Ahmakeph rubbed his chest cartouche, gazing at the still form of Manric. His eyes were flashing irregularly, even unconscious, which was not a good sign at all. They were waiting for the Crypteks to arrive so they could at least try to keep him functional and sane. Explaining what had damaged him though, THAT was going to be fun. They would probably just say "warp powers" and leave it at that.

"Idiot, idiot idiot idiot!" Ahmakeph muttered. "This was too precious to waste on the likes of me!" He was just a damned Overlord! "This should have been given to Imotekh!" Protection from the Flayer virus, forever… that was a gift worthy of a Phaeron.

"Well, we did agree with you cousin." Yes, that was why Zahndrekh had consented to the execution, so Manric wouldn't waste a cure to 'the plague' on Ahmakeph. "But it seems he had other ideas. And honestly, I can't regret it. You are my favorite cousin." Ahmakeph almost snarled that they weren't cousins but then something resonated in the back of his mind.

Favorite cousin.

Favorite cousin.

Ahmakeph was playing in the brush of his families' estates. He was jumping over sticks and climbing trees, enjoying every minute of his free day. Tomorrow he would be back to lessons and practice, but today was a day to play! He could have played with the other children but right now, Ahmakeph wanted to be alone. Most of them couldn't keep up with him anyway.

"Cousin! Cousin!" AH! Ahmakeph abandoned what he was doing at that distant call.

"Zahndrekh!" That was his older cousin. He was a young warrior now and usually away, but he had come home?! "I'm coming!" Ahmakeph scrambled over fallen trees and agiley eeled through the brush. He was a bit out of breath when he broke out into the clearing around their home. And his cousin was there, proud and bright on the back of his steed, a powerful hetra. The lizard like creature blinked at him placidly as Ahmakeph ran to Zahndrekh's side. "You've come home? Will you be staying long?" Zahndrekh was just his best cousin, always willing to make time for him and play.

"Long enough, little cousin!" Then Ahmakeph squeaked as he was scooped up and deposited in front of Zahndrekh on the hetra. He quickly clung on, overjoyed at the new vantage point. "Let me take you on a ride." Ah, how wonderful! Ahmakeph loved the feel of the wind in his face, and the way the scenery speeded by as the hetra lurched into a run. And was that Obyron, on another hetra? Ah, it was! Ahmakeph liked Obyron almost as much as Zahndrekh, he was very patient and willing to show him some of the things he and Zahndrekh were learning.

Ahmakeph lurched back to reality, stunned at the sudden recollection.

"We are cousins." They really were. Zahndrekh had been right all along. "I remember." He even remembered what Zahndrekh had looked like, which inspired true awe in Ahmakeph. Their memories of the Flesh Times were so hazy, no one could really remember what they had looked like, but Ahmakeph suddenly remembered. Although… Ahmakeph tried to remember what HE had looked like, and found nothing. "Guess I didn't spend much time looking in mirrors," he muttered to himself.

"You remember that we are cousins?! That's wonderful!" Zahndrekh sounded so pleased that Ahmakeph wanted to smack him. And why was he so irritated with Zahndrekh all the time anyway? Another recollection intruded, but less full and vivid than the first.

"Cousin, I am a man grown! Stop treating me like a child!"

"You'll always be my little cousin to me."

"You never accepted that I grew up," Ahmakeph said to his nemesor, who just laughed, delighting in this. Yes, that had been what had driven him wild then too, how much Zahndrekh had loved annoying him. Nothing had really changed, but with the ties of love and kinship broken, that annoyance had almost moved Ahmakeph to plot against his cousin. He felt shaken, now that he remembered.

"Ah, this is so wonderful! I am glad to have you back, cousin. What else do you remember?" Zahndrekh meant well but that thought… what else did he remember… Ahmakeph felt a soul deep dread but couldn't resist. He tried to remember… that time.

Ahmakeph was afraid, although he would never, ever admit it.

The edict of the Silent King had come, that they were all to accept biotransference. The great Furnaces had been set up, and the nobility would be the first to go through. The great C'Tan, the gods of their people, wheeled in the sky and it made Ahmakeph's palms feel sweaty on his Staff of Light.

"Ah, cousin, don't look so downcast! It's for the best," Zahndrekh said before coughing, a terrible wracking sound. He was older and with the curse of Necron genetics, his body had already begun to fail. The worst was the gargling sound at the end which told Ahmakeph that his cousin did not have long to live. Ahmakeph gave Obyron a helpless glance. The Vargard was still whole and hale, providing all the assistance he could to his stricken nemesor. "Well, it's certainly the best for me, isn't it, haha…" Zahndrekh said before dissolving into another coughing fit.

"I suppose so…" But why weren't they only converting those on the edge of death? Ahmakeph thought that would make more sense. Nobles standing close to death could be converted into a new, deathless ruling caste. "I don't like this at all," Ahmakeph muttered resentfully. He was known for his pugnacious nature and his refusal to accept anything on blind faith, so he thought he could get away with questioning the Silent King. "What is Szarekh thinking?" Why were they converting the damned commoners? So they could be used as fodder?

"Cousin, please, do not speak against the Silent King. Someone could complain to Imotekh," Zahndrekh beseeched him and Ahmakeph knew he was right. Zahndrekh couldn't protect him from the wrath of the Stormlord. And while Imotekh himself probably wouldn't care about an insult to Szarekh, he served the Phaeron of the Sautekh and that was another matter.

