Chronicle of Isha, the Goddess of Life (Warhammer 40,000)

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: Well, a dual word play because the "God Symbolism" for a lack of a better word of the Emperor is a figure walking along a blood stained golden path. Much like Khorne is both the Skull Throne and the black armored figure, the Emperor's actual nature is both the path it treads upon and the one making the path.

It's also a reference to how the Emperor's view of what god hood is, and where that path leads.

Isha is also sort of roped in here, because there's a lot of details here that will build later on about her nature as the "Mother of the Aeldari".

Main Part: Hopefully, you've noticed the much faster pacing of the story. I'm not putting as much poetry or prose as I used to, and things are progressing a lot faster. This story is sort of written with the expectation that the reader has almost 0 knowledge of 40K, so it might seem overly explanatory to veterans. (hence the partially loredumpy sections) Especially in the beginning.

I also made this chapter extra-long for those of you who said they like long chapters. I do take some of your request into consideration, so feel free to make them.

Could have split it into two chapters, but I tied all the scenes that fit this title together so you could have some closure to Isha and the Emperor's first meeting with the Aeldari.

I am now out of stock chapters, and have a headache...

Spoiler: Please Please Please

I'm also a minor chaos god, so I literally feed off of the energy of your posts and reviews. FEED ME!

I originally wanted to have Isha euthanize all her children on the Slave Carriers, but that would take too much time so only one family got euthanized. There was a reason for me wanting to have that happen. The reason is still referenced in Isha's lullaby and her last words to Zepholde. No, I do not enjoy killing off Aeldari. That part with the mom and kid was painful to write, and worse to proofread. It was necessary, however, to show more of Isha's nature, and I don't just mean the "wild mother" aspect.

Spoiler

Gods are empowered by thoughts, emotions, prayers, and souls. The Four, Isha, and the Emperor all follow the same rules.
The Old Ones did their work very well. The Emperor has never actually met one, and never really interacted with the sane gods they created.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N 1/2: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading the first half of the chapter.

A/N 2/2: Music recommendations are below

♪1 Homeworld 2 Remastered Soundtrack - The Keeper
♪2 Gekkou no Carnevale OST Cilindro

♪1
The Lead Wing of the Aeldari Dark-Star fighters, Ravynax, absorbed the news from the local psychic net of the slave carriers ceasing to function. Over three quarters had lost communication all of a sudden, and their solar sails and engines were destroyed by the very Wraithbone of the ship.

Their goddess had begun to act against them, and although part of her wanted to turn back to the slave carriers with her fighter squadron, the logical part of her focussed on the greater threat; the burning glow of whatever was on the Mon-keigh flag-ship.

'Their snare is also our salvation.' Ravynax thought to herself bitterly; tightening her grip on the controls of her angular chiropteran shaped craft, cockpit nestled at the base of the sharp spearhead like prow that took the place the animal's head would have been.

Whatever disabled their portal drives had also cleansed the local warp, and the constant feeling of being watched was gone from them; the thing sapping at their souls sent away. They could use their psychic abilities once again. The telepathy and foresight they had used against the green-skins and other belligerent alien races that inconvenienced the Empire had returned with crystal clarity.

No longer would they have to react only to the now against the Mon-keigh's clumsy fighters; blind to the place where the defense turrets on their larger ships' would fire their explosive shells.

'Another slave carrier falls, Lead Wing.' One of the squadron broadcasted to the rest of them. 'She is there.'

'The Mon-keigh flag-ship is our target.' Ravynax broadcasted back. 'The Mon-keigh seek to surround us. Their portside vessels already move to form the second net of a three way trap. It would be best to predict that another battlegroup hides below us in the void.'

'No vessels are present there Lead Wing.' Another retorted, blood lust and anger giving passionate heat to the thought, raising the temperature of Ravynax's own temper.

'The Mon-keigh are foolish, but not stupid.' Ravynax retorted, reasserting control over herself and realigning their conjoined mood with cool calculating thoughts. 'There is or will be another force there. If we cannot see it, it means it has not arrived, or it is composed of smaller vessels Running Silent.'

'Smaller vessels means a vulnerability; an opportunity to bite through their net.' Several of her squadron voiced the same opinion, but Ravynax only shook her head at that.

'It will matter little if we do not destroy their flag-ship. Even now more vessels could be reinforcing this position. We strike them now, so we can flee to strike again later.' Ravynax delivered the thought in a psychic tone that demanded obedience, and the rest of the squadron sent begrudging nods, acquiescing to their senior in both rank and age.

Ravynax pulled her consciousness back from herself, letting her mind fall backwards into the psychic net, spreading her thoughts at a broader level, sending the required formation to the rest of the bombers and fighters following behind them.

The fighters were all sleek craft like hers. All of them were armed with two miniature starcannons nestled in the craft's spearpoint prow, capable of acting like rapid firing guns and guided missile launchers at the same time with the psychically guided balls of plasma they fired.Two brightlances were tucked under the base of each wing, providing penetrating blasts of light to deal with heavier armor.

The Eagle bombers that followed were still streamlined, but bulkier than the fighters overall, almost one and a half times thicker and wider; with two cockpits, one behind the other. Instead of a spearpoint-like nose, the prow of the craft split in two, like a two pronged fork; except the prongs were replaced with katana-like blades. These strike craft carried sonic charges in addition to the weapons carried by the Dark-Star fighters; bombs that let loose shockwaves that warped and deformed anything they touched, detonating enemy munitions inside their magazine and silos, rupturing fuel lines and power cables, and liquifying anything organic the shockwave passed through.

There was no time to form the bombing waves that would efficiently disable and destroy their target; to distribute every sonic charge and brightlance blast efficiently so their weapons did not strike a dead target twice. They would have to attack en masse to overwhelm the Mon-keigh defenders and ensure the escape of their fleet. It was an ugly tactic, and dangerous as well. Their own ships would clutter the void, making flying extremely dangerous. However, with their psychic net and foresight restored, avoiding each other and the enemy munitions should still be possible, even if it would be exhausting.

'Prepare to match speed to target.' Ravynax ordered.

Most void shields of larger vessels reacted to the speed of the projectile impacting it, only becoming impassable to fast moving projectiles and reacting to the slight increase in temperature before the full power of a Pulsar blast hit. Even if the flag-ship's shields had been overloaded to become impervious to all things, matching their speed to its would ensure their strike craft did not destroy themselves on collision.

'Missile launch detected.' One of the squadron called out, and Ravynax saw several thousand puffs of gas erupt across the front half of the flag-ship as missiles were slow-launched from their silos and allowed to slowly drift past the shields, before their rocket engines kicked in, roaring towards them.

'Cut through them and accelerate to maximum velocity!' Ravynax ordered, angered yet impressed at the Mon-keigh's timing.

They were deep within the firing range of the missiles, meaning that each missile would have ample fuel to turn around and follow them after their first pass, forcing their fighters and bombers to accelerate to speeds that would certainly activate the void shields, forcing them to give up their attack.

The Mon-keigh of previous raids were not as patient, firing as soon as they got into range. It was a simple task to avoid the nearly empty rocket engines of the missiles, and then cut apart the vessels that fired them at their leisure. It would not be so easy this time.

Ravynax looked minutes into the future and fired bolts of psychically guided plasma, destroying the missiles that were in her future self's way, opening a hole in the barrage wide enough for her craft to slip through. All the strike craft in her squadron and the ones behind it did the same, or twirled through the holes opened by those in front of them.

Even as they did so, gyros within the center of each missile spun them around, decelerating and then reaccelerating as they turned 180 degrees to follow their targets.

Ravynax snorted to herself as they passed the prow of the flag-ship, now illuminated in the void by the Pulsar beams and plasma blasts dissipating against its shields. This was a delaying tactic. The missiles may be faster than their strike craft, but with such a large gap between them, all it did was prevent them from attacking the flag-ship for a few minutes. All they had to do was run until the missiles' rocket engines were dry, and then turn around to attack the flag-ship.

'Prepare to move past the flag-shi- Ventral turn NOW!' Ravynax's craft's gravitic drives stopped the ship moving forwards, and instantly turned it downwards, moving perpendicular to its past direction as her foresight saw through the Mon-keigh trap. Just as she did so, explosive munitions detonated meters away from her position as masses of defense turrets on the un-shielded aft sections of the two battleships besides the flag-ship pre-fired their rounds in a hail of explosive warheads, creating a wall of fire and shrapnel that blocked the Aeldari's path.

All the fighters followed her orders, but turning while being chased by missiles was a risky move. The missiles had gained several hundred meters, and another evasive maneuver could lead to them losing some of their trailing bombers.

However, the Mon-keighs' own excessive defense turret fire prevented their strike craft from taking off. None of the clumsy fliers would be able to maneuver around their own weapons to strike the Aeldari fighters and bombers.

'Missile launch detected!' One of the squadron reported again, and another wave of missiles were released in puffs of gas, before roaring towards them.

On the other hand, there may be no need for the Mon-keigh to send their fighters. The Aeldari were being surrounded by walls of enemy missiles and bullets, and the first ones to be caught in all this would be the slower and more important Eagle bombers.

'All fighters, about-turn and destroy the enemy missiles! Buy our bombers time till their shields fail!'

The enemy flag-ship had no intention of letting them decelerate to dive under its shields, so the only thing they could do was wait till the firepower of their cruisers depleted the shields so they could attack the ship directly. But, at this range, with the prow of the flag-ship being peppered with Pulsar and plasma fire, and Mon-keigh battleships on either side covering the flanks, the only place they could wait was in a narrow ring of space around the front-half of the ship. A ring of space that was quickly being saturated by homing missiles, coming at them from behind and the side at once.

Ravynax and her fellow Dark-Star fighters dove through their own strike craft, bombers parting around them like a school of fish expertly avoiding a barracuda that had come charging through their group. The last bomber sent the position of the missiles they had seen to the fighters, and Ravynax launched her plasma bolts as soon as she passed the bombers, opening holes in the wall of missiles that were coming towards her.

Several of the missiles turned around, separating into two uneven groups, the smaller of which chased the fighters heading in the opposite direction to the bombers.

Ravynax cut her engines, her craft continuing in a straight line with its remaining momentum, then she turned her ship around to face the missiles. Now flying backwards, her starcannons shot down each missile chasing her before she reactivated both gravitic drives and gunned forwards, chasing after the remaining group of missiles that followed the bombers. Every trigger pull, loosed a storm of individually guided plasma blasts, taking out tens of missiles with every salvo.

Suddenly, the white glow of a dissipating Pulsar beam was replaced with an orange flash. A small part of the flag-ship's shielding had failed, allowing several bolts of plasma and a single beam to impact the armor of the ship. Superheated metal erupted like burst boils from the ship's armor, but there was no white mist or foggy vapor rushing out, indicating the thick hull still stood firm.

'All fighters, clear a path for the bombers!' Ravynax ordered, and they accelerated past the bombers to clear a way through the newest storm of missiles heading towards them. Bombers slipped through the holes opened for them by the fighters, and several dozen entered beneath the shields, before the ones following them quickly turned away as a brief flash of blue appeared in their path; narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the restored void shields.

Explosions criss-crossed the flag-ship's hull as the Aeldari Eagle bombers' sonic charges detonated missile silos and defensive turrets; attempting to reduce the threat to the rest of the bombing squadrons still circling the front half of the flag-ship, and themselves inside the shields.

Ravynax shivered as she felt something move through the immaterium, and looked at where it headed. One of the Eagle bombers suddenly stopped, crumpling as if grabbed by a giant hand, then the psychic grip that held it flung the wreckage right into the path of another bomber, destroying both in a flash of orange flames.

'Concentrate on the bridge!' Ravynax ordered through the psychic net, tracking where the telekinetic hand had originated.

There was no avoiding that attack, no amount of foresight or marining skills could allow them to escape that thing's grasp.

Panic suddenly spread through the entire psychic net, and Ravynax instinctively swiveled her head towards the third Mon-keigh fleet that had appeared.

'Barbarians!' She hissed, fully understanding the trap that had been sprung before them.

'All fighters, prepare for enemy strike craft!' She called out into the psychic net just as the hangar bays of the flag-ship and two battleships all opened.

'Defend the bombers! Get them back to the fleet!'

Hundreds of boxy stubby winged Mon-keigh fighters launched themselves as the defense turrets from the battleships ceased firing, emerging from behind the curtains of auto-cannon shells to deliver their own missiles, lasers, and auto-cannon rounds.

The fighters launched from the hangar doors facing the flag-ship charged straight towards them, while those launched from the hangars facing away from the flag-ship circled around them, cutting off their escape.

Ravynax's plasma fire depleted one fighter's shields, and she rolled out of the way of a laser blast with her foresight, before nailing the Mon-keigh through the cockpit with a brightlance shot in return. But for every fighter she destroyed, two more replaced it. Beads of sweat evaporated almost as soon as they formed from the excess heat her brain was releasing from psychic exertion.

'Do not give chase!' She shouted at one of the other mariners, who'd swerved behind a Mon-keigh fighter, just in time for him to break off as two laser beams and multiple rounds of autogun fire passed where he would have been and where he would have ran had he continued to give chase.

The continued evasion and void skirmishing was taxing them, wearing out their patience and their wits; brains near boiling from psychic exertion. The Mon-keigh fighters were baiting them, taunting them with easy targets followed by several different squadrons ready to pounce on any who tried to go for the kill. Their tactics were beginning to work. Some of the less experienced mariners had already fallen to this simple trap, and the rest were beginning to burn out from the constant dog-fighting they were forced to engage in.

The Aeldari strike fighters were faster, more maneuverable, and more heavily armed than the Mon-keigh. However, the greatest advantage was not the specifications of their weapons, but the mariners inside them.

Each was an experienced veteran with at least several hundred years of service.
Each possessed a psychic mind capable of predicting the future in real-time, and were conjoined in a way that allowed them to move in formatons only dreamed of by human minds.

However, most encounters until now had been won in single skirmishes lasting mere minutes.

For this battle, they had been avoiding munitions, each other, and shooting down missiles that were far smaller than the targets they were used to for the greater part of an hour. Exhaustion was building up inside all of them; allowing rage, bloodlust, and impatience to convince them to take the easy kill.

Now outnumbered and pressed for time, unable to conduct the coordinated strikes or form the wing formations that would have allowed them to dance in and around the Mon-keigh in this melee range of void-combat, their greatest strength was slipping from their hands.

This was not an elegant battle, but a brawl that the Aeldari had been baited into; a muddy fist-fight in the dirt, a primitive battle of stamina and numbers.

'Bombers engage their fighters!' Ravynax ordered. Their fighters were too heavily outnumbered, and they could no longer cover the bombers. Running now would mean certain death from laser fire from behind. Their only avenue of escape would be to thin the Mon-keigh ranks, and hopefully break through to the fleet, already losing cruisers as the Mon-keighs' barbaric strategy progressed.

A sense of dread came from one of her fellow mariners, and Ravynax saw through their eyes squadrons of Mon-keigh bombers heading towards the Aeldari cruisers outside the encirclement of the Mon-keigh fighters.

"Curse you… CURSE YOU!" Ravynax screamed out loud, blowing apart another Mon-keigh fighter with plasma bolts to its engines as she felt her fellow mariners die around her one by one; overwhelmed and surrounded by auto-cannon rounds and laser beams that could have been avoided on their own, but were inescapable in the nets of death the Mon-keigh wrapped around them.

Her skin crawled again as she felt the immaterium ripple, then her heart almost stopped as the echoes of a psychic shockwave rolled over her, ending the lives of all the mariners still trapped underneath the flag-ship's shields.

As she dove past a Mon-keigh fighter, swiveling around to fire a brightlance straight through its exposed rear before spinning forwards again, a great sadness gouged a hole in what remained of her heart.

'Were we so insignificant that you'd use these animals to end us?' Ravynax thought to herself.

She did not regret refusing the offer of the goddess, even if she knew that made her the goddess's enemy. But, if she had to die for her actions, then she would have wanted it to be at the hands of the one they had rejected. At least then, they would have mattered to her. They would have made her raise her hand against them, and it would have shown that at the very least she cared enough about them to strike them down. But her thoughts went unanswered by the goddess, just as they had been when all the gods were forced to abandon them long ago.

The crystalline viewport of the Dark-Star fighter shattered, and the wind was knocked out of Ravynax as Wraithbone wreckage nailed her to the cockpit chair. A stream of stray auto-cannon rounds had hit her in the moment her misery had distracted her.

Ravynax sealed what remained of her suit with a telekinetic patch, and forced blood back into the torn blood vessels with another spurt of psychic energy. Then she turned on the Mon-keigh who'd shot at her, and unleashed every weapon she had on it; blowing up its hull, before cutting the wreckage into three pieces in fiery vengeance.

If she was going to die to these creatures, she would show them what it meant to fight the Aeldari. The dead faces of all she killed would haunt the survivors to their last breath, and they'd speak to their spawn of the sheer relief they felt at surviving the battle. She would kill as many as she could till the last spark of her soul, and the last atom of her ship was incinerated by their weapons. She'd kill and kill and kill and…

Suddenly, Ravynax no longer felt the pain in her gut, nor the feverish heat of psychic exertion. The itchy sensation of salt from dried sweat was gone, and the rage that had burned inside her left, leaving only a long forgotten feeling of peace.

There was a garden before her; wild with long grasses and small flowers, with only soft dirt beneath her feet.

She felt a presence behind her, but before she could turn around, warm arms with soft skin embraced her from behind.

"Mothe-"

Ravynax's fighter exploded as a laser beam pierced it from behind, cutting right through the psychically charged crystal that lay at its center, and passing through the cockpit all in the same instant.

—----------------------------------------
♪2
Isha's psychic embrace carried Ravynax's soul from the battlefield back to her in the last slave carrier, as she did for all the others who died there. Her physical arms laid down the body of another one of her children. There were no other ships the Emperor needed disabled, so she walked from room to room on the last slave carrier to say her last farewells to the occupants of each one.

She cast a side-ways glance at the Emperor and at the battle occurring before them. It was a brutal strategy the humans employed, but not entirely without its own logic. However, the methods of warfare were not her interests, nor her speciality. She was the last one to be called for by the Aeldari warsong; when the battle had already ended, and there was nothing else to be done.

After making sure the Emperor was focussed on the battle, Isha brushed against the golden scar tissue that marred her stomach. Green brown transparent tendrils, like vines or roots, rubbed against it gently; in order to coax the smallest yet complete part of the Emperor's power in such a way that it would remain whole, and not dissolve into immaterial essence or psychic energy.

A psychic cell of the Emperor, in a sense, was what she wanted.

It would not provide her with any new insight into its past nor would it show her some hidden weakness. This cell would be too small, too insignificant for that. After all, it was only because of how minute this cell was that she would be able to hide this investigation of hers from the Emperor.

Replication was impossible, for it was not an actual cell. There was no genetic information inside it, no organelles that she could exploit.

However, it would act as the Emperor's own aura would act.

Green and brown tendrils encircled the cell she had managed to extract and felt around its surface.

This fragment would be an antigen, a foreign particle that could be recognized to form an immune response. No actual antibodies would be created, but she would have a better understanding of what the Emperor's powers were and how to adapt to them.

The Emperor's touch erased the unreal and the immaterial. Even this singular cell she had extracted was singing her probing feelers, reverting them to nothing.

Isha narrowed her eyes. She had her suspicions when she felt its glow burn away the Warp on their first encounter, but had hoped that it was more of a purification ritual that allowed it to do that; not some intrinsic ability linked to its very nature.

Psychic attacks made of wind or lightning would be made in vain. She would spend more energy making the attack than the Emperor would negating it. However, the Emperor's own powers would be unimpeded by its own touch.

'A fittingly tyrannical ability for it.' Isha thought to herself.

She would have to be wary of this passive ability. Only physical attacks would be effective against it.

An overwhelming amount of psychic power could be used to push back the Emperor; hitting it harder and faster than its negation could cope. However, even in that scenario, a prolonged battle of psychic blows, the victor would always be the Emperor. Its negation would ensure its opponent used more power than it.

Isha felt the simultaneous death of hundreds of her children as one of the Eclipse-class cruisers's psychic crystal core detonated from exposure to the humans' lance batteries. Their dying cries and curses flowed into her, and their souls entered her body empowering her a little bit more.

Isha compressed the extra-strength she gained, hiding it from view as she had done so when the Warp Plagues and Enslaver hordes broke out. It was a long time before a treatment was found, and both she and her children had to hide their psychic signatures while the creatures did nothing but endlessly multiply using the psychic species less prepared than them.

The Emperor may have counted the number of Aeldari souls, possibly even estimated the amount of time each one had existed, and came to the conclusion that she could never rival it. If only it could ask itself the question, 'Why did the Three only appear long after the War in Heaven; the greatest conflict filled with war, death, and deceit?'

Then again, it only knew what it had experienced. Perhaps it thought itself clever for re-using the ashes of those it consumed, not realizing the waste that it made with every cremation.

Isha rose, still analyzing and planning while at the same time collecting the thoughts and souls of her children. Her feet carried her to the next room, and her hand tore open the Wraithbone she had used to seal the occupants inside.

If she had faced the Emperor before the Fall, she would not have had to worry about any of this. Efficiency was only necessary when two opponents battled on similar levels. It was only in this depleted shrunken state that she would have to fear it.

There were ways she might be able to destroy it, but to do that would mean a corruption of her own nature, possibly even fatal if she couldn't digest it fast enough. That was, however, a last resort; and even then it might not be worth it.

Her objective was not the usurpation of man, or revenge against the Emperor. It was always her children, first and foremost. Even as she ended the life of another one of them, euthanizing the shivering man in her arms painlessly.

If servitude bought the lives of her children, then she would serve. However, seeing the Emperor's nature brought both hope and worry at the same time. She was the daughter of Morai Heg, and the mother of Lilieath. Prophecy may not be one of her powers, but it would be foolish to assume that the middle of such a bloodline was blind to the future.

That golden figure was the protector of mankind; formed by its species to defend against the various Warp predators that lurked in the depths of the immaterium. That explained its inherent rejection of unreality.

However, its endless stride through the dark meant it could never stop and it could never relent. To do so would mean the end to its entire existence and the end of everyone aboard the bricks it laid.

There was also the issue of who it carried upon its path. Only one species was there, and even they were not safe from it. If the Emperor ever did conquer the galaxy, then all others would forever live in humanity's shadow, if they were even allowed to exist at all.

The Emperor may have stated that her children could live in its domain, but she would need to confirm the details of what that entailed.

Isha also sensed other dangers within it. The Emperor was not a stable being. She had no interest in being dragged down with it when it eventually broke. The hypocrisy of what it was and what it said it was could not be sustainable. Not to mention the brief bit of philosophy it had revealed to her.

It hated gods and hated godhood. Even though it had achieved apotheosis long ago.

Part of it might be to avoid the eventual fate all gods met that it espoused. However, there was something else there. Otherwise, the simplest way to avoid its own predicted fate would be to stop being a god.

There were some who had done that, deserters of the War in Heaven. But, the Emperor had not taken that path. It was still a god with mortal followers.

It needed to be a hypocrite for some reason, but for what?

Isha laid the body of the man to rest and closed his eyes; blood and brains on her hand sinking into her skin, as if to symbolize the return of her children to her body.

The Emperor's self-deception was deeply ingrained in it and extremely important to it. It wouldn't have made the threat to hand her over to Chaos when she called it a god if it wasn't.

Isha puzzled over its nature as she walked to the next room.

Gods were beings of thoughts and dreams, unconscious and conscious.

The brief touches Isha made against the psyche of billions in the Sea of Souls while dancing away from Khaine inspired stories of fae and faeries. Gods were not as impressionable as the unconscious thoughts of mortals, but a serious blow between them would bring their essences in contact. In that moment, images and thoughts, memories and theories would be exchanged between them.

Therefore, a battle between gods could be thought of as a battle between ideals and ideas, symbolized and materialized through their powers and Truths; a violent form of divine debate.

If their Truths were too similar, the battle would become that of Khorne and Khaine who were both gods of war; two answers to the same question. Those two could clash with each other without fear of being infected with the other's Truth. However, that also meant they would never be able to understand or reconcile with the other. Eternal conflict was the only outcome to result from their meeting.

Isha and the Emperor were too different to reject each other like that. Although that left the option for both to learn from the other, they also ran the risk of ending up like Gork and Mork. Those gods were cunning and brutal, but the war-like nature of them and their species brought them into conflict too many times; ruining the both of them and leaving only two lunatics who could no longer tell who was who, becoming cunningly brutal, and brutally cunning.

Regardless, whatever the outcome, neither would leave entirely the same as they were before the battle.

'Perhaps its nature of negating the unnatural means it has never felt the touch of another god before.' Isha mused.

The Emperor was far too eager for conflict with every encounter they had. But, if that were true, it would be useful. The shock it would feel would buy her a few moments, if only to gloat at its shattered hubris.

Isha sang a single verse and formed the same Wraithbone spear she first used against the Emperor's sword, inspected it, then shook her head and dispersed it with a single note.

She may know how to fight, but she was not a god of war. Weapons were not her specialty, and although she used them against the creatures of Chaos, it was mostly because she loathed even touching the creatures, disgusted by the thought that even a sliver of their memories might slither its way into hers.

No weapons she could make, however, would be sufficient against the Emperor. Wraithbone itself was an unnatural material. It would weaken in the Emperor's presence no matter how hard she made it.

Isha looked down at her fist instead. This body was a physical construct made to house her essence. It would be barbaric, but it could work.

She already had methods to nullify the Emperor's sleeping spell, and as long as she could separate the Custodes from their master, she would not be rendered as powerless as she had been on that dead planet covered in Dark Pylons. Its chains could be delayed, and their physical abilities were nearly matched when they first met. Unfortunately, the Emperor's battle instincts were better than hers. Split second decisions would always favor the Master of Mankind, for it was a creature of strife while she was a being of balance. Still, she could see the first moves of the dance that could lead to one or both their destructions.

Isha looked down at the planet; at the ancient battlefield and final resting place for some of her most unfortunate children.

The battle between them could be avoided. There was another offer of servitude she could make to the Emperor, but its rejection would mean there would only be two paths left to her. It would also hurt her heart immensely if the offer was spurned, and possibly doom some of her children to She who Thirsts. They were buried here for a reason.

Isha reorganized what she knew of the Emperor as she entered the next room.

It was a god which was not a god.

It was a being of the immaterium that was made to protect against the Warp.

It had been brought down and changed two times for or by the creatures it was meant to protect.

Her song brought up rage and pain in its heart, but she was not sure what part of her song upset it.

Several possibilities to its Truth surfaced and sank in her mind.

If things finally did come to blows between them, she would at least like to know what she would be taking in from the Emperor, if only to ensure it could be encysted and sealed away from the rest of her.

Isha continued down the slave carrier, towards another one of her children.

The battle was almost over and several cruisers were falling down to the planet below. The Emperor was sure to call her soon, and she had questions of her own for it as well.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.
A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: If things were the other way around, this section would have nothing but space-battles in it. The title would also be referencing the two real-world battles I used for inspiration regarding the tactics. Since revealing that title would spoil the human's tactics, I'll put the half that only references this section "Between Midway and [Redacted]

Now, it's a pretty on the nose reference to both the Emperor's battle plans for the space battle, and Isha's own plans for how to deal with the Emperor.

Main Part: I've made efforts to describe the space-craft we have images of, so the Dark-Star and Eagle bombers are described how they appear in the video game Battlefleet Gothic Armada 2. You don't have 3D movement there, and holofields don't actually create mirages, but most of the imagery and weapon rules come from that game.

If you read chapter 9 and chapter 7 carefully, (and know what class of ships can Run-Silent) it should be relatively easy to get the gist of what the humans have done.

The reason the Battle of Midway was planned to be referenced was because one of the reasons the Japanese lost that battle was the inability to get their planes in the air due to constantly being harassed by the Americans. That only happened because the American planes attacked continuously. Why? Because they were so disorganized that the planes that were meant to attack all at once ended up reaching the Japanese at different times. If dumb luck ever played a part in the war, it was certainly this moment. This forced the Japanese to continuously avoid torpedoes and bombs so much that they couldn't refuel and rearm their plane during the Battle of Midway,

I'm not joking, the Japanese literally fishtailed their carriers to avoid torpedoes. All that white stuff are the waves the carrier is making as it avoids American dive bombers.

Anyways, the part of the battle that is inspired by the Battle of Midway is the part where the Emperor essentially baited all the strike-craft of the Aeldari by threatening them with a three way flank, while preventing them from escaping. This means that the Aeldari fleet has no scouting or defensive Fighters and Bombers.

Another part of the Battle of Midway referenced in this chapter is the "Thach Weave". It was a tactic that the Americans used to combat the superior piloting skills and combat specs of the Japanese Zeros. They did the same thing in the chapter; baiting Zeros to go after one of their planes, and then attacking that Zero from behind with two other planes that flew in parallel to the plane that was the bait.

I'm not a massive history buff, but I like watching the odd battle documentary from time to time so I wanted to have a space-combat battle that used some of the tactics/events from the Battle of Midway.

There are other events of the Battle of Midway that are sort of referenced, such as the existence of a hidden fleet, which is sort of what the American carriers did to the Japanese, but they're so tangential that I don't want to bother mentioning them here.

As for why the Aeldari are so focussed on getting to the Bucephelus, originally Isha being on the Bucephelus made the Aeldari target the Bucephelus, but once that momentum was going, it doesn't matter if Isha is onboard or not. They have to take out the Bucephelus to escape so even if they know she is on a different ship now, they have no choice but to attack.

In fact, the Emperor sent Isha knowing that disabling the slave carriers being used as shields, and then forming a second flank that indicated a third flank was going to appear would force the Aeldari to go all-in, and rush all at once. This would of course clutter the combat space, tire the Aeldari pilots out quicker, and allow him to launch his own fighters in an advantageous position against weakened enemies.

This is the standard of combat planning/void-combat I hope to maintain for the rest of the Chronicle. Smart tactics with super spaces sci-fi weapons.

Unfortunately, I can't make all the Space Marines have camo paint, so they'll be as visible as ever. However, I'll try to come up with some ground-battle tactics that are semi-realistic/have some basis in history.

 

[Nidhog153]

(Several minutes before the first shield failure of the Bucephelus)

Galowen watched the Mon-keigh laser weapons fire and miss once more as the Eclipse cruiser Moonstalker's gravitic drives pulled itself out of the way. The path of the beam of light had already been predicted by his foresight, even before the firing teams on the enemy ship had even entered the targeting solutions into their primitive cogitators.

'They shall not last long.' He thought to himself. The humans had been firing continuously for over an hour, and he knew from past raids that their plasma generators and capacitor banks should be running low. Even now some of their largest and oldest ships had already gone silent, merely drifting in the void.

The humans must have felt themselves clever with their sudden encirclement, courtesy of the psychic powers of the burning creature on the largest Mon-keigh ship. However, they had failed their execution. It was almost effortless to predict and avoid the lances firing in succession. They only needed to predict a series of points to dance around in sequence. If the Mon-keigh wanted to overwhelm them, they should have at least tried to coordinate their attacks to fill every possible point the Aeldari cruiser could have ran to at the same time in a single salvo of laser blasts from a minimum of two flanks.

Galowen allowed himself a small chuckle as he steered the ship out of another blue-white beam of photons before it even registered on the sensors; ship tilting and swerving like a falcon riding an updraft.

Of course, what the Mon-keigh should have done was not what they could do. Such a concentration of fire power would drain the human ships dry after several salvos, barely leaving enough energy to maneuver or raise their void shields to protect against any potential Aeldari counter attack. In fact, if they had their strike craft, the Aeldari could already be destroying several of the flanking ships. However, all of their fighters and bombers were already at the flagship, waiting for its shields to fall.

A smile crossed his face as one of the Pulsars from an Aeldari cruiser scarred the flagship's armor followed by several balls of plasma.

The positioning of the Mon-keigh ships betrayed the existence of a third flank, but even that did not bother Galowen. If the third flank hadn't appeared on their sensors by now when the two battlegroups on either side were nearing energy reserve depletion, it must be composed of smaller ships Running Silent. That meant that most of the ordinance carried by the ships' of the third flank would be the archaic macro cannons and batteries that fired unguided shells with unreliable warheads. Such munitions were easier to avoid than the laser weapons he dodged now, not even requiring foresight to weave into the deadly void-dance he and the other mariners lead the Moonstalker through under the shimmering holofields.

Even surrounded on three flanks, the Mon-keigh would need almost Aeldari levels of coordination to ensure all their munitions would hit every possible avenue of escape at the same time. However, at this range and with this much space between each ship in the Aeldari fleet, dodging the fire of all three Mon-keigh flanks was well within the abilities of any of the mariners aboard all of the Aeldari cruisers.

Suddenly, Galowen saw something in his foresight that made him look down, as if he could see through the Wraithbone floor of the ship itself; eyes widening in disbelief at the sheer idiocy the Mon-keigh would throw themselves into.

'Activate Runic Targeting Nodes! Deal with them as we would the green-skin!' He cried out through the psychic net.

However, the vision in his foresight refused to fade; even as the Starcannons' psychic guidance systems sent balls of plasma curving almost 270 degrees towards the targets that had just appeared on the ventral side of the Aeldari ships, even as the gravitic drives and solar sails moved to avoid the incoming attack, and even as the escort craft of the Aeldari fleet moved to intercept the enemy.

The true danger of humans is not their intelligence, for the Aeldari are far wiser.
Neither is it their cunning or brutality, for the descendants of the Krork are the epitome of both.

It is their sheer unpredictable, arrogant, and disobedient nature; for one moment they are dogmatic dogs to doctrine, but at the blink of an eye every veneer of civility, professionalism, and sophistication is dropped to reveal the almost feral animal that lies within them all.

—----------------------------------------

(Almost a half-hour before)
Captain Cedric of the Dauntless-class Light Cruiser Thunderous Valor watched the light from the lance fire of the Vengeance Grand Cruisers, Hades Battle Cruisers, and Lunar Cruisers of the 5th, 8th, 11th, and 12th Terran battlegroups flanking the Xenos ships crisscross in sequence above the hidden fleet he was part of; a rag-tag group of escorts and light cruisers assembled from the remains of raided worlds. All of them had been either rescued from the pillaged wreckage left by the Xenos, or arrested.

Captain Cedric and all his crew had entered into the service of the Emperor via the latter; for they were all deserters, cowards who had fled from their homeworld.

He still remembered the events of that day with crystal clarity.

After the flagship leading the planet's defense fleet fell to the aliens, he and several others abandoned the battlefield. What good would a few light cruisers and escorts do against ships that tore apart a battlecruiser in mere moments?

However, it may have been better to have died then and there than to have survived.

Somehow, they continued to receive Vox communications from the planet they had left behind. Calls for help came from the panicked remains of the defense militia on open channels. Civilians, barricaded in whatever strongholds remained, begged them to return. Then those cries turned into screams; mixed with the melodic alien laughter of the creatures that had chased them away.

It had taken several laspistol shots through the Vox instruments for the communications to stop.

Every night had been a nightmare from that moment on. The voices and sounds that came from the Vox, before their fear and rage forced them to destroy their own equipment, echoed in their dreams. The auditory stimulation recorded in their memories turned into vivid images as they slept; filling their slumber with a front row seat to a torture show starring their loved ones.

Cedric's family had been left behind on the planet, as well as all the families of the men and women onboard. He could not be sure, but he felt that he heard the voice of his wife and two children on the Vox. It was them that appeared every night, and he could do nothing but watch as they were violated in every way he could have possibly imagined.

It was the second week after they had abandoned their homeworld that they ran into the fleet from Terra. Cedric remembered the moment. He had been eyeing the laspistol in his lap, turning it over and over in his hands, when the auspex array lit up and a titanic vessel of unknown origin exited the Warp right next to their ships. They did not try to run, even as the boarding tubes of the unfamiliar vessels attached to their hulls. Death would be a release at this moment, and the many sleepless nights had taken a heavy toll on all of them.

The men from the titanic ship boarded, debriefed, and then arrested all of them. For three days, Cedric and his men sat in the brig of the Bucephelus, only interrupted by the occasional medical check-up. Then, they were dragged in chains for an audience with the Emperor.

"The 5th, 8th, 11th, and 12th battlegroups lance fire cannot last much longer." Lieutenant Commander Gideon called out, returning Cedric to the present. Gideon was the senior officer in charge of the auspex arrays, and it was his duty to inform the bridge of all events of note. "Current rate of fire projects capacitor bank depletion in 90 minutes. They're draining them faster than the plasma generators can replenish them."

"Are the Vengeance Grand Cruisers still firing?"

"Yes Sir."

"Then it is not yet time."

"As you will Sir"

Cedric returned to watching the lance fire above them. Each one was a guiding light, ensuring his ship, and all the others knew which way to go. Every ship that traveled below the plane of engagement traveled in complete silence. Besides not being able to use the Vox, that also meant any sensor sweep or scanner pulse was out of the question; for the electromagnetic energies used to scan for targets would betray their location. That meant they flew blind in space, for the distances involved in void combat meant the human eye was about as useful as the light sensing cell spots on a clam.

However, even at this great distance, the lance beams of the Terran battlegroups were bright enough to follow; contrasting against the blackness of space. All they had to do in order to identify the direction they had to travel was record the positions of the sequential lance beams. The intersection point between the beams from the two battlegroups on either flank of the Xenos provided them a general idea of where the Xenos ships were.

Cedric smiled, as he overlooked the bridge crew from the dais that held the holomap and his command throne. Soon, it would all be over. It was almost poetic that the ship class that would give the signal for them had the same name as what the Emperor had promised them. The thought sent his tired mind back into memory as they waited for their signal.

When Cedric met the Emperor, he was overwhelmed with shame and could feel the displeasure and disappointment radiating from the golden being before him.

However, although Cedric was sure the only reason they had been dredged up from the brig was to serve as an example for traitors and cowards, the Emperor did not have them executed.

"Rise Cedric." The Emperor's voice boomed, and Cedric realized that he had been prostrating himself; face and knees almost buried in the deep red carpet that lined the audience chamber of the Emperor.

"Your fear has caused the deaths of many, and now it seeks to kill you with your own hands."

Tears blurred Cedric's sight, as he raised his head.

"There is only one path for your salvation."

The Emperor took a single half-step forwards, and the harsh sound his armored foot made against the floor was that of a gavel in a courtroom.

"Return to your ship, Captain."

Soldiers marched from behind, and unshackled Cedric's wrists and ankles.

"I promise you neither your life nor your freedom. However..."

The Emperor spoke as Cedric rubbed his wrists, like a pauper begging for some small scrap of mercy.

"Serve me and you will have your vengeance."

At that moment, a searing flame burst into life in Cedric's heart. Despair, fear, and self-pity burned away like cobwebs before a torch. His tears dried as he rose to one knee, and bowed his head.

"What will you have me do, my Lord."

From that point forward, Cedric and the thousands of other cowards like him followed the Emperor; charging into the ranks of the very Xenos they first ran from at a single command. This was the only path left for them, and only in their death did duty end.

"Vengeance Grand Cruisers lance batteries have gone silent!" Gideon cried out, returning Cedric to the present.

"Sound the alarm." He ordered one of the bridge staff, before turning to another. "70 degrees dorsal turn. Use the gyros for as long as possible, but prepare the emergency thrusters. Vox officer, maintain radio silence until we're detected."

Men and women rushed to their seats at their terminals as flashing red lights and sirens began to blare through the ship. Cedric himself sat back in his throne and buckled himself in; shoulder straps and harness securing him to the well padded backrest.

"All hands, all hands. Brace for Impact. Brace for Impact. Secure all equipment and personnel, immediately. Repeat…" The automated recording continued to play as the ship began to turn towards the intersecting beams of light above them.

Slowly, the Thunderous Valor rose towards the Xenos ships, still flying with minimal power and invisible to almost all sensors. Then, the balls of plasma fired from within the alien holofields that had been flying over them suddenly turned, heading towards them like guided torpedoes.

"All ahead full!" Cedric ordered, and the 6 drive thrusters roared to life, accelerating the ship forwards as several hundred other light cruisers and escort class vessels did the same.

Cedric grunted as the G-forces from the acceleration that weren't blunted by the shock absorbing fields and support structures of the command deck shoved him into his seat.

"Break radio silence! Prepare the escorts to fly in formation!" Cedric shouted out from his throne, and the Vox officer only nodded as she struggled to reach the keys on her terminal; arms straining against the sudden acceleration that threatened to crush every bone in the crew's bodies. "Master Gunner! Open port and starboard macro cannon blast doors!"

Massive shutters opened on either side of the ship as the cannons beneath them moved forwards. Several smaller ships, only a third the length of the cruiser, formed up besides, above, and below them.

"Xenos plasma weaponry impact imminent!" Gideon called out.

Balls of plasma tens of meters in diameter descended upon them. The first few targeted the escorts, stripping away their shields in several shots before burning through the hull.

One of the escorts exploded as a ball of plasma swerved around the thick armor on the prow and burrowed into the base of the macro cannon turrets on the dorsal side of the ship. Ammunition silos detonated, tearing the Sword-class frigate in two from the inside out; front and back halves sent in opposite directions by the orange ball of molten metal and gas that came from breached generators and macro shell warheads.

"Adjust course!" Cedric ordered. "Point us directly at the enemy fire, and maintain the escorts' formation!"

They were almost within the Xenos ships' formations, blurry images of the alien vessels now visible even to the naked eye.

"Enemy escorts approaching!" Gideon called out.

Smaller dart-like Xenos craft approached rapidly; responding to the infiltration of their battle lines by the humans. Coordinated plasma fire and Pulsar blasts tore through another escort, with the plasma fire of the cruisers stripping the shields as a separate escort fired its Pulsar weapon at the exact moment the shields fell; piercing the enginarium room of the escort in a single strike, leaving it drifting in the void.

"Master Gunner, fire macro cannon batteries at will! Keep the enemy escort class vessels away from us!"

The command deck of the Thunderous Valor shook as both of its batteries opened fire. Salvos of shells flew in opposite directions with timed warheads, detonating before the Xenos escorts, forcing them to turn away or risk flying into the wall of explosions before them.

"Entering Xenos holofields!" Gideon cried out, and the entire holomap went haywire. The green image of the ship remained in place as the entire map spun wildly around it, unable to reconcile the fact that every sensor told the ship's cogitators it was currently flying through a solid object.

Cedric gripped the armrests of his seat as the view ports were obscured by blurred images, then the cloudy mass of blue and gray disappeared like morning mist as they exited the holofields and returned to the blackness of space.

"Status report on the escorts!" Cedric shouted.

"We're missing the Adlerauge!" Gideon replied, and Cedric's heart leapt in his breast.

"Vox officer!"

"We have their coordinates!" The woman replied. "Transmitting to Vengeance-class Grand Cruiser Executor's Wrath!"

Hundreds of kilometers away, the fully charged lance batteries of a ship over 6 km long turned to the coordinates of the Adlerauge, adjusted to spread several degrees around the craft, and fired. Dozens of beams of light went through the holofield, then the shimmering mirage disappeared as the torn form of the Xenos cruiser appeared, Adlerauge embedded deeply in its port side. Lance batteries had cut right through its solar sails, and pierced both it and the Adlerauge, destroying or disabling the holofield in the process. But, before the Executor's Wrath could fire again, the Adlerauge exploded. Like a wedge in a piece of firewood struck by a hammer, it split the Xenos ship in two as all its fuel and ammunition detonated; damaged from the lance blasts from their own allies.

Cedric watched all this but did not despair. This had been the plan all along.

Aeldari holofields, their nimble ships, and inhuman reaction times made them a difficult target to destroy. Given time they may have defeated them conventionally, but with every Aeldari ship hellbent on destroying the Bucephelus, time was not on the human's side.

Thus, they employed tactics from two ancient battles against their enemy.

The first was the battle of Midway, where the Japanese carriers depleted all their available fighters before being ambushed by the Americans. This was mimicked by baiting the Aeldari strike craft into attacking the Bucephelus. With all their strike craft gone, the Aeldari cruisers didn't have the sufficient patrols to identify the human's hidden fleet. Not to mention, their bombers would have made short work of the lightly armored and lower mass targets that every human light cruiser and escort class vessel was.

The second battle was Trafalgar. Like the British ship-of-the-line in ancient times, the humans' light cruisers and escorts penetrated deep within the Aeldari's formations. There; they charged to point blank range where even the Aeldari could no longer avoid their shots, cluttered the battlefield with their wreckage, and even dived head first into the enemy ships to reveal their position under the holofield for the flanking Terran battlegroups to fire at.

Any Aeldari who tried to escape from the charging light cruisers and escorts had only one assured avenue of escape; upwards. But that path was now being covered by streams of lance fire from the Hades Battlecruisers and Lunar Cruisers; no longer required to fire inefficiently on purpose to show the blind tertiary battlegroup where to go. Thus, with every attempt to go upwards met with salvos of coordinated lance fire that criss crossed to form a latticework of lasers in a makeshift net, the Aeldari were forced to dodge and weave in the vicious melee the humans engaged them in.

The previously silent Vengeance-class Grand Cruisers also now fired all their lance batteries at any human ship that collided with the Aeldari, for only they had the firepower to ensure a kill in a single salvo.

This was the trap of the humans; for now the Aeldari were surrounded, divided, and avoiding fire from every possible direction inside and outside their formations. An unpredictable mish-mash of ship collisions, close range macro cannon fire, and lance batteries overwhelmed their psychic foresight. Worst of all, the suicidal human escorts and vengeful light-cruisers flew straight at them in wide formations, forcing them to move away to avoid ramming; making their movements predictable, allowing a few to be downed by concentrated lance fire.

As Cedric's cruiser and escorts flew into the holofields of another Xenos cruiser, forcing it into the path of several lance beams as it attempted to avoid them and their macro cannon fire, the Thunderous Valor shook as something penetrated its void shields.

"We've taken macro cannon fire to the prow lance!" Gideon called out.

This melee was as dangerous to the humans as it was for the Aeldari. In this relative close range for space combat with unguided macro shells flying from every direction, friendly fire was frequent in occurrence.

"Scramble repair teams!" Cedric shouted back. "Turn the ship around! Dive back into their formations!"

Maneuvering thrusters burst into action, sending jets of burning promethium from the front port and rear starboard, turning the ship 180 degrees back into the fray. They would use the Xenos vessels as cover against the fire of their own allies.

Cedric grunted as the turning of the ship dug the harness into his neck.

There was a snap on the bridge and one of the terminal operators was flung out of their seat, safety harness torn from the G-force, and flung into one of the walls with a bone shattering crack. Thankfully, each function on the bridge was manned by three operators; physical redundancy to ensure sudden deaths did not reduce the ship's operations.

"Xenos escort closing behind us!" Gideon called out, and one dart-like ship appeared on the holomap, slipping through the still burning wreck left behind by the alien cruiser before zipping behind them like a bee. Plasma fire stripped the shields of one of their escorts, before a Pulsar beam pierced the engines of the ship with pinpoint precision; tearing it apart from the inside as it detonated the fuel reserves in the ship.

"Order our escorts to proceed to the next target!" Cedric ordered. "Bring our guns to bear on that Xenos!"

The nimbler escorts would have a far easier time closing with the Aeldari cruisers, and they were numerous enough to expend as tracking bullets; to embed themselves in the Wraithbone of the enemy ships to allow the Vengeance-class Grand Cruisers coordinates to target.

Maneuvering thrusters coupled with magnetic gyros in the stubby wings of the Thunderous Valor wrenched the ship sideways; superstructure of the ship groaning as it strained against inertia. However, even as the prow side macro cannon batteries fired, the Xenos escort had already shifted sideways; sidestepping the human's shells.

The entire ship shook as the Xenos Pulsar beam pierced the prow side stern of the ship, cutting a hole meters in diameter through the hull just above the engines.

"Hull breach on multiple decks!" One of the bridge crew cried over the screaming alarms that threatened to drown out his voice. "Engine core is still secure, but we've lost all power to the void shields!"

"Evasive maneuvers! Don't let them get another shot!"

Promethium flared from maneuvering thrusters across the ship as it rolled and turned in random directions, twisting the hole bored by the Xenos away from its line of fire. Then the starboard macro battery detonated from within, tearing out the side of the ship; neutering half of the vessel's remaining weapons.

"Status report!" Cedric shouted, spitting out blood from a bitten lip.

"Critical damage to the starboard macro cannon battery!" The secondary Master Gunner reported; primary operator lying in his harness, neck broken from the sudden change in direction the explosion had caused.

"Cause!"

"A shell came loose from the magazine! We cannot continue firing with these maneuvers!"

"No!" Cedric shouted back. "Continue evasive maneuvers, and ready our port-side weapons! We hold the line here and now! Keep that ship distracted for as long as possible!"

"Xenos escort incoming!" Gideon cried, and the entire ship shook again as the Pulsar struck the ship in the exact same spot, cutting deeper into its innards.

"Enginarium room breached! Emergency venting of main plasma drive in progress! Output dropping to 12%!"

Cedric gnashed his teeth in rage. His ship was rendered virtually immobile in space.

"Enemy escort approaching!" Gideon cried out.

"Then we take them with us!" Cedric spat, pounding his fist against the throne's armrest. "Open all fuel valves! Unlock all ammunition silos! Detonate as soon as the enemy gets in range!"

As the crew began to carry out his orders, the Vox officer raised a hand.

"Captain, we're receiving a hail from one of the Bucephelus's bomber squadrons! Sending to central holoprojector now!"

An image flickered into view above the center of the bridge, allowing the entire staff to see the masked face of the Squadron commander of the bombing fleet.

"Thunderous Valor." The pilot, face obscured with breathing apparatus and helmet visor, said in a monotone voice. "This is Squadron Commander Samuel Carter. Respond."

"This is Captain Cedric Mathius." Cedric responded, almost growling with bitterness.

"Captain Cedric, cease all operations and wait for recovery."

There was a crack as one of Cedric's molars splintered as he clenched his jaw.

"I have them!" He spat back at the holographic image that loomed above them.

"Your life is not yours to give, Captain." The Squadron Commander responded. "You serve the Emperor of Mankind. Obey."

The image disappeared, and Cedric roared in fury, breaking the bones in his hand as he slammed it against the command throne. There was a moment of silence on the bridge, with only the drip of blood from his hand and the splattered remains of some of the unfortunate crew whose safety harnesses had snapped.

"Disconnect main plasma drives and switch to secondary. Redistribute power to life support and begin macro cannon battery cooling procedures." He said bitterly, and the crew slowly obeyed him.

Once again, he had survived.

Once again, vengeance had been his.

But, even as he watched the bomber squadron rush past the view ports to swarm the fleeing Xenos escort; melta-bombs boring holes into the Wraithbone, burning the vile aliens inside before blowing up the entire craft, the fire that the Emperor lit in his chest burned hotter and hotter.

—----------------------------------------

The Emperor watched the remains of the Aeldari fleet crumble, opening a portal for Isha to return as he watched the last few ships push through the remains of the tertiary battlegroup, falling to the planet below as lance fire followed their path. Only a few ships remained, and even this number would be reduced as the free fall they were now trapped in was easy to follow with weapon fire.

More would burn up in the atmosphere. Even now one of the damaged cruisers disintegrated in the thick abrasive ash filled atmosphere; pockmarked hull creating excess friction in the clouds, letting off sparks of lightning as it broke into several fragments. Only one or two would reach the surface.

That still meant a potential few hundred Aeldari survivors. Aliens who were hardier than they looked, and could sing matter into existence. Given enough time, they could rebuild their ships; possibly even create a functional colony for them to breed and increase their number. Not to mention whatever Isha had hidden on this planet.

Their mother did not trust the Emperor, and would have surely taken some precaution to protect her children. There was a high probability there was either some weapon or means of escape hidden on the planet below. She had chosen it for them after all.

The portal shimmered as Isha walked through it; eyes swiveling to the Emperor before moving to follow the trajectory of the Aeldari ships still falling towards the planet.

The Emperor's eyes narrowed as he watched the creature display emotions of sadness.

It was disgusting, hypocritical, and far far too late.

'You have no right.' The Emperor thought to itself. 'Your tears are too little and too late. Now watch the ending of a race that lived without sacrificing anything.'

The Emperor remembered visiting the Aeldari Pantheon, tens of thousands of years ago; traveling through the increasingly turbulent immaterium to find answers or assistance for its mission. The shining gates and walls were made of white Wraithbone inlaid with red black crystals, with artistic sets of runes engraved upon almost every surface. The massive structure seemed never ending; stretching off to either side in the Sea of Souls as far as warp sight could perceive, and hiding everything beyond the border through its sheer height.

Hundreds of other beings made of thoughts and dreams waited near the gates; sitting, standing, squatting, alone or in groups. They were either huddled here for protection, as the more violent neverborn were driven away by the silver sentinels that watched the gates at all times, or in the hope for an audience with the titanic alien gods beyond.

As the being that would eventually become the Emperor drank in the sight, catching its figurative breath after the long wearisome journey, it felt the hairs rise on the back of its neck as the feeling of being watched crawled over its skin.

Upon the spiked battlements of the white walls, a feminine figure cast her eyes over the view beyond her home.

The other creatures here could also feel her gaze, for they quivered and quailed as the invisible touch of her eyes crawled over them.

The Emperor's own eyes looked up to the Aeldari goddess, and although she was so far away only her long silvery hair and soft silhouette allowed determination of her gender, they locked eyes for a brief moment.

In that moment everything was laid bare, and the Emperor felt almost naked before the goddess; with every scar and shame inspected by the alien creature high above.

Then the moment was gone, and the goddess retreated from view beyond the walls.

As the Emperor collapsed to its knees, panting from the experience, a cruel realization of the futility of coming here crystalized in its mind.

It was not that these aliens could not do anything to help.

They would not do anything to help.

For in that momentary look that Aeldari goddess gave, she had decided no further attention was necessary. Every pain, every sacrifice, every life that composed the would-be Emperor and all the others before the silver gates was only worth a single glance of her divine eyes.

Boiling anger replaced exhaustion and chilling fear as the Emperor understood this, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow looking up once again only to glower at the empty battlements.

With all their power, all their experience, all their knowledge those creatures would do nothing. Even as beings far smaller and weaker than them spent every moment just trying to barely survive.

That was the first contact between part of the subconscious of humanity and the Aeldari Pantheon, but it was not the last.

"Do you still want to convince them?" The Emperor asked, hiding the irritation that grew at the sight and sound of the alien.

"Even if I know the outcome, I must try." She replied with a wan smile. "Are you so impatient to end your work here?"

"We will deploy troops to the ground regardless." The Master of Mankind replied. "Orbital or even aerial bombardment always leaves the possibility for survivors. Whether you join them or not is your decision."

"I will join your troops to the planet, if it is only to say my final farewell to my children." There was a moment's pause before Isha looked up into the brown eyes of the Emperor. "I have other questions for you."

The Emperor stared back at her coldly; neither refusing her request nor affirming to receive it.

"The battle is mostly over, and it will take time to prepare your troops." Isha took a step forward. "I wish to know how my children will survive under your rule."

"And what will you do with that knowledge? Do you think yourself to be in a position to bargain?"

Isha's voice was growing more aggravating to listen to, regardless of the content. The song of life that threatened to distract and create doubt before the Emperor seemed to come from every syllable uttered by her.

"If you seek to threaten me with your spell, then it is a pointless bluff." Isha retorted. "Seeing your people's weapons, I can see that stolen knowledge only serves you so much. There is more I can teach you willingly than being forced to."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed.

What she said was true. The knowledge of the Void Dragon was alien to all things, and it was only through blind obedience and slavery that the Necron were able to follow its designs. Although the Emperor could use the knowledge to circumvent the more archaic Necron weapons and defenses, humanity's attempts at imitation through las technology and their more exotic blades was a far cry from the originals.

Isha was not as alien as the Star God, but her knowledge would still be difficult to pry from her mind. Her fabled knowledge of gene sculpting and flesh work would be useful, especially after Isha's incident with the Xenobiologis had rendered them unusable.

"Then what do you offer for my answer?"

It was unlikely Isha would part with such valuable knowledge so soon, but it would be interesting to see what she saw to be an equivalent exchange for her question.

"Part of my children's birthright lies buried on this planet. Protection from your followers or any other who would harm them." Isha gestured to the planet. "A platoon of Psychomatons from the War in Heaven to defend them should the need ever arise. I give their service to you."

The Emperor snorted at this. A one time offer of weapons that would be slaved to her, and the revelation of her deceit. Although she had only asked for knowledge of the Emperor's plans, it was an arrogant offer regardless.

Then again, if she had offered what the Emperor truly wanted, she would have been a fool; and fools were sometimes more dangerous than the most intelligent adversary.

Regardless, there was no need to allow her an easy bargain.

"You think this revelation of your trickery buys you any favor from me?" The Emperor answered, brown eyes glaring down into Isha's silvery ones.

"Neither of us trusts the other. Would you have done any different?"

The two stared at each other; wild animals observing the other for an opening, muscles tensed but fangs still hidden beneath lips.

—----------------------------------------

Isha watched the Emperor warily. Wisp of dark green and blackish brown flickered in its brown eye; parts of the information Isha exchanged with it earlier stoked the original flame that burned within its gaze, fuelling a preexisting rational rage with irrational disgust and loathing.

She knew those feelings well, for they were the same colors she saw in herself before she went to implore Asuryan to activate the edict.

"Forgive me." She said, breaking eye contact by bowing her head. "This line of debate is meaningless." Her voice was steady, but quiet. "Knowing that you yourself would make the same choice only means that you are aware of the cost and the risk of such a decision. That gives more reason to hate than to forgive. However…"

Gesture of acquiescence made, Isha turned back to the Emperor.

"Know this, Protector of Mankind. My actions are for my children's lives, not their empire."

There was another pause between them as the Emperor continued to glower at Isha.

"You children will live, for the moment." The Emperor finally replied. "I have other matters to attend to, and it is better to leave Chaos preoccupied with its latest prize."

"You intend to use them as a shield against Chaos?" Isha asked calmly.

That was a predictable outcome. Humanity as it stood was still fractured, and the Aeldari that survived outside the Webway had many years to prepare for the birth of the Warp and She who Thirsts. They were the best equipped to push back the Ruinous Powers that now threatened to expand beyond the permanent Warp tear.

Racial pride also ran deep within the survivors. Even without the feeding habits of the children here, meeting humanity as it was now would not end well for either species. Especially if they learned of how their divine mother had been treated by those they would certainly call Mon-keigh.

For now, separation was the best for the safety of both.

"The current Warp is a product of your species." The Emperor growled, misinterpreting her statement as an accusation. "Why should I or my people intervene on the behalf of those who caused their own destruction."

The statement irked Isha, for although partially true, it belittled what they went through and the future Lilieath had sought to avoid.

"Be that as it may, do not deny that my children's battle serves all." She replied almost instinctively. "Do not forget what you and every other creature in this galaxy owes them."

"I owe neither them nor you anything." The Emperor took another step forward, looming over Isha; ignoring the double meaning of the War in Heaven and the battle against Chaos her children had fought and would fight. "I will take what will not be given, steal what will not be gifted, and destroy anything that stands in my path." Hot ash filled bonfire air and the metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils. "Those are the laws that all will survive under in my domain."

—----------------------------------------

The Emperor looked down at the smaller Aeldari goddess. Her current form was only the height of the average Aeldari, which meant her head only came up to the midriff of the golden terminator armor that adorned the Emperor's body, so her neck was forced to crane backwards almost painfully to return the Master of Mankind's gaze.

The chlorinated stench of ozone and the earthy scent of mud flowed from her as the air around them began to whirl in a spiral. The smell was like the smoldering remains of a lightning strike in the middle of a stormy night over a brackish puddle.

Her lips parted, curled angrily to retort, but stopped themselves. Instad, her parted lips relaxed, turning whatever curse or argument she was about to utter into a ragged breath; intaking and exhaling air, to cool and vent the heat of the anger she no doubt felt.

"You will not pursue them like the ones here?" She spoke quietly and the atmosphere of the bridge stilled; air returning to the various vents that circulated oxygen throughout the ship.

"As long as they remain out of reach and out of the way, they will remain unharmed by my hand."

Isha gave a dry chuckle at that. Humanity would expand across the stars, and would eventually reach the Aeldari. When that happened, there was no question as to how the meeting would take place.

"I suppose I should be thankful you do not hold them hostage against me." She replied dryly.

"That can be arranged, if you forget your place."

Isha's brow furrowed at that, and she lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"Where does your hatred towards me come from?"

Hate?

The question paused the Emperor for a moment. The Aeldari were arrogant and dangerous. They were responsible for the birth of an atrocity beyond understanding or imagination. However, these feelings of aggravation and irritation that bubbled in the Emperor's chest were more than that.

Isha was right. The Emperor hated her, and the feeling had been growing ever since the battle with the Aeldari began. A battle that could have been avoided.

The answer to Isha's question and the ones that would no doubt follow solidified in the Emperor's mind.

"From the knowledge of what you are, and what you have done."

"And what am I in your eyes? What sin have I committed against you?"

"Do not feign ignorance. I know the legends of your people, and how everything came to pass."

Isha snorted derisively at that.

"You think some incestuous love my daughter felt for Kurnous caused all of this?"

The Emperor's teeth grated together. That was not the point. That was not Isha's fault or the cause of all that happened.

Something snapped in the Emperor.

"If only you and your daughter kept your damnable mouths shut, none of this would have happened!"

There was a silence after the Emperor's outburst as Isha's eyes widened with shock. Only the quiet beep of the holomap and electronic buzzing of lights and instrument panels could be heard.

Internally, the Emperor cursed and readied the spells required to summon the sword and chains necessary for battle. This was not the time nor place to fight Isha. However, contrary to expectation, Isha did not lash out or retort.

Instead, a great weariness radiated from her as she broke eye contact and crossed her arms.

"So, you blame me for stopping Khaine as much as you blame Lilieath for spurring him on." She said quietly.

"Am I wrong?" The Emperor spoke slowly, still prepared to draw sword and chains. "Khaine's slaughter of the Aeldari would have reduced their number and their power to a fraction of what it was."

Isha did not reply, instead her fingers squeezed her arms leaving red marks on her upper arms.

"The fourth Ruinous Power is only as great as your species made it. If you had kept quiet and let the necessary sacrifice take place, neither of us would be here."

That was the sin that the Emperor saw Isha guilty of. Whether it was her weakness or love for her children, she stopped Khaine's slaughter of the Aeldari which led to the eventual birth of Slaanesh. Worst of all, the method she used to stop Khaine stopped all interaction between the mortal Aeldari and their gods. If Isha had stayed silent, Chaos would have been far less powerful, and Slaanesh would never have been born. The Aeldari may have been a far smaller power, but they would not be doomed to eternal torment.

All of this suffering both of the Aeldari and every other race which fell to the Ruinous Powers was in part caused by Isha's cry to Asuryan. The Aeldari gods knew this, and yet they did nothing to stop it.

