Louise, Siesta, Tiffa, and company marched to the plateau in unison. After meeting up with the remainder of their group at the twin Terran and Protoss bases, and taking a moment to be amused at how terrified the ones just joining them were of being drop shipped as they were, they began the final trek to Adyl under the unrelenting desert sun.

Tiffa and Agnes, when reunited, made sure to revel in an extended embrace that involved Tiffa picking up and swinging Agnes around and squealing with delight, while Agnes laughed both joyously and anxiously.

Once Tiffa noticed Agnes' increasing discomfort, she froze and awkwardly let her down.

"S-Sorry, I was just really happy to see you," Tiffa stuttered as she blushed.

Agnes, after managing to finally breathe deep enough to speak, gave her a confident smile, "I'm happy to see you, too."

Tiffa felt reassured enough to meet her gaze once more and smile back at her. "I assume it went well?"

Agnes nodded as she smirked, "Not a hitch."

Tiffa matched her smirk, "I knew it."

"Not even a little worried about me, were you?" Agnes teased, arching a brow.

Tiffa shook her head, "I know you." She stepped forward to gently embrace Agnes, who reciprocated with a pleased hum. "And… I would like to know you more. W-Whenever you're ready."

Agnes pulled back, still smirking up at Tiffa as she did, "Someday soon, I promise." Her smirk became a sincere, warm smile. "I hope I get to know you more, as well."

Tiffa squirmed and averted her gaze, causing Agnes to visibly manifest concern.

"Something wrong?" Agnes asked.

Tiffa paused.

"Just…" Tiffa hesitated, "There's… things about me. And… I'm scared that when you learn them… you'll hate me. Or be scared of me."

Agnes took Tiffa's hands, giving her a look of conviction, "There are many things about me, as well, that I hesitate to share. Because for almost all of my life I've felt I could trust no one." Agnes' gaze fell to their held hands.

"I have fought beside you, though," Agnes met Tiffa's gaze with renewed conviction, "and the bond we've forged through that tells me everything I need to know. That no matter what you could tell me? There is nothing so heinous about you that would turn me away."

"Agnes," Tiffa said, with a longing and warmth as she felt her heart flutter. She cleared her throat, and met Agnes' gaze with her own conviction.

"I-I'm over six thousand years old!" Tiffa blurted out, her face immediately overcome with red as she did.

Agnes' eyes widened, but, other than that, she had no physical reaction that could be discerned with eyes alone.

"I-I see," Agnes answered, audibly unsure.

"S-Sorry, I just… felt I should get that out of the way…" Tiffa chuckled awkwardly as she looked anywhere but Agnes.

"W-Well you certainly look good for your age. Great, even!" Agnes matched her awkwardness.

"T-Thank you?" Tiffa replied, unsure if either of them really knew how to continue this tangent she'd blurted them into.

A relative silence fell between the two. As silent as it could be with the din of a mobilizing army surrounding them.

"Listen," Agnes said, squeezing Tiffa's hands to get her to meet her gaze once more, "I'm an adult. It's not like you met me as a child and manipulated me. I don't feel there's anything wrong with it," Agnes reassured her.

Tiffa smiled as her redness transitioned from anxiety to fondness.

"I may have questions, though," Agnes said, "of the historical variety."

Tiffa once again gave an awkward laugh.

"T-That may be hard to answer. I was a recluse for almost all those years. Just training and honing my psionics and combat skills for… this." Tiffa indicated beyond Agnes. To the city they were planning to march towards. "But I promise I'll answer what I can, okay?"

Agnes gave her a sincere smile before nodding.

Tiffa walked forward, letting go of only one of Agnes' hands while she marched to the front of the advancing forces.

Montmorency and Guiche were both, surprisingly, in steel and gold armor that matched each other.

"Ugh, I wish we could have had horses…" Guiche lamented.

"I know! Seems so uncivilized, marching in like a common footsoldier!" Montmorency agreed just before she pouted.

Guiche spared a chuckle for her as he looked at her fondly, causing her to blush.

Colbert was marching alongside Mama Cassandra. He was adorned in his usual professor's robe of blue and carrying his staff. Mama Cassandra was dressed in her usual guerilla outfit of patchworked stolen ghost armor and tattered shawl and scarf.

"Aren't you hot in that?" Both of them asked simultaneously, causing them both to pause in surprise then laugh.

"Well, I'm a fire mage, so the heat isn't much of an issue for me," Colbert humbly bragged.

