The darkness was the first thing she remembered; an all consuming blackness that felt welcome and pleasant if it hadn't been for the occasional errant thought in her mind. Neither warm nor cold she wanted to stay in this peaceful state forever, but fate would have none of it.
When she woke up it was dark, and for a moment she wondered if she had been struck blind by some misfortune. Then bit by bit things started to take shape as the world came into focus. Details popped in here and there, and her surroundings were brought to listless life as her eyes regained vision. Around her the walls were weaving in chaotic patterns of glistening wet obsidian that stretched across the room and into the ceiling like crude veins. She did not feel welcome in this environment and already she missed the restful slumber that was now behind her. In the middle of the compact hall was a lone torch that sputtered in the empty space and she wondered who had left it there; perhaps it had been her. Looking ahead she saw pitch black darkness and wondered if it led anywhere.
She grunted as stabbing pain struck through her head like a bolt of lightning; her hand instinctively reaching for her forehead, rubbing her temples as the pain faded into memory. Her forehead was wet with perspiration and the realization brought her attention to the fact that she felt clammy and sweaty all over, as if she had been exhausting herself. The clothing upon her body, a robe of iridescent yellow with blue trims, stuck to her skin. Looking closer at the robe she saw markings and runes embroidered into the cloth itself in such finely detailed and delicate manner that she could not help but marvel at the craftsmanship. She wondered what the runes meant, and in the back of her mind she heard whispers of terrible, but familiar, power.
At that moment she realized that something was amiss, and letting her consciousness travel within her mind she realized something: she didn't remember anything, not even her name. It was a realization that made her mind race in panic as it compounded the fact that she did not know where she was. Lost and without memory, she became a jumble of frantic thoughts, her breath was quick and shallow, her vision threatening to black out.
Yet something in her mind stirred as her thoughts raced against each other in hectic combat, and from that a powerful stillness emerged. She did not know how or where, but this came to her as naturally as any born trait, and it quelled out any and all renegade thought from her mind space. Her breathing slowed down, became deeper, and with that she could feel her body relax. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing it. She was in control.
With that control came analytical thoughts that spurred her into focused action. Opening her eyes she took another good look at the hall in front of her and took in any detail that might be important. Frustration grew as she realized that there was nothing in front of her but darkness and that torch, but she quickly commandeered her mind before letting it derail once more. It was when she looked behind her that she found something of interest.
Behind her was a large double door made out of a much different material than that of the hall itself. Faintly iridescent in the dark it appeared to have been woven out of some sort of ivory; detailed patterns carved into the bone with incredible skill and finesse. Wanting to take a better look at the door she started to stand up only to discover that every single joint and bone in her body screamed for her to stop. Pushing through the pain she managed to get herself up on her feet, but the ordeal left her exhausted and winded; her body felt ancient and crumbling.
Although moving appeared to smoothen her joints, movement was still painful and arduous as she picked up the torch from the ground. Swinging the torch into the dark corners of the hall she could see the nearby walls dance frantically in return, their chaotic behaviour hypnotizing and alluring in the dark space. Yet she did not care about the walls; it was the door that held her immediate attention. With caution in her step she approached the ivory portal. The finely spun threads of the material dazzled in the dim torchlight, and she could not help but touch the material even if it was foolish. Warm to the touch it pulsed in tandem with her heartbeat, as if it was a part of her own being. She traced the runes on the portal and she could remember distant teachings and realized they were for protection. Protection from what, she thought to herself.
She wondered what was behind the door, her worries about her own memory loss distant in face of her rising curiosity. The door was large and was so flush with the entrance that she couldn't imagine the door could ever be opened one way or another. Knocking on it twice gently she whispered, "Hello."
Dismay filled her as the only thing that answered was the hollow silence of the hall itself. The mind plays tricks in absence of stimuli, and in the quiet place her ears could hear the illusion of sounds and voices; she was on edge as she listened for anything that might stick out, her skin painfully aware of the clothing upon her body as her senses heightened. She was about to turn away from the door when a faint hiss of a sound emanated from it.
"Hello," a voice whispered. The sound was almost inaudible and she thought it might be her imagination, but the voice repeated itself, affirming its existence.
"Who are you," she asked; a mix of hope and fear tumbling through her mind. This could either be an ally or her jailor, and not remembering anything she feared the latter.
"I… I don't really remember my name," the voice said, weak and frail; "It feels like I have been here forever locked behind this door. No day nor night, just endless darkness. I have lost all count of time."
"It seems we have that in common, the memory loss that is. I don't remember anything either; not even my name," she answered. It was the sole common thread they shared, and perhaps the voice could provide her with hints of memory.