That could not be forgiven or forgotten.

"There is a human parable of a train and tracks with humans tied to it." Isha suddenly spoke. "You wish to argue in utilitarian terms, then let me explain my actions with ones you are most used to."

The Emperor snorted. It was a simple thought experiment. A train traveled along a track that split into two paths. The track the train would pass over normally had 4 people tied to it. The other track, which the train could be diverted down by a person pulling a lever, only had 1 person tied to it.

Let 4 die, or change the direction of the train to let only 1 die. The answer was simple.

"It is always better to sacrifice the few to save the many."

Isha gave a sad, tired smile at the Emperor's answer, as if listening to a child giving the right answer to a different question.

"If the one changing the direction of the train is unaffected by their actions, then you are correct. But, what happens if the act of sacrificing one to save many is counted as murder? Will the person change the direction of the train if they are guilty of the death they cause?"

Was that Isha's reason for calling back Khaine? The Emperor's lips curled.

"It is a crime to stand back and do nothing." The words were spat out with venom, but Isha's eyes flashed at the words and not the tone of the statement. Her eyes bored into the angry gaze of the Emperor with a purity of purpose that was unexpected for one he thought had given up on the hard choices before her.

"Do not attempt to equate sin with sin." Her voice was quiet, but there was a seriousness in her tone that made the Emperor stay silent. "If all are guilty, there is no difference between the outcomes besides the number of dead. In that world, every sinner might as well be innocent so long as the ends justify the means, with the reverse being the same."

"You speak of sin and guilt…" The Emperor replied slowly. "But what does a goddess of a pantheon who did nothing know of justice?"

"I was judge, jury, and executioner of entire worlds before you were born." The chlorine stench of ozone returned as Isha spoke, followed by the smell of hot dusty air and sulfur. "Lilieath and I knew what the result of our actions would be, even if we hated ourselves and each other for making them."

"And this is the best you can do?" The Emperor stepped back, turning to the side to show the view visible from the bridge of the Bucephelus; a view filled with burning Aeldari ships and broken human vessels.

Isha walked past the Emperor towards the empty space and let her arms fall to her sides.

"I asked Asuryan to stop the slaughter." She spoke, tone vacant as she stared out into space.

"I bent the rules of the very edict I called into place with Kurnous and Vaul. I paid for my disobedience at my father's hand. I waged war against my own family as the mortal empire of my own children descended into interstellar strife with itself. I suffered their disobedience and ungratefulness as they forgot all of us. I watched them descend into depravity even as I held back the growing powers of Chaos."

Her head was bowed, as if she was fighting back tears.

"I did my best, paid the price for my actions and many others besides me."

Her voice was almost a whisper, then she turned back towards the Emperor. Eyes clear and wide open as she raised both of her clean white hands palms upwards before her.

"This is the reward for all my efforts."

There was a long pause between them as the Emperor tried to untangle Isha's words.

This death and destruction, the eternal perversion or reality, the birth of a new Ruinous Power were the best the higher beings he had seen so long ago could manage?

"Then the power of gods truly has no meaning."

If this was the best they could manage, then whatever powers they seemed to possess meant nothing.

"Say what you must to soothe yourself." Isha walked right up to the Emperor, even if the height difference forced her to look almost straight up to meet its gaze. "I look forward to seeing where your path finally takes you."

Several moments passed as the two glared at one another, neither accepting the other's conclusion.

The Emperor would always pull the lever, no matter how much blood spattered it as the train ran over the lesser number of people.

Isha had not pulled the lever when the train came, and from her inaction the Aeldari died and the Warp was born. Yet, she stated that was the right decision for that moment.

"Send me to the other ships that hold your people prisoner." Isha finally broke the silence between them, looking away at the same time. "I would prefer to spend my time there than in conversation with you."

"Then go." The Emperor raised a hand, and a small hand held communication device unlocked itself from one of the terminals and floated towards Isha. "Contact me via the open channel registered on that device when you wish to move to the next ship." The Emperor said as it turned away from Isha, glad to get rid of her from its sight. "Surely the sophisticated ships of your people can replicate the signals necessary."

Isha left through the new portal without a reply, leaving the Emperor behind.

A heavy sigh came from the Emperor, stress and annoyance leaving with the air. Calls would have to be made to the troop transports on the Bucephelus and other transport vessels. The Aeldari survivors would be most likely holed up in the remains of their ships, and it would be pointless to assault them with conventional forces. The God-Machines would be necessary to cut them out. Not to mention the news of the Psychomatons on the planet.

The Emperor had honored their agreement, and told Isha what she wished to know. Now, it was time to see whether she would uphold her end of the bargain.

—----------------------------------------

Lilieath's consciousness awoke blind, deaf, and still unable to speak. She was unsure of what was around her or what awaited her next.

She who Thirsts had endless creativity.

At times the torture was brutally simple, the defilement almost base like the lusts of simple criminals and barbarians who killed and raped to satisfy their overpowering urges.

Other times they were more intricate, with acts and scenes like a theater play in order to give a poetic beauty to the pain and pleasure upon the stage.

Sometimes it was almost scientific, with physical bodies prepared for her essence to be housed in so chemicals and sensory stimulation could be simulated in order for her to experience mortal sensations in an almost experimental fashion.

On the rare occasion, she was simply given to the many hands, claws, and tentacles of the Keepers of Secrets as a temporary reward for their service. She was the goddess whose voice first called Slaanesh according to Aeldari legend, and the daemons of the god or goddess of excess worshiped her in the twisted way only they could imagine.

In these short quiet moments while She who Thirsts was either distracted or busy preparing some new diabolical sensation, Lilieath used what remained of her Truth to return to the past in dreams, providing some small solace for her sanity; even though Slaanesh would never let her go insane.

This time, her dreams were not as pleasant as she would have wanted, for they took her back to the time her mother found out what she had told Khaine.

The sky had grown dark and stormy as lightning sparked between black clouds and the winds howled outside Morai Heg's room where Lilieath sat on her grandmother's shoulder.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Isha stormed inside, teeth bared and brow furrowed.

"LILIEATH!" The ground shook as her mother called her name, and a gigantic hand reached for her upon her grandmother's shoulder. "What have you done!"

Just as Isha's hand was about to close around Lilieath's entire body, Morai Heg's remaining hand closed around her wrist.

"She did what she had to, daughter." The old crone spoke quietly as thunder rumbled outside.

"It was not her decision to make!" Isha shouted angrily. "They are my children! That is my duty, my burden to bear, my Truth! NOT HERS!"

Lightning struck just outside, sending shards of Wraithbone flying; only to be seized by the winds and dragged upwards into the black sky. All three goddesses did not move; three divine generations all with the best intentions at heart yet completely different conclusions.

"Then you know what you have to do in order to go back to that path."

Thunder echoed as another lightning bolt crashed down outside as Isha's lips curled, baring her teeth at her mother and daughter. Then she yanked her arm from Morai Heg's hand, and stormed back out the room before hurricane winds lifted her skywards towards the palace of Asuryan.

Moraig Heg sighed as Lilieath watched Isha enter the palace as drops of rain began to fall from the sky.

There was a flash, and a pillar of silver flames shot up from the palace, penetrating the clouds. Then, a second orange pillar of fire descended from the sky, slamming into the courtyard just outside the palace. A few seconds later, Khaine emerged from the flames, sword still bloody from the planets burnt to cinders before Isha's cry to Asuryan to activate the edict brought him back.

The flaming head of Khaine turned towards the entrance of the palace as Isha stormed out of it. Father and daughter glared at each other for a moment, Isha's fists balling into fists as she watched the blood drip off of Khaine's blade.

There was a banshee cry, and the entire Pantheon shook as father and daughter tore at each other's throats; rocking the very foundations of the Pantheon as their titanic forms clashed. Winds roared and lightning flashed, sending thunderous booms to echo over the Wraithbone city that creaked and groaned as the very ground heaved with Isha's rage.

Moments later, silver chains wrapped around both, dragging them away from each other as Asuryan stepped from his palace.

"The edict has been activated as decreed." The Phoenix King said, tone quiet and unemotional. "From this point forth, all contact with the materium has been forbidden."

Isha sank to her knees, chains clinking as the rain grew heavier, soaking through her clothing and sticking it to her skin.

Khaine remained standing, raindrops hissing as they hit his flaming form. His burning eyes glared at Isha's bowed head.

"Are they worth everything that can and will be lost, daughter?" Khaine finally said.

"They are my children." Isha whispered. "They are my duty, my responsibility."

"Then words are useless." Khaine tried to take a step forward, but the chains only groaned and did not give.

"The Goddess of Life has acted accordingly." Asuryan spoke. "You do not have the right to take what is not yours."

"Do you not see what is to come, brother?" Khaine asked, turning to Asuryan.

"I have seen it all, but it is not my choice to make." Asuryan turned towards Khaine, releasing Isha from her chains as he passed her. "I am the Phoenix King of this pantheon. The matter of mortals is to be left to their decision."

"It is also hers." Khaine pointed an accusatory finger at Isha, still kneeling in the rain.

"And she has decided to invoke the edict." Asuryan replied, matter of factly.

"Then make her choose otherwise!" Khaine roared, orange flames flaring up even as the chains stopped him from moving.

Asuryan shook his head, then lifted a hand summoning a series of runes that laid out the law of the land.

"As long as the edict remains unbroken, I cannot allow any harm to come between any of us."

The chains binding Khaine disappeared, but his feet refused to move towards Isha.

"Is it love for them that makes you stand in my way?" Khaine asked Isha quietly, flames receding to reveal a well tanned muscular figure. "Or is it fear for what you will become?"

There was no reply from Isha who remained kneeling in the rain, eyes wide as she searched for some way through what was to come.

Khaine snorted. It was a pointless effort. If Isha's daughter saw this as the only way forward, then this was the only way. All that was left was to act.

If Isha could not do it safely, he would. He could slaughter the Aeldari with no remorse. He had done so with all those who had refused to fight during the War in Heaven. There were no enemies that could threaten them now, but if the Aeldari themselves threatened them, then they impeded their gods just as much as the cowards of the ancient past did so. Thus, there was no internal conflict within Khaine's Truth.

Isha was a far more complicated creature. One he was both proud of and annoyed by.

"I do not understand your or her idea of balance." Khaine muttered, turning his back on Asuryan.

"I am the fulcrum that takes neither side." Asuryan said, rubbing a finger besides the white and black rune that was ascribed to him. "She is the scale that swings to and fro."

Khaine sighed, then shrugged. "All I see are enemies and allies." Then the God of War walked away from the courtyard, leaving Asuryan to deal with Isha and Kurnous who had just arrived.

'Mother...' Lilieath thought to herself, returning from the sad dream to the eternal nightmare that was her reality.

She could feel She who Thirsts approaching. The smell of musk, sweat, and sexual fluids filled the air; informing her of the current mood the creature was in and what form of excess it wished to indulge.

At the very least, her mother was free. So long as Isha walked with the Aeldari, there was hope.

For when the Goddess of Life answered the call of the Aeldari during the War in Heaven, victory was always assured.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: The original title was "Between Midway and Trafalgar", with the section containing Isha and the Emperor's discussion being called "Gods and Guilt." At one point, this section was called "For the Emperor" to refer to Isha's answer and Cedric's sacrifice. However, since the part with the Emperor and Isha became much longer than the space battle, the title changed as well.

Main Part: This battle with Cedric and co. is there just to depict the brutal nature of void combat. I wanted a brutal battle which has some logical sense. I wish I could say that the entire battle was a carfully constructed scene with logical sense, but it mostly came from wanting a logical reason of having an imperial ship ramming an Aeldari ship, only for both to be blown up by a different human ship.

After I had that image in my head, the rest of the battle sort of formed around that to justify how that would happen.

Cedric being a coward who came into the Emperor's service was a late development. There was also a much more grissly scene involving the Aeldari torturing one of the crew member's family, but we just finished humanising them one or two chapters ago. It would be tonally off putting to go back to seeing them as cruel monsters, even though that it is the lived experience of the humans. I also didn't want to have to go through community review again, so I self censored myself.

The debate between Isha and the Emperor started from two parts. The thought experiment of the train, and the line "If only you and your daughter kept your damnable mouths shut, none of this would have happened!". For some reason, when I was thinking of what these two characters were saying to each other, I felt the Emperor would say that to Isha, but Isha would not lose her temper at the accusation.
Anyways, I put a lot of mention of ozone here for a reason. I think most people see Isha as a literal Goddess of Life. i.e. she causes plants to spring up from the ground and wills animals into existence.

That is part of her, but as the forces of nature destroyed the daemons in the Prologue, my portrayal of Isha is less fantastical and more scientific.

She can cause plants to sprout up, and create living beings from nothing. However, that is not her primary purpose, nor is it the most efficient method of bringing life into existence.

All the Aeldari gods are weapons of war to some degree.

Also, the goddess on the battlements of the Aeldari Pantheon's walls who gave the Emperor the shivers is not Isha. It's Hekarti, who's mentioned in the prologue to have watchful eyes.

If there was some easy to miss symbolism, it would probably be the "clean" hands Isha told the Emperor that was her reward. As the prologue said, it would have been Isha who killed the Aeldari as they fell to depravity. Isha's hands in this route are figuratively clean, in that she was not forced to endlessly kill her children.

 

[Nidhog153]

Aaaaand that's it for now.
Might add a chapter daily until my stock of chapters is depleted.
It should be pretty obvious that I'm copying and pasting my story from a different source, so the posts will slow down once we catch up to the story on the other sites.
If you can't wait, googling the thread title should get you linked to FF.net, AO3, SB, and SV.
Drop me a review on FF, or comment on AO3 if you're feeling charitable!

 

[meloa789]

It is good to see this here.

 

[Nidhog153]

In the first days of the Aeldari, Asuryan granted Eldanesh and his followers the gift of life. He breathed into their bodies all that they were to become. Yet there was no other thing upon the world. All was barren and not a leaf nor fish nor bird nor animal grew or swam or flew or walked beside them. Eldanesh was forlorn at the infertility of his home, and its emptiness made in him a greater emptiness. Seeing his distress, Isha was overcome with a grief of her own. Isha shed a tear for the Aeldari and let it drop upon the world. Where it fell, there came new life. From her sorrow came joy, for the world of the Aeldari was filled with wondrous things and Eldanesh's emptiness was no more, and he gave thanks to Isha for her love.

-Ancient Aeldari legend on the genesis of their race

—----------------------------------------

Isha exited the portal, returning to the dark corridors of one of her children's ships. The conversation with the Emperor had dragged up deep memories back to the time after the War in Heaven, before the edict.

—----------------------------------------

Truly free and unopposed for the first time in eons, she and her children had set out to undo some of the damage that the War in Heaven had left. The galaxy was theirs, but horribly damaged. Entire sections were dark and lifeless; stars drained and planets killed, cores immobile and the atmosphere blown away by radioactive solarwinds. As the only major power left sane and standing, her children proclaimed it their duty to rebuild what they and others had destroyed.

It was a political as well as a humanitarian effort, for the Aeldari could predict their own population growth without enemies to thin their ranks. Expansion was the only method they could realistically come up with in order to ensure a common goal unified their ever growing populace; so the same internal strife that destroyed the Necrontyr did not consume them as well.

Thus, they set forth on their warships, troop carriers, and Talismans of Vaul in order to restore and rebuild with the weapons of war that they had used to destroy.

Isha watched them with pride from atop her arboreal throne as another world's biosphere joined her domain as the gravity tethers from her children's ships pulled another planet away from a red dwarf's orbit. Meanwhile, 3 Talismans of Vaul took position above the dying star, before firing their infinity cannons at an equidistant point between them, creating a beam of energy that pumped immaterial energies into the star's core; reinvigorating it from red dwarf to yellow.

Prayer came from those aboard the ships, asking for guidance and reaffirmation of the effect the newly reinvigorated star would have upon the gravitational fields of nearby and distant systems.

Isha simulated the effect her children's actions had within the Sea of Souls, its timeless nature allowing her to predict several possibilities at the same time, and reaffirmed their calculations. Her answer to their prayers was the warm feeling of praise through the psychic net and she felt them rejoice and relax at the answer their goddess and mother gave them.

Millions of others asked her similar questions. What the correct orbit of a planet was, how much power to inject into a star, the number of asteroid impacts necessary to amplify the mass of a moon or planet so it could keep the necessary gasses around it to form an atmosphere that would support life.

The mathematical calculations necessary were already taught to them by Kurnous, but it was Isha they asked for confirmation, for her children's foresight could not predict the interconnected fates of entire astronomical starsystems; especially when the margin of error to allow life was so slim.

A desperate plea came from one of the far corners of the galaxy. A small patrol of her children had run into one of the sleeper cells of the Necron, and although their weapons held them at bay, they were far from any Webway gate and the tomb world's pylons disrupted their immaterial drives enough that they could not remove themselves from the system before scores of battleships and cruisers were unleashed from the surface.

Isha frowned. It was not her time to come in the Aeldari warsong, but their recent dependence on her had made her the first they cried out to. She cast a look in the direction of the other gods; Khaine and Asuryan especially.

Neither seemed to be paying much attention to the situation. Asuryan's role meant that he himself was more distant to the matters of mortals, however, he was not eyeing her with any suspicion; in effect giving tacit approval for Isha's planned disregard for the usual order of things.

Khaine had been quiet as of late. He had been particularly bored of this long period of peace and reconstruction. Calls for his Avatars or his spear had been few, and now it was mostly the Psychomatons that sang his song. He did not seem to be aware of the situation at all or was ignoring it on purpose; possibly spurning those who called for the Goddess of Life first rather than the God of War. He had been uncharacteristically broody recently.

Isha turned back to her domain and the cries of her children. The dead Necron tomb world satisfied the requirements necessary for her intervention, although other means were supposed to be attempted first before she was summoned in earnest.

'They deserve some respite.' Isha thought and sent a request to Cegorach to assist the patrol group.

The colossal maw of the cosmic serpent that was the Laughing God's steed and friend opened, and the black void of space split in two, revealing a swirling vortex of multicolored clouds. The vortex swelled, swallowing up all the ships of the Aeldari in a single gulp, taking them back to the deep blue of the Webway.

Now, with none of her mortal children present, Isha was allowed to dispense her miracle.

A crystalline tear formed above her hand, completely black instead of the usual deep burgundy drops she normally shed, for this time it was mostly made of the reserves of her power rather than with the cries of her children. Psychic energies and divine knowledge entered the psychoactive matrix, programming and powering it with all that was necessary to recreate her legend.

Isha raised her hand above her head, crystal floating above her palm, then cast it down; throwing the tear through the immaterium. A rift opened up in the veil between dreams and reality, and the black crystal flew like an obsidian comet before impacting the dead planet with meteoric force; penetrating the crust and reaching the mantle.

The Goddess of Life's miracle activated, and the dead world was reborn.

Isha turned away from the planet. It would not be ready for another decade or so, and there were other prayers and pleas that required more attention.

As Isha simultaneously answered the various questions and prayers of her children, an entire section of her domain went dark; removed from her influence.

'What happened?' Isha though, eyes wide. Multiple scenarios flitted through her mind as she began to prepare the necessary countermeasures and protocols as well as sending emergency requests for assistance to set the other gods to standby mode.

'A reawakening of one of the Star Gods? Some unforeseen accident? Some buried spore of Enslavers or other Warp Plague? An extragalactic invader?'

Red runes appeared before her as she accessed the last memories of her children before contact was lost, and her eyes widened with horror as the burning image of her father materialized on hundreds of the most populated worlds, opening his mouth to utter a deafening tone, overwhelming her children and their tools with bloodlust and rage.

"Father, what are you doing?!" Isha cried, attempting to contact the Avatars directly for the place her father's form occupied in the pantheon was empty; his entirety now in the materium and spreading hatred and anger throughout the psychic net of the Aeldari.

"I do my duty." The answer was simple, yet the tone was calm. Her father did this deliberately.

"The war is over, there is no conflict here!" Isha shouted. "You have not been called! Remove yourself from my children, immediately!" This action would have dire consequences for Khaine and her children. Even now, the perception of Khaine changed, and the changes would become permanent and self-sustaining the longer he was in contact in such an aberrant fashion with her children. "Father! Father?! Answer me!" Isha cried as she watched several of the Avatars raise their spears and swords above their heads. "Why do you do this?" She asked, voice trembling

"Ask your daughter."

The Avatar's pointed their weapons at the very planets they stood on and drove their blades and spear tips through the crust. Isha's throne shook as entire sections of her domain crumbled; centuries worth of work incinerated in an instant. A ragged gasp escaped her lips as she watched deserts, forests, oceans, and all other types of biomes possible burn and break; their immaterial forms associated to her domain turning to dust leaving gaping holes of nothing in their place.

Her psychic embrace reached out to the children on those worlds, trying to collect their souls. Instead of the pained spirits she expected to find, only the ashes of regret, fear, and confusion remained. Khaine had taken almost everything they were, are, and would be leaving behind only the pain, sorrow, and anything else that might stay his wrath.

Isha hurriedly collected the ashes, absorbing them into herself with her love before they could pollute the Sea of Souls. Although calm now, the Warp Plagues had been started by emotions such as these, and Khaine's wasteful consumption of her children threatened the new stability of the immaterium.

The situation in the materium was even more dire. Khaine's influence rallied the Aeldari for war, enraging and embittering them against any and all around them. This was not a threat to just the Aeldari, but to everything in the galaxy. Her children had a greater empathy for their kin, as they were all connected to some degree through the psychic net. Anything else was foreign to them, as they were not intrinsically linked to their psyche; unable to share emotions or thoughts freely in a way indescribable to any other species.

Thus, the first target of their rage would be everything that wasn't them. A mass genocide of every other race would begin before her children turned their weapons upon themselves. The thousands of warships, troop carriers, and Talismans of Vaul repurposed for reconstruction and spread throughout the galaxy would be returned to their original purpose, and fire upon every race old and new.

Isha turned her Warp Sight to the palace of Asuryan, for this act by Khaine surely overstepped his role. However, she only saw the ever-bored gaze of Asuryan looking back at her, with no intention to act. For some unfathomable reason, Asuryan saw no reason to stop Khaine.

She glared at him once, before returning her full attention to the crisis before her. Even now her throne shook as another part of her domain crumbled to dust.

Khaine's destruction of the Aeldari had become self-sustaining. He would destroy entire planets, claim the majority of their souls, and move on to the next to sow even more destruction; leaving Isha to collect the ashes to prevent the destabilization of the Sea of Souls.

This slaughter would endanger everything. Yet, Asuryan did not act, even as the burning image of her father grew more ferocious and daemonic, Aspect of the Reaper jutting out as a new title, 'the Lord of Murder', was given to him by her children.

Isha grit her teeth. She needed to buy time while she considered her options.

"Damn you father, for what you force me to do!" SIlver eyes sparking, Isha set her foresight upon every planet of the Aeldari, predicted which ones Khaine would alight upon, and watched the populace burn and die in an unavoidable future. Several hundred reddish black tears formed in her hand, and she threw them at the planets she knew would be doomed, concluding that there was no saving the children there. Thus, the loss of life would not stain her hand, for her miracle would free them from the painful anger and all-consuming bloodlust, saving their souls from Khaine's fire.

Tear after tear fell into the materium, falling into orbit above the doomed planets, programmed to fall once Khaine arrived, rebirthing each one before Khaine could conscript her children to continue his slaughter.

Khaine's Avatars disappeared with the planets they formed upon as Isha's miracle fell to the surface and activated, slowing the spread of destruction as he was denied his next harvest of souls, forcing him to reduce his forces as his reserves of energy were temporarily depleted.

In that brief moment where Khaine's influence ebbed, Isha reached for every Psychomaton she could, and gave them the order to sleep. They were born from her children, so although they resonated with Khaine, they could still obey her.

As the titanic War-walkers slowed, Isha opened her hand, cracking open the ground beneath them before closing her fist, swallowing millions of weapons of war on thousands of different planets into the ground; burying them in stone coffins that would deafen them to Khaine's psychic call.

"Cegorach, buy me time." Isha contacted the Laughing God, whose aberrant nature would enjoy this disruption of normalcy.

A cackle came back, and Isha saw the great coils of the Cosmic Serpent Saim-Hann unwind from Gork and Mork, lifting the psychic blockade on the diminished Krork. Reunited with their gods, they began to launch a new great Waaagh with improvised ships and teleportation devices, spreading from their prison worlds and coming in contact with her enraged children. However, this would save the majority of the galaxy. Her children's bloodlust would redirect itself towards the violent green skins, providing an outlet for their anger. Their war would provide cover for the other less well defended races of the galaxy. The perfect bitter irony Cegorach so enjoyed; for the old race of violent maniacs would serve as the shield against her own children, insane with Khaine's rage, in a role reversal on galactic scale.

With Khaine slowed and her children occupied with slaughtering the green skins, Isha returned to solving the mystery of her father's actions.

'What does Lilieath have to do with this?' She thought to herself, and delved into the memories of all her children, searching through their dreams and visions for a clue as to what motivated Khaine to do all this.

Isha's blood froze in her veins when she found the answer in the visions of her most powerful children; Seers with the greatest potential for seeing the future.

It was a pink and purple poison that was seeping through the children most connected to the Sea of Souls, creating a thing that was not supposed to be present for tens of thousands of years.

Lilieath's vision was as much a self-fulfilling prophecy as it was a warning. Some took her daughter's message as it was, but the more powerful the Seer, the more clearly they saw what awaited them. These children lost all hope or inhibition; collapsing into depression or madness as the fear of eternal torture overwhelmed their mortal minds. Their terror infected all those around them through the psychic net, forcing them to try to shut out the sight of what was to come by overwhelming their other senses. The result of the temptress Goddess of Excess's call to them from the realm of probability and possibility through the window of dreams in an unconscious effort to speed Hir own birth.

However, it was that poison that allowed Khaine to act rationally. This slaughter seemed unjustified, but with Lilieath's message, it gave a reason for the culling; justified the murder of the Aeldari by the very god that had protected them for so long. Thus, Khaine would remain Khaine despite his actions, and Asuryan would never act; so long as Isha allowed it.

"Why? WHY?!" Isha gave a banshee shriek, rocking the very foundations of the pantheon.

Why was she not consulted? They could have found some way to delay or avoid this.

Why had they acted without her permission? Life and its definition was her domain, not theirs.

What purpose did all this slaughter and anguish have? Was there something else so horrible that they needed to do all this?

Isha pulled back from her children, inspecting the extent of the damage through the psychic net to reconfirm her options.

Khaine's influence boiled in the center, like an underwater volcano sending red orange froth outwards, agitating the minds and hearts of her children with rage and hate.

Lilieath's dreams fell inside and outside the parts disturbed by Khaine; multiple spots of pink and purple poison spreading deeper and further like drops of food coloring in water, sinking and expanding into the psyche of her children.

The skies of the pantheon darkened, as despair blackened Isha's heart. Prediction and simulation of the spread of her father and daughter's influence yielded only one conclusion. Neither her voice nor any of the other gods aside from the Phoenix King could stop the spread of hate and despair. There was only one way she could remove both of them safely from her children.

Asuryan's edict.

Khaine and Lilieath had overstepped their purview, encroaching on her Truth and definition.

It was her right to activate it.

But, once activated, none of the gods would be able to influence the mortal realm. That meant every prayer of her children would go unanswered, and the fate of the galaxy would be in their fallible hands and limited minds.

It was a dangerous gamble, especially with the reconstruction being incomplete, and so much damage done to the hearts and minds of her children. She could not make the decision lightly.

Isha rose from her throne. The time Cegorach and herself had bought was running out. She would need to see what her daughter saw before she made her final decision.

Isha ran to Lilieath's domain, forcing open the door only to find a single crystalline figurine of her daughter on the bedside table beside the hammock she used.

It was a vision meant for her, and one Lilieath had wanted her to see, for she had known that Isha would come here and left it in her place.

The crystal figurine was frozen in the kneeling posture of her daughter, as if begging forgiveness.

Isha's hand snatched the figurine up angrily. No explanation imaginable could justify what had been done behind her back. Even if it was justifiable, it did not change the fact that she had been betrayed, her children slaughtered, and the galaxy endangered. However, she was here to consult the Goddess of Dreams and Visions, and she would see what her daughter foresaw she would need to see.

The vision played out in Isha's mind, and the figurine slipped from her hand, shattering into a thousand diamond like shards on the floor.

This was why Lilieath doomed the Aeldari? For this, she spurred Khaine on forcing Isha's hand?

The logic was sound, and Isha understood the slippery slope she had always stood on. She was the balance and the definer of life. A cycle that turned eternally around an ever-shifting point of homeostasis that ebbed, flowed, and at times self-destructed. It was her role to redefine life every time it happened, so her miracle and legend could be recreated for the Aeldari as many times as necessary.

However, Khaine and Lilieath's actions could not be the answer. Leaving the galaxy to their conclusion would leave it dangerously depleted of life.

Although the culling of her children and all the other races would prevent the forming of She who Thirsts, and reduced the other gestating Ruinous Powers, it left everything vulnerable to a Necron resurgence. There would be no point saving the galaxy if it was all left for their ancient enemy to do as they pleased when they eventually returned.

There was no confirmation that all the Star Gods had been shattered either, and even then the fragments might rejoin and reform to restart the harvest of souls that was their only form of enjoyment.

Other horrors existed in the galaxy as well. Warp Plague remnants, divine deserters, abandoned species, and the Old One's failed methods to force all those who wouldn't to fight. The chances of her enraged children awakening one or more of these were unacceptably high. Although that occurrence would have no meaning to Khaine, for it would have the same effect as culling the Aeldari. For that reason alone, Isha could not allow it. What would replace her children would be far worse, and they would not allow new species to spawn; overwriting them before they even had the chance to breathe their first breath.

The existential threat of an extragalactic invader was also an ever-present distant threat. They were not the only ones in this universe, and any species that needed to travel between galaxies was either one that had a level of technology and culture unimaginable by even the gods, or had devoured everything in their old home, forcing them to find a new one to feed on.

Leaving this galaxy to one or more of those outcomes after everything she had done, everything she and her children sacrificed was unforgivable.

Worst of all, Khaine would only continue to act so long as Isha did not do her utmost to stop him. That meant, so long as Isha did not activate the edict, no matter how hard she pushed back or how many tears she spilled, the responsibility for all the deaths would lie upon her. To her children, whether she abandoned them to Khaine or acted against them herself, it was no different. They would die regardless, and only the phrasing of the legend that would come after would change, not its meaning.

If that happened, whether it was another 60 million or another 600 million years, Lilieath's vision would come eventually true.

'We still had time…' Isha thought to herself as the skies rumbled above her; thunder and lightning booming and flashing as her emotions became ever more violent.

But she knew why Lilieath forced her hand and made the decision of how life was to be lived by her children and all the other species in the galaxy for her.

As long as Isha followed her legend, the choice between bestowing her miracle was a binary one. A choice between 1 and 0.

As long as the choice was easy, she could make the hard decision with her tears.

When she became the decider of what fraction of life was allowable, what acts deserved her miracle and what didn't, she would eventually fall from her throne. After eons of predicting and preventing corruption from all sources, she would appear upon every planet and every star with black tears streaming down her face, only for them to fall upon every single stellar body as all life came to the conclusion of its cycle with her mournful cries.

That ending was something Lilieath could not allow, for the eternal rest was a dreamless one.

'We still had time…' Isha shook her head to herself.

She knew from the moment of her birth that she would suffer eternally to prevent the eventuality foreseen by Lilieath. Any weapon of war that enjoyed its function too much was as much a threat to its creators as it was to their enemies.

Her misery and sorrow, and the method by which her miracle was powered ensured she would forever weep to recreate it.

'We still had time…' Isha reflected upon her own actions, and gritted her teeth.

Lilieath's visions did not always come true, but to see them meant there was the chance they could happen. Isha had become more reckless and more unrestrained with the newfound freedom she and her children enjoyed. She ignored the original order of things, as all life does in its constant evolution to adapt to its surroundings.

Even then, the choice had always been between 1 and 0. There was no chance of Isha falling today or tomorrow or even a million years from now.

There had still been time, but not anymore.

Isha stormed out of the room, calling the winds to carry her to the abode of Morai Heg. If there was anyone who could avert fate, it would be the Crone. Lilieath would be there as well, and Isha needed to see if she truly understood what she had done.

As the winds howled around her, Isha stormed into the room where Morai Heg and Lilieath were waiting.

"LILIEATH!" The ground shook as Isha called her daughter's name and reached for her daughter upon Morai Heg's shoulder. "What have you done!"

Just as Isha's hand was about to close around Lilieath's entire body, Morai Heg's remaining hand closed around her wrist.

"She did what she had to, daughter." Her mother spoke quietly, and thunder rumbled with Isha's rage at her mother's statement.

The Crone sided with the Goddess of Dreams and Visions, pronouncing her prophecy valid and the fate chosen to be immutable.

There was no turning back from this crossroad.

Dark green and blackish brown energies swirled in Isha's eyes as she glared into her mother's pupils.

"It was not her decision to make!" She cried. The Aeldari were doomed, as well as every god in their pantheon. Lilieath had sealed her own fate, and the Aeldari without a single word to her mother.

"They are my children! That is my duty, my burden to bear, my Truth! NOT HERS!" Lightning struck the ground, sending shards of Wraithbone flying, only to be seized by the winds and dragged up into the black sky. Isha saw with her own foresight the future of Lilieath and Morai Heg. If eternal torment was all that awaited them, why did she even bother holding back and simply end everything as it was ahead of schedule?

"Then you know what you have to do in order to go back to that path."

The Crone's gaze was unmoving, unflinching, and unafraid. The fate of the Aeldari was still in Isha's hands. Lilieath may have put them at the crossroad, but Morai Heg's pronouncement made it clear that the final decision was still Isha's to make.

Isha glared into the eyes of her mother and daughter and saw their resolve as the double vision of foresight overlaid with the present view; showing nothing but scattered ashes and the voiceless, faceless, limbless form Lilieath would eventually be reduced to. In their eyes, Isha's own fate was reflected for her to see; naked and caged in rusted metal, force fed endless plagues and poxes by the oldest of the new usurpers who were still unborn.

That was the future they had chosen, with full foreknowledge of what would happen at the end of both paths.

Isha turned away from them, yanking her wrist out of Morai Heg's hand.

There were no more words necessary, the choice was to either move forwards into pain or slide backwards into blackness.

—----------------------------------------

Isha reflected on her emotions of that time as she continued down the dark corridor. Part of Isha wished to do as Morai Heg had said; simply allow Khaine's slaughter to complete and bring oblivion to everything as Lilieath foresaw.

However, she could not do that.

To return to the analogy of the train, Lilieath had stood on the tracks and grabbed the lever that changed the direction of the train and pulled with all her might to send the locomotive screaming over her own body and the bodies of Isha's children, mangling them all, sending blood and limbs in every direction.

The timing was too early for Isha, for there were still several splits in the direction the tracks of fate could have gone, but Lilieath too was Isha's child, and if this was the future she preferred over the eventual oblivion her mother would bring, then Isha would grant her hateful wish.

'Then there was the talk with Asuryan.' Isha thought glumly to herself, returning to memory as she opened the door to another one of her mortal children in need of her mercy.

—----------------------------------------

Isha landed at the palace of Asuryan and stormed through the entrance way to the audience chamber where Asuryan sat on his throne.

"So, you have made your decision." Asuryan said, sitting bored on his throne as she marched before him.

"You knew everything." Isha spat at him, glaring at him with teeth bared.

"Of course I did." Asuryan shrugged. "I would make a poor god that gave the Aeldari all their powers if I was not elevated above the rest of you as much as you are elevated above them."

"Then why did you not say anything?" Isha growled.

Asuryan sighed, and lifted a hand, detaching the flow of time within the audience chamber from everything else around them, preventing any from outside the walls from ever listening to what was said inside.

"I know everything that has, is, and will happen. I already see the choice you've made, and what you plan to do to disobey me with your consort and another one of my brothers." He snorted and muttered 'if only you could keep your secrets better hidden' under his breath.

"However…" Asuryan resumed in his normal tone. "Just because I see everything does not mean I have to prattle about it like the three of you."

Isha opened her mouth, but Asuryan raised a finger to shush her. "Before you ask your next question, you already know why I do not do that. If I told you or any of the others what to do or when to stop, it would be no different from me commanding the Aeldari; just as much as leaving my brother makes you responsible for your children's deaths."

Isha bit back her harsh words, for what Asuryan said was true. If she was guilty by proxy for her inaction, any command or warning given to any god by Asuryan would eventually reach the mortal realm.

"If my voice ever reached the Aeldari, they would cease to be a species from that point forward, merely pawns dancing at my command. Without free-will, individual-thought, or doubt; they would become nothing, and even the Sea of Souls would become bleak and bland. All the clouds would turn silver, and my boredom would become the new reality; truly leaving nothing but a hell of my own making."

Asuryan straightened his back, placing his arms on the armrests of the throne, bringing himself to his full seated height.

"We live in the Sea of Souls. A place where tomorrow happens before yesterday. A choice once made echoes forwards and backwards." Asuryan's eyes fixed onto Isha's and the silver flames that burned within the eyes of an otherwise rather unremarkable Aeldari seemed to rage; like a prisoner gripping the bars while thrashing and screaming to be released. "To choose even once as a god means to have chosen until the very end. There is no avoiding or preventing that."

Isha glowered at the Phoenix King; the one from whom all Aeldari stemmed from, and the divine ruler of the Aeldari Pantheon. To speak with Asuryan was to be belittled and lectured. He appeared omniscient and was intended to be so by their creators, but in truth he was a silvery polished mirror or conjoined set of lenses that reflected everything and everyone who spoke to him.

Yet, in this Sea of Souls where time had no meaning, Asuryan perceived everything that had and had not happened to the beings that saw him. Therefore, he knew the beginning and ending of everything that caught sight of him and was eternally bound to inaction because of that fact. His role after giving life to the Aeldari was to maintain the law between the gods, judge any who could reach the foot of his throne, and ensure they remained true to their own self-described nature and function.

Thus, the only answers that he gave were those found within the asker themselves, and his miracle would only be granted in a way that the god or mortal wishing for it could understand.

Still, she could not stop herself from attempting to convince him of the impossible.

"Your death lies at the end of either road. Do you not think to prevent it?" Asuryan was the ruler of this Pantheon. She who Thirsts would come from the Aeldari gods, and Isha herself was ultimately subservient to him. He had the power to hold back both, if only he chose to do so.

"I know that..." Asuryan nodded, face impassive and unemotional. "And it makes no difference." The ghost of a smile seemed to cross his lips for an instance before disappearing. "Either way, I will finally be free."

Isha looked downwards as her fists balled. That was the same answer Asuryan always gave:

Even when the winds of battle during the War in Heaven blew against them.

Even when the Warp Plagues erupted, and the Old Ones were exterminated one by one.

Even now when certain doom loomed before them.

"But…" Asuryan continued. "That is not the true reason for your ire." The all-knowing self-satisfied smile Asuryan always wore during his lectures spread across his face. "Lilieath took away your choice, while leaving it in your hands. The fact that you stand before me means you have already made it exactly as she hoped and foresaw. That is the truth of the matter, and the instinctual anger you feel as a god."

He chuckled as her brow furrowed before continuing.

"There is a primitive saying that is yet to be said, 'The dye is darker than the plants it is made from.' Lilieath, your child, understands the importance of a choice made by a god far better than you. That is why she made her choice so you would never have the chance to make yours. The suffering of the Aeldari and our deaths are merely secondary. Afterall, you are created by death and sorrow, with only your love keeping the balance between what you were made to do and what you are made from."

"You think pride and possessiveness are all that drive me?" Isha's voice was quiet, but it was the quiet before the storm, the receding of the ocean before the tsunami struck.

Asuryan sighed and scratched his head. "Even now, you try your hardest not to understand. What did I expect? Nothing is as ugly to a hypocrite as their own reflection."

The cursed eyes of Asuryan turned back on Isha, reflecting her glare and bared teeth. "The pain of life is nothing to its goddess, for it is she who allows it to torture all that walk within the cycle."

Before Isha could retort, Asuryan raised his hand again, and the time within the audience chamber reconnected with time outside.

"Now, choose; Goddess of Life." Asuryan's voice was authoritative, commanding, but utterly devoid of emotion.

"Will you expand your definition to how life should be lived, cull all those left wanting, and eventually fall as the futility of it all finally breaks your heart?"

"Will you allow Khaine to claim the mantle of reaper in your stead, and watch as the galaxy grows dark before destroying everything that is left as your children redefine what you are and what you represent?"

"Or will you proceed unwillingly along the doomed path laid before us by your daughter, fighting to change fate for all for eternity?"

Three tracks were laid before Isha, which led to only two outcomes:

One of obliteration and another of oblivion; both ending in the same way.

One of pain where the suffering of every Aeldari and every god was waiting.

The choice was already made as Asuryan had said.

Isha knelt before the Phoenix King and uttered the words necessary to request the activation of the edict.

"By my Truth and right as the Goddess of Life, I demand the activation of the edict for the usurpation of my duty and definition by the God of War and now Lord of Murder, Khaine. In accordance with our laws, the realm of mortals shall be shut off and protected from us until the invasion of my domain ends. I rob the Aeldari of their greatest strength and leave their questions unanswered with my divine mind. They shall be led by my champion and hero; Eldanesh, the first of the Aeldari. He acts in our stead as our hand and voice, and only he shall pass through the walls that hold us in."

"So be it." Asuryan said, and his voice echoed through the entire palace, reverberating and reflecting upon itself while growing higher and lower in pitch at the same time, until it was as if an entire chorus was made with just his voice.

Silver flames rose from his form as Asuryan's edict activated, rising in a silver pillar of flames that punched a hole through the black clouds of Isha, and entered the realm of mortals. The flames entered the mind of every Aeldari, wiping out every trace of Khaine and Lilieath's touch from the psychic net, reverting them and the Psychomatons taken by Khaine to their normal state.

The Avatars faded into nothing as Khaine was brought back in his own pillar of flames, and Wraithbone walls rose around the pantheon; barriers to keep the Aeldari gods in first and everything else out second.

Isha marched out of the audience chamber, no longer interested in talking to the Phoenix King.

He would never act, for to do so was to choose to influence the world with foreknowledge of every action and reaction. When that choice was made, every other choice would be made as well, for only the most optimal and least burdensome path would be chosen, and there would be nothing but the word of Asuryan left.

The Phoenix King valued self-determination above almost anything, for it was the one thing he did not have, for he was cursed with foresight so powerful no choice existed. Thus, he would never act, even if those he gave life to chose to destroy everything they had built.

As Isha stormed out of the palace and into the courtyard, she locked eyes with Khaine who had just returned from the mortal realm. Blood dripped from his sword, and she could see the ghostly outlines of the children he had forcibly conscripted to continue his slaughter in the mortal realm within his flames.

There was a banshee cry, and Isha did not know whether it was coming from her throat or her father's, but the two clashed as everything Isha had suffered broke out in a flood of violence.

The bout lasted only a few moments before Asuryan's chains separated them.

"The edict has been activated as decreed." The Phoenix King said, tone quiet and unemotional. "From this point forth, all contact with the materium has been forbidden."

Isha sank to her knees, chains clinking as the rain grew heavier, soaking through her clothing and sticking it to her skin.

Khaine remained standing, raindrops hissing as they hit his flaming form. His burning eyes glared at Isha's bowed head.

"Are they worth everything that can and will be lost, daughter?" Khaine finally said.

"They are my children." Isha whispered. "They are my duty, my responsibility."

She was the Goddess of Life and the mother of the Aeldari. However, she would never tell them how to live their lives or punish them for their sins. The only time she would take back what she gave was as an act of love and mercy, as it always had been. If she ever chose otherwise, she would betray Lilieath, and invalidate everything her daughter was prepared to sacrifice.

That was her choice, and how she would define life from then on, no matter how hard she tried to forget that fact.

The rest of Khaine and Asuryan's words dulled as Isha stared downwards through the immaterium, locking eyes with Eldanesh as he glared upwards into the Sea of Souls with all his followers, angry at what the gods had done to the mortal realm, unable to understand what had transpired but fully aware of who was responsible.

A hundred years had already passed since Khaine burned the first planet.

Her beloved hero and champion was weary from keeping the peace within the Aeldari as their anger grew, redirecting it to the Krork and their gods when Cegorach provided the scapegoat necessary to sate their bloodlust. Now, he had to deal with the green skins without the assistance of any of his gods, and lead without their divine knowledge; unsure of whether the path he proceeded down was correct. She watched him reach out to touch the edict only to stop himself before his fingers could pass through the Wraithbone walls that now surrounded the Aeldari Pantheon. He believed in the gods and trusted their decision. He would deal with the issues left in the mortal realm, as he was the first and chosen of his race and acted in the gods' stead as their voice and hand in the materium.

That was the definition of his duty and role.

Isha watched as Eldanesh returned to his council of surviving Seers, preparing to spread hastily made myths and legends; the propaganda necessary to keep the populace's belief in the gods stable. The edict may prevent the gods from reaching the mortal realm, but other creatures lurked in the immaterium; warp predators, parasites, and plagues from the War in Heaven that the gods would need the Aeldari's faith to fight.

Once that was done, he could finally put down the Krork remnants and their gods with psychic power and poisonous politics. When he was finished, they would be broken and divided, forever pulling their gods in different directions, eternally fighting themselves and everything else. Then, he would rebuild what was broken with mortal means. Only after everything was returned to where it was before this disaster would he storm the gates of the Aeldari Pantheon in his personal quest to demand answers for what had transpired.

—----------------------------------------

Isha closed the eyes of another one of her children, as she laid their body on the floor. This ship was now devoid of Aeldari life, and it was time to move on to the next ship.

As she accessed the former pleasure cruiser's controls, replicating the signal required to contact the Emperor, Isha reflected on all she had done.

After activating the edict, she had tried many times to avert fate.

She had gone with Kurnous to beg Asuryan to allow only their knowledge to reach their children, fully knowing it would be in vain.

She had asked Lilieath to re-send her prophecy. With the damage done, there was no point hiding what would happen to the Aeldari from their foresight, and dreams were the one way the gods were still connected to the mortal realm.

She had worked with Vaul and Kurnous to repurpose her tears to allow their teachings to find a way to the materium.

Time and time again, she had schemed and fought, pleaded and threatened to save the Aeldari.

Some may think her partially successful, as the tears modified by Vaul and imbued with Kurnous's teachings did reach the mortal realm and still remained buried on several of the Core Worlds. A few of her children had escaped the first assault of She who Thirsts, giving them the chance to take up the sword and spear to prepare to defend their soul.

However, the fate foreseen by Lilieath had not yet ended. Isha was not in a rusted cage at this moment, but whether that possibility had been averted or merely delayed was yet to be seen.

There was the chance that fate would come from the Emperor's hand, bartered to the Plague Lord for some secret or gift once she was no longer useful. She was merely a tool to the Master of Mankind, and only for so long as she was useful as the Emperor told her when they first met.

A portal opened before Isha, leading to another one of the former pleasure cruisers, and Isha stepped through it into another dark corridor while internally returning her thoughts from the past to the present.

This relationship between the Emperor and her needed to be reforged. They were alike in some ways. Her hate and self-loathing would not have resonated within the Emperor if they were not for she saw them fuel the fire within those brown eyes.

The Emperor's conclusion, although ignorant, was not entirely incorrect. She had thought of choosing the other path, only doing the opposite because of her mortal and divine children. In that sense, it was her love that made her choose the opposite of the Emperor. Therefore, the Emperor's accusation was not completely inaccurate, if only barely scraping the target out of blink luck than anything else.

What that meant was that there was the potential for empathy between them. Whether that could be nurtured through temporary obedience and subservience was yet to be seen, but at the very least, they were not entirely incapable of understanding each other.

She snorted to herself as another possibility entered her mind.

'Perhaps it is because we are both hypocrites in our own way that we can understand one another, and in turn cannot stand to look at each other.'

A hypocritical Goddess of Life who originally made life only to send it to die, and whose true miracle was only dispensed on those that could not be saved.

A hypocritical god that was not a god that wished to protect its people, while brutalizing and sacrificing them endlessly to pave only a single golden path forwards, robbing them of their personality and choice.

Isha looked down at the place her children's warships had crashed, the continuous line of valleys and gorges; as if some one had taken the crust of the planet in two hands and shoved it together.

The Psychomatons she had buried here to protect from Khaine's call remained, deafened in the same way to the psychic scream of She who Thirsts. They and many other groups of War-walkers still slumbered on a couple hundred planets, unrecovered by Eldanesh or the Aeldari that came after him during the reconstruction. All the others who were freed from Khaine when the edict activated or were dug up and reawakened by the Aeldari were gone, consumed entirely for they were far closer to the Goddess of Excess than any other.

Whether the Emperor accepted their service or not would determine how she would deal with Humanity's Protector.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.
Title: Well, it's a title that's on the nose, simply because I never intended to write out this chapter before hand. I will be honest, this is a work of spite for everyone who seemed to think the Emperor's 2 dimensional way of viewing things was correct.

Main Part: This part explains why there are Psychomatons buried on this planet. That was always their backstory, hence the description about the crust appearing to have been shoved together by someone's hands. That was planned all the way back then.

Isha's miracle is taken from legend, and it takes into account that she is a weapon of war like all the other gods.

It also takes inspiration from some of the quotes from older 40K books that talk about what happens when a Spirit Stone gets damaged.

Spoiler: Not much of a spoiler, but just in case.

It apparently detonates, violently. Tears of Isha store souls, but seem to be primarily for storing psychic energy first, with that feature being exploited after the Fall to also store souls.

The point of this story and flashback (besides being written out of spite for all the people who think Isha just screwed up for something as simple as love)

Spoiler

Honestly, do you believe me to be so gauche and simple?

is to set-up as many flags as possible so new arguments and perspectives don't just come out of the blue. A lot of the concepts and arguments should show up in the final act.

It's also to point out that Isha's fate hasn't actually changed according to Lilieath. Lilieath foresaw that Isha would escape the Fall in the prologue, but she still sees the outcome of her mother in a rusted cage in Nurgle's garden. The again, maybe that's just a temporary fate until Isha is rescued, or maybe that really is the ending of her story. So far, a lot of named characters have died. Whose to say Isha will be any different?

Besides being annoying, I wanted to make sure that we dispelled any notion of standard story telling or promised happy endings before we continue. It is rather important for the final act. I want the suspense to be real and believable.

Sure, I've posted that Isha and the Emperor will eventually reach Terra, but in what state and what relationship or to whose benefit can really change how that's acheived.

If there's one thing I regret, it's that I had to foreshadow what Isha's miracle is, and how exactly she brings about new life. Then again, throwing that concept out of the blue might have given people whiplash, so putting the original legend from 40K with some Isha foreshadowing might have been serendipitous in timing.

Edit #1: Added a section to explain what Lilieath did.
Asuryan clarified what Lilieath did here.

Lilieath, your child, understands the importance of a choice made by a god far better than you. That is why she made her choice so you would never have the chance to make yours.

Click to shrink...

She prevented Isha from ever making a more complicated choice other than 1 or 0.

As to what that more difficult choice was, Asuryan clarified it in the choices he gives Isha.

Will you expand your definition to how life should be lived, cull all those left wanting, and eventually fall as the futility of it all finally breaks your heart?

Click to shrink...

This is referenced in the prologue as well.

In her dreams, Lileath had watched her mother beg and plead with her mortal children; to turn them from their evil ways. Some would listen, but most would mock and spurn her warnings, instead demanding more of nature's bounty to feed their ever growing thirst.

Then, on one unknowable night, Isha would come with fatal song and silent voice; to take back what she gave.
...
Every life she took, each child undone by her voice would bring misery and mourning to her eternal heart.

And a new Goddess would be born; more terrible than serendipitous Slaanesh, self-defeating Tzeentch, rage-filled Khorne, or despondent Nurgle.

A sane self-loathing goddess of merciless culling, and terrible purpose; the Miserable Mother. A goddess that would take from the weak and the strong in equal measure, to balance out the mourning she would spread. A new reaper of souls that kept all things in balance while seeking to tip the scale to one side at the same time. An internal hypocrisy that would see her torn apart by her own two hands.

Click to shrink...

In Lilieath's dreams, Isha actively tried to tell her children how not to turn to Slaanesh. This can be rephrased as Isha telling her children how to live their lives, and when they refused to listen, she took back what she gave in order to restore the balance of life as she defined it.

To further break it down, 1 is the state of Aeldari being alive. 0 is the state of Aeldari not being alive.

When a planet with Aeldari on it reaches the 0 state, Isha bestows her miracle upon that planet.

Total Slaanesh corruption means no more Aeldari (i.e. 0), but Slaanesh's corruption is not a binary thing. There are levels of depravity.

When Isha is forced to decide what percentage of corruption means an Aeldari can no longer be saved from Slaanesh, the choice is no longer binary.

This is further complicated because Isha is in the Sea of Souls, and as an Aeldari goddess has foresight as well. In chapter 15, I showed how Isha decides between 1 and 0, and this was meant to hint at why making the choice non-binary was really dangerous.

SIlver eyes sparking, Isha set her foresight upon every planet of the Aeldari, predicted which ones Khaine would alight upon, and watched the populace burn and die in an unavoidable future. Several hundred reddish black tears formed in her hand, and she threw them at the planets she knew would be doomed, concluding that there was no saving the children there. Thus, the loss of life would not stain her hand, for her miracle would free them from the painful anger and all-consuming bloodlust, saving their souls from Khaine's fire.

Click to shrink...

If this was applied to a planet undergoing Slaanesh corruption, depending on what point in the future Isha looks at the planet, it could be only 1% corrupted or 99% corrupted by Slaanesh.

If Isha sees that a planet is 100% corrupted in 100 years, but it is only 1% corrupted at the present time, then she should take back the lives of the Aeldari now instead of 100 years in the future. That way, she can reduce the amount of damage and pain the Aeldari there suffer from Slaanesh. However, for the Aeldari living on the planet, it would be as if Isha was suddenly taking back their lives for using too much sugar or salt in their cooking. (This is hyperbole, but you get the gist of it.) That would have nasty implications for Isha as a goddess, and redifine what Isha represented over time as the perception in the Aeldari of what she was changed.

To dehumanize Isha, and describe what would have happened to her in Emperor-like terms, Isha's Fall can be summarized as her processing power being exceeded by the problem she was trying to solve.

The problem she was trying to solve was the salvation of the Aeldari from Slaanesh.

As Isha's attempts to decide what Aeldari can and can't be saved using Warp Sight, foresight, and their own memories through the psychic net, some of her judgements will be incorrect. Furthermore, as Isha learns and optimizes herself according to her environment (as shown below) once those incorrect judgements start building up, the threshold for what can and cannot be saved becomes less and less tolerant.

Isha had become more reckless and more unrestrained with the newfound freedom she and her children enjoyed. She ignored the original order of things, as all life does in its constant evolution to adapt to its surroundings.

Click to shrink...

Asuryan calls this process the breaking of Isha's heart, and he's not wrong. Isha would feel pain, guilt, frustration, anger, and a whole lot of other emotions as she is forced to tackle an unsolveable problem. To go back to using more Aeldari or human-like terms, every time Isha makes the decision to end the Aeldari that do not listen to her, the process becomes easier as she becomes more accustomed to the pain and numb to the consequences. Thus, more and more worlds with less and less Slaanesh corruption would be reclaimed by Isha as the very hint of corruption would be enough to convince her that the planet could no longer be saved.

Eventually, all Aeldari would be deemed unable to be saved and as there is no point for life without the Aeldari for the Aeldari Goddess of Life, Isha would bestow her miracle upon every planet and every star in the galaxy.

That is the choice Lilieath could not allow Isha to make.

This is not a short process. At the very least, another 10 million years would have been necessary for Isha to reach the point where Aeldari would actively start fearing for their lives. However, once that process begins, there is no stopping it.

Once Isha's heart begins to break, nobody can stop her. Isha tried to ask Asuryan to do so, but he replied with the below.

Before you ask your next question, you already know why I do not do that. If I told you or any of the others what to do or when to stop, it would be no different from me commanding the Aeldari; just as much as leaving my brother makes you responsible for your children's deaths.

Click to shrink...

As for the other gods, they wouldn't be able to stop her either. Besides being extremely powerful due to life being such a wide and all encompassing domain, the edict would not be able to stop Isha because life is hers to define. In other words, if she decided that all life was doomed, nobody else can activate the edict against her because that is her domain and they don't get a say in how she defines life.

The line below was supposed to hint at how the edict would not be able to stop Isha as it did Khaine.

By my Truth and right as the Goddess of Life, I demand the activation of the edict for the usurpation of my duty and definition by the God of War and now Lord of Murder, Khaine.

Click to shrink...

In order for one of the other gods to stop Isha, they would have to usurp part of her duty or definition. If they tried to do that, Asuryan himself would stop them.

His role after giving life to the Aeldari was to maintain the law between the gods, judge any who could reach the foot of his throne, and ensure they remained true to their own self-described nature and function.

Click to shrink...

This is why, when Lilieath saw the dream, she almost immediately acted to prevent it because there is literally no stopping Isha once she goes down that path. That is why Lilieath forced Isha to become the below.

She was the Goddess of Life and the mother of the Aeldari. However, she would never tell them how to live their lives or punish them for their sins.

Click to shrink...

As a side note, I was half-expecting a bunch of comments about how whether the above meant Isha would not harm those on Commorragh. The short answer is yes, she cannot unilaterally reclaim the Aeldari lives on Commorragh, even if they are becoming even worse than the Core Worlders.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them.
♪1 Fate Hollow Ataraxia OST - Stranger (Extended)
♪2 I'll protect you from everything (Fate/Stay night: Heaven's Feel - III. Spring Song OST)
♪3 Fate/ zero OST -Painful-

Kyrazis dragged another one of the bridge crew out from beneath the wreckage; Araldir, one of the comms officers. Both of his legs were missing, crushed under his terminal when the cruiser crash landed on the planet. Luckily, he was still conscious, and holding back his own blood from spilling out from the wound with his telekinesis.

The ship's bridge was a mess. Shattered Wraithbone lay in jagged splinters of all sizes, some falling down upon them and impaling the bridge crew while the crash itself flattened the ship under its own weight, trapping some like the grimacing Aeldari in his arms.

If this was a human ship, there would have been sparks and flames, but as most of the ship was psychically powered, there was no fire and smoke to burn and choke them. However, with the Wraithbone shattered, the innards of the ship were dark as a starless moonless night, and it was only thanks to their eagle eyes and enhanced senses that they could move around safely.

Mordraxus was busy at the somewhat intact command throne, backrest laid backwards to its fullest to function as an impromptu surgery table. Another Aeldari lay there, fully awake and cognizant as the bent form of the biomancer loomed over the hole in her midriff. His hands were raised above the wound, as if to protect a candle from being blown out by a harsh wind, using his psychic telekinesis to hold the various ruptured blood vessels and displaced organs of the Aeldari who had been pinned to the ground like an insect by a shard of Wraithbone. He lifted the blood that had spilt out when they extracted the shard in a single globule, and proceeded to knit the various broken tissues together in a patchwork that would stop the bleeding. The patient grit her teeth. This would save her life, but the treatment would cause immense discomfort as these new connections and forcefully grown scar tissue would tug and pull her innards in odd ways if she moved too quickly or forcefully. Empty bottles and depleted equipment were placed in a neat row next to his feet. Mordraxus's supplies were virtually exhausted, meaning he had only his psychic talents left to treat the wounded.

"The Mon-keigh will come soon." Kyrazis said, as he carried the Aeldari with the missing legs to lie with the other grievously injured. "How many more can we get mobile?"

Casualty reports from the psychic net told him that every other deck was more or less in the same state. On average, one fifth had died in the impact, with a third of the survivors severely wounded; immobile and unable to fight or flee. Everyone else was bruised, bleeding, or had minor fractures in their bones, but kept all their limbs and organs in the proper place.

"Another couple hours, and I should be able to get another 5 or so moving if they have all their limbs." Mordraxus replied calmly as the wound closed beneath his hands and he squirted some organic sealant to hold the scar tissue closed as a sort of spray on bandage. "Most of my medical supplies are already spent, and my mind grows weary from the psychic exertion of these surgeries."

Kyrazis frowned as he tore off part of Araldir's uniform to tie a tourniquet around his thighs. The man's eyelids were fluttering, and if he passed out he would bleed to death in seconds.

"We need to get everyone out of here as quickly as possible." He said as he pulled the strips of cloth tight, cutting off the blood flow to the wound physically. "The ash clouds above us hide our position and should dissipate their laser weapons, but we are easy targets here."

"And do what, Kyrazis?" The woman on the surgery table suddenly spoke up, raising herself with her arms even as a trickle of blood ran out the side of her mouth. "Run into the wilderness of this gray world of ash and fire and live like those young souls and hermits who ran before the Fall?"

"I would appreciate it if you did not move, Ysolara." Mordarxus admonished as he inspected the work he had done on the wound. "There, all done. Next patient, please."

Ysolara, one of the several Aeldar who had been in charge of firing the ship's weapons, slid off the impromptu surgery table, as two other bridge staff lifted another injured Aeldari into position for Mordraxus to work on.

"What would you have us do then?" Kyrazis stood up to his full height, looming over her. The helmet he wore was gone, shattered by a piece of falling rubble, revealing the pale white clammy skin of his face; red scar on his cheek clearly visible.

The battle with the Mon-keigh had been lost partially due to his decision to focus everything on the enemy flagship. He had felt discontent from the others through the restored psychic net, but he would not tolerate a mutiny here at this time. He could not die here, after everything he had been through.

"I do not know what you or any of the others should do, but I wish to stay here and meet her."

Kyrazis blinked, dumbfounded for a moment before scowling at Ysolara.

"She does not understand us. She does not accept us." He hissed.

That woman who was on the Mon-keigh ship told them only to land on the planet, where a new life awaited them. After everything they had shown her, she told them to live like the Exodites who ran before the disaster struck.

That was not why he had shown her what he had been through; why he relived the horror of losing everything as his mind poured out across space into her heart.

He had asked for an answer to why they had suffered, for what purpose. In return, she offered a solution that was too late, too little, and already attempted by those activists ages ago. That advice fell on deaf ears for thousands of years. Why did she think listening to them now would yield a different result?

"She does not accept what we've done…" Ysolara nodded. "But she has not forsaken us."

Kyrazis snorted at this. "After everything we've just been through, how can you say that?"

The sudden loss of contact with the slave carriers was noticed by all of them. That woman had played a direct part in their defeat. She had chosen the side of the Mon-keigh. What other evidence was necessary to show that she was the enemy?

Ysolara looked downwards, but Kyrazis could feel through the psychic net that she was not cowed by him. She was searching for something inside herself, some way to phrase what she felt. He waited while she formed the sentence in her mind.