Mama Cassandra arched a brow at him, regarding his visage being remarkably free of sweat. Only glistening faintly.

"You know, I got a nephew like that. Can't sweat much. Passes out when he's outside longer than an hour or so even in the spring!" Mama Cassandra chuckled to herself.

"I'm pretty sure it's not the same thing," Colbert chuckled awkwardly.

"As for me?" Mama Cassandra moved on, "spent my whole life runnin' and fightin' and workin' in kitchens and such. This ain't nothin'." She confidently smirked, even as sweat drenched her face.

Colbert produced a handkerchief from his person and muttered a spell at it before handing it over to her.

"What's this?" Mama Cassandra asked.

"I've enchanted it to keep a constant, pleasant temperature. It should stick to the back of your neck and be most effective there," Colbert cheerfully informed.

Mama Cassandra raised her brows before she shrugged and took it, heeding his instructions.

"Well no shit!" she said in jolly disbelief before giving Colbert a playful punch on the arm that made him hiss and rub it. "That's mighty useful, mage! Thanks!"

"N-No problem!" Colbert once again anxiously laughed.

A snapping pop once again made Julien and Henrietta jump before frowning at Aly.

"Do you HAVE to do that?" Julien asked, exasperated.

"Don't be jealous just cuz the pilot liked me more," Aly replied, nonchalant as she gathered up the remaining gum into her mouth and began chewing it again.

"It's just… irritating," Julien groused.

Aly barked a laugh before slapping him on the back. Hard. "Aw, the heat getting to ya? Someone need a nap?"

"Don't talk to me like a little kid…" Julien mumbled as he scowled at the sand they trudged upon.

Aly gave a defeated sigh, "Yeah, yeah I'm just messin'. You doin' okay your majesty?"

Henrietta twitched at being addressed. Adorned in her old royal battle armor with the patch on the lower left of its torso, she turned and pursed her lips at the redhead.

"I'm not really a Queen anymore. Not after all that," Henrietta replied.

"Sorry, force of habit. How 'bout I call you Retta then?" Aly joked.

"How about not?" Henrietta frowned, making Aly bark out another laugh in amusement.

"You two are so easily provoked, it's hilarious," Aly chuckled.

This is quite the turnaround from her, Henrietta thought, regarding Aly. Strangely enough, she was more tolerable when she was hostile… Now it's like I have an annoying sister… She paused at the thought, then gave a single, small laugh accompanied by a similarly small smile.

Aly and Julien looked at her in confusion.

I guess I always did want siblings… Henrietta thought with a sigh.

Zeratul was with Nyral and Rhalandas, their solar-powered bodies reveling in the intense sunlight while also enjoying the sensation of being in a desert once more. However, a peculiar feeling from Zeratul was not lost on the two younger Nerazim.

You seem… haunted, Prelate, Nyral pointed out.

Zeratul paused, I… was party to a vision. Of this world's past. It… troubles me.

Truly? What about this primitive backwater of a planet could possibly be so disturbing? Rhalandas said dismissively.

Once again, Zeratul hesitated before answering. Not because he felt it should be secret. But because he found it hard to say.

Tassadar… Zeratul began, immediately feeling interest and concern from his younger peers, he… was upon this world. He was instrumental in the formation of its foundational beliefs.

By Adun… Rhalandas swore in disbelief.

Indeed, Zeratul replied.

That would mean we have intimate ties to this world, Nyral surmised before looking at Rhalandas, Perhaps this softens your perception of this place?

Rhalandas did not answer, but emanated a feeling of begrudged acceptance.

It is deeper than that, I am afraid, Zeratul said, feeling yet more interest and disbelief from the other two. This world's "magic" is… inherited from him. They are… fragments of his psionic power diluted by millennia of breeding.

How is this possible?! Rhalandas exclaimed.

Even Nyral emanated a feeling of shock.

It appears, many millennia ago, a group of acolytes and protectors to the one known as "Brimir" managed to harness his power when he-, Zeratul hesitated to say it, emanating a mournful feeling, when he fell. Sacrificing himself for this world much as he did ours.

There was silence between the three of them.

It is unfair, Rhalandas commented, with a tinge of wrath.

Indeed, Zeratul agreed.

I sense that you are not so… incensed by this? Nyral wondered.

Another pause.

It is because… Zeratul was unsure how to say this. He looked out beyond the Elves they traveled slightly apart from. To Louise. He is still with us… in some way.

