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

[SuperPulp2789]

They are wasted on Slaanesh, hell I gotta say they may as well have already "died" post-corruption as all those new cruel and bizarre "interests" and "enjoyments" took over the rest of their personalities

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: Apologies for the two month hiatus. I've been trying to create a backlog of chapters, so I don't have to feel like I'm being hounded by upload dates. Real life has been busy as well, so I'll probably be switching to a monthly upload schedule. This Apocrypha was written on June 23rd, and it's mostly here because I was worried people didn't know who Rylanor was or what he is most famous for in 40K. The events are a re-telling of the latter part of Isstvan III from Rylanor's perspective.

A few Dramatis Personae might also be necessary.

Saul Tarvitz : Depending on the novel, he is a captain, first-captain, or simple line-officer within the Emperor's Children. When the loyalists were betrayed on Isstvan III, Sault Tarvitz (Emperor's Children), Garviel Loken (Sons of Horus) and Tarik Torgaddon (Sons of Horus) managed to reorganize the scattered loyalists into a cohesive fighting force. Their objective was to hold back the traitors, and find some way to report Horus's treachery to the Imperium. After three months of ruthless fighting, Horus was forced to orbitally bombard the loyalists, as their position within the Precentor's Palace had stymied every ground assault the traitors launched against it.

Vistario, Akhtar, and Murshid: The trio of Thousand Sons sent to investigate a cryptic message in the short story "The Ancient Awaits". They find Rylanor in the ruins of Isstvan III.

—-------------------------------------------------
"Hold!" Rylanor's voice boomed through the Dreadnought's speakers. Bolter shells and Volkite beams bounced off his thick adamantium carapace as he returned fire with his auto-cannon.

The Venerable Dreadnought and the dozen or so Space Marines that followed him traded fire with men using the same Mark IV Power Armor. They ducked in and out of cover, dashing out only when their brothers managed to give sufficient suppressive fire for them. Beams, bolt shells, and balls of plasma flew back and forth between both parties. Yet, Rylanor and the other loyalists were forced back, bit by bit. It was not that they were lacking in terms of armaments, protection, or tactics. They were evenly matched against their enemy in those regards. They were simply outnumbered.

Dust and rubble fell down upon them as the basement shook violently.

"They're trying to bury us with orbital bombardments!" One of the loyalists spat angrily.

Rylanor grimaced as he let loose another stream of explosive shells, forcing the traitors to hide, and allowing one of his brothers to fall back safely.

Things were much worse than they seemed.

The basement of the Precentor's Palace was well over a kilometer underground. Only the dorsally mounted Bombardment cannons of their Battle Barges could shake this place. But, that was not the worst problem. If the Precentor's Palace was being bombarded, it meant there was a hostile warship within firing range above them. A warship that might shoot down the only hope they had left here.

"Fallback to the hangar!" Rylanor ordered. "I will hold the entrance! The rest of you activate the remaining anti-orbital defenses! Stealth is no longer an option! We'll launch while the warship above us is distracted!"

The loyalists sent back their affirmations via the tactical display on their helmets, and began to retreat deeper into the facility. Rylanor stood between them and the traitors, using his Dreadnought as a moving shield as he waddled backwards. The thick adamantium blocked the bolter shells and Volkite beams fired their way, while the occasional armor piercing balls of plasma were smashed apart by his power fist's disruptive fields.

Even after his internment into a Dreadnought, Rylanor's eyes and reflexes remained largely intact. Swatting away the glowing balls of plasma, and dispersing the superheated matter before it could touch him was difficult, but not impossible.

As the Ancient retreated with the other survivors, he reflected as to how exactly they had gotten here.

Rylanor had become separated from Saul Tarvitz and the other loyalists during the initial Virus bombing. He had been outside when it happened, atop the roof of the Precentor's Palace. The civilian populace of Choral City melted away before his eyes as the Life-eater virus did its work.

The Venerable Dreadnought he had been interred in was thankfully able to withstand the virus's penetrative capabilities. Ordinary Power Armor filters only slowed the virus, and did not offer full protection. He retreated back into the Palace, after committing the atrocities of his gene-father to memory. The firestorm was coming, and even his Dreadnought would not survive it.

After that, he managed to regroup with a few other loyalists who had evaded the Life-eater virus, as well as a few unexpected individuals.

'Ironic, that we were saved by our original enemy.' Rylanor thought bitterly as he laid down another stream of suppressive fire.

The original mission on Isstvan III was the suppression of a rebellion. That mission was still underway when they had been betrayed, and there were still enemy Warsingers fighting on the planet. Rylanor and his loyalists had run into one such group of survivors as they searched for Saul Tarvitz. A battle ensued, and the Warsingers were eliminated. However, their actions puzzled Rylanor.

Soldiers who could continue fighting, even as their entire planet died around them, did not move without purpose. The Warsingers were an empathetic group of fighters. Rylanor had seen them attempt to comfort or shepherd survivors, even as the Life-eater virus ate away at their skin. A few of the other loyalists shared Rylanor's confusion, and used their enhancements to recover the last memories of their enemies. That was how they had learned of this underground hangar, and the ship that lay within it. It was this ship that had given those Warsingers the hope to keep fighting during the Virus bombing. Now, it was the hope of Rylanor and the remaining loyalists.

'One ship…' Rylanor thought as he retreated backwards into the hangar. 'If we can get one ship off this planet, we can warn the other Legions of what happened here…'

The entire underground hangar shook again as another magma bomb detonated above them. There was the scream of shearing metal, and the roof buckled. Support beams and jagged chunks of ferrocrete fell down upon them.

Rylanor smashed an incoming piece of debris with his powerfist, turning it into dust before its weight could crush him. "Take off!" he roared.

There was no more time. They had hoped to launch in secret, but the waves of traitor troops deployed after the Virus bombing forced them to fight. Now, with this orbital bombardment, they would have to put all their faith in the skills of the pilot, and dumb luck to evade the warship hovering directly overhead.

The sleek ship rose off the ground. It had no weapons, nor shields. All it had to protect itself was its speed and relatively small signal profile.

There was another quake, and the roof collapsed. Tons of rock rained down on the rising ship, slamming it back into the ground and cracking its hull. A falling support beam cut through its starboard wing. The engines of the starship flared, as the last inputs of the now dead pilot were registered. Vitrifying flames bathed the loyalists behind Rylanor, vaporizing their flesh and melting their armor in an instant.

Pure hate roared through the Dreadnought's speakers as Rylanor laid into the remaining traitors before him.

They had failed.

The traitors' deeds would go unreported and unpunished. Even as he pulverized traitors with his power fist, and tore them apart with unrelenting streams of auto-cannon fire, he had failed.

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

Rylanor was left alone in the dark, half-collapsed hangar. For some reason the stream of traitor Space Marines had petered out.

'Did a hallway or staircase collapse? Surely, I have not killed all of them.' Rylanor mused to himself. His internal tactical display showed that several days had passed since he had killed the last traitor he could find.

The Dreadnought squatted down, de-powering its servos and hydraulics as Rylanor reduced the output of his generator.

If the passage to the surface had collapsed, then Rylanor was trapped here. He was interred in a Dreadnought with only one arm. Digging himself out of here was impossible.

'Nothing to do but wait.' The Ancient thought grimly, as his consciousness slowly dropped into a stasis coma.

Whether it was rescue or the chance for further retribution, the Ancient would wait.

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

It was a sound that awoke Rylanor; a base thrumming that rippled through the very ground, sending a prickling sensation through his skin as it passed through him. His Dreadnought reactivated as a gout of dust and debris blew out of the old passageway. Rylanor kept his Dreadnought still. He was currently hidden behind the remains of the crushed starship, out of direct line of sight from the hangar doors. The allegiance of these new intruders was unknown to him, so he kept silent as they walked into the hangar.

Rylanor's concern grew as he heard the new intruders entering the hangar. Their footfalls were heavy, a clear indication of Power Armor of some sort. Yet, it was not that sound that set his nerves on edge.

It was their voices.

He could hear them talking to each other, clearly and without the tell-tale sound of vox-muffling. That meant they were walking around without their helmets on, but he could still not understand what they were saying to each other.

The Ancient looked at his tactical auspex. Only a few decades had passed since he entered his stasis-coma. If this was a few hundred, or a few thousand he might have been able to accept linguistic drift as the reason for why standard-gothic was no longer recognizable.

He heard the clatter of something being kicked across the hangar floor, followed by a series or repeated noises.

Laughter. It was laughter he was hearing. Someone was laughing in this unmarked tomb of his brothers, pissing on their graves with their mirth.

Rylanor remained still, even as fury boiled within him.

He had no idea as to the allegiance of the intruders, nor their armaments or number for that matter. Now was not the time to give in to rage. Better to let the enemy come to him.

The armored footsteps approached the starship he was hidden behind. Rylanor readied his assault-cannon. The power fist was too noisy and too bright to use for an ambush.

The foot of one of the intruders peeked out from behind the corner. Rylanor recognized the colors of the IIIrd Legion, his colors, on the boot.

The next step brought the bottom of the intruder's weapon into view. It was unlike anything Rylanor had ever seen before. Vibrantly painted, it had sinewy organic looking harp strings and echo chambers built into it. Spines and curved blades jutted out from what looked to be an almost phallic barrel with a speaker where the muzzle should have been.

The 3rd step brought the intruder's face into view, and Rylanor struck at it with his unpowered power fist the moment he saw it.

Where there had been a man's head once, was a sickening pile of wrinkled skin covered in spines and glistening lubricant. Whoever this had been, they had replaced their eyes and mouth with black diaphragms that constantly vibrated, allowing the twisted thing to see with sound.

It was a mockery that Rylanor could not allow to exist.

Rylanor stepped out of the shadows, as his former brother's headless body fell to the ground. His auto-cannon was already roaring, obliterating two more traitors as his power fist crackled to life.

More IIIrd Legion traitors were around the ruined hangar, digging through its remains. An unexploded Virus bomb lay on the ground, most likely recovered from the surface by the band of scavengers. All of them had the same or similar enhancements applied to their flesh, and held sadistic weapons in their hands. Twisted sound came from the speakers that replaced their mouths, barking orders in the form of hideous melodies.

Fire was traded between them. Pulses of sound shook the weakened hangar as Rylanor's auto-cannon shredded the traitors, causing their flailing bodies to fire up towards the ceiling. Several shots grazed the Dreadnought, sending spin-chilling vibrations throughout the metal, threatening to liquify Rylanor's flesh as cavitation bubbles formed inside the amniotic fluid around him.

The fight only lasted a few minutes. Even with their new weapons, the traitors could not kill the occupant of the Venerable Dreadnought. However, the Ancient was not uninjured.

Rylanor limped around the remains of the starship. Several of his internal systems were destroyed, and his feet were barely functional. The tactical auspex had shattered from the vibrations, and he could taste blood in the fluid around him.

'One… more…' Rylanor thought as he dragged his Dreadnought around the corner of the ship. A trail of blood and gore led to the last surviving traitor. His bisected upper torso lay there, seemingly dead.

Slowly, Rylanor approached the traitor.

Even this seemingly dead corpse could not be trusted. He was still trapped in this hangar, and that meant he would have to enter a stasis-coma again. No traitor could be left alive; either to harm him directly, or call for help.

Suddenly, the traitor flipped over. In his hands was the weapon of the first traitor Rylanor had killed.

The Dreadnought's waist and left ankle rotated in opposite directions, swiveling Rylanor's body out of the way of the traitor's weapon. The auto-cannon lowered, preparing to fire.

Then the traitor laughed. A repeated buzzing and humming sound came from the diaphragms that replaced his eyes and mouth, then he fired up into the ceiling.

Rylanor's auto-cannon obliterated the traitor's body, but the damage had been done. Ferrocrete and metal began to rain down upon him once again.

The Ancient ducked under the remains of the starship, trying to use it as cover from the debris. Metal supports punched right through the starship's hull, denting the adamantium armor and tearing off one of his legs.

Finally, the shaking stopped, and Rylanor was left alone once more.

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

'How many years has it been?' Rylanor thought idly to himself as he worked with the one hand his Dreadnought had.

Decades, at the least, although he would not have been surprised if someone told him it had been centuries. Working with only one oversized hand meant progress was infinitesimally slow.

He was currently tinkering with the twisted machine the traitor had left behind. Cables connected both him and it to the reactor of the ship. Its internal powerlines had miraculously survived both the first and second collapses, allowing Rylanor to keep both himself and the twisted contraption powered. The Dreadnought's own generator had died on him shortly after his reunion with his twisted brothers.

The contraption finally activated, letting out a constant hum of bone-tingling noise. Rylanor grabbed it and placed it in the depression he had dug behind him, on top of the other parting gift the traitors had left him. The Virus bomb they had found would be put to good use.

'Now I wait.' He thought to himself as he leaned back, allowing his weapons to point upwards, pretending to be dead.

Rylanor could not move, and he was not going to die. However, he would not spend an eternity waiting for another band of miscreants to discover him.

'Fulgrim…' Rylanor's thoughts uttered the name with thermonuclear hate. 'I will kill you for what you have done to us.' His thoughts did not stop with the compatriots who had died here. The things the IIIrd Legion had been transformed into… that was an unforgivable insult to those who had been transformed, those who remembered what they once were, and to the Emperor who originally made them.

'Come, Fulgrim.' Rylanor thought as he stared up at the ruined ceiling, scarred by the blasphemous sounds the traitors had unleashed.

'Come.'

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

Rylanor glared up at the serpentine creature that had once been his gene-father. The Primarch's lower right arm had impaled his Dreadnought's power fist with a curvaceous alien sword. Another hand had dug itself through a crack in his armor, and was currently wrapping around what remained of his body.

"Do. Not. Do. This!" He barked through the Dreadnought's speakers.

"Why not?" Fulgrim hummed, "I am your master. I can do whatever I like. I can crush you or I can raise you up." The Primarch leaned down, as if to kiss the Dreadnought's helm covering Rylanor's face. "Return to the Legion. Accept the gifts of the Dark Prince, and you will walk at my side, clad once again in flesh. You can be anything, old friend! I will sculpt you into something beautiful - a god to these mortals!"

"All we have left between us is that we will die together!" Rylanor roared.

Blue flames had begun to burn the upper carapace of the Dreadnought. The Life-eater Virus of the bomb Rylanor had just detonated was spreading across the metal, igniting the residual organic material in the dust that was on it. Everything happened in slow motion, courtesy of the psychic sorcery of the Thousand Sons.

"I am Rylanor of the Emperor's Children, Ancient of Rites, Venerable of the Palatine Host, and proud servant of the Emperor of Mankind. Beloved by all! I reject you now and always!" He shouted back in his Primarch's leering face.

Fulgrim threw his head back and laughed.

"I'm sorry, did it sound like I was offering you a choice?"

Fulgrim pulled his hand from the hole in the Dreadnought, dragging Rylanor from his sarcophagus. Nutrient tubes and umbilicals tore as his skin was exposed to the dry dusty air, spilling amniotic fluid that had expired long ago.

"I will remake you, brother." Fulgrim's elongated tongue licked his lips, sensuously wetting them before parting them to reveal the serpentine fangs beneath them. "You will be my crowning achievement." The daemon Primarch crooned as he caressed the sickly pale remains of Rylanor; holding him to his breast like a new mother would her first babe.

Cold dread filled Rylanor's thoughts. He could sense the creature Fulgrim had given himself to. He could smell its intoxicating musk and hear its melodious laughter. His Primarch had not always been like this. He had been a man of virtue once. When and how this transformation had taken place he did not know, but it had happened.

Rylanor was not arrogant enough to imagine himself to be greater than his Primarch. His gene-seed came from the being before him, after all. Unable to escape, fight, or even die he could see the inevitable fate that lay before him. He would succumb, eventually. If a demi-god couldn't resist, what chance did a mortal have?