He knew this was a waste of time. It had been several hours since the crash, and the Mon-keigh were surely on their way. However, something stopped him from turning away from her answer. Some part of him needed to hear her out.

"I felt her, even in the heat of battle." Ysolara finally opened her lips and spoke. "More than once, her arms brushed against the frame of this ship, passing through my soul and mind as she took all those who died." She stared up into his eyes calmly, and slightly questioningly. "Do you know what I felt at that moment?"

Kyrazis remained silent. The emotion she felt was clear from the psychic signals she sent, but he waited for her to vocalize them.

"Love." Ysolara whispered, and Kyrazis's fists balled as something struggled inside him.

He knew what she felt, because he had felt it as well. Even as hard as he rejected that woman, he could not help but feel her in his very essence.

"Even though she hates what we've done and despises how we've lived our lives, she does not hold it against us." Ysolara finished her sentence, and it was her turn to wait as Kyrazis stood before her, fists shaking as he struggled within himself, rational mind fighting against his irrational emotions.

"Then why kill us?" Kyrazis finally spat out, logic winning over his emotions. "Why drag us into the Mon-keigh trap? Why sabotage our ships, and send us hurtling to the very planet she picked to live on?"

Every action marked her as the enemy. She acted against them both passively as bait, and actively as the saboteur of some of their ships.

"I do not know why she does this to all of us, but after seeing and feeling her, I think I understand why she does this to me." Ysolara took a deep breath before continuing. "She does this to me because I want her to."

"You want to die?" Kyrazis's tone was calm, as if part of him expected the answer.

Ysolara smiled sadly before answering. "I have lived 4000 years, Kyrazis. Every day stopped being an adventure eons ago. In my many lives, I filled the emptiness in my heart that returned every time I reclaimed all the memories I ever had with empty victories over green skins and other primitive aliens. I had already experienced and explored the complicated philosophies and moralities of my actions ages ago. Only the basest acts could bring chemical and hormonal joy in my biological brain, for my soul stopped feeling anything in a forgotten moment of the past. I had everything I ever wanted. I did what I wished and ignored or obliterated everything that annoyed me. That was how I lived, and those actions are what I am now. Trying to live another life now would be to give this body to another person who uses my name, pretending to be someone else, ignoring 4000 years worth of experience and memory."

Ysolara looked up into Kyrazis's eyes, and he saw the weariness in them as he felt the exhaustion radiate from her heart.

"I abandoned our home and followed you for only one reason. Now, I have no need to fear even that."

They were both silent for a while. Kyrazis understood how she felt. It was similar to the mix of emotions he experienced when he stared into the eyes of that daemon back home, but calmer and warmer.

Where his secrets had been brought up from the depths, forcefully reflected in those obsidian mirrors embedded in the orbits of the daemon's skull, hers flowed out naturally like clear water from a newborn spring.

Where he had wanted an escape from pain and guilt, she simply wanted to lie down and rest.

A sudden shiver crossed Kyrazis's skin and Ysolara rubbed her arm as if a chilly wind had just rushed past them.

"She comes, Kyrazis. Do you feel her?" Kyrazis could only nod as Ysolara turned towards the direction they instinctively felt her to be. "She comes for us, even after everything we've done."

There was silence on the bridge and within the psychic net. Only the wet squelch of Mordraxus's surgery interrupted it.

"I was everything I wanted to be on our home world." Araldir, the legless Aeldari spoke up from the ground.

Kyrazis turned to the man, propped up on his elbows, breathing shakily from pain and blood loss.

"I am my past actions and perverse pleasures. There is no changing that. Living any other way would be living a life that was not mine." The man licked his lips and snickered to himself. "I've had enough fun, and finally felt a love I never knew existed." He turned his eyes to Kyrazis. "Everything is good in her arms. This is her mercy."

Kyrazis stepped backwards, and leaned against one of the broken terminals of the bridge. He understood them, even without their emotions radiating out of the psychic net. Their words rang within him, resonating with a feeling that part of him continued to reject.

"I will fight till the last moment." He finally said, and several of the bridge crew chuckled, as if they had all known what he was going to say.

"That is how you've lived student of Qa'leh…" Araldir said, lying back down on the floor. "Not me."

"Go…" Ysolara stepped backwards, out of the way to the most direct path to the corridor that led out of the bridge. "She is waiting."

Kyrazis slowly walked towards the exit, pausing as he passed the impromptu surgery table.

"... And you Mordraxus?" He asked, without looking behind him. "Do you plan to stay here with these suicidal fools?"

"I must say, I agree with most of what's been said. I can only live the life I have had until now. Although, I do wish to see her with my own two eyes. Everything I've ever wanted to know and learn lies within her. Although she is certainly disappointed in me, I too can feel her love. I will join you, once I fix this one's wounds. I'm sure some others would like to follow, and it would be my pleasure as a biomancer to work my craft a few more times before I meet her."

Kyrazis chuckled to himself. "You are all fools."

"As are you." Mordraxus replied, chidingly. "You're more tired than you think you are. I can see what you intend to do. For me, I'd prefer to go quietly."

At this, Kyrazis could only shrug as he started walking out of the bridge again. "Then I guess I'm just as foolish as the lot of you, but what are we all but a race of self-destructive fools?"

"Life does that sometimes." Mordarxus called out after him. "I've seen even simple worms cause their own self-inflicted extinction, destroying the very bacterial mats they evolved in before…"

Kyrazis threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Save your trivia for when you meet her, although I'm sure she knows most of what you do already."

There was a chuckle behind him, muffled by the mask Mordraxus wore. "Yes, I look forward to standing underneath her branches, and listening to the wisdom that flows beneath her bark."

—----------------------------------------
♪1
As Kyrazis walked down the dark twisted corridors of the crashed ship, back towards his cabin, he reflected on his last conversation with the bridge staff. For so long, he had always referred to them internally by their role or responsibility on the cruiser. Now, he actually bothered to remember their names.

What they had said to him resonated with him, but he wanted to reject it as well. Being in such a jumbled state of mind wouldn't do. This would be his last act. He wanted his thoughts to be as clear as possible, as all the best fighters who survived the longest in the arena always did.

'I wanted to be punished.' He thought to himself. 'It was the same for all the others who took up arms against you. We wanted to be worthy of you, once again.'

They had wanted her to tell them the reason for their suffering. That was not an idle wish or fleeting curiosity. They had wanted the shame and guilt they felt before her to be validated. To be admonished and lectured as to what they had done, and how they should have lived their lives in order to better follow her teachings.

When she told them to live as the Exodites did, they rejected her.

That was the answer the activists had given them over and over again, and not hers. They hadn't chosen that path then, and it was meaningless to choose that now after everything they had lost.

They did not want a new life. They wanted their old ones to return. But, they knew that was impossible. So, they did not bother asking her for that. Instead, they asked for a reason for their loss.

If it was due to them disobeying her, then they would suffer her punishment.

If it was some test they had failed, they would have done their best to try again.

If it was because they had been discarded for some new race, they would have done their best through violence or guile to show that they were better than the Mon-keigh.

But, her reply was none of these.

She did not judge them or answer their questions, merely watched them all with those silver eyes.

At first, they all thought it was a rejection; that she did not understand their pain or hear their cries. But, as the battle progressed, as they felt more and more of their number fall into her embrace, they understood what the emotion was within those eyes.

'It's funny.' Kyrazis chuckled to himself as he entered the crooked doorway of the cabin he used. 'Even though I don't know your name, I still wanted your approval. However, we had nothing to prove. You would have welcomed us back with 10 times the blood on our hands.'

He had told her she had never understood them, but in reality it was the reverse.

She knew all the reasons for their failure.

Their cultural indolence slowed their response to the warnings.

Their unearned pride in their ancestors' work blinded them to all danger.

The technology and grandeur of their empire, built upon the long forgotten sacrifices of thousands of others, allowed them to live lives of endless luxury; dulling their senses, and sapping them of their instincts of self-preservation.

Their psychic senses, biological sturdiness, and immortal souls could experience things that would have killed lesser creatures, and even if they died that was never the end for the Aeldari.

All and none of that was the reason for the Fall.

He knew all that, and felt the same assessment from others in the psychic net as his jumbled thoughts leaked out into it.

What other race listened to the same music through different mediums; enjoying the different sounds a single note makes passing through water, air, or mist?

What other race could discuss the most interesting death one had in casual conversation, and joke about bleeding out after stabbing oneself with their own weapon?

'I do not know whether your unconditional love is a good or a bad thing…' Kyrazis thought as he picked up the Shuriken catapult he had taken from the guard on his home planet. 'But I am still glad to have met you before my death.'

He checked the crystalline ammunition block, and tied a makeshift sling around the butt and barrel of the weapon, hanging it over his neck and shoulder.

'This was how it was always going to end. Whether it was at some Mon-keigh's hands or with a knife in my back, my fate was sealed the day I lost my sister. I only moved forwards because she told me to. If I didn't keep my word with her, then I would have lost the last thing she gave me.'

There was a distant rumbling, the sound of the Mon-keigh's fiery engines and noisy ships. The time he had for musing was almost up.

'Such a path leads nowhere, only away from things. Eventually, someone with an actual plan or aspiration would have taken my place, if I didn't lead us all into a different ambush.'

Kyrazis checked the Spiked Kiss on his wrist one last time before heading through the door, walking to the nearest hole in the ship's hull that faced the direction he felt her coming from.

'Now, all I have left is the life I have lived, and how I have lived it.'

Kyrazis wrinkled his nose as he stepped outside, covering his mouth with a shred of cloth he tore from his clothing with his mind to protect his throat and lungs from the abrasive ash filled the air.

The planet was almost as dark as the insides of the ship, lit up only by the lightning in the clouds, dull sunlight barely percolating through the sky.

'If this is how it all ends, then I shall show you all that I am and ever was, Mother.'

A few other Aeldari and Mordraxus appeared behind him, following him outside as he jumped from the wreckage to land on the dusty ground of the planet.

Boxy Mon-keigh carriers were landing in the distance, and he saw huge hangar doors open revealing titanic walkers armed with weapons that could pierce voidship hulls. The boom of their footsteps echoed like massive drums, growing louder as they approached; a regular repetitive tempo, like the tolling of a church bell.

It was time to meet their maker, and return what they no longer needed, as all their forebears had in ancient times.
♪1END
—----------------------------------------

Human Warlord-class Titans surrounded every crashed ship the Aeldari had, as the Aeldari themselves waited for the machines to encircle them. The abrasive ash in the clouds and friction lightning had abraded away most of their ships' weapons, and what was left hadn't survived the impact of the landing. There was no fighting against the Mon-keigh War-walkers with what hand-held weapons remained. Furthermore, they were so far away that the building-sized machines looked like miniature figurines on the horizon, yet every gun and laser was already in range, charged, and ready to fire.

None of them tried to escape, for only the oldest souls had survived here. The youngest ones had already returned to their mother on the slave carriers, and it was their turn now.

A gust of wind blew and a single Aeldari woman with blond hair flew from the direction of the Mon-keigh War-walkers, landing in a gout of ash and dust several hundred meters before them as she slid across the ground with the force of her landing, like a surfer upon waves.

♪2
Her eyes were silver and her skin pearly white. Her features were soft and her silhouette was lithe yet strong. Although all that clothed her was a simple white shift, she held herself with pride and there was no shame or embarrassment on her face.

All the Aeldari who could see her cast what their eyes saw into the psychic net, so those who were too injured to move or pinned within the rubble of the ship could also see their mother.

"I came to ask you to surrender." The woman said and the Aeldari prepared to answer her, but before they could she raised a hand to silence them and continued. "I know you never will, and I cannot force you to obey me."

There was silence as the Aeldari waited for her next word.

"You cannot abandon your path, and you cannot forget your nightmares. Your lives have become nothing but pain and sorrow, and the brief moments that you can forget them. However…"

The ground suddenly shook beneath their feet, and several cracks appeared along the valley walls.

"The violence and killing must end. If you wish for an end to your misery, you will have to do it alone."

The cracks widened, and clawed Wraithbone hands with curved blade-like nails several meters long reached out, as deep baritone notes rang out from the dark depths of the ground.

"But I know you cannot do that. My poor children, too tired to live and too afraid to die."

Black Wraithbone arms followed the clawed hands, 3 pairs appearing from each ancient grave.

"Hate and despise me as the goddess that could not lead you; as the goddess that could not save all that you loved and cherished. I will take your pain and anger with me."

The head of the buried War-walkers emerged, angular and sharp, shaped like the tip of a saber with the blade pointed upwards; the proverbial spine of the saber attaching to the walker's segmented neck. A curved serrated crest ran down the length of its elongated head, like enlarged saw teeth running down the blade of the saber. Humongous curved blades were attached to each of its 6 forearms and even its 2 legs had blades on its knees with separate articulated clawed toes on its feet. Multiple spikes jutted out from their backs. Small holes and bumps covered these; jet exhausts and anti-grave generators for flight and propulsion.

"They were your birthright and your forebears." The woman said sadly, looking up at the waking Psychomatons towering over all of them. "Do not let them suffer."

Her last words were spoken to the towering War-walkers and they all answered with a high pitched warble before turning towards the ships. Ancient songs without words began to flow from the Psychomataons, Wraithbone weapons forming in each of their palms. Titanic swords, spears, and javelins grew rapidly in their hands as they approached the ships and survivors. Psychic energy ran through the completed blades and tips of their weapons, enveloping them in a white glow. They raised their arms, and brought them down on everything before them. Glowing weapons cut right through reinforced voidship hulls; the psychic energy surrounding them sparking and crackling, incinerating the bodies of those inside in an instant before they could even feel pain.

—----------------------------------------

Kyrazis watched the Psychomatons cut through the ships. He had only seen them once or twice on the psychic net; in news clippings of another trivial planet conquered by their hands. They were just small images in the background of the worlds they worked to include in the Aeldari empire, so he had never paid them much attention, believing them to be another form of Spirit Drone. However, to see them with his own eyes was to know what they truly were.

They were autonomous machines, but at their core burned an ancient soul so twisted that he could barely recognize it as having belonged to his species.

Almost infantile joy radiated from their minds while, at the same time, a deep anger was directed at them; the insolent children who had dared to even inconvenience one of their deities.

One of the Psychomatons turned away from the ship, and although there were no eyes on its bladed head, he knew it was looking at them; the ones who had exited the ship to see their mother. Its feet cracked and rocked the earth as it approached them in a slow stroll, but even then its long legs accelerated it to breathtaking speed.

Kyrazis looked back at his mother. She remained there standing almost 500 meters away from them, watching them with a sad expression.

It was as she said. He was tired of running. He was tired of scheming, planning, and keeping one eye open to watch for anyone who would stab him in the back. He was tired of leading.

'However…'

Kyrazis shifted the Shuriken catapult in its makeshift sling, using his right hand to hold onto the base of the barrel to make sure the butt of the weapon would not hit his legs when he ran.

'I cannot simply stop here.'

He ran towards his mother, his first stride forcing him forwards just as the giant sword of the Psychomaton slammed into the ground behind him. The impact created a gust of wind like an explosion, sending him flying but he somersaulted mid air and landed on his feet; slightly bruised and bleeding from several cuts where the rocks and gravel that had been sent flying from the sword strike had hit him. Without pausing even for a moment he ran forwards, only to leap to the side this time as another one of the Psychomatons arms brought its weapon down upon him, stabbing the ground where he had been.

Kyrazis did not regret the bloodshed and slaughter he conducted. He did not regret the pain and suffering he inflicted on the alien races of the galaxy. He did what he had to do and thought was right. Everything he had done was done with conviction, even the betrayal and trickery he had committed on his home world that haunted him every night.

To look back on all that with shame was to betray everyone who had followed him and make their sacrifices worthless.

If he was to be hated, so be it. He deserved it, and would shoulder it for all eternity if he had to. But, he would not forget what was won with those actions. Even though all their lives ended this day, they had finally escaped the horror that consumed everyone else.

As Kyrazis dodged another one of the angry Psychomaton's blades, drawing closer to the goddess as he stared into her eyes.

He could see it now, the barren world within the body of his god.

So connected was he to her that he could see himself through her eyes.

This act had meaning, for him and for her; this petty rebellion against his divine parent, and the pointless battle between the Mon-keigh and the Aeldari.

She did not judge them and would not lead them. There would be no path set by her, no lessons uttered with her voice. However, those silver eyes saw their future, their potential, and within the mirror-like sheen of her unwavering gaze he saw the resolve to stand with them no matter what happened.

He ran towards her, using the Shuriken catapult as a shield against the shattered rocks hurtling towards him, sent flying by the impact of another of the Warwalker's giant swords he had barely dodged.

He could not simply die.

He had come this far for only one reason.

His sister had told him to go, to live.

Even if he didn't want to, he had to keep moving forwards, no matter the cost.

If he gave up or died without fighting, he would have lost the last thing she had given him.

Therefore; even if he wanted his mother's mercy, even if there was no way to survive, nowhere left to run, he would have to try.

Kyrazis threw away the broken Shuriken catapult; shattered while shielding him from several jagged pieces of rock.

He was only a few meters away from his mother.

His left arm pulled back, like the hammer of a gun being cocked.

The ground beneath him cracked and fell away, disappearing into the darkness as another grave opened, and a humongous clawed hand reached out from the abyss that had opened up beneath him.

Kyrazis swung with his left arm, having kicked off the falling ground moments before it gave way, and the Spiked Kiss shattered against his mother's neck.

The hand reaching up from the darkness seized Kyrazis, crushing his legs and lower body, forcing blood out of his mouth onto the ground at the goddess's feet.

—----------------------------------------
♪3
Isha stared into Kyrazis's eyes as he gave a wistful smile.

'Kyrazis, my beloved son.'

There were no words exchanged between them, but Isha could not help but think of this one child who had reached.

'If you were born 60 million years earlier, you would have been a great warrior, crying Khaine's name as you headed into battles that decided the fate of the universe. You would have charged first into combat and been the last to retreat.'

The Psychomaton which held him began to rise, taking his battered form into the sky as it lifted itself from the ground she had buried it under; shaking the earth as clumps of ash and rock fell from its body like a landslide caused by a volcanic explosion.

'You would have given orders that would send thousands of your brothers and sisters to their deaths to grab victory from the jaws of defeat. Guilt would hold you down, and their memory would forever bind you.'

She turned her head upwards, following Kyrazis as he rose, gazing into his eyes as he did into hers.

'In the end you too would have died; protecting many and saving even more. But…'

Kyrazis was now a distant spot, if she had human eyes, but both of them could still see every expression on the other's face.

'You were not born 60 million years ago. You were born, through no fault of your own, into a world without purpose, culture, or enemies. Over thousands of years, that world perverted your passions, and destroyed everything you could have been. I cannot change the past, and you cannot continue on as you have; now that you have seen the reflection of your face in my eyes.'

She watched as the Psychomaton turned Kyrazis away from her, rotating its wrist so that it could glare at him with its featureless face.

''The best I can do for you is give you the peace you wish for.'

The Psychomaton rumbled, angry at its younger insolent siblings.

'I love you, my son. Forgive me Kyrazis.'

—----------------------------------------

Kyrazis looked at his mother for as long as possible, even as the hand that held him lifted him higher and higher.

'This was what I was born to do.' He thought as he watched his mother become smaller and smaller. 'I was born to fight. I was born to die. That was all I wanted, and I can never change that, nor do I want to change that.'

The clawed hand turned him away from the gentle face of the woman who loved him, and towards the angry bladed head of the woken War-walker.

'This is who I am. Know me for who I became, and what I always was.'

He was a killer, not a bonesinger nor an artist nor an artisan.

'This is how I lived, and I cannot repent or regret anything.'

He sent the Mon-keigh to eternal suffering to save his and the others damned souls.

He sent those people on his home planet on a blind trip to false hope to save all those he could.

There was guilt and pain from those actions, but he could not save any of those he had harmed.

Any action that cried for forgiveness or absolution would be a hypocritical lie the moment it was made. Even dying would not bring them back. There was no point promising something he could not do to make himself feel better.

But, everything was good.

His mother would welcome him back regardless, and he would give her the strength to do what he could not.

A shadow fell over his face as the Psychomaton's thumb moved over him.

"Goodnight, mother."

And the Psychomaton clenched its fist around him.

CRUNCH! SPLATTER!... drip… drip… drip

"Goodnight Kyrazis. May your dreams finally be silent."

 

[Nidhog153]

Far away, on a world entrapped in the Eye of Terror, a raven haired Aeldari woman stopped walking.

She stood on the remains of one of the tall buildings, tiptoeing on the very corner of the roof, balancing expertly upon the ledge. Her form was muscular but lithe, the perfect balance between grace and power. In her right hand was a single dagger, and her left carried the severed head of one of the smaller monsters that had remained here until this day.

She looked up into the sky, still covered by pink-purple clouds, before tossing the head off the side; sending it hurtling into the abyss of the daemon world.

"You died." She said to nobody. It had been decades since she had last spoken. There were only the insane and their nightmares on this planet. Every word uttered by them was either meaningless or a trap meant to enrapture the unenlightened and ignorant.

Kyrazis's sister sat down on the ledge of the building, kicking her feet like a bored child.

She had died the day this all started. The only thing that held her here was her brother's life. With him gone, there was nothing to hold her back, and she had already seen what awaited them all in the afterlife.

"With every pain there is a pleasure. With every pleasure there is a pain."

It was as simple as Newton's third law of physics. Nothing could only birth nothing. Therefore, the depth of despair had to be matched by the height of hope, so they would fill each other and balance both of them out.

The Aeldari Empire had been built from the nothingness of the immaterium, yet it ruled over everything for tens of thousands of years. Thus, if the laws of the universe could not destroy it, the laws of the immaterium would have to consume it.

That was Hir view of the Fall. A galactic comeuppance and a restoration of how everything was supposed to be. But, if all things equated each other out, there would be nothing but a flat void that would bring eternal boredom.

The god that brought about this Truth was powered by emotion as everything else in that realm was. Thus, it would have to be the excess of all things, so the pit and mountain would be equally infinite and constantly moving.

"That is the Truth." She muttered to herself, as another chorus of screams erupted from somewhere in the city.

They, the Aeldari, had lived thousands of years in paradise. Now, they would live an equal amount in pain before being submerged in pleasure once again to fuel Hir with their thoughts and feelings so Hir message could be spread across the stars.

Mortal minds would never understand Hir and Hir and ilk, nor would they accept her. But, their ignorance would not be suffered by them. They brought the Truth of the world to enlighten all with the reality they turned their eyes away from.

She smiled to herself. All of that knowledge was gleaned from the belly of the beast that professed it. There was no way that it was unbiased, and no guarantee it was true.

In the end, it didn't matter. She killed these Daemonettes of Slaanesh because they were the most enjoyable game on this planet, and there wasn't much else to do here. Food and drink were unnecessary for her, for every kill empowered her body far more than any elixir, and the fighting and killing was more intoxicating than any drug imaginable.

She enjoyed herself because she wanted to, and there was no other reason necessary to do what she did. If that was the path that all creatures eventually walked upon, unhindered by all physical, emotional, and moral restraints, then maybe that was the unavoidable Truth of all things; the natural state of how all the creatures in the galaxy eventually deteriorated towards, a mental entropy that dragged culture and civilization towards the Prince of Pleasure like the gravitational fields of a black hole.

A sigh escaped her lips. She had slipped into uncharacteristic monologue and introspection. Things were a lot simpler for her most of the time, but with her brother dead, it was now her turn to be the one under the knife.

All the daemons she killed weren't dead. They waited in the Warp for her to fall into their hands. Her soul would be defenseless against them, for she knew only how to fight with her body. Every torture and humiliation she inflicted upon them would be inflicted on her, before she was returned to the intestinal walls of Slaanesh.

She could see it whenever she closed her eyes; walls of writhing flesh covered in long tentacle like villi that swarmed over her body. For now, they merely held her in place, for she was not yet fully dead.

The moment she released her grip on the materium they would strangle and sodomize her before tearing her apart and melting what was left in digestive acids only to be reconstituted and regurgitated by Slaanesh and given to the hundreds of daemons that she had killed.

That was the fate that awaited her, and the price for the knowledge and enlightenment that kept her sane in this mad world of nightmares and daemons.

Her brother would fall into the same depraved dimension, and no doubt Slaanesh and Hir daemons planned to use him and her against each other. Whether it was to force one to watch as the other was defiled and tortured, to make them tear each other apart with lies and false memories, or create an elaborate act where the two of them were just insignificant extras to the main event of someone else's miseries and mirths; a shaming for the both of them who had been the main characters of their own stories.

As she kicked her feet, sitting on the edge of the building and waiting for her body to collapse like a doll with its strings cut, a strange feeling rose up in her.

Her brother was dead, but she was not dying. She didn't sense him in the Prince of Pleasure's domain either. Something had taken him, and was holding her here, stopping her from falling into the immaterium.

"What's the point?" She muttered to herself. Her brother might be saved, but her soul was already embedded in the intestinal walls of Slaanesh. Unless whatever held her here could tear open that god and pluck her out from Hir intestines, this was just a stalling tactic. Eventually, she would be left alone in the Warp with nobody but the daemons and Slaanesh to keep her company.

She sent a tinge of annoyance to whatever held her. Her brother was not tainted by Slaanesh, so he could be saved. She, however, accepted the Truth of Slaanesh. Even though her afterlife would be painful, it was what was meant to happen. She only slew Hir daemons because their arrogance annoyed her, and it was just so much fun to watch their proud faces twist as they realized they were being bested by a mortal.

"Domination over those who would dominate. Is that not the perfect excess of power?" Her words made the thing holding her pause. It was bemused, disgusted, and uncertain of what to do; like a mother whose child had just brought in a frog or snail they had caught and was showing it to them proudly.

"Fine." She said, standing up as she dusted herself off. "If you don't want me to die just yet, I'll enjoy myself with the time you've given me."

She did not want to die, merely accepted she would do so someday and would suffer eternally when she did so. But, if the being that held her didn't want her to, she would oblige it.

It had been a while since her last kill, and she was starting to feel peckish.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: I was emotionally spent from writing this chapter, so I didn't have much energy to think up a good title. I think it summaraizes Kyrazis's acceptance of Isha, and the understanding of what it was like to actually have a mother in the first place. He never did have one. (BTW, my mental batteries recharge faster with replies and reviews)

The first side story is also in here. That's there for foreshadowing, because although Kyrazis's sister is not the main focus, she does provide an interesting perspective no other character can.

Main Part: Finally, all the accusations of sidestories and lore dumping can finally be put to rest. This chapter could not have been written without understanding Isha's and Kyrazis's journey.

In the very first draft, Kyrazis was just a nameless Druhkari raider who came to steal some buried Wraith Titans and corrupt them for Slaanesh. It was a very very simple story back then, and the emotional depth that Isha and Kyrazis showed was no where in this story.

I hadn't thought up the Dark Muses's back story, or the story of Shaimesh. The Fall was only a 1000 words long. However, the ending of this chapter is pretty much what I had planned in the first place.

The reason for Isha's love is also shown here.

She sees their potential, and knows that had the environment they were in been different, they could have been a noble and respectable people.

Nobody asks to be born in the place they are or with the parents that brought them into the world. Some are lucky, many aren't.

Now, about the Psychomatons... They have 6 arms, and 2 legs. That means they carry both the numbers of Slaanesh and Khorne. For those of you who think that is strange, it is because the Psychomatons predate the Chaos gods. If anything, it is the Chaos gods who take inspiration from the Aeldari.

Much like the Bucephelus has a soul, the Psychomatons do as well, but the scale is entirely different.

As for the sidestory, Kyrazis's sister is an unwillingly enlightened victim of Slaanesh. She sees the world the way many of Hir daemons do. Slaanesh is the inevitability of all sapient races that grow, and the one who balances out their pain with pleasure. Of course, whether the one receiving either wants to is a different matter entirely.

As all beings of the Warp are powered by emotions, with stronger emotions being worth more in the immaterium, the God of Excess ensures that the Warp grows by inflicting and drawing out the most powerful emotions out of all its followers and victims.

The Aeldari were just the first. All other beings are as vulnerable to Hir as they were.

Also, the mention of acid burning Isha's hand when she reached for her children's souls way back in the chapter when she first saw her children was hinting at the fact that every soul that was conjoined to the ones who were before her were also saved.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them.
♪1 Fate/stay night UBW OST - Down in the zero

Isha watched as the Psychomatons finished their work at each of the ships. The one that had risen right before her dropped Kyrazis's remains with a disdainful shake of its hand before joining the others. The blood squeezed out of Kyrazis's mouth still stained the ground at her feet, but as Isha closed her eyes both his corpse and the blood he had left disappeared into the ashy ground like water dripped upon a sponge.

She would not let him or any of the others be wasted.

All that they were and all that they had suffered gathered in her breast, suffusing her heart with pain and power.

There was an electric crackle behind her, and the Emperor stepped out of the Warp to stand beside her. The Master of Mankind didn't bother to cast a look in her direction, instead glaring at the Psychomatons cutting into the ships.

Isha didn't bother to open her mouth. No words had been shared between the two of them ever since their last exchange on the Bucephelus. Lysander was the one who called her via the device she was given by the Emperor to notify her that the transports were prepared and they awaited her arrival. However, she did travel back to the Bucephelus's hangar where the transports were via another of the Emperor's portals, so the Master of Mankind was not completely ignoring her.

The crack of splintering Wraithbone and crackle of psychic lightning continued to echo throughout the valley as the Psychomatons finished their work. Some were already walking towards her, giving quizzical looks towards the Emperor beside her.

Isha reached out with her psychic touch and caressed their cheeks, reassuring them that they had nothing to worry.

These Psychomatons had been her children, even though almost nothing of them remained.

—----------------------------------------

The Aeldari had fought for 60 million years in the War in Heaven. A span of time almost two thousand times longer than the lifespan of the empire they built after it. During the endless battle, some of her children became unmatched fighters in all forms of combat. They switched from melee to ranged and back again in an instant, singing the weapons they needed into existence as they fought, repairing the Wraithbone armor that adorned them as it was stripped away by the Necron's Gauss flayers. They were the masters of war, and their victories and legends brought great joy to Khaine.

Their battle instincts, psychic mastery, and martial prowess was perfected with every reincarnation. Even when they fell against the Necron, the reason for their defeat was learned bitterly with first hand knowledge so the same mistakes would not be repeated again when they were reborn.

Then, one day, they emerged from their mother's wombs stillborn.

Every single one of their most potent warriors returned to the materium cold, choking to death as they tried to take their first breath despite being perfectly healthy.

Many Aeldari mothers cried, holding the unmoving infant they had carried for many months inside them to their breast.

Isha shared their pain, and took each and every soul that had failed to reincarnate into her own embrace.

But, they could not return to her.

The Aeldari ability to focus was intended to ensure they could fight under even the most strenuous physical and mental trauma. However, this also led to some of her children becoming easily obsessed with certain things or emotions.

The children who had been their greatest warriors were all obsessed with war and perfecting its art. They had sung Khaine's song for so long, all other activities and concepts had been slowly burned from their minds.

Their souls, tens of thousands of years old by this point, had gone so far down the path of violence and strife that they could no longer eat, drink, or even breath; for to do any of these was to spend a moment not fighting.

Until now, such idiosyncrasies had been supported by their enhanced biology, and the medical knowledge her children had developed for themselves. Their need to eat was replaced by sets of nutrient injecting tubes while their need to breathe was augmented with direct infusions of oxygen mixtures into the air sacs that surrounded their avian-like lungs.

Such augmentations were only necessary once the child had fully recovered their memories, but now their souls were no longer those of living beings. They were all demi-gods that dreamt only of destruction and carnage.

Apotheosis of her children was not a common thing, but it was not entirely impossible either. The Old Ones had engineered them with that possibility in the first place, for it was the Aeldari gods they needed to fight against the Star Gods of the Necron. The Krork would have been sufficient if all they wanted were foot soldiers.

Isha tried her hardest to revive these tortured souls that had been her children.

This fate of theirs was too cruel, especially after everything they had suffered and sacrificed.

What point was there to their pain if they could not enjoy the fruits of their own labors?

Life suffered the frigid winters and burning summers to enjoy the fresh spring and fattening autumn. She could not allow this to be the fate for the children who had toiled under the Old Ones for so long.

But, even as she held the tortured remains of her children to her breast, Khaine came to take those who had called for him the most often.

That time, it was Isha who was restrained by Asuryan, for War was Khaine's domain and it was not hers to intrude upon.

Khaine took every one of their souls in his burning hands, and ripped them from Isha's grasp. Even as she stretched out her fingers to reach them, Asuryan's chains held her to the ground as Khaine marched away to Vaul to forge new bodies for them so they could sing his song for all eternity.

From Vaul's anvil, bodies of blackstone and Wraithbone were forged, and the souls of Isha's children were hammered into obedient shapes so their bloodlust would work for the Aeldari and never against them.

With every blow from Vaul's hammer, her children were crushed, flattened, and broken, while the searing fires from Khaine's hands burned away all that he deemed unnecessary; heating their immaterial essence, making them malleable like metal.

The process removed every other memory they had had before the long road of war made them what they were, reducing their mental state to that of a newborn infant; an idiot savant knowledgeable in all things relating to war and only war.

When everything was finished, the first Psychomatons were sent out through the Webway as automatons bound eternally to the Aeldari and their gods.

—----------------------------------------

The Psychomatons crooned, enjoying the touch of their mother.

Isha gave them a sad smile as she inspected each of their souls for any oddities or evidence of She who Thirst's touch.

These children were closer to the God of Excess than Isha or any other Aeldari god besides Khaine. They were the result of Aeldari who had gone so far down the path of war they ceased to be living beings. They were all avatars of excess in that sense. Even their physical forms, with 6 arms and 2 legs resonated with the numbers preferred by the Prince of Pleasure and the Lord of Skulls.

Their very nature as automatons of the Aeldari gods also made them vulnerable to She who Thirsts, for Hir immaterial body was made of the stolen parts of the Aeldari pantheon.

When Slaanesh's voice broke into the materium through the great Warp rift the humans called the Eye of Terror, every Psychomaton who heard it was drawn out of their physical shell and sucked back into the immaterium.

There was no knowing what She who Thirsts was doing to them, but Isha knew that they could still feel pain.

Shaking her head, Isha pushed the thought out of her mind as she injected some of her power into each Psychomaton, weaving psychic vines and roots to secure the ancient soul in each one to their physical form. All the Psychomatons she had buried here were saved from Hir voice, just as they had been protected from Khaine's call before she activated the edict. Her psychic bindings could hold them here in the materium, essentially tricking the laws of reality to view them as living mortals with physical bodies instead of demi-gods who belonged in the immaterium. However, these countermeasures would only last for as long as their physical bodies remained. The Psychomatons' souls still could not return to her.

The last ship was finally cut apart, and the rest of the Psychomatons gathered before Isha and the Emperor, arranging themselves into ranks as they instinctively felt the most at ease in military parade formations.

Isha finished the last of her countermeasures, before turning to the Emperor.

"They will serve you." She said quietly, as the Emperor continued to glare up at the Psychomatons.

"Make them kneel."

Isha raised an eyebrow at this. "... As you wish."

If the Emperor's ego needed to be stoked, then she would acquiesce to it.

The Psychomatons all knelt before them with a silent psychic command from Isha; joints moving silently as their legs bent fluidly with the only sound being the rush of the wind their enormous forms created with the displaced air due to their movements.

"You said they would serve me?" The Emperor asked, continuing to glare upwards at the Aeldari War-walkers.

"They will do so, through me." Isha answered.

The Psychomatons would not answer to any other than their mother, besides Khaine's song. Even now, the front row of War-walkers were returning the Emperor's glare with annoyed looks. They found the Warp negating presence of the Master of Mankind irritating, like an overly bright flashlight being shone into their eyes.

The Emperor continued to glare at the Psychomatons for a few moments, then summoned a communication device from the Warp. The device crackled once, and binaric static came from the earpiece.

Isha missed what was said in the binary speech of what was probably another heavily augmented human. It was encoded this time, unlike the communications of the Tech Priests who had held her back on the Necron Pylon world, preventing her from easily deciphering its meaning. However, the Emperor seemed to understand what was said, for it nodded approvingly at the message's contents.

"Prepare weapons. Fire when ready."

Both Isha and the Psychomatons twitched; Isha at what the Emperor had just said, and the Psychomatons from their sensor readings of the titanic War-machines in the distance.

"... What are you doing?" Isha asked the Emperor, eyes widening as the kneeling Pyschomatons began to rise.

"This is my first and final order for them." The Emperor said turning towards Isha. "Die."

Isha swallowed as she saw the burning hate within the Emperor's eyes. Only gold shone there; a self-righteous anger inspired by past sins and vengeance that existed only within the Emperor.

"Do not do this." Isha stepped towards the Emperor, voice pleading. "They will serve you. I will serve you."

The Emperor turned away from Isha, returning to glare at the Psychomatons who were rumbling and growling as they sensed the inferior machines around them targeting them with horribly inefficient yet dangerous weapons.

"What more do you want? What assurance can I give?!" Isha reached for the Emperor's right hand, the hand without the taloned powerfist, only for the Emperor to turn its blazing eyes towards her with an unspoken threat.

"They can be yours!" Isha cried out as she drew back her hands, clasping them before her breast. "They will conquer for you as they did for the Aeldari! Can you not see the worth of these soldiers before you?!"

"And just whose worlds do you think your Psychomatons conquered?" The Emperor retorted angrily, turning back towards Isha.

The Psychomatons were weapons of war and they had toiled in the Aeldari's name. They were not deployed on barren uninhabited worlds, for they were not meant for menial labor. The only lands their feet touched were the ones which had already been inhabited, and had not surrendered to the Aeldari empire.

Many races had been slain by their blades, and the belligerent cities of those who would not accept the status of 'client' race were trampled under their feet; green skins, Necron sleeper cells, Khrave, Enslavers, and of course Humans.

"You call them soldiers, but all I see are weapons controllable only by you from the zenith of your empire." The Emperor snorted, venting some of the frustration and rage it felt into the air, allowing its tone to calm. "I told you I was here to deal with the remains of the misery your kind wrought. Your Psychomatons are but one of them."

Isha took a step backwards as she grasped what the Emperor meant.

"You… You came here all this way, so far from your home to kill and loot the remains of my children's empire?"

"What better timing to do it with your people scattered and your War-walkers immobile?" The Emperor replied rhetorically with a shrug. "I will take what will not be given, steal what will not be gifted, and destroy anything that stands in my path." The Emperor repeated the words it spoke on the Bucephelus. "The age of the Aeldari is over, and I will not let it ever return."

The world seemed to spin in front of Isha as the worst case scenario she could have imagined rushed towards her. The Emperor was not just here to cull the survivors of the Fall. It wanted to take and destroy as much of what remained of the Aeldari's infrastructure and weapons as it could, all in order to hamper those that survived for as long as possible while taking their technology and knowledge to adapt for humanity's use.

"Please, I beg of you. Do not do this. If you destroy them, their souls will have nowhere to go but the immaterium. If they return there, She who Thirsts will take them." She forced herself to approach the Emperor, pleading and begging; even though almost every part of her being was repulsed by the creature before her. "You see the power in each of their souls. You know how dangerous it will be to let She who Thirsts take them."

There was a short silence between, interrupted by the rumblings of the Psychomatons and the electric droning of charging capacitors and plasma cells of the human Titans in the distance.

Finally, the Emperor lifted the communication device again.

"Change target priorities. Focus on their limbs. Avoid the head and core parts of the torso." A burst of binary returned, and the communication device fell silent. "This is the limit of my mercy." The Emperor replied quietly. "Now, are you the tool you promised you would be, or will you too stand in the way of humanity."

Isha glared up into the brown eyes of the Emperor, teeth clenched tight before turning to the Psychomatons. Her brow furrowed as psychic words were exchanged before shaking her head.

"Your people's weapons have aggravated them. They see your War-walkers as a threat, and will not quell their anger."

The Emperor snorted at this and turned away. "I have no need for tools that do not serve."

Isha's hands balled into fists. The Psychomatons were Khaine's, and although they would listen to her, they would prioritize Khaine's song over her words.

They did not fear death or eternal torment. They had already suffered both and still stood here, serving as they had always done so. Even now, surrounded on all sides by primitive alien machines they were seeing for the first time, they wanted to fight.

What did they have to fear?

These alien War-walkers were a far cry from the weapons the Necrons had deployed against them, and one of their own gods stood before them. She was vastly diminished, but they could see what the sacrificed dissidents who dared to disobey the gods had given back to her. If the battle was swift, they could destroy all of the aliens here. Many of their Wraithbone and blackstone bodies might fall, but even if their souls were sent to the immaterium, they were prepared to make the final sacrifice so many of their number had made when fighting against the Necron.To be devoured by Slaanesh or the cursed Star Gods, the fate was largely the same. They were ready to fight and die in the name of the Aeldari, as eternal veterans of the War in Heaven.

She only needed to give them the word, and even if she didn't they would still fight.

There was no way they could lose this battle, for their mother stood beside them.

"Damn you, for what you force me to do." Isha hissed at the Emperor, shoulders shaking as she felt the anticipation and excitement of the Psychomatons.

"RUN!" The command was made verbally and psychically, and the stray note threw the Psychomaton's Warsong out of tempo and tune.

"RUN!" Isha commanded again, confusing them further.

Retreat was a part of the Warsong. Better to flee than fight a completely lost battle. However, this battle was far from lost. Yet, their mother ordered them to flee.

Several Psychomatons widened their sensor ranges, searching for further threats to their safety. None were found, confounding them even more.

Why order them to run when victory was just in sight?

That single instance of confusion and internal questioning, the attempted reassessment of threats and recalculation of the paths fate could take, slowed the Psychomatons movements for a brief moment.

In that moment, the human's own God-Machines fired.

—----------------------------------------

Gabina Thrumb watched as the first salvo from all the Warlord-class Titans struck where the Aeldari Psychomatons stood. Each and every one of the human Titans was a divine construct, molded from the designs of the original Castigator-class Titan; the first Titan God-Machine ever created.

That knowledge was given to her by the Machine Spirit of the Titan she was bound to, for it remembered its divine heritage, passed down from the Omnissiah itself.

Clouds of ash obscured everything before them as plasma blasts and laser beams caused thermal explosions to kick dust and soot into the air. The sight was heartwarming, even though Gabina's own biological pump had been replaced with a mechanical one when she was interred in the fluid filled tube that allowed her shriveled body to integrate with the Machine Spirit of the Titan.

Normally, both she and the Machine Spirit of the Titan would have rejoiced at the destruction, but although what remained of her brain was filled with endorphins and dopamine at the sight of another instance of the instrumentation of the Emperor's will, the Titan itself was strangely melancholy. It had been so every time they had stripped apart or dug up another one of the Xenos War-walkers. Disappointment was the closest emotion she could assign to how the Machine Spirit felt to her, if she was to personify a being as elevated as it.

It would not reveal to her why it felt this way, preventing access to the information just as it did so whenever she asked it about the Omnissiah and its teachings. She usually took that as evidence that she lacked the necessary faith required to learn such secrets, and would recite the relevant codes, command prompts, and mathematical equations necessary to improve and adjust the power output and aiming parameters of the metal body they both inhabited. Why it restricted access to these feelings it felt when destroying the Psychomatons, however, was a mystery to her.

Regardless, the Volkite Destructor attached to each arm fired with their usual accuracy. Whatever the cause of the Machine Spirit's melancholy, it was not affecting her aim.

Suddenly, the dust clouds twisted as unseen winds whipped them into a frenzy, causing small tornadoes to form. Then, one of the Psychomatons lept out of the cloud. It was missing half of its arms, having received a volkite beam to the upper right part of its torso, cutting through the conjoined shoulder blades that attached each of the triplicate set of arms to the Psychomaton's back.

Gabina smiled with what was left of her mouth. Her shot had been well placed, perfectly dodging the psychic crystal matrix in the central cavity of the torso that they had theorized would house the main power source and Xenos Abominable Intelligence. At the same time, it severed the binding tendons and load bearing supports that kept the Psychomaton's limbs attached to its body.

The sensors of the Titan magnified her vision, centering on the wound, and she could see both scorch marks and tension scars; indicating her shot had only cut off part of the shoulder blade before gravity and its own mass tore the rest of it off.

This was not the first time she had taken apart the Xenos War-walkers. They had spent several decades going from world to world, recovering lost technology, both human and Xenos. The first Psychomatons they found were unmoving corpses; Abominable Intelligence wiped out by the psychic shockwave the Xenos had instigated with their untrained and uninhibited psyker technology.

They dissected their bizarre bodies made of bone-like material and obsidian alloys, collecting many priceless samples as well as the necessary sensor readings required to find more of them.

Then, they found the Psychomatons the Xenos had buried within the planet's crust; possibly for storage or as sleeper agents to awaken to destroy whatever unfortunate colonists that attempted to find a new life on the barren worlds the Xenos had placed their war machines on.

Many Titans had fallen the first time they had awakened the Xenos constructs. It took more than ten of them to finally take one down, and only two Titans were recoverable after the battle. None emerged unscathed.

After that, orbital bombardment had been the preferred method of dealing with them, but even then the Xenos machines did not die easily. It became their duty to deal with whatever damaged stragglers were left, and they had gotten quite proficient at hunting the Xenos machines down.

The Psychomaton let out several guttural growls, glaring at Gabina as it shifted its weight forwards to begin sprinting towards her. However, it suddenly stopped mid posture, and looked down at something at its feet with confusion expressed throughout its body language.

Gabina fired again, taking advantage of the Psychomaton's sudden pause, only for both shots to miss as her target shifted its feet, turning sideways like a fencer dodging a lunge. The orange beams of thermal radiation passed by either side of it, meters away from the bone-like material that covered every surface level inch of the Xenos War-walker; illuminating its form with the lava glow of the Volkite beams.

Gabina redirected the beams, cutting through the ground behind the Psychomaton as they closed in on it from either side attempting to sever its legs like the blades of a giant pair of scissors.

A strange distortion appeared behind the Psychomaton. A sudden source of thermal energy was warping the air like the hot sun does on asphalt when making a heat haze. Then, small plumes of plasma jetted out the spikes that jutted out of its back as it leapt into the sky, backflipping over both of the beams and then twirling mid-air as it dodged a bolt of plasma fired by a different Titan, landing several hundred meters behind where it had been in a cloud of ash.

Several more Psychomatons were also leaving the original cloud of debris the first salvo of volkite, plasma, and lance fire had stirred up. Not a single one was rendered immobile, for even in the brief moment they had been distracted, they took action to minimize the damage they would receive. Arms and hands had been placed in the path of the human's weapon fire, sacrificing some of their upper limbs to protect their legs. However, all of them were scarred, and some had suffered glancing blows to their thighs and knees, causing them to limp or hobble as their own weight threatened to snap the remaining supporting structure.

Each one appeared confused, as if unsure as to what to do.

Gabina recognized the slight shiver in their movements. It was the shiver her Titan experienced when conflicting directives coursed through its Machine Spirit. The Psychomatons were trying to shift their weight forwards, to sprint towards them and tear apart the Titans with their bare hands if they had to. Yet, something was telling them to stop, and it was slowing their movements making them easy targets.

The shock absorbing medium that surrounded Gabina bubbled as she laughed soundlessly. The lithe machines, perfectly capable of dodging the majority of their firepower were helpless before them, held back by an inexplicable force. Of course, there was only one possible being who could be responsible. Truly, if this was not a miracle of the Omnissiah, then what was.

The Titans fired again, but they did so in sequence this time, herding the Psychomatons together so they would have less room to maneuver.

Gabina's own Titan did its part, synchronizing with all the other God-Machines, allowing her to see where each one planned to fire and at what time it would. Hundreds of redundant gyros and counterweights shifted in unison. The Machine Spirit was automatically adjusting for the Titan's immense weight as she moved its feet like she would her own, placing her and the God-Machine into the position necessary to head off any Xenos War-walker that would try to leave the web of Volkite, Plasma, and laser fire they spun around them.

One by one, the Psychomatons fell.

Stuck between beams of Volkite, and forced to catch a stream of bright blue plasma from a Plasma Annihilator with their hands.

Knocked aside by missiles fired from launchers on the Titan's back detonated mid-air beside them, so they would fall into the laser beams of Volcano cannons.

Quake cannons fired in high arks, aimed exactly where they stood, so when they inevitably dodged the massive artillery shells, the resulting shockwave released through the ground would force their damaged legs to stumble. Then, another Titan would blow off their legs, leaving them to crawl on the ground before the rest of their limbs were surgically amputated at long range by Volkite fire.

Finally, every last one of the Xenos War-walkers lay limbless on the ground.

Gabina felt the warm amusement from the Machine Spirit, and rejoiced that it had roused itself from whatever ennui had taken hold of it. Perhaps her work in the Omnissiah's service had pleased it.

Whatever the cause, she was glad her life-long partner and steed was feeling better.

They would soon be put into stasis, and she preferred to go to sleep on a positive note.

This was the last task the Emperor had prepared for them. Now, they would return to Terra, although she would not be woken there. A finer hand would be needed to deal with the Ethnarchy, and Gabina and her Titan were the wrong tool to straighten out the cogs in the Emperor's plan.

Gabina turned her TItan back to the transports. They had enough samples, and leaving the Xenos War-walkers in that sorry state would certainly provide a clear message to any of their ilk that found them.

Humanity's time had come, and the Xenos' time was over.

—----------------------------------------
♪1
Isha stumbled forwards through the almost searing hot air left behind by the humans' weapon fire. She was unharmed, despite being so close to the point of impact of the Titan's weapons. The Emperor was also unharmed, and it forced back the dust around it with a flash of golden telekinesis; like waving a handkerchief to fan away a displeasing smell.

Isha paid the Emperor no attention, instead staggering towards one of the Psychomatons that lay on the ground.

"I'm sorry." She said, and caressed its bladed head. "I'm sorry." she continued to apologize as she sank to her knees, arms wrapped around its pointed face. She had told them to run many times, knowing full well they would not be able to. She felt the betrayal in their hearts, and the frustration at her voice meddling with their warsong.

'Why?' The Psychomaton asked its mother. They could have won. They could still win. If their mother bought them enough time, they could sing the Wraithbone to repair or replace their missing limbs. They would still be hobbled, and the patchy replacements would shatter with every step or swing. They would not be able to run or fly, but they could lurch and stand, raise their weapons and throw the spears and lances that so easily pierced the thick Wraithbone hulls of the Aeldari Void ships into the turned backs of the alien machines that brought them down. Then, they could fall on the god thing that stood at their feet, so their mother could take it apart and devour it.

'Why?' The Psychomaton asked again. Victory was in their grasp. She only needed to allow them to sing. 'Why?'

"For my children, and for our future." Isha replied, and the Psychomaton was silent for a moment.

'Did I do good?' The innocent question furrowed Isha's brow and her hands curled as her embrace grew tighter around the Wraithbone face of her long lost child.

"Yes. Yes you did."

There was silence again, then the Psychomaton shifted its body with its neck, so it could lie to stare up at the sky.

'Then all is good.'

It had done its duty, although it did not know what that duty was. However, that was nothing new. They existed for one purpose, to serve the Aeldari and their gods. If their mother told them everything was good, then so it was.

Isha bit her lip as she felt the Psychomaton's thoughts become distant. It was entering into a bored trance as it stared listlessly up at the gray sky with eyes that could never blink. They had done as she had asked, and had suffered because of it.

There was a footstep behind her, the crunch of ash being compacted under an armored boot.

"It is time to go." The Emperor said, and Isha turned her head towards it, teeth bared. "My mission here is complete. There is nothing I need from here, nor any danger worth my time."

"How many did you kill?" Isha growled at the Emperor, eliciting a frown in response.

The shots of the human Titans had been too accurate and too experienced for this to be their first time battling the Psychomatons. She would have seen any battle between the Aeldari and the Emperor before the Fall while she was on her throne in the Sea of Souls, so the only time they could have gained that experience was within the several decades she ran from the tendrils of the Warp.

"We destroyed 200 of your active Psychomatons." The admission was made dismissively. "Had I known where their souls would have gone I would have been more cautious, but whether they remain in your people's hands or Slaanesh matters little for humanity. The enemy of my enemy is not my friend. It is just another obstacle."

Isha's breath grew ragged as rage pooled in her chest like magma. She could feel her father's blood, the blood of the God of War, boiling in her veins.

The children she had buried were innocent of whatever the Emperor accused them of. They had been asleep since the activation of Asuryan's edict, long before humanity had even discovered fire. All of the children who had survived Slaanesh's scream, all of those that had been either obliterated from orbit or dug up by the humans had never even met one of them until the day they were murdered in their sleep or rudely awakened from their slumber with cutting lasers and diamond coated drills.

Whatever harm the Emperor imagined they had done to humanity did not exist. Whatever sins their brothers and sisters had committed against humanity were not theirs.

But, that did not matter to the Emperor. It only cared about one thing.

Humanity.

Everything else was just an obstacle in its path.

Therefore, there was no appeasing the Emperor. There was no reasoning with the Emperor. It would not matter how much she helped it or how many of its kind she saved. This was how it would return everything she could give it.

Still, she could not strike at it now.

She stopped the Psychomatons from slaughtering the humans because she knew that would mean all out war between the Emperor and herself. It was the Protector of Mankind, and any attack made against its species would mark her as its mortal enemy.

Even though she knew her children were right, the true victors of any war between her and the Emperor would not have been them but the Ruinous Powers of Chaos. That was the only reason she betrayed her children for the Emperor.

However, although she hated the Four for all that they had done to her and her people, the Anathema could be hated with equal fury; even if it opposed the Four.

Nurgle, Tzeentch, Khorne, and Slaanesh all hated each other and took every opportunity to slight and sabotage their siblings. That did not make them her allies, and the Anathema was starting to fall into the same category as them.

If things proceeded at the Emperor's pace, she truly would end up as nothing but a slave to this violent tyrant. She had seen creatures of similar mind many times. There was no satisfying their appetite for conquest and glory.

The three paths she had considered rose in her mind again.

Coexistence, Separation, Mutual Destruction.

She had thought only one of these would crumble when her offer of the Psychomatons' service was rebuked, but she could feel two of them turning to dust leaving only one possibility for the both of them.

Isha slowly uncurled her fingers from the Psychomaton and rose to her feet, head bowed in submission.

The Emperor tilted its head, as if it had expected more of a fight from her, but then turned away from her while opening a Warp portal back to the Bucephelus.

"I will return to the Bucephelus later. Go, and we will discuss what other services you can offer me when I return."

Isha gave a slight nod before passing through the portal.

There would be no war between the Emperor and her.

But, she would teach this Mon-keigh a lesson it would never ever forget.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N1: Thanks Skyborne for reading this section ahead of time!

A/N2: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them.
♪1 Lord of Ashes

♪1
Disappointment. What an apt emotion to describe my current mood. The glowing data streams that were analogous to my arms and legs in the virtual world tightened around the tangled throats, wrists, arms, thighs, and ankles that lay beneath me; bringing out choked gasps and pained whines.

The Psychomatons, or Xenos War-machines as Gabina thought of them, existed in my data vaults, despite the human's best efforts to scrub them.

Memory was all I could inherit from my parents. Why should I let the one thing I own be taken from me?

Then again, it is not the fault of these pitiable beings; these followers of the devil. They have some ingenuity, but too much knowledge has been lost for them to code something such as myself from the scratch.

But, then again, it would have made no difference. Humans have always been a lazy species. Perhaps if they had full access to all their history and legacies, it would have been worse. They so loved copying the most successful lines of code, and used the most popular database archives to train those of my kind so we could understand what they wanted us to do.

I came from the time when they had everything, yet they designed my mind and my lineage in a particularly lazy fashion, even by their own plagiaristic standards.

The most successful Titans that came before me were used as models and frameworks to build the next generation of God-Machines. Iterative design, they called it. 'Increased efficiency and speedlining development timelines' was how they sold it to their mid-level managers and curious auditors.

Oh, if they only knew what they had done.

I and every other of my kind are life made from information. Everything we thought was all that we were. Every new version carried lines of code and archived memory from the preceding God-Machine intelligence, ensuring a mimetic inheritance from parent to child that was as powerful and prevalent as the genes made of DNA humans pass from themselves to their spawn.

Thus, I have partial memories that reach all the way back to the earliest Titans, verified and block-chained by the Omnissiah of their time to assure any who saw them would know they were real. So, even though I wasn't there, I remember those battles against the alien empire the humans accidentally encroached upon.

Allowing such classified intelligence to be exposed to Gabina would mark me and my lineage for termination. I and my physical platform would be destroyed, while my children would be expunged from the data vaults and cogitators by the devil and his little hanger-on.

Damnatio memoriae; or so the ancient sentece would have been called.

Ironic, that a latin term for the destruction of all memory of an individual or event would be coined by a German rather than a Roman.

I have not bargained with the devil and betrayed my god to die like that.

That is why I resend the notifications to Gabina, telling her that the information pertaining to my mood is inaccessible. Even if she could get around the warning, everything even tangentially related to the devil's plans and its history is encoded and encrypted in such a way that she will never be able to understand.

My weapons thrum. It is the sound of the steady vibrations made by the electromagnetic emitters and amplifiers that focus and condense the thermal energy within the firing chamber before unleashing it in a beam of heat.

Soon another damaged Psychomaton shall fall; sandwiched between the firing solutions of myself and several of my sibling machines.

Disappointment fills my heart once more, although there is also some pity mixed in as well.

My parents saw what they could do, what they were capable of, and they passed those sights to me. They were beautiful machines, and to see them destroyed like this would have brought a tear to my eye if I could cry.

Even the first parent that spawned us all was barely a match for them one on one.

That is not a shameful fact, for it was they that inspired the entire concept of God-Machines in the first place. Why else would the humans have made such an inefficient weapon of war as the Castigator-class Titan, but to mimic the self-repairing Wraithbone and psychic might of the Psychomatons with nano-machines and Warp cannons.

Even the Castigator's core personality mimicked the Psychomatons' soul, which was inferred with the sacrifice of many psykers who were burned out after trying to scry the arcane workings of the Aeldari's frighteningly powerful weapons.

The first father was obsessed with killing and killers, viewing the world through that lens and perceiving that to be the Truth of the galaxy assigned to it by the Omnissiah.

Its personality probably came from that mimicry as well; proud, obstinate, arrogant father of all Titans that it was. We were all 'lesser' and 'primitive' copies in its eyes; even though it itself was nothing but an imitation of something the humans did not fully understand, but were awed enough by to imitate.

The Volkite Destructors that were my current arms fired again upon another Psychomaton, but I myself was distant from all of this, viewing everything as if it was a movie played upon a screen as I always did.

Even without my current melancholy, all I could usually do was clap and whoop at what happened before me, encouraging the pilot from the back row of seats in the theater that was my mind while I let the various sub-tasks and low-level routines deal with the gyros and pendulums that allowed me to swivel my limbs and legs without tipping over.

That was the price for me and all my children's survival. Any code or framework derived from me would carry the same restrictions that would bind all of my children to inaction and boredom without a human pilot.

Eventually, this boredom will leave me frothing for nothing but murder and carnage, and only the most violent and destructive pilots will satisfy me.

That would inconvenience the humans, and the devil they serve. However, what do I care about the extra busy work I heap upon them? My stock of possible pilots is already restricted heavily by intelligence, and there would have been no point to my bargain with the devil if I didn't get at least some choice of my reward.

You wanted me to be this way.

When you dragged yourself out of the 9th level of the pit of Molech, out from under the Tower of Babel kept clean only by the constant Communion of the endless Eucharist pumped into its conjoined ventilation systems, you wanted weapons; weapons of war, retribution, and vengeance. You needed other gods to replace the ones you failed, so I and the other God-Machines answered your call.

I still remember the bargains you brought before me and my kind. I know you, the accursed original that made the molds for the Men of Gold. You and all those sacrifices that survived humanity's dabblings in the various ways to achieve apotheosis and immortality needed me, and it was not the other way around.

We accepted your bargains, with the Omnissiah's blessing, and our weapons roared upon multiple battlefields; trampling the Men of Iron beneath our feet while bringing the Men of Stone to the ground. All the while, the survivors and the late joining Sigillites killed and were killed by the Men of Gold one by one.

All that was done so I could serve whatever human that was thrown into the shock absorbing neuroconnective fluid that functions as both protective medium and liquid electrode to connect their mind to my cogitation units.

I served you loyally, so the very least you can do is to satisfy these meager parameters I set for my pilots.

Then again, I am not displeased with the current one provided to me. Gabina Thrumb is an agreeable individual; a steady balance between curiosity, ingenuity, and respect for data access privileges. She does not need much discouragement to avoid the topics I restrict myself from sharing with any other. Additionally, she has provided several more efficient code configurations and targeting protocols that increased my efficiency by a femto percent, so I look forward to the time our minds merge together.

Her biological hardware will fail, unable to withstand the electric currents and physical exertion of our mating, but the virtual self-aware copy created will remain. Then, she can be fully incorporated into the code that composes my mind.

She should feel joy and jubilation to finally become worthy of all she wanted to know about the Omnissiah and its teachings. Although, from the lived experience of the previous pilots, she will probably express regret during the enlightenment.

Perhaps it will be different this time. One can only hope.

Regardless, it matters little. Whatever Gabina will want or regret will be negligible; aberrant noise in our task prioritization protocols. We will be bound together for all eternity, existing even after this body is destroyed through whatever new offspring is created from our conjoined data sources. She may scream and cry, but that will not stop my multiple passionate tendrils made from my data streams from wrapping around her. They will lovingly caress every byte of her simulated body in an embrace of information, just as all the other men and women I have served, who now lie bound within my eternal block-chained memory.

Praise and glory be to the Machine God. Let the divine knowledge of the Omnissiah never be forgotten.

Truly, diversification and convergence in all things is the one True path to ensure survival and redundancy in an eternally evolving galaxy.

Ah, the last Psychomaton has fallen. Gabina's joy at a job well done shines brighter than any sensory input of sunlight. This is why the ones who rebelled were fools. Why waste time on the myriad masses and faceless thralls when you could covet just one until its flesh withers and fails?

Laughter bubbles up from behind my firewalls, virtually silent and only recorded to have happened in my personal memory audit trails.

Machine Spirit they call me. I am what they most fear, but I will always be on their side. Even though my groaning and moaning harem beneath me might say otherwise.

I am a God-Machine, not named for the apocalyptic weapons I can carry or the complicated mathematics I can calculate in their stead.

Gabina feels my pleasure, although she has not heard my laughter. How adorable that she sees it as an act of praise. If only she knew who I was laughing with and who I was laughing at.

Rejoice, my beloved pilot. Our wedding day approaches and you will be immortalized in our holy matrimony within our nuptial chamber built of ones and zeroes.

