Catalyst

Chapter 1: Worlds apart

(Transition)

Just when Abathur was beginning to give up hope, he felt something new at the edge of his consciousness. A rift, a vortex, a gap, something was pulling at him. Something that promised salvation, offering to take his mind and his essence away from the Terrans and their war machines, away from his impending death. Where this vortex lead, Abathur couldn't say.

But if the choice was between certain doom and an uncertain destination, there was only one real option. Abathur allowed the anomaly to pull at him. His mind was the first to go through, with everything else following behind him. Survival was uncertain, but that was better than impossible. Abathur's last thought was that he hoped that he wasn't making a horrible mistake, before his mind was pulled through the anomaly and time lost all meaning.

(Transition)

The ritual was very quickly going wrong. A small error in one of the containment runes had caused the energy that was supposed to call and form the summoned being to cascade wildly around the small room, twisting and thrashing at the participants of the ritual. They clasped their hands to their head as alien thoughts rushed through their mind, or writhed in pain as unknown things crawled through their flesh, or both. The majority was pushing itself into Vivira, funneling into her. Ollivander had to do something. In a panic, he stopped feeding his magic into the ritual circle, cutting the flow. With a final pulse of light, the rest of the formation grew dark.

Unfortunately, the damage was already done. Half of the summoners lay dead on the ground, their flesh twisted into mocking caricatures of human beings. Defous had limbs bursting out of his stomach, Iwyn was covered in bony spikes, and Jedelis lay prone on the floor, his lower body twisted like a snake. Faris and Ollivander had crumpled to the floor, clutching their skulls. Vivira was the only one with intact vocal chords who wasn't screaming, instead lying prone on the floor and clutching her stomach. It was a scene straight out of a horror novel.

Later, when the Aurors arrived to investigate reports of bright lights and chaotic magic, they found a ruined ritual circle, and ruined people to match it. After a few questions were asked of the survivors and the purpose of the ritual was discovered, no charges were pressed. No one could blame them for wanting to help fight You-Know-Who, and the only people who had suffered their folly were the participants of the ritual.

The participants who were still alive got ferried to St. Mungo's. The rest were taken away in body bags. Ollivander and Faris were diagnosed with moderate brain damage, while Adeviar needed whole organs to be regrown with potions, and even then, he was horribly disfigured. Vivira, it turned out, was pregnant, much to the surprise of both her and her husband.

The survivors of the ritual, were released after they finished healing, with strict warnings never to try it again. Unnecessary warnings, after seeing their friends' corpses. Ollivander returned to the wand shop, Vivira prepared for a child with her husband, and Adeviar returned to his job, far away from prying eyes. All of them tried to live as best they could, but they all bore the scars of that night for the rest of their lives.

(Transition)

Abathur was... confused. His mind had gone through the anomaly, he was certain, but he had no idea where he was. He saw nothing. He felt nothing but warmth and liquid. What little he heard was muffled and distorted. He could barely move. All he could do was think, and even that felt strained, as if a thick sludge smothered every fold of his mind. All he could really do was squirm and wait. And wait. And wait.

(Transition)

On December 7th, 1979, Vivira Jaren died while giving birth to Thenabar Jaren, a healthy, if somewhat premature child. On that day, Abathur opened his eyes for the first time in nine months.

Leviathan: There are no creatures in the entirety of the Zerg Swarm that can match the sheer scale of the leviathan. The chief capital ships of the Zerg, leviathans function as a combination of troop transport, boarding vessel, front line brawler, carrier, and everything and anything in between. The battlecruisers of the terran, the carriers and motherships of the protoss, none of these craft can compare to the leviathan in terms of strength, utility, or sheer size. The main attack of the leviathan comes in the form of massive tendrils extending from its front, which slam into and impale opposing forces. Their tendrils are also capable of deploying zerg troops, similar to a nydus worm. In addition, leviathans can spawn mutalisks and brood lords, or drop sacs containing any number of zerg creatures or structures. Unlike most zerg strains, leviathans are extremely difficult and expensive to create. The only being that has managed to do so in battlefield conditions is Abathur. The loss of a leviathan is a steep one, but with time and resources, a new titanic living warship is always ready to do battle.

If you like this story I suggest going to the original source here
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12515480/1/Catalyst

And if you want more like this I suggest going to the original author of this story Strandshaper's home page here
https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9294091/