"PSI.. ONIC... BLAST!!"
Markior's voice rang out through the area of the inner Nexus, beams of greyish light emitting from his fingers, before a bolt of psionic energy was send forwards. The bolt smashed into an already very large sphere of energy... The sphere absorbed the blast, grew in size, and was richocheted back.
"High Zealot SLASH!" Fenix roared, his psiblades charging up. He leaped into the air, twisting around and slashing at the sphere. The sphere once again absorbed the energy, grew, and was send towards Tassadar.
"PSI ASSAULT." Tassadar called out, his hands held to the sides. He charged forwards, the glowing energies around his head emitting a strong aura, which jolted forwards into the sphere. Once again the same effect. The sphere absorbed, grew, and was send towards Markior.

From a distance, Gezriach and Dimatrioch looked at the three playing their game of psiball. "Well, my love.." Dimatriach spoke mentally, leaning against Gezriach's chest. "I still can't get over it, that now, our son is truly... dead." In the distance, Markior roared out as he rammed a charged up Psionic Punch into the ever-growing sphere. Gezriach looked at his wife, tilting his head lightly as he looked in his own reflection through Dimatrioch's skyblue eyes. "Our people yearned for so long to create the perfect lifeform... who could have forseen that our third creation would not be destined to become that... but to deliver the final blow against one of the multiverse's greatest evils.." He looks at the group of three old friends. The growing sphere of energy rams itself into Fenix.. The zealot cries out as his body shatters apart, the sphere of energy disappearing. Fenix's body reforms a few feet away. Both Markior and Tassadar laugh, helping Fenix up. Dimatrioch turns around, looking up at the edge of the Nexus. "Hm... I think this is a great accomplishment nontheless, my love... Markior has fulfilled his destiny, and he's reunited with his old friends, in exchange for saving and departing from his young friends.. I think it's a wonderful completion of a hard life."

Raszagal walks up to the three psi-ball players, her hands behind her back. "You boys through?" She asks, her eyes lighting up as she readjusts her chinwrap. Tassadar smiles, forming a new, small sphere on the tip of his indexfinger. "Actually, we're about to start another game, Raszagal.." Markior nods, drinking a psibeer. The crystal-like fluid slowly disappears from his glass as he holds it infront of him. Raszagal turns lightly, humming, "Strange how lack of responsibility can change someone, don't you think? The three of you were never like this on the mortal plain.." Fenix laughs heartily in response. "Ah, but look who's speaking, Raszagal. No Firstborn ever saw you without your Templar cape, back in the days of the living." Raszagal smiles, narrowing her eyes. "Hm, granted. I guess it's alright for us to enjoy ourselves now." She pauses. " ... Can I join you three?" Markior places his glass down. "If we all weren't at least above 500 years old, I'd answer something like, "No, girls can't play a boy game."." He grins. Raszagal, Fenix and Tassadar laugh, and the Dark templar matriarch enters the small game area. Tassadar tosses the sphere towards her. "Dark Templar Vengeance!" The protoss female shouts, clashing her warpblades together and beaming the sphere towards Markior.

----------------------

"No, please. No more interviews, interrogations, or anything of the like. Please." Artanis walked quickly through the mobs of reporters, each time responding with the same, basic answer. The paparazzi of Fa'diel were swarming the Protoss like happy locusts in summer. Artanis was about half a body higher then them, so his walking was a micture of a quick, annoyed pace combined with the careful walk of one who wouldn't want to step on anyone. The reporters were having a hard time deciding where to point their microphones to, as well. "Did you steal the mana sword?!" ... "From what planet are you?" ... "Does your species kidnap and mutilate cows?" ... "How does your kind repro-"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Artanis yelled out mentally, holding his arms above his head. "I did not steal the Creation's Weapon." Artanis grumbled. "Me and my allies were here to rescue it. We were too late. I stayed behind here to study..." He clenches his fists and bends forwards to an eye-to-eye level, shouting out. "Which is ADUN-FORSAKEN difficult with you HUMANS swarming me!!" The reporters edged away from the angry Protoss like a horde of zebras from a charging tiger. Artanis flipped open a device on his wristblade, calling his Scout. The Scout, inside the Spectrum, seemed to come to life as the lights flipped on, a soft humming noise filling the cabin. After a few more buttons pressed, Artanis disappeared in a swirling portal, his modified Scout having recalled him back into it. Artanis leaned back in his chair, thankful of escaping the crowd of reporters, enjoying the relative silence of his scout cabin.

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(Start continueity in everlasting words. Hard to write properly.. This is done because the area in which this conversation is held is the starting- and ending-point of everything. Therefor, everything that's said in there ends and begins continueously.)

