Morfynn Iyanna smiled, her eyes a bit damp, as she watched the youngsters engaging in a beautiful celebration.
The tragedy of the Craftworlders and the reason few drukhari ever turned to them, was the fact that they had to leash their emotions at all times. The aeldari were blessed and cursed with a deeply passionate nature, a depth of feeling that other races simply could not know. That had led them down the darkened path that had led to the birth of the monstruous infant, but it did not have to be negative. It should have been just an aspect of their nature, as natural as breathing and eating.
To starve Slaanesh and preserve their own souls, the Craftworlders rejected that aspect of their nature almost entirely. They still fell in love, they still felt emotions and sensations, but deliberately leashed and muted. It was a pallid existence that made them less than they should be. The Exodites handled it differently… instead of fully rejecting their emotions, they rejected technology and embraced a primitive existence, which gained them the same effect. But for all of them, avoiding Slaanesh meant making great sacrifices. Morfynn sometimes lamented the tragedy of it, that of all of them, the drukhari were truest to their natures. Why did it have to be this way?
But now that time of privation was over. Oh, they should not be ridiculous about it, but now they no longer had to hold their emotions in check at all times. There was no fear of a terrible thirst, a temptation waiting just in the wings, ready to pounce at any weakness. They could even die and reincarnate the way they once had, as long as they had the strength and technology for it. They could begin having children, without concern for soulstones. They could use cloning technology as well, just as the drukhari did, with no consequences. Morfynn could almost cry in joy at the thought.
That joy showed in their great celebration, as the young danced and music played. They were so beautiful, full of grace as they leapt and Morfynn almost wanted to join them, but she was too old for such things. A great feast of hand-held foods was spread out on great tables, inviting to take one. Morfynn picked up a crusty bun, biting into it and finding it was filled with a savory meat mixture. As she ate, for a moment her mind went to the humans on Craftworld Iyanden… they had given them some of the feast food as well, to enjoy the occasion.
The humans had been relatively good guests, with very few concerns or issues. Still, Morfynn and all the eldar would be glad to see them go and they were relieved that Yggdrasil was intact. It was such a beautiful world, destroying it would truly have been a tragedy. Morfynn almost envied the humans that darling little planet, but then ruefully acknowledged that was silliness. They had their Maiden Worlds. Yet still, that tidally locked world was so gorgeous. Could they ever make such a place into a Maiden World? Morfynn supposed there was no reason they couldn't. Perhaps they should look into that.
"What are you thinking, aunt?" Morfynn almost started before turning to see her nephew. He wasn't looking too well, one of his eyes was swollen shut and he had bruises all along his face and body. But he was still alive and would heal, which was all that mattered.
"I was just thinking about Yggdrasil, Belriel," she said before smiling softly. "A rather silly thought of how beautiful it is and how we should perhaps think of making such a planet into a Maiden World." They were rather common and most could do with a good seeding of life. Belriel tilted his head, thinking about it.
"I'm not sure… we might have to alter the planet a bit to make it suitable. Yggdrasil was quite fortunate to luck into such a fine habitable band." Yes, that was relatively rare, from what Morfynn understood. "But we can do that and if we can't, the humans certainly have the technology for it. They are so impatient though… they never leave planets long enough to become true Maiden Worlds." That was true, humans were just incapable of leaving a planet for ten thousand years, even if that meant it would become a true paradise.
(the tau planet was actually the perfect example of that. If they had just left it alone for a while, it would have become as beautiful and fertile as any Maiden World)
(although with an extremely flourishing population of Flesh Rippers)
"Did you hear about what happened on the battlefield, though? The thing that truly brought us the victory?" Belriel said and Morfynn blinked at him.
"No, what?" She hadn't heard of any defining moment. To her astonishment, Belriel described how the Sisters of Battle, in their great faith and the weakness of the walls of reality, had summoned an Angel of the Emperor. That Angel had spoken to the 'child of man', which everyone interpreted as Manric Duleth. He had understood the message and sang the call of the void, a strange urge to self-destruction, and then the powerful aeldari psykers had picked up his message and amplified it. Belriel had been directly involved in that amplification, adding his psychic strength to Manric's song.