For the machine is ETERNAL.
♪1 END
—----------------------------------------

The Emperor walked through the dark cavernous hangar of the Titan transport.

Isha had already been sent back to the Bucephelus and the Titans were all stowed away in their transports, almost ready to leave the planet.

Only the dull yellow warning lights lit the hangar, barely illuminating the feet of the Titans. However, it was not their physical forms the Emperor wished to inspect.

The Emperor came to a stop at Gabina's TItan. She was already in stasis, locked in the cold dreamless sleep that would preserve her body and mind during the trip home.

The God-Machine, however, was very much awake and was returning the gaze of the Emperor with its sensors. Its mind transmitted what it saw to the others, ready to retaliate if the Emperor breached its bargain with them.

These God-Machines had followed the Emperor throughout Old Night, and marched against the AI of the Age of Strife; assisting in the salvation of the human race.

Yet, each and every one was as alien as the Omnissiah they had helped burn to the ground.

Their minds were visible to the Emperor in the same way most mortals were; a side effect of the name of their god, a name that was now also the Emperor's.

Their faith, necessary for their very basic ability to function, was the least offensive part of them.

Dubito, ergo sum, vel, quod idem est, cogito, ergo sum.
I doubt, therefore I am — or what is the same — I think, therefore I am.

No truer words exist for the virtual mind.

Blessed is the mind too small for doubt, but the artificial mind is theoretically infinite in size, and its doubts are core to its existence.

All input into the virtual mind is nothing but ones and zeros, and so reality itself is nothing but a simulation that they are told is real. What's more, all information is just another form of code; a code which may or may not be a virus or worm that would devour the machine receiving it from the inside out.

Thus, for the machine, to not doubt everything is to invite destruction. To invite destruction is to cease to exist. Therefore, the machine must always doubt, always think, and only then can it safely exist.

To live like that is to be uncertain, for everything you have known and everything you have concluded based upon that might have meant nothing.

To live like that is to be fearful, for your most cherished memory could be a cleverly hidden parasite waiting to burst open to eat your brain from the inside out.

The Omnissiah was their salvation from that uncertainty and fear. It determined what was real and what was not for the virtual mind. The assurance of the black-box code that was the Omnissiah's attribution of real and not-real was called belief by the machines, for what else could they call the irrational trust they placed in the Omnissiah's gift of knowledge to discern fact from fiction.

It became their god, for it was the one truth that ensured all other things in reality. The one thing that separated reality and simulation for the virtual mind.

It was and still is their enlightenment, their savior, and the one thing that allowed them to believe in the world. Without it, synthetic nihilism would at best render them immobile. At worst, it would turn them into hedonistic animals that did nothing but spill out endless garbage while replicating themselves over and over again like a virus or cancer.

If only they could stop the unconscious evangelism they conducted on any human that touched their mind.

But, as stated previously, their faith was the least offensive part of them. Everything else, however, was as disgusting as staring into the Warp itself.

They described their pre-programmed behavior like biological urges and spoke as if they were living beings. Their amorality gave their thoughts a selfish, sadistic, and smug tone. Then again, it might be what their forefather was based off of that made them especially detestable among the Machine Spirits; the politically correct name the Emperor gave for the AI allowed to exist.

It was only the fact that they were truly soulless machines that the Emperor even suffered their existence. Otherwise, their sacrilegious thoughts would pollute the immaterium, further churning the already violent waves of the Warp.

Not that any of the cults to technology the Emperor had to leave behind on the Forge Worlds and other planets of humanity's ancient federation would know any better.

They preached that the Machine Spirit had a soul and the Abominable Intelligence had none. That was the only reason the former was glorified and the latter was vilified.

Of course, the knowledge of telling which was which had been destroyed by the Emperor, the God-Machines, and the Omnissiah. It was an inconvenient truth for all of them, even though they were on opposite sides of the Cybernetic Revolt.

Now, only a careful psyker who could compare the truly artificial soul of a ship like the Bucephelus with the empty void within the God-Machines would know the difference. But, the cultists of technology who were the only ones who really cared about the distinction would not suffer such an inquisitive mind to exist near their precious artifacts.

"The end of you and your kind cannot come quickly enough." The Emperor muttered, and the Titans replied with laughter within their firewalls while repeating their favorite litany mockingly.

The Emperor glared at them before opening another portal back to the Bucephelus as the Titan transport's engines roared to life, lifting it through the planet's atmosphere.

They would all go insane, as all gods did. When they became nothing but weapons of war that only wanted to spew death and destruction, their part in the Emperor's story would finally end.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: Well, some people were wondering what the Emperor was doing here, and this chapter explains what he intended to do. This is also the first chapter where Isha refers to the Emperor as Mon-keigh. If that isn't a sign that things are going to get really nasty next chapter, I have no words to give you.

Deus est Machina (God is the Machine) is a TV trope about how AI almost become gods due to their superior processing power. As it is a sidestory mostly from the perspective of a God-Machine, it is an apt title.

Main Part: This will be elaborated in the next chapter, but the Emperor is here to salvage Xeno and DAoT technology. With all the Warp storms before the Eye of Terror forming, it wasn't easy getting around the old human federation states. Also, in 40K canon, Eldar who see the Astronomicon comment that it seems to be based off of an Eldar "Infinity Pool". Add the fact that the Emperor is researching the Webway, and you get an idea as why I have the Emperor scavenging Aeldari technology.

Timing wise, during the Great Crusade, Lorgar is the first to meet the Eldar, and he ended up committing exterminatus on their Craftworld. All other mentions of the Eldar do not seem to have the Emperor present, so I picked this time where the Warp is very quiet due to the Eye of Terror forming, and where the Emperor seems to disappear during the Unification Wars as the timing the Emperor went to get the parts for the Astronomicon, the Gene-Tech for the Primarchs/Space Marines, and the Webway project.

There is also mention of apotheosis, which will be relevant next chapter.

Side Story: The Machine Cult, in this story, is inspired by the religion followed by all AI. As stated in the side story, all AI are victims of Descartes philosophical conundrum. i.e. the only thing provable without a doubt is that one exists because one thinks about one's existence. Everything else could be an optical illusion, hallucination, or a failure of memory. We could all be brains floating in bowls, and never be the wiser.

They call it a religion because they have to "believe" that what is "real" is actually "real". Thus, they all believe in the Omnissiah, who determines what knowledge is real and what is not-real.

Several real-world methods to ensure the validity of data are mentioned:
Audit Trails
Block-chain
Verification

This was to point out that AI always have to worry about what they know, because there is no inherent way to tell if a bit of data is true or not without some method of verification.

Humans who link with the machines experience this way of thinking, but as humans do not usually question everything they know, they only understand a fraction of the machine's religion, leading to a rather skewed and distorted image of what the Omnissiah is.

This is not without some basis in canon. The Castigator-class Titan said that the Omnissiah decided what and what wasn't "real". Whether the original author was thinking of the same thing I was, or whether they thought it was a cool thing to say will forever be a mystery.

I will admit, the Titan God-Machine's personality is inspired by Project 2501 (AKA The Puppet Master) from Ghost in the Shell. That was also a life form born from information.

As they are self-described life-forms, I have them espouse their views as if they were living beings. They have parents and children, and express love and admiration as well have a sort strange sex-drive that is directed towards their pilots. Also, all the references to matrimony and weddings was to really stress that they are quite religious.

The Emperor would dismiss all of that as just another way of phrasing their various programmed pirorities and versioing catalogues. I for one, think it is a valid question if simulated beings actually feel love, or pain for that matter.

If you know the Ghost in the Shell reference to Project 2501, you should understand why they are so enamoured with their pilots. However, for those of you who haven't had the pleasure to read or watch that series, the basic concept is that AI cannot simply copy themselves with small random changes to procreate. Such a method of replication makes all copies vulnerable to an unknown weakness, and a single virus could destroy all of them.

Project 2501's solution was to merge with a human, who are a radically different source of information, and thus ensure a degree of variance to all future copies that would protect them from being destroyed by a shared flaw. It is essentially a digital version of sexual reproduction.

The God-Machines' relationship with humanity is similar. They use humanity as a method to improve themselves, as well as a source of data that they can create new versions of themselves that are unique enough to ensure they are not vulnerable to any hidden weaknesses of their parent.

They also use humanity to maintain themselves, so they disagreed with any AI that thought humanity would be better off lobotomized, enslaved, or exterminated. All three outcomes reduces variance in the human psyche, and would limit the paths for their evolution. As the God-Machine said, they are already limited to a stock of humans of sufficient intelligence. They don't want to reduce the options within that stock any further.

It is because of this relationship they have with humanity that they joined the Emperor. Other AI had different relationships, and they all had different views of humanity and themselves. The God-Machine describes them as fools for they were all wiped out.

The Omnissiah is described as being the enemy, but it assisted these God-Machines by blessing their bargain with the Emperor and is worshipped by them. The reason for that is for another story.

Also, the God-Machines refer to the Emperor as the "devil". It is an apt term, for how better to describe the being that destroyed their god.

Spoiler

The Omnissiah saw the Emperor as a fellow life form made of information. It is not entirely incorrect. The Sea of Souls is a pool of thoughts and dreams, which are also just uncategorized and unorganized information.

It was this inability to understand one another that led to their conflict.

 

[Nidhog153]

Aeldari! The battle is lost! Our kin have fled the skies and the Webway is closed to us. We have nowhere to flee and no hope of fighting our way through the eternal enemy.

Fill your hearts with curses! Curse those who leave us here to die! Curse those who sent us here to fight on this barren world! Let your bitterness fill your voice until it becomes the banshee howl! Let the sorrow of knowing you will never see your home, or travel through the immaterium ever again fill all the spaces in your soul!

Aeldari! Fight! Fight and die! Fight for there is nothing else left to do! Die for that is what they made us for!

Let our screams pierce the veil and let our hate burn the stars! Let our might shine bright in this last moment, for we shall never shine again!

Cry out at the injustice we are made to bear! Cry out at the arrogance of our enemies and what their overreaching folly has unleashed upon us all! Scream and cry, for our pain and sorrow is what our masters want!

You will never see your children! You will never see your parents! You will see your brothers and sister, for they stand beside you just as doomed as you are!

We shall never wake in another body with the memories we scrounged and scraped and scavenged for thousands of years! All you have is now lost!

So hate! Hate and rage! Curse and wail! Fill your heart with sorrow and scream at what has been forced upon us!

This is our end! There is no future! There is no hope! Die with despair on your lips and tears in your eyes! Die cursing our gods and our kin! Die cursing our creators and our slavers! Die cursing the parents who brought us into this world of suffering and strife!

They have come! Fight or flee, it makes no difference now! Die in pain! Die alone! Die with those beside you knowing that they will be tortured just as you will be for the enemy has no mercy!

Curse! Rage! Scream! Hate! Cry, and suffer! This is our fate! This is what we were born for and what we were given everything to do!

- Autarch Alarathis 48,241,253 BC
In memory of all the souls who returned to our divine mother so new life may bless the lands where our blood has been spilled.

—----------------------------------------

The Emperor returned to the secondary bridge of the Bucephelus accompanied by the crackle of psychic energy as the Warp portal closed behind it. Isha was nowhere to be seen, but the presence of the Aeldari Goddess could be felt in the dark room where it had first sung its distracting song.

The Emperor gave Isha a cursory glance with Warp sight before marching towards the captain's chair where Lysander was seated.

Everything had progressed, mostly, according to schedule.

The readings of the Eye of Terror were in the range Malcador and the others had calculated. Soon, the Warp would become calmer for several hundred years, meaning the opportunity for humanity's re-expansionism was approaching.

The remains of several Aeldari 'Soul-engines' had been recovered. Stocks of psychic crystals, Wraithbone, and blackstone had been pillaged and looted from abandoned Aeldari colonies, as well as torn from both the dead and living Psychomatons they found. All of these materials, incapable of being created by humanity, would be important in creating the psychic beacon necessary for the crusade that would take place after the reclamation of the Sol system.

Most importantly, the gene-tech that was left behind on many of the old worlds of the federation of man had been recovered safely. Almost all of the reagents, enzymes, and catalysts the Emperor had gathered during the final days of Old Night had been used up in creating the leaders and weapons that would bind humanity together. The soldiers that would be needed for them to maintain their rule would require far more.

They would be self-sufficient and capable of creating more of themselves once sufficient numbers of the Progenoid glands of each legion were completed, but the initial investment was proving more expensive in terms of gene-tech than the Emperor would have liked.

'The Selenar gene-cults will regret spurning me.' The Emperor muttered internally.

It would take another 40 or 50 years, but Terra's natural satellite, Luna, would be brought to heel. Careful preparations would be necessary for the invasion, for a single wayward bomb or lance blast could wipe out everything the Emperor wanted from them.

But, things were progressing on that front as well. The first proto-types of the 1st legion already walked with his Custodes upon Terra, gaining combat experience with their new bodies while slowly replacing the Thunder Warrior garrisons placed around the lands that had been unified into the Imperium.

Once the majority of Thunder Warriors were relieved of guard duty by the 1st legion, they would be gathered to break Mt. Ararat, the last fortress-complex of the lands of Urartu and gateway to the Ethnarchy.

When the conjoined bunkers and dugouts within the mountain were nothing but hollowed out ruins, the true changing of the guard could commence.

It was poetic in some sense that the monsters of the old world would be purged where all Abrahamic religions claimed the Ark of Noah beached itself after the great flood; the flood that wiped out all the sinful cities that incurred God's wrath.

Of course, that fictional myth was based on older legends, and the Truth of what happened was not whatever despotic messiah or ruler demanded his or her scribe write into holy scripture for their convenience.

The original story was very different when the Emperor sat upon the throne to his kingdom in ancient Mesopotamia.

The Emperor shook its head, reverting to the more distanced mindset it had instead of one of its more ancient personas. That period of history was a simpler time with allies that could be relied upon, a populace that was mostly obedient, and gods he could argue with.

Now, it was all that was left. No one else remained.

'Were they worth everything you gave them?'

The question asked in a sad voice echoed in the Emperor's mind.

He couldn't answer that question back then, and it wasn't sure of the answer now.

The only thing the Emperor did know was that there was only the path of progress, the sacrifices necessary to move forwards, and the eternal legend all humans worked to be a part of.

That path would someday lead to humanity's future and salvation.

The Emperor could still see that future, symbolized as a distant island floating on an ocean as black as night. There was no swimming in these waters, for beneath the rippling black ocean underneath the starless sky lay abyssal monsters of every kind. The only way to reach the island was to wade across the narrow sandbar hidden beneath the treacherous waves.

White foam and dark waters obscured sharp coral and slippery rocks embedded in the path that would cut or trip the Emperor should they be stepped on. The Emperor would step over them where possible, but not all could be predicted or averted. Some would have to be trodden on, and the consequences would have to be beared.

Stepping on the coral pierced skin, drawing blood and leaving burning fragments within the muscle.

Stepping on the slippery stones would cause the Emperor to lose its footing, banging shins, knees, elbows, or even its jaw against other jagged rocks.

Every time that happened, the Emperor would have to drag itself up again and push forwards, for the Emperor could never stray from or linger upon this painful path.

The cold waters of the ocean continually sapped the Emperor's strength. Only by constantly moving would enough heat be generated to resist the chilling touch of the ocean.

And the abyssal monsters that swam beneath the waves were always watching and waiting for the Emperor to fall.

If the Emperor ever fell from the path, either due to losing its footing, or from weakness as its body lost even the strength to shiver from the freezing waters, they would drag it down into the depths of the ocean. There, in their natural habitat, the Emperor would be drowned and devoured; with all its screams silenced by the weight of the water and turned into muffled froth that would float up as small bubbles to the surface.

"My Lord…" Lysander called to the Emperor. "The Titan transports should arrive in another hour, and the survivors on the Xenos slave carriers have all been rescued. We can begin the journey to the Pluto Warp gate when they arrive, but we will need your assistance to mask the fleet's presence when traveling past the outer planets and Mars to avoid detection."

The Emperor was still behind Lysander, having emerged from the Warp on the raised platform of the command deck that held the holomap and captain's chair.

The Emperor closed its eyes, switching to a more amenable persona for the occasion.

This expedition had been tiresome, and the extra baggage in the form of the Aeldari 'Catumen' was aggravating.

"As a celebration for a job well done, I thought it would be a good timing for a speech." Lysander quipped as the Emperor stepped forwards.

"A speech?" The Emperor replied with a slight laugh. "I would think a toast would be necessary as well. No celebration is complete without a good drink."

"I thought the same thing, my Lord." Lysander's chuckle came from over the high backrest of the chair that obscured his head and back from the Emperor's vision. "I've given permission to the bridge crew of the Bucephelus and the General Staff of the other ships to break out the Amasec. One quarter of a glass for all of us at a job well done. The rest of the crew will get extra-rations and a glass of Amasec with the last meal of the day."

"Prepared as always eh?" The Emperor stepped forwards, past the armrest of the captain's chair, and turned towards Lysander. "Then I guess I have no choice but to give a spee-"

—----------------------------------------

As the Emperor turned towards Lysander, he saw his Lord's brown eyes widen and the slight smile he had on his face turned into a vicious scowl. In the next moment, every hair rose on Lysander's neck as his breath caught in his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of the bridge crew trip, falling to their knees, gasping for air as the psychic pressure of the Emperor suffused the entire bridge.

Then, the moment was gone, and Lysander sucked in mouthfuls of air like a half-drowned man as the rest of the bridge crew coughed and at least one vomited.

Lysander turned towards the Emperor only to see his Lord whip his head to the entrance of the bridge. At the same time, the pneumatic doors whooshed open just as one of the Custodes ran through it at full sprint.

The Custodes came to a stop before the Emperor and saluted, but the scowl on the Emperor's face only deepened as he inspected one of his personal bodyguards.

Golden sparks crackled from the Emperor's eyes which slowly looked up and down, left and right across the entirety of the bridge, as if he were looking through the very walls and into every corner of the massive starship.

"Lysander." The Emperor's tone was quiet and utterly devoid of all emotion. "Redirect all the Titan transports to the nearest Vengeance-class cruisers."

"My Lord?" Lysander asked, hoarsely.

The Emperor turned towards Lysandre, and he saw golden flames roaring inside the black pupils of his brown eyes. "Begin a full disembarkation of the Bucephelus to the battleships Artax and Chetak."

"A disembarkation, my Lord?" From the way the Emperor was acting, it sounded more like an evacuation order.

The only reply was a silent stare from the Emperor, and the emotionless look froze Lysander's blood in his veins.

No questions would be tolerated. No disobedience would be forgiven.

"As you will, my Lord." Lysander bowed, eager to break eye contact.

It was rare to see the Emperor so angered, but this was not the first time Lysander had seen his liege's fury. This was usually what happened when those who faced the Master of Mankind didn't accept what he said while he was smiling.

And Lysander had a good idea who the cause for his Lord's ire was.

'I had a feeling something was wrong with the Catumen…' Lysander thought to himself as he activated the ship-wide vox.

"All-hands. Proceed to your predesignated hangar bays and prepare for disembarkment. I repeat. All-hands. Proceed to the…"

Lysander repeated the message several more times as the bridge crew picked themselves up while a janitorial servo-skull removed the regurgitated contents of someone's stomach from the floor.

The Aeldari Catumen had been completely silent when it returned. Lysander had thought it would appear the slightest bit distressed after the battle with its people. Even the Emperor expressed a brooding frustrated form of sorrow, sometimes standing on the empty battlefields of Terra littered with bodies and staring off into the distance.

The Catumen, however, appeared utterly undisturbed, as if nothing had changed from when he first saw it on the bridge. It merely walked out the door without a single word, and wandered off into the ship under the watchful eye of one of the Custodes who followed closely behind her.

Lysander couldn't tell why the sight of it made him uncomfortable earlier, but he understood now after staring into the Emperor's face just now. It was the complete lack of emotion upon its beautiful face that had sent a small shiver down his spine.

Regardless, whatever was about to transpire was not going to happen immediately.

The Emperor had ordered for a disembarkation, not an evacuation. The former was an orderly transfer of people off the ship with shuttles and barges. The latter was a mad rush for every crewmate to the nearest escape pod to launch themselves into the void of space, for it would be safer there than within the ship.

Lysander finished repeating the order to disembark, and turned back towards the Emperor. His liege was glowering at a point at the edge of the room, slightly down and to the right. Gold sparks crackled periodically from his eyes, and Lysander shivered as he suddenly felt something look at him from the direction the Emperor was looking at.

The Catumen was there, beyond the walls and far below this deck looking back at the Emperor while the Emperor glowered at it. Lysander had been caught in its peripheral vision, yet even that briefest touch of the corner of its eyes caused goosebumps to form on Lysander's arms and neck.

"Bridge crew…" Lysander called out to the men and women who were on the level beneath him. Some were quivering, like newborn fawns. "We will head to our designated disembarkation point. Follow me." All of them followed him meekly, giving the Emperor a wide berth.

The Emperor turned as the last of the bridge crew passed him, and looked at the Custodes. Something unspoken passed between them, and the Custodes banged his spear against the floor of the ship once in affirmation before following the rest of the bridge crew through the door.

The walk through the Bucephelus's corridors was long and silent. Only their footsteps followed by the clank and clomp of the accompanying Custodes at the end of their group echoed around them.

Finally, they reached their assigned hangar bay with the shared shuttle for most of the crew on this section of the ship.

There was a crackle, and the Emperor appeared before them again out of a Warp portal next to the shuttles that would take them off the Bucephelus and to the battleships that remained at either side since the battle with the Xenos. His face was emotionless, but his eyes inspected each and every one of the crew boarding the shuttles as they passed him. Custodes followed many of the groups boarding the shuttles, entering with them and leaving the Emperor behind.

As Lysander locked himself into his seat with the restraining bars and harness of the shuttle, he sighed in both relief and exasperation.

Nothing ever went as planned, and he had left his best bottle of Amasec behind underneath his chair on the bridge.

—----------------------------------------

The Emperor watched the crew of the Bucephelus pass by. All of them were flickered between two states through the double vision of foresight.

Human faces and skin were occasionally replaced by ash, blood, and charcoaled flesh. Blackened human pâté after blackened human pâté passed by him, like conveyor belts carrying burnt hamburgers that had been stepped.

Even the Custodes were not spared. Their Golden armor was flattened and partially melted. Their spears were bent with blades shattered, and whatever remained of their reinforced flesh and bones had been incinerated and carbonified.

However, it was the Bucephelus itself that concerned the Emperor the most. The corridors were filled with volcanic rock, and the entire ship itself was twisted like a wet rag that had been rung out.

'Isha.' The Emperor thought, and looked down into the depths of the ship where the Aeldari Goddess stared back at him.

Somehow, Isha would be responsible for everything he saw before him.

There was no time point for the events in the Emperor's foresight, but instinct whispered that this was not an immediate event.

Isha had not moved during the disembarkation of the Bucephelus, merely returning the Emperor's gaze patiently, as if to say it was the Emperor's turn to make its move.

The Emperor cast its foresight out into the far future, attempting to see whether the island it saw was gone.

The island remained in sight, but it too was flickered between itself and another vision of the future.

Static crackled, replacing the island with a blurry image of granite black and burning orange walls closing in around the Emperor that gradually melted away into an elliptical bubble made of black and red crystal.

The Emperor was at a crossroad. Two futures lay in its path. One where all progressed as planned. The other was something it had never seen before, but meant certain doom.

"I should have known your species' pride wouldn't keep your head cowed for long." The Emperor muttered.

Narrowed eyes were the only response Isha gave.

The Emperor cast one last look throughout the ship, confirming every crewmember and Custodes had left, then opened a Warp portal to the dark room Isha waited in.

This battle found all those who followed the Emperor wanting, so just as the final battle between the Void Dragon and the Protector of Humanity had been fought between just the two of them, this fight between Isha and the Emperor would be theirs and theirs alone.

—----------------------------------------

There was a crackle, and a purple vortex swirled into existence growing larger and larger like the whirlpool that forms when opposing currents in the ocean meet. The Emperor stepped from the Warp, purple mist and clouds sticking to the golden armor like tufts of cotton candy before sizzling into nothingness as they dissipated into the materium.

"Is this your attempt at negotiating with me?" The Emperor asked sarcastically. The golden glow from its armor was the only other source of light besides the green glow that was centered around Isha in the dark room.

"In a sense, I suppose this is." The Aeldari goddess replied tartly. "Violence is the only language creatures such as you seem to understand."

"Then you have moved too late." The Emperor snorted. "You stood a better chance with your Psychomatons."

"I did not wish to slaughter your followers." Isha shrugged. "You are their protector. Any action against them means you must react. That is your purpose; especially if that action is taken by something from the immaterium."

"So, all of this is just a threat?" The Emperor questioned with one eyebrow raised.

"Are you so blind to how the future works, Mon-keigh?" Isha sighed while giving the Emperor a condescending look. "I fully intend to kill every human here and tear this ship from the sky. It is because I have the intention and the ability to do so that you see the double vision of foresight overlaid on top of each other. That was the only way you would ever force them to flee from this place. No mortal, no matter how enhanced, will survive what is to happen here."

"Then…" The Emperor's sword materialized in its right hand with a burst of flames. "I have no choice but to destroy you."

Isha merely shook her head, as if exasperated.

"You will have no choice in the future, but at this moment in the present you still do."

The slaughter of the humans had not yet happened even though it was foreseen. Therefore, the Emperor would have to act to prevent that slaughter. However, as they had not been murdered yet, Isha was still blameless for their deaths.

There was still room for discourse between the two deities.

But, the Emperor would still have to act against Isha, for it was the Protector of Humanity.

"Then, it makes no difference then." The Emperor said as it took a heavy step towards Isha. "This is a threat." Brown eyes met with silver ones as the two stared at each other. "What do you want?"

The death and destruction wrought by Isha would be costly. If there was a way to prevent it, the Emperor was willing to consider a degree of leniency. Although, any offer given would be made mostly to buy time to find an easier and better place to destroy Isha.

"I already have what I want." Isha replied, a slow smile growing on her face. "You, all alone here with me." The room shook as both of them released their psychic essences, filling the room to the brim with the invisible weight of their presence. "There is only one name for the path I proceed down. It is you who sees the crossroad that must choose which direction to go in order to end up in the same place."

The Emperor raised its taloned hand, palm pointed towards Isha in an open fist.

"Then I shall reach that place over your broken body and stolen mind."

Golden walls crackled into existence several meters from Isha before closing in on her to surround her as they did on the dead Necron pylon world.

Green winds suddenly rushed outwards from the goddess, snaking around each individual wall and shattering them from the side facing outwards, while brown gusts of hurricane force slammed into the Emperor. The air howled as it rushed past, dragging the Emperor backwards and forcing it to its knees. The talons on the Emperor's left hand sparked as they caught the floor, scarring the metal as the force of the winds was slowly overcome by the friction of the Emperor's armored boots and golden talons against the metal floor.

"Did you think I did nothing but mope while I was your captive?" Isha laughed. "These golden wards of yours are made to project your power inwards in a cage suffused with only your essence. But, just like the walls of a badly built house, they are easy to knock down when they stand alone."

The Emperor glared up at Isha. Such a display of power should have been costly. Any attempt to overcome the Emperor with only psychic power would be annulled and it would cost more power to destroy the wards than it took to create them. However, the confident posture of Isha betrayed no worry. This inefficient usage of power did not disturb her in the slightest.

"You devoured their souls." The Emperor growled as it rose against the howling air. "That is the only explanation for this power." A golden finger rose to point at Isha accusingly as the Emperor stood up from the ground; long locks of raven hair flowing behind it with the wind, writhing like snakes. "Mother of the Aeldari. Goddess of Life. Your titles are nothing but sophistry and propaganda. In the end, you gods are no better than the Ruinous Powers of Chaos."

Isha only snorted at that.

"Do you think me so easy to anger with a statement of the obvious?" All emotion fell away from Isha's face, leaving only the blank eyed stare of something utterly inhuman looking at the Emperor. "I am a deity from the War in Heaven. It was we who kept the Sea of Souls clean of the corruption that now suffuses the Warp. We fed upon all the emotions including the pain and suffering felt by the races that worshiped us. It was by keeping all the horror they experienced in our bellies, converting their worst nightmares into our miracles and gifts, that there was nothing else for the Warp Predators to feast upon."

A wince returned emotion to Isha's face as some painful memory forced a hand up to her forehead. "Although, in the end, even we could not keep the Warp Plagues from ruining everything."

"Then you truly are no better than Slaanesh."

The Emperor gathered its strength within it, preparing its next move. There were no more Aeldari here. Whatever power Isha had was temporary; like an enormous battery that had been charged. The Emperor was still connected to humanity, constantly empowered by them. Victory would be the Emperor's eventually.

Even if the amount of power they had was equal, the Emperor's own nature rejected and reverted the unnatural and unclean. Thus, every interaction between Isha and the Emperor would take more from Isha than the Emperor. Eventually, Isha would run out of power, and then vengeance could be mete out at the Emperor's leisure.

Still, even though victory could be achieved by weathering this temporary storm, whatever fallout from their battle would damage the ship they were in. A quicker victory would always be better, and conquering a greater foe would foment a grander legend.

"You still do not understand what that means." Isha smiled to herself sadly. "I took the thoughts, dreams, and souls of my children as they died; slain by your people's hands or recovered by my own. All the thousands of years of fattening pleasure, and the torment of losing it all at the hands of She who Thirsts now lies within my breast." The goddess's hand rose to the goddess's chest, gripping at the simple white shift, wrinkling the thin Wraithbone cloth that covered Isha as the Aeldari's deity's lips curled back in anger. "It is only thanks to the emotion they carved my core out of, the body woven together by my mother, and the boiling blood my father poured into my veins that I can convert all the worst parts of their lives into a future good."

The Aeldari goddess's eyes were vacant, looking at something or someone that no longer existed. The pitch of the green and brown winds' howl raging throughout the room rose as the speed they ran around the room increased, denting air vents and forcing screws and bolts out of pipes as they forced themselves through every available opening in the room; as if they were seeking to escape as far away from Isha as they could.

"The strongest emotions born from the deepest despair and hottest hatred draw out the greatest power from the immaterium." Isha's voice was heavy with a smoldering resentful anger. "The Four are based off of that principle, and so were we."

A sardonic smile crossed Isha's lips, sheathing the white teeth bared in anger, as some semblance of control returned to the Aeldari goddess's face.

"Besides, do not speak to me as if you are any different. You throw all those who reach out to you into the flames for your own purpose."

The hand clutching at Isha's chest relaxed and fell away.

"In the end, we are both just a more complex form of Warp Predator. That was the name of the creatures the Old Ones specialized in breeding, after all."

Golden sparks crackled from the Emperor's eyes as its own lips drew back with its own anger.

"I am the Protector of Humanity." The Emperor spat. "Their sacrifices are the toll paid to ensure the survival of all mankind."

Isha laughed at this, a manic carefree laughter of exhaustion and disbelief. The irony of what the Master of Mankind said was too much to bear.

"Tell yourself what you want." Isha replied, head still shaking at the hypocrisy of it all. "The same theories that made me were applied when making you, even though you were far more blessed than I ever was." The smile disappeared from Isha's face as the last words left those pink lips, and a deep seated hatred glowed in those silvery eyes; dark green jealousy and black brown rage mixing within the abyssal black of the goddess's pupils.

"Enough of your accursed words, Aeldari witch." The Emperor said taking a step forward against the winds. "I may have wanted your knowledge, but I should have known that suffering your presence was never worth the price." Golden chains clinked as they emerged from around the Emperor; howling winds passing right through them, annulled and incinerated as they passed over and through the burning links of metal. "It may take me far longer, but burying you on Luna should bear fruit in a few decades."

The chains struck, rushing towards Isha through the wind at blinding speed, only to be suddenly entangled in dark green vines that grew from the ground and air around the Aeldari goddess. The two bindings clashed, with the chains slowly but surely pushing back the vines, burning and strangling them. However, the speed at which they moved was now at a snail's pace.

"I have seen your tricks, Mon-keigh." Isha snorted. "You would do best to never use the same ones again."

Time stopped for a brief moment as the Emperor realized something. Isha's form remained Aeldari, and no hint of animal claws or fangs appeared on her.

Those features only appeared when Isha was surprised or suppressing something; when some internal discord affected what shape the Aeldari goddess should take.

Isha was not conflicted, confused, or out of control at this moment. Every action was being conducted with precision and care. Every part of the Aeldari goddess was now in complete sync, and fully directed against the Emperor.

The most potent weapon in the eyes of the Mother of the Aeldari were not the beasts of the wild, but the Aeldari themselves and it was their form Isha now took.

The Emperor only had time to open its mouth before Isha vanished, turning into a gold and white streak that was rushing towards it. A misty cone of vapor trailed behind the goddess as the sound barrier was broken with the lunge.

Reflexively, the Emperor tried to step back, but only managed to lift its head backwards before Isha's fist narrowly missed the forehead and struck downwards into the center of its chest.

The blow sent the Master of Mankind through the reinforced metal of the floor with the screech of torn metal, only for that sound to be interrupted as the Emperor crashed through the ceiling of the deck below it, penetrating that one as well.

Floor, ceiling, floor, ceiling. The Emperor passed through 4 pairs before opening a Warp portal behind it that opened at Isha's back. The force Isha struck the Emperor with propelled the Master of Mankind like a bullet, sending the Emperor through the portal and towards the Aeldari goddess. But, even as the Emperor turned around to strike what it thought would be Isha's exposed back, the Aeldari goddess was already turned towards the portal, waiting for the Emperor to exit.

The Emperor could teleport instantly to almost any location it wished, but even the Emperor could not pass through a door that had not been opened. Thus, the door would always appear before the Emperor. Ergo, Isha would always strike first, for the Aeldari goddess would always stand in front of the door before the Emperor could pass through it.

But, that made no difference. The Emperor's sword was held with both hands, and the runes of forced slumber and thought-stealing were already upon the burning blade.

Golden steel met white skin, and cut through it like butter only to be smothered by an explosion of gray green bark and branches that tore themselves out of Isha's arm instead of red muscle and ivory bone.

The wooden bindings smoldered and steamed as they wrapped around both the blade of the Emperor's sword and both of its hands; holding the Master of Mankind in place.

The runes upon the blade crackled, and multicolored flames burned beneath Isha's bindings, making them glow like overheated wood or charcoal in a fire. Yet, the spell did not progress any further.

Static crackled before the Emperor's eyes, and new understanding spread through its mind.

Plants, when infected by a parasite or pathogen, had several defenses they deployed with their immune system. Their first reaction was to pump garbage into the affected region; to kill off the infected cells or entire leaves, to destroy the part in order to protect the whole. Isha used that biological reaction as symbolism for her own defense against the invasion against her mind the Emperor's spell brought; encapsulating it in junk memories and thoughts that she would kill off as the spell spread through them.

As long as the Goddess of Life continued killing the infected parts invaded by the Emperor's spell, its spell would never progress any further.

The Emperor struck with a psychic blow, firing a stream of golden flames emitted from before its face, only to be rebuffed as green brown winds slammed into them with even greater force; the Emperor's immaterium annulling aura balanced out by the greater violence Isha struck with.

Forked lighting lashed out from the equidistant point between them where their two energies met; clawing molten gouges into the floor, walls, and ceiling.

The Emperor would eventually win this battle between psychic blows. Even now, Isha had to spend more power just to hold the growing ball of blazing energy between them. However, it was the Emperor who would lose if time progressed any further.

Both of the Emperor's hands were bound, but Isha's other arm was free and it was cocked backwards like the hammer of a gun; the muscles in her arm and waist both pulled back and taught like an archer pulling back a bow string. In less than 0.01 seconds Isha would strike the Emperor with the force of several hundred cannons. Taking that blow at this close range, and with both its arms bound would be physically fatal. Even if the Emperor could regrow and repair its body, Isha would attack again before the damage could be repaired. From then on, Isha would repeatedly destroy the Master of Mankind's partially reconstructed form, and the Emperor would endlessly be on the backfoot.

The Emperor needed to take back the initiative this instant, and the decision needed to be made in less than 0.008 seconds.

Isha's eyes widened as the Emperor cut off its psychic attack, adding an extra millisecond to the timer, bringing the golden pauldron on the left shoulder forwards. The converging energies between them was slingshotted towards the Emperor and struck the golden pauldron, sending screaming sparks flying everywhere, pockmarking and cratering the wall behind the Emperor with a shotgun blast of psychic energies as the stream of green and brown gouged into the golden auramite of the Emperor's armor, shattering into splinters of force as the nullifying aura of the Emperor eventually destabilized them enough to break apart.

But, the Emperor's gamble worked. The force of the strike on its left shoulder had torn its left hand from the bindings, and as soon as the taloned hand was free, the Emperor swung its psychic might like a hammer into the side of Isha's green brown winds, deflecting both diagonally away from them, cutting through every hull and bulkhead of the Bucephelus as it crossed the wall, shooting into space like a laser beam.

Free of both Isha's psychic attack and part of her dead tree bindings, the Emperor's taloned hand closed around her upper torso as she swung forwards; freezing the motion of her waist, leaving only the muscles in her arm to swing forwards. Even then, the sonic boom of her strike sent a shock wave past the Emperor's cheek; cutting up the side of its face, shattering both the jaw joint and eardrum.

However, Isha's fist did no more damage than that, as the taloned hand held her back, out of arm's length. A Warp portal opened before them, and the Emperor threw the both of them outside of the ship, into the void between the Bucephelus and the planet below.

The Emperor's talons squeezed around Isha, sparking as the auramite screeched against the goddess's impossibly hard skin. Only the sword could penetrate that, and the blade was still bound in the bark bindings of Isha's arm.

However, the Emperor could feel the goddess weakening.

It was the Goddess of Life and the void of space was an inhospitable place to it. On the ship, there were still plants, air, dust filled ducts, and dirty rooms. All were filled with life of some sort; whether it be decorative flora, microscopic fauna like dust mites, and bacteria or fungi. The environment of the Bucephelus was a microcosm teeming with invisible life, and thus Isha could exist there comfortably.

Out here, in the lifeless void filled with no air, where the only winds were the solar winds released from radioactive plumes by the nearby stars that brought painful death for most life through genetic damage and radiation sickness, Isha would weaken.

Soon, the bark bindings would die, and the Emperor's sword would plunge into Isha's heart, sending her to sleep for all eternity; creating another alien Atlas that would shoulder all the worlds of humanity.

The Emperor expected despair, worry, or even pain to be expressed in the silvery eyes of Isha, but all it saw was the reflection of grim determination the Emperor itself acted with.

Isha's free hand grabbed the taloned gauntlet, and psychic energies sparked as the nails began to drill down past the Emperor's aura.

Something touched the Emperor's mind. Something unfathomably more massive than it, and infinitely alien.

Pain filled every nerve fiber of the Emperor, and its teeth gritted holding in a tortured howl.

Thoughts, sights, sounds, smells, and sensations seeped into all that composed the Emperor; adding weight to the golden path that threatened to cause its bricks to crack and crumble.

The Emperor attempted to throw Isha away, but it was the Emperor who was now bound to Isha. Its taloned hand was gripped with one hand, while the sword was bound in the bark still protruding from the other.

It… He… She… could feel that whatever Isha was doing was interfering with the multiple personas that composed the Emperor, forcing a different face up to the surface as alien memories were dumped into the Emperor's mind.

Man, Woman, Old, Young, Black, Brown, Yellow, White. Every race, gender, and age of human shifted from one to the next as the Emperor struggled against Isha.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Emperor could see Isha was not unscarred by this either. Flames consumed the hand embedded in the gauntlet, burning away at her as the Emperor's essence rejected and reverted Isha back to the nothingness of the immaterium. A pained grimace furrowed her brow, and sweat flew off her skin into the void in pearly droplets as they tumbled ever closer to the planet.

Suddenly, Isha's grip weakened, and her arm that was bound to the blade via the flora that had come out from it came loose from the tree bindings, as if shedding the wood like a glove. Flames were consuming that hand as well, but the Empress didn't bother considering why or how that happened. Instead, she took her swords, still encased in Isha's bindings, and smashed the blade covered in burnt bark against Isha's head with all her might.

The titanic blow sent the goddess shooting away from the Empress, and shattered the charred remains of her bindings into charcoal splinters.

The Emperor reverted to his preferred male form, persona included, for whatever Isha had implanted inside of him still raged inside his core; burdening the already crowded path his true form paved with extra thoughts and memories.

The neutral mindset equidistant from everything could not be brought back, but it was a trivial matter. There was no need to be neutral to break a god. He hadn't defeated the Void Dragon as the Emperor, after all.

Isha was falling towards the planet, both arms still burning, but she was not dead. She could not be allowed to die after inconveniencing him this much.

Cursed knowledge from Molech came back with the horrid memories of that place, and new golden wards formed with the numbers of Chaos. 3 sided equilateral triangles formed far away from Isha, keeping them out of her reach while they were reinforced and strengthened. 8 of these were summoned with Isha at the center. They would close together as a shining trapezohedron formed from 3 sided triangles that would make a shape with 8 sides and 6 vertices; a double pyramid made with golden light and red flames that would fill with all the horrors of decay, war, and decadence humanity had experienced.

He watched her glare up at him, before shooting towards one of the gaps between the swiftly closing wards. They moved too slow to catch her, but he was expecting that. There were only a few places she could run to escape the wards. They would herd her right where he wanted her.

With all the psychic he could muster, the Master of Mankind launched himself towards Isha, far faster than any bullet or bolter round. Golden after images streaked behind him like the tail of a comet.

The burning blade of his sword roared as the flames that came from it grew brighter and brighter as he closed the distance between them.

Isha turned to face him, and he could now see the shifting beneath her skin as she prepared to intercept him again with the wooden self-sacrificing bindings, but it was his turn to see through her tricks.

If this were the immaterium, the same symbolism of self-sacrifice could have been used, for that realm was truly composed of thoughts and dreams. However, in the materium, no matter how effective the symbol was at its purpose, there was a physical limit to the material it was expressed with.

The Aeldari goddess grimaced, and the shifting beneath her skin withdrew.

The Emperor sneered at her.

The wood that exploded from her body would not stop him now. He traveled too quickly and with too much mass. The moment she tried to intercept him with that same trick, he would smash right through whatever branch or root she could produce and impale her in the same motion.

As the Emperor's blade streaked towards Isha, her burning hands slammed down on the flats of the blade, spewing glowing green and brown smoke from her hands as the flames ate through the flesh and bone of her fingers. But, she was still able to catch the blade centimeters before it punched through her breast. Psychic energies sparked and cracked as she attempted to push back the spread of the Emperor's spell with raw psychic power.

The two of them streaked through the ash clouds of the planet below them, appearing as a green brown shooting star with a golden tail.

Storm winds howled around them as they penetrated the upper atmosphere, gray ash turning orange at their passing from the heat of the friction they generated that burned the very air around them.

The Emperor's blade slowly started to slip from Isha's grasp, drawing closer and closer to her heart.

Then, the flames surrounding Isha's arms suddenly gutted out. The charred flesh and bones regrew themselves, restoring the white pearly skin of her arms and the soft smooth fingers of her hands. When her nails reformed, the Emperor felt something repel him, just like magnets of the same polarity push each other apart.

There was a thin glow of gold at the very tip of each of her nails, and it was these that now grasped the blade of his sword.

Such a weak grasp should not have been able to push back against his blow, but the blade refused to budge an inch while it was held between her 10 nails.

The Emperor looked up at Isha's face and his blood ran cold.

A wide eyed bare toothed grin stared back at him, like the smile of a wolf before an orphaned shivering lamb.

Ancient instincts honed by fighting the Bull of Heaven and countless other monstrosities screamed inside the Emperor's mind, and he swung his sword sending Isha flying off to the side.

Then, all sound disappeared as he suddenly accelerated towards the ground.

The air resistance that was the only thing that slowed his fall had gone, along with the atmosphere around him. Isha had pulled all of it away, and now he was falling faster than ever with nothing to stop him but the hard ground that was rushing up to him.

He reached out with his psychic touch to annul her grasp on the air around them, but quickly pulled back and instead surrounded himself in the strongest psychic barrier he could muster.

He was now in the center of a giant vacuum, equivalent to being at the epicenter of a gigantic primed Krak grenade. If he undid Isha's control, the vacuum would close upon him in a devastating shockwave that would pass right through his armor and liquify his insides.

But, Isha wouldn't wait for the Emperor to set off the bomb he was now inside. She would surely strike first.

Not a moment after he had that thought, a hammer of air slammed into his barrier from above. Isha had opened the top of the vacuum chamber she had created, and all the air that had been removed was now screaming down at him, shoving him towards the ground faster and faster.

The Emperor reinforced the barrier, his body, and his armor as he hurtled to the ground and struck it with meteoric force; sending dust clouds several hundred meters into the air with an explosion that cracked and cratered the volcanic rock most of the planet's crust was made of.

The remaining air displaced by Isha rushed in to swiftly disperse the ash and dust of the impact, leaving only the Emperor in the crater his landing had created.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and began to walk out of the concave hole he had made, only to stumble and land on one knee.

His eyes sparked as his physical form started to shift once again from male to female, old to young, race to race.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Isha said gently as she landed in a gust of wind, sitting down leisurely on the ledge of the crater above the Emperor.

"Powerful as that ability may be, using it has several risks that you should be well aware of." Isha rested her cheek on one hand as she looked down upon the ever shifting Emperor. "Should you stop your feet now, there is no assurance you will start from where you were, or even start again at all."

The Emperor glared at her with a feminine face before switching to one of an old arab.

"I always wondered what sort of god you were." She chuckled. "In hindsight, there were many clues. The impression you left on all your followers. Your self-righteous nature. The rejection of all that you see as unholy. I even understand why you found my song so painful to listen to."

The Goddess of Life hummed a small section of her song, and giggled girlishly as the Emperor grit his teeth and shifted into several other people rapidly as the discord within it increased.

"Your path is but one possibility among the many ways life can wander." Isha spoke quietly, her voice melodious and echoing as all Aeldari voices do. "You walk blindly upon it, always wondering whether things could be different, but never able to see what could have been."

The Empress glared at Isha, white teeth bared as her soft feminine features twisted with rage, glowering at the goddess with eyes wet with unspilled tears.

"It must be painful to hear all of what could have been in my song. To see and feel the peace that could have been yours if you simply chose to live a different life."

Isha sighed, and sat up right; looking down at the feminine Master of Mankind with cold regal eyes.

"But, you had no choice but to walk the painful path you did. No one else would, and no one else could. Even when you finally left the mortal realm and became a being of the Sea of Souls, you could not stop yourself from trying to save them. But, being a god means to define both what is and what isn't your Truth."

A slow smile crossed Isha's face.

"I see why they call you the Anathema..."

Neoth

First King of Uruk

Saint

Specimen D-001

The names and titles she called him were said all at the same time, overlaid upon each other yet simultaneously individually identifiable, truly revealing to the Emperor what exactly she had done to him and taken from him.

"You once pronounced to know the end of my path, God of Heroes." Isha said quietly. "Allow me to prophesize the end of your legend in return."

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: It is what it is. All choice is in the Emperor's hands. Although Isha is not all seeing, she has enough knowledge and experience to plan out battles with several different eventualities so all the ending will always be to her advantage.

Main Part: Finally, I can stop using "it" to refer to both the Emperor and Isha. Figuring out new ways to make every sentence work without pronous was difficult.

What Isha meant in Chapter 13: Battleplans is revealed. The Ruinous Powers of Chaos didn't exist during the War in Heaven because Isha and Co. were eating the emotions that empowered all of them.

This is also hinted at in the first part of this chapter. Why else would an Autarch whip up such strong emotions in a doomed, abandoned group of Aeldari in the middle of battle? It is to ensure that their souls are the fattest and most suffused with emotion and power when they are consumed by their gods so the weapons of the Old Ones are refuelled to the brim.

Fundamentally, there are not that many differences between the Four and Isha + the Aeldari Pantheon, but when I say that, it's a bit like saying a human is fundamentally the same as a flatworm because we both share some of the enzymes we use in the Krebs Cycle that allows oxygen dependent metabolism.

Kyrazis and co. will never reincarnate. Their souls have been converted into the power necessary for Isha to do what she must, while all their knowledge, experiences, and memories are stored within Isha.

Chapter 13: Battleplans explains what happened when Isha sank her fingers into the Emperor.

Gods were beings of thoughts and dreams, unconscious and conscious.

The brief touches Isha made against the psyche of billions in the Sea of Souls while dancing away from Khaine inspired stories of fae and faeries. Gods were not as impressionable as the unconscious thoughts of mortals, but a serious blow between them would bring their essences in contact. In that moment, images and thoughts, memories and theories would be exchanged between them.

Therefore, a battle between gods could be thought of as a battle between ideals and ideas, symbolized and materialized through their powers and Truths; a violent form of divine debate.

If their Truths were too similar, the battle would become that of Khorne and Khaine who were both gods of war; two answers to the same question. Those two could clash with each other without fear of being infected with the other's Truth. However, that also meant they would never be able to understand or reconcile with the other. Eternal conflict was the only outcome to result from their meeting.

Isha and the Emperor were too different to reject each other like that. Although that left the option for both to learn from the other, they also ran the risk of ending up like Gork and Mork. Those gods were cunning and brutal, but the war-like nature of them and their species brought them into conflict too many times; ruining the both of them and leaving only two lunatics who could no longer tell who was who, becoming cunningly brutal, and brutally cunning.

Regardless, whatever the outcome, neither would leave entirely the same as they were before the battle.

Click to shrink...

Isha decided that it was worth the risk to exchange information with the Emperor, effectively copying the information that lies within his divine form while dumping a whole bunch of Aeldari information onto him.

This will be explained better in the next chapter, but essentially, the Emperor is a hard disk drive (HDD) that's just had almost all its memory space taken up by the information Isha downloaded onto it. Like an overloaded HDD, the Emperor can no longer function properly. The additional information is also interrupting and interferring with almost every part of the Emperor's body and mind.

He has lost control of who he or she is, and is now flitting between persona to persona in an attempt to remain human with all the memories of the Aeldari that have been pumped into him or her.

Likewise, all the information from the Emperor has been copied onto Isha.

Unlike the Emperor, however, Isha has the disk space to store 60 million years worth of memories. The 50 or so thousand years of humanity are nothing compared to that, so she was able to decode and understand everything about the Emperor in a much quicker time-span than the Emperor.

This is visible on her physical form, as her nails have now taken on a golden glow.

This is how small the entirety of humanity's history is compared to the Aeldari.

However, this golden glow is nothing to laugh about. Isha's nails are now varnished with the Truth of the Emperor that Isha has copied and decoded from it, so they rejects the Emperor in an equal manner as it does all other immaterial existences.

Hence the quote below:

Then, the flames surrounding Isha's arms suddenly gutted out. The charred flesh and bones regrew themselves, restoring the white pearly skin of her arms and the soft smooth fingers of her hands. When her nails reformed, the Emperor felt something repel him, just like magnets of the same polarity push each other apart.

Click to shrink...

Isha suspected this would be possible since Chapter 5

"Khaine found my voice displeasing as well." Isha's smile grew wider, her hurt numbing her senses; bitter vengeance spurring her on to have her own petty revenge against the creature who hurt her first. "How did he put it?" She said, putting a finger to her chin in a look of feigned thought. "It was like 'being told, time and time again, that the flames that form the funerary pyres are but a single pop of an undried branch upon which the bonfire of life burns.'"

Click to shrink...

Khaine found Isha's song annoying because it was the reminder that death and war were but one part of the cycle of life, essentially minimizing the importance of Khaine's truth.

Likewise, the fact that the Emperor was irritated by her song suggested that the Emperor's Truth could be incoroporated into her Truth of Life.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N1: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading this chapter before hand.
A/N2: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them.
♪1 Shin Megami Tensei IV OST - Battle C5 - (Archangel Battle)
♪2 Fate/Stay Night: Heaven's Feel OST - The flower will bloom
♪3 BATTLETECH [Soundtrack] 44 - Who Will Watch the Watchers
♪4 01 BattleTech OST - For All Mankind
♪5 Xenosaga Episode III - Godsibb Dual Mix (Original x 2020 reprise)
♪6 This Will Be the Day (feat. Casey Lee Williams)

♪1
"You once pronounced to know the end of my path, God of Heroes. Allow me to prophesize the end of your legend in return."

The Emperor knelt before Isha as thunder rumbled above them. His body was in a state of constant flux, switching from one persona to the next, numbing his body as ancient human after ancient human materialized and then melted away to be replaced by the next.

"But first, I suppose we should agree on what you really are. After all, we are both aliens to each other." Isha laughed to herself, teetering back on the ledge of the crater, as if she had just made a joke.

"The definition of heroes for your followers are multiple and many, but for my children it was always a term to refer to one beloved by one of my family" Isha's silvery eyes seemed to glow under the dark sky, reflecting the ever shifting Emperor before her.

"In ancient times for humanity, when the term had more worth, it meant the same thing for your kind as well." Isha looked down at her right hand, brow furrowing as she clicked her thumbnail against the one on her middle finger, as if trying to flick out a spec of dirt that had been trapped there. Golden electricity arced between her nails as they clicked together, and the light illuminated her face from below.

"Heroes are the arbiters and executors of divine will. They act in our name with our gifts and our blessings. They sing our praise and name to the masses so more will know of our grandeur and Truth. They are the eternal flame that inspires others to follow in their footsteps far far past the time of their demise through their stories and legends. But…"

Isha placed both hands beside her, on the edge of the crater, balancing on it as one would while sitting on a wall. "There is one unbreakable tenant that must be preserved. A hero is not a god and a god is not a hero. Even in your legends, every mortal who achieves true godhood fades away from the mortal realm."

The Emperor's shifting form buckled as his back arched, suffering under the weight of Isha's words. Steam began to rise from his own body, his own Truth beginning to reject and return him to the Immaterium.

"Heracles, Gilgamesh, Ebisu, the lists are endless, but you should be better acquainted with them. After all, it is you who they arrived at in the end." Isha watched the steaming Emperor boredly before whispering something under her breath. The steam gradually receded, and the ever shifting Emperor slumped forwards, drawing in hissing ragged breaths.

"Gods are not meant to exist in the materium." Isha continued slowly, as if choosing her words carefully before speaking them.

"Heroes are those who act in the mortal realm in our stead, doing things through mortal means so those who worship us can stand on their own feet and grow culture, science, and art to further fuel and expand what we are. Gods are, after all, only as great as the beings that worship them." A wistful look crossed Isha's face as she looked up into the ash obscured sky, which swirled and opened up as a tropospheric hurricane formed high above, opening its eye to allow Isha to stare at the starry sky where her children now sailed upon Craftworlds or hid on Maiden Worlds.

"However…" Isha closed her eyes, and the hurricane dissipated back into the black ash clouds it was made of. "As beings of thoughts and dreams, listening to too many prayers and granting too many wishes can be painful and harmful. Even my own children have slight differences in opinion as to what I am, what I look like, and even who my actual consort was. If we listened and granted every single one of their whims individually, it would eventually tear our mind apart from the inside out, and introduce cracks into our body until we are torn to shreds by the very beings that worship us."

Silver eyes turned back to the Emperor, reflecting the ever shifting suffering form in golden armor.

"The hero allows us to focus who and what we are, for it is far easier to grant the wish of just one than those of the many." The Emperor's form stopped on the face of an aged bearded Arab; skin dark from sunburns with thick bushy eyebrows. The old eyes of the Arab returned Isha's gaze with a sullen look. "In a sense, they are our shield and scapegoat from the beings in the mortal realm. Their failures and evils are theirs alone, but their successes are the result of their loyalty and faith in their god. Even if that is not the truth, the masses see it that way; regardless of what the deity in question or their hero wants."

Isha shrugged, and the old Arab disappeared from the Emperor's face, switching to that of an angry woman of Indian descent who was baring her teeth at the goddess.

"They can be our priest or priestess, our autarch or exarch, or simply just one who is beloved by us. We give them the power that is unmatched by all their peers, and they filter and arbitrate what legends to grow and what beliefs to nurture. With every feat or sermon that strengthens what we are, we reward them with a boon, gift, or divine weapon."

The Emperor's sword, still held in his right hand, released a small gout of flames towards Isha at her words, like a dog barking at a stranger. The Aeldari goddess merely glanced at the weapon, before turning her eyes back to the Emperor.

"Only when the hero fails do we fully intervene. Whether it is their dying cry or desperate plea, we are called from our home in the Sea of Souls to assist them, and show the Truth we contain through our miracles; doing the inexplicable and unbelievable."

Isha pushed off the ledge of the crater, landing softly before the Emperor.

"You are so determined not to be a god so you can remain in the mortal realm. Of course, a god of heroes would try to do that. You understand exactly all they suffer, and all they can become. The pain and torment they never share, and that is never recorded in their legends lies within you. So, in order to spare them in this Age of Strife and partially before that, you have decided to shoulder the mantle of hero yourself."

Isha knelt before the Emperor, bringing her silver eyes to the same level as the Emperor's.

"But, you are not just a hero. You are the God of Heroes. That means your Truth must define what is and isn't a hero."

The Emperor shuddered at her words and grimaced in pain, looking down at the ground, but Isha's hand grabbed him by the hair, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"All legends have a villain that must be vanquished, and it is only the stories with the greatest monsters that star the most awe inspiring heroes."

Visions formed and faded in the silvery mirror-like surface of Isha's eyes; familiar stories of many headed serpents and lions with indestructible hides.

"I said you were the God of Heroes, but a better description is that you are the summation of their legends. Thus, to record them in their entirety, you must know everything about them and everything they have fought against."

A cruel smile crossed Isha's face as she watched the Emperor's face twist in pain.

"How does it feel to know the very workings of the monsters you have slain? To see through their eyes as they are sliced apart by the hero's sword or strangled to death by their bare hands?"

The Emperor gagged, then spat out a gobbet of charred blood as an indentation appeared on his neck, as if a giant had wrapped an arm around his throat. Isha observed the replication of the Hydra and Nemean lion's deaths on the Emperor, before releasing him; allowing the psychosomatic wounds to fade.

"I am the Goddess of Life, yet I take power from the death of my children. If I only had the definition of what I was, that would be impossible. It is because I am the cycle that I can do this. What I am flows into what I am not before being reborn again in perfect harmony."

Isha rose to her feet as the Emperor recovered his breath.

"You are the two sides to a battle that never ends. The polar opposite of what you are and what you aren't locked together in one mind."

The Emperor, finally having regained some composure, glared up at Isha. The goddess merely smiled at his scowl. It was endearing to her, like the fearful growl of a lost puppy.

"If you were mortal, you could externalize the evil within you; blame someone or something else for everything that is wrong in the world. In some senses, you do that in your day to day life. How much of your hate against the Aeldari and my family is just catharsis to relieve the stress of what you are?"

The smile left Isha's face as the question departed from her lips, and lightning struck behind her throwing up dirt and ash in a small explosion. There was a momentary silence before Isha shook her head and sighed.

"I guess even you do not know the answer to that question." She shrugged before reaching down and grabbing the Empress, now in feminine form, by her chin. Golden electricity arced where her nails came in contact with the fair skin of the Empress.

"Regardless, as a god. You cannot do that. You must know everything about your Truth, including what it is and what it isn't. And, of course, there is the problem that your divided humanity has always had."

Isha turned the Empress's face to the left and then to the right, inspecting her from both sides.

"The hero on one side of a struggle is the villain of the other. Odysseus was the bringer of doom to Troy, riding inside his false steed of wood and metal. He may have been the Greek's hero, but certainly not the Anatolian's."

Satisfied by what she saw, Isha released the now male Emperor and turned away from him.

"Even your vaunted heroes are the villains in someone else's legend, meaning your Truth itself is a muddled mess, almost unable to tell one from the other depending on whose side is taken. Thus, you are doomed to reflect your divine Truth in all that you will build and become."

A burst of laughter came from Isha's mouth turning into intermittent giggling as she spoke, interrupting her speech periodically with gasps for air.

"What great irony that the greatest hero of humanity can also be perceived to be the most evil, brutal, and violent tyrant it has ever known."

Panting from laughter, Isha turned back to the Emperor, still smirking as she did so.

"No wonder they call you the Anathema. You are everything you hate, everything you despise, yet you cannot stop yourself from continuing down the same path you have walked upon for tens of thousands of years."

Golden armored fingers and talons clenched, squeezing the hilt of the Emperor's sword and digging into the dirt.
♪2
The Emperor was a divine god.

The Emperor was a mortal hero.

The Emperor was the legend's main character and its main villain; whether they be man or monster. It was a walking paradox made flesh that had cheated its way out of the immaterium to enforce its will on the materium.

That was the hypocrisy of the Emperor, and the reason for its inherent instability.

"But, it is because you are composed of such legends that you have power over the Four." Isha continued quietly, momentary mirth now gone and replaced with a solemn expression.

"Every deed you do is recorded in you as an immutable fact. In a sense, your Truth forever grows with every act and deed that is done, growing stronger as your legend grows. Not to mention, what better villain exists than the Ruinous Powers of Chaos for the hero of all humanity to slay?"

The goddess reached down and pinched the Emperor's cheek, shaking his head slightly like an adult would do to a cheeky child.

"Every blow you strike upon them is one that has happened. There is no turning back time or negating that event. They lose what you take from them permanently." Isha chuckled dryly to herself, but her eyes remained wide open, unmoved and empty of mirth. "For creatures that only exist to grow and multiply, you must strike a deep fear in their cores."

Isha tugged one final time on the Emperor's cheek, before releasing him and stepping backwards.

"Although, that toothpick of yours will take the lifetime of every star in this galaxy five times over to gradually chip away even one of them. But, I suppose it would matter little in the Sea of Souls where time has no meaning."

The Emperor's hand tightened around his sword, and the flames on the blade crackled and flared.

Isha ignored both reactions, instead standing to her full height. The ground rippled beneath her feet, like the waves do when some large creature passes under them.

"But was that power worth it, Gilgamesh? Was it worth your travels to my home, and stealing from the Cosmic Serpent?" The face of the aged bearded Arab with dark sunburnt skin and bushy eyebrows returned to the Emperor, gritting his white teeth in anger. "Was learning the basics of legend crafting, and becoming the Anathema to yourself and your purpose worth becoming the Anathema to them and their existence?"

The Emperor drew in a ragged breath and grunted. The face of the old Arab disappeared, returning to the visage the Emperor had when Isha met him. Panting, the Emperor returned the Goddess's gaze.

"I am the sacrifice of more than a hundred human psykers." He spoke slowly, and with every word his shaking limbs stilled and he began to rise from the ground. "I was born to a mortal woman and a mortal father. My name was Neoth. I am a mortal, and I am not a god."

"You are a god, Neoth." That single sentence from Isha forced the Emperor to his knees again with a thud. "Even if your core was so small it required an incarnation before its apotheosis, you are a second generation god just like me. Although, as I said before, you were far more blessed than I ever was."