One, single eye of grey, one eye of grey in the circle, with the worlds and the planets, with the stars and the suns, one single eye controls and readjusts, he modifies and sees, one single eye of grey. Next, to the single eye, stands the dark archon, the red psionic entity, next, in the round room, with the stars and the suns and the planets and the worlds, and he speaks. "He is defeated, I have won, I live, he does not.." The one, single, eye of grey, closes, and opens, and responds, "Before he could achieve, and become, and complete, from total to eternal, he is gone, destiny is there, and here, but not this... Not this at all." In the circle room, the round room, of grey, with the planets and the stars, the Archon and the Eye, and the Archon says, he does, "What? Not his destiny, it is, it is not? It must be, he is dead, dead is where destiny ends, it does, destiny ends with death, it doesn't, it does." And the eye, the single grey eye in the circle knows, it says, "I see it, but can't stop it, can't stop, only witness, witness to behold, that he can't, but he will, must return, when the time, time comes to be, be the time, there.." The Dark Archon, to the one, single, eye of grey, speaks back, back to him, to him he does. "What will he do, he can't return, not a second time, it is not possible, impossible, it is not, he cannot, only you, you can do, such a thing, from the Nexus, which is death, only you, who controls, who adjusts, why would you, if destiny, when destiny, why would you, return him to there, to then?" And the eye, single, grey, in the round room, with that all, responds, says to him, to him he speaks. "We will see, see we shall, the Creations Weapons are mine, they belong, belong to me, since the beginning, the start of all, it is mine, I am no good, I am no evil, I am no light, I am no darkness, I am no enemy, I am no allie, the Weapons are no Creation and no Destruction, they are all, they are mine... And he, he who's here, here is now, he's the key, the key to one, unfortunate, not fortunate, that he's here, and I will, and I must, keep him here. When he stays, he wont gain, when he gains, he will threat, when he won't, threat he won't, it stays... in balance." The Red archon, archon of darkness, dark entity, disappears, goes away, and the eye, single, great eye of grey, readjusts, and controls, modifies and sees...

(End everlasting continueity)

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Dimatrioch widens her eyes... She holds Gezriach's hand tighter... "... Did.. Did you hear that? The keeper of the nexus... the embodiment of eternal grey, he spoke to someone..." She looks at her husband. Gezriach nods. "He spoke to.. someone, it seemed. We've been here so long, I don't think he knows we can listen to his words.." Tears well up in Dimatrioch's eyes.. "Markior... he has died before fulfilling his destiny... He's the key to one of the ... what were they?" Gezriach looks at Markior, who's being hit by the sphere, his body shattering and reforming. "One of the Creation's Weapons... I always feared someone would look for them..." He narrows his eyes. "But, how can it be that Markior is the key to one of them? It doesn't make sense.." Dimatrioch slumps down, the swirling masses of blue that make up her lower body slowly lowering until she sits.. "This seems.. so wrong.." She says, through her tears. "Someone should know.. I don't care about the Keeper's words... No-one EVER dies before achieving their destiny, that has NEVER happened before..." She looks at Gezriach. "My love... we must send out a message to the mortal plane.. Tell them to revive Markior..." She whimpers... Gezriach holds her soothingly, nodding. "It seems odd... that we should play a part in destiny's plan after our mortal age has ended.. But very well.." He stands up. "However... I'm not sure if telling just any mortal about the Ancient's Relic would be wise... The power to revive an immortal being from the Nexus is wanted by many..." Dimatrioch slowly stands.. "Well... it's not really an.." She whipes a tear away. "..not really an item to instantly restore... but it lets you make a request of Revive to the Keeper, one which He can't ignore.." Gezriach nods slowly.. "Indeed... But remember, the Keeper has no value for good or evil, since they are equal. If the Relic would be known to evildoers, who knows what'd happen..?" Dimatrioch looks at Markior in the distance. "Tell the orange Yoshi from Fa'Diel.. He was there when Markior sacrificed himself. His heart is pure. He is strong and courageous.. He will be able to bring Markior back.." Dimatrioch closes her eyes. "I... hope... that he can find our hidden homeworld of Xel'neh-mi.." She sighs. Gezriach nods, holding her shoulders. Dimatrioch looks at Markior again. "Then.. I'll... tell Markior... that his destiny isn't fulfilled yet..."

Gezriach turned and moved into their Temple, the same one in which Markior was Changed after his first death. Holding out his hands in a star-shaped room, a light shines ontop of him as he begins to establish a mental connection, through space, time, reality... and death.