(Manric had let the Emperor take the credit, but he'd recognized the same Angel of God he'd spoken to before)
(the Inquisitor on Hope had not shared her information with him, so Manric had no idea that Angels of God and Angels of the Emperor were the same thing)
"That makes so much more sense of what we saw now," Morfynn said, amazed by the revelation. Belriel's eyes brightened.
"You were watching the battle in the Immaterium… what did you see, aunt?" Morfynn nodded. She and the other eldar who were simply too old and frail to contribute had kept watch on the Immaterium, trying to understand what was happening there.
"It was an incredible thing…" Morfynn did her best to describe it. They had seen Ynnead explode into the Immaterium, like a beautiful sun, empowered by all the souls of the Craftworlds. Slaanesh had risen like a dark snake and they had battled, causing the currents of the Immaterium to go wildly out of control. Morfynn thought the disruption had surely been felt all through the Warp, perhaps even in far off Terra.
(she was right. The Navigators had had a tough time, that day. The lucky ones who were not in the Warp when it happened universally refused to enter)
(the only reason more ships had not been lost had been because most hostile Warp entities had gone into hiding, terrified by what was occurring)
The battle had raged wildly, Ynnead employing a shining sword and Slaanesh fangs of darkness. Morfynn had imagined she was back in time, to when Slaanesh was first born and devoured the gods of their pantheon. But this time was different, because Ynnead was shining so brightly. They all had so much faith in her, so much strength to bring to him.
(Ynnead's gender was truly impossible to determine, by any measure)
As the battle raged, something remarkable had happened. A red light had formed, separating from Ynnead. Vastly less powerful than the newborn god of death, from his long fracturing and sleep, it nonetheless took shape and they had seen it for Khaine. And as Khaine appeared, Cegorach had chosen to also join the battle. The Laughing God had used the two greater combatants as distractions, so he could land his own carefully calculated and devastating blows.
They still might not have won… they might not have won, except for the moment when things changed. Morfynn knew why now, why She-Who-Thirsts had suddenly faltered and seemed to offer her neck to the knife. Morfynn wondered… was Slaanesh pleased with the outcome? Was she happy to know what it was to die?
(because of the non-linear nature of the Warp, Slaanesh was now in a state of being born, existing, and dying, all simultaneously, as she existed within Ynnead)
(this did indeed please the Prince of Pleasure greatly, as there was no greater sensation than this)
"Does this mean Khaine has returned to his true nature?" Belriel asked and Morfynn nodded.
"I believe so, although he is greatly weakened." Morfynn thought that Khaine would never be what he once was. It was unfortunate, but the shattering and the many pieces of him that had been lost over time had taken a toll. "Hopefully Ynnead will take him beneath her wing." Otherwise Morfynn feared he would be in danger from Khorne. The Chaos God had already tried to claim him once. "There is no sign of Isha." They could only assume she was still captive in Nurgle's gardens. Morfynn had no idea how anyone could help her… perhaps if the necrons were willing to assist? But Morfynn would not put it past Nurgle to create something that could affect even them.
"There is nothing we can do for her," her nephew said, echoing her thoughts. "But aunt, why are we being wallflowers? We should join the dance," he said and Morfynn blinked.
"I am too old for such things." It saddened her a bit, that her young and passionate time was gone. Like most races, aeldari did become calmer and quieter with age. Belriel laughed softly.
"Ah, why let that stop you? Unless you truly don't want to?" Morfynn thought about it a moment before chuckling softly.
"Ah, why not?" It would be a bit of an embarrassment, as she could not possibly keep up with the younglings, but she would love to dance even so. Setting aside her staff, Morfynn let her nephew lead her into the dance. She was old and not remotely spry, but still expressed her joy in the dance.
After so very, very long, they were finally free.
Hanna was so incredibly happy after the battle of Yggdrasil.
She and her sisters had not suffered too much in the defense. Few daemons reached them and they had been able to focus fire on them, so few of those had actually reached the defenders. Their casualties had been only ten sisters, which was remarkably light for such an incredible battle. The Astartes, particularly the Space Wolves, had suffered much worse… but they had been deliberately playing tag with waterspouts. They regretted nothing.
