Many years before Imisha fought for her life in the crumbling temple

Ynnead stepped into the jet black dome, her small naked feet reluctantly making their way into her birthplace. Her head was bowed and her fists were clenched in barely suppressed panic. She was walking towards her end, that much was certain. No matter what lies she had told her surrogate father she knew there would be no happy ending to her story. She had said her goodbyes at the entrance of temple, while she still had her wits and could hold back the tears.

One would think that for a goddess of the veil death would come naturally. But for all her might Ynnead was but a child, an unfinished work, alone in a dark universe with scarce few allies. The little goddess found that death was a somewhat different concept when it was her own. Death was truly an abomination, she mused, like herself. Her stomach churned at the thought of the innocent lives she had ripped apart and consumed.

Within her soul, she held the lone flickering flame of hope for her people. A flame that would now be utterly extinguished. They would fade away, consumed by the void, their only legacy the abominations they had set loose in the galaxy. The promise of what they could be, what they once were, in the very beginning, before they were turned into a weapon of war, would be lost forever.

For it was not her death so much as her failure that Ynnead lamented. She had not even gotten started. The time she had been given had been wasted, spent away from her people hiding on some godforsaken rock at the edge of the galaxy. Afraid to face her own people and destiny. She still remembered the first time she had glimpsed one of her kin, a hard-faced scarred pirate who had been selling slaves in the market. The shock of seeing him sent her into hiding for a week, shivering in the deepest cellar of the theatre.

Once again she found herself face to face with her kin. The circle of statuses that enclosed her birthplace stared down at her. The Eldar pantheon, now long dead and gone. Grime and ash had coated the statuses with a thick layer of dirt that made them all but indistinguishable from each other. But Ynnead instinctively knew them anyway. It was in her blood.

Thick tentacles of smoke snaked from her body and started to gently clean the dirt off the nearest statue. Underneath the filth, a naked majestic figure started to emerge. High cheekbones, long flowing hair and elegant curves. From her slender toes to the tips of her full breasts to her warm smile the mother of the Eldar, the goddess of life was the epitome of perfection. Her face told a story of calm pride. Proud of the life and light she had ushered into the world, passed beyond the veil with her purpose fulfilled.

Next to this real goddess, the fake dirty little goddess of death looked like a poor joke. Thin and flat yet a little pudgy like only a child can be, hair standing on end in all directions, stubborn jaw set in envy. Standing in front of her elder sister in shame, her purpose spoiled, a failure in every sense of the word. Isha reminded Ynnead of everything she was not. Once the smoked had finished clearing the statue Ynnead just stood there, staring up into the stony face above her.

"I failed," she uttered at last. The blackness of the cave swallowed her small words instantly.

"I am a failure." Ynnead let the words sink in. She lowered her head in shame. Then she jerked it up again. Black fire flashed in her eyes.

"Why did you leave me all alone?" She snarled at the statue, tears running down her cheeks. Sparks of pure darkness flew from her eyes as she spoke.

"Why am I the one who must do everything? Save everyone? Alone!?" Ynnead whirled around, hungry smoke flying in all direction, tearing at the grime covering the remaining statues. This time any gentleness was gone from her touch. A storm of stone flew into the air as the statues were stripped naked before her. In defiance, Ynnead stared at her brothers and sisters, her eyes moving from statue to statue.

"Warrior. Hunter. Smith." She turned back to Isha and spat in frustration. "Fucking mega milk little miss perfect."

"Anyone of you must surely be better suited for this task than I am. The child, the unfinished one." She stabbed a finger towards the cradle in the centre of the ring of statues. "Your own words! Remember? So perhaps one of you could lend me a little hand?" The statues stared back at her in silence.

"Anyone? Just a little?" Ynnead's voice was cracking as if part of her was hoping the stone would really answer her. "I could really use it"

But the reserve was a compact as the gloom.

"Well fuck you then! Fuck you and fuck your destiny!" In the blink of an eye, a thick smoky tendril had wrapped itself around Isha's throat. Stone snapped and splintered as the statue tore free from its base and hovered in the air before the Eldar child. Then with a screech, Ynnead shattered the statue. Eyes blazing she turned her gaze towards the other statuses, filling the air with dust and the sound of crushing stone. When it settled she was the only one left standing.

Panting, her rage spent, Ynnead was suddenly filled with regret. In her head, she could hear her orcish father scolding her for actions. Funny, the closest thing she had ever had to a family wasn't even of her own kin. What did she really owe these people? The shattered face of Isha stared up at her from the ground. She found she hated it.

"You are sick is what you are. The lot of you. Filling me with needs I can't possibly fulfil. Redeem. Liberate. Hunger. Kill." Ynnead swallowed hard and continued in a whisper. "Grow up. Live."

"I can't save them. Can't save anything. I can't. All I can do is destroy." Ynnead dried her tears and directed her blazing gaze back towards the statues.

"I refuse to be your doomsday weapon. I won't drag the rest of the galaxy down with me just because we are fucked up. As long as it was just our own people I could try my best. I was fine with sacrificing myself upon your altar to try to right our wrongs. I was still going to fail but at least I would die in an attempt to make this galaxy a better place."

"But there are others out there. Others that have no part in our sin. Others that I...I have now fed upon." Fierce conviction found the little goddess once again.

"ALL life is sacred. But I guess you have conveniently forgotten that. But I still remember." Ynnead's robe exploded from her body in a flash of smoke sending shards of cloth spinning in all directions. When the smoke subsided Ynnead stood as naked as the statues had been. Yet she was not like them. Her hands, face and feet were smooth-skinned, her ears pointed and her eyes sharp. But down her chest and back ran a series of markings consisting of dark grey dull scales and tiny white feathers. Like the rest of her, they were neither elegant nor beautiful. There was no pattern or design to them, like a child's clumsy painting. Man, bird and snake all moulded into one with the humanoid part just barely emerging as dominant.

Ynnead strode over to her cradle and placed her hand upon it. Her fingers traced the inscription in the stone. "Unfinished you call me. Well if you are the finished product then I think I'll pass." The goddess lifted her head again and steeled herself.

"I'm going to the human god to confess my sins. He will judge me and make sure I hurt no one else." The small head scanned the darkness, sniffing the air. Her gaze settled on the giant pile of stone in the very centre of the dome. Tentacles of smoke once again flew from her body, tearing a tunnel into the rock as she strode forwards.

"Goodbye. I am sorry I failed you. I am sorry that I am a failure."

There was a flash of light from the tunnel as Ynnead stepped through the webway portal buried deep within the rubble. For a split second, there was stillness.

Then the shadows started to move. An undulating laugh rang out in the chamber. A masked man stepped out from the darkness just beyond the ring of ruined statuses.

"Oh, my dear little sister. Finally, at long last, I have found you. And aren't you a feisty yet troubled one? Not a failure at all, you are just what I hoped you would be."

The man picked up a piece of a shattered statue. The shattered face was also wearing a mask. One half was smiling, the other crying. Just like the man.

"Neither are you alone."

From all around him hundreds of Eldar emerged from the shadows. All wearing masks and flowing colourful capes that exploded into fragments of light when they moved. The lead man threw down the broken piece of the statue and turned around towards his kin.

"We have work to do."