"Mehsys," the voice replied.
"What's that? Mehsys?"
"That's your name, at least the one I heard you shout earlier. Perhaps in your sleep, I don't know. I can't see anything from where I am."
Was that her name? Her mind rolled the word around her mind as if testing it, and it did seem familiar. It was better than nothing and she took the name for herself.
"Do you know who brought us here?" Mehsys asked. She felt starved for information, and having someone else might shed some light on her predicament. The presence of company also meant she wouldn't suffer in this alien place alone.
"No, I don't," the voice replied.
"You must know something? There must be something you can tell me!"
She encountered silence at her sudden outburst and she feared she might have frightened whoever was behind the door. Silently she cursed her temperament, and something told her she should know better. The tension in her chest relaxed as the voice replied.
"I am sorry. I can only tell you that we've been here for a long time and there seems to be no escape from here. It's a never ending cycle."
We. The word gave rise to questions and doubts in Mehsys mind as she tried to frame possible meanings. Did it mean we as in the two of them or was there someone else with it behind the door?
"You mean the two of us?" Mehsys pressed, wanting to make sure.
"I am sorry. I am too tired, I must rest. All of this has become too tiring."
"No please, don't go," Mehsys begged, not wanting to be left alone once more.
Silence followed and she felt frustration build up within her. There were now no answers forthcoming and her only lead in this forsaken place had gone silent. She knocked on the door in hopes of getting the voice's attention, but her only response was more silence; the banging of the door echoing in the empty hall. She didn't want to admit it, but she was also exhausted, but did not want to rest while in captivity.
Having nothing better to do she traced the walls of the hall in search of any clues or hidden pathways. The walls' surface was like a cool crystal to the touch; smooth and twisted they trailed around the walls away from the door and into the ceiling. Moving away from the door she found the darkness becoming heavier; thicker even. Like a mist it enveloped everything that tried to pass through it, even the torch and the light it cast was swallowed by the grim shade it cast in its environment. Not wanting to risk getting lost Mehsys made her way back towards the ivory door which was the only point of orientation she knew in this dreadful place. She queried the voice behind the door once more, but no answer came. Tired, she sat down with her back against the door.
She could feel tears forming in her eyes, blurring her vision. She did not blink nor sob, but the tears flowed nonetheless. She cursed herself, and the purgatory around her.
Slowly, and surely, she started to drift into sleep, the torch hitting the floor with a clunky sound as her own mind found freedom from the hall and its single portal.
The massive arboretum was the pride of the craftworld. A verdant green garden of nature that had been preserved and taken care of by those who had pledged their hands and skills to its preservation. Within its borders were floras salvaged from multiple worlds, harvested for their potential as well as beauty. Small streams of water ran through the entire area feeding plants nourishment and water, making them blossom in such interminable beauty that Mehsys never tired of sitting in the shade and just enjoying the view. Above artificial sunlight shone upon everything, bringing life to a place that should not by all accounts bear such rich fruit. If one looked close enough one could see past the sunlight projectors and see the void of space, the only thing separating this garden and the galaxy a dome of reinforced and transparent material. Even paradise had its walls, she thought to herself.
Mehsys felt safe here beneath the wide leaves of a large tree, communing with the small piece of earth and its plants in her own way. She had once worked this garden with her hands, and even after all this time she could still feel it beckon to her in its silent manner, tempting her to abandon the path she had taken. She could not help but feel a sense of regret in her choice, even if her mentor had often told her she should let go of all sentimentality.
"Lost in thought are you?" A voice interrupted, breaking whatever reverie Mehsys had lost herself in. Looking around she could see an all too familiar face smiling at her.
"Mother," Mehsys replied, a sly grin escaping her usual facade.
"Good to see you are in good spirits Mehsys. I was getting worried your training was getting the better of you."
Mehsys mother sat down next to her, joining her in the shade. She was a woman whose age could only be discerned through the multiple fine scars upon her face, and the deep pathos that was evident in her eyes that kept their gaze at a distant horizon that she would never reach.
"You know me, lighthearted as always," Mehsys remarked as she grinned foolishly. She enjoyed testing her mother's temperament, knowing that her carefree nature would raise ire in the older woman.
"The world is a cruel place that rarely has time for such mischief, especially after what happened," her mother replied, ignoring her daughter's crude facial expression and jest. "I'd rather you live and survive thanks to your teachings, than die because you lost focus."
