A/N: Hey, guess what everyone? It's time for everyone's favorite eldar! :D
Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 33: The Shadowalker
"These walls were not built from the songs of Il-Kaithe. They are not towering monuments, nor expressions of artistic mastery. They are beautiful in their humbleness, waves of bone upon a sea of grass." - Bonesinger Rhona
Dolone shone under the morning's simulated sun, elegant wraithbone spires given new life by the light of dawn. Maion breathed deep, relishing in the sight she knew so well. She knelt atop the compound's garden, in her third cycle of meditation. The beauty of Il-Kaithe always helped sharpen her mind. In the atrium below, a convalescing Juros played with his children, accompanied by his life-companion Melisadra. Most eldar would find the shrieks and fits of laughter a distraction, an inconsiderate and unacceptable display of frivolity. Such concerns were not shared by Maion.
Around her, the Tou'Her awoke, stirring from their slumber to go about their business. They shared greetings, ate food, enjoyed the peace of a bright morning. Mirodir awaited her on the training grounds.
Standing, she sighed and stretched. Watching her family, Maion smiled. Today would be the day she found her semblance. It had been two months since she began her training with Mirodir, each day focused on growing stronger. Mother told her that each individual's semblance was different, a part of their will, a consummate expression of their soul.
Descending the stairs, she allowed Juros' youngest to pounce on her, wrapping his arms around her neck.
"I've got you, Auntie Maion!" He cried with glee. A boy of only ten passes, he was the youngest of the Tou'Her.
"Well struck, little one," she replied with a smile. Swinging him around and planting him on his feet, she teased his spiky blonde hair into a mockery of order. "You will make a fine warrior someday." His emerald eyes glowed at that, and he beamed.
"Truly?"
"Of course. You are young however, and have many Paths to walk before you tread the Warrior's." He looked dejected for a moment, his blatant display of disappointment childish and amusing. Maion smiled. "Though we at the Shadowed Sword could always use a talented young one such as yourself." His chest swelled with pride, and his face flushed with excitement. Rushing forward, he embraced her. Laughing, she returned the gesture. "And take care once you do walk the Warrior's Path," she added. "A war-mask is a terrible, powerful thing." Looking up at her with glowing eyes, he nodded, stern and silent.
"Cellacar, leave your Aunt be." Looking up, Maion saw her nephew's mother, Juros' wife. Once an outsider to the family, Melisadra was now a proud mother to three of its members. Like all those that joined the family via marriage, she was a different breed of eldar. Most of Il-Kaithe were disgusted by their presence, but there were always those intrigued by the clan of soul-wielders, fascinated by their prowess and ability.
"The boy has done no wrong, Melisadra," Maion said with a smile. "He is simply an aspiring warrior." As many of the Tou'Her before him, so too did Cellacar dream of wielding his unique talents to defend their craftworld and crusade across the stars.
"Thanks, auntie," he said, still beaming.
"You have been meditating for a long time," Melisadra said, beckoning her son over to her. "I would hate for your state of mind to falter." Breathing in the atmosphere of the atrium, Maion shook her head. As always, the fountains gurgled and purred their watery hum, accompanied by the joyous cries of Cellacar's brothers.
"I am quite well, thank you," she replied. Her mind sang its serenity, ringing with the simple joys of realized purpose and a healthy home.
"What has roused you, sister?" Juros asked, approaching her. His arm was bound in a tightly-wound brace that matched his loose-fitting robes. Miniscule drops of blood speckled the red-and-gold cloth, crystallized into studs of crimson. Like Maion, Autarch Elladar sent him to do battle with the forces of Josephus, where he had been wounded by a brace of crude bullets.
"Mirodir awaits me in the training grounds." With just a few words, Maion now commanded the attention of every Tou'Her present. Those that had just awoken turned to her with undisguised interest, their eyes set alight.
"Your semblance?" Melisadra inquired, her interest indicated by an upturned eyebrow. Though she currently walked the Path of the Mother, her days as a Swooping Hawk lived through her in the sharp angle of her eyes, her nose upturned like a hunting hound's. She was no longer an outsider to the family, and she knew the significance of her statement.
