In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future there is only War.
But they don't usually mention the equally grim darkness of the forgotten past. When the galaxy was young, and populated by the elder races of the Necrontyr, the Old Ones, and the C'tan, war was just as present as it would be in the far future. Before the Warp was tainted by thirsting, laughing gods, the planets burned and the fabric of reality was weaponized in a battle of survival and conquest.
It was only when the C'tan - star eating gods - had enslaved their servants in metal bodies, consuming the souls of an entire species of intelligent people and turning their bodies into their slaves, was galaxy engulfed in flames. The Necrontyr, seeking to cure their mortal bodies of the cancerous genetics they had suffered for eons, had been given exactly what they asked for, and were turned into an immortal army of soulless automatons. Deceiving this final generation of the Necrontyr, creating the terrifying silent army of the Necrons, the C'tan waged a brutal war against the Old Ones and their conjured races of other creatures.
The War in Heaven, the rise of the Necrons, and then the extinction of the Old Ones brought an age of uncontested superiority for the C'tan… whose success doomed them. Distracted, feeding upon the souls of the elder races and losing concentration in the gluttony that came after their wars, the C'tan would be tricked, their bodies shattering into millions of metal shards, which the Silent King of the Necrons would bind, hide, and scatter across the galaxy. Hoping that the C'tan would be forgotten and lost to time, the Silent King would put his people to sleep, so that the united children of the Old Ones would turn on one another, and, when they awoke, they would reclaim their empire.
Yet the methods of binding these C'tan were numerous. The powers they held were far too powerful for one method to contain them all, and for entities that controlled aspects of the universe, fragments would be scattered out across the cosmos itself to stop the natural reformation of them. Whether burying them in vaults, binding them in tesseract prisons, or imbuing their essence the metal bodies of their increasingly sentient servants, the C'tan were effectively sealed.
Sixty million years later – an unfathomable time to sleep – the Necrons began to awake. Struggling to remember themselves, they awoke and saw what had gone on in their absence. How confused they must have been, when they discovered their tomb worlds populated by living creatures, sentient aliens who had believed themselves masters of the galaxy. Correct in the assumption that their ancient enemies would destroy one another and themselves, the thought that a new race, unheard of, would gain hegemony over the galaxy was entirely unexpected.
Yet these 'humans' were no different from the Eldar, or the Ork. They had suffered the same fate as all species who were not unified by a greater will and purpose. Self-destruction, division, and struggles for power was as natural to these barely intelligible barbarians as their elders in the galaxy.
For they had not suffered first hand at the reality tearing power of universal individuality that the C'tan took such pride in.
The Necrons had learned the lessons their C'tan masters had taught them. They had learned that unity, whether created by the Soul Furnace or by the will of a king, was the only way to conquer their galaxy. With the drive to obtain supremacy over the galaxy once more and claim perfect bodies to inhabit beyond their metal shells, the Necrons march behind their leaders.
Yet they are a scattered, isolated people. Their technology, although ancient and powerful, was not designed for this new and modern age. Learning will have to be done. Creation will be needed. Time, an expendable resource for the immortal Necrons, would be used.
And for the ones who have been forgotten, who sacrificed their immortality and existence to contain the reality-warping powers of the C'tan, they are beginning to be found… but not just by their kin, who they believe still sleeping. Discovered by so many creatures over the millennia, from entirely unintelligent beasts, to the simple-minded humans who settled the planets that were once barren rock, the living prisons of the C'tan are beginning to stir.
Who, in their long hibernation, each react in different ways.
Some, undoubtedly, lash out at those that do not understand what it is they suppress. Others, still sleeping, do not realize or care that their imprisonment has shifted views from barren planets to that of research facilities. Others, fully aware but incapable of communicating with the creatures that they now spectate through their metallic bodies, watch as those around them make the same mistakes as they had when possessing flesh. These living prisons, guarding the shards of ancient horrors that, if unsealed, would spell doom for star systems, each react differently in their isolation… each believing they are the last of their kind.
This story follows a small sliver of one living prison's history. During a mere human lifetime, who, in the darkness of sixty million years, was the most entertainment a once living poet of the Necrontyr could experience. Having forgotten who he once was, the sacrifice he had made being lost to both the universe and his people, this living prison exists solely to suppress the powers of a C'tan, who, if unleashed, would reform itself prior to ever being shattered.
For inside of him, bound by the living metal, is the shard of the star god that possesses mastery over time.
Time, where one can move as far backwards as one wanted, but still flowed in a singular direction.
Time, which he had infinite of, and gave some of his up to act as a viewer upon the events of something so small and insignificant to himself. Never spoken to, and incapable of proper communication to those who directly interacted with him, he exists throughout this story not as a character, but a device.
Which he, a poet, could appreciate.