Julio walked alone among the advancing army. He chose to use this time to steel himself for what he knew was to come. But how could one prepare for what was going to happen? How could anyone? Though he couldn't see them, he looked in the direction of where Louise, Siesta, and Tiffa would be. It was enough to calm his nerves, despite his stomach-turning sense of dread.

It also helped that the sunlight was fading, casting the world into shadow.

Julio, along with many others around him, looked up in the general direction of the sun. All but him were shocked to see it becoming eclipsed. Just as Vittorio foretold and forewarned.

As the armies approached the city, they became increasingly aware of an ominous presence looming over them.

It was quadruped. Made of what looked like stone. Draconic. With a long, boxy head adorned with many horns and folded wings that looked like they would be leathery if they were made flesh. Its skyscraping size could not be understated. Even the black and red Tal'darim Colossi that were striding into position with the sea of black and red that the army was marching to meet barely reached past its uncannily carved toes. By that observation, those that could spare the mental willpower calculated it must have been almost four kilometers tall. Perhaps shorter if it could actually walk, as its sitting position was reared up, its thick neck with spikes running down its spine made it a bit taller than it would be, otherwise. Though, if it stretched out, it may reach well past the four kilometer height estimate.

Louise couldn't help but wonder why this thing existed, however. What could the purpose of such a statue be? Was it built by the elves long ago and Ma'lash just left it? Did Ma'lash build it? And she really did not care for how its eyes glinted and seemed to glow red in the hastily retreating sun.

"Executor," Louise could hear Artanis' voice in her ear through the communication device she was given by Henrietta. "We will deploy heavy air support to keep their larger armaments occupied. It will allow you and the Akhundelar to remain concentrated on the immediate threat of Ma'lash and his direct subordinates."

"Understood," Louise replied.

She looked up to see the same terrifyingly large shape of a vessel she'd seen only once before. The night the academy was attacked. Oblong, gleaming golden, and larger than any airship she had ever seen, it cast a shadow over them. Yet more shadows were cast over the advancing army as vessels identical to it, and some that were not, passed over them, their engines producing a rumbling, low roar as they did. She could now recognize these as Carriers. Capital ships that were filled with unmanned drones that swarmed enemies.

There were also pointed, blue, spearlike vessels that were still massive, but completely dwarfed by the Carriers. They had three rotating "claws" focused around a glowing blue crystal that led their forms. She identified these as Nerazim vessels known as Void Rays.

And between them all, the golden, crescent-shaped ships screeched through them as they got into position. Phoenixes.

Louise did not know it, but she had, at her command, a miniature golden armada that any force here or even in Koprulu would be loath to try and break.

And behind her? Her own Colossi, her own Zealots, her own Dragoons, a more squat, still quadruped, and golden version of a Stalker that made up for its lack of maneuverability with durability and range, her own High Templar, and her own Immortals. Though, as she would be focused more on providing critical spell support, she trusted Artanis and his brethren would be able to handle commanding the army composition she'd composed. Based on her lessons with Artanis, her army composition choices seemed strong.

Though, even with the combined arms of UED and Protoss forces at her back, she could not help but feel a looming sense of dread. As Tabitha warned, this seemed too easy. As if they were all being drawn in intentionally. Her hand, as always when her doubts and fears began surfacing in her wife's proximity, was gently grabbed, and she looked over to see Siesta give her that same reassuring smile that she fell for.

No matter what, Louise thought as she looked to the dark, mirrored version of the Protoss forces that had her back. And the one floating before them that they were coming to face, as long as we have each other? We can do anything.

Siesta squeezed her hand, responding positively to her thoughts.

The advancing army stopped in what looked to be a massive, open square that was paved with ancient, cut, black stones. Looming behind the black and red Tal'darim forces was that skyscraping statue that provoked a mild sense of unease from all who faced it.

Not a single shot was fired, as both sides squared off, which only increased Louise and her allies' unease. What were they waiting for? Why was there no resistance to them entering the city? Was Ma'lash being dramatic? Had he gone mad after so many millennia of existence?

Or was this really, as she feared, a trap?

There was no more time to consider as a voice rang through Louise's head, along with all her allies.

I have been expecting you all, Ma'lash's voice stated. It felt… amused.

Tiffa stepped forward from the army, igniting her scythe as she walked towards Ma'lash, pointing it at him.

"I do not have time for your theatrics, colonizer!"

The feeling of amusement from Ma'lash intensified as he floated forward, a dense, red aura of pure psionic energy manifesting about him as he did.

