The snowstorm had subsided a little bit now. It was as if the storm itself was tied to Tiohja's life. The fury was ebbing, the energy of the storm slowly drifting away with the snowflakes. Breathing hard the eldar ranger tried to discern if the cries of his pursuers were getting closer or further away. It was still damn near impossible in this weather. A small comfort was that it would also make it very hard for them to find him. Not that it mattered. One glance at the gaping hole in his stomach he desperately tried to cover with his hand told the truth. They got him.

Still in flight mode and desperate to get out of the elements, Tiohja dragged himself into a small crevice on the mountain side. It didn't offer much shelter but was still better than to be out full in the still raging storm. The winds had started to wilt but snow was still pouring down, even the bloody trail he left behind was disappearing before his eyes. No one would ever find his body. Shaking he lifted his bloody hand and down at his wound. The bolter shell that had hit him had not exploded correctly, if it had it would have cut him in two. Still it had left a hole over an a inch wide. His lifespan was now counted in minutes.

Only one thing left to do. Send the report. Every eldar ranger was equipped with a single use warp tunnel transmitter. It opened a miniscule warp hole towards the nearest webway gate, enough to send a spike of data through before collapsing. Tiohja fumbled with his thick gloves and connected the device to his recorder. Send. It hummed for a short while before flashing a green light. That was it. He was done. Exhausted he collapsed onto the snow.

Everything was turning white before Tiohja's eyes. The snow was everywhere. Yet he was warm. The small alcove where he hid was like giant comfortable bed in which he could lie down. Pulling the cover of snow over him he snuggled down into it's embrace and closed his eyes. His stomach didn't even hurt anymore. Tiohja could no longer see the mountain. Or the hear the storm. The cold could no longer touch him. All that was left was the snow. It seemed to stretch on forever in all directions, as if the world was nothing but snow.

As snowflakes gently kissed his face and he drifted further and further away. The wind moved it's silky hands along his body, easing away the hurt and pain of his life. Tiohja welcomed oblivion with open arms. Not that he longed for death, he just didn't have very much to live for. Almost ten years had passed since the love of his life had passed on following the stillbirth of their child, leaving him alone. After that the light had just kind of gone out of him. He did not blame her. But he did miss her. At least he would die serving his people.

Some say you see your life flashing before you when you die. Tiohja didn't. He just saw Itilith, the shy bonesinger that for a time made his life worth living walking out of the eternal snowy field. Her step was careful as always, as if she worried that the ground itself would be offended by her touch. She wore a simple dress as white as the snow itself. And a smile. Her long raven hair was loose and free. Dying wasn't that bad he thought. Reality swam and wavered before his eyes like little fishes.

The snow's previous so subtle kisses were turning fierce. No longer nature's friendly pecks. Now it showered him with the kind of kiss you pour your heart and desires into. An aching, hungry longing beast of a kiss. The way you kiss when the lights are out and the darkness starts to radiate a heat of it's own. Only one person Tiohja knew kissed like that. In his dream he rolled her over and felt her body respond as he lowered the weight of his body onto hers. She gasped in delight and her nimble fingers started tearing at his clothes like starved wolves. Words were whispered into his ear that made him forget that he had ever been cold. Through the haze her eyes bored into him, full of challenge and fire. Tiohja let that fire wash over him and drain the last of his consciousness.

When we woke again I seemed to him that he was quite certain that he had died with his boots on. Not to mention his pants. That he would dream of Itilith in his dying moments was perhaps not that surprising. That she would still be there when he woke up somewhat more so. Lying on her side next to him her eyes still bored into him, albeit with the fire temporarily slaked. She was still wearing her smile but not much else.

"Good morning sleepyhead". She placed a finger on the tip of Tiohja's nose.

"How...what...where?" was the most romantic response he was able to muster. But her finger simply slid down to his lips, sealing them.

"Shhh love. This is not a moment for the head. This a moment for the heart" she sighed happily and snuggled into his embrace. Lying next to her with nothing between them confirmed to Tiohja that this must still be a dream. Skin to skin, her hair splayed across his chest, her smell in his mind. It could not be real. They laid there in silence for what seemed like an eternity, just holding each other.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stay with you. I'm sorry I left you with nothing but pain." Itilith finally said in a quiet voice. Tiohja could feel tears on his chest.