Maion nodded. "It is past time I discovered it. I have walked upon the Path of the Warrior for thirty passes, and it is time I progress beyond what the Shadowed Sword offers." Leaving to don a more suitable garment, she addressed her well-wishers with words of thanks and a warm smile.
She slipped inside her room, a small apartment attached to the main house. It was still and quiet, radiant light piercing through the intricate curtains that bled the light of a false sun onto her few belongings. A few bits of marble and clay stood scattered about, as her days as a Sculptor yielded meagre results, though she kept her favorite piece - a woman wreathed in formless black silk, her arm outstretched behind her, lips turned to a harlequin's grimace. A work wholly outside the norm of her peers, one her mentor regarded with equal parts awe and uneasiness.
Other than the statues and a few serene ink paintings, the room was bare. Neat. Orderly. There were no children to attend to, no life-companion to muss her sheets. One day, perhaps. But now, she thought, slipping on her skin-tight sparring gear, duty and honor call.
When she emerged, she found a small crowd had gathered in the atrium, whispering in hushed tones. The music of their speech was a coarse but silent river, hissing with speed and roaring with power.
"Juros, have you all come to watch?" She asked. It was not uncommon for the Tou'Her to gather in appreciation of their soul-wielding, enjoy the spectacle and majesty of aura-enchanced combat. But so many… Most of her siblings were away, but Phyladra and Asuriel were present, along with a veritable host of aunts, uncles, and cousins, all milling in the atrium.
"We have… but there's been a development." His darting eyes betrayed his nervousness. Honed by passes upon passes of training, Maion discerned their target - an elegantly dressed figure that stood outside the compound, his demeanour calm and collected.
"Autarch Elladar?" Shock spread its way through her, settling on her hackles like a current of electricity. He gave a small bow, bestowing them all with a placid smile.
"Greetings of the new cycle to you. Mirodir has invited me into your home to attend this… awakening." More flitted voices accompanied this declaration, ones steeped with suspicion and confusion. No one visited the Tou'Her compound. And to observe their soul-wielding, no less. Many turned to Maion, awaiting her reaction. Though unaware of her brothers intentions (and much less certain of Elladar's arrival), she gave her commander a polite bow.
"Greetings of the new cycle to you as well, my Lord. Welcome into our humble home," she said, gesturing towards the practice field. "We're about to begin." Nodding, the Autarch stepped through the gate, appraising the small crowd and the unique peacefulness of the atrium. "I hope Mirodir told you that you might not witness what you came here for?" Maion said, escorting him to the practice field.
"He did."
"And you came regardless?" She asked. He smiled, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a display of sincere geniality.
"Of course. In truth, my presence here was more my doing then his, as I have my own reasons for attending. But an opportunity to watch the… fabled Tou'Her in action is not one lightly come upon." His words sent a murmur of wariness through the family. They knew his words were banal and harmless, but the hesitation was unmaskable.
Approaching the rear of the compound, Maion and company reached the gate of the training field, wraithbone gates embossed with waystones and intricate carvings that illuminated the Tou'Her's history. Reaching out, Maion's fingers caressed the wraithbone, the touch familiar and resonating with the echoes of her kin. Aunt Rhona had wrought them, and her voice was the strongest of them all. Though her spirit lived on in the Infinity Circuit, the echo of her life unwound at Maion's touch, sending warm red lines spiralling across the doors. She'd spent many years of her life constructing the compound, the place she raised her children, instructed Maion during her brief walk down the Path of the Seer. Closing her eyes, she could hear her Aunt's laughter, feel her heart swell at the sight of her children.
The gates opened, revealing the field. Surrounded by a tangled mess of wraithbone pillars that casted shadows across the grass that shifted in an artificial breeze. Mirodir was there, his back to her.
"Brother."
"Ah. Ready to begin?" He asked, stirring from his seat.
"Yes." Despite the unexpected arrival of the Autarch, her mind was the surface of a reflection pool, still and peaceful. Her semblance awaited her. She knew it.
"The let us begin," he said, standing. His ebony hair was tied tight against his scalp, his eyes narrowed and focused. As the head of the Tou'Her and its most eminent soul-wielder, it was his duty to aid the rest of the family in matters of the soul… and trial by fire was the most common method of unlocking semblances. Her family stilled behind her, settling into a respectful silence.