Be civil, Ma'lash ordered as he drew closer to Tiffa, the two still separated by nearly a kilometer. I wish to grant you this one chance to accept my mercy. Dark God knows you do not deserve it, but it would be… inconvenient to spill so much elf blood. When it could be put to so many better uses. The feeling that emanated from Ma'lash was a confident boredom.

Tiffa, however, emanated a deep, boiling rage.

"Never! You shall never have our freedom!" Tiffa shouted, her voice carried far and wide by her psionics. Her eyes scanned Ma'lash's lines, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust at the fact that there were still elves among his numbers. A disgust borne from equal parts distaste at their being traitors to their own people, and at Ma'lash for his overly-effective indoctrination that had kept her people in line for so long.

What could be interpreted as a sigh came from Ma'lash.

Very well. Ma'lash raised his hand, palm-up, to Tiffa, who also quickly raised her own as she lowered her scythe. Have it your way, my prodigal primitive.

That was when it began. With the firing of a concentrated beam of red psionic energy from Ma'lash, and Tiffa firing off a matching one that caused them both to clash and emit a blinding white light where they collided, both sides bellowed war cries as they charged each other, giving the two principal participants of this rite of Rak'shir a wide berth that they battled around.

As Nyral and Rhalandas cut their way among the Tal'darim forces, Nyral felt something from her long-time battle mate.

I sense you are enjoying this, Nyral commented, amused as she dodged around Tal'darim Zealot strikes from two sides by rushing between them before spinning and decapitating them both.

There was no response, but a mild feeling of annoyance from Rhalandas as he blinked to avoid a strike from a Tal'darim elf, only to be caught in the path of an incoming strike from a proper Tal'darim Blood Hunter that only barely revealed itself. He was saved, as he often was, by Nyral blinking into the path to catch the scythe's blade with her own, allowing Rhalandas to leap over the two and backstab the Protoss.

A sense of begrudging thankfulness emanated from Rhalandas.

There is nothing to be ashamed of, Nyral assured her battle mate as she sensed an attack from behind and spun to parry two more Zealots, one elf, one Protoss, while Rhalandas rushed by her to cut them both down whilst their blades were up.

A sense of satisfaction emanated from Rhalandas.

You are so much prettier when you smile, Nyral playfully commented as, without looking, she hooked her scythe back, catching an elf trying to sneak up on them, and flipped the elf over both of them, slamming him into the stone of this plaza they fought in while Rhalandas decapitated the assailant.

You should be more than aware Protoss do not "smile", Rhalandas grumbled as he blinked forward to catch a Tal'darim Ascendant, a black and red armored and hovering version of a Khalai High Templar, about to cast a psionic orb at them, relieving him of his arm before following up the strike by running them through.

I am, Nyral replied, still amused as she felt her shields impacted by a Tal'darim Stalker, simply a Stalker in red and black, and blinked to it to remove its legs one by one for its audacity to catch her off guard before removing its head in just a few swift motions that went by in an instant. I merely wanted to provoke a reaction from you.

Rhalandas, not needing breath, had to exert extra psionic effort to reply with an exasperated groan while the two, with perfect synergy, danced around each other to continue slaying their enemies.

Guiche and Montmorency found themselves hopelessly outclassed here. In any situation against other mages, against humans, against Zerg, even against the UED? They would feel themselves on even ground. Here, however? Against Protoss and elves that had been designed to be as similar to Protoss as possible? All they could do was provide support and distraction while Ei'lyx, Vish'dnir and Lukshana handled the threats that came from them.

Guiche's now-iron golems (that he had been reshaping to resemble more practical, simple forms instead of his ostentatious valkyries) broke themselves against the shields of elves and Tal'darim Protoss alike, their forms melting and being cut down with ease by the psionically-based attacks.

Guiche focused the bulk of his efforts not on the golems, however, but on raising makeshift battlements for Henrietta, Julien, Aly, and their now-allied UED soldiers to have extra cover and protection to fire from.

Thanks for that, Guiche thought to himself, directing said thought at the late Matilda for her ever-so-brief tutelage that taught him he could do more. Be more.

Regardless of the odds. Guiche would order a golem to smack against a Tal'darim shield, Montmorency would attempt to back it up by using her reserves of water she had brought with her to shoot icicles, that she tried to keep as thin as possible, at the same target, hopefully weakening or breaking their shields before one of their compatriots could swoop in for a killing blow.

It felt utterly thankless, and they felt useless, but they would be damned if they didn't at least do their best to help.

