It was a darkness as pristine as the edge of the galaxy, and as littered with stars. It was many, and the many were one. Even as it watched the trillion stars which made up its mind moving steadily and slowly through the abyss which made up its mind, it was those stars, every single one of them. A trillion points of light. The many, ascended to oneness, to wholeness. It remembered the Nazara, the proud, bellicose conquerors of the galaxy. It was the Nazara, all of them. But the very center of that galaxy sat the center of its soul. And that soul was troubled. The Resplendent Sovereign of Nazara turned its attention inward, to the tiny thing which moved through its veins. It was a god, turning attention to a bacterium upon its perfect form. But it was an important bacterium. The process continued apace. Soon, the tool would be perfected. It turned its attention outward once more, to the center, as far from its ilk as one could be. He could hear their quiet drone, songs like oily shadows. They spoke now with one voice, but were not whole. They had not ascended. They could not. A part was missing. So they continued to use the one who remained. And Nazara turned its attention back to the stars which was its soul. There came a song, stronger than any Nazara had ever sang. With it, it felt the trillion lights being pushed away, as something stronger entered its mind, speaking the way only the ascended, only the perfected could speak. It was great. It was powerful and ancient beyond all reckoning, even to something as intelligent as Nazara. But unlike any whom Nazara had ever encountered, in the great and innumerable host which even now slept in the blackness at the galaxy's edge, this one was not a single composed of the many. It was not a peoples turned into one Avatar. The Divine Harbinger of Ascension was one. It had always been one. It would always be one. NAZARA. It turned its attention to the sole being in the cosmos which was its greater. “It has been long since you contacted us, Harbinger. Very long.” WHAT NEWS FROM THE THRALLS? It looked upon the Core once again, to that den of exploding stars and black holes. “They labor still. The Avatar of Vengeance has not appeared. Our work cannot end. Breeding continues.” THE CYCLE MUST CONTINUE. EITHER THE AVATAR OF VENGEANCE WILL BE DISCOVERED, OR HIS DEATH WILL COME, AND ANOTHER WILL BE BORN. THE FAILURE OF LEVIATHAN MUST BE RECTIFIED. FIND THE AVATAR, AND END THE CYCLE, SO WE CAN FULFILL OUR DESTINY. “There has been a complication,” Nazara pointed out. The unthinkable greatness of Harbinger turned upon it, its eight eyes burning gold as it glared down at the cuttle-fish like form of Nazara, to a layman identical, but of a whole other form of life. “The cycle continues without our input.” IMPOSSIBLE. “They have created synthetic life. The Cycle has ripened. My attempts to curtail biologically them have not been successful. Leviathan only has a token force, but he is undependable. Synthetic life will destroy organic life. The time has come.” There was a long silence. YOU ARE TO ASSUME DIRECT CONTROL OF THIS PROCESS. THE ACTIVATION SIGNAL HAS NOT FIRED. OUR BRETHREN YET SLEEP. “The organics have sabotaged the signal. I have taken steps to rectify this. I will awaken our brothers and sisters.” Another silence, as Nazara felt the impressive weight of Harbinger staring down upon it. YOU ASSUME MUCH. IF THE CYCLE CONTINUES, THEN ANOTHER AVATAR HAS ARISEN. WE MUST FIND ANOTHER WAY. DO NOT FAIL, RESPLENDANT SOVEREIGN. OR I WILL BE FORCED TO ASSUME DIRECT CONTROL. And with that, the greatness and power of Harbinger ascended away, returning the heavens to Nazara's mind. And Nazara turned its gaze inward, and listened to that bacterium inside its body. And it listened to [DESIGNATION TURIAN] say: “...then it can only be on Eden Prime. Sovereign will be quite pleased, if it does truly lead us to the Conduit.” And it was.