"I don't see any weapons…" Autarch Elladar remarked before being hushed by Cellacar. The child's insubordination released a ripple of amusement through the small crowd, one that even Maion smiled at. Uncle Garnet is a bad influence on that one. Stepping forward, she sunk low to the ground. Coiled. Ready to strike.
Mirodir matched her, and their auras activated. It was time.
For a heartbeat, neither moved, brother and sister appraising each other as combatants. True to her nature as a Striking Scorpion, Maion moved first. Her feet swept across the grass, and a fist swung around to take Mirodir unawares. His arm knocked it aside, and he countered with a quick jab to her ribs. She danced away, her coiled form skidding to a halt. A test.
Maion burst forward once more, unrestrained and blindingly fast. Her aura pushed her speed beyond the capabilities of even the most practiced warrior. A thunderstorm of blows hammered against Mirodir's defenses, each lightning-quick, each pushed aside by a deft block. One fist overextended, and he capitalized on her mistake, wrenching her arm under his control and hurling her into the air before slamming her against the ground. Though the air left her body, her aura saved her from the shattered ribcage such a blow would have inflicted.
Snarling, she slammed her elbow into Mirodir before he could leverage his advantage, and he grunted in surprise. Scrambling away, she couched herself for another strike. As a Dire Avenger, his forms were well-practiced and balanced, a difficult challenge. But that was the purpose of the spar, after all. Without significant strain, her semblance would lie dormant and unused.
Reaching within her, she let her soul fill every inch of her being. Her blood was pumping, head pounding with adrenaline, fists braced and aura flickering at her fingertips. This cycle, Maion. This cycle is the one. Mirodir leapt forward, allowing her no time for introspection. Maion flowed under his strikes, retreating under the controlled yet unrelenting advance.
She flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around her brother in a vicious grapple. His fists hammered against her back, useless against the stalwart shield of her aura. Lifting him into the air, she cast him down with a cry of strain. Pinning him, her fist readied to smash his face in. He was too fast, binding his fist in her sparring gear and hurling her into the ground beside him.
Stars exploded in her vision as her head smashed into the uncaring dirt, brilliant white bursts of light filling the training field with their lazy beauty. Though disoriented and reeling, she rolled away from Mirodir's next attack, clambering to her feet. Wiping blood from her lip, she distanced herself, keeping low to the ground.
She made a feint, and Mirodir flinched, an opportunity that she seized with abandon. Her fist flew forwards, cracking across his jaw. He recovered well, countering with a sharp kick that sent her stumbling back.
This won't do. Her aura reserves were holding for now, but the stable and even-handed teachings of the Dire Avengers steeled her brother well against the lightning strikes of the Striking Scorpion. As always, they were even.
Unless he decided to unleash his semblance. Focus, Maion thought. Look within. Who are you? She flowed around Mirodir's strike, a blur of ruddy hair and rippling muscle. Your semblance is a part of you. Grandmother's words. A reflection of the self.
Lashing out, she blindsided her brother with a swinging fist. Though he turned it aside, he could not avoid her knee. It connected with his chest, driving the wind from his lungs. Her feet dug into the earth, and she seized her advantage by barreling into Mirodir. They grappled and struggled before he leveraged his larger aura reserves, folding her over and hammering her into the ground.
With a desperate roar, she bashed her head against his nose, breaking his hold. Scrambling away, Maion weighed her options once more. If they had weapons, she would have won. Her skill with a chainsword remained unparalleled among her comrades at the Shrine… and if she could ambush Mirodir, then she could claim victory.
But she was not on a battlefield, shrouded in concealment. They fought on the Tou'Her's training ground, armed with nothing but their fists. Even ground.
Breathing hard, they circled each other, searching for an opening that never appeared. A gentle breeze stirred the matted grass around them, bearing a trail of red leaves aloft. At this rate, her semblance would go undiscovered. She wasn't pushing her limits, straining-
Mirodir stormed forward, his fist braced. Maion ducked under it, swooping low and rolling away from his next strike. If I could just get behind him, he'd be defenseless. But it was impossible. The only shadows afforded by the training field were the ones cast by the stunted spires, laying across even ground.