'But, that is no reason to stop fighting.' Rylanor thought to himself as he glared up at Fulgrim. 'I have waited for over 10,000 years, buried in the rubble you and the other traitors brought down upon us. For 10,000 years I have resisted rot and blinding rage in the butchered remains of humanity's dream. For 10,000 years I have sat with the corpses of my brothers, dreaming of the day I would bring your death. This will not go easily, Fulgrim. I shall not fall to one who has forgotten what honor means.'

'Primarch Fulgrim!' A sudden psychic message sounded out, sent by the Thousand Son Vistario. 'Rylanor deserves better than you.'

The Primarch's eyes flicked upwards towards the traitor. The ecstatic glimmer within them darkened at the interruption and insult, turning his eyes into black pools filled with the most sadistic poison.

'He deserves better than all of us.' The Thousand Son thought-spoke, then he raised his bolt pistol and fired into the back of his brother's skull. Akhtar's head exploded, and the psychic spell slowing the Virus bomb's explosion lifted.

Fire spread across all of them in an instant.

Fulgrim disappeared from Rylanor's eyes, replaced only with pitch blackness.

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

The first thing Rylanor noticed when he woke was he had his hands back. He opened and closed them dumbly for a moment, unable to understand why they were there. He had lost all his limbs to a long-eared Xeno early on in the Great Crusade. The fiendish creature was quick with a blade, and had dismembered both him and his squad before being brought down by concentrated bolter fire. What's more, the Xeno's weapon had been coated in some sort of poison or virus that prevented his body from being repaired by replacement organs. Internment into a Dreadnought was the only option left for him after that.

Rylanor looked at his hands again, the first time in over 10,000 years.

'Is this the beginning?' He wondered to himself. 'The beginning of their attempts to break me?'

Fulgrim had promised to return his flesh, and here he was returned to his original body.

'But where is Fulgrim?' Rylanor thought. The place he was in was eerily quiet. He heard no melodious laughter, nor spine-chilling chuckles. He couldn't even hear the slightest hint of wind.

Slowly, Rylanor stood up, and looked around him.

He was in the land of the dead. That was the only way he could describe it. Mountains of corpses stretched for as far as the eye could see. Yet, his nostrils detected nothing. The smell of rotting flesh and voided bowels was absent, as if even the bacteria that would have started decay had died.

'So, I am dead.' Rylanor thought to himself as he sat down on the mound of bodies he had awoken upon. He looked around to see if Fulgrim was also here, but saw neither the idealized man nor the serpentine monster.

'Perhaps it is for the better…' Rylanor thought to himself. Hate still burned in his chest. Even if this were truly the afterlife, he could easily see himself trying to kill the Primarch a second time.

But that would be pointless.' He sighed to himself.

For a while, the Ancient of Rites sat there, staring out blankly at the mountainous ridges composed of corpses around him. Then he stood up, and began walking. He had no idea where to go, nor whether there was any point, but sitting here and doing nothing didn't sit well with him.

'I have done enough sitting already.' Rylanor thought to himself. 'It feels good to stretch my own legs after 10,000 years.'

For a while, Rylanor did nothing but walk up mountains of bodies, and down valleys filled with corpses. He had no idea where to go, or what to do, but he walked on regardless. After a while, he realized the scenery had changed. Instead of the land of the dead, he was walking through pitch blackness. He looked down at himself, and found him wearing his old Power Armor; complete with bolter and chainsword connected to his belt. He paused for a moment, then continued on forwards. He had no idea what this meant, but it felt good to be back in his old Power Armor. Bitter sweet nostalgia tightened the two hearts in his chest as memories of the Unification Wars and the early victories of the Great Crusade came back.

'Things were simpler back then.' Rylanor reminisced. 'The battles were costly, and the sacrifices were great. Yet, we still restored more than we ruined.'

They still fought for a dream back then. A dream of a new golden age for humanity.

As Rylanor continued walking, he realized there were others around him. Dark figures hidden in shadow walked endlessly through the darkness beside him. Some did so with obvious signs of fear; backs bent and knees shaking. Others marched stoically, like trained soldiers trekking across a plain.

Suddenly, the darkness lifted as golden light shined from behind him. It drew a sparkling line across the ground, illuminating his path in the darkness.

A familiar presence came from Rylanor's back. The Ancient of Rites turned, and his eyes widened as he saw a familiar face.

"You are-"

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

A/N: So, Rylanor gets some closure after his canon death in 40K in this-verse.

I have a channel on the Craftworld Iyanden Discord. Feel free to AMA there.

Join the Craftworld Iyanden Discord Server!

Check out the Craftworld Iyanden community on Discord - hang out with 471 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.

discord.gg

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N: Character Reminder

Lorien: A girl rescued from the Vindicare Temple. She struggles with the mental conditioning of the training there, and has an almost psychotic hatred of weakness instilled in her.

Elalindra: One of Isha's simulacra. She takes the form of an Aeldari woman with gray eyes and red hair.

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

Isha watched the children rescued from the Assassin Temples through the eyes of her simulacra. The two weeks she had spent reassuring them of their safety with her, and nurturing the bond of trust had born fruit. The emotions of the children had largely returned, and they could talk with both her and each other normally. Jokes, pranks, playtime, and laughter were slowly returning to their behavior patterns. However, they were far from fine.

Their mental conditioning still remained, which had led to a couple incidents. One child almost dislocated another child's shoulder due a triggered combat reflex. Another struck her friend's solar plexus hard enough to paralyze their diaphragm during a game of tag.

'They didn't mean to.' Isha sighed to herself, remembering the look of shock on their faces when they realized what they had done.

Thankfully, her simulacras' talents in biomancy ensured no lasting harm was done. However, she could sense fear building up inside them.

'They fear their lack of control…' Isha thought to herself as one of her simulacra hugged another of the children who had acted out accidentally. 'So I must give it to them.'

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

"Sparring practice?" Lorien repeated Elalindra's words dumbly.

"Your body moves without your mind." Elalindra replied cryptically. "The weapons you have been given must be made yours, otherwise they will wield you."

Lorien stifled a sigh. Elalindra was kind to her, and the other children. However, there were times when she was extremely vague in her answers.

Currently, Lorien and the other children rescued from the Master were sitting at a circular table eating breakfast. The menu was a simple but filling combination of flatbread and various hummus.

The other children looked at each other worriedly. Sparring was not something they had fond memories of, and although they knew Elalindra and the other long-eared women meant them no harm, they couldn't stop the chill they felt at the word.

"I don't want to." Lorien said glumly, looking down at her half eaten flatbread.

"I know." Elalindra nodded. "I know you fear hurting others and being hurt yourself." She reached down, cupping Lorien's cheek. "What you fear shall not come to pass, for you will not be facing each other. You will all be facing me."

The long-eared red haired women smiled as surprise widened Lorien's eyes. "I will allow you to face your fear through me. Master the monster you see inside yourself, and make peace with what you are."

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

Lorien and the other children walked out into the gymnasium they all used for daily exercise. White springy curls now covered the floor. Several other long-eared women were walking around the gymnasium, singing softly. The white material grew where they stepped, covering the hard floor with a carpet that felt like soft grass beneath Lorien's feet. Other groups of children walked with their caretakers, spreading out across the gymnasium.

"Don't worry." Elalindra said with a smile. "You won't be sparring against each other. I will teach you how to use what you have been given. Now, gather around me."

Lorien and the others encircled Elalindra, faces slightly tense.

The moment they completed the circle, Elalindra's form blurred. She lunged like a fencer, swiftly approaching one of the boys in the circle. The sudden movement triggered his killing reflex. His center of balance dropped, and he jabbed at where he thought her throat would be. But, instead of soft cartilage, his fist slapped into Elalindra's open hand. With a pull and a twist, the boy was sent rolling past the long-eared woman.

"Stand up." Elalindra said as she extended a hand towards the fallen child. He shook his head, dizzy but unhurt. "All you have are reflexes." She said as she pulled the boy back onto his feet. "There is no thought, no control, only speed, and action in your movements. Hence, it is easy to use your own movements against you." Her back straightened as the boy returned to his earlier position. "You have all been given weapons, but you do not know how to use them. That is dangerous, for you hold something that can harm others, but cannot wield it well enough to defend yourself." Her eyes met theirs as she turned to each child. "Make those weapons your own. Wield them willingly, and with purpose."

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

- Lorien

My knees collapsed under me as I panted breathlessly. All the others were in a similar state, either lying back or sitting down covered in sweat.

Elalindra's sparring session had gone on for hours, and not once had we been able to hit her. It was as if she knew what we would do before we did it, twisting and twirling out of the way at the last moment. Even when we surrounded her, she remained untouchable. All that could be seen was a blinding flash of red hair, trailing behind her like the tail of a comet.

I glared up at the gray eyed woman. She smiled back, a patronizing expression mixed with bored amusement.

A spark of anger flared in my brain, sending electrical impulses that forced my lactic-acid laden muscles to stand up again.

"Weakness." Elalindra said as she sidestepped my punch. "That is what you fear." Her tone remained unmoved, even as she twirled out of reach of my follow-up chop. "Even the perception of being looked down upon is enough to send adrenaline through your brain."

I grit my teeth as I spun to follow her. The instincts beaten into me by the Master and his assistants fired one after the other, sending punches, kicks, elbow strikes, and knees after her.

"But, it is not only that." Elalindra chuckled as she danced around me. "You hate losing. You hate being weak. You hate being looked down upon."

Hot. My body felt like it was burning. A bloody red was staining everything I saw.

'Losing means death. I cannot lose.'

My mind went back to the dark training grounds; to the last day I was there. We were all paired up, and then ordered to kill our opponent.

We were evenly matched. Both of us had survived there for years.

But I lost.

I stumbled, tripping on nothing and collapsed onto the soft white grass.

"That is why you lost." Elalindra crouched down, kneeling before me.

My arms and legs shook as I tried to get back up.

I was back in the Master's training grounds, on the hard floor with my arms and legs shaking. The other child was still standing; fists raised, knees bent. I forced my body to stand again, and lunged.

"You refused to lose." Elalindra murmured as she watched me struggle, slipping on the white ground beneath us.

The floor of the training grounds was gray. I observed that as I fell down onto it again. My blood was the only thing that colored it, a dark sticky red that splattered onto the dull background. One more time, I rose. I couldn't lose. I needed to…

"That's not true, is it?" Elalindra asked me, bringing me back to the gymnasium. "You didn't lose when you were beaten and broken. You lost much earlier than that."

I glared up at the red-haired woman. The lights above her cast a shadow over me.

I was back in the training grounds again, thrown back onto the hard stones after my lunge, staring up at my opponent.

We were supposed to be evenly matched, but every time we traded blows I was the one who ended up on the ground. He stood back, feet apart and arms raised.

'Losing means death. I cannot lose.'

My teeth ground together as I rose. We were ordered to fight to the death by the master, but all he did was stand back and wait as I got up.

"You didn't stop." Elalindra's voice brought me back out of the memory. "You kept on attacking, even though your body couldn't keep up."

"He was weak." I spat back, dazed and delirious from exertion. My vision swam in and out of focus as the white carpet of the gymnasium was replaced with the gray stones of the training grounds. "He wouldn't finish me off. He let me get up."

"Because that was the easiest way to kill you." Elalindra said softly. "You could have used the time he gave you to catch your breath, or observe your opponent. Instead, you attacked again and again until your stamina ran out. He used your own aggression against you, letting you waste your energy while allowing you to slam yourself into the hard ground when you fell."

My mind replayed the entire fight back in the training grounds. We were evenly matched, and at first neither of us had the advantage. Then a jab went under my guard, and hit me in the ribs. It was not a painful blow, but it was strong enough to make me lose a single breath. I countered, trying to inflict an equal amount of damage, but I was a second too slow. He guarded my blow, and from then on I was a single breath behind him. That small disadvantage began to build up as more and more jabs and blows slipped under or through my guard. What was one missed breath became two, then three.

He hopped backwards after grazing my jaw with a left hook. I charged after him, trying to tackle him to the ground. I couldn't keep up with him using punches and kicks, so I tried to wrestle him to the ground. But, my hands never touched him. He threw me over his shoulder, letting me slam into the hard ground.

After that, I was stuck in a loop. I'd get thrown to the ground, stand up and charge, then get thrown to the ground again. Every time a new bruise bloomed across my skin, brought on by gravity and the hard ground.

Finally, it was all I could do to stand, and it was only then he moved in. I endured another half-hour of punches and kicks, but eventually I collapsed in a bloody mess.

Then, I was swallowed by the black beast.

"Your aggression almost got you killed." Elalindra said softly. "Although important, aggression alone will not keep you alive. I will teach you the other things you need." She reached down and picked me up. "The first thing you will need to learn is that not all battles can be won." She said softly.

"Come now. Today's bodily exercise is over." Elalindra said to the other children, helping them to their feet as well. "After lunch, we will be exercising your mind next."

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

The afternoon lessons were something Elalindra and the others had begun a few days after Lorien and the other children had arrived here. They covered arithmetics, geography, gothic-linguistics, and history. Despite their inhuman appearance, they were quite well versed in those topics.

However, instead of allowing the children to disperse and spend a little free time before dinner, Elalindra began another lesson.

"What do you think the key is to achieving victory throughout history?" Elalindra asked at the end of their history lesson. "Is it economics, military strength, social policy, tactics, or technology?"

Lorien and the others pondered over the question for a moment. There were several case studies Elalindra had spoken to them about where one or more of these factors had been important. Economics ensured supplies for a prolonged campaign. Military strength provided the raw power to brute force a win. Social policies that cultivated loyalty towards a state could create a unity that could withstand great adversity. Tactics and technology both created asymmetries in ability that could change the tide of a critical battle.

All of them seemed probable answers, but since there was an example for each one, it was a hard choice to make.

"Good." Elalindra nodded as the children pondered in silence. "You have listened to me well over these past few weeks. Well enough to know that the answer was not one of the examples I gave."

Lorien frowned slightly. It was a sly trick to list various options, as if they were valid choices, while hiding the true answer in silence. Then again, Elalindra and the other women were never quite forthright about anything.

"The answer I was looking for was diplomacy." Elalindra said. "When faced with an adversary, the easiest way to overcome them is to face them with a friend. Why is this?"

It sounded like a simple question, but none of the children came up with the same answer.

"Having a friend means you outnumber them." One answered.

"That can be true. For individuals, we are rarely more than ourselves. Hence, having more friends means having more numbers. Yet, for countries or factions that can vary in size, having an ally could still mean you are still lesser even when combined. What other reasons might diplomacy have been the greatest factor in achieving victory?"

"They could be in a different place to where you are." Another child piped up. "That could allow for a pincer movement or a surround."

"Indeed." Elalindra nodded. "Having an ally far away could be far more valuable than having one next to you."

"Elalindra?" One of the children suddenly asked. "When you say victory, are you talking only about battles?"

"Well noticed." The red-haired woman smiled. "You have good ears. Victory can be achieved in many ways. Battle is but one of them. Trade embargos, treaties, creating co-dependent economies… All of these are ways to achieve victory through economic means."

"You can't win by just making money." Lorien grumbled.

"That is true." Elalindra nodded. "However, economics is an important factor for victory. It can both win battles and prevent them from happening in the first place."

"But, how do you make allies Elalindra?" Another boy asked.

"There are many ways. But, the one I will teach you from today is called diplomacy."

"Isn't that just talking with someone?"

"At face value, it is. Yet, convincing someone with mostly words is a difficult task. Successful diplomats need to use everything around them in order to gain the outcome they want. Today's case study begins in the city of Muntinlupa. There was a war there. A dreadful one, with atrocities committed by all parties involved. However, this is not the part to discuss for today. At the end of the war, hundreds of former soldiers were captured as prisoners of war, and incarcerated in the jail of Muntinlupa. The president of the country Muntinlupa was in wished to execute them all. He personally had lost his wife, children, and siblings to the invaders. Retributionist sentiments amongst the populace were high, and many were against the idea of continuing to feed and imprison the prisoners of war. Killing them would have increased his popularity greatly. However, all of the prisoners of war were eventually set free, and sent back to their homeland. This was brought about by several years of diplomacy that appealed to both the economic and emotional sentiments of all parties."

