Nyra stood imperiously on the balcony of the Grand Palace, looking down at the teeming crowds celebrating Foundation Day below. Such naive, malleable souls. Their faith in the holiday's empty pageantry only made them more pliable and dependent.
Behind her, engineers were already dismantling the elaborate floats even as confetti still rained. The twin suns cast everything in a garish carnival glow, heightening a building headache behind Nyra's eyes. Or perhaps that dagger-like pain came from within, not any external source...
Since her awakening, the clarity of vision seemed to wax and wane unpredictably, flooding Nyra's consciousness with vivid sensations and impressions at random. The imperial physicians had no explanations, except that her transformation by the Argus artifacts was still evolving in unpredictable ways. She waved off their concerns - a small price to bear for the greater power simmering within her now.
During the festivities, Nyra had felt the fawning crowds' adoration and devotion toward her like currents of psychic energy. She realized then the full potential at her fingertips - the masses' fanatical fervor distilled into pure authority. What need was there for inefficient democracy or policy when ideals alone could compel?
A new epoch was dawning, and Nyra saw now the old order of rules and institutions must fall away to unleash mankind's true destiny. Fear and awe would unite the masses more surely than any constitution. Nature bowed only to singular vision focused through righteous will.
Since the awakening, Nyra had sensed building cosmic forces just beyond the veil of perception. BOOMING ENERGY STRANDS CALLING FROM THE VOID BETWEEN WORLDS... She must complete her apotheosis before they fully manifested. Then not even oblivion could threaten the Federation again.
Donning a neuro-tiara connected to the Argus shards, Nyra stimulated atrophied neural pathways and primordial glandular nodes. The shadows in the chamber took on density as cosmic veins pulsed at the edges of her vision. She was so close now to transcending...
But a discordant explosion of images and sensations shattered Nyra's concentration - visions of monstrous war machines devouring worlds, crazed mobs tearing down governemnt strongholds, and worst of all, Jason's pleading face consumed in nuclear fire, crying out for mercy...
Nyra ripped the tiara free, breathing heavily. What dark omen had she glimpsed? Were these warnings of anarchy and betrayal awaiting if she strayed from the righteous path? She must move swiftly to instill order before chaos took root.
"Summon my Cabinet," Nyra commanded her Wyrd adjutants. "It is time they understand where true authority lies in our great society. The blind require vision."
When the ministers assembled, their faces showed surprise at the plain military uniforms Nyra's honor guard now wore. She allowed the tense silence to draw out, feeding their anxiety.
"My friends, let us end pretenses," Nyra finally said. "You have been loyal servants in building the Federation to greatness. But greatness now requires conviction. You each must embrace the visions, or be cast aside."
As one, the ministers dropped to their knees in capitulation, some more reluctantly than others. Good... she could work on their conversion in time. But all would serve the awakening purpose.
"A new epoch begins," Nyra proclaimed. "Too long have enlightened voices been drowned under mob ignorance. That ends today. Go now and spread my vision to all quarters."
One anxious minister dared speak. "Admiral... you propose radical change without process or consensus. Revolution risks chaos as much as stagnation. We must be judicious in restoring our people's full spirit."
But his words faltered beneath Nyra's piercing gaze. A government that required her patience was already obsolete. She signaled her guards. "Escort him to the detention wing for rehabilitation. His heart still clings to the past."
The other ashen-faced ministers pledged their enthusiastic cooperation and fled the palace. Nyra allowed herself a satisfied smile. Let them spread word to all corners that the Federation's true shepherd had awakened. Soon hearts and minds would be hers to shape.
Donning full military dress regalia, Nyra addressed massed crowds and fleet crews from the Congressional balcony where Jason had once inspired millions with talk of hope and freedom. She kept her words simpler: security, strength, sacrifice. The mob's bloodthirsty roar was all the mandate she required.
Behind the scenes, Nyra ruthlessly muzzled opposition voices and purged Navy commands of the insufficiently loyal. A useful, publicized atrocity pinned on Lakri's dissidents granted pretext to declare martial law. With the masses fearful and fleet firmly in her grip, all pieces were in motion for society's total realignment.
The Argus visions continued haunting Nyra's dreams with apocalyptic imagery - civilizations colliding, infinities multifolded back on themselves, colossal entities that whispered maddening secrets. She realized these nightmares were glimpses of cosmic forces threatening to subsume all they had built. Titanic struggles loomed...
Willing her mind to focus, Nyra donned the neuro-tiara for extended sessions, probing frankly into the artifacts' abyssal origins. She perceived endless cycles of destruction and rebirth across aeons, and the entities who fed on mortals' desperation amid the churning chaos. Here was knowledge perilous to feeble minds. But for Nyra, it illuminated destiny's path - mankind required elevation to stand against encroaching threats. And only through her could that salvation be achieved before the dark tides rose. There was no time for gentle steps. Radiance dawned only through fire's catharsis.
With this dire certainty burning as mission within her, Nyra called her supreme commanders to begin planning the Argus Sanctification Initiative. By integrating the artifacts' cosmic power into loyal citizens' bodies and souls through consecration temples, an unstoppable force would rise.
Of course, not all possessed the mental resilience to withstand apotheosis. But Nyra took inspiration from visionary radicals like Zelich who had purged weakness without mercy to strengthen the race. The titles of citizen and sovereign must be made synonymous, with no place for parasites.
