StarCraft Chronicles Episode 28: The Day the Khala Became the Enemy's Voice

This is a fan narrative rewritten based on the events of the original work. The characters' emotions, dialogues, and scene atmospheres have been reconstructed, and it includes major endings.

Whispers of Oblivion and the Approaching Darkness

In the dark abyss of the Void, Zeratul was tracking the covert movements of the Tal'darim and the Moebius Foundation. The ominous energy radiating from the ancient xel'naga temple warned that the end of the universe was nigh. In the cold silence of space, he pieced together the fragments of a truth forgotten for thousands of years.

Whispers of oblivion brushed past his mind, proving that the resurrection of the fallen xel'naga, Amon, was no mere illusion. The moment he discovered a Hybrid breeding facility hidden deep within the mist, an uncontrollable dread blossomed in Zeratul's heart. The sight of countless Hybrids writhing as they prepared to awaken was a terrifying omen of catastrophe.

These hideous monsters, created by Amon by combining Protoss and Zerg DNA, were beings born solely for destruction. Maintaining his cloak, Zeratul infiltrated deep into the facility, where he finally grasped the full scope of Amon's grand design to extinguish all life in the universe.

The urgency of needing to warn his people of this horrific truth quickened his steps. Yet, he could not be certain if his brethren, blinded by their long-cherished dream of reclaiming Aiur, would heed his warnings. Nevertheless, he bore the heavy destiny of delivering news of this impending doom to the young Hierarch, Artanis.

Boarding the Void Seeker, Zeratul set a course for the coordinates where the Golden Armada was assembling. Watching the starlight stream past his window, he recalled the irreversible mistakes of his past and the countless lives sacrificed because of them. That guilt was a cold shackle, forever gnawing at his soul.

But now, there was no time to be haunted by the ghosts of the past. The approaching darkness was massive and overwhelming enough to swallow not just the Protoss, but the entire universe. Closing his eyes, Zeratul quietly whispered the name of the great hero Tassadar, praying fervently for the wisdom and courage to endure the harsh trials ahead.

The vibrations of the ship tearing through warp space resonated through his old, weary body. Though his physical form was scarred from countless battles, his mind was honed sharper than ever. He had but one single-minded focus: he had to stop Artanis before Amon's shadow fell upon Aiur.

When the sensors finally picked up the majestic presence of the massive Golden Armada, Zeratul let out a deep sigh. The brilliantly shining vessels of his people were magnificent in their own right, but to Zeratul's eyes, they looked like a swarm of moths flying straight into a destructive flame. Gripping the controls tightly, he plunged into the inescapable vortex of fate.

The Oath to Reclaim Aiur

Artanis stood at the very forefront of the massive Golden Armada, the pride and hope of the Protoss. Behind him, countless Templar had gathered under a single purpose: to reclaim the glory of Aiur. The burning desires and resolute determination of his people, flowing through the Khala, made the young Hierarch's heart pound fiercely.

He knew better than anyone the pain of past days, where countless sacrifices had to be endured to reclaim their lost homeworld. Through a telepathic broadcast echoing to the entire Templar host, Artanis praised their noble mission and unyielding courage. His speech was a powerful force, healing and uniting the wounded souls of the Protoss.

Beside the Hierarch, his most trusted Executor, Selendis, stood her ground with a steadfast expression. Her eyes burned solely for the reclamation of Aiur and the resurgence of the Protoss, ready to leap into the fires of hell at Artanis's command. The bond between the two shone even more solidly within the Khala.

At that moment, the space of the staging area warped, and Zeratul suddenly emerged from the shadows. At the appearance of the unwelcome Dark Templar, displeasure and wariness spread rapidly through the Khala among the Templar. Though taken aback by his sudden arrival, Artanis could not hide his complex emotions toward his old friend.

In an urgent voice, Zeratul warned that Amon had returned and that this invasion was a trap that would lead them all to ruin. Explaining the existence of the Hybrids and Amon's horrific plans, he pleaded with them to halt the attack immediately and withdraw their forces. In his eyes lay a deep despair that only one who had witnessed the end of the universe could possess.

