Author's Note: I didn't detail the soul transference well enough, I see, since I was telling it from the perspective of the test subjects who couldn't see what was being done. Here's a better account! I hope you all enjoy it!

Phaeron Rahkaak patiently waited as Manric gave her a soul.

It felt very strange and a bit unpleasant. Warmth in her core, that started to become painful, but then Manric eased away the pain. His touch on her chest cartouche was like a bucket of water poured onto a fire, putting out that heat. Rahkaak was aware of another strange feeling, like her body was slightly different, as Manric continued to soothe her new soul and coax it into correctly filling her body.

"This feels very strange," Rahkaak murmured as she spread her fingers and flexed them, making a fist. It was so hard to define, so subtle, but a very real difference. Like something that was missing had been supplied, like some primordial 'life' had re-entered her cold, metal body. Phaeron Rahkaak had never been one to desire to return to flesh – she thought it was impossible anyway – but now, she didn't think she would really want to. Is this immortality without the drawbacks? Ah, but she shouldn't think so. There were always drawbacks, they just varied. Speaking of which. "Manric, recall does function with a soul?" Surely it did or they wouldn't be doing this. Manric looked up from his work.

"Oh yes. I was recalled once, when my own idiot soldiers shot me." Oh my, how unfortunate. "To be fair to them, we were fighting Chaos and they swore after that they thought I was a demon. I think those damned demons of Tzeetch put an illusion on me." That was rather clever of them. "Ahmakeph had been recalled once too, he just lost fair and square to an Astartes champion. But we know recall works, for certain." Ah, what a relief. But then, she shouldn't have worried, losing their recall in return for immunity to the Flayer virus would be a rather poor trade.

"Will this make us vulnerable to corruption by Chaos?" Rahkaak thought to ask and Manric nodded as he stood, his work done.

"Yes. Chaos corruption is often a choice, and now it is a choice that can be made. Blackstone can protect you, though, as it always has." Manric paused a moment. "Of course, if agents of Chaos were to take us as captives now, they would be able to corrupt us more easily. Imotekh is aware of this, but he's decided it's an acceptable risk." Compared to the Flayer virus, Rahkaak could see that.

(Imotekh was also aware of the danger of overly clever yet also stupidly ambitious subordinates using Chaos to attempt to overthrow him)

(they wouldn't get far)

"Simokh, it's your turn," Manric said and her chief Cryptek nodded. This time Rahkaak was able to observe the process from the outside, and it was very interesting. Manric gently placed the ghost wood inside Simokh's body, attached it to him with little cords. Then he gently pressed on the material, staring at it intently. It compressed, then shattered and the cords burnt away. Simokh twitched and Rahkaak was sure he was feeling the same heat and pain she had experienced.

"So you are forcing the soul into the body?" She hadn't been fully aware of how this worked, only that it required a psyker. Manric nodded, moving up so he could touch Simokh's chest.

"Yes, unfortunately, that's necessary since there's no natural affinity between the soul and the body." Hm, that was unfortunate. Manric would have to work night and day in the Sautekh Dynasty to get everyone ensouled. Hopefully it would not be too strenuous for him. He was showing very little strain so far, perhaps it required very little raw power.

As Manric worked on Simokh, Rahkaak reached up to rub her chest, feeling the ridges of the Uhnashret symbol engraved there. That symbol… it was…

She removed the diadem from her head with a sigh. It was not pure gold, but rather gilded silver, to save weight. It was still heavy after a long day and her head hurt. She ran her fingers over the symbol of her Dynasty, feeling the ridges under her fingers. Then hands gently touched her shoulders and neck, massaging the tender muscles.

"My beloved Phaeron, please do not do this to yourself. Kototep can take your place tomorrow. The people will understand that you need to rest." A warm baritone murmured in her ear. She shook her head slightly but melted into his attentions.

"My beloved Cryptek, you know I cannot. I need to be there, to comfort them," she murmured, gazing out over the city. It was a beautiful city of brick and stone, interspersed with the great transport conduits and the small flying machines. The great navigational aides levitated over the city, guiding the airborn traffic with the infallibility of machines. But despite the beauty of it all, there was smoke in the air and a smell. The smell of burning flesh. Fortunately it was not from necrontyr, not right now, but from the hearts of animals, placed in furnaces to please the gods. The flesh of the beasts was preserved for later or given to the poor. One of the few good things to be said about a Solar Year was that no one went hungry. The least fortunate would go to death with a full belly.

A sob suddenly wracked her as that thought hit home, the sorrow of it all spearing her heart. Warm arms went around her and she fell into them, letting herself relax into that beloved strength.

"But who will comfort you, my love?" he murmured in her ear and she nestled against his chest.

"You will, Simokh. You will…" he gently drew her up and she saw his face. Simokh was so handsome, his face beautifully sculpted and his jaw so strong. His nose had a bump in it, a small imperfection that made him all the more beautiful to her eyes. His eyes were burnished gold, without the flecks of other colors that most necrontyr had. He pulled her into a kiss and she let herself fall into it, the deep love that lay between them.