"It was not your fault. I was...me. I wasn't strong enough. That is why she died. I killed her" he let the words out hoping that the hurt would go with them. It didn't. The death of their child was a wound too deep to just close. Still as they both cried together over what had been lost a hope emerged that it would at least scar over. When the tears would not come any more Itilith got up and sat down on her knees. She looked at him with sad eyes.

"That is what I am most sorry and ashamed for. That you lived your entire life thinking that."

"Come! There is someone I want you to meet" She slid her dress over her head. Tiohja put on his pants again. For the first time he noticed the space around him. Everything was white as far as the eyes could see. No sky, no horizon. Barely a ground. Just...white.

"Where are we?" he gaped in awe.

"In a little piece of the world that has fallen between the chairs" she smiled and led him away by the hand. After a while she stopped him and put her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm.

Sitting on the white ground wearing a simple roughspun dress was a little girl about ten years old. She was reading a cheap looking book, her nose almost in the pages. Beside her, sprawled on the floor laid a well worn handmade doll. Tiohja just stared. The girl flicked the page of the book she was reading, licking her finger before she turned the page. Just like he did.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Tiohja looked at the little girl. She had his wild mousy hair. His brown eyes. Itilith's heart shaped face. Itilith's mouth and nose. And slightly uneven slightly crooked ears, from where she had gotten those he had no idea. His head told him that the girl would never be a beauty in the classic sense. But his heart swelled in agreement with his wife.

"I thought...I thought she was a dream" he stammered.

"She is" his wife confirmed with warmth in her voice.

It was all too much for Tiohja. Dying, seeing Itilith again. And now this. He let go of his wife's hand, head spinning.

"But...but it can't be! This isn't real! We are dead!" he almost pleaded. "And she... she was never even born!" But Itilith just grabbed his hands again, steadying him.

"Yes. You got shot. I slit my own throat. She was stillborn. Out there we are broken beyond repair." Itilith pointed out towards nowhere and then shook her head. "Not in here. This place is...in between. A lost place where the dead can live again once last time. Saved for this very moment." Her voice was serene. She looked him straight in the face the way she did when something was important to her. "For one night only she has put down her burden to be with us. For one night only what could have been comes to life. Don't you want to spend that one night as a family before we move on?"

"I do. More than anything" Once again Tiohja's heart overruled any objections his head might have had.

"That is what I thought." she smiled and hugged him tight. Then she called out: "Ynnie sweetie please come here". It was the first time he had heard Itilith speak to anyone but him. The girl made a small sound in annoyment, not lifting her eyes of the pages.

"But mummy I am just getting to the good part!" the girl stomped her foot at the cruel unfairness of her mother's outrageous demand.

"Ynnead" her mother simply responded with the slightest hint of a warning in her voice.

That name. Neither of them really knew what it meant. They had heard it in an old song at a festival. Tiohja later wished he had asked the performer about it. Nor had they immediately known that was 'the' name for them. It had just kind of stuck around and in the end it was the only one left. Stubborn. Refusing to be dismissed. Last one standing. A very fitting name. Just hearing it spoken with anything but grief lifted a stone from Tiohja heart.

The girl folded her book and got to her feet, rolling her eyes. She left the doll on the floor and stomped over to her parents.

"What?" She glared at them both with big brown angry eyes.

Itilith elbowed Tiohja lightly in the ribs. A quick glance passed between mother and daughter. Tiohja cleared his throat. What do you say to your dead daughter who turned into a god?

"What...are you reading?" he tried.

"The lusty orcish maiden and her virile stablemaster" Ynnead casually read of the cover.

"Oh, how nice...wait what? The what and her what?" Tiohja grabbed the book. The cover held the picture of what has undoubtedly meant to be a handsome orc. His bare chest and flowing long hair was admired by a scantily dressed young lady, also an orc. He took a deep breath and unwillingly frowned. For a moment he actually forgot everything around them and was just a parent chastising his child.