Wait. Could I? Her thoughts were interrupted, broken by Mirodir's charge. Bracing herself, she turned his attack away, shunting him aside and throwing him off-center. A hopeful foot lashed out, but he grabbed ahold of it, attempting to right himself.
Shaking him off, Maion decided to test her theory. It was… shaky, but she couldn't deny it was fitting. They circled once more, and Maion advanced, taking slow, steady steps as she seized the initiative. Mirodir retreated, unwilling to let the distance between them shift.
Soon he was enveloped in shade, crouched below the tallest spire. My thanks, Auntie. Her aura flared as she willed it to fill her being, the coursing of her soul a crushing tsunami of raw power. She understood, then.
"Good match, brother." His confusion lasted but a single moment.
Her foot met shadow, and she dissolved into nothingness, a cloud of black tendrils vaporizing into the humid morning air. In the same instant, her arm shot out from the shaded earth, wrapping itself around her brother's neck and bringing him low. She surfaced, inky trails of onyx smoke wafting off her.
"Yield." He struggled for a moment before finding himself completely pinned. He tapped out. Her heart soared, and her family erupted into a chorus of boisterous cheers. Laughing, she released her brother, helping him to his feet. Sweat-stained and bloodied, the siblings embraced, grinning wide. The entire spar lasted thirty seconds.
"Congratulations are in order, Maion," he said. "A Shadow-Walker. The first of the Tou'Her to wield such a semblance."
"Many thanks brother. Without the help, it might have been quite a while before I discovered it." Mirodir's wife approached them, her eyes betraying a hint of amusement. Dabbing at his split lip with a medicinal cloth, she shook her head in mock disapproval.
"I am unhurt Elli," he tried, attempting to block her advance. She ignored him, aiding him despite his protests.
"I do not care what you think, Miri. I joined this family against my better judgement, so you are going to suffer the consequences." Wiping away the crystallized blood, she shot Maion a small grin. "That was well fought. You gave him quite the challenge." Bowing her head in thanks, Maion relished Mirodir's exasperated face. Recently returned from an expedition with the Banshees, Ellilara doted on her life-companion with unsparing frequency. Their love was an uncommon one among the eldar of Il-Kaithe, but one they treasured all the same.
Maion returned to the other Tou'Her, accepting hugs from Phyladra and Asuriel, who, like Ellilara, also returned from duty among the Banshees.
"Well fought, sister," Phyladra said.
"And although we've yet to discover our semblance-" Asuriel continued.
"Your struggle has inspired us." Phyladra finished. Twins, Maion thought with a smile. Autarch Elladar sat amongst the jubilation, his face contorted into one of undisguised confusion and astonishment.
"Are you unwell, my Lord?" Maion asked, approaching him.
"I-" He started, before stopping, unsure of how to continue. "I have many questions," he finished. She laughed, the sound like the ringing strums of a harp.
"You are the first outsider to have witnessed such an event. Consider yourself… fortunate." He nodded, brow still furrowed. "Elliara is almost done with my brother. I'm sure he will be available to speak with you shortly." As if surfacing from a lake, Elladar's confusion vanished.
"Ah. I would, but as I said, I have my own reasons for attending. The primary one among them is to speak with you."
"Me, my Lord?" Maion asked, caught off-balance.
"Yes." He began to speak again before Mirodir addressed the family.
"Tonight, we celebrate Maion's achievement with a banquet!" The Tou'Her cheered, smiles bright and shining in the rising sun. "As you are aware, Lord Elladar has joined us for this auspicious occasion. Let us extend our hospitality towards him." The sound of polite applause met this, many of the Tou'Her extending gracious nods in his direction.
"This isn't quite what I expected." Elladar said, confiding in Maion. She rolled her eyes, the swell of her accomplishment still bearing her heart aloft.
"That is what sets us apart Lord," she said. "We are an unpredictable lot."
"That, and the Soul-Wielding," he said with a bemused grin.
"And the Soul-Wielding," Maion agreed.