Mehsys squirmed at the words, knowing full well the subject she was referring to. Days earlier she divined a path so broken that it had led her squadron down a fraught road and lives had been lost that day. Mehsys could not help but look away. Realizing the impact of her words, Mehsys' mother reached out and caressed Mehsys' face.
"You're a seeress now and with that comes a whole ordeal of responsibilities; responsibilities that I will never know. What happens happens, but how you react is on you. You alone bear responsibility for yourself, and we must all endure that weight."
Mehsys disliked when her mother preached, but remained silent knowing the full weight of her own sins. For a minute they enjoyed the gentle and controlled weather of the arboreum. It was in these silent moments she enjoyed her time with her mother the most.
"Have you never thought about walking the Path of the Seer," Mehsys asked, interrupting their reverie. Her mother had survived longer than most, and faced more than her share of combat and horrors. If anyone could walk the Path, it would be her.
"Not one that entices me, or even calls to me. I am, and always have been, a warrior. It's the Path to which my feet belong, and I doubt that will ever change my dear."
Mehsys' often looked past her mother's warrior nature due to their relations. It had been a barrier between the two of them; a barrier that was sometimes more a rift than anything else.
"Walk the path you believe to be yours. Just know that I love you mother. Always have and always will," Mehsys said with a comforting smile as she took a good look at her aging parent. She took in the braided silver hair, and the stark ice blue eyes, remembering her mother for what she was: the strongest woman she had ever known.
"I love you too."
Mehsys' mother smiled as she hugged her daughter; the world outside a distant experience that felt inconsequential to the respite they shared. Mehsys wanted it to last as long as it could, tightening the hug. There had rarely been many moments like these, and they were to be treasured and enjoyed for as long as she was able.
It was the intimate aspect of it all that made Mehsys oblivious to the fact that with each passing second her mother's embrace felt colder and colder. It wasn't until she felt her mother's body go limp in her arms that she opened her eyes to see what was going on. She would have screamed if the sound hadn't lodged in her throat. Her mother's body was all but gone; a rotted and withered husk that was slowly being pulled apart by unseen forces. A low whisper escaped the mummified mouth as its jaw fell to the ground: "Mehsys".
Pushing the body away in horror, Mehsys stumbled to her feet in search of help, but found none. Looking around she could see that the once verdant garden she had taken shelter in was slowly decaying into nothingness; the colors of the universe turning muddy and black around her as the arboretum was claimed by death and decay, the dying trees becoming twisted, their forms cruel and mocking. The scream finally dislodged itself from her throat and she woke herself up.
Cold sweat clung to her body like a disease; the cool air of the empty hall magnifying in the perspiration. Bewildered at first, she looked around in desperate panic as to anchor herself; her only company the twisted and empty walls. Leaning back she sighed as her heart attempted to relax along with her nerves. The nightmare had been a familiar one, and like a tiny piece in a larger puzzle it was piece of evidence to who she was, or at least had been.
"Nightmares," the voice from the door asked. She had forgotten about the guest behind the ivory portal.
"Maybe. Not sure to be honest," she answered in a voice that was distant, her mind still lingering on the dream.
"The place does that to you. It evokes old memories and corrupts them. Uses them against you."
Mehsys stood up and stretched her aching limbs. She didn't know how long she had been out, and far all she knew she could have been asleep for days.
"Do you have these nightmares?" Mehsys asked as she flexed her joints, wincing.
"No, can't say I do."
"Then how do you know about them?"
There was silence after Mehsys had voiced her question. She wondered if she had touched a sensitive subject and the voice would disappear once more. She did not know why, but she felt so damnably isolated and alone; a feeling that had been brewing in the back of her mind and the stranger behind the door did little to alleviate that sensation.
"This is not the first time."
Something about the statement sent shivers down Mehsys' spine. If there had been others, where were their remains?
"Were there others before me? Did they escape?"
Again she was faced with silence, and she started to think her companion behind the door was hiding things from her.
"What's in the darkness at the other end of the hall?" Mehsys asked. She needed answers and she was determined to get them. She sensed hesitation in her companion.
"T… the darkness? I wouldn't recommend going there. Not safe. Dangerous. Better stay close to the door until," the voice said, its rhythm sporadic and suspect. She needed to push.
"Why does it feel like you know more than you are letting on?" She sensed frustration slipping into the voice behind the door. Like tiny prickles she could feel her skin react to something in the air as if something was about to happen; something terrible.
"I don't know anything. I just wouldn't go barging away from here. Safety in numbers," the voice growled.
At that exact moment Mehsys heard the sound of bone snap and she could feel dread wash over her as she looked down to the leftmost corner of the strange ivory door. A large angular crack had formed, throwing out a large splinter into the hall. Ephemeral light seeped through the small crack, casting a faint pink hue over the surrounding ivory of the door. She could hear the voice giggle.