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

Lorien listened to Elalindra's story of the song "Night Goes on in Muntinlupa".

It was a song written by two men held in prison, sent to fight in a war they didn't want to. That captured their feelings of sorrow and homesick, and managed to get it back to their homeland. This song soon found itself in the streets of their defeated homeland, and rekindled efforts to see them repatriated. Yet, the stance of the president remained strongly opposed to pardoning the prisoners of war, even with future promises of economic aid and assistance.

That was, until a music box containing the song "Night Goes on in Muntinlupa" was sent to him as a gift. It contained none of the lyrics, but the song itself drew the president's interest. When he was told where the song had come from, as well as the lyrics, the president remained silent for a time.

A few days later, the surviving prisoners of war were all pardoned by the president.

To his people, he gave a speech explaining his actions with the following quote.

"I should be the last one to pardon them as they killed my wife and three children and five other members of the family. I am doing this because I do not want my children and my people to inherit from me hate for people who might yet be our friends for the permanent interest of the country. After all, destiny has made us neighbors."

"Diplomacy does not take place only at the conference table, or only with carrots and sticks." Elalindra said as she began to end the lesson. "It is not an art form that is devoid of soul, and made to be purely materialistic. At times, one must implore to another's mercy, and trust in the goodness of their soul and their desire for a better future."

Lorien stared up at the red haired woman. Although it was a pleasant story with a happy ending, it scared her. Believing in the good will of another did not come easy for her. Even now she was distant from the other children, not even bothering to remember their names. They were all still competitors in the struggle for survival to her, even if the environment they were in was kinder than the Master's.

"Now, stand up, all of you." Elalindra said. "Bring out the tables and help me with the plates. It is dinner time now."

Lorien stood up and began to do her bit with the others in silence.

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

A/N: The story of Muntinlupa is a real-life one, and a good example of how diplomacy can turn bitter enemies into begrudging neighbors and eventually into friends. The fact that it was a song that changed everything is also something quite Aeldari. I have changed the quote a little-bit to remove mentions of countries so it is not inherently obvious which ones are being spoken of (plus it is another reference from over 28,000 years ago in-story). However, I felt it was not right to convert that story into a fictional futuristic one that was similar to it, so I have once again used a real-life example from our history.

 

[Nidhog153]

Neoth watched the exit ramp of his Stormbird open onto one of the landing pads of the Sanctum Imperialis. The flight had been otherwise uneventful, with the miniature Isha having fallen silent in her impromptu prison.

'The tri-weekly meeting in the Chamber of Lords. Appointing the new Grand Provost Marshal. Preparing additional envoys and messages to Merica and Hy Brasil. Discussing the new messages for my Iterators regarding religion. Codifying all of it into law… And of course, finding time to talk with the Paternova of the Navigators.'

He stifled a sigh as he listed out his schedule for the day.

'And on top of that, I have that soul-transfer device I need to work on with Isha.'

And he would have to do all of it by himself.

Neoth cast a slightly envious look at the metal box Isha's simulacra was locked in.

As a 'mortal', he was always only himself. In other words, although he could create an illusion to replace himself, he couldn't actually create multiple copies of himself to split up his workload. The Emperor was only a great man, and that mythology needed to be preserved to keep himself in the materium.

Isha, on the other hand, could exist in multiple states at once. While he was the Emperor and only the Emperor, all of Isha's simulacra and herself were 'normal' life-forms that 'coincidentally' acted in accordance with what Isha would do.

'Then again…' He thought to himself as he got off the Stormbird. 'It would be a nightmare to keep all of the simulacra's memories in coherence.'

Time was relative, and each simulacra had its own individual perception of time. Hence, there was no true way to keep the events each simulacra experienced in an unquestionable timeline. She could use references, such as clocks or events that her simulacra experienced from different perspectives to arrange what she saw or heard in a manageable order, but it would still be a mental nightmare to organize all the experiences into one coherent memory.

Although, perhaps she didn't bother to organize the events at all. Time was meaningless in the immaterium, and that was what she was used to. Therefore, the order of events was probably less important to beings such as her.

Neoth pondered on the oddities of a being with very little concept of time as he walked back to his office. It was a useful distraction to temporarily ignore the jam packed status of his schedule. His Custodes followed behind him. One of them carried the metal box Isha's simulacra was in.

The doors to his office opened, moved by his psychic strength. He felt a certain silver pair of eyes watching him from one of the alcoves above, and let out an internal sigh. Motioning for his Custodes to place the metal box on his desk, he then sent them out and shut the door telekinetically behind them.

"I would hope you are here for something constructive, for I have no interest in continuing our argument." He said irritably in the direction he felt the alien goddess was.

"I am not here to waste your time." Isha replied with a slight pout. "You only have another twenty or so minutes before you have to sit above your Lords and watch them bicker."

"Then I will get straight to the point." Neoth said as he pulled a data tablet from his pocket dimension. "I have designs for the soul transfer machine you spoke of once, and I want to run them by you."

"Fine." Isha said as she approached the metal box on his desk and unlocked it. "Show me your designs."

Neoth moved to hand the device to Isha, then stopped. The doll sized Isha he had expected to pop out of the box never came. Instead, an ivory white arachnid shaped creature crawled out of it onto Isha's arm. The closest thing it resembled was a spider, but only in the fact that it had two main body parts and many legs. In fact, it was impossible to say how many legs it had at one time at all. Instead of walking, it moved by growing new quadruple jointed legs from its carapaced front half. Then, it would suck the outstretched leg back into itself, pulling itself forwards, like the pseudopodia of some sort of protozoa.

"What's wrong?" Isha said as she stroked the hand-sized spider-like thing on the back.

"Nothing." Neoth stated calmly, although he didn't step any closer towards Isha. Both eyes remained fixed cautiously on the many legged creature that had reached Isha's shoulder.

"Ah, you've met the White Guardians before." Isha said with a chuckle, stroking the rounded beetle like carapace that covered its top half.

"I have." Neoth replied tersely.

The thing on Isha's shoulder was a Warp Spider, one of the many natural denizens of the Webway. They did not populate every region of it, thankfully. The regions that they did inhabit were off limits to all but the Aeldari. Neoth had several encounters with them. None of them were pleasant.

"Do not worry." Isha chuckled again, amused by Neoth's discomfort. "I have merely transformed the simulacra into something else. It is easier to stay in the materium when there is only one of you."

'Then… what shape did you take while the simulacra was talking to me?' Neoth thought to himself. An unpleasant image of a human-sized Warp Spider taking Isha's place flitted through Neoth's mind, and he quickly dismissed it. Hopefully it was a plant or something else less dangerous she had transformed into.

"Are they a species incorporated into your cycle of life?" Neoth said as he finally approached Isha and handed her the data tablet.

"They are. Although, they existed before my children." Isha said as she began to browse through the various designs. "They are natural inhabitants of the Webway, and the source of some of my children's technology. Bonesinging was developed by observing their unique biology. A sort of biomimesis, if you will. It is why they can flow from the Webway to Wraithbone constructs so fluidly."

"What are they?" Neoth asked as Isha scrolled through pages of design documentation and notes in a couple of seconds.

"A form of life that is no longer capable of surviving in this galaxy." Isha sighed. "Before the War in Heaven, the Sea of Souls was easier to access. Its resources were not inherently dangerous to use, and many species were able to thrive with the power it provided. The Warp Spiders are one of those species, and used to be able to survive outside of the Webway and certain Wraithbone constructs. Now, they cannot survive in the materium." She scratched the Warp Spider's carapace again. "Although, that is probably preferable to you."

"I have seen these things feed. It was not a pleasant sight." Neoth muttered.

The Warp Spiders, or White Guardians as the Aeldari called them, inhabited certain sections of the Webway. Sections Neoth gave a wide berth during his initial travels through the Webway. He had watched what happened to any mortal or immortal that entered their domain unprepared.

'They eat existence.' Neoth remembered as he kept a wary eye on the Warp Spider.

Through some freak coincidence, the Warp Spider shared two features with terrestrial spiders. They could eject a stringy silk-like substance, and they digested their prey outside their body.

Their 'silk' was ejected from the tips of the leg-like appendages they could grow at will. However, unlike terrestrial spiders, their 'silk' was not a chemical polymer chain. It was actually a part of their body, elongated and narrowed to the point they appeared like strands of silky filaments. These would cling to their prey, and begin to digest it.

Warp Spiders didn't just eat the physical body, but devoured everything that composed their victims. Thoughts, emotions, memories. All of it. The most recent thoughts were eaten first, often causing their prey to forget how they wandered into the Warp Spiders' feeding ground in the first place. They would become confused, lost, and surrounded by swarms of Warp Spiders pouring out of the very fabric of the Webway.

It was an insidious way of feeding. Their victims would be unable to form coherent thoughts in order to escape their situation. Such thoughts would be consumed as they were being made by the Warp Spiders. This effectively paralyzed their victims with confusion, as more and more of them was eaten. Eventually, they wouldn't even remember why they even attempted to enter the Webway. It would feel as if they were transported from their home, possibly even their childhood, into the midst of thousands upon thousands of white, long-limbed, carapaced creatures.

'A live lobotomization.' Neoth thought grimly, remembering the thrashing daemons he had once seen being fed upon by the Warp Spiders. They covered it from head to toe, eating even the Warp flames it ejected in self-defense.

"Do you fear them?" Isha asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I do not have pleasant memories of them." Neoth said grimly. "I ran afoul of them once, when I was first exploring the Webway. It was not a pleasant experience."

"I am not surprised." Isha chuckled. "As a species that is part of my cycle of life, they are quite hostile to anything not of my blood. However, there is no reason to fear them now. You are far wiser, and more powerful now than you were then."

"I may be able to deal with a few thousand, but even then killing them is pointless." Neoth muttered. "At best, it is a waste of my power. At worst, it could allow daemons to infiltrate the portions that I purge."

"Yes, there is a reason the Webway remains free from daemonic incursion, despite the damage it sustained during the War in Heaven. Although…" Isha sighed. "They have not acclimatized to the newer portions of the Webway."

"Can you not order them to move into those regions?" Neoth asked.

"Just because a species becomes part of my cycle of life does not mean I can control them." Isha snorted as the Warp Spider sank through her skin, returning the small portion she had cast off to watch the Emperor's speech to his Thunder Warriors. "They merely see my children in a favorable light, for all species that are part of my cycle can be reborn through my tears. As my continued existence is dependent on the wellbeing of my children, the species that are part of my cycle instinctively know it is counterproductive for them to hurt them."

'Symbiosis…' Neoth thought to himself. That was the relation between the Aeldari and the other species within Isha's cycle of life. The Tear of Isha was a terraforming miracle in the form of a psychic data matrix that would reformat a planet and seed it with species from the goddess's cycle of life. Isha's and the Aeldari's existence essentially served as a backup for any species that went extinct. Hence, the instinctual favoritism said creatures felt towards the Aeldari. Of course, it was just an instinct. Individual organisms could still learn to hate the Aeldari if given enough reason to.

Isha finished reviewing the information on the data tablet and returned it to Neoth.

"The core concepts you have here are correct, but the methodology is both abrasive and limited." Isha gave her conclusion. "Using materials that can transfer psychic energy, such as the alloys you use to make force weapons, as a restrictive medium for the soul to travel will prevent the psychic energy that forms the soul from dissipating. However, your alloys do not have the ability to transfer or store detailed information. This will cause many memories and their personality to be lost during the transfer. You may achieve a sort of reincarnation with this, but the result would be an incoherent wreck at best. They would be the lucky ones. At least they would still be able to move and possibly recover with an entirely new personality. Most will not retain even their basic survival instincts. Catatonia or coma is all that awaits them in their new life."

Neoth grimmaced. This was, quite frankly, his own assessment of his designs. Souls were a form of organized psychic energy that contained all the information that composed a person's personality and memories. His design sought to exploit that feature by using psychic conductive materials as a sort of piping or wiring to carry the soul from one physical form to another.

Most human souls dissipated upon entering the immaterium, releasing all of their energy and information into the Warp. Those that didn't either had control of psychic energy during their life, or their psychic energy was 'colored' by their information to the point it retained their identity even when freed from the body.

His solution isolated the soul from the immaterium, giving it nothing to dissipate into in the first place.

The only problem was that force weapon alloys were only meant to conduct psychic energy, and redirect it into the weapon's emitters or storage units. Naturally, this meant there was very little consideration for the information within that psychic energy. It was a bit like forcing a boiled egg through a sieve. The amount of egg wouldn't change, but its shape and texture would.

That was the core issue with his design, although it was not the only issue.

"I can see that you've tried to reduce the damage to the target's soul by widening the channels for psychic energy within the alloys, and by cutting apart the individual's soul before the transfer process. By partitioning the soul in an organized manner, you hoped to reduce the amount of information lost during transit." Isha said as she crossed her arms. "However, transferring a soul in this manner is a bit like using an uninsulated wire. I would say that only half of the psychic energy that composes a soul will end at its destination, and that's the optimistic assumption."

That was the other issue. Force metal alloys were not the most efficient material to transfer psychic energy.

Neoth had considered using the limited supplies of Blackstone, or Noctilith as it was called during the Dark Age of Technology, but that in itself was a self-contradiction. Blackstone could act as an insulative material for the soul transfer process, but it would also prevent him from assisting or observing the process. As this was a psychic procedure, using something that would block his own psychic abilities was paradoxical at best, self-defeating at worst. The target's soul could end up trapped in the device, with no way to get it out except destroying it. Of course, if he destroyed the device while the soul was stuck in it, it would dissipate into the immaterium. Hence, it would be an immense waste of time and resources for everyone involved.

"I understand my design has failings." Neoth replied. "I was hoping for solutions, rather than criticisms."

"What solutions can I offer with materials such as these?" Isha sighed. "It would be like attempting to build a void ship out of sand and spit."

"These are the materials mankind can reproduce on its own." Neoth grumbled. "I know the psycho-plastic nature of Wraithbone is the ideal material for my purposes. However, this device must be reproducible on a galactic scale. Making it out of Wraithbone would make that impossible."

"You wish for a final scalable version in two years? For what? Surely, a serviceable prototype will be enough for your Thunder Warriors."

"Creating a proto-type predicated on Wraithbone would cause all other versions to be dependent on it."

"Your Imperium already intends to use the materials of my children." Isha huffed. "That relic you call the Golden Throne is wrought from Wraithbone and Aeldari runes covered in a shell of auramite and adamantium."

Neoth narrowed his eyes at the accusation. The Golden Throne was a relic from the Dark Age of Technology. He had discovered it under the deserts of Asia, and was currently assembling the parts to reconstruct it within the Sanctum Imperialis. Its innards were Aeldari in origin, but to describe it as an entirely Aeldari creation rankled his pride.

"It is a human invention." Neoth retorted. "When a hunter carves a statue out of an ivory tusk, the elephant is not attributed as its creator."

He saw Isha's ears twitch irritably at the comparison but she remained silent. There was a strange look in her eyes, somewhere between pity and frustration.

"Regardless, the Golden Throne only has to be made once." He continued, unable to decipher the look he received, but taking her silence to be an acquiescence to his argument. "This is different. It needs to eventually be replicated enmasse, and adopted as a part of the recruitment method of my legions."

"And you are afraid of this process becoming reliant on the Aeldari?"

"My caution is two fold." Neoth shrugged. "Yes, I do not want my Imperium to be reliant on aliens. However, this is also to protect your children from my citizens."

"Oh?" Isha exclaimed with a raised eyebrow. "Do explain."