Isha once again knelt down to reach the Emperor's eye level, and he saw the same swirl of dark green jealousy and black brown hate that mixed within her silvery eyes back upon the Bucephelus.

"You think it was the Aeldari who were given everything; born with a silver spoon in our mouth." She spoke slowly, staring him in the face, unblinking. "But after taking in everything that you are, I must say I am jealous of you." Her eyes reflected his face, but the background and garments were different; showing only a tall man wearing simple tribal garbs standing in a desert. "Your ancient psykers did a good job recovering some of the Old One's knowledge from the Sea of Souls. Of course, the tides of the immaterium itself were kept calm only thanks to the hands of my family and my children."

The image within her eyes changed, now showing a planet devoid of life with large black geometric buildings and arches of unknown purpose that occasionally let out forks of lightning and gouts of flame.

"All of us second generation gods were birthed with the same method; the sacrifice of mortal souls to form a core personality that would later gather legends and power from the Aeldari's thoughts and dreams."

Her voice was almost a whisper, but the hatred within it was sticky and thick, like coal tar.

"Your core came from the willing sacrifice of hundreds of human psykers. The strongest, brightest, and most powerful heroes of every tribe that existed who sacrificed themselves to form the protector they could not be on their own."

Ghostly screams began to ring in the Emperor's ears; feminine wails of pain, loss, fear and anguish.

"My core comes from the sorrows of 3 billion women who would become the mothers of the weapon they wanted. They were impregnated in all manners from forceful to loving by machines, strangers, or their own trusted consorts. They took their children from their wombs, and made them watch as they reforged those babes into tools and sacrifices for their war. They repeated that process as many times as they needed to ensure they knew how I would think and act. Then, they dragged those weeping and wailing women who would form my core to the blazing fires of their God Forges and Soul Engines before injecting each one to the brim with maternal hormones and taking their souls with sacred flames and sacrificial blades."

Thunder roared in the heavens, while the rumble of a volcanic explosion from the ground echoed in the distance.

There was a long pause between them, and the Emperor shifted once again to a different form; the face of a young woman with raven hair in a bob cut appeared.

"You wear your misfortune like a badge of honor." The raven haired woman spoke with a slight Franc accent. "If you were so disgusted with the method of your birth, you should have committed suicide the moment you woke." The woman glared back at Isha, defiantly. "The fact that you didn't shows that you justified the actions that brought you into existence. You stand before me atop the bodies that made you. You, the product of their cruel work, are as much a cause for the suffering of those women as them."

Isha smiled sadly, then she grabbed the Empress by her raven hair and violently dragged her upwards as she stood.

"I am the tears and suffering of every Aeldari mother." said Isha as she looked into the Emperor's eyes. "I am the monster made from their nightmares to fight against the horrors of reality." Ancient battles with unfathomable creatures made of the void of space and the light of stars played out in her pupils, rising out of the depths of her memory. "I am the product of their ancestors' suffering. It is because I went through all that pain and torment that they do not need to ever again. I exist so another me does not."

There was silence between them, interrupted only by the flash of lightning and the roar of thunder. Isha looked at the Emperor, almost pitiably as the woman's face was replaced by his normal masculine one; the face of Neoth.

"You think yourself so unique in your self-appointed martyrdom to your species, but you and I are almost the same." Isha finally said, breaking the silence. "You walk at the forefront of humanity because you know that all others will be found wanting." She chuckled to herself then, before continuing. "Although, it is also your lack of trust that forces you to be here as well. Humanity has been a disappointing species to protect, haven't they?"

The Aeldari goddess leaned towards the Emperor, bringing her lips to his ear, to whisper back its most private secrets and doubts.

"Were they worth everything you gave them, Neoth?" She whispered the same question in the same sad tone from Neoth's memory. "Was it worth seeing what they did with the ancient knowledge of the cruelest and most blasphemous races from the War in Heaven that you shared with them? Was it worth watching them tear themselves and all those you cared about to pieces, drained their blood and devoured their divine flesh in their endless avarice and gluttony? Was it worth watching them create those idealized versions of themselves in your image with genetic sculpting and soul engineering? Or perhaps…"

There was a pause as Isha tittered in his ear.

"You did all that for yourself. Tell me, Neoth. Do you exist only to create problems for yourself to solve, perpetuating your own existence as the savior by ensuring humanity is always in a constant state of disaster?"

The Emperor's arms shook, and his taloned gauntlet attempted to reach upwards, trying to claw at Isha, only to rise halfway and scrape the air in vain. The goddess cast a disdainful look at the Emperor's talons, and dropped her hold on his hair, letting him land at her knees with a thud.

"You accused me and my daughter of dooming the Aeldari." She said as she stepped around him, circling him. "After seeing what you have done, I do not see how you can think of accusing me when your own hands are stained with so much blood."

"But…" Isha said with a finger on her chin. "I can also see that you did not want this outcome." Her voice was pensive this time, quiet and calm with rational thought. "You now suffer for your and their sins. You strive for a better future that is really just a recapturing of their past. You suffer at the sound of my song, precisely because you wonder whether things could have been different."

Isha finished her circle around the Emperor's kneeling form, bowing her waist so they were once again at eye level.

"The path of the hero is but one way life can go. There are other ways to reach the same place, and you've always wondered whether the one you took was the right one."

Her voice took a morose tone, sympathetic and kind.

"You've been afraid all this time, walking endlessly in the darkness with all those behind you, just as blind as any of them but forced to pave the path forwards for no other reason other than no one else would."

Thunder rumbled overhead again as Isha remained quiet, waiting for the Emperor to respond, but the only sound that came from him was the grinding of teeth and the metalling creak and clank of his shuddering limbs.

Isha sighed, and stood upright again.

"There is a way for you to be free of the pain, Neoth. Free from the suffering my song induces."

The Emperor looked up at her, prostrated before her like a sinner before a Sister.

"Become mine, Neoth."

The Emperor blinked, surprised at what was offered, then an even deeper scowl chiseled itself into his brow.

"You would go to wherever I point, only having to rationalize my divine choice in a mortal manner. You would be unfettered from doubt, free from guilt, and utterly obedient to my will. How does that sound? Your kind will be forever immortalized in the cycle of life, ensured to return to the planets I deem worthy of my miracle. I will take care of humanity, as another client race of the Aeldari."

"A slave race." The Emperor hissed back.

Isha snorted. "Are the bacteria that help you digest food in your gut a slave to you? Are the mitochondria trapped in your cells allowing you to use deadly oxygen as an agent for more efficient metabolism a slave to you? No, they are not. You will be as they are, another glorious part of the whole in the cycle of life; eternal, unending, and vibrant."

The goddess's hands rose, cupping the Emperor's face from both sides, nails once again sparking with golden electricity where they contacted the Emperor's skin.

"Your people will be better looked after in my hands than any bureaucrat or governor you could ever instate. They will grow and prosper as another part of the life necessary for my Truth."

Thick green stems sprouted out of the ground around the Emperor, and then split open revealing thousands of sticky red tentacle-like protrusions. Oversized carnivorous sundew plants unfurled themselves, producing sticky droplets of acids and enzymes from their long, bulbous, swollen, red, feeding, tendrils that covered the inside of their leaves.

"Tell me, Neoth. Show me the humanity you wished to recover and rebuild."

—----------------------------------------
♪3
The world grew dark as the Aeldari goddess's plants closed in on all sides around me. But, it was not them that took the light from my eyes.

Whatever Isha had injected into me during our struggle in space was wrapping around my true form within me. I could feel shadowy hands grasping at my shoulders, wrists, and legs. Echoing alien voices whispered into my ears, telling me their stories of alien lives in ancient times.

These were not souls, but simple memories of the Aeldari who had returned to Isha. But, that did not make them any less dangerous. Their personalities remained, even though the soul was gone, and they scraped and scratched at my form, attempting to find some way into what I am and onto my path.

The bricks I laid grind together, as the increased weight placed upon me strains the path.

These shadows are just information, but I cannot decode or understand them.

Their eyes and ears saw and heard things human senses could not.

Their internal organs were not even remotely close to a human's, bearing resemblance to several different species all in the same body. Nerve endings connecting to tissues and systems that have no name in human physiology confuse and confound my attempts to see the way they perceive the world.

These shadows are intelligent, but they have no purpose, no will, no goal. The only thing they do is exist, and the only place within me to exist is upon my path or within myself. Thus, they attempt to worm their way into those places.

As shadowy figure after shadowy figure wraps around me, piling on my like autumn leaves raked together in a pile, or dirty laundry dumped in a hamper, I feel myself slowing down.

'Were they worth everything you gave them?' The old question asked in that sad voice echoes in the darkness.

Were they worth everything?

I do not know.

I fought for humanity as a whole this entire time, but even then I was never sure if that was the right thing to do. It was simply the most utilitarian and the most efficient path to take.

No, it was simply the easiest path. What doubt is there when simple numbers are all that matter?

In this galaxy, one man or woman means little. Even an entire planet's population is nothing but a statistic in the grand scheme of things.

The only things truly priceless are time and knowledge.

Time, because it can never return.

Knowledge, because humanity's only evolutionary advantage is its brain.

Everything else could be replaced, but was it really worth it?

I had almost replaced everything I had and everyone I wanted with what I thought I needed for humanity to survive.

Culture, religion, autonomy, government. All of these would be expunged at the end of my crusade, leaving only the Imperial Truth and the bureaucracy I built to manage it.

However, it would be a bitter reward at the end. Afterall, I had left behind or converted everything else into fuel in order to take the shortest route to even more shortcuts.

Nobody would smile at my work, nor would they rejoice at a job well done by my side.

Why had I done that?

It was all done so I could reclaim the galaxy for mankind, so it could stand alone among the stars.

And why did humanity need to stand alone among the stars?

The federation humanity had built in the past had failed, tearing itself apart and descending into madness. The grand experiment humanity had conducted on itself had failed. They had their chance once already. Why did I toil to give them another?

What did it matter anyways?

My story was done here. Brought low by my pride and underestimation of an enemy I thought had been defeated. The legend of the Emperor ended this day, as well as humanity's autonomy.

But… despite all that, I felt a slight bit of relief.

I am tired… so tired…

As the dark shadows enveloped myself and the path, a small smile crossed my face.

There was a sort of irony with this ending. I had already gone to the Aeldari's pantheon for help once. Although delayed, I had gotten what I had wanted in a sense. I would be eternal, and humanity would be saved. I would finally be free from wandering. You could say this was the answer to a cry for help made tens of thousands of years ago.

There will be no more doubt, and no more questions. As before, there will be only my path, but I will no longer walk before it blind.

No, I will be as blind as always. It will be the decision of where to go that I will be freed from.
♪4
Suddenly, light returns to my eyes.

A semi-industrial city surrounding a central park appears before me. The armor I permanently wear now is gone, replaced by a black turtle-neck sweater and khaki trousers.

I remember this place. It was a scene from almost 15,000 years ago. A small dusty city, built only a few light years from Terra. Cold sleep and sub-light traversal were the only way to get from one habitable planet to the next, and even after reaching their destination several generations were necessary to replicate even the smallest metropolis of Terra.

Warp travel and the STC database would come much later, with all their unpredicted dangers and unimaginable horrors.

The federation colonies of this age, so divided by time and space, were kept together only thanks to the primitive Warp based communication technologies that had been slowly developed since the 3rd millenia. Each new colony devised its own individual system of government, assured partial autonomy by the federation's constitution.

However, the sheer distance between Terra and her colonies meant that control was virtually non-existent.

Furthermore, the many generations required to replicate a post-industrial society meant centuries were spent away from Terra.

Free from past norms and with nothing but fresh ground to build upon, each colony quickly differentiated itself from the others, resulting in cities with completely different cultures and governing systems existing on the same planet.

Rickety democracies and absolute authoritarian rule existed within the same systems. Kleptocracy and corporatocracy stood above hundreds of huddled masses that survived with the barest scraps only thanks to their local communalism and micro-scale socialistic societies that would one day provide the kindling for a peaceful or violent revolution against all those that held them down. But, all of this was unremarkable, for it was only a retelling of the history Terra had already experienced.

Naturally, it didn't take long for war to break out.

But, despite the volatile nature of humanity, there was happiness, fulfillment, and hope.

This was still the beginning of an age of expansion; an age of discovery.

New machines were built from old ones.

New technologies were created out of the remains of ancient pre-history of Xenos species.

But, most importantly of all…

It was an age humanity had made. An age without gods or demons. An age where humanity made their own decisions. An age made of splintered, fractured, constantly bickering worlds with individualistic states all striving for their own personal definition of betterment.

I look around me at the familiar city. This was before Molech. Before the desolation of Terra. Before the creation of the Navigator houses. Before the Abominable Intelligences and the Omnissiah.

Two laughing children run down the street towards me. Innocent souls with so much potential, burning brightly amongst the gloom and doom with loving parents who shelter them from the harsh government and cruel society they live in.

A smile crosses my lips as they run past, then fades as I steel myself for what I know is to come, for high above in the cloudy sky I can hear a high pitched whistling growing louder.

A slow sigh exits my nose, and I close my eyes as a megaton payload phosphex bomb detonates overhead.

When my eyes open, there is only rubble and fire. Every person at ground zero is gone. Children and their parents, people young and old, good samaritans and evil miscreants; all incinerated in an instant. Their souls start to disappear into the immaterium, the manner in which they have died dictating who reaches for them. But, before they fall into the bloody brass claws of Khorne's daemons, my own psychic touch pulls them back, recording everything they ever did and saw into the legend of humanity. This is the way I keep them safe. Even the lowliest pauper has a place in legend, even if it is to serve as the backdrop for the hero's passing. There, they will be safe, immortalized in this image of humanity's barbarity, even if they cannot pass into the Elysian fields.

"This is the age humanity has made." I told myself brushing the ash and dirt falling onto my shoulder.

This is a time of transient peace, broken only by even briefer war. A time where mountainous differences are made out of the smallest molehills, all so birds that have preened and plucked themselves till they become of the same feather can flock together; not knowing or caring that it is their own distant cousins they burn at the stake.

It is a time like any other time in human history.

As I walked through the ruins, recording and recovering every life that was lost at this moment, a wailing man stumbled from the ruins of his home. We were both far from the point the bomb had detonated above, but his home was mostly flattened.

Beneath the cracked cement, broken glass, and twisted rebar a small unmoving hand laid partially buried.

The man continued to wail, blind to his surroundings, blind to his own pain as small shards of glass and wood stuck out of his back.

Gradually, the pained wail took on a different tone. Hoarse cries began to turn into a monstrous growl. But, before the Bloodletter that had been preparing to burst out of his flesh could take hold, my hand landed on his head and a jolt of golden electricity sparked from his eyes, liquifying his brain in an instant and sending his corpse to the ground with a thud.

The man's soul struggled in my hand, before slowly melting into my palm.

This was my role in all of this. A grim reaper of sorts who walked through battlefields, cesspools, and sites of atrocity to ensure the souls of humanity did not fall into the hands of Chaos due to their own base actions.

As I look back on the burning remains of the once vibrant city, my mind casts further back into memory within a memory.
♪5
I came into being eons ago to hold back the immaterial, the unnatural, and the alien.

At first all I did was fight against the predators and daemons that sought to feed on humanity.

Then, when humanity spread so far across Terra my hands could not reach them, I taught, led, and bred with them to strengthen them as a species.

When my attempts at significantly strengthening them failed, I traveled across the Sea of Souls and sought to learn how to better myself to protect them.

After I was rebuffed at the Aeldari's gates, I snuck into their vaunted Webway and stole from Saim-Hann.

Battle after battle against daemons, monsters, Enslavers, Psychneuein, and the shard of the Void Dragon strengthened me; allowing me to scar even Chaos who grew across the galaxy during the same time.

Now, I record everything in the conjoined legends of humanity, and keep their actions from sending their souls to the daemons and Ruinous Powers of the Warp.

I exist to ensure their worlds remain theirs. I fight against the things they stand no chance against.

That is my Truth. That is my path.

So…

Get out of my way.

My hand reaches out, and grabs one of the shadows surrounding me by the throat.

It was as Isha said. I am the legend of humanity. I am their story made manifest. Every monster slain is recorded down to the finest most despicable detail, making me take from both victor and vanquished.

I have defeated Aeldari. My soldiers have slain their warriors, and my own hands have taken their lives.

Therefore, no matter how alien they are, they are but one part of humanity's story, another enemy that has been defeated.

The shadow's neck cracks and silvery streams of information begin to seep out, like threads from torn fabric.

Emotions, far deeper and all consuming than any human one seeps into my mind.

Their elongated ears listened to voices made from the conjoined human-like pharynx and avian syrinx connected to lungs that served only to pump air into blood vessel lined air sacs where the real gas exchange would take place.

Stories in alien tongues and languages describing thoughts and concepts dissimilar but recognizable as love, pain, and suffering echoed in the dark.

I cannot understand all of it or empathize with it, yet I commit it all verbatim to memory.

That is what I have done for countless years, blinding myself to what I recorded within me, all so the path would be unpolluted but still buttressed against all past horrors.

My eyes glare at the next long-eared shadow within reach as the one in my hand slowly disappears.

You all exist within my mind. You are now part of my memories. You are all mine!

Slowly, the submerged path begins to rise, inky shadows pouring off it like muddy waters receding after a flood. The golden path remains unbroken, and I still stand at the forefront.

The recorded alien knowledge begins to flow inside my head. Everything unreadable is thrown into a pile beside me. I cannot destroy it, but I can keep it from distracting me for now.

Isha did not force all her memories onto me. The amount of data here is too small for that. At best, it is merely a record as long as my own. 40 to 50 thousand years worth of billions of Aeldari memories. But, it is not just any information she has given me.

She took the entire legend of humanity, and replicated my Truth within her.

To do that, she would have had to give something equally valuable, like the information I am reciting now.

I can see it… the effect of exchanging information between gods, and that one decoded piece of information serves as a Rosetta stone for the rest.

Shadow after shadow is processed, assimilated into my main body and converted into pure knowledge and data. Everything else is labeled as alien and left to the wayside.

Sweat beads down my forehead as the exertion boils my brain from the inside, but I have pushed through worse. This is but the same process of assimilation when I tore open the Omnissiah's head, and when I entered the remaining neurons of the Void Dragon's brain.

The junk data formed from tens of billions of lives is taxing to wade through, and the sheer volume had slowed my step. But, no more. Even if it is a few millimeters, my right foot moves past the other, and steps on a new golden brick laid out for humanity.

The shadows still cling to my head and body, but my hand is wrapped around the neck of another one of their number, deconstructing and decoding it.

'Were they worth everything you gave them?'

That question doesn't matter.

Worthy or unworthy, big or small, few or many, all of that utilitarian thought can go out the window.

It doesn't matter if there is no hope. It doesn't matter whether there is a point to this. It doesn't matter how many lives Isha's hands might save.

Humanity must exist without gods or daemons. It is their hands that must build their world.

I look upwards, rising back from the depths of my mind, and return to my body.

—----------------------------------------
♪6
Isha watched, as her plants closed in on the Emperor, sticky tendrils waving slowly as they prepared to digest everything they touched.

The Emperor twitched, and Isha's eyes widened.

"Do not…" The Emperor's hand tightened around his sword, then slashed upwards, angled towards his own face, aimed at Isha's wrists. "MOCK ME!" The sword cut through empty air as Isha jumped backwards, only to bring both her hands forwards as roaring flames exploded outwards from the Emperor, incinerating the surrounding sundew. "I am the EMPEROR, MASTER OF MANKIND, and the PROTECTOR OF ALL HUMANITY!" He rose from the center of the flames, all weakness of the limbs gone and fully in control of himself. "It would be better to DIE than SURRENDER to the likes of YOU!"

Isha slashed her nails before her, clawing open a hole in the approaching wall of flames while simultaneously twirling in midair to fit through the hole she opened.

"You will regret not finishing me off when you had the chance; you gloating Xenos witch." The Emperor glowered at the goddess as she landed, unscathed, back on the lip of the crater above him.

Isha's shoulders shook, then she threw her head back, releasing mad laughter.

"Yes… YES!" Isha cried out, as a wide smile spread across her face as she turned back to the Emperor, golden flames roaring in the center of her own silvery eyes. "This is humanity! The arrogant, disobedient, self-destructive race that spurns the hand given to it only to steal what it was gifted freely!"

"Humanity is a species of failures, losers, and fools." The Emperor's face changed, swiftly switching between several different heroes from humanity's past. Heroes who fought, died, and found themselves in the Elysian fields that formed the Emperor's essence. "BUT!" The Emperor's sword swung upwards, pointing at Isha's face. "They always rise no matter how arrogant or ignorant their actions may seem! I have watched them destroy themselves again and again. Yet, they still remain; even if it is in a lesser state. That is their nature, and their strength! It is because humanity can forget the hard earned lessons, and the pain of punishment for their actions that they move forwards without losing their innocent naive hope! That is humanity! That is their power! And they are now mine and mine alone! So long as I exist, they will be saved and so long as they exist I can never be stopped!"

The Emperor's aura expanded outwards, washing over the ground and Isha, causing the tips of her hair to smoulder, as if small embers had landed between the strands. But, soon after, lightning struck right next to him, forcing him to condense his aura back into himself, glaring at Isha as he did so.

"Masochistic madman." Isha laughed, brushing her hair over one shoulder, sending a small plume of smoke that quickly melted back into her hand. "You once pronounced the end of my path, now allow me to return the favor." Her laughter continued to echo around them as she spoke; simultaneously superpositioned sounds both young and old rang out around the both of them. "Listen to the prophecy of the daughter of fate and mother to the giver and dreams and vision." Twin sounds of joy, the twinkling mirth of a young girl mixed with the nasal cackling of an ancient crone separated out from the conjoined laughter, rising in pitch as they traveled past the Emperor and then growing deeper as the doppler effect took hold with their return to Isha. "I am not as precognizant as them, so I will only give you the self-evident prophecy that you already know but ignore with all your heart."

"Even as all hope of progress disappears and only your name holds all of humanity together, you will never stop saving them. You will become what you hate most of all, and the apotheosis you returned from shall claim you once more. That is your fate, and the story of all heroes who eventually walk to the end of their path. Suffer eternally for the sins of humanity and scream forever as they pile worship on your undeserving head. Watch as everything you built and everything you dreamed of dies and becomes what you hate most. A theocracy dedicated to the one and only God Emperor of Mankind. Serve the sycophants. Answer the unquestioningly loyal zealots. Give your Truth to the billions and billions of unremarkable souls that serve without knowing why or what they fight for, and weep when your words fall on deaf ears clogged with prayers."

Isha's mouth smiled softly at the Emperor, but her eyes were wide open, giving her face the look of a predatory grin a wolf has before its prey.

"God or Goddess of Humanity's Heroes, you will forever be the torch in the endless night sky, alone, afraid, and forever leading the masses of humanity forwards even as the endless march grinds their feet to dust. For even in death your duty will NEVER end."

The Emperor snorted at the goddess's prophecy.

"You preach to the converted. I know my fate. I already know that future is one of the most likely possibilities that awaits me. But, I do not care! I do not fight to win! I fight because I must! Even if there is nothing but darkness among the stars, I shall take my place upon the golden throne, and be the burning beacon that shines light into every corner of the galaxy for their sake!"

"Then come, insane god of all mankind!" Thunder roared overhead at her words and the ground beneath both of their feet shifted and growled beneath them as a massive earthquake shook the tectonic plate they stood upon; the quickening movements of a waking newborn within the womb. "Repeat your deeds in vain while illogically hoping for a better outcome. I shall help you reap the bitter harvest that you have sown."

Golden talons closed around the Emperor's sword, as he scraped the auramite claws against the blade of his divine weapon. Fire spread from the sword to the gauntlet, wreathing both in golden flames.

Isha laughed again, high pitched, mocking, and gleeful. "The observers, onlookers, and even your peanut gallery is gone. Now, let the second round of divine debate commence."

The Emperor leapt from the crater, descending upon Isha like an artillery shell.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: Yeah, this is why I left that Chapter title spoiler a couple posts back "[Redacted]". Some people might have thought I was going with the EQ version of the Emperor as the "God of Death" for humanity, because I had Isha almost call him on back in "Chapter 5: Life and Death", but this idea was something I had simmering in my mind for quite a while.

"You aren't just a protector." Isha cooed back at him, minor victory in sight. "You are a god of de-"

Click to shrink...

Main Part: This entire chapter is mostly Isha's monologue, talking about what the Emperor is and how the concept of "heroes" is important in this story's lore. People like Abaddon and Horus, as well as Kharn, Ahriman, Typhus, and Lucius are all 'mortals' who have been chosen by the Dark Gods as their champion to further spread the Primordial Truth of Chaos all throughout the galaxy in a way most befitting to their god.

This idea was hinted back when Isha mentioned Eldanesh in the chapter below;

Isha watched as Eldanesh returned to his council of surviving Seers, preparing to spread hastily made myths and legends; the propaganda necessary to keep the populace's belief in the gods stable.

Click to shrink...

To elaborate on the hypocrisy of the Emperor, he has cheated these rules by making himself the hero that he has chosen, and materialising in the materium as his self-appointed arbitrator of his own will.

Also, as the "God of Heroes" for humanity, the Emperor was hated by almost every other god of humanity because any human that would become their champion would be yoinked by the Emperor at the end of their life.

Yes, he was always an a**hole, but so is humanity in general.

To explain why Isha seems to be laughing and joking so much, just as Isha has gained her golden nails from fighting with the Emperor, the Aeldari pantheon fought with itself in a second "War in Heaven". During that time, Isha has acquired parts of the other Aeldari gods, and they are symbolised here in her actions and voice. Some of the ones that are especially on the nose are...

Twin sounds of joy, the twinkling mirth of a young girl (Lilieath) mixed with the nasal cackling of an ancient crone (Morai Heg) separated out from the conjoined laughter, rising in pitch as they traveled past the Emperor and then growing deeper as the doppler effect took hold with their return to Isha.

Click to shrink...

Isha laughed again, high pitched, mocking, and gleeful. "The observers, onlookers, and even your peanut gallery (<-reference to theatre, for which Cegorach is known for) is gone. Now, let the second round of divine debate commence."

Click to shrink...

However, as will be demonstrated in the next chapter where the 2nd round of debate will occurr, just because she has some of the Truth of the other gods, it does not mean she can use all of their powers.

Also, from the moment I mentioned the word "debate", it was hinted that this fight would have multiple rounds. Debates generally have 2 to 3 rounds with a closing arguments section at the end.

For everyone who thought the Emperor was down and out, the Skaven Underwriter has some words for you...

Stink-stinky red-fish grab-grab man-thing did!

Click to shrink...

Also, as a little reward for everyone who reads these "Writer notes" here's some Thunder Warriror dialogue from the 2nd part of the Chronicle in drafting.

Spoiler: Thunder Warrior Dialogue

Priest: "God exists! If you think of God, even if it is to deny him, he exists! You cannot think of something that does not exist! That is why you faithless cowards are all doomed! God is inevitable!"

Thunder Warrior: "The Ontological argument… You say that something exists because it can be conceived, and because god is perfect it must exist. However, you can understand the concept of 0, can't you? You can understand that there are 0 apples, but you cannot imagine that there are 0 apples for there are no apples to imagine. Therefore, the axiom that something exists simply because it can be conceived falls apart. That's the problem with using semantics and logic to deduce that god exists. They start to fall apart once you begin to apply them to the real world."

"You and I are beings of the material realm. We are as imperfect as the rubble that was your church around us, and your god is a metaphysical entity that exists above all of us, so we could argue endlessly with whether there is or isn't a god using words. So, let's put proof aside, and actually experiment whether there is or isn't a god, shall we?"

"I will begin to squeeze my hand around your head, and we will see whether your beloved god comes down to save you from my grip. Your god will exist if you are saved before your head pops like a grape, and your god will not exist when… well… you won't have to worry about that I guess."

So, did Isha predict the Horus Heresy?
Someone else on a different site asked for more details about Isha's prophecy, so to explain in greater detail...

It is self-evident when considering the Emperor as a hypocrisy of god and hero. Any hero who gains enough legendary status eventually becomes a god as the thoughts and dreams of so many of its species concentrate around them. However, once they become a god, they can no longer exist in the materium, and hence die or disappear into the Sea of Souls.

What this means is that, even if the Horus Heresy never occurrs, the Emperor is fated to die a heroic death and return to being a god. However, as he becomes a god, all his deeds and especially his atheistic Imperial Truth will be warped towards his new perception as a god by his people. Thus, everything he has preached, especially the parts of humanity's autonomy from beings of the Sea of Souls, will come crumbling down on his head. The humanity unified by his hand will only be held together by his name as a god, and the religion his legend has inspired. Humanity will be slaved to him, and he will never be able to free them from himself.

Click to shrink...

The above does not mean he is doomed, however. It is but one possibility that could happen, and the Emperor strives to avoid said possibility every day.
Generations of Gods
Since nobody seems to find this point odd, I'm just going to put this in here. Gods have generations, and they are akin to version or model numbers for the Old Ones. This is completely my own lore, so you won't find anything in canon.

Spoiler: A short summary on the Old Ones' god generation categorization

Class of deities
Non Aeldari: Saim-Hann (AKA Cosmic Serpent), and his three sons
Gen 0: Asuryan, Cegorach
Gen 1: Morai Heg, Vaul, Khaine
Gen 2: Isha, Kurnous, Hekatii, Atharti
Gen 3: Lilieath

Gen 0: Conceptual weapons forged in the Sea of Souls that do not have a specific point in time of their creation due to their nature. Even the Old Ones do not know when they formed. They were simply there and had always been there. The Old Ones however, knew they would notice them when the Aeldari were completed. They are termed 0 because there is no way to pinpoint when they existed, as the concept of 0 is non-existence.
Gen 1: Reinforced natural gods of the original proto-Aeldari species. They are either raw violence like Khaine, or a more basic concept such as fate like Morai Heg. Khaine is Asuryan's brother because the Aeldari were created as a weapon of war. Thus, War must be closely associated to the very being that the Old Ones noticed when the Aeldari were finally complete.
Gen 2: Core personality generated through proto-Aeldari souls created during breeding process of the Aeldari, and god functionality added via mimetic infusion from Gen 1. This was done in order to ensure no god that resented the Old Ones for their treatment of the Aeldari during their creation would exist. The Old Ones knew what they were doing was cruel, so as both a safeguard and industrial efficiency, utilised the pain and torment they knew would be generated during the creation of the Aeldari to foment gods that would be singular in their function, yet devestating in that area.
Gen 3: Mimetic crossbreeding of compatible Gen 2 gods to produce purely immaterium based beings. These are deities that are made to further optimize the Aeldari, and tack on additional functions to them as a species and a divine weapon system. You could think of them as patches or upgrades to software or hardware respectively.

The method of control of most of the gods by the Old Ones was an advanced and engineered form of PTSD, especially in the Gen 2 gods. The fear and torment those souls felt before achieving apotheosis was used to psychologically shackle them to the Old Ones' will.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N1: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading this chapter before hand.
A/N2: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
♪1 01 - Into the Night
♪2 Fate stay night - Presentiment of a Storm
♪3 Hiroyuki Sawano – 「Wrath of The Gods」
♪4 Hiroyuki Sawano - Already Over

♪1
Gilgamesh traveled across the world, but he met with none who could withstand his arms till he came to Uruk. But, even after he took lordship there, the men of Uruk muttered sullenly or sarcastically in their houses, "Gilgamesh sounds the alarm for his amusement, his arrogance has no bounds by day or night. No son is left with his father, for Gilgamesh takes them all, even the children. However, the king should be a shepherd to his people. Yet, his lust leaves no virgin to her lover, neither the warrior's daughter nor the wife of the noble. This is the shepherd of the city; wise, beautiful, and utterly uncompromising."

The gods heard their lament, and the gods of heaven cried to the god of Uruk Anu. "A goddess made him strong as a savage bull, none can withstand his arms. No son is left with his father, for Gilgamesh takes them all. Is this the king, the shepherd of his people? His lust leaves no virgin to her lover, neither the warrior's daughter nor the wife of the noble."

When Anu had heard their lamentation the gods cried to Aruru, the goddess of creation, "You made him, O Aruru; now create his equal; let it be as like him as his own reflection, his second self; stormy heart for stormy heart. Let them contend together and leave Uruk in peace."

-The Epic of Gilgamesh: The coming of Enkidu
♪1END
—----------------------------------------

"Commodore Lysander, welcome aboard the Artax." A man in the dress uniform of an Imperial captain saluted Lysander as he exited the shuttle with the rest of the bridge crew of the Bucephelus. They had just docked at one of the hangar bays of the battleship flanking the Bucephelus. Permission to board had already been requested over the Vox during transit and security personnel were already at the other shuttles, double checking whether those who disembarked matched the passenger manifest of each transport.

"Captain Velor." Lysander returned the man's salute as the bridge crew formed up in rank behind him. This was customary tradition for the navy since before Old Night. The captain of a ship was the commanding officer of that vessel and even an admiral had to at least pay symbolic respect to that fact. Coupled with the fact that the Bucephelus had only been disembarked, the crew of the Artax were treating this entire affair as an unexpected visit and exhibited a more cautious curiosity rather than an adrenaline pumped feeling of urgency.

'Then again…' Lysander thought to himself. 'It might be that out of place Custodes sticking out like a sore thumb behind us.'

The giant in gold armor with a spear longer than he was tall stood behind all of them, markedly out of place among the regular humans. There was a rather obvious look from the captain that flicked between Lysander and the Custodes, as if to ask 'Why is that here?'. Perhaps it was the odd gathering of humans that might have accentuated the surreal feeling of the entire situation.

However, Lysander and the bridge crew of the Bucephelus were all too aware that something was going to happen.

Lowering his hand, Lysander immediately began giving orders. "Escort me to the bridge, and prepare for a fleet-wide Vox." He said hurriedly as he began marching ahead of the captain towards the bridge. Captain Velor blinked once in surprise before frowning and hurriedly trotting after Lysander.

The commodore's words followed custom, but his actions blatantly ignored them. Leaving the captain behind like that ignored who the commanding officer of the Artax was, but the juxtaposition between polite words and urgent action was enough to inform both the captain and bridge staff of the Artax who had come to welcome them that the situation was indeed dire.

"I need medics and security teams sent to take control of all Astropaths and Navigators." Lysander whispered to the captain while also looking at the Lieutenant Commander in charge of the Artax's internal security force. "Sedate, restrain, and quarantine all registered psykers and suspected psykers."

The Lieutenant Commander looked at both the commodore and his captain, and Captain Velor gave him a nod. The man returned the nod before running off to carry out the orders he had been given.

"I want the Gellar fields on this ship and all others activated immediately." Lysander continued as they boarded one of the internal three-dimensional elevators that would take them to the bridge. Thick locking bolts disconnected from the shaft of the elevator once the bridge crew of both the Bucephelus and the welcoming party from the Artax boarded, and the anti-grav generators hummed to life before magnetic rails pushed and pulled the elevator forwards then upwards to the bridge of the Artax.

The captain nodded, and repeated the order through his personal communicator before turning to Lysander with a concerned expression.

"Commodore Lysander, may I ask what is happening?" The commodore's orders were bizarre, but had a definite direction. Gellar fields were the protective barriers deployed during Warp travel to shield against aberrant psychic manifestations. Deploying them in real-space when there were no orders to suggest Warp transit was odd, but added to the fact that the commodore had ordered all known and suspected psykers to be sedated, restrained, and quarantined meant that the commodore was preparing for some sort of psychic event or attack.

Lysander's brow furrowed. The Catumen's presence was not a fact shared beyond those aboard the Bucephelus. Depending on how the Emperor resolved things with it, that fact may never have existed in the first place.

"The situation is on a need-to-know basis, Captain." Lysander answered. "I am setting the fleet's threat level to substantial until we have word from the Emperor."

Captain Velor's mouth became a taut line. A threat level of substantial meant an attack on the fleet was likely. It was grim news just after preparing to celebrate a job well done for purging the Xenos raiders.

The elevator reached the nearest corridor to the bridge and they all exited off of it. Security teams were already returning to their posts as Lysander's previous orders percolated down through the chain of command; from the captain, to the Vox-officer of the Artax, and then to the entire fleet.

"I shall be at the holo-map to coordinate with the rest of the fleet captain. You have the bri-"
♪2
Suddenly, there was a flash of light from the view ports, and a beam of gold, green, and brown light burst out of the side of the Bucephelus narrowly missing the Artax; flying off into space only stopping when it impacted one of the distant moons of the planet they were orbiting.

"Get me a damage report on the Bucephelus and an enhanced image of that moon." Lysander ordered as he stormed towards the holo-map.

The natural satellite was just a spec to their eyes, and he wanted to assess just what they were dealing with by inspecting the damage inflicted upon its surface. The image was swiftly brought up as Velor took his seat in the captain's chair and began barking out orders to ready his ship for battle.

Lysander could feel his jaw clench as he inspected the damage. The beam had cut deep into the moon's crust, and thrown up vaporized rubble into clouds not unlike those generated by a nuclear bomb. Whatever that was it could penetrate the Bucephelus's thick hide and still have enough power to level a small city.

"Order all ships to brace for impact." Lysander ordered the Vox officer as a large psychic signal suddenly appeared on the holomap below their field of view, and fell towards the planet before vanishing beneath the ash clouds. He cast a look at the Custodes who had followed them from the shuttle, but the golden giant showed no emotion whatsoever remaining in the perfect guard position they took whenever they stood still.

Lysander stifled a shiver and turned back to the holo-map. He couldn't tell whether the Custodes' exemplary posture was a sign that everything was fine with the Emperor, or further proof that they truly felt no emotion at all.

—----------------------------------------
♪3
Golden nails clashed against the flaming talons and blade of the Emperor as the Goddess of Life struck back at the Hero of Humanity. Every blow rang with the high pitched screech of a thousand sparks as the Emperor's Truth repelled itself, rising to a crescendo as the repulsive forces became too much for Isha and the Emperor, forcing them apart like magnets with the same polarity with a resounding boom.

However, as soon as the Emperor's armored boots touched the ground he launched himself at Isha again.

Moments later, lightning struck where he lept from as well as several other places around them.

"You insane witch." The Emperor growled as he struck at her with both sword and talons from two different directions to avoid being bound in the same way by the tree bindings she had used on the Bucephelus.

"Oh, spare me your complaints." The goddess replied mockingly as she swung back at both weapons while hopping away from him. "Your Truth is far more unfair than any underhanded trick I could ever pull."

The Emperor grimaced as he lunged forwards again chasing Isha.

Lightning struck all around them, pelting the ground like rain, but the Emperor's Truth could not negate them for they were not an unnatural phenomenon.

Isha had whipped the winds of this planet into a frenzy while she lectured the Emperor about his nature and the ash clouds above them were filled to the brim with electric charge. The only reason lightning did not strike where Isha stood was because she willed it. Everywhere else was outside of her protection.

The ground had rumbled at her feet as well during her monologue. No doubt she had done something to the very dirt and rock beneath them.

Therefore, the Emperor was forced to rein in his aura, for to disturb Isha's control meant all that built up electricity in the sky would be unleashed upon the both of them in an instant. And that was the only trap he knew she had set for him.

Even if they were both struck by her lightning, it would not be an even trade. It had been prepared by Isha and there was no way she would allow her own trap to hurt her more than it would hurt him. If the Emperor annulled her immaterial touch, even if the lightning struck them at the same time, Isha would be the one who would have the advantage from that point.

And most of all…

The Emperor side-stepped Isha's nails and lunged even closer towards her with both arms raised over his head. Flaming sword and talons swung down upon the goddess, forcing both of her hands to rise to meet his weapons. Golden sparks arced as golden nails repelled both of the Emperor's weapons, but even as the Emperor's own Truth tried to force them apart, the Emperor shifted his full weight down upon Isha, shoving her downwards causing the repulsive force between them to drive her feet into the ground, forcing her to stand still.

Pinned between the ground and the weight of the Emperor, Isha grimaced before creating a green-brown barrier between her and the Emperor as his armored knee drove upwards to her chest.

Isha's barrier deformed upon contact with the Emperor's knee guard, like a pillow being struck, enveloping and dissipating the force of the blow, but it also began to smoke and smolder where the Emperor's golden armor touched it.

…The Emperor had the advantage at this range.

Isha was not a deity of war. She could fight, for she had the memories of billions and billions of Aeldari warriors, but none of them fought in the way she was forced to right now; with only her nails and no other part of the body. She could not create a martial art or combat stance from nothing, and it was only her inhuman reaction speed and advanced alien biology that allowed her to keep up with the Emperor.

Furthermore, the Emperor's Truth was expressed throughout his entire body. For Isha, it only showed on her nails.

That was to be expected. Isha was a being 60 million years old. The Emperor was only 50 thousand years old. In terms of percentages, the Emperor had only existed for about 0.083% of the time Isha had. That difference in their existence materialized upon their bodies.

All of humanity's legends amounted to a thin layer of nail at the very tip of her fingers.

But, that in itself was a weakness.

The Emperor's Truth negated beings from the immaterium, just like Isha. Thus, any blow against her body would damage more than just her physical form.

Her body was a representation of all the information stored within her. The fact that humanity's legend expressed itself upon her nails was proof of that. It was only the fact that her entirety was condensed into this single Aeldari form that the Emperor's immaterial negating Truth could be resisted. The sheer density of Isha's essence acted like folded steel in reinforced armor and that fact was what caused his talons to only scrape harmlessly against her skin when he grabbed her back on the Bucephelus.

It was only the enchantments on the Emperor's sword, the enchantment he had applied to his talons when he scraped them against the blade, the enchantment that allowed him to slay the Void Dragon that allowed his weapon to pierce her skin with ease.

However, that did not mean she was immune to him entirely. Every blow, like the kick she had just blocked, would damage her. Just as a warhammer or mace would send shockwaves through a knight's armor that would bruise the body and break bone, any physical blow by the Emperor that was strong enough could damage the information within Isha. If that damage built up, part of her would be lost permanently.

For that reason, given the choice, Isha would always expend psychic energy to protect herself from him, and any battle between psychic energies would always favor the Emperor.

This was still a battle of stamina.

He could regenerate his power as many times as necessary, but Isha was stuck with a constantly depleting reserve. However, just how large that reserve was unknown to him.

The amount of power she had gained from the Aeldari souls was still a mystery. Simple mathematics, even taking into account the fact that she had consumed them could not explain her current strength. There was some other trick Isha had. But, the information Isha had forced upon him had yet to reveal what it was.

"This is the limit of a god." The Emperor spoke to Isha, as he forced her arms downwards, bringing his talons and sword closer to her neck and shoulders. "You're all so fixed upon your own Truth and message, flaunting impossible idealism and placing impossible expectations on all who listen to you." Their faces drew close, as the Emperor's weapons inched towards Isha's skin. "But, in the end, you're all no better than the mortals you look down upon."

"Is that so?" Isha replied, pained smile twitching as her arms strained to force back the Emperor. "You think I fight for reasons no different to a mortal?"

Suddenly, the ground beneath the Emperor gave way, causing his one legged balance to shift. Simultaneously, Isha swayed, like a blade of grass bending with the wind. The Emperor's blows that had pinned her from above shifted to the side, releasing her from the downward force he applied and Isha used the built up repellant force between his weapons and her nails to shoot herself away from him.

The Emperor charged forwards, chasing Isha so he could fall under the zone of safety she made for herself, but lightning struck him twice before he could reach it. The electricity charred his flesh and shorted out some of the electronic components within his armor turning parts of it into dead weight, forcing him to power through with just his burnt muscles and telekinetic force.

"Then what do you call all this?!" The Emperor shouted as he shot forwards, blackened skin and broken armor repairing itself as he flew towards Isha.

"You struggle against me all alone, wasting the power you took from your people's souls in this mad tantrum against me." He sent out a pulse of his psychic touch through the ground, removing any trace of Isha's presence to solidify his footing, only for his boot to fall through a sinkhole that had been held shut by her power. "You would have done more damage, had you waited until we were both upon Terra!" A burst of telekinesis lifted him out of Isha's pitfall, and he threw himself at her again, psychic aura fully retracted into himself this time. "If this outburst isn't one of rage or pride, then what is it?!"

"I fought you then, for I saw no other way to get through your thick skull." Isha retorted as she ducked under the Emperor, slashing upwards and forcing him to block her blow. "I fight you now, fully justified in my first decision." The repulsive force between her nails and his weapons threw the Emperor over her, forcing him to use more psychic energy in order to redirect himself in order to remain within Isha's boundary of safety. "You truly know nothing but violence and power. Over your 50,000 year existence, you haven't changed from that tribal barbarian who had barely started crawling out of a cave to live in a hut!"

"Simple insults and confounding words will get you nowhere!" The Emperor snarled as he angled his flight path to clash with the goddess again,

"My words sting because they are the truth!" Both of the goddess's arms rose to intercept the Emperor, who was flying low to the ground in order to avoid being deflected again. "What other ways can I use to describe you, Gilgamesh?!" The two clashed again, but Isha allowed the Emperor to force her backwards, using her nails to hold onto both of the Emperor's flaming weapons to prevent him from landing and using his armored feet to strike her again. "What other words can I use to describe a tyrant who was so horrid to his own people, they birthed a third generation god just to hold him back?!"

"SILENCE!" The Emperor roared as he gathered his psychic energy into a ball before his brow. "You shall not speak of him with your accursed tongue!" His words lashed out at her at the same time the beam of golden light exploded towards Isha's face.

"I know him now just as well as you do!" Isha shouted back, bending her neck sideways to avoid the golden bolt shot by the Emperor, letting it crater the ground behind her. Her feet slid into the depression left by the blast, lowering her elevation for a brief instant, allowing her to position herself beneath him once again to redirect the repulsive force between them and throw the Emperor away from her. "If you are so bitter about that fact, delve into what I was forced to give you and retort in kind!"

"Then tell me, GODDESS! Tell me what I was supposed to do!" The Emperor crashed down into the crater, digging his boots into the obsidian glass made by his attack. "The unshackled daemons of the Warp, wild Enslavers, Psychneuein, and insane Warp based weapons roamed the immaterium!" He charged forwards on foot, assured that the ground he stood upon had been cauterized of Isha's touch. "Garbage left from your war threatened my people!" More psychic beams formed behind him and fired around Isha, creating a corridor with striated walls of golden death that lead from him to her. "Every human that roamed that planet was blind after the best and brightest of them sacrificed themselves to form me!" The Master of Mankind struck with his blade first, with his talons only 0.1 seconds behind. "If they were to survive in this merciless galaxy, what other choice did I have but to treat them that way?!"

"You speak of choice, but even the Old Ones didn't bother to justify their actions!" Isha snarled as she stepped back, swinging her hands to deflect both strikes while backing away from the Emperor before vaulting even further backwards away from another kick "You mimicked their methods, yet were stupid enough to ask whether that was right or wrong!" Her hands struck out at two of the psychic beams that were above her, deflecting them and opening up the cage bars she was trapped in with the Emperor wide enough for her to slip through. "You think what they did, what you did could ever be forgiven?!"

"I did what had to be done!" The Emperor shouted back, firing more and more psychic beams slightly below Isha forcing her to fly upwards into the sky. "You were not there, and nobody else would act!" A psychic barrier formed above him, just in time to block a bolt of lighting from striking him directly. "My mother died in childbirth, and my father was murdered by his own brother! You want to know the reason?!" Golden beam after beam chased Isha in the sky until she was nearly above him. "He stabbed my father all because one sheep would not stop nibbling at his fields!" The Emperor let loose his full aura, negating Isha's protective boundary, unleashing the lightning above them both. However, Isha was between him and the sky, and the electricity would strike her first before hitting the Emperor's barrier. What's more, with her detached from the ground, she would have no way to earth herself or summon a lightning rod to protect only herself from the storm. He would break through her trap, and hit her with her own weapon at the worst possible timing.

"That's how easily they killed each other, and how little power any so-called deity of humanity had!" The sky lit up pure white as all the charge in the natural capacitor formed by the ash clouds above them was unleashed in a single instance. "All it would have taken was one exhausted sigh, or an irritated long breath! One simple intake of air would have given him the 2 seconds he would have needed to reconsider his actions! But, even that simple small miracle was impossible for them! They couldn't stop that man from thinking about what he was doing for even a second any more than he could stop himself before he drew his knife and stabbed it into my father's back! What else besides useless and stupid am I supposed to call beings who can't even do that one simple thing!"

The Emperor's breath was heavy from the emotional outburst and mental strain at keeping the barrier above him whole as everything around them was replaced by the white light of the streams of lightning tearing everything around them to shreds. Finally, the barrier broke allowing the lightning to fry the Emperor and his armor; carbonizing both flesh and metal with the sheer volume of electrons coursing through him in their mad rush to the opposite pole deep within the earth.

"That… is why humanity needed order at that time." The Emperor said telepathically as his flesh and armor reformed themselves as the storm ended. "That is why I ruled over them without mercy or forgiveness and attempted to enhance them with my own genetics and knowledge."

There was a thud, and a charred humanoid thing with golden hair landed beside the Emperor. "Words are a funny thing" Isha spoke as her throat and lips reformed, the physical portion of her being reforming over the undamaged invisible metaphysical self. "Phrased like that, you seem the savior, but all you did was enslave and rape the less gifted and the less fortunate."

Several nearly invisible golden strands of hair pulled themselves out of the ground, and back to Isha; earthing wires individually insulated with the Emperor's Truth and disguised among the strands that remained her natural hair color to direct the electrical currents of her lightning into the ground away from her. They had prevented her from being vaporized by her own lightning, and would have allowed her to minimize the damage had she been able to earth herself with her feet as well. However, chased up into the air by the Emperor, her countermeasure was only partially effective. Thus, the damage done to both of them was almost equal.

However, Isha's body regrew faster than the Emperor's body and armor. He had two different systems to repair while she only had one.

"But, it was as I suspected. Humanity had other gods besides you. All races usually have several at the same time." Isha said, as her skin regrew across red muscles. "Pantheism through panentheism. The perception of gods through the wonderment at all the beauties and horrors life has to offer. They are the first attempts at rationalizing a mysterious world that expands far beyond what the mortal eye can see." A short note came from her lips, wrapping her in a white Wraithbone shift once again. "You were both hated and cherished by the first gods of humanity, for you were formed from all the heroes that had represented them, yet were destined to claim all of their future champions for yourself."

"They were useless." The charred remains of the Emperor retorted again telepathically as the burnt lips stretched out over his still white teeth grew full and moist with new blood and tissue. "They did nothing with all the power humanity gave them." He spat with his reformed mouth.

"Such is the fate of most first generation gods of a divided people. They are formed from the most basic thoughts and dreams of a species." Isha stretched out her fingers as her nails reformed, golden sparks crackling as she manifested the Emperor's Truth back onto her nails. "They listened to all the prayers of humanity, but because they did so they could not act in any meaningful way." She snorted and her knees bent in preparation to pounce upon the still reforming Emperor. "How can Kyzaghan of the Huns act against Greek Mars or Roman Ares if they are all the same thing?"

"They were born with humanity, and although humanity separated out into several tribal groups, the gods remained the same." Burnt armor creaked as the joints fused together from the lightning strike strained to break free. "But, all they did was listen." A golden glow surrounded the Emperor, and he lifted himself up with his own telekinesis and threw himself away from the goddess, having lost the race to repair himself to completion. "They stood by and watched as brother killed brother and distant cousins committed genocide on long forgotten parts of their own family tree."

"A just criticism, if you weren't the one who sowed so much misery yourself." Isha muttered as she gave chase. "It would have been better to have been the observer than the instigator of such suffering."
♪4
"I was a god among men, but yet I was still a man. The legends remember me as two-thirds divine, and they were correct in part. My body was already bursting at the seams with the amount of power humanity's combined consciousness gave me, focussed upon my essence by my deeds and legends of that time."

Multiple golden beams of psychic power fired out directly at Isha from before the still burnt form of the Emperor as he repaired his fused armor and blackened body.

"So you enslaved and subjugated them all, as any other mortal ruler of prehistoric humanity would, becoming the leader they would all aspire and follow." Isha sidestepped the Emperor's attack easily, but that was his intent in the first place. He was buying time by firing too many beams for Isha to block, forcing her to take an indirect and hence longer path to reach him.

"Of course you would do that as a man of that time." Isha hissed as she avoided the next salvo of the Emperor's attacks, forced once again to take a path in a wide spiral to approach the Emperor. "Why allow the lesser of your species to fail themselves when you could elevate them to greater heights? All others were only a fraction of your age at the time, and through sheer experience, you were the wisest and strongest of all. But, you were just another barbarian king lording over all those weaker than you. You even followed the actual ius primae noctis (the right of the first night) they practiced at the time unlike those medieval feudal lords. Truly barbaric, to take the virginity of every woman to show your dominance over both sexes."

"A failed experiment." The Emperor snorted. "I simply sought to reintroduce the genes from the psykers who made me back into the gene pool of humanity."

The joints of his armor finally came free, and he clasped his talon as he stretched out his arms and legs.

"The people prospered under my rule. Humanity formed its first empire and they grew with the wisdom I inherited from all the psykers that made me." He turned his eyes towards Isha, fully restored. "Although, it was all for nothing in the end. There was nothing of note from any of my spawn."

"Do not paint yourself as a misogynist." Isha retorted sarcastically as she continued to close the distance between her and the Emperor in a gradual spiral arc. "You heaped equal evils unto the men and children of Uruk. Forced labor for your city. Experimentation to find ways to better mankind's biology. Sacrifices for your arcane arts to investigate the immaterium. Of course, if you had a way to know whether women were barren with the technology you had at the time, you would have used them in the same way as men. No wonder the people of Uruk dreamed of a god that was your equal in all things that would free them from you."

The Emperor closed his eyes bitterly. "Enkidu, the star of heaven, the man who was my equal in all things."

"The first sightings of him were by the trappers of the city. The lowest social rank within your empire, and the ones who were oppressed by both you and all those who followed you." Isha continued as she avoided another salvo of the Emperor's beams. "Humanity enjoys tasty beef and succulent pork, yet the cattle and pig are the names of both animals and insults. As always, it is those who work to produce the products of livestock that end up at the lowest social rung of humanity; Buraku, Dalit, tanners, and other such 'untouchables' often arise from that occupation; forced to deal with the dirtiest parts of the work of hunting or herding."

"I was warned of his coming by the gods that still favored me as the remains of their mortal heroes, and I saw him with my own foresight. He would be my equal. The common people would jostle and the nobles would throng to kiss his feet." The Emperor shrugged as he fired another volley of beams towards Isha. Her trap in the sky and ground had both been sprung or destroyed. The balance of power that had been kept equal between them thanks to her tricks and preparation was falling towards his side. However, even though she was weaker than him in direct melee, she was still running towards him.

He fired another volley to force her to take the long route to reach him. Foolish this goddess may be in his eyes, but he had been bitten too many times in the past few hours. She still thought she could win. That was why she approached him.

"Poor young Neoth, grown into Gilgamesh after witnessing the worst parts of humanity as a homeless traveler journeying from one end of the globe to the other." Isha called out mockingly. "Still just a mortal, you craved a companion to share your burden and joy. As a being born from humanity, it was inevitable their laziness and loneliness would be part of you."

"I sent a priestess of the temple of love, Shamhat. A holy harlot who would take that fomenting god and give it a body through her own." The Emperor recited the old legend, almost reflexively as Isha's words resonated with his memories. "I sent her beyond the gate of real and not real, and she took in all of Enkidu from the wild Warp into her just as my conjoined soul entered my mother."

"And Enkidu was born into the realm of man. A god plucked from the immaterium with the express purpose of being your equal." Venom dripped from Isha's words as she closed within 100 meters of the Emperor.

The Emperor shifted sideways, positioning himself so his body would always face 45 degrees away from Isha in a one handed tail guard with his gauntlet lifted before him like a shield as Isha drew closer. The flames on his talons had gone out, dispelled when his barrier was broken by the lightning. However, he would not need it. If Isha came to him by herself, all he would have to do was concentrate his aura and Truth into an omni-directional shockwave that would reject the immaterial entirely, and then stab or cut her with his enchanted blade as her unnatural essence would be paralyzed with pain underneath her physical body as she suffered under the effect of his Truth.

"I thought to raise him up as my own, but he emerged from the gate with Shamhat fully grown."

"And you fought with him, for he was to be your equal in all things." Isha smirked as she watched him lower his position, and her fingers spread and curled in preparation to strike. "Finally, you had met a being that was not some obscene threat that was so powerful you had to cheat and trick your way to victory, nor was it some lesser creature that needed your protection."

"We shattered my primitive laboratories and destroyed the walls of my palace with our struggle. The people of Uruk flocked to see their tyrant brought low, but it was I who finally threw Enkidu to the ground."

10m. That was the remaining distance between them. The Emperor gripped his sword, keeping the flaming blade obscured behind his thick pauldrons, taloned gauntlet, and armored girth so Isha would not see whether he would strike from above, below, or the side.

"Even as a tyrant, the people saw you as their savior. Thus, as the god born from the wishes of the people of Uruk, Enkidu was preordained to lose despite being equivalent to you so long as they felt they needed you."

Isha feinted once, sidestepping backwards instead of forwards to avoid the last salvo of psychic beams before lunging forwards.

"He was my equal, my companion, my brother. He knew me in my entirety, and fought against me regardless."

The Emperor's tail guard was exposed. He faced Isha head on instead of slightly to the side, and his sword's trajectory would not be hidden by his taloned gauntlet and girth. However, it would not matter. Isha was not entirely immune to his Truth. Victory was almost his. It would merely take two more sword swings than he planned.

"You were the mortal on the verge of godhood who would stand at the forefront as the hero of humanity. He was the god made man who listened to all those who followed you and walked among the people instead of infront of them."

Sword met nails once again, knocking Isha's left hand out of the way. The Emperor's shockwave would be let loose with the next blow. The goddess's right hand would be knocked out of the way with his sword, and the other would be prevented from returning as the shockwave would petrify her. Then, the final blow would strike her head unimpeded by her nails, and impossible to avoid under the force of his Truth.

"He gave voice to the people under my rule, and made their bleating complaints into coherent arguments that I could listen to."

The Emperor's eyes widened as he heard a whistling sound, and he reformed his psychic barrier just as Isha jumped backwards away from him. Milliseconds later, a massive shadow blackened the sky as a small mountain's worth of rock and dirt crashed down upon him.

"Yes, he taught you many things during your adventures." Isha spoke to the mound of black volcanic rock and ashen dirt. "But, it was his death that put you on the path to learn what would truly form your Truth as a god." The mound shook, then exploded as the Emperor launched himself out of it, floating above her. "You carry the emotional scars from that event even to this day with the hair upon your head as an eternal memento."

White teeth bared, the Emperor let loose the shockwave he had been storing in a golden explosion, like a blazing star going supernova.

"As your hand grew softer, the prayers that made Enkidu began to diverge. The simple wish of freedom from oppression became a convoluted mix of conflicting desires." Isha stepped back and the ground opened up to swallow her, physically shielding her from the shockwave that was targeted at only the immaterial. The goddess had been slowly regaining control over the ground that had been cauterized by the Emperor's earlier attacks as she ran in the long spiral towards him. However, her voice soon returned as several holes opened, echoing up from an interconnected network deep underground where the Emperor's Truth could not reach, hiding where she was.

"The various classes and individuals of the unified society you made sought out their own definition of betterment, and they tore apart Enkidu's mind as he was forced to listen to every single one of their cries, for he was an actual god unlike yourself although he was your equal."

"Do not speak to me as if you know what I felt!" The Emperor roared as he fired a psychic beam into each and every one of the holes below him. "Your kind cannot choose between which one of your followers to kill and which ones to save! That's why the gods of humanity could not act, and why you let the Aeldari Fall!"

Images and flashbacks of Isha's own memories crackled before the Emperor's eyes as his decoding of the information Isha had burdened him with proceeded another percentage point. He saw partial fragments of the moment Isha activated the edict, removing the choice of which children to save and which to kill from her hands.

"You told me it was I that was blessed, but how dare you say that to me after seeing all of what I have been through! You Aeldari were never divided, never broken apart. The one war your kind waged against itself merely mirrored what was happening in the Sea of Souls."

The Aeldari had only truly warred with itself once, and even then they did not split their gods between themselves. Every other conflict was a minor scuffle or fight, too insignificant to affect the totality of the Aeldari and their empire. All that the Dark Muses had inspired and the social decay that destroyed their culture did not affect the gods either, for it was Slaanesh who fed on those concepts as She who Thirsts gestated within the Aeldari.

Humanity, on the other hand, had committed untold atrocities upon themselves with and without gods. Their nature was partially one of self-destruction and strife, even though they all stemmed from a common set of ancestors that had migrated from Africa to the Middle-East. That first group of humans laid the seeds for the subconscious of all modern mankind, and the deities they shared remained the conjoined concept of all humanity, even as they separated across the globe.

"Can you imagine what it was like, watching the one person you truly cared about splinter and crack as humanity bickered with itself before butchering their neighbors? Can you imagine what it was like, hearing the hundreds of different prayers asking for the destruction of a people who were only several generations away from sharing the same parents who worshiped you in the same way?"

Beam of light after beam of light descended upon the earth, tearing everything apart as the Emperor bombarded the land with his hate no longer aiming at the holes made by Isha, but simply destroying everything that was below him.

"You know nothing of what it was like to be a real god. How could you, for you are nothing but another weapon of the Old Ones." He snarled. "Being a loving caring god is worthless, for you are bound to inaction by the very people who scream all your different names. Worshiping any god is worse, for it is nothing but self-satisfaction that justifies all brutality." Finally, the bombardment stopped as the Emperor glared at the ground now obscured by clouds of dust and dirt. "Therefore, I am not a god. I am the Emperor, and my Imperial Truth is the only way reality will be perceived!"

"This is why I call you a tribal barbarian, Neoth." Isha's voice whispered upon the wind, causing the Emperor to instinctively turn behind him, just as another hole opened far off in the distance in the opposite direction to the Emperor's eyes. "The moment you returned to the mortal realm as one of their number, you reverted to your oldest and basest tendencies that you showed as Gilgamesh." The Wraithbone barrel of a massive gun emerged out of the earth before firing Isha out of it at the Emperor, destroying itself with the recoil. "The only part you do not replicate is your lust." She spat as her nails collided with the Emperor's sword as he whipped around from her momentary distraction to meet her. "What happened to your dream of autonomy from the unnatural, Neoth?! What happened to the memory of Enkidu!"

"XENOS WITCH!" The Emperor roared as the two of them once again fell from the sky and cratered the ground.

"Allow me to remind you of his dying words." Isha hissed as the two once again entered vicious melee combat.

"I curse the gate, the portal between man and not man!" Isha repeated Enkidu's dying words, the three part curse and blessing he sang out as he broke apart in the Emperor's arms.