"My beloved Cryptek."

Rahkaak came back to herself with a start, looking down at her chest cartouche. She was deeply shaken by the memory.

That is what lay between us? Simokh had always been her closest companion, in the deathless existence of the necrons. Before his engrams had degraded, they had been closer, but even now he was her right hand, a loyal pillar of support. But this… This is what we were to each other? Rahkaak did not know what to think of it. Simokh was a commoner, this should have been forbidden. What had her court thought of it? What had her cousin thought of it?

That caused her mind to go another way, and another memory was dredged from the depths of the far-off past.

Rahkaak went to see her cousin with no announcement or fanfare, taking only a single Lychguard. That was a sign of the deep trust between them and the safety of the palace, that she could walk around with just a single attendant. In other Dynasties, she knew, that would have been unthinkable even with the closest of relatives.

Because she came with no prior warning, though, Rahkaak was treated to a scene that was utterly decadent.

"Oh Kototep. Really?" Rahkaak said with an annoyed sigh. The braziers were lit with incense and around Kototep were three beautiful maidens. They were part of a very particular caste devoted to tending to the personal needs of the nobility. That covered many skills, from prostitute to masseuse, from skincare to hairstyling. It was actually a relatively high-status caste, for commoners, and for the beautiful young women like these it carried the potential to have the child of a high noble. Such children often had very good prospects in life, ranging from easy access to Cryptek training to entry to the Immortals. "It is the middle of the day!" That was the real problem she had with this. Although, everyone did still have their clothes on, thankfully. Kototep waved away her objections, a scented smoke stick in hand.

"I am just seeking inspiration, cousin. I was thinking of composing a poem about our sybaritic ways." What a convenient excuse! "And really, we've just been singing and drinking. Would you like some wine?" Hm.

"You know, I think I would." One of the maidens poured her a small glass and Rahkaak accepted it. That was another thing to be thankful for, that she needed no food tasters. Rahkaak knew that Zahndrekh, the ruler of Gidrim, employed dozens of food tasters and it was a high-risk occupation indeed. Rahkaak just sipped her wine for a moment, basking in the atmosphere.

Kototep's quarters really were beautiful. He fancied himself a connoisseur of art and one of his walls was a gorgeous mural, depicting the stark natural beauty of their world. On one side of the mural was the statue of a beautiful female, reaching to the heavens in a joyful gesture and wearing flowing linens. One the other side was the statue of a warrior, a male wearing armor and a stoic expression, a spear and shield in hand. The table in the centre of the room had more precious objects of art, tiny surrealistic bronzes that depicted trees that had other things in their branches, ranging from intricately detailed planets to sundials. Rahkaak admired the trees for a moment, sipping her wine. There was a pleasant breeze in the room and she glanced towards the balcony. Kototep had a beautiful balcony that allowed him to overlook the city and right now, the doors and curtains were wide open, letting the air move freely and displaying the view.

"Ah, cousin, I love your company but are you here to join our singing?" Rahkaak snorted at the thought, almost regretting that she could not. As a Phaeron, she had her dignity and joining a group of wine-soaked prostitutes in singing with her cousin was simply out of the question. A shame actually, it sounded like a wonderful time.

"I just came to ask if you might attend to my duties tomorrow." That was also something that would not be done in other Dynasties. The thought of the Phaeron of Sautekh, or even many lesser Dynasties, giving up their throne to someone else for a day was rank insanity. But for Rahkaak, she could allow Kototep to take her seat and manage the court for a day if she needed time to herself. Other Phaerons would simply cancel the court entirely to account for such times.

"Oh ho, it's that time of the year again?" Kototep said with a saucy wink and Rahkaak gave him only a placid stare. It was indeed that time of the year again, Simokh's day of birth. Unlike her own day of birth, which was a great public holiday, this was a day for just themselves. No special plans were made, just a quiet day that they would spend together in the gardens and her quarters, enjoying each other. "I will gladly take this duty for you. We all just want the best for you, Phaeron." Kototep seemed melancholy for a moment. "It's a shame you cannot marry."

"…" Rahkaak's gaze dropped to her wine, looking into the murky red liquid. She knew Kototep was not referring just to Simokh, but to her status in life in general. There was no one within the Dynasty truly fit to be her husband, even if her heart had not been already claimed. After several generations of female Phaerons and consanguineous marriages, the Crypteks were warning of dangerous birth defects. Yet looking outside the Dynasty was even more immediately perilous than incest. Zahndrekh of Gidrim was a good example… he was a fine man and a great Phaeron, more than worthy of her hand. But accepting such an offer would lead to the end of the Uhnashret Dynasty as an independent entity and that was something Rahkaak could not accept. As wonderful as Zahndrekh personally was, he was still a male necrontyr who lived for war. He would change everything, and he was actually one of the best she could think of. All the other rulers she might pair with were even worse, and lesser nobles outside her Dynasty were out of the question. They would become Phaeron and relegate her to her proper place as wife. The only way to avoid that was to marry within the Dynasty, and they had gone too far with that already.

