Author's Note: We interrupt your regularly scheduled awesomeness to bring you this shocking news. This chapter was actually updated on time! How unbelievable?!

Now back to your regularly scheduled awesomeness.

Seriously, though, told you I'll get it up tomorrow. Today. Whatever. *Smirk* This chapter only has, like, 600 words, though. *Smirk rapidly slides off* I know, I know, it's pathetic. I'll work on it tomorrow, okay? Okay. Next chapter will be a flashback of Naszul. I know, right? A flashback within a flashback? I might as well go ahead and name the next chapter Inception! Right.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy, and I'll see you guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyyyyyys NEXT time!

-End Husky Outro.

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I fall back to the shadows.

That phrase is actually going to be a thing in the next chapter, you know. SPOILER ALERT!

AESEARIA

Aesearia stood on a large piece of concrete, stepping on a hydralisk corpse, an arm on an upraised knee. She surveyed the bloody battlefield with remorse for her fallen brethren, watching on grimly as a Warp Prism slowly made its way to what remained of her Cohort. Even though they had emerged victorious in the end, the battle delivered a devastating blow to their Cohort. Before the battle, she had thirty-six Protoss left. Now, all that remained were eleven Zealots, six Dragoons, and six Immortals. Only twenty-three Protoss remained.

Her eyes scanned over the bodies of the dead Zerg, registering the littering corpses. Blood stained the ruined concrete floor, flowing through every corner, seeping through every crack. She regarded the dead enemy with cold contempt. She watched on dispassionately as her Zealots picked through the Zerg, finishing any that may have survived the battle. Some would have considered it a coup de grace. She considered it vengeance. She turned her head away, and her eyes came to rest on another type of debris; this one was not stained with blood. Golden, slender, embedded with clear blue crystals. The remains of Immortals and Dragoons.

A curious sadness seize her, unrelenting, unforgiving.

She jumped off of her piece of rock, landing with a slight mental grunt. She walked, ever so slowly, approaching the Protoss debris with remorse and respect. There was also a fair portion of regret.

Eyes stricken with grief, she stopped in front of the golden remains of an Immortal and knelt before it, the way a granddaughter would over the grave of her grandparents. Its smoking body was severed from the lower half, its legs spread haphazardly across the ground. Dull blue crystals flashed bright for a brief second and died. She read the Protoss inscription on the hull of the suit and gathered that the dead one was a warrior named Noszul. Reaching out with her hand, she gently caressed the cold golden armor with grief-ridden fingers. Upon contact, however, she noticed something startling.

A psionic signature was resonating from the Immortal.

She mentally sighed, laying her hand to rest on a leg. Noszul's psionic presence was still there.

"I know you can hear me, Naszul," Aesearia said dejectedly. "We have won, though the victory was costly. You may return to the Khala knowing that we succeeded."

A sudden gust of wind picked up dust and particles of blood, scattering it all over the battlefield. Visibility dropped drastically for a moment, but no one was fearing a mutalisk attack. They were too busy grieving over the lost.

A distant, disembodied whisper echoed in the wind.

What of Aiur, our beloved Homeworld?

Aesearia stood up, half turning to leave, giving the ruined Immortal one last look.

"We will reclaim Aiur," Aesearia whispered to the wind.

Then she felt her psionic presence being yanked from her body. She glared at her collapsing body, panicking, wondering what in the name of Adun was happening, as her conscience was pulled towards the Immortal, beyond the ruined suit of armor, and into a grey vortex of chaos, like a piece of metal towards a magnet. Confused, she watched on from inside the vortex helplessly and despondently as reality shrank before her, vanished, and passed before her like a dream.

She fell, fell, and fell into the grey vortex.

Which was rapidly gaining a rainbow hue. Colors began to creep into existence, twisting and twirling madly, surrounding, engulfing her in a multi-colored maelstrom.

She then felt herself being dragged towards a brightness, the point of the vortex, into which several colors fed.

She zoomed towards the brightness.

And then knew nothing.

(In retrospect, it was simply unfair,the number of times she'd fallen unconscious already. Really? Falling unconscious in a flashback? How in the name of Adun did that happen to her?! How does that even work?! Is this a thing now? Every hour or so, she'd fall unconscious? Is this some omen that she would die in her sleep? That is, if she lives long enough? Argh!)