Mehsys stepped back as she could see cracks start to grow from its initial position, like poison spreading through a venous system. "Who are you really?"
The laughter stopped, leaving a dreadful calm. Mehsys grabbed the torch, readying herself.
"An old friend," the voice responded, a menacing tone casting its shadow over it. "An old, and tired friend."
"If you are truly a friend, why hide it?" Mehsys' moved backwards towards the darkness at the other end of the hall.
"Because of you."
The words confused Mehsys, but there was a strange truth to it that hounded her, scratching at the back of her mind. She looked at the darkness behind her, her feet preparing to jump into the all consuming abyss. She could see the crack spreading across the door in pulses. It was as if there was a heart beating, and with each beat the poison spread that much more.
"We need to end this game Mehsys," the voice stated, the light from the cracks vibrating with each syllable as the growing cracks threw sharp splinters into the air. "You can't hide forever."
Mehsys felt trapped. There was nowhere to run but into the blind darkness behind her, and the only other option was to face whoever was behind this door. Something in the back of her mind warned her that the latter would be suicide.
"I can hide in the dark," Mehsys taunted, her path clear.
She could hear the voice growl unintelligibly as she backed into the dark mist, allowing it to swallow her as she saw the last glimpses of the door break apart; its ivory shell crumbling outwards thanks to an unseen force. As the darkness blinded her she could have sworn she could see someone reach out from the door, but soon that didn't matter as the world grew dim and her mind was cast into shadow once more.
There is remarkable peace in oblivion. No thought, nor worry, or any stimuli. Just the warm empty embrace of darkness without end; the end of all things, living and dead. The peaceful slumber it offered was a welcome reprieve, and Mehsys cursed as she could feel her consciousness being pulled back into the realm of the living. She just felt so damnably tired.
With her eyes closed she could feel her back resting upon an uneven surface covered in some sort of foliage. Opening her eyes she could see dark clouds in a bruised sky with the occasional lightning snaking its way across its violent surface. It was an ominous sky that spoke to Mehsys of past memories; memories she didn't want to remember. There was a sense of guilt in these broken memories, and she wanted none of it.
Her body continued to ache as before as she stood up, her movement robotic and artificial as she gritted her teeth against the pain. If anything it was worse than before, and Mehsys wondered if she could really escape any pursuer if pressed.
Around her was a thick grove of twisted and splintered trees that appeared to have been met with overpowering force. Looking closer she could see projectile patterns in the trunks and remaining branches, and recognized them immediately: Shuriken weaponry. There was something welcoming about seeing something she recognized, even in such a desolate place as this one; it gave her a sliver of hope. Tracing the direction of the firing patterns she brushed aside branches as she headed towards the origin point. Her heart quickened, knowing that beyond the alien pines there might be familiar faces. Faces that could perhaps tell her who she was. Rushing haphazardly through the last few branches she found herself in a small valley surrounded by a thick wall of trees.
Her heart sank as she gazed at the sight in front of her, her mind refusing to accept what she saw. Her mouth repeatedly and silently repeating the word "no," as if denying the scene would somehow undo reality. It was a massacre. The floor of the valley was littered with the dead bodies of her people, the Asuryani. Hundreds of corpses had found their final rest here, their broken bodies twisted and torn. Dried and crusted blood lined the ground in various chaotic and violent patterns, with innards following not far behind. Her eyes were tearing up, her hand clasping at her mouth in a vain attempt at silencing her cries at the gruesome sight.
Slowly, she started to walk, her steps leading her into the middle of the macabre display; her feet avoiding the blood soaked earth with each step. She recognized some of the insignia and faces, her memory sputtering in and out like a broken communication terminal. These had been her friends - her comrades - and they were all dead; each death a monumental loss in its own right.
Mehsys felt as if she was losing her mind as she gripped her head between her hands, her fingers entangling themselves in her auburn hair. She didn't know what was happening, and her lack of memory drove her almost mad. There was a war in her mind as it attempted to reconcile half-remembered memories and reality. Stumbling, she fell to her knees.
She screamed, her voice echoing through the valley of death.
There was no response except for the occasional crackle of lightning making its way across the ugly sky above. Everyone was gone except for Mehsys, leaving her alone and abandoned in a world she did not remember. Even the hall felt like a distant dream, ephemeral and unreal. She started to chuckle to herself as she cursed her predicament; one that felt unreal and nightmarish.
