The Hyperion's engines emitted a muted roar at full power, the hull vibrating slightly as the ship broke free from Monlyth's gravity well.
Raynor stood before the bridge command console, his eyes locked onto the shrinking planetary image in the aft observation viewport.
Monlyth's surface was already being corroded by vast swathes of an ominous violet-red hue—the expanding tracks of the Zerg creep, resembling festering wounds.
Sporadic Protoss resistance persisted, golden bursts of energy flaring periodically within the ocean of creep, yet powerlessly against the overarching outcome.
"Jump engines fully charged," Matt Horner's voice came from the helm console. "Coordinates locked. Ready to jump on your mark."
"Execute immediately," Raynor ordered without a second's hesitation.
Space before the Hyperion began to warp and fold, opening a warp rift.
The ship glided smoothly into the distorted light and shadow, then accelerated abruptly, vanishing from conventional space.
Planet Monlyth faded into a dim speck on the star map, then disappeared completely into the wake.
In mid-warp, the bridge remained relatively quiet, save for the low hum of life support systems and cogitator arrays.
Yet Raynor's mind was far from settled.
Both hands gripped the edge of the command console, knuckles whitening under the strain.
The main viewscreen remained frozen on the last image transmitted before evacuation: the mountain-like bulk of the Leviathan, and that all-too-familiar figure.
The Queen of Blades, Sarah Kerrigan.
Even through a display screen, even after all these years, the coldness and detachment in that gaze pierced through time and space like something solid, driving straight into the deepest, most untouched corner of his heart.
That was not the look of a human being. Within it lay no emotion, no memory—only a predator's cold appraisal and calculation, alongside a godlike, detached distance looking down on all living things.
"Commander?" Matt noted Raynor's unusual silence and offered a soft prompt. "We've cleared the Monlyth system. No signs of Zerg pursuit."
Raynor took a deep breath, forcing himself out of that icy stare.
"Stay sharp. Zerg behavior patterns are unpredictable—especially when she makes a personal appearance."
He turned away from the console and walked toward the tactical analysis station.
Tychus and Valerie were already there, the recovered artifact fragment container set on the central workbench.
The fragment rotated slowly within the dampening field, its blue-white light bleeding softly through the container walls.
Valerie was operating a portable scanner, checking the fragment's energy readings.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up, her face bearing a look of professional perplexity.
"Commander Raynor, prior to evacuation, we captured an extraordinarily powerful psionic signal," Valerie pulled up a waveform graph, pointing to a spike so steep it was virtually vertical. "This one right here. The psionic output reached... Class 12. By Koprulu sector standards, that exceeds conventional bio-forms and even the upper output limits of most Protoss individuals. What on earth was that?"
Raynor's eyes rested on that glaring peak.
Class 12. He was all too familiar with that number.
The rating for the most powerful psionic operative produced by the Confederacy's Ghost Program—Sarah Kerrigan—was Class 12.
And now, after Zerg infestation and the infusion of Overmind power, that number could only be higher, far more dangerous.
He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking in a rasping tone: "That was the Queen of Blades."
Valerie had clearly never heard the moniker. She tilted her head slightly, waiting for further elaboration, while Tychus beside her let out a heavy snort.
"The Queen of Blades—supreme ruler of the Swarm as it stands," Raynor spoke unhurriedly, each word sounding as if dragged with effort from the depths of memory. "But a long time ago, she was human. Sarah Kerrigan, top agent of the Terran Confederacy's Ghost Program, Psionic Class 12."
A flash of surprise crossed Valerie's eyes, quickly superseded by an analyst's curiosity toward rare data.
"She helped Arcturus Mengsk overthrow the old Confederacy, but Mengsk deliberately abandoned her on Tarsonis, leaving her to fall into the Swarm's hands," Raynor continued, his tone flat as if telling someone else's story, though the taut line of his jaw betrayed the turbulence within. "The Zerg captured her, and the Overmind personally remade her. She became the Queen of Blades, an extension of the Swarm—no longer human. Now she commands the entire Swarm, one of the most dangerous entities in the Koprulu sector."
Tychus chimed in here, arms crossed, speaking in a tone mixed with coarseness and a strange sort of sentimentality: "What Jimmy isn't telling you is that Kerrigan used to be his old flame. Confederacy's Most Wanted and top Ghost operative—pretty wild, huh?"
Valerie was visibly caught off guard.
Her eyes, usually cool and analytical, darted back and forth between Raynor and Tychus. Then, she suddenly let out a sharp, clear whistle—a rough mannerism common among mercenaries and adventurers to express amazement or respect.
"You slept with a woman like that?" Valerie's tone held unreserved shock, even a hint of... admiration? "Commander, I've gotta say, that is damn badass."
This overly blunt, almost vulgar assessment made the muscles on Raynor's face twitch.
He let out an intensely bitter smile and shook his head.
"That was a long time ago, Miss Valerie. And back then, she was still Sarah Kerrigan—a human being with plenty of pain and struggle, but someone who still had light deep down." His voice dropped. "Not what she is now... the Queen of Blades."
He waved his hand, putting a stop to the uncomfortable topic and pulling focus back to grim reality.
"The Queen of Blades showed up on Monlyth in person, and her target was explicitly this artifact fragment," Raynor's expression hardened into grim seriousness. "The Swarm is hunting these alien artifacts too, and with her personal intervention, it points to only one thing: these fragments are extremely critical—critical enough to draw the supreme ruler of the Swarm away from the hive and onto the front lines."
He looked at Tychus: "Get in touch with the Moebius Foundation. Tell them the fragment is secured, but warn them at the same time: the Swarm—and specifically forces directly under the Queen of Blades—is actively hunting these fragments too. The situation has escalated beyond simple archaeology or commercial salvage. If they have intel on other fragments, the threat levels and operational plans must be re-evaluated. We... all of us, might already be caught in a game far more dangerous than expected."
Tychus nodded, his expression taking on a rare moment of solemnity: "Got it. I'll lay it out plain. If those Foundation eggheads still treat this like a casual field trip, they've got no one to blame but themselves when they end up dead."
Raynor stole one last glance at the artifact fragment inside the container. The blue-white light flickered quietly, holding ancient, potent power—and drawing the most dangerous of covetous eyes.
Sarah's reappearance hung like the deepest shadow over an already intricate sector landscape.