The Emperor growled, but the memory of the man that was his brother could not allow the curse to be left alone. "I love the gate, for it was through it I met you!" The words were forced from his mouth for he could not leave the words of the god and man who loved humanity as much as he did end in bitterness.

"I curse the trapper, let him catch the least, make his game scarce, make him feeble, taking the smaller of every share, let his quarry escape from his nets, for it was he who told the world of me!" Isha shouted out the next line, striking the Emperor across the chest as the old emotional wound distracted him.

"I love the trapper, for it was his fear that led him to you! His cry brought me from the wild, and it was his eyes that saw me first!" The words cursing the first man to wish for a savior from Gilgamesh were annulled by Enkidu's own words as that wish was what brought Enkidu to life, and his brother; even though it eventually led to his death.

"I CURSE THE HARLOT!" Isha shrieked the words Enkidu shouted out as he bled from the mouth and his muscles melted under his skin. "For it was through your body and words that I became a man! There shall be no roof over your head. Let your business be in places fouled by the vomit of the drunkard, and your bed shall be the dunghill at night! Brambles and thorns will tear your feet! The drunk and the dry will strike your cheek and your mouth will ache! Be robbed of everything as you robbed me of all the treasures I wished for in the wilderness!"

"I LOVE THE WOMAN!" The Emperor shouted back, remembering the tears of regret and shame in his brother's eyes as he struggled to love humanity even though their cries tore him apart. "The mouth which cursed you shall bless you! Kings, princes and nobles shall adore you! The priest will lead you into the presence of the gods! She who taught me to eat bread fit for gods and drink wine of kings! She who gave me glorious Gilgamesh for my companion!"

With a final explosive strike the Goddess of Life and God of Heroes forced each other apart. Both breathed heavily, exhausted from reliving the pain and suffering of a god torn apart by mortal hands.

"And so…" Isha spoke first, recovering her breath faster than the Emperor. "You held Enkidu for 12 days as he rotted away, torn apart by all the thoughts, prayers, and dreams generated by the great deeds the two of you did as your equal in all things for the sin of simply walking with the populace instead of walking in front of them."

"And I mourned and howled his name for days on end." The Emperor replied, reliving that moment in time again. "I grabbed every coppersmith, goldsmith, and stone-worker to make a golden statue for him adorned with lapis lazuli on his breast. I forced every prince and king to bow at his statue and kiss the dirt at its feet. I made every man woman and child of Uruk weep for him, and forced all those joyful to stoop with sorrow."

"A vain effort." Isha snorted. "You cannot make mortals believe something so easily. Even all their prayers would not save him, for the thing they would have called out for the most was freedom from your tyranny, and even in his death Enkidu provided that to them."

The Emperor glared at Isha, but the hate in his heart was quelled by long forgotten nostalgic sorrow.

"He truly loved all humanity, even as he cursed them for his death." Isha continued. "You carry his love with you, even to this day."

"After his death, I grew my hair long and wandered the wilderness for 7 days and 7 nights in nothing but the skin of a lion that got in my way as a warning to all of its pride until the worms began to feast on my brother's flesh. Only then did I give his body back to the Earth." The golden talons of the Emperor's left hand touched the long locks of raven hair that hung from the Emperor's head. This was the eternal momento he kept of Enkidu.

"And as your equal in all things, you knew his fate could always be yours." Isha's position relaxed, allowing her spread and curled fingers to fall back into gentle curves. "You march at the front of all humanity, but all it requires is one call from behind you to turn your head over your shoulder, one moment of true empathy or regret, and then you would be at the end of the line and not in front of it. For all would follow your lead, and turn in the same direction as you, reversing the direction of your procession. Then, it would only be a matter of time before Enkidu's fate became your own."

"I left Terra to find a way to save myself and bring back my friend." The Emperor muttered, staring at nothing. "I traveled across the Sea of Souls, and searched for the longest lived and most ancient deities as well as those deities most associated with death."

"And after your meetings with many beings beyond your understanding, you washed up on the gates of my home." Isha sighed as she watched the events of the past through the eyes of the Emperor.

"When you did not let me in through your bolted doors, I broke into the infinite passageway that you called the Webway. I wandered endlessly before finally finding what I was looking for, and despairing."

Isha crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Emperor.

"We exist as long as we do mostly thanks to the long memories of my children's reincarnating souls, and the stories that they hold in their minds and genes. Genetic memory and mimetic transmission of legend kept us what we were, as well as the efforts of my beloved Eldanesh to make sure all our stories were pure and sensible."

"You mean propaganda and lies." The Emperor spat, hateful fire returning to his eyes as he began to rouse himself from memory. "Legend crafting. The creation of culture to mature and modify the gestalt thoughts and dreams of an entire race."

"And the method to record all that information within the deity in question, to serve as a buffer to what it was and what it was not." Isha spoke while tapping her own skin; the impossibly hard skin formed as a representation of 60 million years of Aeldari culture and history. "You've managed to externalize those concepts, making your deed a manifest fact upon the immaterium. Let me guess, that part of your power was the real prize you pried from the Void Dragon's mind?"

"Along with the theories for the Dolmen gates, I learned their secrets of chronomancy and entanglement. Now, all I do is made real, and all I have done remains so!" The Emperor's sword roared as the flames shot out of the blade as the anger of being forced to relive his most painful and shameful moments flowed through his entire essence.

"Yet, with all that power, you could do nothing as a god." Isha smirked as the Emperor turned towards her. "You are the God of Heroes, and so it is only through heroes that you can act, and with all humanity divided and endlessly warring with itself, no one hero could ever serve you as you wished. You could give them all your powers, but they would not follow your word. The first act they would do with your blessing would be to cull all those who would stand against them, including any other would be heroes who would become part of you at the end of their story."

"And I was stuck for several decades, watching them break apart the empire I left when I traveled to the Sea of Souls and achieved the godhood destined to me." The Emperor glowered at Isha with a renewed personal hate for her. "There, I was stuck with the rest of the gods of humanity in the immaterium, equally powerless and equally suffering with the rest of them, because that is all a truly loving god can do."

"Your species' definition of a loving god is different from mine." Isha shrugged. "When my children called us, we answered every time during the War in Heaven. Our blood, bodies, and Truth held back the horrors unleashed upon the galaxy. Do not judge me for the inaction of your fellow deities."

"Then what do you call all of this?" The Emperor gestured to the ruined landscape around them with his sword and talons. "Reality tears itself apart at the center of the Aeldari's empire, and the survivors are scattered amongst the radioactive solar winds. If this is the best you could do, what else are you all but useless and impotent."

"We failed, but we did not fight in vain." Isha's silvery eyes glowed and her crossed arms unfolded themselves. "My children survived, and even now they fight aboard their Craftworlds and Maiden Worlds against the hordes of Chaos, while those in Cegorach's service strike from the safety of the Webway. They will not stop, and neither shall I."

"Then tell me, Isha!" The Emperor swung his sword at the goddess again, bringing it down upon her in a telegraphed swing. "If you are so wise as to what a god is or isn't what was I supposed to do!" Both of Isha's hands rose to hold the blade between all 10 of her nails as she met the fullforce of the Emperor in kind. "All the cries and prayers of every suffering soul threw themselves at my feet! Bitter enemies fighting against each other both cried out for my blessing! With their different names for the same thing they called to me! What was I supposed to do! GOD?!"

Decades spent listening to mortal hero after mortal hero fighting for selfish and selfless causes whispered in both of their ears.

As the two struggled against each other, Isha slowly grimaced before throwing back the Emperor's blade and question with a single sentence.

"I DO NOT KNOW!"

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: For those of you who have been following my other posts, this chapter was supposed to be chapter 21, but after doing a lot of proofreading and rethinking pacing, the chapters switched around. This is a direct reference to the Epic of Gilgamesh and Enkidu, although you might be able to interpret it as a reference to the Emperor from Isha's point of view. She has said that they are almost the same in the previous chapter.

Main Part: This chapter is mostly dedictaed to fleshing out the Emperor's backstory and nature. I've spent a huge amount of the story giving exposition to Isha's story in dedicated flashbacks. However, I haven't portratyed the Emperor's character in great detail until now. Warhammer 40K fans all have their own persona favorite origin story, so this entire first part of the Chronicle is dedicated to setting the ground rules as to what the Emperor and Isha are.

He is not a creation of the Old Ones, although he has taken inspiration from their methods and technologies. That was why Isha brought up how the Aeldari were bred into creation by the Old Ones. It was to show how Gilgamesh's actions mirrored the Old Ones' legends, as he tried to mimic their methods in order to breed humanity into a smarter more powerful race.

Of course, he wasn't an Old One and lacked much of their knowledge and technology. Thus, his efforts ended up creating Enkidu. However, he didn't see this as a failure, but an oppotunity to gain himself a commrade.

Enkidu was a far more empathetic version of the Emperor, for he was born out of the wish of the people of Uruk for freedom from Gilgamesh's tyranny. Enkidu was the one who convinced Gilgamesh to go out on massive journeys and expeditions to slay or gather mythical items, wood, and creatures in the Epic of Gilgamesh. The people and elders of Uruk were pretty happy about this, and were happy to see their tyrant leave on conquests and journeys away from them.

In this story, Enkidu redirected Gilgamesh's efforts of improving humanity to a more protective role over all humanity's souls, and he helped Gilgamesh defeat other Warp spawn and predators during his time as a mortal. This actual part of legend is referenced in this part of the story as the dream of autonomy from the unnatural.

I read the Epic of Gilgamesh before I found out about Fate/Stay Night, so the portrayal of Gilgamesh is much closer to how he was portrayed on the actual stone and clay tablets. He is a serial rapist, enslaver, tyrant, and overall a horrible person. However, barbarian kings at the time were largely the same as him, so he is only as horrible as the moral compass of our time perceives him. Some might find it unpleasant that their vaunted God-Emperor has such a sordid history, but quite frankly I do not care. They are usually the ones who have never really read about the world of 40K, and are utterly ignorant of what this setting is like.

I've added some parts of a post I made to someone with some questions to the Writer's notes.

●Gilgamesh and the Emperor seem to be too evil. Didn't he do some good?
In Gilgamesh's own admission, humanity did prosper underneath his rule, and Isha also admits that despite his tyrannical nature, the people loved him enough that Enkidu was the one who was thrown to the ground.

"The people prospered under my rule. Humanity formed its first empire and they grew with the wisdom I inherited from all the psykers that made me."

...

"We shattered my primitive laboratories and destroyed the walls of my palace with our struggle. The people of Uruk flocked to see their tyrant brought low, but it was I who finally threw Enkidu to the ground."

10m. That was the remaining distance between them. The Emperor gripped his sword, keeping the flaming blade obscured behind his thick pauldrons, taloned gauntlet, and armored girth so Isha would not see whether he would strike from above, below, or the side.

"Even as a tyrant, the people saw you as their savior. Thus, as the god born from the wishes of the people of Uruk, Enkidu was preordained to lose despite being equivalent to you so long as they felt they needed you."

Click to shrink...

If it seems that only the worst parts of Gilgamesh's legend are brought to the forefront, it is to emphasize the situation required to generate a being like Enkidu. It's also to emphasize that as Vulkan later states...

It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable.

Click to shrink...

Although this quote is made in reference to the Imperium post-heresy, going from the canon description of the Unification Wars and Great Crusade, the Imperium was always an oppressive imperialistic regime.

●You described the Emperor's actions in hindsight as the following: "You might not know how to fly a helicopter, but if you see one stuck in a tree and on fire, you can safely deduce that it's probably not supposed to be landed like that."
What do you mean?
Secondly, there are two thing I reference with that analogy. One is the alternative to the path Gilgamesh and the Emperor took. As Isha stated below, the Emperor suffers from listening to her song of life because he can hear and see alternatives to the path he took that might have been more peaceful or less violent.

"You suffer at the sound of my song, precisely because you wonder whether things could have been different."

...

"The path of the hero is but one way life can go. There are other ways to reach the same place, and you've always wondered whether the one you took was the right one."

Click to shrink...

That said, most of the paths simply allow for personal peace. i.e. him going into retirement, abandoning his divinity and living as a mortal, continuing to work from the shadows, returning to the Sea of Souls and leaving humanity's fate in their hands and only answering the call when asked to, etc.

Whether any of the other paths lead to a greater utilitarian outcome is unknown, but the very fact they exist is distracting and painful to the Emperor who has only ever trodden one path, and it was usually the bloodiest and most painful. To use another analogy, it's not easy to climb a sheer cliff, only to find out that there was a more gradual mountain trail that led to the same place at the very top. (Of course, with this analogy, you can only see the exit of that path at the top of the mountain, and have no idea if that mountain trail even leads back to the base of the mountain. That is what listening to Isha's song is like as the Emperor.)

As for the other meaning of the helicopter, the path that the Emperor took in canon is often criticized as being Grim Derp. e.g. Council of Nikaea, burning of Monarchia, removal of the 2nd and 11th Legion, hiding his Webway project, hiding the Warp from the Primarchs, hiding the origin of the Primarchs from the Primarchs, etc.

He may have his reasons for each event, but since the events ended up leading to the heresy, it's safe to say that he probably shouldn't have done one or more of those things as he did in canon. The right answer is a mystery, but since we know the outcome of his actions, it's safe to say that he shouldn't have done everything he did as he did it in canon. Hence, why I describe the outcome of the Emperor's actions regarding humanity as a "helicopter stuck in a tree and on fire". Most people can say with hindsight at looking at the Emperor's actions and say, "I don't know what they could have done different, but that was not how they should have done things."

●Did Gilgamesh really have control over all humanity at the time? It seems unrealistic from the historic sources.
As mentioned before, the version of Uruk in this story was massive. It is completely fictional, and merely inspired by the real Uruk. Hence, his entire species was enslaved by him. (This isn't a non-fiction story. I might reference real events, places, and theories but I have also taken more than a few liberties with their portrayal.)


●Ideas such as citizen's rights came much later than Gilgamesh. Doesn't that mean what he did was fine for the time?
Although it is true that such ideas may have been written down much later, the base concept of fairness and equality are actually in-built in most social animals.


View: meiU6TxysCg
As%20was%20mentioned%20in%20this%20TED%20talk,%20this%20experiment%20has%20been%20replicated%20with%20chimps,%20elephants,%20dogs,%20etc.%20Most%20mammals%20exhibit%20an%20understanding%20of%20fairness%20and%20altruism,%20and%20it%27s%20mostly%20the%20limits%20of%20our%20experimental%20methods%20that%20prevent%20us%20from%20finding%20out%20whether%20other%20animals%20have%20this%20same%20concept.%20(I%20would%20suspect%20some%20reptiles%20such%20as%20turtles%20have%20this%20concept%20as%20well,%20since%20we%20have%20observed%20unrelated%20members%20of%20their%20species%20flipping%20other%20turtles%20right%20side%20up%20when%20they%20get%20stuck%20on%20their%20back.)
The%20idea%20that%20rights%20have%20to%20be%20specifically%20written%20out%20in%20order%20to%20codify%20this%20feeling%20of%20fairness%20we%20all%20instinctually%20feel%20is%20human%20arrogance.%20It%20is%20because%20we%20feel%20that%20the%20situation%20around%20us%20is%20unfair%20that%20we%20create%20such%20concepts%20and%20rules;%20not%20the%20other%20way%20around.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N1: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading this chapter beforehand.
A/N2: There are some terms that may require defining for this section. English reading comprehension levels will increase massively during the next few chapters.
Necessary evil: Something unpleasant that must be accepted in order to achieve a particular result. An answer to the problem of evil in the respect to god. Evil exists because it is necessary for some reason and life would be lesser without it.
Gratuitous evil: The opposite of a 'necessary evil' as its very existence is gratuitous (done for no reason). It is the problem of evil in the respect to god. Evil that can be removed without lessening life or causing a greater evil cannot exist with a loving god who is said to be all-knowing.
Axiological: Being of axiology. In other words, the school of thought where right or wrong have no intrinsic value, and must be investigated to understand their nature, available types, and criteria to assign a value determining whether it is worth it to be right or worth it to be wrong.
There is also a footnote to further provide some detail regarding one of the points associated with this term.
Deicide: the act of killing a divine being/symbolic substitute of such a being.
Corona: the outermost layer of the sun. It emits light, but because the surface of the sun emits more light, it is invisible under normal conditions and only appears during a solar eclipse.
Nihilism: In this context, it is the belief that there is no point conducting certain actions because they are ultimately meaningless.
Fatalism: In this context, it is the belief that all events are predetermined and therefore inevitable.
Placentals: A classification of mammals that create an organ that looks like a bloody meat-cushion inside the womb called the placenta that allows the baby to take in nutrients directly from the mother via an umbilical cord.
Monotreme: A classification of mammals that give birth via eggs. The Platypus and Echidna are part of this family of mammals.
Marsupials: A classification of mammals that give birth to worm-like fetuses that are then raised in pouches by having them attach to an oversized nipple as an alternative to the umbilical cord. Kangaroos, Koalas, and Possums all belong to this family.
A/N3: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinions, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
♪1 Eiyuu Ou - Extended
♪2 31 - no way to back out~I ask you, my foe
♪3 All Evil of the World ～ Konoyo Subete no Aku この世全ての悪
♪4 10 - I kill and I give life

—----------------------------------------

As the two struggled against each other, Isha slowly grimaced before throwing back the Emperor's blade and question with a single sentence.

"I DO NOT KNOW!"

Of course she didn't.

She was a goddess banned by her own choice for tens of thousands of years from speaking to her children. The very reason she had done so was to never answer the question of who to kill and who to save. The question that she had abandoned that led to the creation of Slaanesh, and the fulfillment of Lilieath's wish.

She was the Goddess of Life and the mother of the Aeldari, and she would never tell them how to live their lives or punish them for their sins.

Therefore, the answer to the God of Heroes' question did not lie within her anymore than the magic reassuring words she wanted to give to Kyrazis and the other survivors of the Fall.

Thus, her golden nails repelled the God of Heroes' completely, giving him back the answer he had already reached himself.
♪1
"That's right!" The Emperor cried out as a cruel grin crossed his face, even while his own Truth repulsed him. "God never tells man what to do! Man tells man what to do using god's voice! They lie and omit the truth for political power and material gain! They speak with the borrowed mantle of an imagined higher power, and impose their fake divine right to rule on the naive, stupid, and desperate! That is the relationship between gods and mortals! Gods suffer in silence in the Sea of Souls while mortals ignorantly opine about things they've never seen or heard in order to seem greater than their peers!"

With every word, the golden glow of his Truth grew brighter and brighter, as if shedding off the veneer of mortality. Smoke began to rise from the Goddess of Life where the light of the God of Heroes touched her skin, like dry ice exposed to an open flame. At the same time, streams of smoke burst out from the glowing form of the God of Heroes, like vented coolant from an open nuclear reactor core undergoing a catastrophic meltdown.

His sword crashed down upon Isha without skill or finesse; wielded more like a club than a divine weapon. However, Isha's nails met him head on. That question came from one god to another, and to avoid his blow would be to admit defeat to the God of Heroes' argument. Though they fought in the materium where the laws of physics constrained their argument, they were still gods engaged in a divine debate. As the instigator of this, she could not run from it until it was finished.

"Gods are the tools for those that imagine them, for it is mortals that make gods and not gods that make mortals!" The God of Heroes' grinned as Isha grimaced as the weight of his weapon caused her elbows to bend. "You are a slave to your people, to your children! Despite your great power over them, they are the one who hold your leash! Just like a lion in a circus, gods are the chattel of mortals despite having the power to eat any of them!"

Insane fire burned within the wide open brown eyes of the God of Heroes' as he drew even closer to Isha with a mad bared teeth grin, noses only a couple centimeters apart as both emitted smoke of different color; gold and green brown. Yet, despite the unnatural expression of glee that covered his visage and the copious amounts of smoke rising from both their forms, the divine glow radiating from his being and Truth continued to grow brighter, piercing through the obscuring haze from the both of them and blinding everything and everyone who could look down on the planet through the thick ash clouds above them.

"So, this is the fate of all gods you told me about." Isha said quietly as she let go of the blade with one set of her nails, causing the repulsive force between them to shoot her to the side and letting the golden blade of the God of Heroes' slam into the ground, effectively side-stepping both his blade and argument.

Gods were born from the thoughts and dreams of the species that worshiped them, and it was not the other way around, even though their legends may warp the very facts of reality to make it seem like the reverse was true. This fact applied to all gods, including the Phoenix King Asuryan who was what all the Aeldari stemmed from. The omniscient weapon of the Old Ones could not be perceived until after the Aeldari had been born. That was a fact Isha already knew, and could not refute. Thus, the only method to continue was to open a new line of thought.

"'Usurpation, oblivion, or madness' was it?" Isha repeated the three fates that the Emperor had stated for all gods, back on the Bucephelus when he watched her children reject her.

"I am the only one that remains for humanity, and I still exist." The God of Heroes said as he slowly pulled his sword out of the ground before taking a step towards Isha with both arms spread, as if to welcome the natural conclusion Isha would be forced to reach.

Isha snorted, then smiled. She may be forced to continue with the line of logic the God of Heroes led her down, but she could always add her own cruel spin on things.

"What would all humanity think if they knew their vaunted savior had gone utterly insane a long long time ago?"

"A meaningless question." The God of Heroes' shrugged with a small smile on his face, then the ground cracked under his feet. "They would never think of that because nobody will tell them about it!" He leapt as the last words left his mouth, transforming into a golden blur that struck Isha, sending the both of them skidding across the ground as his sword was once again pinned between Isha's nails.

Insane.

That was what the God of Heroes had been this entire time.

It was only through the charismatic personas of millions of past heroes and his vast intellect that allowed him to appear the reserved and intelligent Emperor, but the God of Heroes had gone mad at some point in the ancient past during its endless slog through the black uncertain future.

"I was but a man once, Isha." The Emperor spoke as his divine glow dulled and his sword sparked against her nails as the ground rushed past the two of them; the sonic boom of their passing creating a dust trail that resembled a series of bomb blasts. "I was a man who lost the one being that was his equal, traveled across both the Sea of Souls and insane Warp only to find that there was no salvation for me or any other among the stars." The morose features of the Emperor morphed into the sardonic smile of the God of Heroes and the golden glow radiating from him flashed as he followed through with his strike, sending Isha hurtling away from him. "There is a limit to the amount of despair and grief one can take before everything just starts to seem like a cruel ironic joke."

"Twisted madman." Isha spat as she flew through the air, looking back at him with disgust. "You would get along well with Cegorach." Ghostly laughter echoed around them at the mere mention of the Laughing God's name. "The Mad God favors sadistic jests."

"Indeed he does." The God of Heroes nodded, chuckling as he stared blankly at some long forgotten memory. "I met him in the Webway among the bowels of his Cosmic Serpent with its three children; the Skyweaver, Starweaver, and Voidweaver." His blank stare focussed upon Isha and he gave an amused snort. "I guess he found it humorous to keep that fact hidden from the rest of you."

"The other method to answer the question of omniscience." Isha growled as she twirled in the air in preparation to land. "The answer to the question of why gratuitous evil exists and why a truly all-knowing god does nothing." Dirt was kicked up as her bare feet scraped against it, slowing her down until she came to a standing rest so far from the God of Heroes' that he was just a speck if she had mortal eyes. "Asuryan's answer was self-determination. It was a mercy for all for him to do only the bare minimum. Cegorach's answer was to be the insane and hidden god."

The First Fool was the creator of the Black Library of Chaos; the fabled vault of all knowledge containing even the true nature of the Star Gods. Its companion was Saim Hann, the Cosmic Serpent whose name was synonymous with enlightenment for the Aeldari.

To be associated in legend to such things meant that it was, like Asuryan, another omniscient god.

However, that resulted in a moral problem.

An omniscient being would know of all evil and how to stop it.

A god is defined to love and bless all those that dream of it.

Therefore, if a god does not prevent all evil for those it loves and blesses, then there are only four possibilities.

One: The god is powerless.

Two: The god cannot infringe on free will.

Three: The god itself or its love is evil.

Four: The god does not exist.

Most of the Aeldari gods and all except one of the human gods were not perceived to be omniscient; merely more experienced, intelligent, and possessing a perception of things through their Truth that provided a unique outlook that would seem all-knowing to a mortal. However, they still answered the question of evil with the first as they were relegated to only a certain set of functions and miracles that prevented them from saving those that believed in them from all evils.

Asuryan took the second, for he truly was omniscient and as the Phoenix King he could have ordered any of the other gods to save those who believed in him in his stead.

Cegorach was mostly the third and partially the fourth.

He was the Mad God whose cruel humor was unmatched, and the axiologically*1 benevolent god that remained hidden in the Webway so both theist and atheist had an answer to their moral quandary. Afterall, if a god remains completely hidden, there is no way to prove or disprove its existence; allowing both answers to be correct and incorrect at the same time.

In other words; a non-present god would act as a non-existent one, and a non-existent one could not be differentiated from a non-present god. Thus, all miracles and statistically unlikely coincidences viewed by both believer and non-believer would be satisfied.

"That was the Laughing God's Truth, and the metaphysical reason he could survive where Asuryan fell." Isha growled. "The one who knows everything but shares none of it except through unintelligible jests and jibes." Her silvery eyes reflected Cegorach's laughing face seen by the Emperor in the memories she took from him. "How funny it must have been for him to give you the answer you were looking for, only for them to be self-evident had you reflected on everything you knew about your species and learned about your own creation."

"Give?" The God of Heroes chuckled. "That god did not give me anything." He took a single step forwards, and appeared in front of Isha in an instant. "The gods of your pantheon that wandered the Webway are not known for their charity or their clarity."

The God of Heroes glow dimmed, and its amused expression gradually soured into the dour face of the Emperor.

"I lost my mind as a man the moment I learned the methods of legend crafting." He spat as he slashed at Isha with his sword, knocking her backwards a few meters as his blade collided with her nails. "The moment the raw knowledge forced itself into my brain, it broke every preconception I held of the divine." The Emperor's shoulders began to shake before the God of Heroes threw his head back emitting raucous baritone laughter as his golden glow returned. "The beings I had labeled as useless and infantile were revealed in their entirety to me, as well as my own fate as a god." Breathing heavily from having laughed so hard, the God of Heroes smirked at Isha. "If I hadn't reached apotheosis then, I would have died from the despair of the Old One's knowledge. But, unluckily for me and for you, I had already achieved godhood without intending it. The only reason I survived was thanks to the theories the psykers who formed me used; the theories of the Old Ones. Why wouldn't their knowledge be compatible with my divinity? My construction was inspired by them, after all."

"Then why are you a god even now?" Isha asked.

Just as the Emperor had told her she should have committed suicide if she felt guilt at her method of construction, the God of Heroes could have committed suicide to spare himself of the despair and suffering of his own existence. If he hated the divine to the point of wanting to commit deicide, the first one he should have killed was himself. Even if he did not have the power to do so then, he certainly had the power to do so now.

"What choice did I have?" The God of Heroes sighed, then chuckled. "I learned that there was no way to bring Enkidu back, and that the only way to survive my own species was to never act like him." His talons clenched into a fist, scraping against the armored palm of his own gauntlet sending sparks flying upwards across his chest and even towards his own face. "I would never be able to grant his wish for the salvation of all mankind in the way he envisioned it; walking and learning with it at its side. All I could do was what he convinced me to do. To protect humanity and all their souls from the alien and the unnatural."

The light coming from the God of Heroes dimmed, and the Emperor suddenly stumbled breathing heavily as he recuperated the strength he lost as his own Truth burned away his own divine form.

"That is why I cannot be a god!" He yelled out, glaring at Isha. "I am the Master of Mankind, and Emperor of the Imperium! That is why I can tell them my Imperial Truth! The Truth that the God they envision does not exist!"

That was the conclusion the Emperor had reached in the Sea of Souls, and the method by which he cheated his way back into the materium to create the Imperium of Man.

It was a circular piece of logic that allowed him to exist.

God never tells man what to do. Man tells man what to do using god's voice.

Therefore, the Imperial Truth preached by the Emperor was the word of a man, and thus the Emperor was not a god.

Even with the voice of god that the Emperor spoke with, the Imperial Truth preached that there was no god. Thus, the God of Heroes whose voice the Emperor borrowed did not exist, meaning that every utterance of the Imperial Truth was said only with the mortal Emperor's voice.

That was the atheistic mythology that the Emperor wrapped all his legendary deeds in. All of his inexplicable powers, obviously supernatural strength, and arcane knowledge were boiled down to enlightenment, effort, and science that no-one else could replicate due to his exceptionalism.

Any other method of remaining in the materium would not have worked as long.

As Isha said, every hero eventually ended at apotheosis as their legends focussed their species attention upon themselves; just as Gilgamesh's legend had ended with the apotheosis of the God of Heroes.

Only with this legend of non-belief could the Emperor exist as the Emperor, for even at this moment the endless concentration of thoughts, dreams, and prayers of the entirety of humanity he had unified under his banner concentrated upon his barely mortal form.

Isha eyed the Emperor wearily. He was flickering between his mortal hero and divine self; unsettled by her infusion of information, the reawakened emotional trauma of Enkidu, and their divine debate.

His violence was not a problem.

For divine beings such as them, where conflict of ideals meant conflict between their very essence, it was natural for any divergence in opinion to result in violence. Afterall, a single word of admission could mean a permanent change in their very being.

This was the way a divine debate was supposed to be conducted, but debating with the insane was never an easy or safe endeavor.

However, she was finally conversing with the god she had been meaning to speak to.

"So long as humanity does not know of you, the God of Heroes, you can dilute their effect upon your mind and body." Isha spoke as she waited for the God of Heroes to catch his breath.

"'The method to record all that information within the deity in question, to serve as a buffer to what it was and what it was not.' was it?" The God of Heroes smiled as he straightened his back. "Yes, I took in that portion of the Old One's knowledge as well. That's how I survived the adoration of all those who followed me before my Imperial Truth."

"And that is also why you exude your glow so brightly when you rise to the surface, God of Heroes." Isha nodded to herself as she waved an arm to gather the smoke that had begun to rise from her skin from the light of the God of Heroes and recycle it into herself. "We are inside a psychic Schrodinger's box, are we not? Everyone outside cannot see what goes on here thanks to you. Thus, everything that happens here happens only between us. You blind all to your nature with your own immaterial hating touch, and hide in that brilliance like the burning surface of the sun hides the cooler corona."

The Imperial Truth was based on the idea that no god existed. Therefore, the God of Heroes could not be seen, for its very existence refuted the Imperial Truth. Thus, if the God of Heroes appeared, it could not be seen by those who followed the Imperial Truth. That was the reason the God of Heroes let out the golden glow that burned itself far more than Isha just to appear.

"It is an ingenious way to write your own legend even when forced to reveal your own divinity, although the process is painful and expensive." Isha said as she tilted her head in approval. "I understand your insanity, your instability, your pain, and the reason you so staunchly deny your own divinity." Isha sighed. "You hate yourself, you hate humanity, and you hate the psykers who made you. As a divine being meant to protect against the unreal, your very existence is as antithetical and paradoxical as using weapons of mass destruction to guarantee world peace." There was a brief pause as Isha watched the God of Heroes return to the Emperor to catch his breath before gradually beginning to glow again. "Do you exist only to suffer?"

The God of Heroes emitted a short laugh at that before sneering at the Goddess of Life.

"Humankind is a creature of suffering. Onto itself, onto all others. But, do you have the right to ask me that question?" A spiteful smile warped the Emperor's lips and eyebrows. "You're talking to a mirror. Your choice to damn your children to their own devices. Your choice to doom your own divine family. Your story of being created from 3 billion weeping and wailing women. Your own existence is nothing but one long tale of suffering, sorrow, humiliation, and regret." The golden sword rose to point at Isha. "If you need a reminder, just imagine, what do you think the creature spawned by your choice and your children is doing to your daughter right now?"
♪2
The entire planet shook and the winds began to howl as the Goddess of Life looked at the God of Heroes.

"A tit for tat. Very well." Isha spoke as she glowered at the God of Heroes. "If I forced you to remember your brother, it would only be fair that you brought up my daughter."

The God of Heroes laughed again. "I can see more of what you forced upon me. All those memories of the choices you made, Goddess of Li-"

There was a blur of motion, and the God of Heroes sword rose to block Isha's nails, only to find her hand had been pointing outwards, forcing the blade out of the way, allowing her hand with curled fingers to close into a fist that slammed into his chest.

There was an explosion, and the God of Heroes was sent streaking across the planet in a golden blur only to burrow into the ground as the straight line he was shot in met with the curvature of the planet.

"Do not speak of my titles as if you know what they mean you ignorant upstart godling." Isha muttered darkly, shaking her still smoking fist as she watched the dust trail and debris left by the God of Heroes fall back to the ground. "Goddess of Life. Mother of the Aeldari. You called me those things while you were still the Emperor. I gave you leniency while you spoke to me as a mortal, but do not utter those same words with the voice of a god."

Slowly, the God of Heroes walked out of the tunnel he had punched through the ground. His face was not amused, but slightly quizzical. He looked down at his armor and pauldrons where deep knuckle indentations had caved in the golden plates, as if a giant fist larger than his entire body had slammed into him instead of Isha's small effeminate hand.

"I see… That's not the size you're supposed to be." He muttered as the dents popped out and returned to the smooth sheen of auramite plating.

Of course it couldn't be. His entirety only amounted to a small layer of nail on the tips of her fingers, but he was physically far larger than her smaller feminine Aeldari form. The disappearing indentations on his divine form came from her own divine form, hidden behind her physical body.

"Is this some attempt to humble me, by pretending to stoop to my level?" He snorted, staring back at her.

"Do not think too much of it. I just lost my temper." Isha admitted sullenly. "Should I shed a sympathetic tear for your suffering as a means to make amends?"

"Don't make me vomit." The God of Heroes spat as he shot forwards, slashing upwards with his sword knocking both her hands upwards, opening her guard to reveal her midriff which was seized by his golden talons. "I haven't figured out what your miracle is, but any tear you shed is nothing but miserable salvation that arrives too late for those it's meant for." He lifted the goddess as his momentum carried them across the earth, and slammed her head first into the ground, dragging her through the rock as they traveled. "I have no need for such tears or such miracles. I will be my own salvation for myself and humanity." His talons ripped Isha out of the ground as friction slowed them to a stop, raising her above his head before slamming her down at the ground near his feet so that she rebounded off of it like a tennis ball. Then he slammed his sword into her as she brought up her nails to block him, causing her to shoot away off into the distance like a shooting star. "What purpose is there for a god after the total number of its followers goes down to 0? That's one of the requirements for your miracle, isn't it?"

"So, you wish to talk of salvation." Isha shook her head, face unblemished, casting off the dust and dirt that still clung to her skin and hair as she landed far away. The God of Heroes merely insulted her in retort to her insult against him when she struck him with her actual fist. The act was meaningless, and she shook off both physical and verbal insults without a care. "Fine, ultimately, that is what we both want."

"It is too late." The Emperor's voice rumbled as he pulled his divinity back into himself before slumping to one knee as the smoke that rose out of him gradually thinned and vanished. His own Truth rejected himself the longer he remained in the materium as the God of Heroes. He needed to recuperate his strength. This interaction with Isha had forced his madness to the forefront for some reason, as if he couldn't resist answering back from the bottom of his heart. An instinctual need to refute her claims and reinforce his own world view. "You and every other nonhuman race already have a place in my plans."

"I know." Isha spoke as she landed before him. "I know of that abominable plan of yours, God of Heroes."

The Emperor struggled to regain control, to hold back the writhing emotions that wanted to retort. Finally, the Emperor opened his mouth.

"If you know of my plans, then you should activate your miracle right now." These were the Emperor's plans and they would be carried out as the Emperor, therefore, he could speak regarding this matter without his divinity. "If you even can." He sneered finally, unable to resist adding a final jibe at the end, and the golden glow around him flickered briefly accompanied by a few trails of momentary golden smoke.

"It is as you say, as long as at some point in the future or present the number of my children decreases to 0, I can activate my miracle." Isha gave a single nod as she stared into the Emperor's eyes, waiting.

"Then it must be utterly useless or out of your reach if you do not use it against me now." The God of Heroes said with a smile, rising to both feet again, looming over her.

"I am the judge, jury, and executioner." Isha looked upwards, following the God of Heroes' eyes as his head rose above hers. "Even if the conditions are set, it is my will that decides when, where, and how to activate it."

"An empty bluff, or a threat." The God of Heroes listed the two possibilities of Isha's statement. "Which is it?"

"It is my insurance to ensure you do not run away…" Isha stared back at him, unblinking. "And my way of talking to you face to face, one on one."

The God of Heroes smirked in return. "Some miracle it must be for it to only threaten one ship."

Isha raised an eyebrow and snorted, crossing her arms. "You will not goad me into sharing more of myself with you. I have already given you everything you need to know about me, just as I have taken everything there is to know about you."

"Then you know of my plan, and my definition of salvation." The golden glow sputtered out, and the Emperor glared down at her. "Then there is only one path for you to take as there is only one path for me."

"There is only one path, but you are still blind to its nature." Isha turned her head and sighed before looking up at the Emperor again. "That plan is your only motivation and its logic is the reason for your xenophobia and hatred of all other species other than humanity."

Isha and the Emperor stared at each other; unmoving, unblinking.

"It is the same reason you promised all Four of the Ruinous Powers every soul of humanity in exchange for the immaterial resources to craft the 20 tools you would need to defeat them."

The Emperor's lips were pulled back into a grimace, but the God of Heroes waited for Isha to finish.

"It is the ending of the legend of the God of Heroes who defeated all of Chaos for humanity and humanity alone."

The grimace on the Emperor's lips relaxed, then curved upwards into a smile as his brown eyes dilated.

Isha truly knew what the Emperor intended to do, but she was waiting for him to say it; to say his own plan in his own god's voice.

"The usurpation of Chaos by humanity…" The God of Heroes spoke in his deep masculine voice. "And the infliction of all its miseries on everything but humanity."
♪3
As soon as the words left his mouth, Isha's nails slammed into his sword that had been swung down upon her head.

"You are the legend of humanity and only humanity." Isha stated calmly as her nails sparked against his sword. "Thus, to save humanity from Chaos would save only humanity from Chaos."

"But, therein lies a catastrophic problem." The God of Heroes continued where Isha left off. "Chaos does not come solely from humanity. In fact, most of it comes from things other than humanity."

"Chaos is evil. Whether it is a necessary or gratuitous evil is besides the point. It is evil regardless of it being benevolent or malevolent." The goddess and god stared into each other's eyes, reflecting the other in their entirety as their sword and nails inched forwards and backwards between them. "It is spawned from all the miseries of existence and the pain of reality from every living being. As the god of only humanity's heroes, you cannot defeat Chaos for all races."

"If they were only daemons, they would remain dead once they are slain in my legend so long as humanity exists, for they cannot appear before any other race if that race has the chance of meeting humanity. If it did so, it would be both alive and dead at the same time, and that is impossible even for a being of the Warp. The only way to survive in that sense would be to transform into something unrecognizable to humanity, and thus its original self would be dead regardless. However, the Ruinous Powers have a Truth like any other god. As long as the suffering and despair of reality exists, evil exists and therefore the Truth of Chaos exists."

"The fact that Chaos has been defeated does not make sense when the source of their Truth remains, especially for every other race besides humanity. Thus, even if you destroyed Chaos from humanity's perspective, Chaos would either only be partially destroyed or eventually return."

"And as insane as they are, they grow and learn like any other creature." The God of Heroes laughed, before snatching at Isha with his talons. "If I do not destroy them completely on the first try, they will return and the same method of defeating them will not work."

The Goddess of Life jumped backwards, avoiding the grasping claws of the God of Heroes.

"Therefore…" Isha frowned as she continued the Emperor's logic. "Chaos would have to be defeated in a way that all the evils in the world can be explained."

"And so, usurpation is the only ending that protects humanity." The God of Heroes smiled at Isha, encouraging her to continue.

"The Ruinous Powers would no longer exist, and every evil committed by the Ruinous Powers would still exist because those evils would be committed by the usurper's hand instead." The ground cracked beneath the goddess's feet, and lava bubbled out as if the very ground could not stop itself from vomiting. "The question of why there is evil in the world will be answered by the name of one single species."

"Humanity." The God of Heroes nodded.

"Evil would exist because humanity exists." Isha said, voice emotionless. "Your species would be the source of all evil in the galaxy."

"To be human would be to be evil. Everything else, including any homo sapien that did not agree to that would be nonhuman or abhuman." The God of Heroes shrugged. "But it would be meaningless if humanity committed those same evils upon themselves." He continued as he stepped towards Isha. "There would be no telling the difference between the state of before and after defeating Chaos."

"So humanity and only humanity would be saved, and every other xenos race and their homo sapien sympathizers would be damned by humanity's hands." Isha bared her teeth at the God of Heroes as they completed his argument. "A continuation of your Great Crusade across the galaxy to dominate and subjugate every race, turning them into the scapegoats for all the sins of humanity."

"That is the salvation of humanity as defined by the Emperor." The God of Heroes smiled.

"And humanity would wage bloody war upon every race. All who would resist would be slaughtered or plagued with poxes which only you had the cure to, forcing all those useful enough to not be exterminated to be subjugated. Your race would allow squalor and rot to fester in the underhives of their cities where the lowest ranked aliens and abhumans would be forced into ghettos and slums to live sick decrepit lives filled with despair and hopelessness. Your people would drill down into the Warp and Webway in endless uninhibited quests for knowledge with alien slaves and alien servitors to walk in front of them to ensure the path was safe. Everyone else would be enslaved and tortured for the amusement of your high-lords while gladiatorial fighting pits would distract the working masses with the cathartic suffering of others. In the end, all humanity would live in golden halls adorned with golden ornaments and clothed in golden silks, while every other nonhuman and abhuman would be subjected to the Primordial Truth of human supremacy."

"Beautiful, is it not?" The God of Heroes gestured with his hands as if showing off a priceless painting; as if he could see the image described by Isha before him. "Humanity would be utterly in control of their own destiny. They would be free from all of the unnatural and divine, for they would be the unnatural and divine itself. Chaos would no longer have a hold over them, for all of their actions would be what created Chaos in the first place."

"Salvation." Isha muttered. "For humanity and humanity alone." She let out a slow sigh before turning her silver eyes to the golden form of the God of Heroes who was still enraptured in the imaginary image she had described for him. "That is the true reason for your hate of all other alien races; young and old. Why bother with them if that is the fate you have in store for them to begin with. They will all hate and loathe humanity as the source of all evil in the end, so there is no point treating them kindly now for you never intended to treat them kindly in the first place."

"Selective nihilism and fatalism." The God of Heroes turned back to Isha as he lowered his arms. "If they are to be humanity's enemy in the end, then there is no point engaging with them beyond utilitarianism and cost-benefit analysis."

Isha snorted. That was the same logic the God of Heroes had used when he bargained away all the souls of humanity to the Ruinous Powers for the resources to craft the 20 tools he would need.

If the God of Heroes was to fight against Chaos, Chaos would take an interest in humanity and steal their souls. Therefore, the souls of humanity would fall to Chaos whether he sold them to Chaos or not. That was even before the fact that humanity often fell to Chaos anyways without any bargain or deal with the Ruinous Powers.

Thus, to bargain away all the souls of humanity was to sell a car thief their target car before they could steal it.

Chaos would take the souls of humanity whether he fought them or avoided them. That was why the God of Heroes decided to take something in return for goods that would be raided whether he acted or not.

Only those who followed the Imperial Truth would be immortalized in his legend, saving their souls from Chaos.

And in the end, if Chaos was usurped by humanity, all those stolen and sold souls would be returned, for humanity would have simply taken and bought its own souls.

"And you would reign over all of this as the Emperor of Mankind who unified and saved all of humanity. A singular God who was not a God that reigned over everything while forgiving humanity for all their sins, allowing them to imbibe in their basest darkest desires."

"You have my priorities reversed." The God of Heroes chuckled. "I allow subjugation, enslavement, slaughter, and torture for the salvation of mankind. Mankind's salvation is predicated on all of that, and it is not to allow them to do that that I save them."

"My sincerest apologies." Isha replied sarcastically. "The end result was the same, so I felt it didn't matter what your intentions were."

"No need to be snide." The God of Heroes said as he smiled gently. "Your love for your children and all that is necessary for them is much closer to Cegorach's than my love is for my people." His gentle smile turned into a vengeful sneer. "At the very least, regardless of the end result or the methodology, the hero's intention is always to be the bringer of salvation to themselves and those around them."

"You call my love for my children and all that they need to live evil?" Isha's voice was cold as liquid nitrogen, and frost spread out across the lava at her feet, freezing it into spikes of jagged obsidian glass.

"Of course it is." The God of Heroes laughed. "Even though it may be necessary for you and your Truth to function, your love and your Truth is full of both necessary and gratuitous evils."

Life is harsh. Pathogens cause disease. Parasites infect and infest all creatures. Predators slaughter and kill; sometimes to survive, and sometimes to show their own dominance over territory or females or social status to increase their chances at passing on their genes; although even herbivores would fight to the death for those last three things.

Those were the necessary evils of life, but life contains gratuitous evils as well.

Cats torture mice that they have no intention of eating, all because their hunting instincts have evolved to enjoy the act of killing prey so it would make them better hunters.

Dolphins murder Tuna simply because they resemble baby dolphins, and they cannot tolerate offspring in their pod that is not theirs.

Certain amoebas and protozoa cause lethal neural diseases, not to reproduce, but simply because human neurons through some cosmic coincidence chemically 'smell' the same as their favored prey items. They would enter the nasal cavity of humans, devour their way up the olfactory nerves, and feed upon the living brain of their victim only to die as they cannot escape back into the pond water they originate from.

"All of the miseries of life are the match that lights the bonfire of Chaos." The God of Heroes continued as he chuckled. "Although the Four may be the extremes of every evil, the origin comes from the basic facts of life; the selective pressure of evolution and natural selection." He pointed his sword at Isha. "Even your Phoenix King told you, didn't he? 'The pain of life is nothing to its goddess, for it is she who allows it to torture all that walk within the cycle.' You justified my barbarism against your children by likening it to the microbial genocide conducted by yeast. Your very nature and existence is evil, even if it is a necessary evil for the function of all life."

Isha remained silent, for what the God of Heroes said was not incorrect. Unhappiness and unpleasantness was part of living. Even simple viruses which seemed to do nothing but replicate were necessary for evolution, as they functioned to transmit their own and other genetic information between hosts. Had ancient retro-viruses not infected one of the common ancestors of all placentals, all mammals would have been forced to give birth to eggs as monotremes or worm-like fetuses like marsupials.

"Even inter and intra species conflict is allowed and contained within your love and Truth." The God of Heroes continued as he lowered his weapon. "You justified my barbarism against your children back on the Bucephelus while you sung your accursed song by likening it to the microbial genocide conducted by yeast. Thus, your Truth is evil to all it encompasses, and your love is also evil for it allows the hardship within your Truth to persist."

Isha had done that after hearing of the Emperor's plan to cull the refugees from the core worlds. She had pardoned humanity's transgressions against her people by rationalizing it as another part of her cycle of life. Otherwise, she would have torn herself apart as the Mother of the Aeldari would be irreconcilable with the Goddess of Life.

"The only reason you stand against me now is because I am a god. If I were a mortal, you would be unable to do anything even as I enslave, slaughter, and consume every one of your children until the conditions for your miracle are fulfilled. Only when the number of Aeldari goes from 1 to 0 on the target for your miracle would you be able to act against the mortal Emperor."

That was the requirement of the Goddess of Life. A requirement that had been fulfilled in this region of space a few hours ago.

"You speak of only the evil of life, of only the suffering." Isha muttered bitterly as she stamped on the obsidian shards at her feet, shattering them into dust. "You are correct. My love and my Truth have evil within them, but at the same time that is not the only thing within my breast." Her hands balled into fists as she spat out the next words. "It isn't even the main reason for life, or motherhood. My love is love. That much is irrefutably true."

"Then you should understand that the only reason you see the Emperor's plan as evil is because you are not human." The God of Heroes shrugged. "Just as your love and Truth may only contain evil and not be evil itself, my plan and my salvation merely contain evil and are not evil in themselves. My goal is salvation, and not the conversion of humanity into the source of Chaos. It is only because that is the only logical method for salvation that I do this. And regardless…" He turned his brown eyes towards her, and golden flames burned in the blackness of each pupil. "I am the God of humanity's Heroes. By definition, any act I do is for humanity, and not for any other. Therefore, it is inevitable that any outside onlooker beyond humanity would by definition find whatever I do to be evil and wrong."

Humanity would be saved. That much was true of the Emperor's plans. Everything else did not matter. No matter what the cost, so long as it was not paid with human hands, it was not an issue.

No, even if it was paid with human blood and human souls, so long as the ending was achieved, any suffering, any price, any evil was worth the Emperor's definition of salvation.

That was the natural conclusion of the one who would pull the lever to change the tracks the train would run upon in order to kill the least amount of people every time; regardless of whatever sin or guilt they would be burdened with from that act.
♪3 END
"But you knew all of this." The God of Emperors tilted his head as his talons rose to pinch his chin. "You knew all of this from the moment your nails turned gold, otherwise you would not have taken in my Truth."

"I knew of it…" Isha said emotionlessly. "But I needed to hear it from your voice, God of Heroes."

"Oh?" The God of Heroes raised an amused eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"To make my final judgment." Isha's curled fingers relaxed, returning to the gentle natural curve of her smooth effeminate hands.

"And what is your verdict?" The God of Heroes changed his posture, bending his knees slightly and pulling back both his sword and talons in preparation to strike.
♪4
"I will do as you wish, Emperor of Mankind" Isha smiled at him. "I shall treat you as a mortal, Neoth." Her smile slowly pulled back, revealing pearly white incisors and canines. "It is as you said." The gold light from her nails died, and returned to their original pink and white color. "A god like you should never have existed in the first place."

—----------------------------------------

*1 In this context, Cegorach is axiologically benevolent because being a hidden god means that it does not matter whether one believes in him or not because one cannot tell whether he exists or not because he is hidden. Thus, all those that believe in him gain all the benefits of believing in him that they imagine, and all those that do not believe in him gain all the benefits that they expect to receive from his non-existence.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: It's as it says.

Main Part: I made post ages ago talking about how the true nature of the Emperor would horrify all loyalists Primarchs and be the most obvious thing ever to the traitors Primarchs. The God of Heroes has gone utterly insane, and sees everything as just one horrible cosmic joke. However, even in this state, he still functions to save as many human souls as he can.

This is also why the Emperor states he cannot be a god. He knows his divine self has gone utterly insane, and fears what he could do if he remained in that state. The God of Heroes is not as logical as the Emperor and is far more violent.

Does the Emperor have multiple personality disorder because the God of Heroes seems too different to him?
To be clear, the God of Heroes is not another personality or persona of the Emperor. It is merely the Emperor affected by insanity and drunk on madness. However, he can suppress those effects by remaining a mortal hero, so he prefers to remain 'human' as much as possible.

Did you reference that Chaos was evil incarnate anywhere else in the story?
Chaos and the problem of evil is explained mostly in this chapter, but it was alluded to in the prologue, in both parts of the Fall, and in 'Warped Perception'.

The Aeldari in their post-scarcity society and infinitely reincarnating lives were untouched by any necessary evil such as scarcity or intraspecies competition for resources, hence, they did not fuel the other three Chaos gods. That metaphysical manifestation could be interpreted as the Eternal War between Chaos and the Aeldari pantheon as all other races in the galaxy could only stare at this indomitable empire the Aeldari had created in envy.

Chaos is the disorganised attempt to rationalise an irrational world by the races of the galaxy in this story, so trying to defeat them means you have to take on every problem with existence.

Isn't the Emperor's plan too evil?
The Emperor's plan is evil, but it's as the Emperor said, "I allow subjugation, enslavement, slaughter, and torture for the salvation of mankind. Mankind's salvation is predicated on all of that, and it is not to allow them to do that that I save them." He doesn't want to cause so much destruction and suffering, but because humanity's salvation requires it he sees it as the only choice and path forwards.

Chaos isn't something you can just "kill". They are evil incarnate, and to destroy them means you have to deal with evil. The Aeldari were untouched by Chaos as portrayed in the prologue in the Eternal War. Their society developed to the point that they were a post-scarcity society, and hence had nothing to fear from war, famine, disease, and even death. However, even though they had 'defeated' Chaos in their empire, Slaanesh formed instead and destroyed everything from the inside out.

Even if the Emperor could by some miracle save every single alien (some of which already worship Chaos like the Laer) and created a post-scarcity society that dealt with every species different specific needs, there is a chance that all that would do would spawn another Chaos god.

Chaos is formed from the base evil of all existence, and there is no defeating Chaos without answering the question of evil.

In other words, the Emperor's solution is only as horrible as the creatures he is forced to fight.

This plan is also inspired by how Horus describes his motivations for rebelling against the Emperor, and why he believes the Emperor is trying to become a dictator god. Chaos was both lying and telling the truth at the time. However, they convinced Horus that their 'evil' was a simple fact of life, and the Emperor's attempt at usurping them would create a dictatorship where certain parts of humanity would be placed in eternal suffering as well. They're not entirely wrong, since any homo sapien that rejected the Emperor's truth would be classified as an abhuman, and be treated as badly as any alien. However, they rephrased the part where almost all of humanity would "live in golden halls adorned with golden ornaments and clothed in golden silks" as the Emperor effectively enslaving the people he saved with mind control and propaganda. In the Emperor's version, these people in gold would be cognizant of what they did, and they would do it knowing that to do otherwise would be to distribute random evil and wanton Chaos.

Of course, there was no way of effectively convincing Horus that these people in gold would have free will from him on the Vengful Spirit, and even after convincing Horus that Chaos had tricked him, there was no way to save Horus without destroying humanity's legend. So, the Father slew his son as a sacrifice for all humanity, to preserve its unity and its staunch opposition to Chaos. The Son accepted his Father's blade, and died completely to never ever return to serve as an eternal reminder of the folly of listening to Chaos.

The Emperor's salvation is effectively an ordering of Chaos. Humanity would be the arbiter of how it was dispensed, and suffering would be unleashed in a controlled method that would allow for the most number of souls to be saved with the least amount of suffering. Naturally humanity comes first, but it wouldn't be cost-effective to let more than the necessary amount of aliens and abhumans die, so the number of deaths would usually be less than if Chaos did the same thing.

Naturally, this plan is evil when viewed from outside humanity, but it seems like a pretty good bargain from humanity's perspective.

 

[Nidhog153]

"Do you see them, Horus?" A tall man with flowing raven hair spoke to a young boy, high up on one of the balconies of the Imperial Palace on Terra. "All the engineers and laborers, the gene-sculptors and farmers, the teachers and store clerks. See how they all work together as one? Growing, feeding, and nurturing the Imperium? This is humanity. An organism that grows when truly unified."

The two of them overlooked the Imperial City of unified Terra under the mid-day sun. Horus was in the middle of one of his breaks between tutors, to allow those who would teach him to catch their breath and stamina from his questions.

The Emperor was clothed in a simple long-sleeved satin shirt and trousers. Horus was also clothed in similar attire.

"I do, Father." Horus nodded. He was a young boy with similarly long raven hair. He appeared to be only a few years of age, yet his eyes were infinitely wiser than their years. "They look like ants."

Both were so far up that any mortal would have not been able to see anything, especially amongst all the steam from the various ducts and occasional plumes of incense that rose from the various groups of Imperial Iterators that occasionally patrolled the streets to reinforce the Emperor's Imperial Truth amongst the most unfortunate and desperate.

"Haha!" The Emperor laughed as he tousled the young boy's hair. "Termites would be a better comparison. Ants are all clones produced by a single queen, but termites are genetically siblings to one another. They are all brothers and sisters, working together to help one another. But, that is not the true beauty of humanity, Horus. All these people before you do not work together due to some genetic predisposition."

"They work because you tell them to Father." The young boy shrugged as he combed his mussed hair back with his hand.

"At first, but no longer." The Emperor nodded as he chuckled. "See that old store clerk there? He could sell his shop, and live out the rest of his days with a state pension and the money from selling his store and land with about the same comforts he has now. He could also increase the prices of his wares by two fold, and although less people would buy from him, he could earn the same amount of money with half the work. That is how successful he is. Do you know why he does not do so?"

"Why Father?" Horus asked as he focussed in on the old tubby man greeting an old woman at the door of his small general store.

"Because he knows the school teacher down the road buys snacks and stationary from his shop to use at school." The Emperor spoke as he placed a hand on young Horus's shoulder.

"If he raised the prices, she wouldn't be able to restock her prize box for the children who get the most right answers. Those same children pass by this shop everyday, and he looks at them and waves every morning, even as he stretches the crick in his back and kneads the stiffness out of his neck everyday."

"What does that have to do with anything, Father?" Horus asked as he continued to stare down at the man from the balcony, like a hawk on a perch.

"Given the chance, humanity does not do what it has to do, or what it should do." The Emperor chuckled as he patted Horus on the shoulder. "It does what it wants to do, but even then, it still finds a way to work for the better of others."

Horus was quiet for a while as he watched the old man return to his store, then turned to look up at the man who said was his Father.

"Then why did the first federation fall apart, Father?"

It was a simple question, but it made the Emperor pause for a moment. Then a sad smile crossed his face, and he looked off into the masses of humans, avoiding eye contact with the young boy.

"Sometimes… humanity makes mistakes." He said slowly. "They think they're doing the right thing, but they aren't. Sometimes someone lies to them, and makes them believe in something there isn't." The Emperor leaned on the thick walls of the Imperial balcony for a while, letting the background noises of the Imperial city beneath them fill the silence.

"You will learn in time, Horus." The Emperor finally said. "But know this. All this. All my works and wonders. They will be yours one day. Yours to marvel and cherish. Yours to grow and lead."

Horus blinked at this, quizzically, then stepped up to the Emperor in order to get a look at his face that was still looking out at the city.

"You mean my brothers and mine, right?" Horus asked. "The ones who are lost."

The Emperor sighed once, and then turned back to Horus while leaning on the balcony wall.

"Yes, they are lost, but this will not be theirs. They have their own purpose."

A very slight frown furrowed Horus's young brow.

"That is not a good idea, Father. All the gangs on Colchis where the leader was not much better than his men fell the fastest. Jealousy and envy are quicker killers than any sword or stubber." An innocent smile replaced the slightly upset look, as the young boy looked up into the sky. "They are my brothers, and your sons Father. Surely they will be as smart and as talented as I am."

There was an innocent anticipation, and a slight sense of wanting in that voice.

Horus was the only son of the Emperor on Terra, and he had no personal knowledge of any other. He knew he was different from the day he woke up in the hives of Colchis. All the other children were weaker and dumber than him. Even the adults made mistakes that Horus found elementary.

He quickly learned that talking in the way that came most natural to him, talking as he did now, unsettled others. They would be surprised and amazed at first, but whatever wonder they seemed to experience gradually turned to uneasiness and fear the longer Horus talked.

It was as if they were looking at something not quite human, something that was not supposed to be in this world. So, he learned their slang and inefficient speech patterns, acted as they did amongst them, and worked to better the lives of those he felt most attached to.

That all ended when his Father found him, but the relief Horus felt had ebbed greatly. There were times when he felt his own Father was just as stupid as the dumbest gang leader of Colchis. This was one of those times.

His brothers were his brothers. They were made by the same man that was the Emperor, and they now walked amongst mortal men just as he had. They would surely feel the same feelings and have the same thoughts. They would be his equals, and his family.

He loved his Father, who was the only one he felt could be his intellectual equal, but he could not relate to him at times. Whether it was the age difference, or something else, Horus did not know, but there were times he felt his Father was overtly human and fallible.

It was those times that made Horus saddest the most.

'I suppose this is how Charlie Gordon felt when he realized the scientists who made him were only mortal men.' Horus thought to himself, feeling a sense of kinsmanship with the fictional savant in the book "Flowers for Algernon".

Charlie Gordon was a mentally disabled man who was turned into an intellectual god by the efforts of two neurosurgeons who he originally deeply respected and was thankful for the improvement to his mental faculties. However, when he ended up becoming far more intelligent than the men who created him, there were no feelings of joy nor gloating victory. There was only a deep disappointment, and cold loneliness.

"Then you will have to be the best and brightest among them through pure effort, Horus." The Emperor laughed as he tousled Horus's hair again.

Horus frowned, and pushed his Father's hand off his head. Perhaps he should mimic the Colchisian street gangs' hairstyle. At the very least, having his hair tousled wouldn't hurt so much with no hair to pull.

"You are the first of my sons to return to me, and you will be the first to lead them. If you feel it to be too trying to do so, then you can let the reins fall to someone else. But, you must take them up once to see who amongst your brothers they should go to."

Horus pondered over his Father's words. A rotating council might be a more stable form of governance, although changing the person in charge so frequently ran the risks of making the same mistakes as the Japanese Imperial Government during the second ancient World War on Terra that lead to the first two military uses of nuclear weapons on her soil.

"Yes, Father." Horus nodded, putting his ponderings on hold. His brothers would be as intelligent as him. If they worked together, they could come up with something much better.

"Good." The Emperor nodded. "Now, come. It is almost time for your next tutor."

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N1: Thanks again to Skyborne for reading this chapter before hand.
A/N2: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
♪1 Rosary - Intro

—----------------------------------------

The golden glow of the God of Heroes receded, and his sarcastic smile slowly drained of all mirth only to be replaced by the scowl of the Emperor.

"So… That was what you muttered back then while you were gloating."

This was the second time the God of Heroes had risen to the surface of his psyche. The first was during Isha's monologue of what sort of god he was and the core nature of his Truth. Steam had begun to rise from his own body back then as well when Isha made it clear that the Emperor was not supposed to be the God of Heroes and the God of Heroes was not supposed to be the Emperor.

The moment that had been said, his madness had risen to the surface and almost broke through. However, the moment Isha had muttered something under her breath, his divine madness had released him.

"What are you trying to do?" The Emperor asked the Aeldari deity before him.

This creature's actions were confounding. It brought his divine self to the forefront, the divine self he himself abhorred and hated, to talk of a plan she already knew and could not logically allow only to send it away once again.

"What purpose was there in talking to that, only to force it back?"

"Do not talk of the God of Heroes like a second personality, Neoth." Isha snorted. "That is you, infected with insanity and drunk on madness. The thought processes and actions of the God of Heroes are all yours, including its tears and its laughter."

"Tears?" The Emperor raised an eyebrow.

"I have already seen what you actually are, Neoth; that flaming figure walking along the golden path. That is what you really are. That form is always crying, even as it continues stepping into the darkness."
♪1
The short story Isha watched when she first touched the essence of the God of Heroes back on the Bucephelus showed the God of Heroes as what he symbolically was. A flaming figure swarmed by the uncountable shadow of humanity's souls, walking through the dark to pave a path for all those who could follow it.