"There will be many who will be tempted by the idea of true reincarnation." Neoth stated calmly. "Some may attempt to replicate what we create here. If they came to the conclusion that Wraithbone was all they needed, they would be motivated to take those materials from your children. Some may do this peacefully. Others will not."

Isha shrugged at that.

"If you are worried about what your people might do to the Aeldari, then do not. I am confident my children can deal with those who would attempt to steal from them. Additionally, although irreplaceable for you, Wraithbone is not as precious to my children. They have provided tools and gifts made of Wraithbone to the client races and other aliens in the past. They may do so for you, should you make the appropriate alliances."

"And what would they ask for in return?"

"That would depend on the time, place, and individuals involved." Isha shrugged. "Of course, you do not have the time to go searching for my children. So, I will provide you with the materials you need to create the device."

"That is rather generous of you." Neoth said with narrowed eyes, questioning her nonverbally what she wanted in return for the Wraithbone.

"We are working together, for the time being." Isha replied with a coy smile. "Besides, it would be less irritating for me to work with what I know instead of using your alloys."

Neoth frowned for a moment, then sighed. Perhaps this was her way of returning his previous gesture, when he said he was going to include greater aspects of mercy and fairness into the social structure of the Imperium.

"Do as you wish then." He said as he stepped past her towards the doors. "I have a meeting to watch over. Feel free to add any notes or comments to the designs in that data tablet. I will review them at the end of the day."

Isha watched him leave before turning back to the data tablet.

She had sown the first seeds of cooperation. Hopefully they would sprout further on. The soul transfer machine was not a critical part of the Imperium, but it was a slightly useful one. Having her children become necessary to this one small aspect of the Imperium's future recruitment process would allow some trade connections to be created. That alone would make it easier for future relations to be made, and reduce the chance of war breaking out between them.

'And it will hopefully allow me to convince him to assist him with his other projects.' She thought to herself.

The Golden Throne, and its sister device, the Dark Glass were replications of Soul Engines. The Old Ones had used them to create deities like herself and the Webway. The versions the humans had taken inspiration from were most likely later versions the Old Ones had made the Aeldari create, but that did not make the designs Aeldari.

'You believe it will be the crowning achievement of your Imperium.' She thought to herself ruefully, staring out of the window and across the surface of Terra. Her Warpsight penetrated the desert sands of the Asiatic plate, allowing her eyes to inspect the mountainous pyramidal construct buried deep beneath the surface.

'You believe it will allow you to take my children's inheritance, the Webway, and claim it for yourself. Yet, you do not see the true danger you invite into the heart of your Imperium.'

She let out a soft sigh, remembering the great deed of Shaimesh, and his port city of Commorragh.

The Warp Spiders did not inhabit that section of the Webway, and that left it vulnerable to the horrors of the Warp. No doubt it was under siege by the Ruinous Powers and other psychic predators at this very moment.

Dysjunction.

It was a phenomenon only seen near the Webway cities of the Aeldari that were made with Shaimesh's knowledge. In these regions of non-space, the unreality of the Warp could penetrate the Webway and spill daemons and madness into it.

The Golden Throne invited the same danger to this planet. Neoth may think his immaterial hating touch would be enough to hold the daemons back, but the Webway was not a structure made of physical parts. A breach within it could not be patched up like a leaky pipe. Once broken, that fact would be impossible to change.

Isha turned back to the data tablet.

There was still time. Neoth would only attempt to complete the Golden Throne after recovering the Dark Glass. That meant she had at least until the beginning of his Great Crusade to find a solution for that particular problem.

'We do what we can when we can.' She said to herself as she began to add to Neoth's designs.
--------------------------------------

Join the Craftworld Iyanden Discord Server!

Check out the Craftworld Iyanden community on Discord - hang out with 497 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.

discord.gg

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N:

C'tan and Aeldari terminology:

Nyadra'zatha: the Burning One, the Immolating Glee, the Breath of the Infinite Pit. This is the C'tan responsible for the breaching of the Webway, and the creation of the Dolmen Gates. With the appropriate rituals, shards of this C'tan can allow Necron to pass into the Webway, giving them another means of teleportation on top of their; translocation technology, Inertialess Drives, chronomancy (Veil of Darkness), Phase Shifters, and Eternity Gates. (These are all forms of matter transfer/teleportation or seeming teleportation that the Necron possess. Not all of them are FTL.) Trazyn recovers another shard of this C'tan from Midgardia, which had escaped his collection during the War in Heaven. Nyadra'zatha's destruction is described in the 9th ed Necron Codex by the Aeldari as such.

"The mirth of all cruel things was Nyadra'zatha, who was called the Burning One, the Immolating Glee, and the Breath of the Infinite Pit. All things were its kindling for its will was the searing that blackened the strands of aeons, and its ravenous touch no thing of the real nor the Echo-realm might endure. It was the pyre of the labyrinth, the torch of the ziggurats lost, the reaping winds of ember-blight. How came that thing unto its end no record speaks, but that a single etching upon a single wall upon a single world shows the Silent Lord himself laying the spear unto its molten heart.

So fell Nyadra'zatha, the Burning One." - the Book of Mournful Night, the Dirge of Stars Extinguished

The Dais of Dominion, which is the Silent King's mobile throne, is powered by Nyadra'zatha's essence. This allows the Dais and its occupants to tear a rift into the Webway, allowing it to teleport across vast interstellar gulfs.

Nyadra'zatha's shards can affect the planets they land on, with the shard on Midgardia causing the magma of the planet to form seas of fire on the planet's surface. In the event the shard is freed, according to the "Champions of Fenris A Codex: Space Wolves Supplement", it has the ability to set fire to everything within the range of a bolt pistol.

oghyr: This is another term for Necron, and the War in Heaven. It is used when an Aeldari wants to refer to these in a mocking or negative light. Its real-world roots stem from Manx Gaelic, and it means "spawn, roe". It is used with a similar meaning in the Necron Codex, with the Necrontyr's first war against the Old Ones being referred to as below:

"Alternative myths tell of the war as an oghyr both petty and unworthy, the changeling child of ambition bred of jealousy and spite that soon outgrew those who birthed it and sought to devour them all." - the Book of Mournful Night, the Dirge of Stars Extinguished

"Then there came a time when the oghyr walked the blood roads between stars in manifold guises, and the glittering hordes marched upon the fastness eternal while the Yngir soared on high. The labyrinth was flayed bare, its twisting ways trammeled and its secrets turned back upon those who first whispered to them." - the Book of Mournful Night, the Dirge of Stars Extinguished

I've translated it to be a double insult against the Necron.

Firstly, it points out the fact that they are not the Necrontyr, but created from them. So, there is no way of them going back from their cursed existence. This underlines that they are essentially 'copies' of the original claiming to have an unbroken stream of consciousness.

Second, it points out that they were birthed with the assistance of the C'tan, who are purposefully placed at the lowest rung of modern Necron society due to their past enslavement to them. To be reminded of who created them is an insult in itself.

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

Isha woke from her silken hammock with a start. The room was dark and Ael Wyntor was fast asleep in the bed far below her.

'The Webway…' She thought to herself, analyzing the reason for her waking.

A sharp pining feeling of loss punctured her breast, as if she had just set her eyes upon the burned ruins of something treasured.

"Nyadra'zatha…" She snarled the name of the Star God who was first to invade the Webway.

Isha rose from her hammock, and dropped next to the window. Her feet bent, absorbing both the shock and sound of her landing. Screws and seals unwound themselves at her psychic commands, and the window popped out of its sill as she stepped towards it.

The Goddess of Life leapt onto the now open window sill, then hopped upwards to the Emperor's office. The window fixed itself behind her as she skipped across the near vertical wall, traveling another several dozen meters in a single bound.

There are precious few beings who could interfere with the Webway.

The Old Ones who created it, the Aeldari who inherited it, and the Necron who carved their way into it; following in the Burning One's charred footsteps.

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

Neoth was sitting at his desk, reading through the notes Isha had left him. The sun had already set, and it was well past midnight. The mortal staff or the Imperial Palace's bureaucracy already slumbered, so there was no other work for him to do. Usually he would walk through the masses of mankind in disguise. However, today he had the soul transfer mechanism to prepare, so he used the little free time he had to continue working.

The schematics on the data tablet changed rapidly as various iterations and models were tested and rejected. Suddenly, all activity on the data tablet stopped as the Emperor blinked. He turned to the stained glass window behind him and its individual colored panes detached themselves from their saddle bars and cames. Moments later, a blond haired silver eyed woman landed on the other side of the now empty frame.

"You have an unwelcome visitor." Isha said hurriedly.

'Aside from you?' Neoth deadpanned internally, but kept the thought to himself.

"I have no reports from my ships or soldiers." He said instead. "Who or what do you think has invaded my realm?" Isha may be unpredictable, but she was not one to bother him needlessly.

"Those who travel in the path of the Immolating Glee would leave little for your kind to see." She huffed. "Their numbers must be few, for only in their insignificance can they avoid both our future sight and present senses. All I know is that the taint of the Burning One passed through the places between places and it has not gone back. You-"

"Stop." Neoth interrupted, drawing an irritated glare from Isha. "I do not understand what you are saying, although I can see the urgency." The Aeldari goddess was visibly shaken; so much so that she spoke in a more Aeldari manner with inferences and titles he had no frame of reference for.

Neoth raised a hand, and the auramite frame of the empty stained glass window bent, opening a hole large enough for Isha to step through.

Isha closed her eyes and took a breath as she stepped into the Emperor's office.

"There are Necron here." She said in a strained but calmer tone. "They came through the Webway, and remain here on this planet. I do not know where they are exactly, but they are here."

A deep furrow carved itself into Neoth's brow.

"Are you sure?" He questioned. "I do not see anything with my future sight, and even the Chronomancy of the Necron cannot erase the effect of their actions on past, present, and future."

"I am." Isha replied with an exasperated sigh. "As I said, their numbers must be so few that they truly have no effect upon the grand scheme of things. Their sheer insignificance renders them no different to a rock on the side of a road to our precognition. However, they know that as well, and they have used that against my children many times." Isha's lips twisted into a feral snarl, then relaxed back into a more somber expression. "Even if we cannot catch them, we should investigate what they are doing here."

Neoth rose from his chair, stroking his chin in thought.

Assuming Isha was telling the truth, it was a paradoxical issue he was faced with. His realm had supposedly been invaded by a small force of Necron, but what they were doing and what they intended to do had no effect on his future. To rouse the entire might of the Imperium to find such a force would be both taxing, and detrimental. He was attempting to unify the remaining regions peacefully, and a massive mobilization would impede those efforts. Finding, destroying, and displaying the alien remains might allow him to explain some of his actions, but assembling his forces to search for the Necron would most likely cause the Xenos to go to ground or escape. That would be the worst case scenario, as it would waste his resources, and foment distrust amongst the other regions. The political nuisances within his Imperium would also exploit any failure of his to their perceived advantage. Replacing them was not difficult, but it would be time consuming and extra work that would have been unnecessary.

"Conventional means are off the table." Neoth said to Isha. "However, if no one knows about them, then there will be no witnesses to what I do."

Isha smiled at that. The God of Heroes had agreed to use his authority as a deity. Finding the Necron with the technologically inferior and psychically inept humanity would have been a time consuming and difficult task, but their god was a different matter.

Neoth stretched out his psychic senses, beginning to connect with every human on the planet. Depopulated as it was, a sizeable portion of the planet was still inhabited by humans. Simply seeing if anything strange had entered their field of view, or disturbed their senses would allow him to see where the Necron were. Even if he found nothing, it would tell him where they were not.

The search ended abruptly, however, as he tried to reach one of his Thunder Warriors. The man was not dead. As one of the Imperium's heroes, the man's soul would enter Neoth's realm upon death. However, their mind could not be reached. It was not shielded or occluded behind a psychic veil or wall, but simply gone.

'Stasis lock.' Neoth thought to himself as he recognized the effect of the Necron technology. Frozen in time, the Thunder Warrior could not be interacted with at all.

"I believe I have found our intruders." Neoth said as he drew upon the memories of the other Thunder Warriors in the missing man's Legiones. He waved a hand and a portal began to open before him, leading to the Thunder Warrior's last known location.

"Wait." Isha said suddenly. "If they are still there, do not attempt open conflict with them immediately."

Neoth turned, one eyebrow raised.

"They were your enemies." He stated, questioning the lack of hate and sudden restraint she was showing.

"They are still my enemies." Isha snorted. "Yet, it must be remembered that they are also the shatterers of the Yngir. Without their rebellion, the Star Gods would still be here instead of us. Besides, it will be easier to identify what they were here for by talking with them first. Even if they do nothing but lie, the truth will be in what they do not say."

"If that is the case, then would it not be better for you to remain here?" Neoth asked. "I doubt they would be comfortable in your presence."

"They have killed gods before. That fact will keep them confident enough to tolerate me." Isha said with a bitter chuckle " Besides, they know I am no threat at the moment. They have been waiting for the Fall of my children in their Great Sleep. No doubt they will wish to gloat before the very thing that once decimated their worlds and armies before they engage in any physical hostilities."

Neoth remembered all the other conversations he had with the living metal machines in the past. The ones who could still speak were indeed arrogant, possibly equal to the Aeldari in the patronizing and disdainful way they spoke to the 'younger' or 'lesser' races that came after the War in Heaven.

Yes… he could easily imagine them enjoying the opportunity to mock and belittle the Aeldari goddess before him.

"Are you sure they will react that way?" He asked, just in case. If it were him, he would not have bothered to exchange words with any alien that was lesser, greater, younger or older. That had already been demonstrated in his first meeting with Isha.

"My kind has fought them for millions of years." Isha shrugged. "We are well acquainted with each other's tricks and idiosyncrasies. Not to mention, the actual Necrons with the capacity for individual thought are greatly limited. So long as we have their name, role, and dynasty it should be possible to predict what their objectives are."

"If that is the case, advise me." Neoth said as he turned back to the portal and resumed opening it. "I have not had the luxury of spending millions of years studying them through combat."

"Not just combat." Isha laughed mirthlessly as she followed the Emperor. "We have even collaborated against common enemies in the past. Of course, every hand that was taken was accompanied by one with a blade hidden behind the back."

"That does not put my mind at ease." He grumbled as he turned towards the portal.

"Fear not, 'companion'." Isha said with a small smile. "As per our agreement on that once dead world, we are both bound to ensure the other fulfills their final purpose. We do not carry the blades behind our backs, but have them placed at each other's necks."

"Wonderful." Neoth huffed, and the two stepped through the portal.

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

The portal opened onto the border of a radioactive wasteland. Tall cliffs lay behind them, barely visible in the pitch black night of the new moon. However, the silty ground before them was well lit. Dark green and electric blue splotches of radium, uranium, plutonium and other radioactive isotopes covered the desert sands and occasional rocky outgrowths like the corpses of fluorescent jellyfish on the former seabed. It was a fantastical sight only as beautiful as it was deadly.

"The Atlan Wastes." Neoth said as he wrinkled his nose. "Uncountable rad-weapons and nuclear warheads clashed above here, shot out of the sky far away from the populated continents. The shattered munitions spread the remains of their unexploded payloads across this place." He let out a sigh, remembering the blinding light of the plasmic superstorm that filled the sky as inter-continental shells, missiles, and lasers were fired like bullets from a machine gun. Deafening sirens rang in every city, as the boom of cannons and roar of rocket engines echoed through the air.

"The Thunder Warrior in question was stationed here as a sentry." He said as he stepped into the green and blue lights.

"What was he watching out for, the wind?" Isha said, frowning as well. The irradiated ground stretched as far as the eye could see. Ordinary humans would begin to bleed from every orifice just standing near it. Unshielded machines would fry within seconds. Virtually nothing with Terra's current level of technology could pass through the Atlan Wastes.

"Smugglers have on occasion attempted to use the Atlan Wastes as a means to evade Imperial tariffs and taxes." Neoth replied as he continued walking. "Those with sufficient gear and personal shielding can find ways to pass through, but in doing so they carry both their contraband, and the heavily irradiated dust of this place into my domain. We will both have to clean ourselves once this is over."