"I am losing it," she said to the lifeless body of a warrior she somehow recalled. A young man he had been following the path of an Aspect, and here he was with his mangled and broken face in the dirt, his flesh slowly decaying. She could not recall much else about him, except that he had a kind face when not wearing the mask of Khaine upon his face. He had been kind to her and that was the only thing she remembered, and right now that was the only thing that mattered. Everything else was noise and static that she could not recall fully. Every single piece she did remember felt invaluable to her eroding sense of self.
Mehsys sat hunched for what felt like an hour, the wind gently caressing her tear stained face. Exhausted, she did not want to move. She didn't want to do anything except let the earth claim her. Yet deep inside she could hear her faceless mentors tell her that she must continue; that giving up was to surrender to damnation and the horrors therein. Slowly she got back up on her feet, her mind ignoring the pain in her joints; it felt inconsequential now. It meant she was still alive to feel it, and that had to account for something, even if it was to take care of the dead.
Salvage the stones and bury the bodies, she told herself. No one was ever truly dead as long as their essence - their soul - was safely guarded within the matrix of a spirit stone, and there even Ulenas would live for eternity. He would never again know the touch of skin or life as he remembered, but nevertheless he would continue on. It was the least she could do in the current situation. One day she would meet the same fate as would all of her kind.
The task of retrieving the spirit stones of her fellow soldiers gave her immediate purpose, and purpose held back the sorrow that circled the edges of her heart. Looking around she found a small blade that she could use to pry free the stones, and she set herself to task as she attempted to get the stone that was attached to poor Ulenas. There was something macabre to the situation as she found herself knee deep in corpses attempting to get the stones loose. They were embedded firmly within the Aeldari weave that the armor consisted of, and dirt and blood made the task that much harder, her blade slipping in the process. Even the unlocking mechanism was jammed by grime and gore.
"Why…," a faint whisper came out of nowhere.
Mehsys, startled, looked around, the blade in her assuming combat position as she flipped the handle in her palm. She had had enough of mysterious voices. Perking her ears she listened to her surroundings as she scanned the area with her eyes. She could hear the wind rolling through the valley, and the rustle of trees as they caught in the wind. In the distance there was the crackling sound of thunder. No voice or movement could be detected, and she sighed in relief.
"Losing my mind," she told herself as she continued with her task. Talking to herself provided her with little comfort, but was better than the silence of the dead.
She had no sooner put her fingers upon the spirit stone when Ulenas' rotting hand grabbed her wrist with such force that it threatened to break it. Mehsys screamed in pain as her eyes widened in horror as the animated body of Ulenas started to rise from the ground, guts spilling out of a hideous gash in his abdomen with each movement. Ulenas' reanimated corpse twisted her wrist and hand further, forcing her to sit face to face with his scarred face; pieces of torn muscle exposed through a wound on his face.
"Why did you betray us Mehsys?" Ulenas asked, the loose skin on his face flapping absurdly with each word, as if his face was a mask that was slowly coming undone from the flesh underneath it. Mehsys attempted to wrest herself free from Ulenas' grasp, but as she tugged at her arm the grip became even firmer. Her hand started to feel numb.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Mehsys cried through gritted teeth. It felt as if her wrist would break at any moment.
Remembering the blade in her hand she spun it around in her hand and grasped the hilt, bringing it down upon Ulenas' arm and slicing it clean through, leaving a stump attached to her swinging on her arm like a festering ornament. Mehsys shook her arm to get rid of the dead thing, her hand slowly getting reacquainted with sensation as blood flowed through it once more. Ulenas attempted to grab at her with his other hand, but its mangled and wrecked form left it weak and useless.
Mehsys kicked at Ulenas, sending his broken body back into the ground where he writhed, attempting to get back on his feet like a twitching insect. Backing away, Mehsys felt something tug at the edges of her robe, and looking down she could see the body of another soldier claw at the dirty cloth like an overgrown infant. In fact, as she looked around she could see the mass of dead bodies move towards her as if possessed; their reanimated corpses moving in disjointed and erratic manner. Turning around she tried to run but tripped as a bloodied hand found her ankle, grabbing it with the same force that had possessed Ulenas. It sent her sprawling to the ground and the army of the dead swarmed over her like locust. Dazed from the fall she pushed haplessly at the incoming tide.
"Betrayer," the bodies said in a monotone chorus, their hands clawing at her body, ripping the fabric of her robe to shreds as their fingers pried through for flesh to rip. She felt searing pain as the dead hands tore through her skin in multiple places. Blood gushed into the air, staining her assailants as they continued their assault. She tried to kick and punch as she could, but the flood of bodies overwhelmed her.