"Where did you..."When he looked up he saw Ynnead was red in the face, holding her breath. Upon seeing his expression she exploded in laughter. Even the otherwise calm Itilith burst out laughing.

"Very funny" He thrust the book back towards his daughter. She gladly accepted it, winking back at him.

"I'm sorry, she insisted" Itilith giggled and shrugged her shoulders. As sour a face as Tiohja made part of of him was relieved. Deep down he hated formal welcomes and farewells where no one knew what to say. Nothing breaks the ice quite like a half naked orc. And Tiohja found that being the butt of a joke isn't so bad when your two best girls are laughing.

"They say the sequel 'The horny eldar mother and her willing ranger lovetoy' is even better. I heard two people advertising for it just a while ago." Ynnead exclaimed happily.

"YNNEAD!" Itilith's face turned first white then red. This time it was Tiohja's turn to chuckle. Their daughter looked very pleased with herself. Standing on her tippie toes and kissed him on his cheek, her arms around his neck. Instinctively he hugged his daughter back. She was so small. He got rewarded with another kiss and a whisper. "I told you I would be waiting for you. Welcome home."

And so the afternoon went on. They read stories. Played games. Itilith sang, Tiohja talked about his travels. And about their history together. Their daughter sat in mesmerized attention as Tiohja described his and Itilith first date. She snuggled up into their lap as they read stories about ancient eldar heroes. And managed to beat them in hide and seek every time. How she managed to hide in the completely white space Tiohja would never know. When they played games he was also quite sure Ynnead cheated. Sometimes subtly and sometimes blatantly. But not a single win was fair.

But he appreciated it. For within the cheating, the questions and the cuddles he got a glimpse of who he daughter really was. That she had a mischievous streak was hard to miss but there was a quiet almost sad undercurrent to her personality that she allowed them to see. Despite everything some part of her really was a child who just longed to be with her family. A thoughtful, worried girl who sometimes got overwhelmed and didn't have a place to hide. Someone who had grown used to crying alone when the world turned against her. At one point she buried her face into Itilith dress and didn't seem to want to come out. So they just held her and stroked her hair.

Of course sometimes it felt forced and artificial. Bonds long lost do not reconnect instantly. But at times it was genuine and natural. And every such moment was priceless. It was but a shadow of what could have been, but it was enough. The whole family understood that this was all they were going to get. And they made the most of it.

As the day began to wind to a close Ynnead decked out a small meal for them. She guided them enthusiastically towards small pillows laid out on the ground. The food was unknown to them both, smelling of unknown spices and herbs. The daughter explained that it was a ancient traditional ceremonial meal. They both got the feeling she was intentionally vague regarding the details of the ceremony.

"No, Mummy you sit here. Daddy you sit there." They sat down. Itilith squeezed his hand and smiled. Ynnead gestured to them to tried the tea she had poured for them. It tasted strangly flowery but not unpleasant. After anxiously appraising their initial reaction Ynnead looked pensive for a moment. Then she picked up a basket of steaming bread that gave off a spicy warm aroma. She breathed in the vapours and nodded to herself.

"Let's start with this! I baked it myself!" She started handing out the scolding hot pieces of bread.

Then all the sudden she stopped. Dropped the basket. The previously excited face had turned ash white. Her expression was that of a mirror shattered, eyes fixed at a point behind her parents.

Tiohja frowned and glanced over his shoulder. What could cause her such worry? At the distance an hourglass shaped figure was striding into the white space. The perspective distorted as the figure casually paraded into view, swaying her hips with every step. With just a few steps the figure was growing from a black little spec into towering over them all. A heavy step crushed the face of the doll Ynnead had left behind.

"No...no...look away. LOOK AWAY!" Ynnead screamed.

Itilith threw Tiohja to the ground and placed her hand over his eyes. The world went dark.

The mice are having a little party. And she is not invited? An offended sultry voice screeched in the minds of god and dead alike. At the same time a sweet nauseating smell rolled over them, threatening to overpower their senses.