Yet, Artanis could not fully accept his warning. Countless of his brethren were already armed with the desire to reclaim their homeworld, waiting only for the order to launch. Canceling the attack now would crush their hopes and risk fracturing the Templar—a dangerous decision. The weight of responsibility pressing down on the Hierarch's shoulders was far too heavy.

Selendis dismissed Zeratul's words as seditious nonsense and strongly argued that he should be detained immediately. While Artanis held her back, he made it clear to Zeratul that he would not back down, emphasizing that this battle was a holy crusade upon which the fate of the Protoss rested. In the end, Zeratul's desperate pleas failed to halt the massive gears of fate.

Ultimately, with Artanis's command, the Golden Armada began its grand advance toward Aiur's atmosphere. Descending while tracing brilliant trails of light, the hundreds of ships looked like a saving grace destined to banish the deep shadows cast over their ruined homeworld. Zeratul could only watch that march of doom with a heart full of despair.

The Voice of Darkness Consuming the Khala

Descending onto the surface of Aiur, the Protoss forces unleashed overwhelming firepower against the feral Zerg swarms. Zealots' psionic blades sliced through the thick carapaces of the Zerg, and Stalkers' particle disintegrators ceaselessly reduced the enemies to ashes. Artanis himself swung his blades at the very front lines, raising the Templar's morale to the heavens.

The initial battle seemed to flow toward an overwhelming victory for the Golden Armada. Stepping onto the soil of their lost homeworld, the Templar fought more bravely than ever, perfectly sharing their tactics through the Khala to execute flawless coordinated attacks. The joy of victory was warmly transmitted to every Protoss through the network of the Khala.

But that joy of victory was all too brief and hollow. Suddenly, from the deepest recesses of the Khala, a cold and alien presence began to seep in. It was not mere fear, but an overwhelming and ominous darkness that shook the very core of their existence. Artanis stumbled, feeling a horrific pressure that momentarily choked the breath from his lungs.

The darkness swallowed the entire Khala in an instant, ruthlessly violating the minds of the Protoss. The peaceful and harmonious song of the Khala degenerated into a discord of horrific screams and despair. At the center of this chaos, the harsh and arrogant voice of the fallen xel'naga Amon, forgotten for thousands of years, echoed directly inside the minds of all the Templar.

Amon mocked the arrogance of the Protoss who had betrayed their creators, declaring that the time had come for them to pay for their sins. His voice carried an endless hatred and a thirst for destruction directed at all living things in the universe. His overwhelming thoughts, transmitted through the Khala, tore through the Templar's mental barriers as easily as paper.

Even amidst a head-splitting agony, Artanis struggled desperately to resist this horrific corruption. He cried out through the Khala, telling his people to focus their minds and not yield to the darkness, but his voice was buried under Amon's massive thoughts and vanished without a trace. Despair froze his heart cold.

Looking around, the scene unfolding before Artanis's eyes was hell itself. Brave warriors who had been fighting alongside him just seconds ago were writhing in agony, dropping their weapons to the ground. Their blue eyes were gradually losing their light, replaced by an eerie red glow symbolizing Amon's dominion.

The most horrifying part was that they no longer moved of their own free will. Reduced to Amon's puppets, the Templar slowly raised their heads and aimed their weapons at their brethren who were not yet controlled. The noble crusade to reclaim Aiur instantly plummeted into a horrific tragedy of fratricide.

Fallen Brethren and the Red-Eyed Executor

Within Artanis's mind, the scream of his most loyal Executor, Selendis, echoed. Her thoughts, transmitted through the Khala, were already completely consumed by Amon's red will, and her usually elegant and resolute voice was gone, replaced by Amon's mechanical and chilling voice mocking the Hierarch.

The catastrophe of Selendis and countless other brethren turning into Amon's puppets and attacking one another poured directly into Artanis's mind through the senses of the Khala. Artanis clutched his head, trying to block out the horrific mental shock, but the conduit of the Khala remained open without mercy.

