“You were chosen by Zordon, I have faith in his wisdom.”

So did they. She thought of it now as she watched the water slam into the rocks below her. This was the place where she had found them.

His children. Their children, her mind corrected.

“We plan to have children, don’t we, Dulcea?” Zordon asked.

With tears of joy she nodded. “Oh, yes.” She smiled as she imagined the tiny little buddle of joy in her arms.

“I can imagine you, full of our child,” he said before he covered her lips with his.

Fighting Tengu warriors without powers, and failing. She had been rude, not wanting to listen, to understand, why they were here.

She shed a tear, for a lover who was now forever gone. His sacrifice so noble, there were no words to describe it. For centuries after his imprisonment in the Time Warp, she prayed for his return to normal. To her, and to the children who would come from them.

“Honor me with your hand in marriage, make me your husband...”

There had been an expression on his face, she remembered now, that no words could describe. But the joy didn’t last long . . .

“Love, what’s wrong?”

There was a pain in his face she never seen before, uncertainty showed clearly.

“There is a battle which I must attend.”

“But . . .”

The news had broken her heart, stabbed her soul until she only felt pain. Could remember nothing but the pain and loneliness. 

“My lady.” The guard bowed.

“Yes?”

“I bring news, regarding the Morphing Master.”

Her breath was caught.

“Well, what is it?”

“Empress Rita, of the Alliance of Evil, has trapped the Morphing Master Zordon in a Time Warp.”

She fainted.

Now the same dreams and hopes she carried were shattered beyond recall forever. Another tear was shed, but she refused to give into the pain of a broken heart. His children were already shedding their tears. That alone pained her. More than she had counted on.

She was a Master Warrior of her planet. And that same planet needed her.

“Dulcea, you have been assigned to take over Phaedos as the Warrior.”

She nodded at the words of Dimitria, the Morphing Mistress.

“Zordon would have been proud.”

“He would have been indeed,” she managed to say.

And he had been. She took a deep breath and managed these words . . .

“Till we meet again, my love,” she whispered huskily. And never noticed that the spirit of that very Morphing Master watched her, with a broken heart.

Dulcea, the Master Warrior of Phaedos, would wait patiently until it was her time to join the one man she loved most in heavens above.