"Run! RUN! And whatever you do don't turn around!" Ynnead said in a quick tight voice. With eyes clenched shut Tiohja grabbed Itilith hand and scrambled away.

Leaving already? But the party has just started!

"Leave them alone! There is nothing here for you." Ynnead placed herself between her parents and the newcomer.

A whole family of mice? How adorable! Should she eat them? A vicious laughter rang through the ether like a thousand church bells right behind your eyes. Tiohja stumbled and fell. He could feel the blood on his knees as he got up again, Itilith urging him on in a panic. Behind them Ynnead held the line. Her response came quick and sharp, like it passed directly from heart to tongue without passing the brain.

"Big words for a slow learner. As I remember it last time you choked on me."

The newcomer hissed and stomped in anger.

"Oh you remember that do you? I thought you might." There was a whooshing sound and from nowhere the wind seemed picked up. For a moment Tiohja thought he could smell smoke in the air. Then Ynnead seemed to change her mind and tone, from a cocky provocative into the voice of someone who is trying to calm a wild animal. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"I'm sorry. But we already been through this once. Fighting is meaningless. We are the same. We are family. Sisters. Remember?"

NO! NOT SISTERS! The cry was full of rage and jealousy. The sheer amount of emotion almost made Tiohja pass out. They had all but stopped running, their energy sapped by the overwhelming new presence. Instead the former lovers huddled together on the ground. Eyes shut tightly.

"Fine then! Be like that. Deny it like you deny everything else. Like your smell. You stink like a skunk in heat, do you know that? Ever thought of taking a bath?" Ynnead gagged theatrically, the quick spiteful tone back in her voice. It was clear that she was trying to be calm, collected and mature. And she was failing horribly. The newcomer was circling around Ynnead who moved along, keeping her back towards her parents.

She will eat the mouse's family first. Alive. And the mouse will watch.

For a moment of terror Tiohja could hear the sound of heavy hoofsteps coming closer. Then in an instant, just behind them, there was sound as if a door slammed shut between parents and child. The sudden sound caused Tiohja to open his eyes. And where there but a moment ago had been nothing there was now a wooden door. Not a wall mind you, just a door standing by itself it the middle of the white space. It seemed simple enough with a small brass handle but somehow blocked out both the newcomer and Ynnead with it's frame.

The handle turned slowly but the door would not open. Someone turned the handle forcefully and pushed but the door would not budge. A large shadow moved under the doorframe. Then there was a deafening crash and the entire frame shock. But still it would not open. More crashes and blows rained upon the wooden frame. But it would not relent. The shadow move, trying to get around the door. But the door simply moved along, always separating Tiohja and Itilith from the others. After a while a roar of frustration rang out.

"Neet little trick right? It will only open for me and mine. And as you just renounced all kinship with me..." Ynnead responded smugly.

Keeping the family out keeps the mouse in. With her.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" the death goddess snorted. "Kill me and you know I will drag you down with me, kicking and screaming. And as long as I am here you will never have them." She put great emphasis on the word never. "So are you ready to die for them? Because I am."

Tiohja wanted to scream to her to run and abandon them but before he could draw a breath the cruel voice hammered against his mind again, knocking the wind out of him. He sagged against the door. Itilith was next to him, stroking his hair.

The mouse is clever. Clever clever CLEVER! What will she do, what will she do?

"There is nothing you can do. But leave." Pride and overconfidence had crept into the child's voice.

If the mouse is not for eating...then perhaps for play?

First there was short silence. Then a burst of lightning fast movement as shadows moved under the door. Then the silence was sliced in half by a high pitched scream. The scream of a child. Tiohja reached for the door but Itilith embrace tightened, holding him in place. Once the scream subsided a panting voice sneered back.

"Have you gone totally insane you self deluded half wit? You will kill us both!"

She would never kill the mouse. Just have some fun with it!

"Then you are wasting time. I will not fight you." The child grunted in pain. "Nor will not let you have them! So do your worst!" Ynnead spat in defiance. Probably in the face of her attacker.

