There were no children here.
There was the Queen of Blades, tending to her new crop of zerglings. A new strain of their DNA, new potentialities. New mutations. It was a good day.
More and more, the hunger called to her, the Swarm's voice joining it. Gonowgonowinfestinfectfeed. In the end, she was a slave to it, she knew this. But she was Kerrigan, and she would not go down so easily; she would not move until she said it was time.
Until then, she would keep saying: stop. Wait.
Even to River's voice whenever she cried out for more dances, whenever she threatened to start tearing into flesh just to sate the hunger.
There were no children here, but here, on this platform, Kerrigan was coaxing to life a new brood, a more patient one, a more destructive one.
Maybe these were her children.
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