Is this how it ends? She thought. She wanted to give in and let go, to be free of the struggle as her voice gave out mid-scream. A moment or two and she'd be free of pain and misery. Not one to pray, she hoped to the gods that the end would be swift.
The assault suddenly stopped. With eyes closed Mehsys heard nothing but the occasional rustle of armor. She was still pinned against the ground, and could feel a half a dozen arms holding her still with strength that was beyond her. She felt someone moving on top of her. To her surprise she felt clammy hands grab her head, its hold gentle and caring. The cold and withered hands caressed her cheek. She squirmed and whimpered.
"Ssshhhh."
There was a familiar tone to the sound and Mehsys opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize who it was. The blood and the dirt masked the markings of the armor, and its face had been ripped apart, leaving a jawless face and empty eyes propped upon what was left of the neck. What Mehsys did recognize was the tight knit family of scars; scars she had traced with her eyes for untold years while her Craftworld drifted among the stars.
"I don't blame you Mehsys," said the remnants of what had once been Mehsys' mother as it kept stroking its rotting fingers upon Mehsys' face. Stunned, Mehsys could not utter a word as she watched the grotesque figure of what had been her mother coddle her as if they were back at the arboretum. Anger welled up inside her, mixing with the fear and hopelessness she had embraced earlier. She strained against her bonds, but her captors held her still.
"Why do you fight Mehsys?" Her mother's voice slurred, the tongue wagging in the air within an invisible jaw. The sight made Mehsys sick to her stomach.
"You are not my mother."
"Why do you doubt me, child? Is it perhaps the missing jaw you ripped off?"
A pang of guilt ran through Mehsys' mind at the accusation. She did not remember, but deep inside something stirred. Shame.
"Lies," Mehsys spat.
"Not lies," her mother replied. "Truth."
"Lies!"
Mehsys cried out in rage, causing a blast of air around her that sent the unliving bodies reeling back, freeing her. She didn't have time to think about what had just happened. Her hands now free, she looked around and found the hilt of an old chain blade. Grabbing it in her right hand she revved up the sword, its razor sharp teeth sputtering into action as it tore through crusted mud and dirt that had lodged itself in its crevices. Anger flowed from her into the blade as she stepped into a mindset that once had belonged to a Path she had walked. She could feel rage and bloodlust coursing through her veins, but everything else was silent. No guilt, no grief, no pain. Nothing.
There was freedom in this focus, and Mehsys had missed its presence. Now, like an old flame, it had returned, giving her its undivided attention. Around her the undead bodies were recovering from the earlier shock and heading towards her once more. A hand reached out to tear at her exposed shoulder, but stepping back she swung her blade down across her opponent's arm, severing it from its shoulder in the process. In one continuous move she moved her blade once more up, letting the blade's teeth rip through the torso of her assailant from groin to shoulder. Sparks flew as the sword chewed through armor and flesh was ripped apart, necrotized blood flying into the air.
Another enemy charged from behind, but Mehsys continued her dance, swinging the blade above her head and down onto the helmet of her attacker. Using her leverage she pushed the sword through the head and down its body; the violent and angry screams of the blade making its way through the second opponent with each continuous cycle of its teeth.
Her mind was free. Free from all what happened before. Only thing that mattered was laying waste to all of those that threatened her, and it tethered her to a singular purpose she had lacked up until now. The blade danced in her hand as she tore through several other assailants, their limbs flying into the air with broken pieces of armor following close by. Through it all the chainblade in her arm ran its teeth at incredible speed, sending out a high-pitched scream that served as a warning to all who dared to cross her. No step or swing was wasted, and all tore through unliving flesh as equally as another. Mehsys felt like laughing in sheer joy at the dance of death.
The blade continued to sail through the air, her steps following in trained patterns, even when all her enemies were gone. She didn't care. She didn't want to let this moment slip through her fingers and continued until she felt her body grow heavy and weak from exhaustion. Her breathing was hard and labored as she fell to her knees, the blade falling from hands, going silent. Behind her was a wasteland of limbs and torsos, and Mehsys realized the moment had passed.
In the silence that followed Mehsys could do nothing but catch her breath and let the world back into her mind. The focus and purpose she had attained earlier was gone, and without enemies there was nothing to feed it. She was again alone and lost upon an abandoned world, and the depth of that feeling threatened to crush her once more. If she hadn't been so exhausted by the ordeal earlier she could have cried, but instead she let out a small empty sob.