Another sharp scream exploded into the infinite space. After a while it drowned out in a rasping gurgle. Something was dripping onto the floor. Tiohja tried to move but Itilith held him down in a vice that he didn't think was possible. There was a small gentle knock on the door.

She wonders: What kind of father does the mouse have?

"NO! Don't listen to..." Ynnead shout was cut short. There was a horrible sound, like someone wringing out a wet towel. Something wet splashed onto the ground.

THE MOUSE WILL BE SILENT! There was a deep thud as a body hit the ground. Hard. Then that voice rang out again, just beyond the door.

Now! She thinks: What kind of father cowers on the ground as his daughter suffers?

Tiohja had never known his father. Someone his mother had met on one of her travels. While the man had never had a chance to be in his life he still blamed him in his absence. And when Itilith was revealed as a soulforger he had swore to himself he would do better.

She is sure: A father who does this must not care about his daughter very much!

A series of deep thumps rang out. They never seemed to stop. But for each one they gained a wetter and wetter timbre. This time there was no scream. Tiohja froze with terror. Why was there no scream? Itilith tried to whisper something to him but he could not grasp it. It was as if the only thing he could hear was the suffering of his stillborn child. A small stream of cold red blood trickled from under the door.

She wonders: Perhaps the father is ashamed of the mouse? Dirty and small. Not elegant. Not pretty. Not special. Not. Thump. So. Thump. Clever. Thump. Anymore. Splash. Does he wish her to dispose of it? Throw it in the trash?

"No! No please! Please..." Tiohja sobbed. He started to rise but Itilith threw herself onto him to keep him down. She spoke word that his mind would not listen to. Words that told him to let the horrors continue.

He speaks! She only wants to talk. Face to face. And then the mouse does not have to suffer. She will stop if he asks her to her face. But soon! If he wants there to be anything left of the mouse... Something was shuffling on the ground, away from them.

Oh no no no! The mouse must stay here! She wonders how the mouse will crawl if she break it's little legs. Oh how she wonders? She must know! The sheer enjoyment in the voice caused Tiohja to vomit onto the ground. Even as her legs snapped Ynnead didn't scream, she just let go of tiny a suppressed grunt. Itilith held onto him so hard it hurt. He tried to shut his eyes but the darkness behind his shut eyelids was oppressive, bearing down on him. Calling him a coward.

The mouse does not want to talk anymore? But it is still looking at her with those eyes. She thinks: the eyes must go. Yes! It is for the best!

"NOOO!" Tiohja wrestled free of Itilith's grasp at last and rose. Fists clenched, roaring in anger. He might be powerless in the face of whatever was tormenting Ynnead but he could not let this continue anymore and still keep his soul. He tore open the door.

"You want me you beast? Then you..." And then his eyes fell upon her. He had never seen such perfection. In that single moment his life became complete. All the anger and fear of his life melted away before her gaze.

"...you can have me."

Rising well over three meters of the white ground stood the most beautiful thing that existed. Slender hooves gave way to luscious legs between which the center of all the world's desire rested. The marbled black and pink skin rose like fire over the goddess hairless naked body, over the heaving breasts and kissing the swanlike neck before coming to rest in her radiant red eyes. Atop of her head she wore the crown of beauty: Two magnificent horns that twisting up from her flawless form, completing perfection itself. This was Slaanesh in all her magnificence, She Who Thirsts, doom of the Eldar. Awash in blood from head to toe. But to Tiohja that only added to her beauty. For to look upon her is to lose your soul.

The only thing that fouled the picture was the ugly broken toy at her feet. It's mouth moved as it reached out for Tiohja. A thin smoky tendril formed between them. Suddenly he felt uneasy about the scenery. It was as if the paint was starting to peel from the perfect being in front of him. And his eyes widened in horror as he started to see what was underneath.

She thinks the mouse should go to sleep now

A heavy hoof came down fragile neck with a crunch and the ugly thing fell still. The smoky tendril vanished and the world returned to it's polished perfect state before Tiohja eyes. Slaanesh looked back at him with a vapid look, pouting her mouth and looking sad.

She does not like being called a beast. It makes her sad.