"For you maybe." Isha said, and there was a small burst of wind around her as she created an insulating layer of atmosphere over her skin.

Neoth gave her an irritated side-ways look before turning forwards again.

The two continued onwards across the glowing ground, lit from below as if by blue-green neon lights.

"You said you could know the intentions of our uninvited visitors if you had their name, role, and dynasty." Neoth said as the two walked, scanning the horizons with their enhanced physical and metaphysical senses. "Can you infer who they might be through their actions here?"

"The number of Necron who would attempt something like this are few and far between." Isha replied as they began to climb the lip of a glowing crater. "Most would show little interest in the younger races such as yours, and even fewer would bother attempting to remain unnoticed."

"Then you have an idea as to who our intruder is."

"There are a few who might come here." Isha nodded as they crested the lip of the crater. "But there is only one who would bother stasis locking one of your soldiers." The Aeldari goddess's eyes narrowed as she spotted a small host of skeletal metal warriors in the middle of the crater. "There is only one who could stand before gods and daemons without fear of death, destruction, or imprisonment."

"Indeed." One of the skeletal machines replied. Metallic cloak brushing against the irradiated earth, the Necron's cowled head looked up at the two deities with neither fear nor despair. His green eyes glowed like the radioactive ground around them. Two meter Empathic Obliterator in hand, the Necron stabbed its base into the ground with every step like an ordinary walking stick. "Collector, archeovist of the Solemnace galleries, and humble appreciator of the galaxy and its cultures."

"Trazyn." Isha spat the name, as if she had just seen a disgusting insect.

"The Infinite." The Necron bowed mockingly as he added on his title. "What a fortuitous occasion. It is not so often that I meet a thing as old as I am."

"You speak as if you weren't expecting us." Isha snorted as she began to stride down the crater walls towards the archeovist and his host of lychguard.

"An archeologist does not dig blindly." Trazyn chuckled, free hand placed against the green hekatic rune carved into his chest. "And the Aeldari are not the only ones capable of seeing into the future."

"Isha." Neoth said, butting in between the two aliens. "Introduce me to this thief." His eyes flashed gold as they flicked to the Thunder Warrior stuck in stasis lock behind the host of lychguard.

He used the term to belittle the being before him; to break the flow of conversation and reestablish control over the narrative.

However, instead of looking insulted like all the other Necron Neoth had spoken to, Trazyn merely paused for a moment, then laughed.

Pure unadulterated amusement rang from the Necron's solid metal skull and its immovable jaw as the archeovist threw back his head; reacting as if Neoth had told the most amusing joke he had ever heard.

"Apologies." The archeovist said as he drew a metal finger under his eye, as if to brush away a tear from a now nonexistent lacrimal gland. "I just found it comical how you called me a thief after the grand larceny you and your kind have committed upon mine." He shook his head before looking up at the Emperor. "Last time I checked, it was not the Necron who dug through human tombs to find scraps of knowledge. It was not the Necron who stole a god from mankind." Trazyn turned towards Isha, shaking his head. "Humans. What a truly arrogant, yet entertaining race." He let out another chuckle, before turning towards the Emperor. "Have you started on the Aeldari as well?"

Neoth glowered at the metal alien before him, then turned his head to Isha, demanding an explanation.

"Trazyn the Infinite." Isha introduced the Necron again with a sigh. "Do not bother trying to destroy him. It will not work. My children and I have tried many times."

"Do not minimize the deeds of your children, Mother of the Aeldari." Trazyn snickered. "The attempts were still an inconvenience. I do not enjoy being dead. Yet, in this galaxy where even deities may die, I might be the closest thing to immortal."

"A doomed existence." Isha snorted. "An existence bound to forever crave what was taken from it. No content creature spends endless ages searching for things that remind them of what they once had."

"My kind freed itself from our gods, and survived." Trazyn tilted his head, mockingly towards the Aeldari goddess. "How did the Aeldari fare without you?"

There was a tense moment as Isha's jaw clenched. She crossed her arms, holding herself back. Trazyn stared back at her, green eyes glowing brighter than the uranium splotches around them.

"For one of the many who merely survived our onslaught, you do have a high opinion of yourselves."

Hate.

Despite the levity with which he spoke, the emotions Trazyn felt towards the Aeldari goddess bled from every word he used.

Both sides used sarcasm and irony like knives, jabbing into their opponent's greatest insecurities and pains; weaknesses that both had studied for eons in order to gain the upper hand.

However, each party knew the futility of fighting here. Killing Trazyn was meaningless, and harming Isha was impossible. At least, with the equipment the archeovist had brought with him today.

"He is a pilferer of the possessions of others." The goddess finally said, speaking to the Emperor instead of the Necron. "Quite frankly, thief is the title best given to him." A cruel smile drew across her lips as she narrowed her eyes at the archeovist of the Solemnace galleries. "What academic embellishes the historical displays of the very events they have witnessed, or is the infallible metal mind of the Necron no better than the so-called faulty organics of the living?"

Trazyn's head bobbed, mimicking the motion of snorting from his missing lungs.

"I would have thought that sensuous creatures such as yourselves would appreciate the importance of artistic license to such displays." He raised a knobbly metal hand, clenching it into a fist as he did so. "The purpose of a display is not to capture the moment of such events as they are, but the very feeling of them. So long as the piece embodies the very emotions of those that experienced those events, the particularities can be quite malleable."

The green glow of Trazyn's eyes seemed to flicker and grow, like the eldritch flames within the biotransference machines he had been thrown into millions of years ago; betraying the burning obsession that kept him sane.

"And so you have come to my realm to steal from me." Neoth said pointedly, glancing back at the stasis locked Thunder Warrior.

"My Crypteks predicted they would be in short supply very soon." Trazyn said as he unclenched his fist and shrugged. "The younger races are short lived. Your empires' lives are counted in mere millenia, and your cultures last for even less. Be thankful that there will be some evidence of your existence within my galleries. They will exist far longer than you will."

Neoth glared at the Necron, but at the same time he was already deep in conversation with the other alien behind him.

'What does he want?' He asked Isha telepathically, communicating so fast that the psychic message finished before he accused Trazyn of theft.

'He is buying time.' Isha replied back calmly as she glared at the Necron, giving no physical sign of the psychic back and forth. 'Advanced as they are, even the Necron cannot teleport away with this much radiation. His only hope to escape is to re-open a gate through the Webway. No doubt he has another host nearby with a shard of the Burning One. However, that will take time. These boasts and insults are meant to act as a replacement for the weapons he would wield on lesser interruptions. He cannot kill either of us, but he has no reason not to fight us either. Hence, this charade of mockery and grandstanding to give an excuse for standing around and talking for no particular reason. Of course, he is also stroking his own ego.'

'If he is buying time, should we attack?' Neoth asked.

'It is useless.' There was a telepathic signature of vexation coloring Isha's thoughts. 'The Necron are obsession incarnate, and this one is particularly tenacious. He will return, and each time he does he will do more damage in order to get what he wants; like a petulant toddler.'

'If you are telling me to give him what he wants, then know that I am not letting him take one of my warriors without a fight.' Neoth growled mentally.

'Patience.' Isha said as Trazyn began to talk of his Crypteks. 'There may be a way to make this work to our favor. The loss of one of your Thunder Warriors is an unavoidable event, unless you can barter for something of greater interest. However, there are ways to take something in return.'

'What do you propose?'

Information regarding Trazyn's behavioral quirks and proclivities flowed from Isha to Neoth before Trazyn finished his sentence. The means of snatching victory from defeat passed from her to him, bringing what would be the minor loss of a single warrior to a moderate stalemate.

'Will that work?' Neoth asked.

'You heard him yourself. He enjoys spectacles.' Isha replied with a mental snort. 'Give him one. Stroke his pride. Feed his amusement. It is all he has left in his accursed existence.' Isha's harsh mental tone softened slightly, even as her physical form glared daggers at the Necron before them. 'He is a machine. A very life-like and complex machine, but still just a machine. Even at the peak of his unpredictability, the only thing spurring him on are equations and algorithms straining to replicate what he once was. Given the proper input, he will always make the expected output. Use that. We did.'

The conversation ended as Trazyn finished his boast about his galleries.

"Is this your only business here?" Neoth asked, pretending as if he had neither heard Trazyn's boasts nor communicated with Isha.

"For the moment." Trazyn shrugged. "Your homeworld is not the most advanced remnant of your old empire. I merely stopped by to ensure some memento of this Unification War would remain." The Necron chuckled to himself, before staring off carelessly into the distance. "So many differences, yet so many similarities. We tried to unify our dynasties once, and sought the assistance of gods and god-like beings to do so. Although others of my kind may disagree, your struggle here is familiar enough to make me wax nostalgic."

"Then there is nothing left to say." Neoth replied. "I will stand by to watch how you leave to ensure you cannot come back the same way as before. Take your trinket and go."

"Mercy? From humanity? How curious…" The green lights in his eye sockets swiveled to the Aeldari goddess, then back to the Emperor. "If you are willing to let me leave, I would prefer it if I could be allowed to move out of this irradiated waste. It is not pleasant here, even for us."

"Did you not hear what I said?" The Emperor growled. "You will stay here, and I will watch you leave the same way you came here."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Nothing lost just by asking." Trazyn shrugged, then turned towards Isha. "Is this the result of something you have told him?"

"Why would you have to doubt me?" Isha snorted. "Humanity has expended millions of lives for almost nothing. Giving up a single unfinished soldier here means little. Of course, that's the only reason you could remain invisible from either of our foresights."

There was a subtle twitch from the Necron; a slight back and forth of a finger on his free hand, a slight tightening of the grip upon his Empathic Obliterator.

"Aeldari." Trazyn's voice crackled, betraying the seething emotions that could not be expressed on his immovable face. "Always using others to do what they cannot. If only you could use your gifts to save yourselves."

"Says the oghyr who begged for salvation twice." Isha shot back. "Now, make your choice. Go back to your galleries with your half-baked prize, or stay here and bargain for something you will have to fight for later."

Trazyn made a vulgar gesture towards Isha, the Sign of Vokk. In short, it was an obscene gesture wishing her a brutal and humiliating end in all timelines and dimensions.

The goddess merely smiled victoriously; fully aware his own obsessions would compel him to listen.

"You have my attention, human." Trazyn said as he turned back to the Emperor. "How do you intend to complete your brutes?"

"I am under no obligation to divulge my secrets to you." Neoth snorted. "If you wish for a demonstration of their capabilities, you will have to see them for yourself."

"And how am I supposed to find out for myself?" Trazyn retorted sarcastically. "Surely, you do not suggest something as boorish as dueling them? If this is going to be a serious bargain between us, know that I have other means of satisfying my curiosity. These Thunder Warriors of yours come in sets, do they not? The Legiones Cataegis, was it? If I cannot have a prime specimen, I will have to satisfy myself by assembling a wide range of samples for my galleries."

"And with what will you capture them with?" The Emperor said, raising a mocking eyebrow. "It will not be as easy as this time."

"I do have far more than these few hosts at my beck and call." Trazyn's voice crackled.

"And how will you explain such a mass awakening so ahead of schedule to your Awakened Council?" Isha laughed. "They may tolerate you, but you are not entirely free to do as you wish, 'Overlord'."

Trazyn glowered at the Aeldari goddess. She had pointed out his rank within the Necron hierarchy. He was high enough within the Royal Court of the Nihilakh dynasty to be given many leniencies, but not powerful enough to outright ignore his kin. He could irritate or even start a vendetta with one or two dynasties, but that was only allowed so long as the Phaeron of the Nihilakh dynasty and the Awakened Council did not intervene.

"It would not matter either way." The Emperor continued Isha's attack. "Even if you did manage to capture an entire Legiones, you will not do so unharmed. I will see to that. Then, I will have something more valuable than several Legiones Cataegis. The remains of your soldiers." A grim smile crossed the Emperor's face. "Their necrodermis bodies will be paraded through the streets, and their faces plastered upon propaganda pamphlets and holograms as the alien threat to humanity. What better fuel to stoke the flames to forge my Imperium? Humanity will be bound together by fear and hate of the Necron invaders. You will be doing my work for me."

Trazyn's eyes sparked, sending forks of green lightning out of his eye sockets.

It was useless to attempt to bluff by bringing up the phasing technology built into every Necron. No doubt the Aeldari had already told the Emperor the limits associated with Necron teleportation. It was also true that he would incur losses should he be forced to take more violent means to capture the Thunder Warriors. He only captured this one by locking it in stasis from under a Veil of Darkness. To do so in a more populated region would be impossible, and that didn't even begin to take into account the difficulty of returning to this planet without using the Webway.

"Be honored, Trazyn. You will take the place the Old Ones did in your first empire. Trazyn, the unifier of humanity." The Aeldari goddess laughed again, digging a verbal knife into what remained of Trazyn's pride. "I am sure your Awakened Council will be very amused, should they become enlightened to your actions here."

There was a brief pause as Trazyn glared at the god and goddess before him. To be reminded of how the Necrontyr started the War in Heaven was a grave enough insult to make his Empathic Obliterator spark. The Silent King had rallied the scattered factions of the Nectontyr against the Old Ones, using them as a scapegoat for all their woes. To be likened to the Old Ones… To suggest that the Necron take the place of one of their most hated enemies in humanity's history was both an insult and humiliation both for himself, and his kind. He would be the laughing stock of all Necron, as well as an embarrassment big enough to create a concerted force to erase him from existence.

Trazyn would survive whatever assault they might assemble. He had enough contingencies to be confident of that. Still… losing his standing in the Nihilakh dynasty would cause him to abandon much of his collection, and stymie his future archeological endeavors.

After a moment of silence, Trazyn corrected his posture and brushed some radioactive dust off his shoulder. He had lost this particular verbal skirmish. The Aeldari goddess knew too much about his kind, and their culture. If this was one of her younger children, he could have danced circles around them in their ignorance, or simply wiped them from memory with his Empathic Obliterator. However, that also meant she knew exactly where his red lines were. He would get his prize in the end. It was only a matter of how much he would have to pay for it.

"What do you want?" He said, pretending as if none of the insults and jibes had occurred at all. Giving either of these immaterial creatures the satisfaction of annoying him further would only rub dirt into the wounds upon his pride.

"Leave my planet, and never return. That includes any lackeys or Canoptek constructs you may possess." The Emperor ordered. "I will send you one of my Thunder Warriors to find you when the time is right. They will display their full strength then."

Trazyn shrugged. "I will abide by those rules, but I cannot do anything if another dynasty sets you in their sights."

The green lights in his eye sockets drifted over to the Aeldari goddess.

The double speak in his words was clear to her. Should the Emperor fail to uphold his side of the bargain, Trazyn would find other means to inconvenience the two deities here. Awakening one of the more xenophobic and aggressive dynasties ahead of schedule would endanger both humanity and the Aeldari. Doing so would indebt Trazyn to whatever dynasty he used, but the veiled threat served as a reminder that this Necron had his own means of making things worse for all of them if the bargain was broken.

"You will have your prize." Isha replied. "As well as a spectacle that should meet your satisfaction."

"Then we are in agreement." Trazyn opened his left palm skyward, and a crackling hekatic rune appeared for an instant before dissipating into streams of eldritch electricity that ran up his arm and across his necrodermis body.

Isha whispered something into the air, and a curved Wraithbone rune formed before her. Its pearly white lines then untangled themselves, before wrapping around her wrist like a school of glass eels.

Neoth sat back, watching the two elder creatures make their own binding agreements. He had no equivalent gesture or symbol to bind himself, nor ensure the value of his word. There hadn't been much point, since his outlook had not allowed the idea of forming an alliance with Xenos in general.