Soft laughter filled the dining halls of the Tou'Her compound, and Maion sipped at her summervine as she watched the death of the day-cycle. Her stomach full on grains and fruit, she enjoyed cousin Kuril's music as its strings washed over her. Another wave of amusement crashed over her, no doubt the result of one of Uncle Garnet's ribald stories. The banquet had been a pleasant one, even if the looming spectre of Elladar hung over the proceedings. She sighed, adjusting the platinum bangles that adorned her wrist and complimented her slim-cut black dress. His arrival had intrigued her, but they had been mired in celebrations all day. As if summoning him with her thoughts, he appeared on the balcony behind her, hands clasped behind his back.
"Your brother is wondering after your presence," He said, unmoving. She gestured him to approach, unstirring from her place on a reclining couch.
"My brother can wait. I needed some peace."
"I am sorry for disturbing you then," he said. Instead of replying, she took a sip of summervine, the taste sweet and rich. She set the vine flute on a table beside her.
"Think nothing of it, my Lord. My family is the largest one seen in countless passes, and that does not come without its headaches." Sitting beside her, Elladar smiled, running a hand through his hair.
"In all my life, I have never seen a thing like it."
"We are unique," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And that is why we are who we are." Examining her summervine, she smiled. "Do you hate us as well?" The question caught him off-guard, and he blinked at her brazen response. "See? We are direct, where others are circuitous. We hide little of ourselves, we Tou'Her."
"I suppose that is true enough." Elladar said. "You accepted me into the compound with no reservations."
"We had little choice. You are an Autarch, and the Tou'Her are a family of warriors. It is not in our nature to disobey you," she said with a small laugh. "Though you have not answered my question."
"...I do not hate you. Though judging by the manner in which you posed the question, I suppose my answer is meaningless." He watched the false sun set, igniting the sky into a bursting bowl of citrus. "Your family has produced warriors the likes of which haven't been seen in… millennia. Yet you are born of mon'keigh." Maion's eyes narrowed.
"We prefer that term go unspoken in the compound."
"Ah. I apologize," he said, bowing his head.
"You misunderstand, Lord. You knew her only as the Traveller, the Soul-Wielder. A mysterious child arriving under a tree in the Garden of Isha. Calling her a mon'keigh is understandable, but inaccurate. There are mon'keigh, and there are humans." Maion smiled. "She was no mon'keigh." Sighing, Elladar considered her words.
"I'm not sure I understand the difference," he replied.
"The gulf between them is wide and massive," Maion said, wearing an even smile.
"The display in your training grounds this morning…" he started, before trailing off. "I thought I understood what your family is capable of."
"Uncle Obsidian informed you then?" She asked, once more partaking of her summervine. Elladar looked at her.
"He is Lossamdir now."
"He may be an Exarch, but he is family above all else. Even if his armor has wrought him into something else, he is still my beloved Uncle." She sighed. "In truth, him succumbing to his war-mask grieved us to no end. Many of the Tou'Her have walked the Path of the Warrior their whole lives without doing so, and a few believed it to be impossible. After that day, his wife and daughter walked the Path of the Mourner."
"This word… wife?" Elladar inquired.
"Female life-companion. Among many other things, the Soul-Wielder brought her culture along with her. Ask Aunt Hyliodora for the specifics, if you care to learn more. As it is, most of Il-Kaithe regard human culture with disdain and scorn. And if she had hailed from the Imperium, they would be correct to do so." Sighing, she stood, placing her drink beside her. Leaning against the railing, she unbound her hair, tearing the net of gold away.
"Her claims-"
"Were well-vetted," she said, watching dusk steal itself upon Dolone. "We, the Tou'Her… we stand in the crucible of history. All my siblings, my family," she said , her eyes boring into Elladar, "we are the answer the eldar have sought for millennia. Not the expected one, but an answer all the same. And while you do not hate us, the idea disgusts you."
"Do you honestly believe that?"
"I stand behind every word I say. Is it mere coincidence that the only growing family of Eldar on Il-Kaithe is born from human stock?"
"It is the lack of waystones that concerns me." Elladar returned, returning her gaze. "Every eldar born since the Fall has borne one, to ward off She-Who-Thirsts."