The surrounding Zealots began to move according to Amon's will, their red eyes flashing, and Artanis too fell to his knees under the massive mental oppression. Amon struck directly at Artanis's inner self, crushing his ego, and the Hierarch gradually lost his sanity in a chaos of grief over failing to save his people and Amon's murderous intent.

To make matters worse, Amon's mental assault began to strike directly at Artanis's inner core. The fear and despair of countless brethren flooding through the Khala, combined with Amon's overwhelming dominance, relentlessly crushed his sense of self. Artanis felt his will slowly eroding, engulfed in a terrible sense of helplessness.

Amon dragged up the most painful moments from Artanis's memories to mock him. The fall of Aiur, the deaths of his people, and doubts about the countless decisions he had made threw his mind into disarray. Artanis's once-steadfast conviction crumbled like a sandcastle before Amon's cunning mental assault.

The long nerve cords extending from the back of his head radiated a burning agony. The Khala, once the greatest blessing and symbol of unity for the Protoss, had now become a horrific chain binding his soul. Artanis felt Amon's dark energy, flowing through his nerve cords, spreading through his veins and across his entire body.

In his fading consciousness, Artanis's vision began to stain red. His limbs no longer obeyed his commands, and an unfamiliar urge for destruction surged from deep within his heart. He realized the horrifying truth that he was slowly turning into Amon's monster, but he had no strength left to stop it.

Just before complete darkness swallowed his mind, Artanis bitterly regretted his foolishness. His decision to arrogantly push forward with the reclamation of Aiur, ignoring Zeratul's warnings, had ultimately driven the entire Protoss race to ruin. Letting go of his last remaining thread of self in deep despair, he plummeted into an endless abyss.

The Dark Templar's Blade Piercing the Darkness

Just as absolute despair was about to swallow Artanis, a green flash gleamed with a sharp tearing sound through the air. Clad in the energy of the Void, Zeratul broke through the encirclement of the fallen Zealots and deflected a lethal blow flying toward Artanis. With his appearance, the surrounding air seemed to freeze cold.

As a Nerazim unconnected to the Khala, Zeratul was completely free from Amon's horrific mind control. Relying solely on the power of the Void, he slipped like a ghost through his red-eyed brethren to reach Artanis. In his eyes lay a resolute determination to save his old friend and a heavy resolve to end this tragedy.

Zeratul gripped the stumbling Artanis firmly by the shoulders and shouted desperately. He cried out that the Khala had been completely seized by Amon, and that the only way to escape this horrific shackle was to sever his nerve cords. His voice pierced clearly through to Artanis's ears, even amidst the chaotic noise generated by Amon's thoughts.

But Artanis was already halfway lost to Amon's control. With a face twisted in pain, he let out a beastly roar and swung his psionic blades at Zeratul. His strikes, imbued with Amon's red energy, were far wilder and more destructive than usual, filled with a merciless intent to kill Zeratul.

Zeratul stepped back, dodging Artanis's attack by a hair's breadth. Watching the young leader he cherished most turn into a monster was an agony that tore Zeratul's heart to shreds. But he had no time to indulge in grief. It was a critical moment where a single mistake could lead to the deaths of both.

Zeratul extremely restrained his own attacks to ensure he would never inflict a fatal wound on Artanis. He focused solely on defense and evasion, searching for the perfect opening to sever the long nerve cords trailing behind Artanis's back. Though the old Dark Templar's stamina was rapidly depleting, his concentration shone brighter than ever.

Against the backdrop of Aiur's ancient ruins, a tragic duel unfolded between the young Hierarch bearing the future of the Protoss and the old exile seeking to atone for his past sins. Every time their blades clashed, the powerful energy waves emitted shattered the surrounding debris. Even under Artanis's fierce pressure, Zeratul never backed down, biding his time.