'I wonder if this makes Isha my guarantor…' He thought to himself, grimacing internally at the thought. Although there was no physical agreement or enforcement for it, having Isha make the binding agreement with Trazyn on his behalf meant he was technically indebted to the Aeldari regarding this 'bargain' with the Necron.

As he was weighing his options of whether it would be worth making his own binding symbol or continue to let the Aeldari goddess cover for him, the ground around him began to spark. Radioactive isotopes began to spontaneously break down, releasing heat and light in flashes of blue, green, and orange.

"And not a moment too soon." Trazyn sighed, then gestured behind him. The stasis locked Thunder Warrior was dropped by his Lychguard; still frozen in time and immune to the radiation, but released by his captors. "I look forward to the day the only thing to remind me of you are the artifacts of your children." He said snidely to the Aeldari.

Isha made no reply. Instead, she sent a psychic message to the Emperor in private.

'Watch.' She said simply.

The sparks around them began to increase in number, concentrated around a single point behind the Necron and decreasing in intensity and frequency with distance.

In the inky sky, a deeper blackness opened up.

'The Webway…' Neoth thought as he stared up into the pit that had opened up above the Necron.

Instead of the endlessly shifting collage of capillaries and tunnels that would usually appear when the Webway opened, there was nothing. An empty pit had opened up with no sides nor rim.

It was the end of everything.

It was a maddening meaningless nihilism that negated all meaning, all definition.

'Now you know why we called it the Breath of the Infinite Pit.' Isha's telepathic voice was soft as she too stared up into the hole in the sky.

Neoth didn't answer. Looking at the hole filled him with a sense of loss, as if he was watching the destruction of the original human empire all over again.

That was what the Burning One was. Utter and complete entropy. The breaking down of all things into their least organized form. The reduction of reality till even space and time had no meaning.

It was a different feeling to what Neoth had experienced with the Void Dragon.

Different, but not as powerful.

One by one the Necron floated upwards, like puppets pulled off the stage by their strings. The void seemed to swallow them as they passed through, like dust caught in the uptake of air from some giant beast's nostril.

Trazyn was the last to be pulled upwards, arms aloft he looked down at the two deities as he ascended towards the breach in the Webway.

Suddenly the Necron's body jerked, and flipped upside down. His head remained fixed where it was, neck straining as green sparks began to escape from the tearing necrodermis.

"Of course." The Necron muttered, as his body went limp, artificial nerves snapping as Isha and the hole in the Webway pulled on them like a rope in a tug of war. "I was wondering why you were as reticent as you were. Foolish of me to believe that something as significant as the Fall of your entire race could temper your pride."

"Your insults stung, Necron." Isha snarled as she stepped forwards. "But be thankful. I'll let you keep the remains of that body for a new display. How does the title 'Reminder of a Reunion' sound?"

A choppy laugh came from Trazyn's head.

"Indeed." His voice sounded more robotic, tone flipping between monotone and melodious. "Till we meet again, Mother of the Aeldari."

There was one final shower of green sparks, and the last strands of necrodermis snapped like strings. The ruined body fell upwards into the darkness, and the head floated towards Isha before coming to a stop before her.

The hole in the air closed, removing all trace of the Necron, bar the single Thunder Warrior stuck in stasis lock. Neoth stared up at where the hole had been, feeling the morose feeling of loss slowly abate as the 'burnt' section of Webway faded away from them with the Necron.

"What was that?" He finally asked Isha.

The goddess was currently rotating Trazyn's head in front of her telekinetically; inspecting it as if it were an apple with possible worms in it.

"Retribution, and a gift for two." She replied cryptically, as she stopped rotating the head and narrowed her eyes. "Trazyn will no doubt frame the body as a reminder of his immortality and impunity in his galleries. This, however, is for you."

Green sparks erupted from the skull as pieces of gray metal covered with countless hekatic runes were torn out of the mechanical skull and pulverized into dust. The violent disassembly continued for a few seconds until all that was left of the head was a cylindrical device with thin metallic threads wrapping around it like a spool of yarn.

"That is Trazyn's brain." Isha said as she tossed it telekinetically towards Neoth. "I've torn out the hekatic engrams required for it to phase back to a Necron stronghold, so you can take it out of this irradiated wasteland. Trazyn himself is no longer inside it, but that component should help you with the soul transfer machine."

"Is that so?" Neoth said as he caught the metal organ with his own telekinetic abilities. "And how exactly will it help me?"

"His ability to reincarnate is based on my children's." Isha said with a grimace. "He does not have a soul to transfer, but the method of transmitting data and preserving personality was found from within the bodies and brains of the Aeldari. Biomimesis, but this time on the Necron's side."

"If the Necron uncovered that much, why is it not more widespread amongst them?" Neoth asked as he turned the Necron brain over. Its structure reminded him of the quantum computers humanity once built, although far more miniature in design.

"How many Necron do you see with an obsession like Trazyn's?" Isha snorted. "But if you want me to spell out the answer for you, it's because the methodology only works for him. More specifically, it would work on Necron with similar personalities and interests. Thankfully, the Necron with the hardware necessary to simulate emotions are few and far between. Only the upper class received bodies and brains that could keep their memories and personality. Those Overlords, Phaerons, kings, and nobles as a whole tended to be less empathetic than most. One must be able to relate to a work of art to appreciate it, and that requires a strong sense of empathy. Trazyn's ability to understand the feelings of others is what makes him unique amongst his race. Although, if such traits were more widespread, the oghyr war may never have started to begin with. Even then, he tends to use his capacity for empathy only to enjoy his collection, and as the occasional weapon to outwit his opponents."

"How does that relate to the soul transfer process?" Neoth said as he peered into the Necron brain with his Warp sight before determining it safe enough to store in his personal pocket dimension.

"Remember how I said that the soul transfer required both psychic energy, and the information within it?" Isha asked. "That was an oversimplification."

"How so?"

"The only way to answer that question is with another series of questions." Isha gave a wan smile. "If you were reborn into a new body with all your memories, would that be you?"

"If a person is the sum of their experiences, then that would be true." Neoth answered automatically. The entire premise of reincarnation depended on that fact.

"Then, if you lost all of your previous memories in the same body, would you no longer be yourself?"

"That's…" Neoth paused for a moment. It was just the inverse of the first statement, but he could not answer it as easily as the first.

"We believe the former to be true, but have difficulty agreeing with the latter. That means that at an instinctual level, we believe ourselves to be more than the sum of our experiences." Isha grimaced, as if something bitter had popped in her mouth before continuing. "Trazyn's ability to recreate himself is the answer to that question. Even in this place, where the radiation is so intense Necron phasing technology doesn't function, the information that is required to 'remake' Trazyn can find a new body. His obsession with art, culture, and trinkets is what identifies him as an individual. You could even say the Solemnace galleries are a physical memory storage facility that serves to reinforce who he is with an external representation of his internal self. Of course, it also serves to stroke his own ego, but even that vain act helps keep him who he is." She finished with a snort.

"Then the remains of the transfer protocol in his brain will act as a reference for how to parse out the souls of those transferred?" Neoth asked.

"It will serve as a guidepost." Isha nodded. "A person can lose all their memories, but still have attachments and interests. So long as the driving force that formed their personality remains, they can rebuild who they are an innumerable number of times."

"So, obsession is the key to reincarnation?" Neoth snorted. "I find that hard to believe. "

"The Shamans that made you reincarnated several times." Isha said with a raised eyebrow. "What were their last thoughts every time they died?"

Neoth paused for a moment, then grimaced as he replied.

"There was a duty that needed to be fulfilled."

"Duty… Another name for something that cannot be let go, or given up." Isha chuckled as the Emperor fixed her with a sour look. "Living is difficult." She said sadly. "Being reborn into this world, while knowing just how cruel it can be, takes a great degree of will. It's not just enough to be afraid of death, or non-existence. There must be a drive to do something. Trazyn will not let his collection remain incomplete, or unfinished. Although, whatever those words mean to him is anyone's guess." A sigh escaped her lips as she stared up at where the hole in the Webway was. "Regardless, it is why he comes back no matter how many times he is killed. No matter how painful it is to exist in a body that can no longer feel the warmth of its own skin, or the relief that comes with a breath of fresh air, he returns to add to the Solemnace galleries."

Her voice carried none of the ire or cynicism it had while she was talking to Trazyn. Instead there was a somber tone within her words.

"Do you pity the Necron?" Neoth asked as he watched the goddess.

Isha shook her head.

"I mourn the Necrontyr and their foolishness." She said softly. "The oghyr are the scar they left behind."

A scar. The remains of a wound; painful to look at and best removed.

Those were Isha's feelings regarding the Necron.

"Besides…" She let out an exasperated sigh. "That particular oghyr has given me more than enough reason to destroy him."

"Destroy, but not kill?" Neoth asked with a raised eyebrow.

A cold smile spread across Isha's lips, like frost across a window.

"One death is not enough for Trazyn the Infinite."

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

FAQ:

What did Trazyn mean by "And the Aeldari are not the only ones capable of seeing into the future."?
This is a double reference.

Firstly, it refers to the base Chronomancy all Necron dynasties have access to.

Secondly, it refers to the head of the Yyth Seer that only the Nihilakh dynasty has.

In short, Trazyn is boasting about how the Necron are equal, if not superior in their ability to predict the future when compared to the Aeldari, and he is also gloating about how Isha has no idea that the Nihilakh dynasty has access to the remains of one of the more powerful precognitive species spawned during the War in Heaven.

The Yyth Seer's head is possessed by the Nihilakh dynasty, and it has been used to predict the future in tandem with their Chronomancy. This gives the Nihilakh dynasty several advantages when it comes to planning ahead.

What is the Awakened Council?
It is a very basic government formed by the Necron who awakened ahead of schedule during the Great Sleep. Its primary function is to ensure no further mass awakenings occur, and also to prevent political rivals from destroying their sleeping opponents. Trazyn mentions them several times during "The Infinite and Divine", and even uses them to set Orikhan up.

Lexicanum states this council was formed in M31, but I could not find any actual in text references as to when it was formed. As Trazyn canonically has a Thunder Warrior locked in stasis, I am assuming both he and the Awakened Council have existed during M30.

Isha knows of them as the Awakened Council has been active for much longer than that in this story, and has had several run-ins with the Aeldari before the Fall.

Why is Trazyn's reincarnation mechanic important for the soul transfer machine?
This is a reference to when Trazyn meets Fabius Bile. Bile has a spike of Wraithbone implanted in clone bodies of his, which allows him to transfer himself into a new body should he die. Bile's reincarnation technique was developed by using the Aeldari Infinity Circuit and biology as a reference. Trazyn recognizes the source of Bile's reincarnation technique, and boasts to Bile that he has something similar, but vastly superior. I have interpreted this as Trazyn having already investigated how Aeldari reincarnation works, and that is the reason he alone has the ability to reincarnate into the bodies of other Necron.

Why were there so many sparks when Nyadra'zatha's shard opened the Webway?
The Burning One is entropy incarnate. It functions to end everything around it at a subatomic level. This takes the form of fire and radioactive decay. Fire is the must understandable way to increase entropy at a chemical level. The radioactive isotopes, on the other hand, are decaying away into more disorganized forms of matter, splitting apart into smaller and smaller atoms.

As the Webway is a place where time is very malleable, Nyadra'zatha's presence shows reality at its end state, which is the utter void seen by Isha and the Emperor. As it is 'nothing', distance and time have no meaning. Hence, traveling through this 'nothing' is instantaneous as the act of traveling through it never happened. Of course, without a means to exit the 'nothing', one will remain trapped in it forever until they exit. Hence, the necessity for either a rift made by a shard of Nyadra'zatha, or a Dolmen Gate.

Isha and the Emperor feel this end state in a synesthetic manner, and that is why emotions of loss are evoked as they are seeing the inevitable death of reality itself.

 

[Nidhog153]

A/N : Apologies for the long wait. IRL has been difficult for me.

---

Neoth sat back in the heated pool of one of the bathhouses within the Sanctum Imperialis, with an appropriately sized towel wrapped around his waist. The only sound around him was of the drip of moisture and rippling of water displaced by his movements.

He had these facilities built in order to create a place for the higher ups of the Imperium to mingle. It was a custom often found in the asiatic regions of Terra, but similar practices had also existed in the mediterranean regions as well. Even the more northern reaches of the planet had invented saunas in ancient times.

There were several types of these semi-political and luxury centers within the Imperial Palace; places where unofficial deals could be made, or private information could be shared. The physical comfort and warmth of these places also relaxed the mind and tongue, greasing the wheels of difficult political discussions, or serving as an entry point to a person's darkest secrets.

However, tonight he was the only person using this facility, lying back in one of the heated pools meant for a few dozen.

The meeting with the Necron, and discussion with Isha had been vexing in many ways. He had also used his authority as a god, affecting his mood and personality. Experiencing things in a more human manner often helped him balance out those moments when he had to rely on his divine nature, allowing him to shut out all the voices of humanity on this planet and beyond.

As he lay back with his eyes closed, the sound of soft splashing interrupted his reprieve.

"Hmm… The design isn't bad. Even though our species are different, the act of enjoying cleansing one's body has a commonality between us. Of course, that is if one ignores the gaudiness of the gold everywhere."

Neoth opened his eyes and gave a tired look to his side, where the Aeldari goddess was looking around the bathhouse with a slight frown. Her silken shift was replaced with a long towel that wrapped around her, covering her body up to her knees. Her golden hair was tied with a white Wraithbone ribbon in a high ponytail, keeping it barely off the floor.

"Wouldn't there be a problem if the maternal goddess of the proud and arrogant Aeldari bathed with a human male?" He remarked sarcastically as he propped himself up by his elbows on the pool's edge.

"In old Japan, they had a practice of sharing hot springs with the native primates. It's the same as that." Isha said with a shrug.

Neoth bit back a sigh, deciding to ignore the comparison. It was probably not even meant to be an insult; just a simple reminder that the two of them were different species, and hence didn't perceive the other in that manner. Well, Isha and the Aeldari didn't, at least. Humanity had a wider tolerance in that regard.

"What do you want?" He said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "As you can see, I've reserved this place for myself to get away from the various troubles I've had to deal with today."

He had even placed a psychic suggestion on the ornate double door, so ordinary people wouldn't be able to remember that there was such a facility here at all. Even the servants who would have been standing by the entrance at all times were thoroughly convinced that their usual stations were elsewhere.

"You know as well as I do that all diplomacy and politics has a public face and a private face." Isha said as she stepped into the opposite side of the same bath as the Emperor. "That discussion with the oghyr was the public side, and this is the follow-up on the private side."

"Public, was it?" Neoth snorted. "Was there anything public about that talk in those wastes?"

It was probably the furthest they could have been from the public eye on Terra.

"Well, I suppose public is not the exact way to put it." Isha said as she sat down on the pool's edge, soaking her feet in the warm water. "However, there were things you couldn't ask me at that time. So, I've decided to come by and be available to you." She kicked the water lightly, playing with it a little. "The things that bother you, the things that interest you, I shall answer up to four of them tonight."

"That is quite magnanimous of you." Neoth narrowed his eyes. "What do you want in return?"

Information was one of the more important things Isha could give. 60 million years of experience was not something to hand out lightly, even if he was limited to four questions.

"As you have seen tonight, I know far more about the places between places." Isha said, as she slipped off the edge and dipped into the water until it was up to her shoulders. "If you do intend to use my kind's inheritance, the Webway, I want you to allow me to join you as an advisor like this time."

Neoth let out a snort.

"Is it not slightly premature for that promise to be made?" He said sarcastically. "I haven't even begun to prepare the site for its construction."

The Golden Throne was still buried under the desert sands of the Asiatic plate, and the lowest levels of the Sanctum Imperialis were not yet ready. After all, there were centuries worth of civilization buried under it. Dark catacombs and tunnels from ancient times burrowed far beneath the underground reactors, water processors, and waste purifiers that supported all life within the Imperial Palace.