Her mother's words echoed in her mind and they gnawed at something hidden and buried. Mehsys could feel herself unravel in this god forsaken place, and she wondered if she would be better for it. Her head pulsed with a dull pain as she felt images flash by in an instant; too quick and vague to discern any detail, but awakening patches of memories nonetheless. She had been here before, and she had been here a thousand times after that. Something deep and dark spoke to her, and she knew it to be the truth of the matter: She had always been here.
She had to move on. She needed to get away from this field of carnage, to continue ever forward. She didn't care about answers anymore, only the journey onwards. It's what her mentors had taught her a long time ago, and it had been a guiding principle in her life. Move forward and never look back. The past was the past.
Close by she could see a small path lead up through a nearby ridge and up a slope, the only discernible landmark in this desolate area, the rest being broken and twisted trees that seemed to block all entry except from whence she came. It was too easy and apparent, but being the only way forward it was either to go into the ridge or head back. Knowing what was behind her meant the path ahead was the only meaningful choice.
Walking into the ridge she could feel something prick at her memories, as if it were attempting to tweeze something out she had once forgotten.
The path was worn and downtrodden, as if a thousand people had walked its muddy road, grinding the dirt ever further into the ground creating a hard layer that was almost as hard as the rockbed that lay deep beneath it. The ridge itself served as a natural wall for the path, guiding anyone who followed it onwards. She had been here before, she was sure of it. Looking down she could see the faint footsteps of those that had travelled this road before. Footsteps that were similar to her own.
Her heart started to beat in a quick rhythm as she went deeper into the ridge, her mind screaming at her to turn back. There was a heavy feeling in the air that threatened to squash her. She had been here before, and her amnesia-ridden mind could not block the conditioned response she felt in this place. The path turned here and there as if it were trying to hide the truth from her, but deep inside she knew, and the only thing blocking it was herself.
The path opened to a wide and rocky plateau that towered over a deep and lethal precipice hovering over a dark abyss. A jagged and barren landscape it held no life, its only discerning mark the wild scars and burn marks that ran across the ground. Deep and scorched scars that had been made on the ground with a weapon she knew intimately. A weapon that one would not wield easily as a living creature of flesh and blood.
At the center of the plateau was the thing she had feared subconsciously feared to face, and seeing it once more brought deep anxiety to her weary heart. Memories were trickling in and pieces were being sewn back together in her disarrayed mind. The story was unfolding and she started to miss the amnesia that had entrenched itself in her mind earlier. It had been a blessing in disguise, for the guilt she now felt towards the wraith construct in front of her and herself threatened to consume her.
Its body was made of elegant white wraithbone. A construct so rare and treasured that most never lived to see it, for it needed unique souls of considerable strength, and those only came once in a lifetime. Even in its kneeled state it towered over her, its scarred and burnt right arm gripping a long and mighty wraithblade as if supporting itself after heavy battle. It had the smooth elongated head that was common to all wraith units; a featureless face that betrayed no emotion or intent or the soul behind its faceless facade. It was a living machine, driven by the soul of an Aeldari. It was the body of a wraithseer that her soul had once inhabited; her soul stone powering its majestic frame, and giving her purpose in life after death. Upon its torn sash she could read runes that spelled her name clearly: Mehsys.
For Mehsys it was like looking into a mirror and finally recognizing herself, and with that the memories coalesced into one and she remembered it all. The locks in her mind were undone, and with it the spell that had kept her mind sealed; her spell. Walking around the large construct, inspecting it, she could see black and crimson veins pulsate under its ivory carapace, and they all lead to a single spirit stone that resided in a large cut on its armor; armor that could withstand almost anything except that which now festered in its core.
The spirit stone had once been a succulent green that reminded Mehsys of the vibrant plants of the old arboretum, but now it was being consumed by a rot she had tried to excise a thousand times before. She could not help but sneer at the foul thing as its black veins pulsated in an erratic rhythm, its poison spreading at a glacial pace into the magnificent construct. It had spread too far, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before it corrupted her soul stone entirely; the very essence of her being.
"How does it feel? To see yourself being consumed and corrupted? The inevitability of your fate," the voice had returned from its exile, and Mehsys now knew its purpose and intent. It was an old and malicious force that had haunted and chased her through the past hundred years. It was the rot that infected her soul and committed her to terrible deeds.
"How does it feel to spend a century trapped with me," she replied, not really asking or seeking answers. All of this was her doing, and it had been a desperate ploy in desperate times. When the rot originally set in she had done horrible things without her consent, and only the psychic weave she had made stopped her rampaging and infected body from continuing down its path of destruction; the weave that now trapped her and her opponent for as long as was necessary. She would not allow anyone, or anything, to use her body for killing again.