As time passed, Artanis's attacks grew faster and more brutal, and cuts of various sizes accumulated on Zeratul's body. Speaking through Artanis's mouth, Amon mocked Zeratul's futile struggles, trying to shake his resolve. Yet, with an unshakeable, steadfast will, Zeratul continued to call out to the true self hidden beyond Artanis's red eyes.

The Chain Severed with a Final Breath

As Artanis, completely consumed by Amon's control, raised both hands, the surrounding atmosphere grew heavy and a powerful psionic storm raged. Destructive energy laced with red lightning poured toward Zeratul, ruthlessly sweeping through the ruins of the ancient temple. Zeratul endured the storm by drawing upon the power of the Void, but his worn armor had already reached its limit.

Using Blink, Zeratul escaped the center of the storm and slipped into Artanis's flank. In that split second, he spotted a faintly flickering blue light within Artanis's burning red eyes. It was the final distress signal sent by Artanis's noble soul, resisting to the very end despite Amon's horrific oppression.

The moment he saw that tiny light, Zeratul knew exactly what he had to do. To approach Artanis, who was in a state of perfect defense, and sever his nerve cords required a lethal gamble with his own life. Without hesitation, Zeratul dropped his defensive stance and leaped recklessly into Artanis's deadly attack range.

Failing to grasp Zeratul's intention, Artanis instinctively thrust his psionic blade forward. The burning red blade pierced Zeratul's breastplate, driving deep into his heart. Though a horrific pain felt as if it were tearing his entire body apart, Zeratul did not even let out a groan, staring straight into Artanis's eyes as he took another step forward.

Feeling the hand of Artanis, which held the blade impaling his chest, tremble slightly, Zeratul concentrated all his remaining life force into his right arm. His warp blade, burning with a green light, sliced through the air in a sharp arc. It was the most precise and merciful strike in the world, delivered by the old Dark Templar in exchange for his own life.

With a cold metallic sound, the long nerve cords trailing behind Artanis's head were cleanly severed and fell to the ground. At that moment, the red aura enveloping Artanis washed away completely, and the original clear blue light returned to his eyes. Zeratul's noble sacrifice had finally shattered Amon's horrific shackles.

Mortally wounded, Zeratul's body collapsed weakly to the ground. Artanis let out a gut-wrenching scream, looking back and forth between the blood-stained blade in his hand and the fallen master. He hurriedly cradled Zeratul in his arms, trying to stem the wound, but the old Dark Templar's life force was already slipping away as fast as grains of sand.

Zeratul raised a blood-covered hand to caress Artanis's cheek. Though his breath was fading, his gaze was more peaceful and warm than ever. He left Artanis with his final words: to find the hope that the Keystone would guide them to. And with a smile on his face, he closed his eyes, putting an eternal end to his long and weary journey of atonement.

A Resolve Born in Silence

The moment his nerve cords were severed, an excruciating pain that felt as if it would tear his entire body apart surged up Artanis's spine. Yet, what shocked him far more than the physical pain was the fact that his connection to the Khala, which had never been broken since the moment of his birth, was completely gone. In his mind, stripped of the warmth and harmony of billions of his brethren, there remained only a terrifyingly cold and empty silence.

In that overwhelming solitude, Artanis stared blankly at Zeratul's body slowly dissolving in his arms. The great Dark Templar's form turned into particles of brilliant light, scattering upon the winds of Aiur, leaving only the worn bracer he had worn his entire life lying solitary on the ground. Artanis's heart felt as if it were shattered to pieces by guilt and sorrow.

His own arrogance and foolishness had ultimately driven the Protoss to ruin and pushed their greatest hero to his death. Artanis wailed like a beast, staring at his own blood-stained hands. The bitter self-reproach that his vain pride in reclaiming Aiur had led them to walk straight into Amon's trap ruthlessly hacked away at his soul.

Yet, even the time to weep in despair was a luxury he could not afford. The fallen Templar, who had hesitated briefly due to Zeratul's sacrifice, were once again narrowing their encirclement around him, their red eyes flashing. A murderous intent laced with Amon's wrath closed in on Artanis from all sides. Suppressing his grief, he picked up Zeratul's bracer from the ground.