At least all this meant that her nobles were looking the other way as she gave her herself to a mere commoner. They were the ones who truly had the most to lose, if she looked outside the Dynasty for a husband. It would also harm them if she never had a child… oh, one of them would be lucky enough to ascend to Phaeron, but they would be rocked with war before that could happen and many lives would be lost. So they all looked away, giving tacit acceptance, as Rahkaak pursued her own entanglements.

"Oh cousin, I did not mean to remind you. Would you like some pemina paste?" Oh Kototep!

"You ridiculous fool. When are you going on your fishing trip?" Kototep had been planning an expedition to learn how to be a fisherman. Rahkaak thought he was mildly insane, but he was likely to do it, he'd spent three months once breaking apart rocks with power tools to find inspiration. Most surprisingly of all, the men she'd quietly enlisted to keep an eye on him had reported he was rather good at it.

"In a few months Phaeron. I'm trying to coincide it with the time for the best weather on the sea, I'm worried that I will be a poor fisherman and I want to spare my stomach if I can," Kototep admitted without a shred of embarrassment. But then, he was shameless. "I might be home early from this one. I tried the simulator and I was almost ill." Oh, that was a bad sign, he might indeed find the sea unbearable. "Still, even if fishing is not for me I can observe the beauty of the sea and the coast." Rahkaak finished the wine with a final gulp, enjoying the smooth, slightly sweet taste of it.

"Well, I should leave you to your wine and song. Please don't walk on the balcony naked again." Kototep's balcony could be seen by many others, there had been several complaints. Kototep laughed and his maidens giggled, sounding like a flock of birds. Rahkaak left with her Lychguard in tow, smiling to herself.

For all his foolishness, Kototep's lighthearted ways always brightened her day.

Rahkaak fell out of this memory feeling even more shaken than before.

That was what Kototep was like? What she had just seen was nothing like the person she knew now. And with a mounting sense of horror, Rahkaak comprehended why.

Everything she had seen in that vision, every aspect of what made Kototep happy, had been destroyed by the conversion of necrontyr to necron. The beautiful art on his walls, the food and the maidens, the drugs and of course, his own gift for poetry. All of it seared away, leaving behind… what? A fundamentally unhappy necron, drifting with no purpose and no ability. Trying to find something, anything that he could do well and find pride in and finding nothing. Arrogating himself as best he could, to try to convince himself that he still had a use. Rahkaak thought that the only ones to suffer more cruelly were the commoners.

"Phaeron?" Simokh's voice roused her from her reverie and Rahkaak realized he was done. Would this fix his engrams? Would he remember what they had been to each other? A hand gently touched her face and Rahkaak realized he had already recalled. She gently caught his hand, holding it like a precious thing.

"My beloved Cryptek," she murmured her favorite endearment and saw his eyes flare, an extra sparkle of light.

"My beloved Phaeron," he responded and while Rahkaak could feel that his mind was still broken, there was some emotion there. An echo of what once had been. He drew her close and she let him, into an embrace of cold metal that was nonetheless warm.

They had each other again, after so long. And hopefully soon, Kototep would rediscover his art.

Laaror was right about Imotekh's motivations, but he was also wrong.

Everything he'd said was true as far as it went. But there were things he couldn't know, since the Spear of the Ancients only received hints of the future, not full visions. Eldrad perhaps had the tools to puzzle out Imotekh's true motivations, but even for him it would be a herculean task as he would need to know where to look.

Where to look was the Maynarkh Dynasty. Imotekh had always know that a war of extermination against them would likely be necessary. Silent King loyalists, insanely vicious and psychotic, they hated all organic life. Imotekh might have been able to live with all that if they kept to themselves, but they most emphatically did not. They expanded and absorbed lesser Dynasties like Rahkaak's, forcing them to join the ever-expanding horde of the Maynarkh. As they did, they continued to exterminate all organic life. They had already cost the Imperium of Man trillions of lives.

Worst of all, Imotekh had suspected and Orikan confirmed, that the Maynarkh were deeply afflicted by the Flayer virus on a fundamental level. Even those that seemed rational were not and they would find the ensouled necrons repulsive, reacting to them as though they were organic. There could be no peace in the war that would eventually come, only extermination.

So Imotekh wanted the aeldari in his empire for a purpose. He had noted the weapons of the Harlequins and the high rates of recall failures they had inflicted on Zahndrekh's forces, before they had put on that absurd play. Could such weapons be made that could be used by his forces? Could they inflict such losses on Maynarkh? THAT was worth having. THAT was worth pledging his support and protection to an eldar Craftworld. That was even worth potentially losing one of his most valuable subordinates to Slaanesh.

(and was that perhaps the true reason for that play? To show what the weapons of the Harlequins could do, so Imotekh would have a good reason to cooperate?)

(perhaps. We may never know)