The Sisters of Battle had also covered themselves in glory by managing to summon the voice of an Angel. Everyone credited that for giving them the key to victory, and turning the tide of the battle. Guilliman himself had recognized them, which had moved many of them to tears. Maybe Sister Agata HAD been obeying the will of the Emperor. If she hadn't done what she did, they would not have been here.
Now the Sisters were enjoying the celebration and the fish and chips were simply excellent. Hanna had asked and found out that to the North of this settlement was a great ocean, with a thin line of open sea. It was a bit dangerous – sometimes that open sea would completely ice over, and solidly too – but they still used fishing boats, bringing in the miniature forms of the great sea serpents from the Cauldron. The alien fish were perfectly edible and quite tasty. As she ate, Hanna glanced around Valhalla curiously. It was a lovely little mining town, with buildings built entirely out of the native stone. Most of them were boring and utilitarian, but Hanna could see that they were gradually adding beautiful carved stone work. Some of the motifs were extremely alien – necron runes, in particular – but some were achingly familiar, works that could have been Imperial Saints. What was truly odd to Hanna was when they combined the two. One noteworthy sculpture was a beautiful woman in a flowing gown with angel wings, but on her belt was the necron rune Hanna had come to recognize as meaning hope.
Hanna noticed the small group of Space Marines that had also been taken by the necrons had also come out largely intact. They were named the Cosmic Swords and in keeping with that name, they were all armed with chainswords. Although some of them were currently clustered around something and seemed to be arguing?
"Oh, what is happening?" she asked curiously, trying to see what they were doing. They seemed to have weapons, a small crate of… were those power sword hilts? But large enough to be used by Astartes. Hanna could easily count them and there were just five.
"Oh, Hanna, it's you… that very odd necron, the cheerful one with the silent bodyguard, gave us this. He said they were from his stash? I'm not sure what that means," Chester, one of the Astartes she knew quite well, said. Hanna reflected that they were all not very bright if they couldn't figure out what that meant. "He said it was a reward for doing a good job on the beach." They had done a very good job then, to get noticed this way.
"He means they're spoils of war. Undoubtedly from other Astartes." Given the size, there was really no doubt. "It's still nice of him to give them back… so are you deciding who will have them?" There were only five and power swords were a rare treasure. The Imperium largely did not have the technology to make them anymore, they often had trouble fixing them when they broke. These looked to be in excellent condition.
"Only trial by combat can decide!" One of the others proclaimed and several of them nodded sagely. Hanna could only smile as Chester glanced around.
"Do you think we could do that right now?" Hmm. Hanna also glanced around… there was really plenty of space, since they were doing this entirely outdoors. People were chatting and moving around, and a few snowflakes were falling but she was sure they could easily clear an area for this.
"Well, if you just do unarmed combat why not? The Space Wolves will probably cheer you on." They'd love to witness a good round of matches, particularly when there were prizes on the line. "Let's see if we can find a good spot." Hanna decided to make herself helpful in getting this sorted out. Honestly, she would love to see the Astartes engaging in a bit of sparring… she would never mention it to her Sisters, not ever, but she did like to watch sweaty men wrestling. Surely it wasn't wrong?
(it was probably wrong, but this once, she did not want to be right)
Hanna mentioned what they were doing to a few Astartes and PDF members, and as the matches started, they gathered quite an audience. Hanna cheered from the sidelines, enjoying every minute of it. And when they were done, a few of the Space Wolves wanted to do their own spars. Hanna went to get a bit of the mulled wine, sipping on the hot spiced drink as she watched.
Could this day get any better?
Elsewhere, at not the same time at all.
Zivok tapped his pen against his face for a moment, before silently passing the writing tool to Zaphokh. He took it without comment, to Zivok's pleasure. It was so good to have someone around who understood him so easily.