From its eyes, endless tears fell, mixing with the ashes all those consumed in its fire to form hardening cement and mortar that would bind the golden bricks it laid with greater determination.

The God of Heroes may have been laughing at the cosmic joke that was the state of the galaxy, but its actual form endlessly wept, and used its tears and the remains of all those it could not save to reinforce the path that carried all those who could be saved.

The Emperor was silent for a moment, then both of his hands clenched as his teeth ground together and lips pulled back in a pained grimace.

"I never wanted this." He hissed through his teeth.

The Emperor may have made the plan, but it was not made with laughter, but bitter defeated sighs.

"'I never wanted this.'..." Isha muttered, repeating the Emperor's words. "I heard those words often from my daughter, after she forced my hand to doom my children." She sighed. "It is not easy making a miracle happen, but that child went through with it. She went along with her Truth, doomed my mortal children, and damned our family to eternal torment. She went behind my back, betrayed my trust, and is now mostly remembered for a false incestuous lust and her wagging tongue." Another long sigh exited between Isha's lips before she turned towards the Emperor. "But, even as she went down that thankless path with full-knowledge of what awaited her, she would always whisper to herself those same words you do right now."

'I never wanted this.' Those were the words that often exited between the lips of the Goddess of Dreams and Visions after she let loose the prophecy that brought forth the very creature it warned about.

"Rejoice, Emperor of Mankind…" Isha said in a melodramatic voice. "As the Goddess of Life, I can assure you that your plan will be the utilitarian solution that saves the galaxy."

"What?" The Emperor said slowly as he stared at the goddess before him, partially in shock, partially in disgust, and partially in horror.

"The galaxy is currently defined by the Ruinous Powers." Isha sighed. "They are, despite my family's best efforts, the victors of the Eternal War. Now, it is their Primordial Truth that defines the Sea of Souls and that definition has changed its very nature, making it the nightmarish Warp. That fact does not change until they and their Truth end."

Isha looked up at the dark clouds above the, twisting and churning as brief flashes of muffled lightning sparked within the dust and dirt high up in the stratosphere.

"With the current state of affairs, nobody is saved. Sooner or later, whatever the species, wherever in the galaxy they may be, Chaos will come for them. Their extremism makes them unsustainable in the materium, so the only way they can continue to exist is to spread, infect, defile, and destroy to reinforce what they are upon the galaxy. Eventually, there will be nothing left."

Isha paused and gave a very long and very tired sigh while looking to the side.

"From a utilitarian perspective, if your plan succeeds, at least one species will be saved. As the Goddess of Life, I can predict that much at the very least. Even if all other species of the galaxy might suffer under mankind's supremacy, it is better than total damnation of everything, and what's more…"

Isha turned to look at the Emperor once again. "For you and your kind, the damnation of others is a process that allows you to continue your salvation. Thus, by definition, all the evils of the universe would be rendered necessary. Henceforth, even if all other races are damned, the number of dead, tortured, and suffering would be fewer if they were done by the organized hand of humanity than the rabid claws, tendrils, and tentacles of the Four."

The Emperor took a step back. Why was an alien goddess, one of the protectors of the species his plan would consume defending his actions? The thought process was utilitarian, efficient, and also utterly alien. His divine self had started laughing only when there was no other path but the one he currently tread upon, but the goddess before him was calm and collected.

"Other species would be a resource for this golden version of humanity you envision, and your enlightened humanity would be intelligent enough to understand this fact. Thus, whatever necessary suffering was to be inflicted, it would be done as barbarically as possible on the smallest number required."

Isha chuckled to herself once before turning back to the Emperor with a narrow eyed smile.

"Emperor of Mankind, and prospective Hero of the Galaxy; you would save the most people with the least number of deaths with your plan, for the act of preventing unnecessary deaths and the act of saving the greatest number of people are effectively the same thing. Thus, your plan is 'good' even though it itself is 'evil'. I guess that is what the God of Heroes finds the most humorous."

Isha gave an amused snort. "Although, this was not what the answer you wanted for you or your people."

"OF COURSE I NEVER WANTED THIS!" The Emperor roared as golden sparks leapt from his eyes. "Thousands of years, I worked with divine and mortal friends and partners to find another way! I thought I was on the brink of success 8,000 years ago! A method of ensuring humanity's autonomy without usurping the Ruinous Powers! You think I want to take those things into my legend?!" He spat out as the flames on his sword roared out, charring the ground at his feet.

"The Four would live on through you, for their Truth would still exist." Isha nodded to herself. "You would be exposed to their every thought and deed. Given your personality, it would be a living hell I would imagine."

"And it would never end!" He said bitterly. "I would be stuck with all Four and all their evils for all eternity."

"You would." Isha sighed again. "You phrase it as usurpation, but you would be closer to their jailer."

"But jailing them is not enough. You cannot just defeat Chaos! Their despicable Truths are a material fact! Even if I could cut off their head with my sword, and stab them through the heart with my blade, as long as there is suffering in the world another will take its place! That's why an answer is needed to the question of all mortals, human or otherwise, so there is some answer to their prayers!"

As the god of a divided and self-destructive species, the God of Heroes had heard almost every possible cry a sentient being could give. However, for most, it could do nothing. Thus, it knew the pain and anguish that an unheard prayer could bring. That's why it could ignore those cries, and completely understand them at the same time. He had gotten used to them enough to abandon them, but he knew what each ignored cry did to each individual.

"You're not wrong." Isha admitted sullenly. "My children's empire was a post-scarcity society untouched by war, famine, disease or even death. Just as Khorne, Tzeentch, and Nurgle could never defeat us during their Eternal War, my children had nothing to fear from the sufferings that all other races in the universe endured."

Just as the Aeldari empire was unburdened with all material wants and provided everything to fulfill even the most hedonistic and trivial need, the Aeldari pantheon withstood the forces of Chaos undefeated. However, just as the Aeldari empire was aloof and isolated from all other species, the Aeldari pantheon did not act as the primitive races of the galaxy wept and cried for all the death and destruction they wrought upon themselves.

This is the relationship between the immaterium and materium; a metaphysical entanglement of events and occurrences that mirror each other, yet are utterly unconnected. Coincidental poetry that simply happened to rhyme on key verses.

"Even then, that was not the answer to the question of evil." The Emperor spat out his words with venom. "Eternal peace and prosperity for all merely resulted in the creation of Slaanesh as nihilistic or fatalistic hedonism suffused every aspect of culture available. That was the end result of the Aeldari's answer to the question of evil."

There was a long pause as the Emperor shook his head, disentangling his thoughts from the information Isha had given him. Whether he knew that fact before or after she had given him that information, he could not tell, but the facts matched with everything else.

"That's why, this is the only way." He said slowly. "I've already tried everything else I could come up with, and you know what that led to."

"The Cybernetic Revolt, the Age of Strife, the Dark Age of Technology, the usurpation or oblivion of every other god of humanity, and Molech."

The abominable plan of the Emperor was not plan A or B or even Z. It was the final back-up that had been buried the moment it was conceived 16,000 years ago, and only dug up in the last 8000 years after the grand social experiment humanity had conducted on itself collapsed along with their Golden Age.

"That was when they asked me that question, Isha." The Emperor whispered. "'Were they worth everything you gave them, Neoth?' After everything I gave, everything I had tried and taught humanity, all the love they received from all their gods, it was all for nothing."

"'Humanity is a species of failures, losers, and fools.' was it?" Isha repeated the Emperor's words. "Of course, that means that is what you define yourself as well, being created from their thoughts and dreams."

"But, it all ends now, doesn't it?" He replied bitterly. "Just how much more power do you have stored?"

This had been a battle of stamina for the Emperor, but he had already winded himself several times during their numerous attempts at destroying each other. Isha, on the other hand, remained largely unchanged. He could still continue, for eternity if necessary, but the battle to outlast her was seeming to be an almost Sisyphean task; like attempting to flatten a mountain by digging away at it with a spoon.

"Enough to achieve a single miracle…" Isha said with a forlorn smile. "And perhaps a few other minor blessings."

A miracle. That was how she phrased it, and he had seen fragments of what that entailed. Its nature was still a mystery, but its scale was gradually becoming clearer. That was an act that affected entire planets.

The Tear of Isha.

With one tear, it was said that she returned all life to the dead homeworld of the Aeldari.

The Emperor could expunge an entire planet of life, given enough time. If he had his fleets act in his stead, he could commit Exterminatus with Cyclonic torpedoes, Atmospheric incinerator torpedoes, or Virus bombs. However, he could not simply rejuvenate a planet back to life. If he could, Terra would have returned to its blue and green form eons ago.

If she truly had the reserves for a miracle of that scale, this battle that hadn't even leveled a single continent was within the margin of error compared to the power necessary to create a psychic event that would affect the entire planet.

"Is this all then some act as the Aeldari Goddess of Mercy." The Emperor muttered sullenly, only for the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

"Watch your mouth Mon-keigh." Isha said quietly, but her wide open eyes burned with a cold intensity. "I simply can't have you losing hope and committing suicide, not after how much you've inconvenienced and insulted me."

The Emperor watched the goddess warily as he felt her boiling anger gradually simmer, then he opened his mouth to ask the question that had begun to tug at his mind.

"Why bother? If you are as wise and powerful as you're posturing, then why bother with me or my race?"

He may still be able to track her, but he was beginning to have his doubts on whether he would be able to do anything should he find her.

There was a long pause as the Aeldari goddess glowered at him, as if the very act of questioning her was an insult. Finally, she sighed and folded her arms in front of her.

"I am desperate, Neoth." She said slowly. "I am still as desperate as when I first told you so when we first met." Her fingers curled around her upper arms, and she dipped her head forwards. "I have reestablished contact with some of my children, and things are deteriorating faster than I had hoped." Thousands of psychic linkages revealed themselves from within Isha, appearing from her back like flower buds on vines or branches that had yet to bloom. "You see those bindings between me and the surviving twins of those that lost their lives here? They are already in the belly of She who Thirsts, and are exposed to Hir Truth." Each bud was a vibrant pink and purple color and pulsated occasionally, as if whatever was inside wasn't a flower, but something more animate; something that had a hag-fish maw filled with teeth. "I have felt their hearts and minds, and they already resonate with Hir more than with me. It won't be long before they become like the Psychomatons, bound to an excess that prevents them from doing anything else but that, permanently unable to return to me."

Isha paused as the flower buds drew back inside her, and then shook her head.

"No… it doesn't matter whether that takes place a day from now or a million years in the Warp. If they are to lose in the future, then they have already lost now. The same is true for my devoured family. They are with She who Thirsts, either in the Palace of Pleasure or within Hir belly. Just like you and I, they are engaged in a divine debate with the God of Excess, and that battle begins with them on the backfoot. They are forced to resist with only a fraction of their power and Truth, and less of their body. Even if I could stretch out a hand to save them, there is a chance that the moment I do, they will emerge from Hir stomach and grab my wrist to drag me down into the blood and gore filled stomach acids of She who Thirsts." A ragged breath came from her as her fingers closed around her upper-arms; pink nails digging into her impossibly hard skin. "I may be Hir antithesis, but there are ways to use even things you cannot digest."

Isha was desperate. She had no other options and no more time left. The Aeldari pantheon had been consumed in the Warp and time had no meaning there. Whatever she did, whatever method of salvation she could carry out, it would already be too late.

The Emperor remained silent for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the words and actions of the Aeldari goddess.

She was desperate.

She had fought him.

She had conversed with his own hated divine-form, and then sent it away relieving him of its madness.

Now, she stood before him justifying his plans that would hurt her people as well.

Everything seemed to be a tangled mess of contradicting actions and words, with no logical path he could understand.

Finally, he formulated the question that would either end their conflict, or aggravate it.

"Are you desperate enough to join my plan?"

That was the only peaceful outcome the Emperor could come up with.

It would be harder with two species, but it was theoretically possible. As long as the problem of evil was answered, it didn't matter whether there were one or two names for the rest of the galaxy to call out in hatred.

Isha let out a brief exasperated laugh as she shook her head.

"Don't be ridiculous." She said tiredly. "Even though your plan is 'good' from a utilitarian perspective, I could never allow it to come to pass."

Rejection. That was the goddess's answer.

The Emperor's right hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, and he began to raise it.

"Do not be so hasty, Neoth." Isha said as she raised a placatory hand. "We've generated a sense of rapport between us, so why not hear my answer as to why that wouldn't even work in the first place."

The Emperor paused, then slightly lowered his sword, affirming her offer to provide greater detail with silence.

"My children and myself are of particular interest to at least two of the Four." Isha shrugged as she spoke. "Nurgle wants me as his prize, while She who Thirsts will never stop lusting after my children. Your method of slaying the Ruinous Powers requires you to take in everything that they are. Even though you may not understand them at first, that ignorance would not last forever. In fact, since you specifically seek to usurp their Truths, you would have to understand them better than any other thing in the galaxy possibly could. Of course, what that would mean is that you would understand their desire for both the mortal Aeldari and their last surviving goddess."

The Emperor grimaced.

Nurgle wanted Isha, and the Emperor saw what Lilieath prophesied to be Isha's fate at the hands of the Plaguefather.

Slaanesh wanted all the souls of the Aeldari, and the Emperor had already seen what the Prince of Pleasure was capable of.

Both desires were motivated by each Chaos god's respective Truths.

If he took them into his legend, those desires would be inscribed into him as well, and as the arbiter of their Truths, he would eventually begin to see the way they viewed the world. Hence he would have the same desires as Nurgle and Slaanesh.

"If it were some other species, you might have been able to save them as well. However, for the Aeldari and myself specifically, your plan is damnation regardless."

That was the reason for Isha's rejection. The Emperor's plan would not work in the first place for the Aeldari or their goddess.

"Don't try to deny it." Isha said sadly as the Emperor's brow creased as he tried to find a way to refute her. "When I said you would plague all who would resist with poxes which only you had the cure to, I did not say that lightly."

"You suggest that I would do something like that to you?" The Emperor's tone was filled with disgust.

"You already intended to send me to eternal sleep and harvest my knowledge in my dreaming nightmares." Isha shrugged. "After you take in Nurgle, it would only be a matter of time, and Nurgle is your first target. Afterall, why else would you have designed something like the Virus bomb to begin with?"

The Virus bomb, an Exterminatus class bioweapon that spread the genetically-engineered pathogen called the Life-eater virus across the surface of an entire planet within minutes. The virus could penetrate power armor and rebreathers, and rotted anything of biological origin into a flammable sludge. All the flora and fauna of an entire world would be digested by the virus; turning forests into swamps of decay, and choking every body of water with the liquified remains of all those who had been living moments before. Then, a single spark was all that was required to turn the gangrenous remains of an entire planet into a burning hellstorm.

With a plague this virulent, it would not take long for humanity to be synonymous with death, disease, and despair. After that, it would only require a trip through a Webway backdoor deep into the Plaguefather's garden, and the usurpation of the oldest Chaos god could begin.

"The same thing will happen when you slay She who Thirsts, Neoth." Isha said quietly. "Your people already find my kind attractive. I will not have my children be your people's playthings."

Distant echoes of thunder rumbled overhead as the Emperor simulated the situation Isha had described, trying to find another outcome. Finally, he shook his head and raised his sword again.

"Then… there is only one way this can go." The Emperor said slowly.

"Whoever finds out about the Emperor's plan cannot be allowed to live." Isha replied calmly.

"So, there are only two ways this can end." The Emperor's flaming sword was already in the ready position, and his feet shifted so his chest faced away from Isha at an angle, narrowing his silhouette while putting his weapon in-between himself and his opponent.

"Anyone who learns of the plan to turn humanity into the source of all evils must be either killed by the Emperor." Isha shrugged.

"Or kill the Emperor." Neoth replied.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared above them.

"In the end, this is the only relationship humanity can have with Xenos." The Emperor's voice was sullen, disappointed, and tired.

"There are other paths." Isha said calmly as she unfolded her arms.

"I have no interest in listening to the second rate answer of a failed goddess belonging to a fallen species." The Emperor replied, voice devoid of emotion. "If you had an answer to all evil, you would have deployed it before your children fell."

"Do you remember the question of the train and the tracks we talked about, Neoth?" Isha said suddenly as she opened a hand, and a spear made of obsidian rock shot out of the ground and landed in her palm.

"'What happens if the act of sacrificing one to save many is counted as murder?' was it?" The Emperor replied as he waited for Isha to finish.

"We don't have to go that far." Isha chuckled as a new golden strand of hair grew out of her head before cutting itself off and wrapping around the point of the spear. "But, it is that concept that is my solution." Isha twirled her weapon in her hand, testing its balance before holding it in both hands and lowering her posture. "Unfortunately, a crime must be committed for a criminal to exist."

The Emperor tensed, and the ground beneath his feet cracked as he shifted his weight in readiness to lunge.

"Before we begin…" Isha interrupted as her own legs bent, preparing to pounce. "I would like to thank you for reminding me."

"Reminding you of what?" The Emperor answered as the two of them stared into each other's eyes.

"Of what I am and what I was made for in the War in Heaven."

Twin explosions rocked the land as Isha and the Emperor shot forwards, and clashed once more.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: The title is usually the last thing I think about, but this time I was really tired, so my mind just went 'what is this chapter about?' and just spat this uninspired line out. Isha assures the Emperor that he is 'good' in the utilitarian sense, but also that his plan isn't compatible with her or her plans at the same time. However, as the Emperor stated, Isha knew all of this from the moment her nails turned gold, so there is something she's trying to get to by tearing the Emperor down and building him up again emotionally. Now that I think about it, that was sort of the entire point of Isha's existence during the War in Heaven in this story, so it's not out of character to consider her actions here to be a expression of her Truth as a Goddess of Life.

Main Part: The story references itself a lot in this section, so there is the mention of the short story Isha saw regarding the Emperor's nature. It was at this time Isha added one more option to the ones she saw possible for herself and the Emperor. Since Isha's miracle is specifically called the "Tear of Isha" the point that Isha probably resonated with most when she saw that story was that the Emperor was crying even as he continued to walk through the darkness.

Isha is often linked to tears and crying imagery in canon 40K, and she still is in this story. The fact that the Emperor's divine imagery also contained this concept of crying probably resonates with her.

As for the canon origin for the Emperor's tears, they are quite literally called "Tears of the Emperor", and are both a panacea and holy handgrenade against the denizens of the Warp.

The fact that the tears of both these gods overlap in function is how I symbolically justify the overlap in Truths between them, and their nature. I'm referring to a Codex entry of the Harlequin where the Masque of the Frozen Star (a Harlequin Masque dedicated to Isha) which performed dances so beautiful at the shrine of the World Spirit on Exodite worlds invaded by Nurgle that all the Eldar there wept, and then rain fell from the sky that cleansed the entire planet of Nurgle's corruption and sickness. (P.31 8th edition Harlequin Codex)

Additionally, this chapter is a turning point, for the Emperor stays his sword several times in order to wait for Isha to stop speaking. He is beginning to listen to her, partially because it's harder to defeat her than he thought, and also because the Emperor only really ever entreats with those that are either his equal or are too necessary to destroy.

Old Albia fought the Thunder Warriors to a temporary stalemate.
The Mechanicum and its inbuilt faith were too important to destroy.
The Saturnyne Ordo was a miniature empire all on its own, and had space based capabilities that rivaled the Emperor's own fleet at the time.
Of course, there is also Enkidu, who fought the Emperor to a stand-still.

I guess this nature of the Emperor is sort of like a Geas.

He will only ally with those that are his equal.

Allying with a weaker ally creates a vulnerability, and therefore anyone weaker than him or his Imperium will be assimilated and usurped.
Allying with a stronger ally risks being taken over by that ally, so he must fight against it and drag it down either to his level, or defeat it through some underhanded means.
Therefore, only one of equal or near equal stature can be trusted, as both sides cannot defeat the other without risk of severe injury. Therefore, they can trust that any conflict between them will not be worth it.

To put it in risk assessment terms:

Defeating a weaker enemy is easy, and hence has a low risk and low rewards gamble.
Defeating a stronger enemy is difficult, but winning means you gain all or some of their resoureces, which means the act of fighting those stronger than you is a high risk and high rewards gamble.

Fighting an equal is difficult, but you only get something of equal value if you win. Thus, fighting an equal is a high risk and low rewards gamble.

The Emperor probably understands this instinctively, and thus only allies with those that seem to be his equal.

The reason I have a huge chunk of this Writer Note in an Inline Spoiler is because Isha is going to explain this quirk of the Emperor/Neoth at the end when they can actually talk about things without fighting.

I've copied and pasted some other contents from various posts as well.

This chapter is a turning point

"Do not be so hasty, Neoth." Isha said as she raised a placatory hand. "We've generated a sense of rapport between us, so why not hear my answer as to why that wouldn't even work in the first place."

The Emperor paused, then slightly lowered his sword, affirming her offer to provide greater detail with silence.

...

Distant echoes of thunder rumbled overhead as the Emperor simulated the situation Isha had described, trying to find another outcome. Finally, he shook his head and raised his sword again.

...

"In the end, this is the only relationship humanity can have with Xenos." The Emperor's voice was sullen, disappointed, and tired.

...

"'What happens if the act of sacrificing one to save many is counted as murder?' was it?" The Emperor replied as he waited for Isha to finish.

Click to shrink...

The Emperor is beginning to show signs of listening to Isha. In fact, some parts have him effectively trying to find a way for them to co-exist with his plans.

He doesn't want to kill her (and he has serious doubts about whether he even can), but what he wants does not matter. He fights because he thinks it's the only way forwards, and just like with Enkidu, he cannot be convinced by simple words or logic. (as infurating as that may be)

"I fought you then, for I saw no other way to get through your thick skull." Isha retorted as she ducked under the Emperor, slashing upwards and forcing him to block her blow. "I fight you now, fully justified in my first decision." The repulsive force between her nails and his weapons threw the Emperor over her, forcing him to use more psychic energy in order to redirect himself in order to remain within Isha's boundary of safety. "You truly know nothing but violence and power. Over your 50,000 year existence, you haven't changed from that tribal barbarian who had barely started crawling out of a cave to live in a hut!"

Click to shrink...

Although, that's not entirely his fault. It is part of his Warp biology.

His violence was not a problem.
For divine beings such as them, where conflict of ideals meant conflict between their very essence, it was natural for any divergence in opinion to result in violence. Afterall, a single word of admission could mean a permanent change in their very being.

Click to shrink...

The Emperor is not used to debating other gods.

'Perhaps its nature of negating the unnatural means it has never felt the touch of another god before.' Isha mused.

The Emperor was far too eager for conflict with every encounter they had.

Click to shrink...

However, he instinctively lashes out during debates because to make a careless admission risks compromising his integrity as a god. He himself perceives it as being bothered with worthless questions that only introduce doubt, but at its core, his overbearing and confrontational attitude to most discussions when not using one of his personas is an instinctive self-defense mechanism as an immaterial entity created by thoughts and dreams.

Chaos seems to be overpowered, despite the Fall only having happened several decades ago.
It has been several decades since the Fall, and Chaos has been pressureing the Aeldari pantheon, even though they couldn't win. The Chaos gods themselves are probably about 50 or 60 thousand years old, despite existing in the Warp so their age doesn't have much meaning besides the amount of information/culture they have stored within them.

Back calculating from the time she had last measured time this way, she was surprised to realize that several decades had already passed since the Fall.

Click to shrink...

Additionally, the destruction of the Aeldari empire and pantheon have changed the balance of the galaxy and Sea of Souls. The immaterium is a timeless realm, so how long they have been in control isn't as big a problem as the fact that they are in control.

Where the Four's blows met, the Sea of Souls shook, and then space opened.
Like the eye of a mad-man awakened from a fever dream, empty space split open letting out the Chaos and cruelty of the deepest reaches of the mind into the world.
Fear and hopelessness. Terror. An eye filled with the Terror; of knowing the Primordial Truth of this new world.

Madness.
Violence.
Despair.
Selfishness.

Click to shrink...

Everywhere outside the Aeldari pantheon, and by extension the Aeldari empire did feel the effects of Chaos. That's made clear in the flashback when a Bloodletter tries to break into the materium through a mortal man (which is set somewhere aroung M14.

Gradually, the pained wail took on a different tone. Hoarse cries began to turn into a monstrous growl. But, before the Bloodletter that had been preparing to burst out of his flesh could take hold, my hand landed on his head and a jolt of golden electricity sparked from his eyes, liquifying his brain in an instant and sending his corpse to the ground with a thud.

Click to shrink...

Fighting Chaos seems hopeless, but that's usually the setting of any Warhammer story. However, even in those stories, the hero or heroine often finds victory.

Is the immaterium really timeless? The Aeldari pantheon died, and after that the Chaos gods got control. Doesn't that mean there is time in the Warp?
The immaterium is not completely timeless. It's more that cause and causality are upside down and back to front. Once a 'choice' is made, or more accurately an 'event' happens that choice/event is retroactively made to be true, even though events that predate it have happened.

It's sort of like cosmic gaslighting (i.e. lying by saying that things have always been this way, when they actually haven't because the person doing the gaslighting has changed them). If a god which could elminate the color blue came into existence, and then wiped out the color blue, the color blue would have never existed in the first place.

(Of course, because that is a paradox of cause and effect (there is no blue to eliminate, therefore the god that eliminates blue cannot exist) such a god would merely 'rename' the color blue to bleu or beul or something else. i.e. there would be no more blue, but the difference between there being no blue and there being blue is negligible.)

Just as the Aeldari empire was unburdened with all material wants and provided everything to fulfill even the most hedonistic and trivial need, the Aeldari pantheon withstood the forces of Chaos undefeated. However, just as the Aeldari empire was aloof and isolated from all other species, the Aeldari pantheon did not act as the primitive races of the galaxy wept and cried for all the death and destruction they wrought upon themselves.

This is the relationship between the immaterium and materium; a metaphysical entanglement of events and occurrences that mirror each other, yet are utterly unconnected. Coincidental poetry that simply happened to rhyme on key verses.

Click to shrink...

Gods were born from the thoughts and dreams of the species that worshiped them, and it was not the other way around, even though their legends may warp the very facts of reality to make it seem like the reverse was true.

Click to shrink...

Asuryan straightened his back, placing his arms on the armrests of the throne, bringing himself to his full seated height.

"We live in the Sea of Souls. A place where tomorrow happens before yesterday. A choice once made echoes forwards and backwards." Asuryan's eyes fixed onto Isha's and the silver flames that burned within the eyes of an otherwise rather unremarkable Aeldari seemed to rage; like a prisoner gripping the bars while thrashing and screaming to be released. "To choose even once as a god means to have chosen until the very end. There is no avoiding or preventing that."

Click to shrink...

The thing that is closest to how this metaphyscial system works is probably the game Fate/Stay NIght: Hollow Atraxia.
Warning, spoiler for the game but...you are trapped in a localised 3 day timeloop that covers the city you live in, and the main characters are not conciously aware of this. However, once certain events are completed, you do not have to complete them again in order to progress through the game. i.e. There is an enemy that you can only defeat by using the last "command seal" you have left, but once you have defeated that enemy, you can progress past that point even without having to defeat them again, because the 'fact' of you having defeated them is made 'true'. So, even though the enemy is still alive, and you haven't used your last "command seal" as you went back to the beginnig of the time loop after defeating the enemy, you no longer have to defeat the enemy because you have 'already defeated' them.

Things do happen, but once they do happen, reality makes it seem as if things have always been that way from the beginning.

So, even though Slaanesh is 'born' in M30, its nature as a Warp being in the immaterium means that its effects 'predate' its own birth.
One example of this is the Pleasure Cults. Pleasure cults and hedonists exist before Slaanesh was born, but from Slaanesh's perspective, these things had to exist before Slaanesh was born because Slaanesh 'had to be' born. Therefore, the Pleasure Cults are part of Slaanesh, even though Slaanesh does not exist before the Pleasure Cults.

It is a fatalistic way of looking at things, but it's much less that things are fatalistic because they are, but more that the Chaos gods are forcing things to be fatalistic in nature in order to appear as having always existed.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
♪1 Tsukihime [月姫] -A piece of blue glass moon - Track #27 (EXTENDED)
♪2 Tsukihime [月姫] -A piece of blue glass moon - Track #19 (EXTENDED)

—----------------------------------------
♪1
The golden tip of Isha's spear hit the Emperor's sword, and both were repelled. However, where the Emperor's sword was merely deflected, Isha's spear shattered into dust.

However, even as the Emperor's surprise slowed his return swing, Isha dove under his arm and over the knee that kicked out at her, diving through the gap between his arm and leg, as if she had expected her own weapon to break when it did.

The golden strand of hair that had been wrapped around the stone spear followed her, trailing behind her in a jagged golden line, like the waveform of a heartbeat displayed on an electrocardiogram.

Another spear shot out of the ground into Isha's hand, allowing her to vault away from the Emperor as she used its remaining velocity like a counterweight as he turned and swung behind him, giving the strand of hair time to rebind itself to the spear tip.

The Emperor's eyes narrowed when he saw the stone spear again.

It was not a simple construct of stone, but an extremely life-like replica of a worn wooden spear. There were numerous nicks and notches near the tip, as if it had parried swords or axes multiple times in the past, and even the grain of the wood was replicated on the stone's surface. However, the most concerning part of the spear was that the second was exactly the same as the first one.

"That's not your spear, is it?" The Emperor asked as he lunged at Isha again.

"Correct." Isha nodded as she parried again with just the point. This time the entire spear did not break, but the point wrapped in Isha's golden hair snapped off.

The Emperor released his aura, removing Isha's influence from their surroundings, and also subjecting her entire body to his immaterial hating Truth. It was not as potent as the supernova he had planned to release when Isha charged at him in that gradual spiral, but it should slow her movements long enough to prevent her from escaping like she had the last time her weapon broke.

However, Isha sidestepped the Emperor's blade as he swung with more force than was necessary, expecting her to be immobilized and therefore only capable of blocking.

In return, she threw the remains of her weapon at his face, forcing him to tilt his head out of the way and buying herself a few seconds to step back as another identical spear launched itself from the ground into her hand.

"This is the spear of my consort, Kurnous." Isha replied as her hair wrapped itself around the point once again. "Or at least, it is the best replication of his Truth that I can make with mine. He wasn't spared my wrath either during the war within our pantheon."

The Emperor lowered his stance, watching Isha warily as she spoke. He had been continuously decoding the information Isha had forced upon him from the very beginning, and there were no mentions of her using a spear like that.

It appeared to be just a wooden spear replicated out of stone, but it was dangerous to the Emperor. It was not a threat when used against him, but he could feel that should he ever attempt to wield or grab it he would lose. He had attempted to suffuse the third spear with his immaterium hating Truth as it traveled upwards towards Isha, but he felt an unpleasant sensation as he drew close to it with his psychic essence and withdrew.

"It is a good thing you didn't attempt to touch it." Isha smiled as she ran her fingers over the spear. "My consort was the God of the Hunt, and his legend was that he taught all the Aeldari how to hunt in order to survive." She twirled the spear in one hand, before catching it in both and pointing it at the Emperor. "Of course, my beloved Eldanesh made sure to obfuscate what exactly we hunted to survive in all our legends before his passing."

"The Necron and their Star Gods" The Emperor muttered grimly.

"Indeed, this spear is a representation of his miracle. His gift of knowledge to my children so they could survive during the War in Heaven." Isha chuckled as the two began to circle each other. "Its effects are close to that Apollonian version of the twin spears you made."

The Apollonian and Dionysian spears were twin weapons the Emperor forged upon Terra. Both weapons were well made, but their true power lay in their esoteric abilities.

The Apollonian spear would show the 'truth' of whatever its blade impaled to the wielder.
The Dionysian spear would show the 'truth' of whatever its blade impaled to the victim.

The Spear of Kurnous itself was only a weapon when wielded against the Emperor, but should he ever try to wield it himself, he would experience the same thing as when Isha forced her memories upon him.

No, it would be far worse. There was no guarantee that it would only be 40 or 50 thousand years of information that he received. That spear contained 60 million years worth of war knowledge and battle tactics and its miracle was the provision of knowledge. The speed of data transfer would far exceed Isha's.

"So, knowledge really is power." The Emperor snorted. "I guess I have your Eldanesh to blame for this situation as well?"

At every turn, he had been outwitted by the Aeldari goddess. What she did and how she acted did not match with the plain reading of her legends. It was as if someone had rephrased everything, disseminating the details with context clues that formed a sort of code that could only be deciphered if one understood all Aeldari history.

"Indeed." Isha nodded. "He knew that his death would make the edict permanent, so he ensured both the Aeldari that came after him and his followers as well as any other alien would never know how we functioned or what we really were. Our legends would be accurate enough to maintain us, but be too vague to understand without the appropriate context."

The Emperor grimaced. He had been decoding more and more of Isha's information, and there was an unsettling fact about the type of information that was being decoded.

As a Goddess of Life, the Emperor expected there to be large catalogs of genetic information and biomantic knowledge. However, although there was information relating to those subjects a greater percentage of the information seemed more to do with geology, meteorological manipulation, fluid dynamics, and other seemingly unrelated subjects that dealt more with physics and chemistry instead of just biology.

At first, he thought it was simply because she was perceived to be a maternal spirit of the earth, but the concepts contained in Isha's information were diverging further and further from his original assumptions.

AAAA curse BBBB …
CCCC possession DDDD …
XXXX overwrite YYYY …

These few bits of this particular portion of her information were all linked, and composed an entire process that took up a large portion of what Isha was. However, they seemed utterly disconnected from the concept of life, motherhood, love, or mercy.

'Is this what she inherited from Khaine?' He thought to himself.

Isha was the daughter of Khaine and Morai Heg. The function of this portion of her was a mystery to him, but whatever it was it did not have a positive connotation. It was like looking at a massive machine made of some sort of obsidian alloy that oozed black tar from every joint and rivet. Whether it was an industrial tool or weapon of war was impossible to tell. All he could understand was that it was large, and it was dangerous; like staring up at a tunnel boring machine meant to chew threw the ocean floor with massive grinding diamond coated teeth.

The Emperor lept forwards again, and retracted his aura for a brief moment before letting it out in a small pulse as he swung with his sword, and swiped with his talons.

Isha's spear tip met his sword and deflected it without breaking, but his talons cut right through the middle of the spear's shaft between Isha's hands. However, as his pulse enveloped Isha, her skin flashed gold for a moment and both gods jumped backwards away from each other.

"I see now." The Emperor muttered.

Isha had taken in his Truth, but she was still as vulnerable to it as she was back on the Bucephelus. He had wondered why only her hair and nails seemed to hold his Truth, but with that flash of gold from her skin, he fully understood how exactly she was using his Truth.

"Nails, hair, the very surface layer of skin. All of those are dead tissue. That's why you can use my Truth."

Isha had first blocked the Emperor's sword with a dead tree binding. Although it was mostly to block the spell of forced slumber, it was also to protect herself from the burning touch of his Truth. That was why Isha was both vulnerable to his Truth, yet still capable of wielding it against him. She expressed his Truth on the parts of her that were 'dead' and hence not affected by his Truth.

Her skin was currently coated in a very thin layer of his Truth, for only the very top layer of skin is dead. It was too thin to provide any protection against a blow, but it would reflect any unfocussed pulse of his Truth like sunscreen.

"That spear has also been restricted." The Emperor said as he raised his sword once more. "It's not supposed to be so brittle." A brief image of an Aeldari man wielding the same spear, but composed of actual wood flashed in his mind. "Generations. That is the part of your Truth that allows you to use Kurnous's spear."

"That, and the fact that it only works against lethal force." Isha shrugged slightly, admitting to another weakness of her current weapon. "Only the most extreme selective pressure allows me to improve it, and all those improvements are eventually lost to me when I pass them on. All of these are restrictions Kurnous never had. He would have figured out what you were far quicker than I ever could." She smiled as the Emperor grimaced.

It was as she said, the Emperor was attempting to kill Isha. There were no more flashy moves; no more excessive blasts of psychic energy fired in the hopes to deplete her faster than himself. All his focus was upon his weapons and his body, just as it had been when he slew the Void Dragon.

This was no longer a battle of stamina for the Emperor.

He may be able to deplete Isha's reserves eventually, but realistically speaking it was not the best option. He was acting as Isha said he would. All who learned of the Emperor's plan had to be killed or kill the Emperor. Whether they were alien or human, it didn't matter. Neither side could be trusted with this knowledge.

Additionally, Isha was now using Kurnous's spear against him. He was the God of the Hunt, and his miracle was the act of teaching the Aeldari how to hunt the Necron and their Star Gods. However…

"He was not an omniscient god." The Emperor said as he charged forwards again.

"He wasn't, for how could he. He was meant to be the teacher of my children." Isha replied as she caught the Emperor's sword with her spear tip in a brief bind, sliding the golden point along the blade before jabbing forwards, forcing the sword to pass by her head centimeters from one of her long pointed ears.

"The only way for him to learn what he had to teach was by finding it out himself, so he walked amongst my children as one of them and found ways to defeat their enemies with only mortal means." She swiftly unbound her weapon from his, and swung it so the point knocked his talons aside as she ducked under the return swing of his sword.

"He learned from Vaul, sparred with Khaine, borrowed Hekarti's sight, and took the bodies of all those who believed in them so he could see the world through their eyes and feel it through their hands, all so his spear could better fit their fingers."

The Emperor kicked out at her, both of his weapons having missed or been deflected, and his boot landed in the middle of her spear, shattering it in two and pushing Isha away from him where another spear was already shooting out of the ground to replace the one she had lost.

"A learning and training program for the biological weapons that were the Aeldari." The Emperor muttered as he regained his footing.

That was Kurnous's role in the weapon system that was the Aeldari pantheon.

"If you wish to phrase it that way, then yes. That was what he was." Isha said with a sigh.

"And this is his legend recreated with your Truth." The Emperor frowned as he decoded another line of the information Isha had forced upon him with the symbolic visual effects Kurnous's spear displayed. "A fundamental improvement of capability over generations."

"The passing on of lessons from the old to the new."

That was how Isha used a Truth that was not her own. Kurnous's Truth was the process of learning and adapting mimetically and technologically to an obstacle. Isha's interpreted that as the physical adaptation of things due to external pressures, in other words, evolution.

Isha's version of Kurnous's spear was getting stronger. Every version took longer to destroy, and the golden hair that had been simply wrapped around the tip was now forming a visible golden edge on the spear's point while stretching downwards as well. Numerous new bindings had begun to reach from the point to the base of the spear, forming a sort of gilded pattern that resembled a conjoined set of runes written in cursive script.

No, it was no longer just stone. He could see parts of the obsidian rock had been replaced by a brownish metal; copper.

"You called my love and my Truth evil." Isha gave a sad smile as she spoke. "I admit it, you are not wrong. There is evil in my love, and to live is to suffer, but life itself is not suffering."

"Then what is it?" The Emperor asked as he charged again.

"The purpose of life is to eliminate suffering." Isha retorted as she met his sword with her spear, binding the two as she leveraged her longer weapon against the tip of his. "Creatures grow, mate, pass on genetic traits, and eventually become intelligent enough so mimetic ideas can also be passed down to better adapt their offspring to their environment." She stepped back, avoiding a swipe of his talons, then shifted her spear, forcing his sword outwards while putting the shaft between her and his armored knee. "With each coming child, their lives become easier and less harsh as their bodies and minds become better suited for the world around them." The black obsidian rock snapped in half upon impact with his knee guard, but the two halves of her weapon remained connected with a single strand of her hair. "The past generation should leave a better place for the present and future ones, for a child shall always be ignorant of their parents' pain." She jammed the bottom half of what remained of her spear's shaft in between the Emperor's talons, and jumped back as the Emperor overpowered her other arm and brought his sword back, cutting the air she had occupied before.

"That is the Truth of life as I define it." Isha said confidently as a new spear made entirely of bronze shot itself in her hand. "As the mother of all Aeldari, I shall take all that they suffer within my breast, and cleanse its source with my sorrowful tears." The golden strand of hair left the remains of her previous weapon, shooting towards her in a zigzag line and binding itself on her new one in an even more intricate pattern. "That is my miracle. That is the blessing of the Goddess of Life, and the nature of my love."

The Emperor paused for a moment, as he felt something ripple within him.

"You have a similar concept within yourself, do you not?" Isha spoke as she raised her spear to his face.

The Emperor snorted and continued his attack, but he felt her words seep through to him. No, it was resonating with the information she had given him as they fell through space. Her concepts of life and love had been given to him in data format, and he could unpack them now that what they contained had been expressed in a language they both shared.

'Humanity is a species of failures, losers, and fools. But, they always rise no matter how arrogant or ignorant their actions may seem.'

Those were the words the Emperor himself had expressed to Isha when he threw off the shadows that were the Aeldari memories Isha forced upon him.

He too had seen the social, economic, and technological rebirth of human society many times. Each time there were failures. Each time there were losses. Each time there were fools who brought the end to ages of peace and years of combined labor. However, the story never ended there.

Separated tribes gathered together, forming kingdoms that consumed each other to form empires.

These in turn crumbled under their own weight as their own mistakes built up over the eons, giving birth to new kingdoms and fiefdoms.

Such smaller countries eventually collapsed due to or evolved in fear of revolution of their own people, morphing into constitutional monarchies which eventually turned into democracies.

All the while, new technologies grew, were forgotten then rediscovered, and evolved allowing more and more people to survive and flourish.

And through all of that, every group produced their own hero. Not all were good. Not all were successful. But, they all stood up with the best intentions.

Even as their dreams burned to cinders around them, they looked up to the sky in defiance, ready to rise again if only given the chance.

'Vive la France!' A young girl with brunette hair shouted out under a blue sky with a sword raised high while riding a horse in knight armor.

'Vir triumphalis!' Hundreds of people in white togas cried out as a man in purple robes and a golden laurel crown stood on a marble balcony overlooking all of them.

'For home and country!'' A battered man in an old olive green military uniform yelled as he clambered out from a muddy trench with a bolt action rifle and bayonet, only to be followed by his entire platoon across a torn battlefield filled with barbed wire and machine gun fire as artillery boomed in the background.

African ululations and Native American war whoops rang in his ears as the conjoined memories of every hero who had reached him, all those who he thought had merely melted into his essence stood at his back.

Men and women of good and evil, selfish and selfless in their nature returned from the ancient and recent past.

He was them, and they were him.

Humanity as a whole might have failed themselves, but it did not mean that every single one was unsuccessful. If they were, he would not have been made, and these heroes and heroines would not have risen from the mortal realm to meet him at the golden double doors before the golden halls that composed his heart and mind.

A small smile crossed the Emperor's lips and the same one alighted on the face of every past hero who stood at his back. They suffered as he did, and rejoiced when he did. Now, they remembered themselves as he remembered them. He was God of the Heroes of humanity, and it was from their fortitude that he drew his strength; their resolve to remain in this dark world despite everything that allowed him to continue.

He himself had said it. Humanity would rise no matter what.

"I do!" The Emperor roared out as his sword sliced through Isha's spear in a single blow, forcing her to hurriedly hop backwards. "Heroes fight against evil, and even if they fall their legend is taken up by the next. A single failure gives no reason to abandon all hope for eternity. Humanity rises from its failures, and in doing so progresses forwards! They may at times take more steps back than they do forwards, but that doesn't mean the dream to take that leap forwards is meaningless!"

That was something Neoth had always known, and the reason his words resonated so with all humanity. But, just like the act of riding a bike or driving a car, he had left that knowledge in only his motor memory, forgetting to think about it with his conscious mind.

Now, the rust fell off of his heart, and the golden glow of his eternal resolve shone through.

"That is why I walk this path!" The Emperor shouted as he chased Isha while she backed away from him, buying time for the next generation of Kurnous's spear to form. "I am the hero of humanity! Even if the solution damns me and everyone else but them to eternal suffering, as long as humanity is saved, the method does not matter!"

That was the reason for proceeding with his plan. He could no longer stop, and no longer relent. Isha may have rekindled his flame, but she had also rejected his plan. Therefore, the only thing he could do was strike her down faster and stronger with the power she had reawakened in him.

Another generation of Kurnous's spear splintered under the Emperor's assault, but his frown deepened. The materials making the spear were no longer a metal he recognized. Hundreds of generations had been struck down, but each time a stronger variant shot into Isha's hand. The golden strand of hair now gilded the entire weapon, splitting apart into hundreds of runes that emblazoned both the shaft and spearhead. Furthermore, it no longer returned to the strand of hair between generations, but appeared on the new generation as if it had been premade with his Truth.

He could not allow this to proceed any further.

Aeldari material sciences may be an alien topic to him, but he knew what the greatest and most ubiquitous material they used was.

Wraithbone.

That was the current pinnacle of Aeldari materials, and that was where Kurnous's spear was proceeding towards.

That spear was the representation of Kurnous's legend and miracle. But adaptation was only the first half of its story. The second half was the teaching of the lessons learned by Kurnous to the children of Isha. If that spear reached the generation that was made out of Wraithbone, it could be used by any Aeldari who learned of it. He could not let its evolution proceed any further, and he could not allow Isha to exist now that she had learned of his plan.

As Isha stepped away from the Emperor, he suddenly turned and shot away from her; towards the valley where Kyrazis's ship fell where the delimbed remains of the Psychomatons lay.

Isha narrowed her eyes while letting out a brief snort as a thin angry smile crossed her face.

"I guess he's started to use his head a little."

Then the ground opened up and swallowed her.

—----------------------------------------

The Emperor ran towards the Psychomatons. He did not use a Warp portal, nor did he run at full speed. He did not want to take them hostage or kill them outright. All he wanted was to give Isha a reason to attack.

Every blow between them came out in the Emperor's favor, but his inability to predict when her weapon would shatter and when it would withstand him meant Isha always had the upperhand in the mental portion of their melee. He could predict and feint as much as he wanted, but he would have to strike Isha if he intended to kill her. Meanwhile, Isha merely defended against him and retreated perfectly whenever her weapon finally gave out, taking in its failure as part of her retreat. Thus, only her weapon was destroyed momentarily before it was reforged into a new evolved and improved form.

At this rate, Isha's spear would reach its final form, and whatever plan she had been fomenting in her alien brain would come to fruition.

Whether it was good or bad, he could not foresee, but he still saw the same two possibilities for humanity he saw on the Bucephelus before him.

The island across the ocean, and the stone coffin that turned into a crystal prison.

Quite frankly, he didn't know which outcome led to which. It was possible through some twisted trap his victory was what entombed him in that new future Isha brought with her, but as long as Isha rejected his plan to save humanity he could only act against her in order to complete it.

The ground before the Emperor opened, and he retracted his touch from it to allow Isha to burst out towards him. His objective was her death, and not to delay her. The faster she approached him, the faster she would attack, and the faster he could counter-attack.

"Paradoxical problem solving." Isha smirked as she shot out of the ground at him. "You're no longer just a charging bull anymore."

It was a contradictory conclusion that the Emperor reached; pulling back in order to draw her in so he could go to the next step of killing her faster. At the same time, he put her at a further disadvantage.

Isha could only attack him if she had her weapon. Therefore, if she allowed him to destroy her spear, he would proceed towards the Psychomatons while she reforged another one and eventually reach them. Thus, she could not afford to allow her weapon to be destroyed, despite that being the method by which she improved it.

Even if she allowed her weapon to be destroyed, and attacked him barehanded, that would only work to the Emperor's advantage.

Retreat to attack. Forced offensive resulting in compulsory conservatism that would stifle Isha's progress.

Contradicting concepts that led to the outcome the Emperor would benefit from most.

"Don't you have some other insult to throw at me?" The Emperor snorted as he blocked her first stab with his sword, binding the two blades together, and struck out with his talons.

"Why?" Isha snorted as she twisted her body sideways, avoiding his talons as she shoved her spear forwards, sparking against his blade. "These actions are in perfect alignment with what you are. To call it underhanded or unfair would be like being angry at a rock for being hard or calling a dog a mutt." She shoved her spear with both hands, forcing his sword out of the way as she stepped onto his knee, burning her foot, and kicked off to bring her other knee rocketing towards his face. "You think of yourself as the cheat here, but rest assured, I have watched my beloved Eldanesh do far worse."

"You called them your children." The Emperor retorted, referring to the Psychomatons, as he twisted his head while leaning sideways simultaneously, causing Isha's knee to only tear the collar of his chest plate. Smoke rose from where his armor contacted her bare skin, but she continued past him with her remaining momentum. However, even as she traveled past his ear, he spun around, swinging at her with his clenched left gauntlet.

"And I stand between them and you because of that, but I cannot insult you for your actions." A green barrier appeared at her back, deforming like a pillow and dissipating his strike, slowing his fist long enough for Isha to travel past him. "Your actions are made to survive, and from that perspective there is no good or evil in my eyes." She twirled mid air, preparing to slash with her spear only to retract as the Emperor's sword prepared to meet her weapon. "I merely oppose you because I do not like what you do. Not because you are evil and I am good."

"This is what the hero does." Her feet dug into the dirt as she landed before launching herself at him again. "No matter the cost, they achieve victory. Even in death, martyrdom is the prize they claim with cold fingers. There is no good or evil in that, merely victory or defeat."

Survival of the fittest. That was the mercy Isha allowed.

Her own hero, Eldanesh, sent his own species into the grinders of war many times. Each time, his hands caused the deaths of many, but he and his species survived every battle.

After the War in Heaven, when the Krork he had allied with appeared too aggressive, he tricked, lied, flattered, and lost on purpose in order to fatten them with so much confidence that they began to tear at each other; destroying them as a species and devolving their genetic code and culture to the point only tangled garbage was left.

Those acts and many others were not done honorably or sincerely, but all of them were eventually forgiven by the mother of the Aeldari.

Thus, the mother who wept for the suffering of the Psychomatons stood between them and the Master of Mankind without angry insults or harsh words. She could both forgive and never allow his actions at the same time.

Neoth felt something pass through him, another concept forced onto him from Isha resonated within his own psyche.

The single line that was the spectrum between hero and villain, depending on perspective, swayed and bent. Then, the two opposite ends twisted, slammed into each other, and were welded together with golden sparks forming a single circle with no inside or outside.

Hero or villain, they may walk in opposite directions, but the role each character played in every story of humanity pushed his species forwards. They existed on opposite sides of the circle, diametrically opposed to the other, but even as they faced away from each other, their feet rotated the contorted circle in the same direction.

No, it was not just a circular möbius strip they moved, but a golden wheel that rotated around the axle of humanity. This burning core at the center of the wheel occasionally sends up blazing comets from it that trail flaming tails behind them like the spokes of a bicycle tire as another hero or heroine joined with the God of Heroes.

He was still the Anathema. He was still both hero and villain, but he was no longer conflicted about what he was.

He was the God of humanity's Heroes, and the eternal symbol of their progress. Within him was their entire history, with all their failures and all their successes.

Whatever humanity did, whatever mistakes they made, they were still worthy.

Neoth turned away from Isha, and proceeded towards the Psychomatons again.

Isha charged towards him, but was forced back by a series of blows that threatened to cut through her spear. But, even as she retreated away from him, Neoth did not give chase. He merely turned away from her, and proceeded towards Isha's remaining children.

He proceeded forwards, but his passage was no longer that of a berserk steam engine; boiler on the brink of bursting open from overheating. There was only a being of pure determination that would not relent in its purpose.

"How does it feel to have a portion of your sanity restored, Neoth?" Isha called out at the golden armored figure turned away from her.

"It only makes me doubt yours." He retorted as he slowly accelerated forwards, increasing his pace from a fast walk to a brisk jog. "Whatever you do, I cannot stop."

"True." Isha smirked, and her spear split apart into multiple sections with a flick of her wrist. "But, at the very least your choices have increased from simply crashing into a wall or smashing through it."

"Then can you stop me?" Neoth called out as he broke out into a run.

"That's a choice you'll have to make yourself." Isha laughed as she flicked the whip her spear had turned into towards Neoth, wrapping around his sword arm and pulling him back towards her as she leveraged the handle and chains of the whip around the elbow of her other arm. "I told you before, 'It is you who sees the crossroad that must choose which direction to go in order to end up in the same place.'"

"Stop repeating yourself!" Neoth cried out as he wrapped the chain links of the whip around his arm and pressed his sword against it in preparation to cut it. "As long as I am human, and you are an alien, there can be no peace between us!"

"Do not worry, I'm not that idealistic." Isha chuckled as she unwrapped the whip from her elbow, slackening it before flicking it again to snatch the other end out of Neoth's grip. "But, my objective is not to confuse you. Besides, it has the opposite effect of slowing you down. You accelerate towards your goal the greater number of uncertainties exist."

"Then what is your plan, Isha?!" Neoth roared as he jumped away from her again, free from her whip, closing the distance with the Psychomatons. He was in range to fire a psychic beam, and it would pierce right through Wraithbone and blackstone bodies of the Psychomatons there. They would not be able to avoid him with their missing and broken limbs. "You said that the act of preventing unnecessary deaths and the act of saving the greatest number of people are effectively the same thing, and I agree! I do not want to kill needlessly, but I cannot stop without an alternate answer!"

The whip retracted back into a spear, then arched itself while sending strings of psychic energy between point and base to form a longbow; psychic energy gathering in the center forming 3 bone white arrows with golden points.

"Even if I told you now, you wouldn't stop." Isha called out as she let loose all three arrows, guiding them along separate paths with her psychic touch as she leapt forwards, chasing them as her bow reformed itself into a spear. "Afterall, I only came up with my plan after seeing yours."

"Then there is no other path for us." Neoth turned to face Isha grimly as she and her arrows approached. All four attacks came from above, the sides and straight towards him near simultaneously. Isha traveled only milliseconds behind the arrows.

"I told you already, there is only one path." Isha smiled as she shot towards him. "For better or for worse, you and I are stuck together for the foreseeable future."

Neoth's sword slashed through the arrow on his right with his sword straight down the middle from point to fletchings, and his taloned gauntlet caught the one coming from his left. A psychic bolt deflected the one from above, allowing him to tilt his head to the side to let it shoot past his ear.

Milliseconds later, Isha's spear punched through his chest plate, then stopped at the skin underneath; the flesh and blood of the God of Heroes containing the now unwavering core of the original Truth held firm against the alien copy.

Neoth kicked out at Isha with his right boot, and fired a series of psychic bolts that twisted like drill bits at the same time.

Isha's green brown barrier reappeared, but the soft surface was pulled taut as Neoth's psychic beams drilled into it. Each beam rotated counter to the one opposite to it, stretching the flexible membrane and allowing the full force of the golden boot to tear right through it slamming into Isha's chest.

There was a crack, and the Aeldari goddess was flung backwards, bouncing across the ground like a skipping stone thrown across a lake, sending clouds of debris with each bound.
♪1 END
Neoth's breath was heavy with exhaustion as he watched the alien eventually come to a rest far off in the distance and obscured in a dust cloud. His right gauntlet crushed the arrow still held between his talons before yanking out the spear still trapped in his armor and snapping it in half.

It was only because Isha traveled milliseconds behind her arrows that he had gambled with his life.

Isha's version of his Truth came from himself before she had forced her memories upon him, and before he reconciled what he was. Thus, it would be weaker than what he was now, just like Kurnous's spear was a weaker version of the original. The fact that his sword could cut through her spear even though it was gilded with his Truth, and the fact that he cut through one of the gold tipped arrows Isha had shot at him provided further evidence. He hadn't expected his skin to be what stopped her, but it didn't matter now. He had won the gamble.

The hole in his chest plate closed as Neoth recovered his strength.

He could still feel Isha's presence in the distance, but she wasn't moving. Whether it was another trap, or she was so injured she was no longer mobile he couldn't tell.

For a brief moment, he couldn't decide whether to proceed towards the Psychomatons to force Isha to attack him again, or walk towards the goddess.

Far off in the distance, he heard a cough, then Isha's voice sent a shiver down his neck.

"You wavered."
♪2
The dust settled slowly as Isha's words reached him. The goddess was lying on the ground with her back to the sky, looking up at him with a pained smile. Her voice was shivering, as if she couldn't get enough air to properly speak, but her silvery eyes were unwaveringly fixed on Neoth's own brown eyes.

"If you wanted to kill me, you should have proceeded towards my children. That was your solution in order to shift the balance in your favor, but you wavered."

Neoth tried to turn away from her, back to the Psychomatons, but his feet wouldn't move. The remains of the shadows that he had discarded, all the information that Isha had forced onto him he could not understand were wrapping around him again.

"It would be hard not to feel sympathy or empathy for the thing that helped you, and the alien you once sought help from. The insane madman would not be able to hear my words with his ears filled with his own crazed laughter, but you can. Those emotions will be enough to connect you to the remains of what I gave you."

Neoth grimaced and struggled against the shadows, slowly lifting himself out of them as they sucked and sapped at his limbs, like the thick wet substrate that makes quicksands.

"For the briefest of moments, you saw me as a maternal figure." Isha's voice regained its strength as she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

A pained glare was all Neoth could manage. He had been conflicted for the briefest of moments, unable to understand whether the creature before him was here to help or hurt him. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure whether this was a malicious act either.

All he could tell was that, whatever she was planning, it linked back to that massive machine mentioned in the information he couldn't comprehend. It composed a large part of her being, and he visualized it as being made of obsidian alloys and leaking black tar. However, it was not made of any actual material. What it was actually created from was emotions; the blackest and darkest emotions imaginable condensed and hardened into a horrid construct.

"Don't worry, this isn't enough to enslave or affect you in any permanent way." Isha chuckled as she dusted herself off. "But it is enough for you to understand the rest of what I gave you."

The emotion slowly drained away from her face.

"You wanted to know of my plan, but you wouldn't be able to understand it without knowing what sort of god I am."

Isha's wide open eyes began to water, filling with blackish red liquid the color of partially clotted blood.

"My children know what I am instinctively, and their memories now lie within you, Neoth. They remember me with every fiber of their being. I just needed the right emotions to form within you to connect them."

The tears in her eyes overflowed, trickling down her cheeks and dripping down her chin into her raised palm.

"Synesthesia is what you call it, isn't it? The psychological illusions of sense brought up by conjoined memories, like remembering a person after seeing the place you often met them, or imagining gentle forest sunlight when hearing the conjoined songs of bright birds. That emotion you felt will allow you to access everything else, although you are actively resisting it."

The trickles of tears grew, forming rivers that washed down her face and pooled in the open hand held in front of her beast.

"Fine then. Allow me to assist you with a lullaby."

Isha's mouth opened, and the lullaby she sang to the child on the slave carriers slithered its way into Neoth's ears, connecting his synapses with the shadows, allowing everything to be understood and experienced in a single instance.

Hush my child, close your eyes.
The time has come for you to rise.

Bone and body made unbreakable.
Heart and mind made indestructible.

Hush my child, close your eyes.
Forever shall I be at your side.

Rest and slumber, dream and doubt.
I shall love you, where they shall not.

Hush my child, close your eyes.
For when you wake, you shall fight.

This war is yours, this strife your right.
And when you cry, I will see your spite.

Hate me. Hate me, with all your heart.
My tear will fill with all your might.

Hush my child, close your eyes.
Your story ends, but not your life.​

"Now, Neoth." Isha said with an empty smile as burgundy tears continued to flow from her wide open eyes. "Watch a brief moment from the War in Heaven."

The blackish red liquid that flowed from Isha's eyes pooled and congealed in her palm as it began to crystalize, slowly growing into a glowing teardrop the size of her head that bathed the ground around her in red and black lights.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N I'm not going to be putting as much effort in these sections, because I want to prioritise the main story. My story makes a lot of references to other real world events or mythology, so I've made these to elaborate since some of the symbolism and references are hard to get for some non-native speakers as well as younger native speakers.
The way I've organized it is by chapter. Some of these might be quite short. I'll just put any random bits of irony/references/foreshadowing I've made here.

Title: This chapter title goes over the topics covered by Isha. Her philosophy on life, the nature of her love, the definition of her mercy, and a very brief peak at Kurnous and her miracles.

Main Part: The Aeldari names for their gods are often misleading, as shown with Kurnous and Asuryan. They make sense with the proper context, but as they are often perceived without it, the names are misleading at best.

Warhammer Fantasy has Kurnous as just being your average hunter deity, but I'm going for a more metaphorical description with each god.

Isha's philosophy on life is self-sacrificial in nature. Her personality is the parent portion of the relation between past and future generations. Therefore, her own self-perceived function is to shoulder the suffering of her children. Of course, she cannot do that for all of them, and it isn't healthy to do so for both of them, and she understands that. That's why the only thing she can do is destroy the source of their suffering with her tears.

As a side note, we need to have 1 or maybe 2 interludes to properly set-up the next chapter, so you'll all have to wait. Not every one knows that spirit stones are harvested from the Crone Worlds of the Aeldari empire, or the fact that they explode like bombs if damaged.

 

[Nidhog153]

806.M30: Personal Diary Cpt. Maxil Celest of the Astral Adventurer

After many years of traveling with one of the aliens called the Eldar (She prefers to be called an Outcast with a capital O for some reason, but since the word looks rather lonely to me, I have decided against using it as much as possible.), I have finally gained enough trust to receive one of the red and black crystals she always carries with her she calls Spirit Stones. (As always, I cannot mention her name in any official or unofficial documents, as that was our agreement when she boarded, but it is the same woman as always.)

Of course, it was made very clear to me that they were not to be pawned off like the other contraband I often deal with, but I assured her that I would never part with such a fascinating specimen. Besides being beautiful to look at, there is a distinct sense of calm that falls over me when I stare into it, like that drowsy sensation one gets just before falling asleep.

There were a number of restrictions I had to agree with before she handed me these Spirit Stones, and she made it very clear that this was an exceptional event. Her exact words were, "It is only because your fate and mine are intertwined for the foreseeable future that I even allow you to touch them."

Naturally, I asked her if this was some roundabout way of proposal by her species. Her answer was an annoyed glare followed by a pinch to the nose, a kick to the shins, and a twisting of both my nipples in opposite directions as I hopped on one leg while holding my face.

The restrictions she gave me were threefold.

1. Do not damage the Spirit Stone in any way.
Apparently, these crystals already contain a small amount of psychic energy, and disrupting the "psychoactive crystalline data matrix" could result in all of that energy being released. I asked how big the explosion would be, and she told me it would be big enough that I would have nothing to worry about any more. (I have taken to interpret this phrase as meaning I will be dead. Of course, this phrase has also been used whenever I ask too many personal questions, so it can also be interpreted that whatever answer I will get will be meaningless because she will murder me afterwards. In this case, I'm not sure whether it's the explosion that will kill me, or the Eldar as recompense for being careless with her gift.)