"And that the God of Vengeance Ynnead might come again," Maion finished. "While our souls are Eldar, none of us have once felt her gaze. We are not like our kin. We follow the Paths not out of necessity, but of loyalty and duty. We live for each other and for the survival of our kind." She glanced at the Autarch. "We do not require them."
"Yet Rhona sings within the Infinity Circuit," Elladar countered.
"Aunt Rhona died in her armor, slain as she single-handedly cut down a horde of vile greenskins. She would have rather leapt into the Eye of Terror than remove the spirit stones that inhabited her storied armor. Remember that, Autarch. We are born of a human woman, that is true. But even the Soul-Wielder's allegiance belonged solely to Il-Kaithe. To her new people," Maion said, smiling. She watched her commander's features contort, wrestling thought into being.
"You speak fondly of her," he said.
"Grandmother was a wonderful woman." Maion replied. "I knew that, even though her disappearance left me little time to bond with her." Shifting in his seat, Elladar considered her words.
"That reminds me of the reason I sought you out." She looked at him, anticipation arcing her eyebrow. "Your family has become intertwined with the fate of Il-Kaithe."
"How so?" Maion asked, returning to her summervine.
"Farseer Sylvis has foreseen your involvement in a crucial stage in the upcoming war against the Arch-Foe. The fate of our people hangs in the balance." Straightening, Maion nearly dropped her flute.
"Truly?"
"I would not be here if it were otherwise."
"Just me, my Lord?" The prospect concerned her. She had never entered battle without her comrades from the Shadowed Sword.
"Not quite. I am forming a war-party of Il-Kaithe's most accomplished warriors. Sylvis warned me of a grave danger, and though the other Autarchs may scoff, I trust his vision. " Hearing this, Maion felt her war-mask calling for her. A mission directly under the Autarch… proposed by none other than Uncle Sylvis!
"Is this related to his prophecy?" Maion asked. Elladar shook his head.
"I asked the same thing, but he did not clarify. The only hint he could summon was that of a jester's mask."
"The Black Library?" Maion asked, fingers tightening around her flute. Though her walk on the Seer's path was brief, the mask of the Harlequin rarely held another meaning.
"It is entirely possible."
"And what of my family? I find it strange you would only approach me." Elladar's hands folded into a meditative knot.
"Your family is engaged on many fronts. I could not possibly requisition them all, though I would very much like to. However, I have asked Lossamdir to lead you, an offer he leapt at." Her heart nearly soared free of her breast. She hadn't seen her soft-spoken uncle in many passes.
"Then count me among his warriors." Maion said, showing no hesitation. I will report to you tomorrow, war-mask donned."
"I am pleased to hear that. My faith in you is well-rewarded." Grinning, Maion extended her palm. Elladar looked at the outstretched hand with palpable confusion. "I am unfamiliar with this gesture."
"You might not know it, Lord, but you have done this family a great service. You witnessed one of our most treasured rituals. But more importantly, you have shown us trust. Regarded as we are on Il-Kaithe, such a gesture will not be forgotten." Elladar smiled at that.
"I am… pleased to hear that."
"This is the last thing Grandmother taught me before she left. It is a handshake, an indication of trust among the humans of Remnant. You simply take ahold of my hand… and shake." Elladar obeyed, albeit with a hint of trepidation. Seizing the initiative, Maion grasped his hand and shook it, beaming. A smile reached across his face as well.
"How peculiar," he said. Maion laughed.
"Enjoy the banquet, Lord. I will rejoin you in a moment." Nodding, he did so, turning to descend the balcony's jutting steps. Taking her summervine between two slender fingers, Maion drank the rest of the heady liquid as she looked out over Dolone.
The Black Library. Perhaps I will finally learn of your fate, Grandmother.
A/N: Alright everyone! People have been asking me about what Maion and the eldar folk have been up to, so I thought I'd get around to it. Truthfully, I wasn't expecting her to be so popular (as the knee-jerk reactions to eldar seem to be 'XENOS FILTH'), but I digress.
I wonder who this mysterious 'Soul-Wielder' person could be? :D
Please let me know what you guys think! I love to hear feedback!