"I believe we have reached the end of our time together. You are sufficiently rehabilitated to rejoin Imotekh's forces. The Stormlord will be very pleased," Zivok said to Overlord Agatef. He had demonstrated the ability to control himself when facing the hallucination of a human. The hallucination had been worked so the human would retreat after a set amount of time, and Agatef had been wavering badly, but had managed it. That was really all they needed, most Imperium citizens wouldn't want to spend a moment in Agatef's company. Zivok deactivated the force fields surrounding the former Destroyer.
Zaphokh vanished instantly, engaging his Veil of Darkness as Agatef exploded out, his bladed arms at the ready. Zivok merely danced to the side, with a speed fully the equal of Agatef's, and countered a strike with his Abyssal Staff. It grated on necrodermis and Zivok deliberately pulsed it, forming a small psychic assault on Agatef's mind. He had no desire to harm the Overlord, it was more in the way of a warning. Agatef stopped, gazing at him with glowing eyes.
"Another test?" he inquired and Zivok nodded.
"But not of you, a test of me. All the new Crypteks from Hope are being trained with an eye towards joining the assault on the Pariah Nexus." Crypteks were not just researchers and technicians, they were also weapons. However, some were better at it than others. "Some of us are already proven nearly useless, but I seem to have a surprising aptitude for it." Boris had been tested and proven worse than useless. He wasn't afraid and didn't freeze up, but he bizarrely lost track of what he was doing and got killed very quickly. He'd never served in the military on Hope, due to his incredible technical abilities and it definitely showed. Most of the other Crypteks were quite the opposite, like Jan and Iplanen. They were both excellent on the battlefield although Zivok wondered if they would really be risked that way. Probably… Crypteks were too valuable NOT to use, despite the knowledge they held. "I would like to test my skill against you." Zivok didn't think he would win but it would be a very valuable learning tool. And this deep inside Mandragora, the chance of a recall failure would be minimal. Agatef's eyes burned brightly as he digested that.
"You are insane. But if you want so dearly to die, I will oblige you." Why did everyone think he was crazy? Zivok honestly didn't understand it. He pondered it with part of his mind as he engaged his Veil of Darkness, warping out at exactly the moment a bladed arm would have hit him in the face. With an incredibly fine grasp of physics, he landed a perfect blow on Agatef's back, making the Destroyer cry out in rage.
For Agatef, the spar that happened was a frustrating experience as he dealt with an extremely nimble Cryptek with very fine control over his abilities. For Zivok it was instructive, as he fully appreciated how difficult it was to mentally attack someone with a mind like Agatef. Psychomancers specialized in such things and Zivok was following their way of battle, but it was nearly impossible for him to penetrate Agatef's battle rage.
"Do you fear anything at all?" Zivok asked, a little vexed, as he ducked another strike. Images of organics would not help… Agatef did not FEAR organics, he loathed them, so it would actually be counterproductive.
"No. So what good does this do you, little maggot?" What a silly question.
"I am told that Space Marines can be exceedingly difficult to penetrate." Not all of them of course. Some were weaker than others, or had been bent and damaged by experiences that a psychomancer could exploit. But some of them were like iron rocks, every bit as impenetrable as Agatef, so this was good practice. "Not to mention that Szarekh will surely field Destroyers… this is valuable practice." He would find something. Zivok had confidence in his own ability.
Zivok almost HAD found something… Agatef had a long-lost fear, from the nearly forgotten Flesh Times… but he became too entranced with his struggle, too focused on what he was doing and briefly lost track of Agatef's multiple, bladed limbs. A leg lashed out and caught him, watching him off guard and then Zivok was very neatly impaled on a bladed arm. He felt his power core rupture, his flux outgassing as his mind still considered the problem.
"I think I know where I went wrong," Zivok said, barely paying attention to the state of his body. Agatef could not really chuckle, so he flashed glyphs that indicated his vicious amusement at Zivok's predicament.
"Fortunately for you, you will have a chance to learn," Agatef said before, with a surprising amount of delicacy, he tore Zivok apart. Pieces fell to the ground before vanishing, summoned for recall. Zivok mostly felt irritated, before his awareness temporarily vanished.
He'd almost gotten it, he wanted to try again.