"How did it feel to cut your comrade in arms, to rip their weak bodies limb from limb, cutting them down where they stood? How did it feel to see your mighty hands crush your own mother?"
It always tried to appeal to her guilt and shame, and always it led her here. She had been trained to ignore such pleas of fear and terror, and with her memories back she ignored the words of the demon with relative ease. True as they were, wallowing over what was done would only serve her invader's cause and she had sworn to never bend under such pressure. She had heard those words again and again over the years and whatever power they had once held was now gone.
She turned around to face her usurper, the demon of her spirit stone. It was a hideous creature of pallid purple, with undecipherable onyx eyes that betrayed no emotion. There was a humanoid aspect to its form, but that's where any similarities ended, for instead of arms it had strange appendages that were larger than any such creature should be able to wield. Even its feets were a mismatch of feet, tentacles, and hooves.
"Does not guil…"
"It will not," Mehsys interrupted, the creature betraying no expression at its prey's obstinence. "I will not cow or bow, or do anything you wish me to suffer. We've been here at this exact place a hundred times over, and not once has your speech swayed me from this path. For it is my path I must tread, and if that means I must contain you within my own soul for a millennium, I will. I am Mehsys, the first daughter of Akaia, and I shall remain your jailer for perpetuity."
It felt good to lecture the daemon, it always did even if it was a pointless gesture, and perhaps even futile. Even now it looked at her with its indiscernible alien eyes. There was no indication it took anything to heart what she had said, and its next moves were predictable. It was a play that they had performed together for a hundred years, and like a play it was a well rehearsed performance that never differed. She would not allow it to.
With its arms spread out for an attack it lunged at her as it let out a horrible and piercing screech. Already she was putting together a powerful weave in her mind, forming syllables that would put a force field between her and the assailing creature. The light shimmered a hazy light blue in front of her, coalescing into a transparent wall as it merged with reality. The creature hit the obstacle with all of its force, squashing its face comically while sending ripples of light out from the center of impact. Mehsys could feel the force of the impact upon her mind as she reinforced the wall, pushing the creature back. It clawed, lashed, and twisted against the forcefield, its mouth open, showing a row of sharp teeth and lashing tongues. Despite its words it was first and foremost a creature of instinct, and it hungered for her soul.
She wondered, as she had many times over, if the creature would ever tire of this game. Would she be the first to give up or the daemon, or would the entire thing last as long as time allowed? Perhaps all of this was an exercise in futility, but she had been trained to resist, and most importantly, she had been taught how to endure.
"Don't," the creature pleaded in a high pitched screech, its form flush against the force field as Mehsys pushed with her mind against the demonic creature. For countless years it had made its last plea, and every time she had ignored its pleas, knowing full well that any mercy she would share with it would not be shared. She always took a bit of pleasure from this part, knowing that her predator was being denied its prey; it invigorated her.
Yet Mehsys knew that she could never dispel this creature completely, otherwise all of this would have ended a long time ago. It was an eternal recurrence the two of them suffered for as long as it was needed; like two dance partners caught in a lethal embrace as their dance continued eternally.
"Wh...why do you persist?" The creature was a pitiful sight, its pleas and questions even more so.
"Why not?" It was a simple answer. She had long tired of trying to answer why, and at this point she did not care. All this had become rote at this point. It was something that had to be done.
She knew that if she didn't finish her weave the creature would make its way through her barrier. Her power was not limitless, and even the last remnants of her withering soul needed to rest. Already she could feel the strain tearing at her, draining her will and energy. Reaching out with her right hand she made gestures in the air as she drew invisible runes. Like before she would seal the creature and allow herself a moment of respite, even if it had consequences for her mind. It would mean cutting herself from all that her spirit stone stored and had been consumed by her foe; her memories.
The forcefield started to coalesce into the solid and intricate form of an ivory portal as the world around her grew dark and grim. Twisted obsidian veins stretched from the forcefield and around her, forming a familiar hall. As the door became more substantial and opaque she could hear the creature's voice grow dimmer, its assault weaker and weaker. It would be some time before it would make itself way through, and as it clawed at the faintly luminescent door it would give Mehsys time to rest, and to gather her strength. Even now she could feel her memories fading, and with it the memory of her mother's face.
With one final push she made the door and hall manifest into a mind prison she would not remember. It was a prison of her own doing. One that cut her from all that she was, and had been, but it would also cut the demon from her, if only for a while. With the last of her strength going into the grim hall around her she could feel herself fall backwards. All of her strength had left her, and closing her eyes she fell into a deep and pleasant darkness, only to be disturbed by the occasional errant thought.