation that her once proud kin had been reduced by the events of the period leading up to the end of all life.

The ihan-rii were nothing short of prideful, for they once believed that their kind had been chosen by the gods of old, being the only race to be worthy of the teachings of the Xel'naga, and as such had secluded themselves from the affairs of the Galaxy, denying the younger races and the rest of the Protoss any warning as to the return of the fallen one.

"But brother, there's still something that can be done, we still have the keystone" Stated the adept.

Indeed had he forgotten of such a device, nothing more than a beacon to rally other races to the presence of the Xel'naga, by the hand of which the infinite cycle of rebirth and creation would permeate throughout eternity. And there it stood, radiating energies with a deeper function that had been attributed by the Terrans, of whom a group of enslaved servants they had taken the keystone from.

"I know of this young one, but the keystone has failed to provide us with the path towards our lords, or any hope, the knowledge of such a place died with the last of our protoss kind" this was as true as he could stand to tell his sister, for it was the dark prelate Zeratul that held any knowledge of what had eluded the council for such a long time, the location of Ulnar, the home of the Xel'naga.

"The only thing for certain is that the prophecies have been fulfilled to the designs of Amon" stating nothing short of disdain at the mention of the dark one, the elder stated to his younger kin.

"Then let us usurp what little we can from his victory, let us remind reality why fate brought us to the attention of the Xel'naga, for we are the tempest who punishes the failures of the past, we are the mentors' who teach the young of the mistakes of old and you my brother, are the wayfarer who will lead our kind from this desolated existence you who will lead us to the end."

He mused these words, spoken not like the child who sought her brother's aid. No, this was the will of a warrior, much like their older sister Tilan, she spoke with the wrath that only a hopeless future such as this could conjure, the wrath of the void invoked as a dark weapon .

And then realization struck him, for it was not foolishness or defeat that brought his kind to where they are, it was nothing but a pure will to forge ahead that took his kind to the stars.

"Spoken like the noblest of warriors" he ushered, this took Othan by surprise, be it her kin or not, to receive such a comment from anyone in the council would make any member of the tribe fill with pride.

"You're right little one, such an opportunity cannot be wasted, we shall uncover the truth behind this relic, to shepherd our people from danger, for this task, we must prepare…"

Getting closer to the celestial array aboard his vessel, he opened a link to the remainder of the fleet, standing away from Othan he waited for the AI of the mothership to confirm the link to all other vessels in range.

"SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF ARAKYR" he boomed with a will restored by the wrath of the warriors long past "proud children of Aiur and Shakuras, the time has come for the usi to act, too long we stood in contempt of the rest of the Galaxy such hubris took away any chance for us to guide the Galaxy and the younger races to salvation from this monstrous transgression against the work of our creators, THIS SHALL NOT STAND, for we are the purity and will of the Xel'naga, we are the great teachers, the mentors of the future, we shall usher hope for the next kin, and they to the next, for eternity, this is our infinite cycle, this are the teachings of the Xel'naga…"

What warriors remained on the bridge stood at attention to the last elder of the council, his will imprinting purpose into the defeated crew of their ship, with such an effect mirrored across the rest of the fleet, even reigniting the souls of the Khalai and the Nerazim to which the costumes of the Ihan-rii were as alien as those of the Terrans or the heretics of Amon.

"For such a future to happen we must make preparations for a great exodus.

Valiant warriors, honorable ancestors, diligent craftsmen, we stand at a crossroad, a choice has been presented to us, for our people to stay and perish with the rest of reality or follow in the steps of our mentors and preserve the infinite cycle for the future, i ask you, what will it be of protoss: death at the hands of oblivion or retribution against this transgression, WHAT WILL IT BE?! "

A chorus was heard from the rest of the fleet, warriors already clamoring for retribution, to strike at Amon's will and design chanting as a united chorus of vengeance, this would be the song, this would be the new Umbral Choir.

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Much needed to be done, their journey would take them to the darkest pit of existence and place them in a war of annihilation that threatened another realm with a cycle of abhorrence.

From which they would one day strike against the fallen one in retribution, for all the souls that were lost.

Much needed to be done.

Afterword.

It's been 12 years since I started my travel into this little corner of human imagination, It is a pleasure to meet all of you and after years of consideration I decided that this would be my addition to this little community that love the games listed above (don't worry, I intend to take our intrepid warriors to the war with saren soon enough, I won't take long)

Hope some can enjoy my little delusion, and I hope to meet you again soon.

EDIT: Me being the dumb poti-brain terran that i am committed the gravest sin of any person in the literary world, being a dumb dumb that does not proofread his own content, i have expanded this chapter for the fun of it, correcting as many mistakes as i could find, but i know i will miss something so i apologize anyway.