"I have no problem with the payment being postponed." She said with a cheeky smile. "Still, to point that out is quite forthcoming for you. Is there something on your mind?"

"I don't enjoy the feeling of being indebted to anyone." He replied as he swept his long black hair back with one hand.

"That is true…" Isha mused with a finger on her bottom lip. "Until now you've either ignored or obliterated your debtors."

"There haven't been many agreements worth honoring." Neoth said with a derisive sniff. "That is all."

"Oh? Then tell me, how will you show that you will keep your promise with me?" Isha raised her left arm, showing the glassy bracelet formed by the rune she had used to symbolize the binding agreement with Trazyn.

Neoth paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I'll take what can be given, and listen to what you have to say."

Coming up with some sort of binding symbolism in the bath didn't feel appropriate, not to mention he still had no idea what to use. Besides, the situation wasn't that serious.

"That is agreeable with me." Isha shrugged, sending ripples through the water. "In the end, all I offer are words, so any agreement or compensation towards me can be made by the mouth as well."

Neoth snorted. In short, even if he did renege on his promise to include her in his plans to prepare the Golden Throne, she would give him her unrequested advice anyways. After all, the only thing she would do was talk.

"Then tell me how the Necron knew you would be here."

Trazyn had been expecting them. However, the fact that Isha was here was a secret between the two of them. How the Xeno knew she would be here was concerning to him. Part of the reason Isha came with him was because the Four would not be able to know where she was; hidden by his immaterial hating presence. If the Ruinous Powers could replicate Trazyn's methods, Terra could become the hotbed for a Chaos incursion.

"The Necron can see the future exactly as how it will be when they look at it. Of course, all that means is that they can have a perfect vision of one possible path of fate. However, if they repeat that process enough, they can get a relatively concrete picture of what will always happen amongst those routes. They must have found me that way."

Neoth nodded to himself. He had suspected that might be how they had done it, but he had to be sure. Necron technology was at times almost indistinguishable from the magics of the Warp.

"Can the Ruinous Powers replicate that feat?" Neoth asked.

If there was overlap between the two, it would present a weakness in his wards that the Four could exploit.

"No." Isha shook her head, and the water rippled as her hair stirred the bath like a whisk in a bowl of thin cream. "Necron precognition works by looking through time itself. It is brought about purely through an understanding of the material universe. No matter how close to magic it may appear, the Necron's methods are fundamentally different to ours. The Four cannot see what happens here through your Wards. Only their followers will provide them that information, and even those voices will be but a few hundred amongst trillions across the galaxy. Their own bloat will blind them." An arrogant mocking smile crossed her lips as she stared off into the distance.

Neoth followed her gaze, and saw nothing at first until he realized that she was staring in the direction of the Eye of Terror.

"Could the Necron betray us to them?" He continued with his next worry. The Necron obviously hated Isha, and her children. However, from his previous encounters with them, their stance towards Chaos seemed to be equally hostile. Until now he hadn't really cared to compare how their hate measured against each other, but now that he was working with one of them it was worth confirming.

"The Necron will not share what they know with the Four, much less any of the creatures of the Warp." A cynical smile crossed Isha's face. "They hate the Four as much as they hate me, but more importantly, they do not respect them."

"Respect?" The Emperor asked the single word question with equal parts cynicism and irony. Trazyn took every opportunity to insult and belittle Isha he could take. Respect was not an emotion he believed that Xeno was capable of feeling, or any other Necron for that matter. Of course, the same could be said for the Aeldari.

"Chaos is not a sentient being to them." Isha shrugged. "The immaterium is just another resource in the eyes of the Necron, like metal or promethium. It is theirs to exploit, and its denizens are just vermin that complicate its harvesting. Would you, out of spite, try to get a worm to inflict your revenge? No. The best you can do is throw it at your enemy, like an infantile child. To use the Ruinous Powers would be akin to that. They are unpredictable, untrustworthy, and unworthy to the point that interacting with them is beneath them."

"I see." Neoth nodded. "This has been insightful."

"I am glad to have satisfied your curiosity, but it is not the end." Isha sat back, and the hair that had dripped into the water spread out in front of her, following the water pushed out of the way. Long golden strands seem to stretch out from her, like the roots of a rosemary grown in water. "You still have three more questions."

Neoth raised an eyebrow at that. "I asked four questions."

Including the one regarding respect, by his count he had asked four.

"I am not a genie in a bottle." Isha chuckled. "I will not count one string of inquiry as multiple questions. Besides, the last one was barely worth noting. It would leave a bad taste in both of our mouths if that was all I gave for interrupting your time of respite."

Neoth narrowed his eyes. The goddess before him had not said she would answer four questions, but answer up to four things. He had assumed it meant questions, but apparently the Xeno in front of him was offering to answer entire topics he was curious about. It was a magnanimous gesture. One given from someone who sounded like they held all the cards.

"Do you plan to guilt me into letting you help me?" His voice was calm, with the barerest undertones of a growl. He had already told her he did not enjoy being indebted to anyone, yet she continued to offer things he had not asked for.

"Do not worry." Isha snorted. "I know you are capable of breaking any bargain between us. However, what do you have to lose by listening to me?"

"My time and patience." He grumbled back as he sank into the warm water, leaving only his head exposed.

"Ah…" Isha tapped her chin with a finger, making a thoughtful expression before sighing. "You have my apologies then. Those two resources are quite scarce."

Neoth whipped his arm out of the water, sending a large wave towards Isha on the opposite end of the pool. She flicked a finger in return, and a wave of water of her own rose. The two waves merged silently, canceling each other out.

"If you are feeling so generous…" Neoth growled, sitting up right in the pool, sending rivulets of water cascading down his pectoral muscles like waterfalls flowing down cliffs. "Then you will not mind if I ask more personal questions?"

"I promised to answer four things that bothered you, or interested you." Isha said with a smile, even as her brow furrowed.

The Emperor intended to challenge her; to ask her a question she would not wish to answer. She could understand it. Her presence and offers here unnerved and irritated him. However, he was not so unreasonable as to resort to violence or command her to leave. Hence, he would ask her something private, personal, and painful.

"A goddess does not go back on her word." She said resolutely.

If she backed down here, her friendly gesture would only go that far. If she wanted to intrude upon his most important works, she would have to be prepared to share things equally personal.

"Tell me of your consort, Kurnous." Neoth asked grimly.

Neither deity spoke for a moment. Only the drip of moisture and the slight rippling of the pool's water could be heard.

"I seem to have struck a nerve." Isha said slowly; strained smile twitching as her silver eyes narrowed.

To prod at the open wounds left by the loss of her family was a low blow; an attempt to anger her to the point she would leave the room. However, it was she who came to him to talk, and she could not back down now. If she left, he would not have to worry about denying her later, nor would he feel indebted to her. This would have all been for nought, and a waste of both of their time.

"Spare me your outrage." The Emperor snorted. "You took all of the information within me above that once dead world. You know everything I know about the relationships I've had, the men and women I've bedded, the losses I endured. From you, all I've managed to decode are your basic functions and the associated legends. This will bring us slightly closer to even."

The two of them were on uneven ground at the moment in that regard. She knew more of him than he did of her. Sharing some of her personal matters would even that balance.

Isha turned her head to the side, staring at one of the ornate golden walls and its decorative pillars adorned with birds of prey mid-flight.

The Emperor had her in a chess fork. Whether she stormed out of here or spoke to him, he would be able to negate an advantage she had against him.

However, she had come here, aware of that possibility.

This was not something she wanted to talk about. Yet, if it built some sense of rapport… Perhaps even nurture a slight feeling of sympathy within the Emperor, it would be worth it.

Nevertheless, she could not stop herself from becoming particularly venomous about the topic.

"What do you wish to know?" Isha said, voice bitter and mocking. "The tawdry details of the nuptial chambers within our Pantheon?"

"What was he like?" Neoth asked calmly.

Isha knew what his relationship with Erda, Malcador, and everyone of his Custodes was like. Learning of her bond with Kurnous would reveal both her strengths and weaknesses, much like his relationship with Erda betrayed many of his.

"He was the teacher and student of my children." Isha said slowly. Her voice was calm, but slightly subdued. "He taught the Aeldari how to hunt the Necron, while learning from their trials and tribulations." A bitter smile crossed her face. "He was far from a perfect god. Whenever one of his tactics or strategies failed, many of my children paid the price." She let out a sad sigh before continuing. "His shrine used to have plaques with all their names and deeds. 'The hunters of yore stand as the teachers of tomorrow.' I liked the line that was inscribed at the very bottom of each plaque."

Neoth remained silent, listening to her description. Kurnous was apparently quite a modest god. To put his words below the names of all those that had died due to his mistakes or failures while elevating them showed a deep respect for Isha's children.

Gods usually stood above mortals, and their failures were usually the failures of their followers. Kurnous, however, took the opposite stance.

"Tools and technology were Vaul's domain. War and glory were Khaine's. Kurnous's domain was the teaching and learning of how to survive." Isha continued. "He was neither the strongest, nor the smartest god. He was not the craftiest either. That title belongs to the Laughing God. The one thing he had over all others was his persistence." A sad smile crossed her lips as she spoke, then it faded away as she turned back to the Emperor. "I suppose that is something our species share. Your first hunters caught their game by outlasting them, didn't they?"

"In the ancient past, under the blazing sun." Neoth nodded. "We chased our prey until it collapsed from heat stroke or exhaustion. It is much easier to kill a beast several times your size when it cannot move."

"Kurnous never tried to devise a tactic that would outlast our opponents." Isha shrugged, sending our ripples as her pearly white shoulders bobbed in the pool's water. "The Necron could not be outlived or attrited away. They and their masters were truly endless." She put a finger to her chin in thought, thin smooth neck tilting slightly. "However, in the sense that he refused to give up, he was similar to your kind."

"Did you love him?" Neoth asked.

The question was meant to unsettle her; test her patience and limits. She often did the same to him whenever they spoke, so it was hardly unfair. Besides, Isha knew who he loved, and who he hated. The current state of affairs was what was truly unfair.

However, Isha showed no sign of irritation or hostility. Instead, she looked down into the pool's water, staring blankly past its surface as she retreated into memory.

"My love is reserved for my children." She said tiredly. "Besides, you know how I was created. The Aeldari were conceived in many ways, many of them violent."

The warm water of the pool seemed to chill, darkening with Isha's mood till they matched the color of a stormy sea.

"We were bred to be how we are." Isha said bitterly.

Neoth winced as another part of the information he had received from Isha decoded itself.

'Like chattel…' He thought, adding on to Isha's words.

"You have seen my first legend. The legend of when I shed my first tear for Eldanesh." Isha said vacantly. "I was… different back then."

Neoth winced again as he saw what she meant.

"For a long time, all I did was sit on my throne; sending my tears to my children as their deaths filled my heart with grief."

The golden haired silver eyed goddess sat on her arboreal throne, like a doll.

Blood red tears fell from her cheeks, disappearing into the materium and rippling reality like the surface of a calm lake. The dying cries of her children filled her ears, and their suffering was swallowed by her heart as the Goddess of Life did what she was made to do.

Live.

That was all she did, like a patient on life-support.

She was the mother of a race meant to die instead of their masters, and they were losing.

The Old Ones fortresses fell, both in the materium and immaterium as the C'tan breached the Webway. The defender's psychic blows tore into constantly shifting creatures of such size that they made humanity's most ancient Titans look like toys.

Swarms of scarabs scoured entire worlds. Necron battleships surrounded gargantuan structures that repurposed entire stars as weapons. These black and eldritch green ships surrounded these constructs like schools of fish around a colossal whale.

Blackholes and time travel were wielded as weapons in battles that spanned solar systems and dimensions. Avenues of fate were used to flank the enemy, and entire chains of events ceased to exist as the individuals inside them disappeared before they were born.

"As I sat there, I noticed a man on one of my worlds." Isha continued, bringing Neoth back to the bath house. "He was practicing how to move in the desert sands of one of my children's worlds; learning how to hide one's tracks and disappear under it in an instant, like a desert lizard avoiding the sun."

Neoth saw what she described.

Billions of worlds were connected to Isha's throne. Each one of them was a biome her children occupied. On one desert planet, there was a dark haired man with long ears wielding a familiar wooden spear. He danced across the sands, hardening it under his feet with his psychic gifts so he could kick off of it with full force. Then, in the next instant, the grains swirled under his command, burying him in an instant only to shoot him out at a different location. Ghostly forms of Necron warriors emerged before him, and he tested his techniques and movements against them. The soft sands swallowed their steel toes, causing them to stumble as they attempted to stride through the deserts. Gauss lightning flashed, and was interrupted as a cloud of sand was kicked up by a telekinetic blast.

Particulate storms summoned by his psychic powers surrounded phalanxes of Necron Warriors, blinding their eyes and sensors as the man picked at their outskirts. Like a panther in a jungle, he hid within the storm, preying on the stragglers who stumbled or fell out of position. One by one, the Necrons fell, dismembered to the point their hekatic engrams could no longer recover even a single shard of Necrodermis.

Yet, he was not always successful. A single step too close, a single strike too slow, and Gauss Lightning would tear him apart. Every time he died, the ghostly forms of the Necron would fade, and only the dark haired man would remain with his wooden spear in hand.

"He was not inherently gifted in battle, unlike my father." Isha said softly. "He would trip and fall like a mortal, even in the immaterium where such things did not have to happen."

Neoth watched the dark haired god fight. He used only the physical and psychic strength of the average Aeldari. The rest of his power was dedicated to the recreation of their enemies.

"He practiced endlessly until he was satisfied." The goddess said. "Then, with a single nod to himself he would disappear from my worlds and reappear in the materium. There, he would teach my children the new ways he found to hunt the Necron."

Neoth returned from the memory, and was once again sat across from the golden haired goddess at the opposite end of the pool.

"I watched him every day from my throne." Isha said. "At first, I thought nothing of it. He was just another part of the weapon that was the Aeldari. As their mother, I knew that better than anyone else. But…"

Neoth watched Isha's brow furrow in the scenes from her memory.

The man who used her worlds as his training ground annoyed her.

He came up with many ideas to deal with the Necron, but not all of them worked. Every time he failed, her children paid the price.

At the moment, he was trying to weaponise the ferocious forms of flora that existed on a verdant world. Vines as strong as steel and that moved like snakes swayed under his biomantic commands while roots that could rip through solid rock swam underground to emerge as puncturing spikes from below. However, he was still struggling with the execution. More than once the plants had disobeyed his orders, either refusing to move or intentionally wilting in order to hide underground as tubers, seeds, or spores.

'Foolish…' Isha thought to herself. The god before her would fail again, and her children would die as a result. He sought to find some solution to survive the oghyr's onslaught, even though the answer was right before him. Like the plants that abandoned him, the Aeldari only needed to abandon the Old Ones who controlled them. They could hide their unborn young beneath the dirt or burrow them within the Webway, like seeds or spores, while the Yngir fed upon their masters.

All of those alive now would die, but new generations might be able to survive past the harsh rule of the Star Gods that was to come. Even the Yngir were not eternal. The Aeldari had proved that.

'Of course, we will disappear as well…' Isha thought to herself.

The death of all her current children would mean the cessation of all thought from the Aeldari. That meant their Pantheon would fade from the immaterium.

It was a necessary sacrifice.

The only place available to hide from the oghyr and their Star Gods was death. Even they could not bring back a life that had been lost. That was the only path for survival she could see from her throne, as fortress after fortress crumbled under the Yngir's might.

The children who would be hidden could have no memory of them. No evidence nor records would point to them. There would be nothing to connect them to this point in time or to their gods. Only that complete and utter dissociation could hide them from their enemies.

'But we will not be allowed to do that…'

The Old Ones still had a firm grip on her children, and her as well. Even though they were losing, it did not change the fact that they had once controlled the entire galaxy. The war was still ongoing, and their forces were not totally routed. Victory was a dream, but not an impossible one.