As the cold touch of the metal reached his fingertips, the final words left by Zeratul echoed in his ears. That earnest voice, telling him to find the hope the Keystone would guide them to, became a powerful pillar that rebuilt Artanis's crumbling spirit. He firmly resolved never to let Zeratul's sacrifice be in vain.

Artanis ignited his own psionic blade alongside the warp blade left behind by Zeratul. The dazzling brilliance emitted by the intersecting blue and green lights seemed to symbolize the union of the Khala and the Void. Gripping the two blades firmly, his eyes flashed with a sad yet resolute gaze toward his fallen brethren rushing at him.

Though the harmony of the Khala could no longer be heard, a new form of will burned within Artanis. It was a cold, fierce resolve to save his people and destroy Amon. Fluidly parrying the attacks of the fallen Zealots blocking his path, he began a desperate breakthrough for survival.

Artanis advanced, deftly avoiding his brethren's vital points while deflecting their weapons. The pain of having to strike down those who were once his brothers was horrific, but he bit his lip and swallowed his tears. The only atonement he could make now was to survive and liberate them from Amon's control in the future. His steps were directed toward the deep underground of Aiur.

The Awakening and Escape of the Ancient Ark

Artanis dramatically rendezvoused with Phase-Smith Karax, who had escaped Amon's grasp. Karax had severed his own nerve cords to free himself from Amon's touch, and he worked desperately alongside the Hierarch to awaken the ancient ark, the Spear of Adun.

Escorted by Nerazim warriors, Artanis headed to the deepest underground sanctuary of Aiur. There, the Spear of Adun—a massive ancient ark constructed during the most brilliant golden age of the Protoss Empire—lay in a deep slumber of thousands of years. It was the final hope and key to salvation left by their ancestors in preparation for an apocalypse that might strike in the distant future.

As they opened the massive doors of the underground sanctuary and entered, the Spear of Adun revealed its majestic presence on a scale that defied imagination. Artanis and the survivors were momentarily overwhelmed by the ship's grandeur, but the sounds of Amon's pursuing forces quickened their steps. Artanis moved swiftly to the bridge, the heart of the ship, and stood before the primary control console.

Under Karax's precise technical guidance and Artanis's resolute defense, the power matrix of the massive ark, which had slept for thousands of years, finally began to reactivate. The power core awoke with a grand vibration, illuminating the entire ship with brilliant lights, and the Spear of Adun emerged from its long hibernation to become the new sanctuary for the Protoss.

Once the ship's weapon systems and shields were activated, Artanis ordered the Nerazim warriors to evacuate as many scattered survivors to the ship as possible. Though the fallen Templar and the Amon-controlled Zerg swarms began pouring into the sanctuary, the powerful firepower unleashed from the Spear of Adun desperately held back their approach.

Confirming that even the last survivor had boarded the ship, Artanis ordered the vessel to launch. The Spear of Adun rose, tearing through the crust of Aiur with a massive roar. The sight of the ancient ark, buried for thousands of years, soaring into the sky while scattering dust and rock debris was wondrous and overwhelming in its own right.

As the ship broke through the atmosphere and entered deep space, Artanis looked out the massive window of the bridge at the receding Aiur. The sight of his homeworld, once again plunged into the abyss of despair while enveloped in Amon's red aura, gouged at his heart. But he was no longer lost in despair. His eyes gleamed coldly toward the vengeance and salvation to come.

Caressing Zeratul's bracer fastened to his arm, Artanis made a firm vow in his heart. Though Amon's shadow threatened to cover the entire universe, the fire of the Protoss had not yet been extinguished. The Spear of Adun forged ahead, cutting through the deep void, as Artanis led the remaining of his people to begin a new and arduous journey to find the Keystone of which Zeratul had spoken.

Verified Sources

Official Blizzard StarCraft Chronicles

Official StarCraft II Campaign Introduction

Developer Lore Q&A: The Connection Between Characters and War

Official StarCraft II Downloads and Campaign/Nova Purchase List