Review Replies:
Guest: Aw, thanks so much for your kind words!
The Walrus of Eden: Not making any promises! ;)
Inquisitor Marek: Thanks so much! It's something I work pretty hard at, because once I lose sight of the characters, the work as a whole will fall apart. I just do my best to avoid flanderizing them (i.e. no pun-spewing Yang) and keep their core character intact.
Sigurd: It's one of the last things that cause her conflict, considering Yang is such a stark reminder of who she used to be.
OBSERVER01: I think you'll like it!
snoogenz: That may or may not be something I revisit later… :)
Kiyoushu: Still… ick.
Skepsis Forever: Weiss is disgusted with herself, and Yang still can't accept who her friend has become. Also, I noted this on SB/SV, but regarding 'Yang-as-an-Inquisitor' thing, that was yet more manipulation on Weiss' part. She has much different plans. As for Amat, if he was smitten with Yang to the point of disobedience, she would have made note of it. Thanks so much for your regular, awesome reviews!
polarpwnage: I guess only time will tell, huh?
Darkerpaths: Horus wasn't exactly an adorkable, milk-drinking, cookie-eating, optimist, but I see your point. XD
Magisking: That would be interesting indeed!
SixPerfections: Maybe this chapter addressed your theories about the Eldar. :D I agree with you on the morality spectrum too. Weiss could dominate Yang's mind if she wanted to, but that would probably break her. She already feels nauseous having to do it on regular Imperium folk, so having to do the same for Yang would probably be the straw that broke the camel's back. Thanks so much for your awesome reviews! I love hearing from you!
Darth nylon544: Hey man, good to see you! As for your concerns, I have a few responses: 1 - this is actually a good point, but it would probably roll of Yang's back… it doesn't matter if Weiss indirectly saved the city, she'd still be fucking pissed that the 'saviors' are puritan pyromaniacs. 2 - It wasn't necessary, although I probably should have made that clearer. The baddies completely spent themselves trying to take down Shao-la. 3 - You're right, they can't change the Imperium overnight. 4 - Amat's comments about Ember Celica are definitely not supposed to sound like he regards them as archeotech or something. There are LEAGUES of differences between Remnati tech and DAoT tech.
OnyxIdol: Thanks! If I coddled the reader with too much WAFF, it just wouldn't feel genuine to me.
Nemris: Right? Thanks so much for your kind words regarding the characters. It's something I work really hard at. :)
Yoshtar: Hey, that's an interesting theory! If you want, you could add it to the WMG page on this story's TVTropes page! I guess time will tell if it's correct or not…
Sixthdaemonfox: Magos Tyrham is one of the coolest OCs in this story in terms of what he's willing and able to do… thanks to his relationship with the Lady Inquisitor. As for Yang-wishing-for-Blake, it's more of a 'if you're here, I want to find you' thing then a 'you better hurry up and die so I can find you' thing.
LegionOfMisfits: Hehe! I hope it's hate in the 'boy, she's being a huuuuuuge bitch and it's frustrating to see' sense instead of the 'she's super annoying' sense!
soupie13941: Wow, thanks so much for your praise! It means a lot, as this chapter was pretty tough to do.
ChaosProductions: I really can't properly express my gratitude for your review. After having a few rough days, getting a big ol' wall of text praising the story really picked me up. Not only that, but the three things you mentioned (accessibility, expansion, characters) are the things I worked hardest on, which really meant a lot to see them appreciated. I'm so flattered you think so highly of my story, especially putting it on a level with RWBY Season 3 hype. Seriously, thank you so, so, much for this review. Stuff like this always makes all the hours spent writing, fretting, and editing this story worth it. So, in short, thank you. It means more then you know. PS: It's not a direct reference, two of the Sisters are actually blood related. :)
Gafgar: Eesh, can do.
Heitomos: Um… Yang actually has been fitting 40k shells into Ember Celica. They're just regular shotgun shells though, nothing special. As for Yang getting a sword, it just seemed gamey to me to just drop a powerfist on Yang.
Thanks so much, everyone! I love you all, and can't wait for you to see what's coming next!