The open space left for Tiffa and Ma'lash to engage in was cleared with good reason. As their beams of concentrated psionic power struggled against each other, both fueled by the power of their respective allies, the colliding energies lashed out with wide arcs of energy that scorched and melted the bricks they fought atop. Tiffa, however, was growing impatient with this. Her glowing, crimson eyes narrowed into a glare as she began maneuvering herself to put Ma'lash's back before her own allies.

Lucky for her, he seemed none the wiser as Tiffa inched in a circle to accomplish her task. Once She was sure it was her enemies at her back, a small smirk broke out on her face.

"Fuck this!" Tiffa declared, lowering her hand to grab at her warp scythe, thus severing her own psionic beam, and leaping up and away out of Ma'lash's, letting it blast a hole in the enemy ranks behind her, as she planned. Her leap took her directly to Ma'lash, bringing down the scythe as she screamed with wrathful, primal rage.

Ma'lash ignited and raised his blades, bringing one to block the strike, and deflecting the follow-up strike he predicted Tiffa's uppercut hooking motion of her scythe.

Ma'lash psionically pushed himself back, leaving a red blur in his wake. You have no respect for the traditions of Rak'shir.

Tiffa leveled her scythe at him, glaring with gritted, bared teeth while she breathed deeply.

Ma'lash let her feel his amusement, Good.

"Brother! It is not too late! You can still join us in liberating our homeland!" Vish'dnir pleaded as he deflected a strike from the elf.

"You are a fool, brother. To think you can challenge the master? Or the Dark God? Your hubris is legendary. As will be your pain!" the elf retorted as he made a flurry of rapid strikes with his psi blades that broke against Vish'dnir's.

"You have spent too much time among them! You even speak as they do!" Vish'dnir shouted, with a tinge of desperation in his tone.

"And what of it?" The elf spat back, thrusting a blade forward that Vish'dnir knocked aside while he went to strike with his other blade, which Vish'dnir needed to leap back from, "They are perfection incarnate! We are sullied, primitive beings! They uplift us! We should strive to be like them!" The elf thrust both his hands out, sending a moderately-sized psionic wave at Vish'dnir that knocked him back and broke his shields as he fell.

Vish'dnir's opponent smelled the blood in the water as he leapt to strike. Vish'dnir, with a heavy heart, already saw how this would turn out as he simply raised one arm to block the blades against his while impaling the elf on his other.

"I am sorry, brother," Vish'dnir lamented as the elf tried and failed to scream in response, "there was never anything wrong with us. I'm sorry you could not see that." Vish'dnir concentrated his psionic energy into a visible bubble that burst, throwing his impaled, ailing opponent from his blade and causing him to collapse on the ground. Vish'dnir, rising to his feet, looked down to regard his fallen brother with a mournful visage. After a moment, he sensed more strikes coming his way and readied his blades once more.

There would be time enough for mourning this injustice later.

Siesta had never fought a proper Protoss before. The closest she came was fighting Vish'dnir. And that did not go well. Still, no matter what, she needed to buy time for Louise. As was her duty. Remembering how her last encounter went, she willed her staff into a halberd style of weapon. Best of both words of thrusting and slashing so she wouldn't have it knocked out of her hands.

Whilst Louise chanted the Khalani needed to cast a psionic storm over the enemy, Siesta was squaring off against a proper Protoss Tal'darim Zealot. She knew they weren't immortal. She'd seen Protoss slain before. But at this moment? She was struggling with a deep sense of doubt and fear against facing an opponent with centuries more experience than her, regardless of any edge granted to her by her power inherited from one of the greatest warriors in Protoss history.

The warrior psionically roared as he charged at her, his twin red wrist blades snarling as they cut at her. She leapt back, her own weapon not at all designed to deflect. The warrior prowled around her, and she narrowed her eyes while trying to keep her awareness of her surroundings acute.

Pathetic ape, the warrior taunted her. Just like all your kind, you play with powers beyond your comprehension.

Despite his words, the warrior was making no move to charge at her. Siesta knew he was trying to goad her into striking first. Or perhaps…

Siesta whipped around to see a shimmer darting towards Louise. Eyes widening, she brought the halberd-formed staff down in a chop directly in the shimmer's path with all her might, hitting and breaking the shield of an elven blood hunter that staggered from the impact. Before Siesta could follow up with a thrust, she felt that the Zealot was making his move. She jumped straight up at the last moment, letting the warrior charge beneath her as she flicked her left arm to activate her psi blade, letting gravity, with a little psionic help from her to increase her force, do the work of breaking the Protoss' shield. Unfortunately, she did not account for the impact of the shield to throw her aside, and she had to deactivate both her weapons to prevent self injury as she scrambled to land on her feet, facing the elf and Tal'darim Protoss.

