Chapter LXV: Legacy of the Xel'Naga. --The Markior

Markior looks around him, but can not see. Markior smells the air, but no scents are present. Markior searches for Psi emanations... nothing. Suddenly, a soft music starts to play. It's a calm, sad melody, played by violins and numerous other instruments. It has an Irish sound to it. Markior turns around, and sees a blue flash, then is surrounded by a city in ashes. He looks around, and sees buildings ignited in flames, smouldering like the tokens of Char. Then entire surroundings are covered in black smog, and the skies are a faint dark-red. He turns around again, and starts floating, his cape gliding over the ash. He's looking around, then suddenly realises where he is. "... The Island..." He mumbles. He floats faster, and sees a lone Yoshi, obviously a survivor of the holocoust. The Yoshi's purple, but with eyes as pupilless like the Markior's. A tear falls on the soil from this survivor, and places a blue rose on the ground infront. Markior then sees where the Yoshi is standing. A statue of himself. On it, there is a golden plaquette. Markior can't read the words properly, yet... three letters are obvious. R.I.P Markior clenches his fists. "No..." He rumbles. "NO!!" ---- He wakes up, inside the Protoss Nexus. His body is trembling, shivering with fear. A tear appears in his eye. "I have failed..." He cries. "By the gods... I have failed...." His golden shoulder shield glows brightly, and the image of his deceased father appears. "What's the matter, my son?" He speaks, calming him. "I..." Markior begins. "A profetic vision father... it must've been..." Gezriach looks at The Markior, his eyes glowing calmy. "What did you see, my son?" Markior stares back at his father. "The future... my father, I have failed..." Gezriach looks at his son and smiles slightly. "You have failed? My son, you speak of the future. And there is time to change the future..." Markior looks back at his father once again. "Can the future be changed, father?" He asks. Gezriach smiles. "Let me tell you a story, passed down by the Xel'Naga." Markior listens as his father speaks:

"Long ago, there was a great Xel'Naga leader called Mer-han. He send his servant to the market. Arriving there, the servant saw Death staring down at him and smiling. The servant, fear surrounding his heart, rushed back to his leader. He told him what happened to him on the market and wanted to be trasnferred to the distant city of Ghelenaz. So it happened, and the servant was transferred. Later that day, Mer-han went to the market place, and saw Death. He asked him why he had smiled down upon his servant. Death explained that he smiled because he was surprised to see the servant, because he had an appointment with him later that night... in Ghelenaz. Future cannot be changed, except when fate will allow it..."

Markior blinks. "I will guide the fate of me and my people, father." Gezriach nods, and says: "May your Adun guide you." The image of his father disappears, and Prism walks in. "Who were you talking to, Markior?" Markior turns around and looks out of the window, his hands behind his back. "No-one, Prism... no-one..."