JAKE RAN TOWARD THE MISTY SWIRL THAT was the center of the warp gate and, overriding his instincts, didn't slow as he raced through. It was suddenly very dark, and then suddenly very bright, and very cold, and the ground beneath him was very slick, and his feet shot out from under him.

He tried to roll and would have succeeded, had the surface upon which he attempted said roll not been ice. As it was he hit the ice hard, slid wildly along its length, and found himself in a pile of snow.

I thought Shakuras was a sort of desert, he thought irritatedly to Zamara as he stumbled to his feet, floundering in the snow that reached his thighs rather than attempting to rise on the ice.

It is, came the maddeningly unruffled reply. We are not on Shakuras.

Jake shivered as the wind knifed him. When he ran through the gate, he'd been sweating heavily from the clammy heat of the Aiur climate, exertion and, yes, nerves, and now he was feeling his soaked clothing actually begin to freeze to his skin. He folded his arms tightly around himself. Where the hell are we then, what went wrong, and what do we do now?

Jake squinted against the brightness of sunlight reflecting off of snow, turning to look in every direction. The only thing he could see in the arctic landscape was snow, more snow, and for a little variety what looked like icebergs over there. The gate was the only evidence that an advanced intelligence had ever been to this place.

Ido not know where we are, and it does not matter. As for what happened, I have, as you humans would call it, a "hunch."

She asked him to surrender his body to her will for a moment, and he obliged, marveling quietly as she moved his legs securely across the slippery surface and lifted his arms to touch the softly glowing surface of the gate. The cold receded, just a bit, as Jake again marveled at the technology of the xel'naga. The combination of nature and science, of mental power and things he, a simple human, could not understand... it was wondrous.

He felt her disappointment and worry seized him. What is it? What's wrong?

It is as I suspected, Zamara replied. The way to Shakuras is blocked. We have been—I think the term you would understand is "locked out."

Locked out? Why the hell would they lock us out?

It is a wise precaution, though inconvenient for us. The last time protoss fled to Shakuras from Aiur, zerg followed them. Shakuras suffered terribly. It was only through a great deal of effort that it and the protoss as a race survived at all, and the planet bears the scars of that battle to this day. I believe that once the protoss guarding the gate realized that Rosemary and her companions had come from Aiur, they ordered the Shakuras gate closed and redirected us here. A hint of humor. Wherever "here" may be. The warp gates are xel'naga technology, not protoss. I have no memory of this place at all. I believe I am the first protoss to have seen it.

Jake was a scholar, and fascinated by mysteries and discoveries. At any other time, he'd have been as intrigued as Zamara was to explore a new place. But he was freezing, he was scared, and a sudden shooting of pain in his temple reminded him that he was dying.

But.. .you just said you think Rosemary and the other protoss got through. Do you think they will convince the guards to open the gate?

She, too, was concerned, he knew, but at his words mirth flowed through him, warm and light.

If you were a protoss, how would you react to Rosemary?

Oh my God, he thought. You 're right. She '11 probably punch the first one who gets in her way.

I do not think so. She may wish to, but she has learned much. She has been tempered.

Unbidden, the term the misled and misused followers of Ulrezaj had chosen to describe themselves came to Jake's mind: Forged.

In a way, yes. That is apt. However, I believe the protoss will eventually agree to admit us to Shakuras.

Eventually? I can't stay here for that long. Not even for another few minutes, not without shelter or food.

I know. Let me think.

He did, taking his body back from her and moving as quickly as he dared on the slippery surface to stay warm. Cut-off pants, a sleeveless vest, and a light shirt, perfectly appropriate garments in Aiur's stifling humidity and unforgiving sun, served him not at all here.

I have reached a decision. Your hands again, please.

He watched as again she lifted his hands to the gate and began to do—whatever it was that programming the gate entailed. So what are we going to do?

We go back through the gate.

He laughed, a short harsh bark of a sound. He was starting to lose feeling in his limbs and face. We can't reach Shakuras; where do we go? How do we find these dark templar you need to reach?

If we are prevented from reaching Shakuras, the home of the dark templar, for the moment, then we will seek aid from a certain dark templar who is probably not on Shakuras.

Who is that?

Prelate Zeratul.

Jake's mind was suddenly awash in images and memories, none of which he could grasp in their entire complexity at this point but all of which served to give him a good idea of the nature of this dark templar. Age and wisdom were the predominant characteristics that graced this being. Although Jake knew that the Aiur protoss and the dark templar were the same species, there were subtle physical differences. The protoss he had befriended had skin that came in a variety of blue and gray. Zeratul s skin seemed almost purple, very dark where it encircled deep-set eyes, but lightening to pale lavender along the various ridges that also made him stand out from other protoss. Alzadar and Ladranix had almost smooth skin, with no bumps or ridges to mar the curves of their features. Zeratul's chin was long, thin, and ivory-colored.

There were other differences, too, differences of perception and sensation that Zamara imparted to him. The Aiur protoss had been fond of gold hues, as of the sun, but the dark templar in his mind's eye seemed almost swathed in shadow. One of Zeratul's arms was encased in a bracer that looked familiar to Jake; he'd seen similar bracers in action when Ladranix had sliced off the crystal Jake now carried in one of the many pockets of his vest. This piece of armor channeled psionic power and enabled the templar to wield the beautiful, graceful, and deadly psi blades. Zeratul's bracer was darker, and Jake wasn't sure if it was his imagination that made him see shadows swirling around the armor. The rest of his garb was also dark—soft, heavy robes of a rust color trimmed with brown fur. Jake knew that in keeping with dark templar tradition, his nerve cords had been ritually severed. All that was left of them was a short cluster, tied back in a ponytail. Dark templar could never enter the Khala because of this self-mutilation, even if they wished to. It was a defiant and permanent action.

Jake thought back to young Raszagal, of her pride and astonishing intellect. He thought of the other dark templar, herded like animals onto a ship of alien construction, a vessel no one was certain would even work properly. Exiled because the Conclave was afraid of them.

Ididn't realize you had the memories of someone who had known a dark templar! I mean, known one after they were banished. I'm looking forward to learning about them firsthand—well, as firsthand as preserver memories can be. They seem very wronged.

They were. The true tragedy is that the Conclave honestly believed that killing them—a stance Adun forced them to later mitigate to banishing—was the best thing to do for the protoss as a race. But the dark templar were not idle. They learned many, many things as they explored the Void in their centuries of exile. If we are fortunate, you will get to meet Zeratul as well.