Tiohja fell to his knees, bursting into tears. How could he have offended such a creature? Was he a brute without the slightest emotion within? Still standing in the doorway he bowed his head as in prayer.

"Tell me what I must do, mistress! I will do anything! Anything!"

Slaanesh stretched out her arms and licked her lips. Batting her eyelids she whispered in a shy voice.

She needs a hug to feel better

He wanted nothing more than to race towards her. But something stopped him. Something had reached out and grabbed Tiohja from behind. What insolence! It was some old disgusting thing, screaming nonsense. One good forceful kick to the head and it let go, whimpering back in pain. Tiohja quickly got to his feet and ran towards perfection. In just a few steps he was there, falling into her waiting embrace. Pleasure exploded in his body like electricity as she touched him. Her arms closed around him and covered him in blood.

She is happy! But to you know how she would be even happier?

Nothing have ever held Tiohja focus such as this. He longer for the next word so that he could be of service. Reluctantly he let go of her embrace so she could show him. Slaanesh spun around in an elaborate pirouette, laughing. Her hands outstretched she highlighted him the scene around her.

She wants to continue painting! Such a pretty pretty picture!

The white space was splashed with dark red blood. It was art such as have never been seen. Slaanesh prodded Ynnead's prone body with her hoof. The girl didn't move.

But this jar has run out. How can she finish the painting without paint?

The chaos god hung her head and her divine posture slumped. Tiohja's heart ached with artificial pain. But then her face lit up again.

But she spies with her little eye another jar! Right over there!

Cheekily Slaanesh pointed a slender clawed hand towards the cowering Itilith who had crawled after him through the door, covering her eyes with her hand. Blindly she fumbled around for him, sobbing and calling out. Of course! How could Tiohja have missed that? Merrily he strode over and grabbed the living can of paint by the hair.

"No no no no no" the paintcan yammered as it struggled to escape his grasp. It begged Tiohja to stop and asked him to remember. But what was there to remember? He looked up and saw his mistress beckoning him back. That was all he needed. There was nothing but the magnificent one in his mind and heart. With an immense sense of pride he dragged his sobbing and pleading discarded lover back towards the goddess. He threw the shaking eldar at Slaanesh feet and was rewarded with a passionate kiss. Pleasure bloomed like fireworks within him.

Now she can finish the painting!

Slaanesh looked upon the finished piece and was pleased. There was such beauty in the death of hope and the crippling of fragile things. And of course the desecration of that which had been pure. Now even the memory of this place would be tainted forever. Today, once again chaos stood triumphant. All that was left now was how to top it all off. The solution came to her with a savage smile.

It is done. Does he like it?

"It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen" Tiohja's eyes shone with fanatical fervor, saliva running from the corners of his mouth.

She has to go. But she will come for him again. She promises...

Slaanesh let her hand brush Tiohja's stomach as she walked past, smiling. Before leaving the hoofed monstrosity squated over the broken unconscious body of the little girl. An acrid sharp smell mixed with the sweet sticky smell of blood. Tiohja watched it all in awe, his eyes blank. Having signed her artwork the victorious beast rose and spoke one last time.

She thinks: she does not have to kill the mouse. The mouse should know. There are worse things than death.

Then she was gone. Tiohja was left alone. Staring after her as she pranced away into the white eternity, leaving red hoofprints behind.

Staring after what? Where was he? His mind was...hazy. Cloudy. Like he was waking from a fever dream. Something cold fell on his nose. A snowflake. He looked up. Snow was falling from above. From far away he could hear a fierce wind howling. Still drowsy Tiohja rubbed his face in his hands but immediately withdrew them. As his did so he banged his head against the mountain wall behind him. Why was there blood on his hands? He fumbled for his stomach. There was no wound there anymore. Whose blood was this? Attempting to dry of the blood on the snow he reached down. But on the ground he found something else. A torn, blood stained white dress. He looked around a little further and found a broken doll, the delicate porcelain face crushed in.

Something about them seemed...familiar.

Above him the storm was picking up again, reaving with mountain with slashes of wind. Stormclouds roared and lightning flashed. In a small mercy it drowned out his despair as he remembered.