Ahmakeph watched grimly as the warriors began walking through the Furnace. Their bodies turned to fine ash and beautifully machined substitutes of metal came to life. It would be his turn when –

Ahmakeph's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a special message, an FTL communication from the Stormlord, floated gracefully into the room. Zahndrekh was taken aback but grasped the orb, taking the message in front of them. Ahmakeph was irritated by his carelessness, but honored by the trust his cousin put in him. An image of Imotekh flashed up and Ahmakeph's breath caught in his throat as he saw there was blood smeared across the Stormlord's face and smoke billowing in the distance.

"Zahndrekh, I hope this message has not reached you too late. We are betrayed. They are sacrificing the children to the C'Tan." WHAT?! "Go into rebellion now." The message cut off with a harsh sound of static and Ahmakeph felt like he couldn't breath. The children? The children were too small and frail to survive biotransference. They had been assured that as metal constructs, they would continue to raise their children until they were ready!

Szarekh and the C'Tan had lied?

"It is already too late." Zahndrekh's voice was dull and Ahmakeph whirled on him but stopped as he saw where the nemesor's gaze was… on the legions of warriors that were walking through the Furnaces at this moment.

"It can't be too late! Obyron has a daughter!" She was still a babe on her mother's breast. That mother was patiently waiting for her own time in the Furnace, sincerely believing she would continue raising the child with the aide of a bottle. Ahmakeph glanced at Obyron and saw his knuckles were pale from his grip on his scythe, although his face showed nothing.

"I know. We'll do what we can, but it's too late. Ahmakeph, Obyron – " and Zahndrekh began issuing crisp orders, interrupted once in a while with coughs, that they rushed to obey. As they began their gallant but doomed rebellion, Ahmakeph could only feel proud of his cousin.

There was no one more worthy of his service than Zahndrekh.

Ahmakeph gripped his head with his hands, rocking back and forth.

"I can't deal with this now. I can't think about this now," he muttered to himself. He'd known it would be bad and it was bad. Still, it seemed like there was no end to the layers of filth. They sacrificed all the children of the necrontyr to the C'Tan? Ahmakeph wasn't a fool and he knew that if the cost of eternal life was the lives of the commoner children, the nobility of the necrontyr would have paid it. Commoners only existed to serve the nobility, after all. But all the children, from the lowest commoner to the greatest nobility… that was obscene, sacrilege.

And yet.

It was also entirely typical of us. Our death cult of a culture, written large. Ahmakeph felt absolutely shaken at the thought and for one moment, wondered if Manric's soul fragment was already changing him. But no, it was just his knowledge of his own people. Because of their short lives and the cancers that riddled their bodies, death had infested their way of life. Bloody sacrifices were a matter of course and this one only differed in the scale of it.

"Cousin?" Zahndrekh touched his shoulder and Ahmakeph looked at him. For a moment, he almost told him. Told him what had happened, how deeply they had been betrayed and his valiant attempt to save the children.

Then Ahmakeph mentally shook himself.

That would be cruel. Zahndrekh deserved to have his fairy world of the past left undisturbed. He didn't need to know things like this. The person who needed to know was Imotekh.

"It's fine. Just remembering some past banquets where we had a bit too much wine," Ahmakeph lied easily. Remembering the Flesh Times more clearly made it easier to help Zahndrekh along with his delusion, because that eased him. Then the Crypteks arrived, which put a natural end to the conversation. As they tried to tend to Manric – apparently his systems were going absolutely haywire, but in ways that made little sense – Ahmakeph reached for one last thing. He knew the memory of being dragged in chains to the Furnace was a lie. Everyone had the exact same damn memory, how stupid did the C'Tan think they were? Well, pretty stupid since most of them chose to believe it but Ahmakeph refused such things. So what had ACTUALLY happened?

Ahmakeph was used to pain, but this pain was very extreme. Blood was rising in his throat, choking him, as shattered bones stirred with every breath. He'd really pissed off that one Necron. Well, good, Ahmakeph hoped he choked on it!

"This one is dying. Hurry, the C'Tan will be angry if they cannot feast." Let me die you fucking metal freaks!

He didn't really feel it as they dragged him to the furnace, leaving behind a wide trail of blood. Ahmakeph spent his last moments mentally insulting their mothers, lineage and personal habits before he was tossed through the fires of biotransferance.

"That is a memory I believe," Ahmakeph muttered to himself. Yes, that was how he would have gone, dragged through as he insulted everyone. Hostile? Oh, a bit.

The Crypteks couldn't do anything with Manric's soul, but they could stabilize his Necron body and that seemed to do some real good. His eyes stopped flashing and he stopped twitching, anyway.

"His condition is so unusual. We should keep him for observation," one of the Technomancers said before tilting his head to one side. "What kind of 'warp sorcery' caused this?" The Crypteks were a bit skeptical about it all. Ahmakeph wondered what they suspected, but then Zahndrekh lied glibly.

"He was trying to scry our enemies, look into the future like Orikan would, but with sorcery. Clearly he has a bit to learn!" Ahmakeph knew exactly why Zahndrekh was lying. Knowing that a cure to the Flayer virus existed, and it conferred permanent immunity, but could only be used once and had been wasted on a minor Overlord… that would drive everyone wild. Ahmakeph could only IMAGINE how Overlords would take Manric to task. Some of them would want him executed as a traitor for NOT using it on Imotekh! Imotekh himself, weirdly enough, would completely understand. He knew loyalty and what it could drive people to. But the Stormlord just didn't need the headache. And then there was… something darker. Something much, much darker. Ahmakeph didn't know for sure, but he'd heard that Illuminator Szeras always wanted organics as the price of his services and that was because he was researching the magic of the soul. He didn't know if it was true or not but if it was true, surely he would give anything to get his claws on them. The thought made Ahmakeph shudder.

If he had to choose between death and being Illuminator Szeras test subject, Ahmakeph would commit suicide instantly.