She could see the Blood Hunter had recovered, and was quickly taking stock of the position while the Zealot brought his blades to bear upon Siesta. She did not have time to make any calculations as she drew and flung Derflinger directly at the Blood Hunter whilst he gave a quick shout of a protest. Siesta leapt up and back to avoid the Zealot once more.

You fight like a coward! The Zealot snarled at her.

Siesta leapt to the side, lining up the Blood Hunter, who had easily dodged the attack, and the Zealot before reaching out her left hand and closing her fist, bringing Derflinger back in a flash as he ran through both the elf and the Protoss before returning to her hand.

"Nice two-for-one, partner!" Derflinger praised.

Siesta did not reply as she roughly sheathed him while she once again willed her staff into a halberd and took her place near Louise, who she could tell was reaching the end of her spell.

Once her chanting finished, with an echo that could be heard throughout the battlefield, a lightning storm that manifested from nowhere engulfed the enemy ranks, with bolts of brilliant… pink lightning? That was new, Siesta noticed. The bolts boomed and cracked through the sky, striking the mass of Tal'darim enemies with wanton abandon and breaking formation as they attempted to disperse.

"Artanis!" Louise called out through her communicator.

Yes, Executor? Artanis dutifully replied.

"Have the other Templar blanket them in storms! Break their ranks!" Louise viciously ordered with a sadistic fire in her eyes.

Of course, Executor! Templar! Let them feel the wrath of the Khalai! Artanis announced.

Floating forms of High Templar joined Louise's sides, with their immense psionic energy causing them to appear to leave illusions of themselves in their wake made of pure psionic energy.

Saraht tuun! The Templars announced as Louise and Siesta could see them spread their arms to gather their energies, bring them together in a bright, compressed, electric ball, and thrust their arms out, manifesting a series of blue storms that also scattered the enemy forces as they tried desperately to flee the bolts that were tearing away their shields, armor, and flesh.

This victorious moment was swiftly stolen from them, however, as a new Tal'darim Protoss appeared. Hovering just the same as the High Templar and Ma'lash, a feminine-appearing Protoss wearing a helmet that obscured their eyes and wrapped around their jaw flew forward, reaching out both of their hands to send concentrated beams of red psionic energy out. Siesta, seeing that this new figure was scissoring them together, swiftly grabbed Louise while Louise blinked them out of the beams' path. When they reappeared, they saw that the High Templar that were by her side were no more, leaving only the faintest glowing ashes blowing in the wind.

They both looked at this new figure that was now eyeing them directly and their hearts became gripped with a fear they'd never felt for another living being before.

Yes, that is the proper response from primitives such as you, the figure sneered in a voice that sounded as feminine as the figure looked while they raised a hand towards them.

Siesta, without thinking, leapt and charged forward, screaming as she swung her halberd-formed staff at the figure, feeling it bounce off her shield and causing a reverberating pain to shoot up her arms. Siesta hissed in pain and dropped whilst the figure emanated a feeling of amusement.

A pathetic display, the figure commented as she lowered herself to grab Siesta by her hair, wrenching her up to meet this Protoss face-to-face, fitting for such a pathetic creature.

"Siesta!" Louise cried out, but before anything else could happen, Siesta was suddenly dropped, causing her to collapse on the ground.

Typical Daelaam weakness, the Tal'darim above her growled. Siesta had heard an impact of warp blade on shield that brought her gaze up to see Zeratul landing beside her, offering her a hand. She took it and rose to her feet, readying her staff once more as she glared with conviction at the Protoss the trio were facing.

You always do rely on others. Because none of you have your own power, the Protoss taunted as she gathered psionic energy in both her hands.

Then what's Rak'shir even about?! Siesta psionically demanded as she and Zeratul both dodged away from the beams she shot from her hands. Isn't it all reliant on helping each other?!

Primitive logic at its best, the Protoss scoffed, the point of Rak'shir is to use the power one has so rightfully obtained from their loyal subjects to singularly overcome the weaker. She ignited her warp blades and dashed forward, Siesta felt strongly she couldn't dodge to either side or leap over, she had to leap back. The wall of psionic energy around the Protoss before her that barely dissipated as Siesta landed told her she was right.

It's the same thing! You're sharing power to overcome foes greater than yourselves! Siesta bit back as she swung the halberd in an uppercut while gathering her own psionic energy in her right hand for the follow-up to the Protoss before her dodging.