'So why?' Isha thought to herself.

Why fight for masters who wouldn't allow them to run.

Why waste her children's lives in futile trial and error.

"Why?" The Goddess of Life spoke to the God of the Hunt.

"Because they ask for it." He replied; back turned towards her as he attempted to control the plants again. "Win or lose, this galaxy will be changed." Kurnous continued, even as a hyperphase blade cleft his body in two.

"The bounties of past ages will be forever gone, and the only thing we hope to win will be our survival." He said as he reappeared in a new body. "Yet, they do not give up, even when they stand face to face against the Yngir." A wooden spear appeared in his hand, and the Necron forces before him faded, as the battlefield reset for him to try again. "So long as they ask for a successful hunt, I shall answer them. That is my duty as their god, and the least I can do for their sacrifices."

He was the God of the Hunt, and the teacher of those who sought his guidance.

He could not offer raw knowledge like Hoeth, nor did he provide new insights like Hekarti.

Yet, he still taught the Aeldari how to hunt the Necron with means manageable by their frailer forms.

"And do you see victory in your hand, God of the Hunt?" Isha asked.

"I do not know." Kurnous said without turning towards her. "But it is not my duty to make that decision for them. I am the God of the Hunt, and so long as they wish it I will give my blessing upon them."

Isha watched Kurnous as he started his simulation once again upon her worlds.

Then she lifted her hand.

"Those plants will not obey you like that." Her fingers pointed towards the vicious vegetation that once again prioritized their survival over Kurnous's orders. "They will always put their own survival first over yours." Feint strings began to appear in thin air, linking together in the aether like a chain of magnets. "Only when their fates are intertwined with ours, and their legacy is assured will they fight to the end with you."

The plants ceased wilting as the strings connected them to the Goddess of Life. Seeds and spores fell from them into Kurnous's hand, and he whistled softly, spinning a Wraithbone cocoon around each one.

"I shall remember this lesson." He said as he sent the offspring of the plants into the Webway, keeping them hidden far better than the soil of the planet, and spreading them further than any wind or bird could manage. All of this, he relayed back to the plants in their primitive chemical language, along with a simple message.

They would grow again, even if this planet died.

Their future was secured so long as the Aeladari survived.

The cycle of life stored within the core of the mother of the Aeldari ensured that.

Even if the entire Webway was burned down and every last trace of them was erased, Isha's tears would allow them to arise anew upon once dead worlds.

Neoth's brown eyes blinked as he returned from the memory, back to the golden bathhouse and the golden haired goddess before him.

"I did not find him unpleasant." Isha said softly.

There was a man who would not give up, so long as his people asked for him. He stood endlessly amongst the multiple environments they would fight in, and experienced every trouble and tribulation they would.

There was a woman who could not die, so long as her children lived. Their entire lives were forced into her heart, and their pain and suffering was used to rebirth planets.

One was the beginning and the end. The other traveled the journey through the middle.

"Over the many years, we taught and gave each other many things, including our daughter Lilieath." Isha continued. "I have fought with him and laid with him. I suffered millenia of torture beside him in my father's domain. To sum up my feelings for him in a single word is impossible."

"I see…" Neoth said.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of dripping moisture in the bathhouse.

"You still have two areas of intrigue you may ask me about." Isha said tiredly, ending all further discussion about Kurnous.

Neoth sat back in the pool, letting out a short sigh from his nose as he mulled over what he had seen and heard.

There was no weakness there. Any wounds upon her psyche had long since scabbed over into scars. There was no advantage to be gained from further discussion. All that was to be gained was an understanding of Isha as an individual and her ire. Neither were important to the Emperor of the Imperium; the Master of Mankind.

"Tell me about that blackness." Neoth said, changing the topic. "What was it?"

That emptiness he had seen when Trazyn had opened the Webway disturbed him. He had stared into various pits and holes within the Webway where time looped endlessly, creating prisons more inescapable than a black hole. He had passed by craters within the Warp that led to even deeper madness than Chaos itself.

Those sights had made him cautious, but that blackness caused a feeling of dread to spread through him.

"Nyadra'zatha." Isha spat the name with a bitter expression. "The Yngir who breached the Webway." The goddess's eyes narrowed and the waters around her darkened to the color of a stormy sea. "That blackness is a result of it interacting with the strange flow of time within the Webway. It is the state it causes all things to trend towards."

"You called it the Burning One, but I saw nothing of the sort." Neoth said as his brow furrowed. That blackness was the furthest thing from fire or even heat he could imagine. It exuded a different sort of cold from the biting chill of the Warp.

"Flames are merely the easiest of its forms to understand." Isha muttered. "Combustion and explosions are the fastest way to increase entropy, after all."

Neoth's brow furrowed. "Then…"

"Yes." Isha nodded. "That is the end state of all things. It is what the entire observable universe we have is heading towards."

"The heat death of the universe." Neoth's jaw tightened as he understood what the feeling of dread he felt when he looked at it. That blackness was a window into the future. and the inevitable fate of everything around them that science predicted.

"Those blind to all except the now would only see a void." Isha sighed. "But for those who can see past the veil and glean glimpses of what will come, that blackness evokes our greatest feelings of loss. It is the end of all things as entropy increases until all energy and matter becomes so isolated from each other that all things simply cease to be. That is Nyadra'zatha. That is what all things trend towards in its presence. Thankfully, in the materium, it can only accelerate the increase in entropy by a factor of several thousand. Hence, the spontaneous combustion of anything oxidizable around it. However, within the Webway, time can run faster or slower according to the eddies of the immaterium. It is in that near timeless realm that we see the end result of the Breath of the Infinite Pit."

Cosmic nihilsm. An existence where everything that could happen had happened, and there was nothing else left to occur.

Neoth remembered the feeling of loss that had been brought up at the sight of the Infinite Pit. It felt like rewatching the entirety of humanity fall under the darkness of Old Night once again. Unprepared psykers would have been reduced to sobbing wrecks at the sight of it, or simply died from the despair that poured out of the hole in invisible waves.

"What does it seek to gain from that?" Neoth continued, blinking away the discomfort he felt from the memory.

"You have met a fragment of Mag'ladroth, the Void Dragon." Isha snorted. "Do you think the Yngir have wants or desires?"

"No…" Neoth said with a soft shake of his head. "They simply are."

He could still remember the battle against the C'tan shard. A Church of ancient times had popularized the myth of St. George, but its origins lay far further back in human history with the Thracian Horsemen. They had not been alone when they defeated their serpent.

"Indeed." Isha nodded. "The Burning One does not burn all those around it because it wants to. The fact that they are not burning is simply incomprehensible to it. Thus, everything burns around it because it should. There is no other reason for it to do what it does." The goddess let out a tired sigh and the dark waters around her began to clear.

"As difficult as the battle was for you, it may have been fortunate it was a shard of Mag'ladroth and not Nyadra'zatha that found itself here." She said idly. "The former has been a creator, while the latter only destroys. I have seen the shards of the Burning One hasten the death of planets, forcing the mantle out of the insulating crust, spewing the hot blood of their cores into the void. Eventually, all that is left is a barren mass of rock exposed to the solar winds. I doubt your kind would have survived that."

A chill passed through Neoth as he remembered a planet that fit that description.

"Yes, Midgardia." Isha nodded. "Save that knowledge for now. It may be worth something later."

The Emperor's brow furrowed as he realized what she had just told him.

"Do you know what other human worlds have been polluted by C'tan shards?" He growled.

"I can recognize their signs in your memories." Isha shrugged.

"And will you tell me of them?" Neoth leaned forward slightly in the water, muscles tensing like a lion getting ready to pounce.

"At your request." Isha said calmly, making no attempt to react to his threatening posture. "Although, it is sometimes better to leave them be. Even as shards, they can plot and scheme. My children had no need for whatever secrets they carried. I would advise you to do the same, even if you have already used the Void Dragon."

"I will take your advice into consideration, but humanity's path will be dictated by me." Neoth warned before sitting back into the waters of the pool.

"As you wish. I will do my best to make my warnings as direct as possible should you venture too close to doomed folly." Isha replied irritably, long ears flicking like an annoyed cat's.

Neoth snorted, but let the jibe pass.

"Will that thief be able to come here again using that shard?" He asked as he put an elbow on the lip of the pool and rested his cheek on his fist.

"In theory, he may." Isha replied. "However, using Nyadra'zatha or any shard of the Star Gods is taxing in many ways. On top of that, the shards are not exactly cooperative. Overuse may grant an opening for revenge or release. Trazyn will try to keep his usage of the Webway to a bare minimum for those reasons, especially if his exit is near us now that we are familiar with its presence and the element of surprise is lost."

Neoth gave an affirmative grunt at that. That feeling of loss was not something he would forget. Even if it were from a future so far away that even a billion lifetimes of the current universe would not reach it, it stuck to him in a different way to the chill of the Warp.

"What are your intentions for the future?" He asked next, bringing him to his final area of intrigue.

"How far in the future do you wish to speak of?" Isha asked back facetiously.

"After you are gone." Neoth asked grimly, and Isha's fair features pursed as if she had bitten into something sour.

Isha's proposed method of removing the Ruinous Powers from the immaterium would most like incapacitate her as well. Thus, any future where they won would be one without her.

"I see you teaching those children diplomacy. I have you advising me on various matters. Yet, I have not had a clear answer regarding your children." Neoth pressed on as Isha remained silent. "You told me they could survive without you, but that is only a boast and not a plan. How do you plan to have your children exist with humanity?"

"I have already told you that I do not have the ability to tell them how to live their lives." Isha said with a huff, avoiding the question.

"Yet, you are not a puppet to their whims." Neoth pressed on. "There are outcomes you prefer."

"There are…" Isha admitted slowly. "I do not like conflict. I tolerate it because it is necessary, but it is a messy business."

"Then you wish to foster peace between us?" Neoth asked with a raised eyebrow.

"More than that…" Isha let out a sigh before sitting up in the pool, meeting the Emperor's gaze. "Peace can be broken. Oaths can be betrayed. Words can lose their meaning over the ages. Mere coexistence is not enough. Codependence is the only thing that can keep parties together."

The Emperor stared into the silvery eyes of the goddess. Yet, instead of a reflection of himself, he saw a conviction harder than steel.

"Then what will your children rely on us for? You have already offered multiple things to humanity."

"I must admit, there is not much my children can want from you." Isha said tiredly. "My children have no need for material wants, and they will return to being near immortal once the Four are gone. Some of them may return to their self-inflicted isolation, others may return to purging the remains of the oghyr from the stars."

But many might return to their old way of life.

The unsaid portion of Isha's admission weighed down heavily on the both of them.

"I will not suffer another Aeldari empire." Neoth warned. He still planned for humanity to fill the vacuum the Aeldari had left. That was the only way to increase the strength of this Imperium; to empower it to the point it could survive any existential threat.

"I do not wish for them to return to what they were either." Isha said bitterly. "But that may be the result over enough years should they once again be unfettered by age and need."

Neoth snorted at that.

"You would imagine destroying themselves would make the lesson permanent." He said sarcastically.

Isha raised an eyebrow and countered with an equally cynical tone. "Have humans learned to avoid their self-destructive tendencies?"

"They will not, under my rule." The Emperor's tone was calm, but his voice seemed to echo against the walls of the bath house, ringing like a church bell at the top of a mighty cathedral. His words were gospel at that moment, spoken with an unwavering confidence that would have silenced any mortal before him.

"We shall see." Isha said instead, not bothering to debate the issue with him. "Regardless, my children's inability to rely on your kind is something I will have to consider. Thankfully, there will be time. With so many of their former worlds ruined, the rebuilding will not give them the time to fall into depravity. That should keep them occupied for at least several million years."

It took that long to recover from the War in Heaven, and the cataclysm that befell them was equal in scale when focused only on the Aeldari.

"And if they do Fall again?" Neoth asked again, tone calm but demanding a direct answer from the mother of the Aeldari.

"They will not." Isha replied resolutely. "Even in the future, there will be children who remember what happened. They would do everything to stop another Fall." A bitter expression soured the goddess's features as she predicted what would happen. "Their new empire would tear itself apart with civil war should depravity begin to take hold. Slaanesh will not be reborn, but my father may have the last laugh." The frustration furrowing her brow slowly faded as the irritation faded from her face, as a bleak sorrow washed over her features. "Perhaps the rise and fall is necessary to keep life together in a balanced manner."

Neoth let out a derisive grunt at that. "Empires require a vision to remain intact." He said gruffly. "People are held together by a common goal, a shared dream."

Isha let out a tired chuckle at the boast. In the end, conquest and glory were the only solutions of the Emperor.

"And you will show this dream to your people?" She asked sarcastically.

"I am it."

The words sent small ripples away from the Emperor; as the water, the air, and the space around him seemed shudder at the conviction with which he spoke. There was no self-deception, nor confusion regarding this fact for the Emperor.

Isha watched him warily as she waited for the psychic side-effects of the Emperor's statement slowly subside.

As the God of Heroes, he was not entirely incorrect. He was the embodiment of the aspirations of mankind, and the torch bearer for humanity by definition. Even if everyone forgot what he wished to do, or how he would do it his title alone would have them die for him in a heartbeat.

"I cannot lead my children like you lead your Imperium." Isha said slowly. "I have given up that path. It will have to be someone else, or themselves that will find the proper path."

The Emperor let out a sigh, then spoke with a tone so tired one could hear his true age.

"You maternal goddesses…" He said bitterly. "Erda and you both... You have too much faith in those you spawned."

"We know their flaws and love them regardless." Isha said curtly. "That is all."

"Then your love blinds you." Neoth's arm splashed back into the pool as he leaned back and stared up at the bathhouse ceiling. "I know their flaws, and I will fix them."

Isha began to shake her head. If things were so easy, neither she nor Erda would be in the state they were in.

However, as her neck began to turn, her head stopped moving. Finally, she turned back to the Emperor, and gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you can, God of Heroes." She said softly. "May your legend save humanity from itself."

Even if she thought it was impossible, it would serve no point to smash his hope. Besides, it was futile to convince him otherwise. The Emperor could not abandon humanity, and hence could not abandon his attempts to save them from themselves.

"We are done here." The Emperor said tiredly.

He knew that even though Isha wished him well, she did not agree with him. What's more, she did not have a full plan to allow her children to coexist with his people. That would be another thing he would have to consider for the future.

"I guess we are." Isha said, then stood up from the waters and stepped out of the pool. There was a brief gust of air, and a fine mist rose from her skin as the moisture evaporated off her on its own accord. "Good night, Neoth." She said as she held her towel closed and walked past him.

"... Good night, Isha." Neoth replied without turning towards her.

He heard the door open and close as the goddess left, and then he was truly alone with his thoughts.

The matter of coexistence with the Aeldari was something he had tacitly agreed to by leaving Isha alive and unbound. However, what form that would take was yet to be decided. Isha had proposed things the Aeldari could give to him, but he did not know what humanity could give back in return. That was not coexistence. If anything it would make humanity a client state of the Aeldari; a state of existence that would make them dependent on them.

Neoth let out another tired sigh as he realized he was thinking of ways humanity could reciprocate the Aeldari. Perhaps this was another one of the convoluted tricks of diplomacy made by their mother.

"To think, it would have been easier to just rob and steal from them." Neoth muttered to himself. At least, that way he would only have to worry about taking from the Aeldari, and not about giving back.

'For the time being, however…' Neoth thought to himself as he allowed himself to sink into the warm waters of the pool. 'There will at least be a common enemy to bind us together.'

Assistance against the Ruinous Powers was the one thing humanity could always provide the Aeldari. So, at least for the foreseeable future, he could consider working with them.

---

A/N : The biomancy and plants mentioned here are something demonstrated in "The Infinite and the Divine" by the Exodites against the Necron who appear.

Join the Craftworld Iyanden Discord Server!

Check out the Craftworld Iyanden community on Discord - hang out with 520 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.

discord.gg