(A/N: I have been using the character Nova even before Starcraft Ghost came out. DISCLAIMER: all other than my custom characters, etc. belong to Blizzard Inc. I've been writing uploaded fanfics with Nova as the main character while I've been using Shaiera in my pen and paper fanfics. As I come back to fanfic writing, I'm gonna try and merge their characters into a single fanfic. Shaiera the healer and Nova the templar. This is gonna be my first complete fanfic starting from their history to the brood war. . By the way, I just found out that their characters actually reflect who I am and what I want to do in life. That's why I'm gonna put them together... maybe it could reflect in real life.)

Chapter 1: Slow Impact

“Psionic signature, normal”

These words ended the simulation. Slowly, the hologram disguising the whole room faded from that of a healing station to the training room. One by one, the Khalai trainees adjusted to the real environment as they saw each other surrounding an area where the “casualty” had been.

“I congratulate you, Ashcan. You have performed well” praised the mentor healer standing at the far end of the room. He had been the miniature pylon crystal present in the hologram earlier. Ashcan bowed in respect and gratitude. He deserved praise, for it was he who had saved the casualty’s life when their mentor decided to have the subject’s heart succumb to failing.

As the Khalai mentor announced their marks, all ten healer trainees stood in attention; silent and unmoving. As soon as the mentor had finished and left the room, they all began to relax and speak with each other. Ashcan in particular, was receiving praises from his comrades.

“I never thought of using Khaydarin influenced shock to rouse a failing heart.”

“The subject was a high templar, he would be able to withstand the influence” explained Ashcan.

Away from the little crowd, two female trainees were speaking privately. One was from the Furinax, the tribe most of the healer trainees rose from. The other was of the Velari, a templar tribe, but being female; wanting to become a templar was a far fetched option. Fortunately by her own choice, she chose to become a healer.

“I adore him so, Shaiera” remarked the Furinax, Kaera.

“I do not object, he is one of the finest trainees. He is also good natured” the addressed Velari replied as they observed the purple tinted male protoss.

As the trainees began to disperse, Shaiera separated from Kaera; allowing her time with Ashcan whom she spied walking alone. The Velari watched them a while, walking on home right after. She passed a large, dome shaped edifice with the entrances heavily guarded. Shaiera looked up at its shiny surface as it reflected the light of the setting sun.

…

“I do not believe we should be here” said a worried silver tinted female. Her two companions glanced at her with reassurance. The ceiling curved high up inside the coliseum, the sides lined with seats leveling up from the already twenty foot high elevation of the lowest row. Amidst the cheering spectators, the floating balcony reserved for the high ranking templar and judicators brought stoic faces into view.

“Dewa, Kainera. Are those the members of the conclave?” Asked one of the three silver tinted protoss.

“Yes, Nova. There too are the Executor, Praetor and other high ranking templar under their command” added Kainera.

The three of them were about find seats when Dewa suddenly sprawled out onto the ramp. Kainera kneeled beside her immediately while Nova tuned to face a female from the Akilae tribe. Her body was well built and was clad in the armor of a zealot. Without much of a glance, the Akilae shoved past her and down the ramp towards her seat.

Nova seemed to forget her standing and called, “How dare you disrespect us like this?”

The Akilae turned slowly, some protoss sensed the commotion and looked towards them.

“Saranac”

The Akilae turned slightly to see an elite zealot of the Sargas watching them.

“The listing is not yet finalized. You may sign up if you would want.” He said, eyeing Nova.

The battle arena has been the place to sort out feuds for as long as Nova could remember and never once did she expect to be pulled into such a thing. The Akilae looked at her in a way that seemed to challenge. Nova, to her friends’ surprise did not back down.

“Follow me” instructed the Sargas as he began to walk.

The females being addressed followed without a sound.

…

“Focus… Focus…” these words echoed in Shaiera’s mind as she knelt by a pylon, trying to focus maximum psi into a mineral shard fashioned as a blade. She held on tight as the metal handle grew hot with energy. Knowing she could not hold on any longer, she let go. Her hands were still shaking as she looked up at the dome. It had been rebuilt for the purpose of settling disputes. It was supposedly sacred, but lately it had been considered a sport by some and the conclave did not have anything against this for they found most of the finest warriors through this competition.