Your pathetic ramblings only further reveal you could not possibly comprehend what it means to be Tal'darim, to be firstborn, the Protoss declared as she, as Siesta predicted, dodged back before taking a psionic blast that broke her shield. The feeling of surprise from her lifted Siesta's spirit.

I don't care about your twisted logic, anyways, Siesta declared as she made herself scarce from the Protoss that was once again tracking her with concentrated psionic power in a rage while Zeratul kept swiping at her to keep her aim off. I just needed you to be paying attention to me.

Do you really think that such inane and primitive tactics will amount to-? The Protoss' question was stillborn as Louise lifted her cloak, revealing herself to be right before the Protoss, her wand aimed squarely at her and a smirk on her face.

"F'odsi!" Louise shouted. At once, all of the Protoss' energies left her body and turned upon her, causing her to cry out and fall from the air and to her knees.

You apes… the Protoss snarled as she raised her head to, presumably (as they could not see her eyes), glare at them, Even if you kill me… you will not-.

Whatever threat or declaration she would have said was stolen by Siesta and Zeratul each slashing her down in unison, with her psionic death rattle being the last thing they heard from her.

Siesta, now letting her exhaustion hit her, became aware of her ragged breathing and leaned on her staff looking over at Zeratul. The old Nerazim gave her a nod of approval before cloaking himself in shadow once more, while Louise ran up and helped stabilize her.

"I hope this is over soon," Siesta rasped.

"Me too," Louise agreed, her breaths also effortful as they became aware of more Tal'darim forces coming to them and readied themselves.

Ma'lash's thralls and Tiffa's allies were giving the two a wide berth as they clashed. Psionic energies enhanced by many millennia of essence sparking and shooting out from the clashes of their blades and deflected from each other was the reason.

I see that, unlike the one who laughably called himself my rival before, you were not content to rest on your laurels all your years, Ma'lash said, with a tone that indicated praise.

It was almost enough to throw Tiffa off. Almost.

She broke his strike, glaring at him.

Really? You wish to monologue now? I may not have read a lot of books but even I know this is cliche, Tiffa psionically spat back, as she also leapt back and fired off a massive bolt of psionic energy that cratered the ground where Ma'lash once stood. She saw no trace of him, but took a pre-emptive leap the moment she landed, finding it was wise when Ma'lash surged forward with a wave of red psionic energy wrapped around his form, disintegrating some of his own loyalist elves as he did, much to Tiffa's disgust.

You have clearly prepared for this, Ma'lash once again praised, causing Tiffa to clench her jaw in rage.

But she was practiced in this. She was the master of how her emotions worked. And they worked for her. She took a defensive pose, which proved to be the correct choice as Ma'lash fired a concentrated beam of psionic energy at her, which she held up a hand to deflect. It fired off into Ma'lash's forces, cutting a swath through them.

She could feel a sense of annoyance now building up in Ma'lash, which made her mouth twitch with a desire to smirk. Beginning to channel her elven magic into her weapon, she blinked forward, just barely out of her scythe's reach. Ma'lash pre-emptively swiped up with one of his blades to deflect a strike that never came. Leaving him completely open when Tiffa leapt forward, twirling her now glowing-white scythe in an uppercut motion.

She felt it.

The blade had hit its mark.

Ma'lash gave off a psionic yell of pain as Tiffa's blade hooked him through his chest.

Now Tiffa knew she could smirk. No matter what he did now, she had won. She had enough shields left to take whatever paltry punishment he could dish out in reprisal. And in this state, impaled at the end of one of her scythe's blades, she knew it would be useless for him. She wrenched him up, giving him a victorious, slightly sadistic, grin.

"I have won!" Tiffa declared, psionically enhancing her voice to ring throughout the battlefield.

Just as the darkness of the eclipse was but a moment away from its apex.

At once, the fighting slowed. And this great plaza they battled in quieted as all eyes that could beheld the victorious elf.

That was when something happened that no one expected.

Ma'lash began emanating a laugh. A deep, insidious laugh that caused the hands of dread's fingers to begin wrapping around Tiffa's heart.

You utter fool, Ma'lash strained to say as he reached up, grabbing her right arm with one of his taloned hands, this... was EXACTLY his plan, "Highlord".

At that, a brilliant flash of red energy erupted from him. Essence. Six thousand years' worth. His body, as the energies were expelled, aged in a flash until he was naught but reduced to atoms, with his armor clanging to the stone ground beneath where he stood. Tiffa's eyes went wide with disbelief, and horror. She had no time to comprehend what had happened, however, as two things happened.