"You each must embrace conversion willingly, or stand condemned as traitors," she told her skeptical senior admirals and officials. "Argus does not elevate the timid."
Some perhaps interpreted her offer as the delusions of an unstable dictator. But seeing the zealots lining up eagerly outside the new consecration temples, Nyra was confident the true believers were still ample. Let the small-minded wait to see wonders emerge before they came crawling. Destiny called her people, and she must prepare them to answer however they might fear the unknown.
As the first consecration candidates emerged, glowing with cosmic energies and singing Nyra's praises, she knew her vision was achieving fruition. Their sermons drew more fearful souls to the temples' doors, sensing the irresistible authority radiating from those touched by transcendence.
"Behold, the Federation's glory made manifest!" Nyra proclaimed before the crowds flocking to see her anointed. "No longer are we scattered frail beings adrift, but part of an awakening whole! Our unity will shine as a beacon through darkness."
Moved by her prophecies, throngs willingly entered the temples despite whispered rumors of those who did not return. But there could be no pause for doubt with oblivion encroaching. All must share unfalteringly in sacrifice.
But beneath Nyra's veneer of confidence, uneasy doubts lingered. The consecrations were rapidly draining the Argus shards' cosmic power with no stable way to replenish. At times, the energies felt more parasitic than symbiotic. And visions persisted of monstrous forces still gathering strength beyond the veil...
Nyra wondered if she had embraced apotheosis too hastily. Perhaps the artifacts' origins should have been deciphered with more care. But the caustic light once unleashed could not be contained until its purpose burned to completion. All pacts made in darkness carried a cost. She prayed fervently her people's souls might endure what must be risked.
With Jason by her side, Nyra knew she could have tempered radical zeal with wisdom and principle. But she had chosen necessity's cold path instead. Now destiny compelled all down its narrowing course. They passed the point of no return. She only hoped their awakened unity might face the end with courage when it came at last, unflinching together before the abyssal night.
Until then, she must harden minds and souls for the struggle ahead. Nyra ordered emergency protocols enacted across all systems. None could be left unprepared. If she could rouse them to stand firm amid fear's rising tide, they might weather even existential storms.
The Federation had been forged in war's crucible against Krann invaders. Now, greater demonic forces stirred hungrily beyond reality's fragile bulwarks. But with Argus's infinite power elevating their wills and perception, Nyra cultivated fanatical hope her people would transcend whatever evil sought to claim them. Madness became faith when existence trembled in the balance.
And so the consecrations resumed with desperate fervor while space seemed to grow strange and distorted around colony worlds. Nyra's uncompromising leadership became the Atlas shouldering all burdens so the rest might fight on without fear. Even immortality paled beside duty's steel resolve. They would proceed together to destiny's end.
Until the day terrified emergency reports arrived in her war room - reality tears spreading rapidly, unleashing nightmarish entities. Sects of the Unspeakable Cardinality had broken through to claim their due... and all minds and souls would be forfeit.
Nyra's forces fought valiantly, but mortal weapons barely slowed the interdimensional invaders zigzagging through fibrinous portals into their universe. Dread pall spread as even her consecrated legionnaires fell screaming into the luminous ruptures. No awakening could arm them for this.
Citadels cracked open, biospheres dissolved in oozing horror. There was no reprieve or hope, no way to defeat beings who supped on despair. Seeing her people broken and pleading as the Cardinalities' cyclopean structures engulfed worlds, Nyra knew sorrow beyond words. All was lost.
Through the growing tempest, Nyra faintly sensed Jason's voice still calling to her from someplace beyond, offering fragile hope if she but let go of ambition's reigns. But the gulf between their paths had grown too wide now. She had chosen righteous glory over compromise, only to reap ruin.
With the fabric of existence fraying, Nyra resolved to confront the interlopers on the capital world as penance. She would fight futilely with the last terrified refugees as the Cardinalities closed in to harvest all souls. At the bitter end, perhaps wisdom stirred through courage.
Nyra stood alone atop Parliament hill wreathed in eldritch flames as reality collapsed. To the desperate people she had led astray, she shouted her defiant apology until the demonic annhiliatrix pylons rang with unmaking energies. To Jason's spirit, she sent her farewell hope he survived to shepherd what few remained. Then she drew her sword and flew to meet soaring doom on indomitable wings one final time. May this fallen angel's courage redeem some fragment of virtue from catastrophe, so others might rebuild.
The singing sword carved fiery scars through cyclopean horrors before Nyra was overcome,REBIRTH howling prayers on her lips. As existence blurred into howling madness, she saw Jason's shadowed silhouette far up above, hand outstretched to pull her to safety if she but reached back across the widening abyss. Their eyes met in melancholy understanding. Then infernal talons tore her plummeting into fathomless darkness and Jason faded forever from sight...
So passed Nyra Redkarn, flawed but bold sentinel against gathering storms. Her uncompromising crusade stumbled into ruin, but redemptive hope flickered on in those nightmares left behind. Existence churned on, birthing new worlds upon the ruins of infinity's clashing shores. And the undying spirit ever cried out for dream's rebirth, however humbled. That eternal spark through darkness was their shell of warmth held against winter's longest night. Until light again took tender root.