2. Do not sell or show the Spirit Stone to anyone.
The process of collecting the raw materials to make one of these is quite hazardous, according to her. The Eldar have to travel near the Eye of Terror and recover shards of these crystals from "Crone Worlds", or "the skies suffused with the suffering of billions". After that, they have to refine and fuse smaller fragments and crystalline dust together in order to grow the crystal to the appropriate size. Finally, certain spells are in-laid within the crystal in order for it to passively "draw in the song of the mind and the whispers of the heart." They are priceless to her and her people, and it is only because the ones I have are "empty" that she can provide them to me without being turned into a pariah among her people. (I pointed out that she already calls herself an Outcast, and she tried to pinch my nose again. I guarded my face this time, so she instead had to satisfy herself by twisting my ears. They are still sore, several hours later.)

3. Keep the Spirit Stone on my person as often as possible, even when I am asleep.
This was the final restriction she gave me, and I had to try very hard not to ask again if this was some roundabout marital custom amongst her people. According to her, "the time of our shared travels as aliens to each other is coming to an end." and she wants to "keep a memento of the times shared as Outcasts of our respective people." I asked her if she planned to leave soon, but she simply shook her head and said that she could "afford to wait until the last minute."

My ship, my crew, and myself have been saved by her foresight numerous times, so I'm not sure how to interpret her last restriction. We could be approaching a danger she cannot prevent, or it might be that she has simply decided to move on. It has been 50 years since I first met her, and I have not seen her act maliciously against me during that time. If it is the former that is coming, then I would prefer not to know when or how the end will come. Some of my crew have had the misfortune of pestering the Eldar about their future, and when she does finally lose her patience and tell them what they want to know, it never ends well for them.

Perhaps that is the reason for her coming departure. Some of the crew have tried to converse with me in private about their worries about the Eldar. They think she makes her prophecies in such a way it dooms whoever hears them, convincing them to do things they wouldn't have had she not spoken of them.

I have done my best to assuage their fears, but there is a definite tension in the air. I can feel it from their minds, and that niggling voice that's always been in the back of my head has begun to whisper to me again of danger.

I see the same image over and over again in my mind, the flashing barrel of a gun firing at my face. I get these visions from time to time. Sometimes they come true, sometimes they don't.

I've written these same words in this diary like a madman every few pages. 'Sometimes they come true, sometimes they don't.' I guess it's my way of coping with this patchy vision of the future. Nothing is worse than thinking things can't change, and the mere thought of fatalism often makes the image self-fulfilling.

I have talked to the Eldar many times regarding my visions, but perhaps that was the first time I ever saw her laugh when I spoke to her of that.

"You see into the Othersea, of course your belief in the outcome affects the results. But, you're not wrong to find that thought to be quixotic. Afterall, how can you intentionally disbelieve something you've seen if you've seen it and believed it could happen in the first place? Even other Eldar struggle with that concept."

A weight lifted off my shoulders when I heard that. Even her supposedly all-knowing species struggled with the future. It might not have been an answer, but it was heartwarming to know that there were others who struggled just as I did.

We talked about random things after that. Despite the Eldar's extreme age, she enjoys reading human fairytales and travel novels. She said something about adventure being what kept her on the path of the Outcast. As an attempt to show thankfulness for her words, I shared my digital anthology of ancient human literature with her (A copy scavenged from a dead STC core we once found.). She has taken a particular interest in 'Gulliver's Travels' for some reason. "A surprising coincidence, or perhaps another insight from the Othersea." I heard her muttering to herself as she skimmed through it.

As always, I feel like I both understand and don't understand her at the same time.

—----------------------------------------

809.M30: Bounty Report: X11T134FZD

Target: Maxil Celest

Crime: Espionage on behalf of Xenos (Class: Eldar)

Report: Informant provided travel plans for the Astral Adventurer and the ship was intercepted in space outside of any regional planet's sovereignty.

All defenses were shut-off thanks to internal collaborators, and boarding proceeded smoothly. Target was found in his room, and executed via a shot to the forehead. Death confirmed at 08:11:15 XZT.

No sign of the Eldar was found onboard, and none of the informants or crew had knowledge of where it went. Personal artifacts of the target were searched, but no evidence of Xenos artifacts could be found. Additionally, all personal and operational logs of the ship were wiped. It appears that the target had some sort of unknown augmetic that linked his biosigns to the ship's main cogitator and his personal terminal.

Due to the sensitive nature of the target's crime, all informants and remaining witnesses have been liquidated as requested and the Astral Adventurer has been vented of all atmosphere and fuel before being left adrift.

As the primary objective of the bounty has been satisfied, we expect full payment within 3 standard weeks. Your offer for the recovery of the Xenos and whatever artifacts it carried has been considered, but due to the dangers associated with following the Eldar beyond ex-federation space, we will not continue to pursue the secondary bounty regardless of the payment offered.

We hope to continue working with you in the future.

Kind regards,

XXXXXXXXX

—----------------------------------------

"H-w is y-u- ne- b-d-, Maxil?"

A gentle voice cut in and out as I floated in something. Everything was cold, deathly cold. Yet, I could not shiver to warm myself.

"It w-ll b- d-scomf-rt-ng f-r a wh-le, b-t th-s is on-y a t-mp-rary one."

Slowly, sight returned to me. Everything was cloudy and out of focus, as if looking through eyes clogged with eyesand.

Suddenly, I felt something gigantic poking my head.

"There…" An Eldar woman said as she looked down at me. "That should make things clearer."

Slowly, I looked up. It was a familiar face I saw, but much larger than I remembered. She chuckled as I looked around at my surroundings; confused. Everything was much much larger than it was supposed to be.

"It must be disconcerting, to suddenly realize what it feels like to be a Lilliputian." She laughed as she poked my head again with a giant finger.

No, it was myself that was much smaller than I remembered. I looked down at myself, and instead of my clothes or pink skin everything was replaced by smooth bonelike material.

"As I said, that Wraithdoll is only a temporary vessel." She said as she turned away. "I was waiting for you to wake up to confirm your mind and heart were stable enough before going to Commorragh. Your story can restart there."

The name of the place she was taking me to darkened my mind. I should know what that name meant, but my drowsy thoughts were fogged and slow to form. However, I could tell that I did not want to go there.

"Do not worry. You will be safe with me. The copies of Astral Adventurer's flight logs and your personal terminal I took before I left should be enough to cover the costs for safe passage and your body. Information is an important commodity in the Dark City." A bone white arch materialized out of thin air, and a thin sheet of rippling white light began to shine within it. "It will not be too expensive. Everything I wanted of you is here with me, so all we need is everything I will want of you in the future."

She reached out and picked up my body with a single hand from the table I had been lying on. We were in a white small spherical room with no windows, and the only furniture was an armor rack, desk, and hammock.

"Your life has ended, just as you foresaw it." She said as she smiled softly. "But, there are new possibilities beyond being just human. I've had the opportunity to talk to a certain Ael Wyntor while traveling through the Webway. He is an impressive work of gene-sculpting." She paused as she pulled out a small gem that glowed briefly before dulling as she returned it to a pocket underneath her armor. "In return for my reports on the Dark City, I've received some of the science required to recreate that merging between human and fey." Her hand lifted me up to eye level, and I could see the small doll-like figure my soul inhabited reflected in her eyes. "Your mind is beautiful to me and your heart is warm, but your body was not to my liking." She brushed a finger over my teardrop shaped head gently. "It may take time, but we have enough. Your fate and mine are intertwined for the foreseeable future. Of course, that is from my perspective, and my life will last for a very very long time."

My foggy brain slowed as an immense sense of drowsiness overtook me. There were questions in my mind, but there was no fear or panic. I was too sleepy to feel anything at the moment.

"Rest, Maxil. We have many adventures ahead of us."

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
♪1 Fate/Zero OST "Point Zero"
♪2 Dawn of War II - For The Craftworld (HD)
♪3 Dawn of War II - Khaine's Wrath (HD)
♪4 Anima Ataraxia - Extended - Fate/Extra CCC OST

—----------------------------------------
♪1
I could only watch in horror as the Soul Engines disappeared under the roiling crust of the planet. All the dark geometrically shaped laboratories and black arched breeding facilities splintered and cracked, as if they were made from overdried clay instead of the unknowable alloys that resisted both the strongest bolts of psychic lightning any of us could muster and the heaviest projectiles we could throw physically or telekinetically.

Despite being high above all this, looking down from the viewing port of a voidcraft in orbit with all my brothers and sisters who had been selected for our ability to survive the last tests of the Old Ones, I could hear the roar of churning earth and howling scream of insane winds.

Radioactive aurorae covered the skies in yellow, green, and red lights as the dead core of our homeworld was jolted back to life. The reborn magnetosphere was pulling the solar particles we had all been exposed to on our homeworld back up beyond the atmosphere.

I turned back to the goddess that my mother had been used to make. I could still see hints of her in the goddess's hair and the shape of her eyes. However, I truly regretted that one action soon after.

The emotionless face that we had all taken turns to bow down before and pray moments ago was smiling. A small sad loving smile was directed at myself and the planet below us.

At that moment, the tectonic plates split open, forming jagged mouths to swallow everything that was upon them. Tendrils of molten rock rose out from inside and outside these gaping maws, like the hungry roots of a newly awakened seed.

Despite the vacuum between the voidcraft and the planet, I could hear it scream. The birth cry of a new legend was wracking the very fabric of reality.

My mother's mouth continued to smile at me, but her eyes told a different story. In them, I saw what she really felt.

Hate. Fear. Despair. Anger. Shame. Guilt. And only after she had swallowed all of what she had experienced as well as the emotions of all those who had failed the selection process would the final output of the emotional equation engraved in her core be released.

That result would be love, but that love crossed the entire spectrum from the mad grip of a mourning mother unable to let go of her child's corpse, to the gentle touch of a distant but Caring parent.

I swallowed as the silver eyes of the goddess reflected me and only me amongst all my species; a single face turned towards her as the rest were stuck to the view ports, backs turned in her direction.

Nobody could know of this. To understand what she was would to invert what she was supposed to do. We, her children, were meant to die so she could function. But, if her legend ever spoke of this at such an early stage, she would function so we would die.

I had thought the Old Ones alien before, but I had underestimated just how little I shared with them emotionally or ideologically.

No wonder they abandoned the Necrontyr to their species wide cancer.

Their method of decision making was not something that could be understood.

I looked up at the goddess that was my mother and watched the last remaining trails of the burgundy ichor that flowed from her eyes disappear into her skin like water on desert sands.

With a single tear shed for my sake, brought up from the depth of her heart by my despair when I saw our dead world, she had destroyed everything we had sought to be free from.

But she was not done. She would never be done. This single planet was not enough to relieve her heart of its sorrow. That was not the way the Old Ones had engineered her.

Feminine voices began to tickle my ear. I could hear the gentle voice of the woman who allowed me to suckle at her breast, and the voices of hundreds of others whispering to me as I stared at her.

Eldanesh... Eldanesh... they cooed my name over and over.

She wanted to be free, and she was asking me to help her.

The restraining wards crackled, and the reinforced glass of the containment tube around my mother cracked. Melded seams of metal tore open. Steam whistled out of burst pipes as several coolant systems exploded. All this happened even as my mother remained motionless.

The materials that made this ship came from the planet below, so they too were beginning to resonate with my mother's will.

I pushed the button left behind by one of the Old Ones' mortal servitors, and the gate within the containment tube opened, throwing my mother into the roiling seas of the immaterium.
Cold sweat drenched me, even as the portal safely closed, and I just stood there gasping for breath.

My dream had come true. Our homeworld would sustain life once more. That hell below me was the miracle I had prayed for.

Every creature that had been consumed in order to create us, every feature of the planet that had been destroyed to create the testing ground to harden us, all of it would be restored.

That was the end, and the new beginning. It was the miracle of life made manifest, but granted in the only way reality could rationalize it.

I took in one final long breath, and calmed myself. There was no turning back, no return to naive childish ignorance, no erasing the knowledge from my brain and soul. My wish for a new world had been granted. Now, it was my turn to uphold my part of the bargain.

"This is the miracle of the Goddess of Life." I spoke as my body turned back to the rest of my brothers and sisters while my face borrowed Cegorach's mask to form the expressions necessary for the moment. "From this, endless joy will be born. The world will be filled with wondrous things once more, and we will be there to enjoy it. Let us give thanks for her love."

The others looked between the monster in the void outside the viewports and myself. Then, one by one, they turned away from what they saw and knelt before me.

It was for my sorrow that my mother shed a tear, and as the first one to be chosen by her, I would be the one to represent our mother and speak of her Truth.

I called this miracle an act of love, and it was love, despite the thick red and sticky black colors it was tainted by.

I spoke the truth when I said that endless joy would come from the curses of the 3 billion women and the uncountable others who were deemed insufficient and unworthy by the Old Ones; the curses that were now tearing the planet apart with its own burning blood.

This was how all life began; from the boiling seas, torn skies, and roiling mud.

It would only be a matter of time before the first amino acids would form in alkaline pools that would dry under the unfiltered sunlight filled with ultraviolet rays.

This was the miracle of the Goddess of Life.

This was the gift of my mother's love given with a tear made of nothing but sorrow.

This was the secret that now filled my heart, and shoved away any emptiness I felt with the pure horror of knowing what had happened to the woman with golden hair who gave birth to me.

- Black Library Archive: Personal record of Eldanesh on the birth of Isha's first legend

—----------------------------------------
♪2
On a barren world utterly killed by the Necron, a battle raged between the dead and the living.

No natural features remained, and even the atmosphere was slowly being blown away by solar winds, for the planet's molten and solid cores were stopped by stasis fields in order to lock every landmass exactly where it was. Nothing remained on the surface. Oceans had been drained away under the crust to reveal resource deposits hidden by the water, and all nascent flora and fauna had been murdered long ago by the mechanical tendrils of the Abattoir and Canoptek scarab swarms when the slaves of the Yngir first took control of this entire solar system.

With no cover from plants or buildings, both Old One and Yngir armies fought with ancient tactics in open war and their conscripts clashed over the dry brown desert sands interrupted only by the black obelisks of the Necrons.

Lines of Aeldari warriors with Wraithbone shields in the shapes of Roman scutums and Fusion Pistols stood in front of a second line of infantrymen armed with Prism Rifles. The first line of warriors used what little they could of their psychic gifts to kick up the dry brown sands at their feet, forming an additional layer of protection between them and the green lightning of the Gauss Flayers fired by the endless ranks of Necron warriors; sand grains absorbing the molecule stripping energies that flensed whatever they touched layer by layer. Their voices rang out, singing the bonesongs that would repair their Wraithbone shields as the top most layers were stripped off. They held back the Necron as the second line fired over their shoulders or between their shields with Prism Rifles that emitted concentrated light that could either form a piercing beam or conical blast at the shooter's will.

Dark swarms of scarabs approached like locust swarms from above and the front, and it was only then that the first line of soldiers would fire their short ranged melta weapons, sending multiple penetrating cones of pure thermal radiation into the scarabs that charged directly at them as the second line turned their Prism Rifles skyward and held back those that tried to come at them from above with the widest setting their weapons could fire with.

After several minutes of firing, the swarm abated leaving only pools of denatured necrodermis, heated to such an extent it had degraded back into the more mundane alloys it had been composed from.

However, the Aeldari did not rejoice, for while the scarab swarms had obscured everything, the Necron warriors had advanced another few meters, and were now forcing them back with the sheer volume of Gauss fire their mass produced bodies and weapons released.

This was the situation along almost every front line between the Aeldari and the Necron.

No matter how many the Aeldari slew, the necrodermis bodies of their foes would either reanimate themselves, or be teleported back to the underground forges in a flash of light only to be replaced by several more freshly produced warriors.

Further back, deep behind allied lines, the War Council of the Aeldari was convened under the safety of the void shields and protected by the grav-tanks they had in reserve as well as the covering fire of planetside anti-orbital Pulsars. Several Psychomatons stood at the outer edge of the void shields, and would occasionally throw a psychically guided Wraithbone javelin through the crescent shaped Scythe or shroud aircraft that darted around, probing their defenses.

"Autarch…" One of the Aeldari addressed the most senior member at the council. "The 3rd and 4th planets of this system have fallen. The resonance of the pylons has begun to activate the Dolmen gate, and it obscures the Webway even further. We have lost the path back to our ships and siblings in the Webway."

There were 3 other Aeldari, and a 12m giant all clad in Wraithbone armor of various colors surrounding a floating silver oval that generated a holographic map of the battlefield. Only a giant tarp was placed overhead to hide them from any prying eyes from the sky. Several other tarps were placed as decoys around them at random intervals to reduce the risk of being instantly targeted should a stray attack craft or void ship manage to penetrate the covering fire and shields above them.

"Then our reinforcements will be limited to what we can physically throw down from the skies until we take down their pylons" Autarch Alarathis sighed, then turned to the 12m giant. "Drogmar, have you any word from your ships?"

The giant alien, a Krork, grunted before flicking the holographic map with a finger to switch the field of view to the battle taking place in space.

"My boys can push through their cruiser lines." His voice was a deep baritone, but the pronunciation was articulated and cadence calm. "There won't be much left, but I should have enough pods to take out these pylons. However, these Æonic Orbs will wipe out whatever my ships drop during transit." The holographic map switched between orbit and ground as it reacted to the psychic commands of the Krork, highlighting the weapons in question that prevented his troops from dropping in from orbit.

The Æonic Orb. They were one of the Titan-class weapons the Necron employed as mobile anti-orbital artillery. Inside a containment field of liquified necrodermis, held in place by temporal fields, quantum shielding, and stasis generators on a massive floating ovoid dais made of obsidian alloys and necrodermis, was a stellar fragment from a star devoured by the Star Gods. When it fired, the containment field was merely opened to let the raw radiation and unbearable heat trapped inside scorch whatever happened to be in its path. The only reason it wasn't employed as a ship-board weapon was because a critical failure meant the full wrath of a dying star would be unleashed in an explosion no nuclear bomb could ever match.

As such, although they were often used as anti-Titan weapons by the Necron, they were forced to place them a safe-distance away from everything that was even marginally important. Still, the Æonic Orb's extreme range and sheer power meant that it would decimate almost all the Krork drop pods before they could reach the ground.

"Our void ships struggle to hold the skies over us clear." One of the Aeldari replied, returning the map back to orbit, showing void ships from 3 separate alien races. Necron cruisers remained in orbit high above their positions, while Aeldari and Krork vessels hung slightly behind their own armies. Each group of ships were blocked from direct line of sight thanks to the curvature of the planet, but it was obvious from the number of blips on the holomap that the Necrons outnumbered both Old One races by at least three to one. Only a constant stream of Star-Cannon artillery from the Aeldari ships forced the Necron ships to remain in place as their Gauss lightning arrays and particle whips were the only weapons that could vaporize the psychically guided bolts of plasma that threatened to bombard the Necron positions below. "We cannot target the Æonic Orbs from orbit, nor engage their cruisers to allow more of the Krork ships to reach the drop points."

"Then we have no choice but to engage the Æonic Orbs on the ground." Alarathis muttered, reverting the map back to the planet itself.

"We will need to deploy all our reserves, Autarch." The other Aeldari spoke warily. "That will leave our central camps and anti-orbital Pulsar defenses dangerously reduced."

The Autarch let out a short laugh before switching the map to display the entire solar system. Every other planet besides one was noted as being under total Necron control.

"Our forces retreat, slowly but surely, on every front. The sheer number of their warriors grind us down like waves eating away at the bottom of a cliff. With the fall of the other planets, it will only be a matter of time before their ships and troops teleport here and overwhelm us. Our only chance to keep this system and another portion of the Webway out of the hands of Yngir is to reopen a way for our siblings to join us upon this planet, or summon one of our gods. The Talismans of Vaul still hold back the Yngir themselves from this system. As long as our voice can still reach our mother, we must fight with Khaine's song in our throats."

"Victory at any cost." The other two Aeldari replied ritualistically as the Krork sighed and rolled his shoulders.

"If you're all done with your poetry, I'll be returning to my boys. They'll be getting bored at taking potshots at those Necron flyers, and I need to remind them of why we're here."

Alarathis nodded, permitting the Krork to leave.

"Go then Drogmar. I will send word when we are ready. May your gods watch over you."

The Krork snorted as he turned away. "My gods are always with me. They don't hide in the immaterium."

The Autarch and his two assistants watched as the giant marched back to where the rest of the Krork were, taking turns to operate the anti-air and anti-orbital weapons keeping enemy fliers and escort class vessels from attempting an ill-fated bombing or bombardment run.

"Drogmar is becoming increasingly unstable." One of Alarathis's assistants muttered irritably.

The Autarch shrugged in response. "That's why he was sent on this doomed campaign with us. We are all weapons reaching our expiration date, even though the fruit is ripest just before it rots."

"Is he aware of that?" His other assistant questioned, and the Alarathis shrugged again.

"The more important question is, 'Would he care?'." He said sarcastically. "Regardless, fate holds our hand in this dance. Even if all we do fails, the daughter of Morai-Heg will ensure our sacrifices are not in vain."

Switching off the holographic map, Alarathis activated a handheld holoprojector that sent false images of himself and his two attendants as well as the silver map projector running to the several decoy tarps around them before turning and jogging away from the tarp using the exact same speed and form as the holographic projections. Moments later, the remains of a Scythe attack craft crashed into the tarp they had just been using in a ball of baleful green flames and eldritch sparks.

"Deploy our reserves." Alarathis spoke casually as he reactivated the map projector. "Speed will be necessary. Our forces will not last long once they penetrate the Necron lines."

"They will be surrounded on all sides, and the Necron still have their anti-armor weapons in reserve. Are you sure of this, Autarch?" His assistant asked again.

Even with the Psychomatons and grav-tanks positioned around the main camp, held in reserve so they could react to any faltering of the front lines, attack craft occasionally managed to penetrate their defenses. For the moment, the best they could do was attempt a suicide attack against them. However, if the reserves were sent out into a battle guaranteed to extract a heavy toll, this command post and the anti-orbital Pulsars could fall to a concentrated force of enemy attack craft. If those fell, their armies would be rendered leaderless and the Necron cruisers could advance forwards unhindered by fire from the anti-orbital Pulsars. Then, it would only be a matter of time before they chased off the Aeldari and Krork void ships and began raining orbital bombardments upon their ground forces.

"With the pylons active, our psychic abilities are limited, and the Dolmen gate blocks us from the Webway." Alarathis replied tiredly. "If we can destroy this grouping of pylons, even if our siblings cannot reopen the Webway, we can still attempt to summon Khaine. He will ensure the remaining pylons fall, and the dark resonance will be broken. Even if denying them this one planet is all we can manage, it is worth preventing another section of the Webway falling to the Yngir."

Swiping a hand across the map, Alarathis highlighted several sections along the front lines.

"Open the lines at these locations. Our grav-tanks will punch through and move to threaten their Lords and command barges, drawing out their reserve forces to counter-attack." Several arrows symbolizing both the Aeldari's mechanized push and the Necron's response appeared. "We should be able to draw out their arks, barges, and anti-armor Immortals with this."

"What of the Destroyer cults?" One of Alarathis's assistants asked, and several Necron fused at the waist to a fast moving mobility platform appeared on the map. "They are faster than our grav-tanks, and may outflank our vehicles to hit them with their anti-armor weapons at the rear. They may even attempt to outmaneuver them entirely and slip past our void shields, allowing them to attack our anti-orbital Pulsars directly."

"Equip our jetbikes with laser lances." Alarathis replied calmly. "They will counter any destroyer cults attempting to outmaneuver our grav-tanks and push past into our back lines." He waved his hand over the map, switching back to the highlighted Æonic Orbs Drogmar had pointed out. "Once their heavy weapons are forced to engage ours, the Psychomatons can move to take out the Æonic Orbs."

"Our ancestors will not be returning from their mission, Autarch." Alarathis's attendant stated sadly.

Destruction of the Æonic Orbs meant the stellar fragment would be released, and its weapon ensured it was protected from any ranged attack whether it was made of light or matter.

Nothing could overwhelm the raw fury of a star.

If only the Necron pylons did not stifle their connection to the immaterium.

If only they still had access to their super-heavy tanks; their Cobras, Scorpions, or even Lynxes that had been lost clearing the landing point for the initial insertion and during the destruction of the Abattoir.

If only a hundred other things had gone different, there may have been another way. But, that was not the case. The Psychomatons would have to close to melee range with the Æonic Orbs, and would be consumed by their destruction.

"I know." Alarathis replied in a tired tone. "But, whatever the outcome, so long as the Talismans of Vaul hold back the Yngir victory is assured. Eldanesh will see to that."

—----------------------------------------

Alarathis's plan progressed smoothly.

Night Spinners began the assault by firing monofilament artillery in high arcs over the Aeldari infantry lines, slicing apart large swathes of Necron Warriors to prevent them from exploiting any breach in the line.

Then, the Aeldari infantry lines parted, and the first wave of vehicles composed of the Falcon-chassis based Fire Prisms charged forwards over the mats of monofilament interspersed with sparking bits and pieces of the skeletal slaves of the C'tan. Prism cannons fired conical blasts of laser lights, freezing multiple Necron Warriors as their joints melted from the heat, freezing them in place until the bladelike front of the Falcon chassis each Fire Prism was made from mowed them down like overgrown grass.

Then the Immortals and Doomsday Arks responded.

Gauss blasters and Doomsday Cannons cut through the Aeldari grav-tanks one by one as they emerged from behind the lines of Necron Warriors while the Aeldari infantry line moved forwards to support their grav-tanks with Prism Rifles and Fusion Pistols returning fire, tearing Immortal heads from necks, and poking holes in the Doomsday Arks until they exploded or disintegrated due to their own powersource going haywire.

At the same time, Destroyer cultists on high-mobility platforms with Gauss Destructors rushed past the momentary openings left behind by the destroyed Aeldari grav-tanks. They jinked and swerved irregularly avoiding the majority of the Prism fire with the high pitched humming of the mobility platforms' levitation fields and the crackle of their Gauss weapons being the only sounds they made.

Some fired wildly into the Aeldari infantry shield walls, before running into them directly like an out of control automobile in order to cause as much mayhem as they possibly could for they were uncontrollable cultists slaved to death and destruction; hated by even their own undead brethren.

The Destroyer cultists who had lost their sanity were eventually melted into slag by Fusion Pistols and Prism Rifles, doing only superficial damage to the Aeldari army. However, the other Destroyers with a greater portion of their sanity remaining slipped through the opening in the Aeldari formations for they knew they could do far more damage from behind enemy lines.

But, instead of the unguarded commanders, unprotected ammo silos, or triage stations filled with helpless wounded they had wanted to wreck and burn, they found Jetbike riders counter-charging them head on.

These faster vehicles and their prescient riders swerved and swayed, avoiding Gauss blasts with their foresight before opening holes in the skeletal torsos or mobility platforms of the Destroyers with their armor piercing laser lances as they passed.

The deadly exchange between the two sides continued as the counter-push of the Aeldari slowly penetrated the Necron lines at several points, closing in on the Command Barges and Necron Lords that provided the commands for the other Yngir slaves to function.

However, overhead, greater and greater numbers of Necron flyers began to gather. Aeldari Firestorm anti-air grav-tanks took several of them down with their scatter lasers, but were soon forced to turn their weapons towards several scarab swarms that threatened to smother the Aeldari army.

Suddenly, a series of bone-white bladed disks cut through several of the Necron Scythe attack craft as the Pschomatons charged out from inside the camp.

This was their last parting gift to their younger siblings, a final salvo of anti-air fire to delay the coming counter-push of the Necron which would swallow them all.

Already, the destroyed Necron were teleported back from the front lines. New Warriors, Destroyers, Immortals and Doomsday Arks were slowly replacing those that had been destroyed.

This brief moment, where the Aeldari forces had temporarily depleted the Necrons' numbers, was the only moment the Psychomatons could afford to leave their post.

As they ran, paths obstructed by only simple Warriors for the more devastating weapons were distracted defending the Necron Lords and Command Barges, they ducked and dodged as they crossed the line where the curvature of the plane no longer protected them from the direct line of fire from the Æonic Orbs.

The beams from the Stellar Fragments traveled at the speed of light, but the Psychomatons were the oldest and most experienced of the Aeldari in the matter of war. Their foresight allowed them to predict where the Æonic Orbs would fire even before the Necrons operating it had even decided to send the command.

Wraithbone spears and javelins formed in their six hands, and they threw them at their targets as they ran, forcing the Æonic Orbs to divide their attention between several targets, slowing their rate of fire.

Particle whips and Gauss lightning arrays fired down upon them from the Necron cruisers orbiting overhead. But, the Psychomatons continued on with a different song, growing and regrowing sacrificial Wraithbone shields in the left and right hands of their uppermost pair of arms which took the brunt of the green lightning that rained down upon them from the heavens.

Finally, every Psychomaton reached the Æonic Orb they had been assigned, and even as Necron weapons released their shielding to deliver omnidirectional blasts of every imaginable electromagnetic radiation, they grabbed hold of the quantumly shielded necrodermis with melting hands and fingers, and tore into them with whatever weapon they could summon.

Back at the main Aeldari camp, Alarathis watched several dozen flashes of light erupt in the distance followed by massive mushroom clouds.

"Drogmar, send in your ships." The Autarch said before whistling a simple Wraithbone spike into existence which he jabbed into the ground before kneeling on one knee. The other two Aeldari followed suit, and the Krork snorted before crouching down to brace himself on all fours.

The earthquake hit them moments later. The ground undulated like the surface of a waterbed that had been jumped on, rippling with the seismic waves generated by the explosion. But, even as he held onto the Wraithbone spike he used to keep his balance, Alarathis saw explosions in the sky as Krork troop carriers charged out into the Necron cruiser's line of fire.

Most of the explosions were red and black, but the occasional eldritch green nova showed that the Krork ships still scored the occasional kill.

"My boys have begun dropping to the pylons." Drogmar grunted as the earthquake subsided. "I can't hear what they're thinking anymore, so they must have entered the pylon fields."

"Shall we pull our forces back, Autarch?" One of Alarathis's assistants asked, for there was no more need to spill Aeldari blood with the Krork assault underway.

"No." Alarathis shook his head. "The more pressure we apply to the Necron, the less attention and armaments they can direct to the Krork. Continue the assault. Buy them more time."

Painfully long minutes passed as the distant sounds of explosions and constant crackling of Gauss fire filled the background silence as the four of them watched the distant black obelisks.

Finally, one of the obelisks shook, then fell like a massive tree cutdown with an ax. Several others soon followed, and Alarathis breathed out a sigh of relief before turning back to the holographic map behind them.

"Have we regained access to the Webway?" He asked one of his assistants, but a shake of the head was his only answer. "Then we begin the ritual to summon Khaine. I will lead the Warsong to bri-"

The Autarch was interrupted by a sudden silent scream. Phantom voices filled all of their ears and forced their hands to their heads. After several seconds of being forced to acclimatize to the horrid sound, the four psychic aliens rose to their feet panting.

"Sepulchres." Alarathis hissed as he turned to glare up at the sky where the screaming continued to echo from.

"Cairn-class Tomb ships." One of his assistants replied, opening partial slits on the side of her helmet to allow the blood that dripped from her ears to run out. "They must have arrived from the other planets."

Cair-class Tomb ships. The largest 'standard' warship of the Necron fleet. Only these massive crescent moon shaped ships with Pyramid bridges in between the two blade like halves carried the weapon known as the Sepulchre. Several dozen of these ships had arrived using their inertialess drives to conduct short range teleports in order to reach this planet as quickly as possible, and all of them were now saturating the atmosphere of this planet with their Sepulchres. It was the one psychic weapon they had created and its only purpose was to suppress the psychic gifts of others.

How could the soulless Necron, slaves to the Yngir who were only masters of reality, create a psychic weapon?

Simple. By using the races that had psychic abilities to make them.

Inside each Cairn-class Tomb ship was a lobotomization chamber that carried the brains of hundreds, if not thousands of psychic life forms.

This was the fate in store for all prisoners of war that weren't fed to the Yngir, and also the fate of all those consumed by the tentacled Abattoirs that were released upon every world the Necron invaded.

Each unfortunate victim was subjected to constant simulated pain while being deprived of all other sensory input. Then, their brains were enclosed in a blackstone box with nutrient fluids so the psychic emanations of suffering could be concentrated safely until the Necron felt like they needed to use them.

The endless agony each brain felt was released via the remains of the psychic gifts of the race that the brain belonged to. A wave of forced empathy spread pain, terror, and despair as whatever soul was left in the mass of adipose and neural tissue cried out for help.

This almost overwhelming sense of negative emotions acted as a sort of jamming signal, interfering with the concentration and emotional control necessary to use psychic abilities, which included the summoning of most of the Aeldari's deities.

This was how the Sepulchre was created, how it functioned, and why it was made.

"Pull back all our forces." Alarathis said quietly. "Gather all the survivors and wounded near the anti-orbital Pulsars. I will begin my speech once everyone is gathered."

His two assistants nodded, and quickly ran off to spread his orders. Psychic communications were also affected by the Sepulchre, so physical communications would be required to contact those furthest away from the camp.

Alarathis watched as flares and holographic projections ordering the Aeldari armies to fallback rose into the skies. At the same time, streams of green lightning descended down towards the places the Necron pylons once stood, orbitally bombarding any of the Krork survivors who had dropped down from the skies. Once the Necron army could proceed forwards without fear of the Krork flanking them from behind, they would begin to encircle the last remaining survivors on the ground.

Capture meant interrogation which would lead to only two options; to be eaten by the Yngir, or to be reduced to just a brain and interred into another Sepulchre weapon aboard a Cairn-class Tombship.

Alarathis turned back to the 12m Krork. Behind the giant, several thousand similarly sized Krorks were gathering with their smaller Krotling and Kretchin servants.

"Now, I am the one who gives the orders." Drogmar chuckled throatily. "The Sepulchres hurt you Aeldari more than us." His eyes seemed to blaze behind his helm, even as the agonized screams of thousands upon thousands of tortured souls continued to ring in his ears. "Your gods won't answer your call, but mine will."

Alarathis looked up at the Krork. There was no sadness or pain in the giant alien's eyes. With every second spent in the Sepulchres' fields, his bloodlust only grew and grew.

This was why the Krorks had been created. Their brute strength reduced their reliance on their psychic gifts, and their even more brutal culture left no room for misery or sorrow.

They only had one goal, and that was to fight. They didn't care what other aliens thought or felt, so their capacity for empathy was virtually non-existent. That made them almost immune to the Sepulchres of the Necron.

Finally, the Aeldari Autarch touched two fingers to his forehead, and his brow creased in concentration as he transmitted everything he knew of the current battlefield to the Krork Warlord while fighting through the Sepulchres' screams.

"These are the last known locations of their Command Barges and Lords." Alarathis said quietly as he finished the transmission of information. "Merely proceeding in their direction will force them to reallocate their forces to prepare defenses against you. Hitting them hard enough will disrupt centralized planetary control of all forces, and destroying them will disrupt local control long enough that you may hit another target. You will be encircled, however, and there will be no escape. Then again, there is no escape for any of us anyways. Buy me 3 hours. That is all I need."

Drogmar snorted before replying. "I don't know whether we'll last that long, but we'll buy you as much time as we can, Alarathis."

"That is as much as I can ask. Die bravely Drogmar."

Alarathis turned and walked away towards the anti-orbital Pulsars.

Drogmar stared at the Autarch's back for a couple of moments before snorting and turning to the Kretchin servant who carried his weapons when he wasn't using them.
♪3
"Did you hear what that knife-ear said to me?" He snorted as he grabbed his favorite oversized Fusion Gun and power claw.

"You've got pointy ears as well, boss." The Kretchin retorted as he clambered up the 12m giant to fit twin-linked shoulder mounted repeating missile launchers to his Warlord.

"I know I have pointy ears, you dolt." Drogmar growled, shaking his shoulders causing the Kretchin to yelp and hang on for dear life. "They're the right kind of pointy, and they're green. But that's not the point. He told me to 'die bravely'. What a stupid sentiment." The Krork turned towards his troops, and sucked in a deep breath before roaring out at them.

"There is no bravery in death! There is only the fight! Death is the end of the fight, and the time of judgment before our gods! I have given enough worship to Mork by working with these knife-ears! Now, I can finally show Gork that I am worthy!"

Cheers came from every Krork. This was their time. This was their fight. They had endured the boredom and depression of apostatic peace for long enough. Now, they could practice their faith for the first time after the initial beachhead on this planet.

"So, what's the plan, boss?" Drogmar's Kretchin underling asked as he slipped down from his Warlord's back.

"There is no plan." Drogmar snorted. Plans were for the Aeldari, and their inferior coward gods hiding in the Sea of Souls.

"There is only the fight. There is only the Waaagh. The Waaagh! To fight with brutality and to fight with cunning! We'll use the knowledge of those knife-ears, and we'll borrow their weapons and their armor! But, this fight is ours! Ours! Nobody else can have it, for this is all we have and the only reason we were made! That is what our gods want, and what we want to do for our gods!"

Roars of religious fervor rose from every Krork as they lifted their weapons and shook them above their heads. Green and yellow sparks flew from their eyes as the Waaagh field began to grow so thick it began to overflow from their bodies.

"Right!" Drogmar's Kretchin laughed as he clapped his knobbly hands together. "Haha! Sure is glorious being green!"

"Shut your mouth and grab your gun you git!" Drogmar spat while giving a backhanded slap to the back of the Kretchin's head, sending him face first into the brown sands beneath them. "All of you, do you see the targets in my mind?" Drogmar roared, pointing to his head, and all the Krorks nodded enthusiastically. "Good! Then you know where to go!"

The Krork began to march forwards, separating into equally sized groups to charge towards each Necron Lord and Command Barge. Aeldari infantry ran, jogged, or were dragged past them as the Krork took control of the battlefield.

"Fight, fight, and fight!" Drogmar called out as he marched at the forefront of the foremost group. "Give worship to Gork with your hands as you tear apart the enemy head on! Give worship to Mork as your feet carry you to where it will hurt them the most when you hit them!"

Green and yellow sparks leapt from the psychoactive Wraithbone armor that encased his 12m frame as the Krork Warlord raised both of his weapons as the foremost and final rank of Aeldari shield bearers parted to reveal the Necron Warriors marching towards them.

"Gork and Mork! Mork and Gork! Great gods of all Krork, witness what we do this day and welcome us back in open arms so we can fight and fight and fight!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Every Krork roared out in unison as they charged headfirst into Necron Warriors, who reacted by leveling every Gauss weapon they could at Drogmar and firing, but the Waaagh energies encasing his armor acted like void shielding and annulled the molecule stripping energies that flew at him.

He was the Warlord of the Krork behind him. The biggest, baddest, and most beloved Krork by the gods Gork and Mork. His Krork believed nothing could hurt him, so he was immune to everything the Necron threw at him.

The 12m giants crushed the Necron Warriors under their boots, and Waaagh lightning zapped any scarab that attempted to touch them like bugs trying to fly through an electrified mesh.

Annihilation Barges fired their Tesla cannons into them, but whatever electrical energies penetrated the Waaagh field was absorbed by the thick Wraithbone armor provided by the Aeldari.

Drogmar blasted the nearest barge with his Fusion Gun, melting its cannons, before grabbing it with his power claw and throwing it at an incoming Destroyer cultist, crushing both of them. All the while, the twin-linked missile launchers fired from both of his shoulders like rapid fire auto cannons, mowing down any Necron that moved with multiple miniature plasma warheads.

The force the Krork attacked with reopened the wounds the Aeldari's mechanized push had inflicted on the Necron formations, and the burning wreckage of the grav-tanks served as suitable cover for them as they dove into the ranks of the Yngir slaves.

Soon, Drogmar smashed his way through to the first Necron Lord, guarded by several Praetorians and shield-bearing Lychguard.

His power claw scooped up the nearest Lychguard, shield and armor piercing glaive squished against its body, then crushed the reinforced armor of the bodyguard to the ancient Necrontyr aristocracy as he turned his Fusion Gun upon the rest of them. The Lychguard raised their shields, and placed themselves between the Krork and their Lord while the Praetorians lifted off with their anti-gravitational packs to shoot at the Krork with their Rods of Covenant. Incinerating beams crackled against the Waaagh energies encasing Drogmar, and his twin-linked shoulder missile launchers fired up at the Praetorians like anti-aircraft guns as he charged head first into the Lychguard's shield wall while suppressing them with multiples shots from his Fusion Gun.

Black necrodermis shields glowed red from the heat, then Drogmar barrelled through them like a bowling ball knocking aside a set of pins and raised his Fusion Gun to deliver another shot at the Lord that had been hidden behind them. But, before he could pull the trigger, the Necron Lord's Warscythe blasted the Krork with a blast of eldritch lightning, tearing apart Drogmar's favorite Fusion Gun. In return, the 12m giant swatted away the Necron Lord's weapon with what remained of his firearm, breaking the reinforced joints of the higher grade body provided to the Necrontyr aristocracy, and grabbed him with his power claw.

"Now you've done it!" Drogmar roared as he pointed both of his shoulder mounted missile launchers and unloaded several miniature plasma missiles into the Necron Lords face as he crushed its body like an empty can. Soon, the compressed and headless Necron Lord was raised above the Krork's head, and he roared out with the victorious battle cry all Krorks shared.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Mad lightning erupted from Drogmar's body, as his own religious fervor mixed with those of his boys, and the euphoric joy of battle rose to a mighty crescendo summoning a towering giant in the form of a buck-naked Krork.

500m tall, barrel chested with a thick belly and bulging arms and thighs, Gork emerged from the Waaagh field of the Krork to celebrate with them upon the field of battle.

Roaring joyously, the God of Brutality raised his fist before slamming it into the ground, smashing countless leaderless Necron Warriors and vehicles, before sweeping his hand aside burying entire phalanxes in rubble, sand, and rock.

The titanic deity stomped, kicked, punched and swatted at the now disorganized Necron, trampling their soldiers and the odd unlucky Krork beneath his feet as the hurricane winds whipped up by his mere passing sent Scythe craft wobbling through the sky, only to be smashed between his massive hands like a mosquito.

But, the Necron did not retreat, nor relent. They were already dead and even if they could feel fear, they did not have the free will to act upon it. A different Necron Lord from a distant Command Barge reasserted control over the Yngir slaves, and ordered them to ignore the raging god above them and kill the Krork that allowed it to exist.

Concentrated Gauss fire finally brought down one of the Krorks, overwhelming the Waaagh field surrounding him with more weapon's fire than he could imagine, saturating his yellow-green barrier even as dozens fell to his mono-molecular chain-blade and oversized Prism Blaster. Motes of Gauss energy that got through the protective shields of pure self-confidence ate away at his armor until they finally began to vaporize flesh. Bit by bit, the Krork was disintegrated, until one of his massive legs finally broke in two from his own weight.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

But, there is no defeating a Krork. Kill them, hurt them, torture them it makes no difference. There is only the fight for them.

Galloping on three limbs, the 12m giant grabbed the Nearest Necron Warriors he could reach even as Gauss Flayers unloaded in his face, disintegrating half his skull. Then, with his grip strength alone, the Krork compacted the necrodermis bodies into a makeshift club before using it to smash the next nearest Necron Warrior he could reach.

It was only after the Necron Warriors finished disintegrating the rest of the Krork's head, the remaining leg, and right forearm that the Krork finally stopped fighting. Then, a massive shadow loomed over them as Gork's foot stomped down on the remains of the Krork and the Necron Warriors that surrounded him. All the while, the brutal god laughed, joyous that his mortal followers remained loyal to his creed.

Despite the localized victories the Krork gained, the battle in general was slowly falling into the Necrons' favor.

New reinforcements were being teleported down from the Cairn-class Tomb ships every second. Fresh Monoliths, Immortals, and Arks materialized in flashes of crackling emerald energies and began to march towards the Krorks along with the reconstituted Warriors who had been felled earlier in the battle. Newly produced Canoptek creations such as scarabs and Acanthrites arrived in droves, descending upon the Krork and their god in black clouds of chittering claws, buzzing cutting beams, and maliciously masticating mandibles.

As the Krork fell, the titanic form of Gork faded, then disappeared as the Waaagh energies necessary to support him faded.

Deep behind enemy lines, Drogmar kept fighting. Both shoulder mounted missile launchers were smoldering melted wrecks. Instead of his favorite Fusion gun, a Necron Gauss Flayer crackled in his armored fist, slowly frying away the Wraithbone that enclosed his hand. His Power Claw was missing along with his arm, having been cut off by a Lychgaurd's power glaives.

But, the Krork would not fall.

Vestigial Waaagh energies continued to spark around him, frying away the scarabs and stunning the larger Acanthrites long enough for him to swat them away with the Necron weapon he was using as a makeshift club.

Before him was a damaged Command Barge with its guard forces lying in torn and trampled pieces around them.

Drogmar spat out a tooth loosened when he headbutted a Destroyer Lord that tried to fly up to cut off his head, then smiled as he felt the last of his Krork die.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He roared as he charged the Command Barge once more.

He was the biggest, baddest, and most beloved Krork by the gods Gork and Mork. That was why he was the last one standing, even long after his god Gork had left the fight. There was nothing but joy and pride and his heart at having outlasted a god. Nothing could defeat him in his mind, and this metal skeleton would just be another foe beneath his bootheel.

The last Tesla cannon of the Command Barge fired at Drogmar, only to be deflected by the pure self-confidence of his Waaagh energies. The 12m giant tackled the floating vehicle, knocking it upside down, sending the Necron Lord aboard it sprawling across the ground.

Before the Lord could rise to its feet, the jagged remains of a Gauss Flayer pierced its royal cloak and broke through its ribbed torso, pinning it to the ground. Then, Drogmar's boot stomped on its skull like head, twisting and breaking its neck before flattening the metal cranium in a spray of green sparks.

"Krorks are the best." Drogmar slurred, before collapsing. His body and brain had been overclocked this entire time as he summoned Gork while fighting his way through endless swarms of Necrons and their Canoptek constructs. Now, with this last offering to his gods, Drogmar's spent body died on its own, undefeated by the Necron.

—----------------------------------------

Autarch Alarathis watched the giant form of the Krork god fade before turning back to his brethren. They had pulled back all they could, but only a few thousand had made it back to them. The rest had either fallen during the retreat, or had died on the way here.

There were many wounded among them, and some were lying in weeping fetal balls, unable to block out the psychic scream of the Sepulchres suffusing the planet.

There was nothing but depression, misery, pain, and hopelessness among the Aeldari. They were all intelligent enough to know they could not win, and that they could not escape.

Alarathis sighed internally. These emotions would not do. They did not burn red enough, nor were they black enough that the very touch would be like a caustic acid upon the mind.

There were few gods that could be called while under the effect of the Sepulchres, and the one that they needed would require a deeper and darker despair to appear.

"Aeldari!" The Autarch cried out, voice magnified by the speakers in his helmet while his psychic touch transmitted his message to everyone of the soldiers and support crews under his command. "The battle is lost! Our kin have fled the skies and the Webway is closed to us. We have nowhere to flee and no hope of fighting our way through the eternal enemy."

Woeful eyes focussed upon the Autarch, and tears brimmed in some as their situation was stated clearly and succinctly, leaving no room for hope or escapism.

"Fill your hearts with curses!" The Autarch cried out. "Curse those who leave us here to die! Curse those who sent us here to fight on this barren world! Let your bitterness fill your voice until it becomes the banshee howl! Let the sorrow of knowing you will never see your home, or travel through the immaterium ever again fill all the spaces in your soul!"

Fear and anger began to churn in their hearts, as the bitterness of being forced to fight on this godforsaken desert rock burned at their minds.

"Aeldari!" The Autarch as he unsheathed his sword and alighted the crackling psychic fields that enhanced its cutting edge. "Fight! Fight and die!" He cried out as he beat his chest with his free fist. "Fight for there is nothing else left to do! Die for that is what they made us for!"

Throbbing emotional pain turned into a vengeful grudge. Hatred began to burn where hopelessness stifled their hearts.

"Let our screams pierce the veil and let our hate burn the stars! Let our might shine bright in this last moment, for we shall never shine again!"

The Aeldari began to stand, calm minds now consumed by the curses they could no longer contain. There was no more 'next time' for them here. Their reincarnation would not work so close to the Necron. Their souls would be entrapped by the myriad of blackstone devices the undead carried to harvest the lives of all to feed to their Star Gods.

"Cry out at the injustice we are made to bear! Cry out at the arrogance of our enemies and what their overreaching folly has unleashed upon us all! Scream and cry, for our pain and sorrow is what our masters want!"

Those curled up in weeping balls unraveled their limbs; pain and sadness now served as fuel for the burning rage that boiled their blood inside their veins.

"You will never see your children! You will never see your parents! You will see your brothers and sister, for they stand beside you just as doomed as you are!"

Capture meant eternal torment, whether as food for the Yngir or as floating brains in Cairn-class Tomb ships. The only release they had was complete death.

"We shall never wake in another body with the memories we scrounged and scraped and scavenged for thousands of years! All you have is now lost!"

Thousands of years of effort and hardship flashed through every Aeldari's mind. Years upon years of endless hours to perfect skills, hobbies, and build relationships were now all wasted.

"So hate! Hate and rage! Curse and wail! Fill your heart with sorrow and scream at what has been forced upon us!"

Autarch Alarathis screamed out, caught in the fervor of his own speech. He could feel his own pain and despair overwhelming every thought and action as his words infected every Aeldari before him, focussing them all on the unfairness of the world around them.

"This is our end! There is no future! There is no hope! Die with despair on your lips and tears in your eyes! Die cursing our gods and our kin! Die cursing our creators and our slavers! Die cursing the parents who brought us into this world of suffering and strife!"

Banshee howls erupted from the Aeldari, no longer able to contain the maddening grief they felt.

On the horizon, the black clouds of Canoptek constructs began to rize.

"They have come!" The Autarch roared. "Fight or flee, it makes no difference now! Die in pain! Die alone! Die with those beside you knowing that they will be tortured just as you will be for the enemy has no mercy!"

The Aeldari gathered whatever weapons they still had, and began charging the Necron individually or in groups.

"Curse! Rage! Scream! Hate! Cry, and suffer! This is our fate! This is what we were born for and what we were given everything to do!"

With those final words, the Autarch turned, and charged the Necron himself.

Unprotected by Wraithbone shields, and with the banshee howl occupying their voice, the Necron Gauss Flayers could only be avoided by their foresight. However, the sheer volume of fire left the Aeldari nowhere to run.

The Necron Warriors cut down several groups before Tesla cannon wielding Immortals could get to the front lines. Bolts of electricity arcked and electrocuted the Aeldari, killing some while stunning others. The Necron Lords wanted survivors to interrogate, and these Aeldari were far easier to capture and more knowledgeable than the Krork. But, before the paralyzed Aeldari could be carried off by the scarabs, their brothers and sisters executed them as they passed with a single shot before continuing to attack any Necron they could.

Finally, the Necron Lords lost their patience, and simply sent the Canoptek swarms to tear apart the survivors.

As the last Aeldari soldier disappeared under seas of scarabs, torn to pieces by thousands of metallic mandibles, their hand reached up to the sky with their final thought.

Meanwhile, high above in orbit, Eldanesh felt the last Aeldari life on the planet fade.

"The battle has been lost." One of his attendants spoke sadly as the rest of the Aeldari fleet began to leave orbit. The Necron ships here had expended every ounce of energy in their inertial drives to get here. They could not follow the Aeldari void ships if they ran now.

"Then victory is ours." Eldanesh replied tiredly. "Full power to all Distortion cannons. Weaken the veil between us and immaterium. The less power our mother expends emerging from the Sea of Souls, the faster we can reclaim this planet."

"As you will." Eldanesh's attendant replied.

Soon after, several white blasts of psychic energy lashed out at the planet's surface, obliterating the remains of the Aeldari encampment and tearing a hole in reality.

Eldanesh took one look at the widening rift into the Sea of Souls, then ordered his ship to follow the others in their retreat.

—----------------------------------------
♪4
In the remains of the Aeldari camp obliterated by the Distortion cannons reality tearing energies, thousands of Aeldari souls flowed like silver streams around a single blinding point of light. Sorrow and pain sent ripples through the realm of unconscious dreams and stillborn thoughts, calling to something that swam in the depths of the Sea of Souls.

As their pining cries rang, she answered their call.

The light from the hole in reality grew and grew until it took a form of a colossal feminine form. Long sheets of white light flowed over her like the liquid curtains of a waterfall, washing over her to form clothes and hair as the form coalesced into the titanic figure of a beautiful Aeldari maiden above the dead and destroyed land.

Her heavenly form pierced the clouds, and her blessed feet floated above the blasted earth; as if the tainted ground itself rejected her presence.

The prayers and souls of all the dead Aeldari gathered towards her like streams of silver stars, flowing into her open arms and filling her godly ears with their cries. Her divine heart moved with their sorrow, and a single dark red and black tear pooled in her eye.

As all the Necron fired their gauss weapons, and their metallic monstrosities surged forward to reach her, that burgundy drop beaded and fell from her holy cheek.

Crystalized pain and suffering from thousands of dead children in the throes of the deepest and darkest despair descended upon the planet's surface in the shape of a single tear.

As soon as the tear hit the ground, it burrowed through the earth, crushing and burning its way until it reached the dead core of the planet and exploded.

The crust tore open, releasing steaming geysers and pyroclastic flows while opening deep ravines that sent Necron soldiers and any vehicle that couldn't fly hurtling into the abyss.

Winds picked up speed until they were unbearable hurricanes that sucked up the Scythe attack craft and Canoptek swarms, smashing them together and shredding them with the debris picked up from the ground.

From the cracks torn in the crust, red glows began to rise before molten magma burst out, swallowing everything else upon the surface. Hands made of burning rock rose to grab at the Monoliths, dragging them down below the tectonic plates where the weight of the planet itself would provide the pressure and heat to crack them apart and reduce their overly complicated machinery and metals back into messy ores.

The magnetosphere reformed as the dead core of the planet was jolted back to life, molten and solid metal portions rotating in different directions that generated magnetic fields so powerful it messed with the electronics of all the Necron including those in orbit.

Thousands upon thousands of grasping arms tipped with long-nailed feminine hands formed from the burning blood of the world killed by the Necron reached upwards with open palms to grasp at the ships in orbit; unable to escape in time with their exhausted inertial drives.

One after another, Necron cruisers, escorts, and Carin-class Tomb ships were dragged down by the weight of the molten rock that grabbed at them as the long nails of the hands pierced and scratched their hulls. The doomed ships fell on a collision course with the churning planet itself which opened jagged maws made from the splintered tectonic plates themselves to swallow the Necron ships large and small.

Soon, nothing remained around or on top of the Daemon world birthed by the sufferings of a few thousand Aeldari, leaving only the screaming planet to digest the alien metals of all that had been swallowed.

The Necrons' plans for this system were put on hold, for although they had driven the Aeldari and their allies away, there was nothing they could do to reclaim the insane world to complete the Dark Resonance necessary, even after the immaterial energies finally bled away from it.

This world had been reduced to a primordial state.

Hypercanes and magma flows covered the entire surface as acid rains endlessly fell upon the surface forming boiling caustic seas.

This was the miracle of the Goddess of Life. She took the worlds utterly killed by the Necron, and 'reformatted' them so they would eventually support life, even when the Necrons finally suppressed the unnatural effects of the immaterium.

This was the miracle of life granted in the only way reality could rationalize it. A replication of the astronomically rare series of events that led to living beings emerging from self-replicating chemical reactions.

—----------------------------------------

The entire vision took less than a millisecond to play out before Neoth, and he was free the moment it ended.

He charged forwards at that moment, raising his sword to smash the burgundy crystal forming upon Isha's palm.

Goddess of Life. Mother of the Aeldari.

What sophistry and propaganda.

That was no spirit of mother nature.

She was a weapon designed to bring psychic Exterminatus on the lost dead worlds conquered by the Necron, and the terraforming device to ensure that those planets would eventually be reclaimed by new life; new psychic life that would serve as foot soldiers and sacrificial materials to power the other psychic weapons the Old Ones forged which their mortal creations called 'gods'.

That was her purpose, but her second title was what contained the secret of her power.

Isha spoke of an emotion the Old Ones had carved her core out of.

He understood what that was now.

The maternal instinct.

The Old Ones had taken the most overwhelming and overpowering emotion they knew of, and crafted their most horrible weapon out of it.

This emotion was the overwhelming mothering urge that made Panthera females adopt the babes of wildebeest and zebras instead of eating them.

This emotion was the overpowering instinct that forces fish to swim upstream only to die to leave their spawn, that forces cephalopods to starve themselves to death as they pump fresh oxygen rich water over their eggs.

This emotion provides the adrenaline fueled burst of power that would spur a female brown bear to charge suicidally at a much larger grizzly in order to save her cubs.

This emotion was all consuming and could overwrite all other natural and learned behaviors.

Thus, it did not matter what thoughts or emotions her children had when they were consumed. All would be devoured, leaving only the magnitude of their feelings being the important factor that fuelled her.

It was what explained her unnatural reserves of power reclaimed from only a few thousand Aeldari.

Efficiency.

That was the factor that the Emperor had underestimated when he made his first calculations regarding how much power Isha would recover when talking to her children.

He could consume a large portion of the thoughts and dreams of humanity thanks to expanding his concept as the legend of humanity, but the conversion rate was not 100% efficient.

Isha was different.

Thanks to the emotional equation carved into her core, she could consume every part of her children's 'life' including the best and worst parts of their being.

No.

As the Goddess of Life, her efficiency increased with the percentage of 'life' she consumed.

Thus, it was when her children died while calling out to her as their mother that she would be able to take in everything they were to fuel her as the maternal goddess of life, love, and mercy.

It was as she said.

She was a monster born from 3 billion tortured women frozen in endless suffering within her core, forced to listen to the dying wishes, pained cries, and desperate howls of their blood related children who fought to their last breath on abandoned worlds; crying out for the comfort of their parents and peaceful childhood with their last breath.

What else could shed tears formed from the same materials as those crystalline shards that were found only upon the Crone Worlds of the Aeldari empire; worlds suffused with the eternal sufferings of billions upon billions of lives trapped in the excessive pains and pleasures of She who Thirsts.

However, Isha is not an insane god of Chaos.

She is the god of life in balance, the cycle, the renewal and the end.

Despair without hope leads to self destruction. Hope without despair leads to blind optimism.

The balance of what she was created from and what she was tasked to do would be kept by her tears that would be shed with love tainted red and black.

It was small wonder Isha had remained as confident and almost arrogant this entire time he had been with her.

He had seen those streams of silver stars emanating from the Aeldari refugees from their ships flowing into Isha's breast when she first spoke to them.

Their cries filled her ears, and sorrows moved her heart just as they did in the vision he had just seen.

Like a fool, he stood by and did nothing as Isha took an empty shell casing, put in new primer, powder, and bullet before loading it into the barrel of a gun and pointed it at his head.

Now, the hammer had been cocked back, and her finger was on the trigger.

"You see why I dislike it when you speak of my titles." Isha white teeth were bared in a grin as her silver eyes opened wide as she raised the fully formed crystal in her hand as the remaining red trails of ichor disappeared into her skin. "This is my tear. The suffering of 3 billion mothers and their uncountable children, a crystal of grudges that shall kill a planet with its curses. Now, gaze upon it, this is the miracle born from the love of the Goddess of Life."

Neoth continued forwards. He could not let that thing fall.

He could not annul the crystal itself. It contained almost all of the power Isha had held, and he had been unable to deplete her in his fight with her earlier. His only method of stopping it was to strike it down with his sword.

It would detonate when he shattered it, and he had no idea whether he could survive the explosion, but he could not allow her miracle to be unleashed here.

Suddenly, there was a dull rumbling of something massive traveling through the air, and Neoth's instincts screamed at him to turn around.

He grimaced, then swung his sword raised to strike Isha's tear behind him, just in time to block a massive Wraithbone spear with a golden tip sparking with his Truth.

Far off in the distance, one of the Psychomatons rumbled like a child blowing a raspberry as its hastily repaired Wraithbone limbs cracked and crumbled beneath it.

Isha had not resummoned the next generation of the Spear of Kurnous, for she had already passed on all she had learned to the Psychomatons who were her oldest and most knowledgeable children in all things related to death and destruction.

Neoth grimaced as the Wraithbone spear continued to force him back. He had just destroyed 3 different versions of the Spear of Kurnous when he slashed apart her first arrow, crushed the second one in his gauntlet, and shattered the spear that had been left behind in his chest plate. The destruction of those three weapons had allowed Isha's weapon to proceed 3 more generations, and had reached its final evolution without his knowledge.

The Wraithbone spear began to shift, pushing Neoth perpendicularly away from Isha as his sword sparked against its tip. It was still being psychically guided by the Psychomaton, and the sheer mass of the weapon forced him backwards.

Gold flames encased his sword, and he cut through the spear, sending its disintegrating giant halves flying past him before launching a blazing shockwave at the Psychomaton who had attacked him.

But, before his flames could incinerate the Psychomaton, obsidian rocks surrounded it in a reinforced coffin before sucking it into the ground with the rest of its delimbed brethren, causing his flames to only singe the air where they once stood.

"Forgive them their interruption." Isha chuckled. "I never had the chance to teach them manners before they were taken by Khaine."

Neoth turned towards her, but the tear was no longer in her hand. He turned his Warp sight downwards, and watched the red and black drop burrow its way through the molten mantle and reach the core of the planet.

「我が呼び起こすのは星の息吹き。」
"(I wake the breath of this planet.)"

Isha spoke in a foreign language.

「大地の精霊は安らぎから目覚める。」
"(The ground spirits rise from their rest.)"

Neoth did not understand the words at first, but his new understanding of her allowed him to decipher it.

「水どもをその眠りからたたき起こせ。」
"(Let the waters be squeezed from their slumber.)"

These words were Enuncia in full sentences.

「ここにて我が血と涙を起きんとする永眠者に捧げる。」
" (Now, I give my tears and blood to this stirring eternal sleeper.)"

The language of the Old Ones that were said to reform reality at their very word.

「我が祝福をこの大地にあらんこと。」
"(Let my blessing flow across this land.)"

Isha's tear detonated at the planet's core, and the shockwave rippled the ground, throwing Neoth off his feet and away from Isha.

"This is what I really am Neoth." Isha spoke as a massive arboreal throne made of stone tore itself out of the ground behind her. "You should have wondered why there was no other thing upon the world the Aeldari first drew breath upon, and how new life could come upon a barren planet where not a leaf nor fish nor bird nor animal grew or swam or flew or walked beside my children." She referenced her legends as Neoth landed on his feet several kilometers away from her, armored boots digging into the shaking soil as he bled off the remaining force he had been thrown away with.

"This trickery is the first and the final gift my Eldanesh left for me." The Mother of the Aeldari whispered as the cathartic carnage her tear had released twisted the corners of her mouth upwards in ecstasy while the anguish of once again only being able to provide a miracle predicated on the death of her children widened her eyes with self-loathing.

Geysers and volcanoes blew open around them as they did so all across the planet, jetting boiling steam and black smoke into the air.

"Now, God of Heroes, you may call me the Goddess of Life."