Shaiera looked down at the dagger, waiting for it to cool. She did not intend to use it for battle but for healing. She had seen the dragoons during their tour in the healing facilities on Aiur and felt that maybe there was a way for them to maintain their body instead of depending on machines immediately. She picked up the dagger, remembering how she had picked up the shard back in her younger years to open up her skin where a blood clot had formed and painfully swelled. The shard was being formed for a pylon and was active when she had used it on her arm. After the wound had opened, she felt intense warmth from where the shard touched her skin. After a while, her skin was fully healed.

She slowly got on her feet as she saw the zealots approaching on their patrol, she preferred not to be questioned being so near a pylon. Keeping the dagger concealed in her robes, she walked towards her dwelling.

…

“Kainera, we have to stop her!”

“No Dewa” replied Kainera, who held her by the arm. “Nova knows what she is doing.”

“But--”

“It is not just about you…” Kainera said, looking into her eyes “You know that”

Dewa stared; she knew what her friend meant. In the venue, there was almost no other silver tinted skin in sight. For they were of the lost tribe of Zentrir, one of the tribes swallowed by the Aeon of Strife. They were of the few pure Zentrir left in existence. Most from their tribe have decided to blend in with the still existing tribes but some, like the three of them, were loyal to the Zentrir and wished to bring up their tribe once again.

The two of them braced themselves as they settled in their seats, watching as their friend walked into the arena.

“A rare occurrence” commented one of the judicators on the balcony. “It is rare females come to this extent” The templar merely nod, the rest of the judicators began to speak among themselves. It was a trained zealot against a silver tinted female of low rank. It seemed predictable but there were many possibilities.

As she entered the arena, Saranac slowly began to take off her armor as was in respect to the rules. Nova looked at her straight in the eye as she took off her brown robe. Both of them stood in their light inner clothing.

“Prepare” said the booming voice of the announcer “Begin”

As the signal came, Saranac ran forward with the zeal of a templar. Nova went into a defensive stance, caught the first punch and took hold of Saranac’s fist. With narrowed eyes, the Zentrir pulled and her other hand closed into a fist, aiming a punch to the abdomen. Saranac was quick, catching the punch with her hand. Swiftly, she brought up her foot and kicked Nova in the chest. The silver tinted protoss was hit directly and was sent sprawling on her back.

As the crowd emanated excitement, Saranac ran towards her opponent and jumped into the air. Nova struggled to rise, only to fall back down heavily as Saranac’s foot hit her chest. The Zentrir’s eyes widened in pain; she felt as if she was being crushed. The Akilae jumped off her and dropped backwards aiming her elbow at her opponent’s throat. Nova rolled to the side in time, rising into a crouch as she held her chest.

Up on the balcony, Praetor Fenix watched the duel in amusement. “Executor, as I recall, I injured you badly during our last duel here.”

“I recall that you lost consciousness as you neared the healer’s station” replied Tassadar

“Neither of us was pronounced victor.”

“Indeed”

Tassadar answered absentmindedly as he looked down at the Zentrir. His eyes narrowed, the Zentrir had been one of the first tribes to challenge the Sargas back in the Aeon of Strife. They say that a natural calamity, a quake, brought down rocks and boulders from the mountains serving as the Zentrir village’s cover down onto them. The survivors were few. They say the warriors of the Zentrir were locked in battle with the Sargas at that time and another tribe managed to assault their village directly. The village survived the attack, but not the falling rocks and boulders that came after a short while.

A cry of battle was heard from Nova as her eyes challenged Saranac. The Akilae was fast to prepare a defense but was not ready to witness the type of attack she awaited.

Nova stretched out one arm up and another forward, her left foot placed forward. Dewa and Kainera let out long cries soon followed by a few more Zentrir who had been in hiding. The crowd not of the tribe slowly grew silent as the witnessed the earth around Nova’s feet swirl as if cut through by a circling wind. Nova’s eyes glowed a sharp silver as she attacked Saranac. Saranac defended herself from quick, light swipes from her opponent’s feet and hands. In confusion, she was caught off guard by a gentle swipe to the face. The Akilae stepped back, her eyes widening as her cheek felt as if swiped by a blade. A wound slowly formed and began to bleed.

The crowd radiated wonder and surprise as they witnessed the extraordinary assault. Dewa and the rest of the Zentrir present were on their feet, proud that Nova had been able to display their tribal attack.

Saranac’s eyes glowed in anger and she went into a stance familiar to Fenix and the rest of the Akilae. Up on the balcony, the high ranking judicator and templar watched with excitement. The duel was getting serious and more interesting now that a Zentrir has displayed a long forgotten assault.

Saranac lunged with a cry, meeting Nova’s assault head on.