The eclipse had reached its apex.

And a rumbling began.

I.

A voice spoke. One that all could hear booming in their heads at an impossible volume.

AM.

The voice continued, louder. Tiffa dropped her scythe and to her knees, clenching her head in agony along with her friends and allies behind her.

FREE!

At that declaration, what the group thought was a statue began to twitch, and they all turned to regard it. Its eyes glowed an intense red that had snarling, crackling energies arcing from them.

What have I done? Tiffa thought, despairingly, as she beheld this behemoth of what was revealed to be a creature rumble to life, an ear-splitting cracking noise heard with each twitch of movement it made.

Surrender, Tif'narak, the voice taunted, your body. All elves. Are MINE.

That was when Tiffa became aware she could no longer feel her body. Only see through its eyes as it looked down at her hands and clenched her fists, letting out an ominous, low laugh.

No! Stop! Tiffa begged, pounding at the edges of a barrier within which her consciousness was imprisoned.

Witness the fate you and your comrades have chosen, the voice taunted her as she saw her body pick up her scythe and rise. Witness… despair.

The sudden stillness over the battlefield that now only bore the sounds of the stone-made, draconic-shaped creature rumbling to life allowed a moment for Louise to take stock of their situation. Tiffa, who she had just seen end Ma'lash and his essence seemingly taken by the statue, was standing with her back to her and Siesta. Stock-still. As if she were frozen in awe or terror.

"Tiffa?" Louise asked as she wandered forward, raising a hand to try and rouse her from what she thought was a stupor while she kept her eyes on the new creature whose eyes shone with deep, crimson menace that caused her spirit to be clutched with fear. "We… we nee-."

All the air in Louise's lungs was relieved of her as Tiffa, wearing a wide grin and whose eyes were of a black so dark as to be a void, ignited her scythe and spun to face her. Louise had not noticed that her stance was not of someone being prepared to strike. But one who already had.

A ringing deafened Louise as she found herself falling forward. Her eyes widened with a horror she'd never thought possible as she saw the bottom part of her torso and one of her arms falling the other direction from her. And Siesta. She was clutching her face. Looking to be in the deepest throes of agony as she beheld what Louise was not fully comprehending just yet.

She saw Siesta sprint forward to catch… the part of her that retained her consciousness. She could feel that Siesta fell to her knees, her agonized, desperate expression dousing her with hot tears while she screamed something over and over that Louise couldn't hear.

Louise opened her mouth to reply. To say anything.

She found it impossible. There was simply no air. And no way to draw in breath as it immediately left her body every time she desperately tried.

That was when the pain hit.

Unimaginable pain.

Louise opened her mouth now to scream. Only for nothing to come out.

Siesta held her close. Louise couldn't hear the wild sobbing from her wife. But she could feel it. Each one of the sobs shook her violently as Siesta squeezed her. She could only imagine what Siesta was saying. Declarations of love. Hollow reassurance. Pleading to any entity greater than them.

Louise did the one thing she felt she could do. Raise her remaining arm and wrap it around Siesta with any strength she had left. Siesta pulled back to look down at her, her face still twisted with grief. Summoning the last of her will, Louise gave her a pained smile.

Then.

She felt herself slip away. Killed as spiritually as she was physically. Drowned, as she was, in a sea of despair.

Siesta's fate was not so kind.

Her mournful keening was nearly as loud and ear-splitting as that of the awakening ancient dragon, and all of Louise's allies who beheld this also felt themselves cast into the sea of despair. Feeling no will to stay afloat.

Siesta felt herself become detached from her body. Just as when she had given in to the power of the Gandalfr. This, however, was not the same. The breaking of her spirit allowed a foreign, sinister presence to seep into her.

And she had no will to fight it. As nothing mattered to her anymore.

She felt it.

She felt him.

Amon.

She watched as her body callously dropped what remained of her wife and took its place by Tiffa's side.

Her allies watched this play out, frozen by terror. Siesta and Tiffa, side-by-side, their faces bearing unnaturally-wide grins below their void-like eyes. Siesta ignited her psi blade. It was now a bright, crackling crimson to match with Tiffa's own scythe. Both hunched down and leapt at their former family, butchering them mercilessly with laughter ringing in their ears as they were slaughtered.

Or, at least according to what Vittorio predicted to Julio as he wandered forward to a seemingly stunned silent Tiffa, that was what was supposed to happen.