…

“Can it not work?” asked Shaiera to no one in particular.

She looked at the dagger on her table; reviewing the tests she had done over the years to rediscover the wonder. She had in mind to attempt to input a higher amount of psi for greater and dire wounds. It had been warm when she had used it on her wound but attempting to use more psi proved the heat impossible to endure. She had wounded herself a couple of times in an attempt to activate the healing psi but it never worked. It might have been because of age or of the depth of the wound. Numerous times, she attempted to resolve the problem. Yet, it seemed even having the shard at maximum would not help.

She stood slowly and walked to a vacant room. She seated herself and began to meditate in an attempt to clear her mind.

…

Battle cries from both the Akilae and the Zentrir were heard as they maintained close combat. The trained Saranac had the endurance and the guidance of the templar and soon gained the upper hand. Nova’s body was not used to this much pressure and slowly began to give. A strong punch from the Akilae ended the duel as the Zentrir’s body failed to recover.

Saranac’s victory was evident, yet she did not seem to be able to savor her success for what she had gone through left her form tainted with blood and her mind in wonder. The crowd returned to their usual clamor while the zealots brought the combatants out of the arena.

“The technique of the Akilae remains unmatched” commented Tassadar, looking at the staring Fenix

“I suppose. But the Zentrir was… untrained” said Fenix

“The templar had barely finished a year of training”

Fenix merely looked back into the arena, still in wonder. Judicator Anlizas Va asked for Tassadar who approached him in his seat and bent near him. The Executor nodded walking to dismount the balcony.

Nova lay on her bed, alone in a room when the door slid open. She sat up in a start, seeing the Executor himself before her.

“En Taro Adun, Executor!”

“En Taro Adun”

Nova looked at him. She still felt weak, but was determined to keep her composure in front of him.

“Nova, am I correct?”

“Yes, Templar”

“The judicators provide you with an option; to join the ranks of templar.”

Nova’s eyes widened in surprise; she, a female from a lost tribe, was being given an opportunity to become a templar. She thought of her tribe, those in the coliseum, who had supported her. She had long wanted to bring recognition to her tribe. Maybe, this was her chance.

“I accept, templar”

“The judicators will be pleased. Your timetable shall be sent to you”

…

“I nearly failed…” Shaiera said mentally, looking at her mark on a flat, square shaped crystal

“Ashcan! I am proud of you” exclaimed a pleased Kaera.

Ashcan had the highest mark; following him was Kaera who had been working hard to be in level with him. Shaiera felt crestfallen, knowing only three of the group would be given a chance to be recognized and be candidates for higher training early on. Their mentor told them of the three fortunate trainees and that they would go to higher training starting tomorrow, five years earlier that the average trainees. Kaera and Ashcan shared a special glance. The Velari bowed her head, aside from not having anyone to comfort her was the shame of not being able to excel though from a templar tribe.

She left the area slowly, keeping away from her comrades. She later found herself seated underneath a tree which shaded her from the afternoon sun. The glow of her eyes reduced to faint as she reviewed her mark. She looked into the detailed marks and saw that her lowest was in the area of focus. That was of using the right amount of energy to put through an apparatus to be used on a casualty.

“En Taro Adun, Shaiera”

The addressed looked up, “En Taro Adun, Templar” she greeted, as she got to her feet.

The templar of yellow tint held her shoulder and sat beside her. He was clad in zealot armor and was fresh from training. He glanced at her mark and his eyes glowed gently in wonder.

“What had happened to your mark?” he asked.

Shaiera answered by handing him the crystal.

He looked into the details and blinked, “Focus? I have seen you practice countless times”

Shaiera was silent, she had been practicing but it was in discovering the secret of the healing crystal. She did not feel ready to tell him about it so she merely emanated pure disappointment. The templar handed back the crystal.

“Shaiera, I insist that you take up templar training”

“Daemus, we have discussed this before. I am not interested. Besides, it would be nearly impossible for me”

Daemus shook his head, “You are more than qualified. You are a Velari, descendant of the high family”

“I am female. Besides, I wish to help heal” Shaiera said

The templar was silent, worry evident in his eyes.

“I will be alright, I promise you”

At the distance, protoss began to move out of the dome. The two of them watched as the judicators filed out in order.

“The Executor”

Shaiera followed Daemus’ gaze and looked towards a Sargas high templar walking with a brown robed female. For a while, Shaiera watched the silver tinted protoss. Somehow, she felt something was bound to happen. They would meet… soon.