Elsewhere, a few things were happening.
Trazyn the Infinite had decided, after very little reflection, that he wanted a soul. The very idea was deeply exciting. Would this be the first step to reclaiming their lost flesh? And even if it wasn't, even if that dream was still incredibly far off, would it make these bodies of cold steel more congenial? Even, perhaps… pleasant? Trazyn would rarely admit it, even to himself, but right now he was keenly aware he was not alive in any real sense of the word. There was nothing in the galaxy it could truly be compared to, a strange twilight of existence. Would a soul make it better?
Also, just as important to him, would a soul bring back his memories? Trazyn was deeply curious about his own life and history. Like all of his kind, he could barely remember a thing of the Flesh Times and he suspected the memory of being dragged to the Furnace in chains was false. What had actually happened? While the thought of truly remembering was also terrifying – what if he'd walked through voluntarily? – it was also deeply tantalizing. And Trazyn had never been one to turn away from knowledge because of fear.
How was he to get a soul, though? Trazyn had no truly useful contacts with Sautekh right now. Oh, he'd had a few contacts passing along gossip but they were fair weather friends at best. Acquaintances really… what humans might call 'cocktail party' friends. They certainly wouldn't dare Imotekh's wrath for him. And Trazyn had no contacts in the Uhnashret Dynasty at all. They hadn't been worth his time until recently.
Could he bribe someone, perhaps? Trazyn had all kinds of interesting things at his fingertips. Could he even just straight up bribe the Stormlord himself? Depending on what Imotekh was doing, there were a few items of Trazyn's collection that he might like.
Trazyn really didn't want to approach Imotekh directly, though. That would reveal his hand and was a last resort, the thing to do if all else failed. And sometimes, a really good enemy was just as useful as a friend.
It wasn't easy to slip into Orikan the Diviner's lair but Trazyn had done it before and he could do it again. So he devoted himself to that and in a relatively short time, managed to get in with a shell. It was so short, in fact, that Trazyn suspected Orikan wasn't trying.
That was confirmed when Orikan greeted him before he even spoke.
"What do you want, Trazyn?" Orikan asked, still studying the stars. Trazyn let the Cryptek he'd possessed shift into his normal body, reshaping the necrodermis into something more pleasing and comfortable.
"Have you already taken a soul?" Trazyn asked and saw a subtle stiffening in Orikan's body. Ah, he had then. "I assume that it won't interfere with your plans for our race, then." How fortunate for the Diviner, he would have been in quite a situation if it had. "What have you learned? Was I really the one to drag you to the Furnace in chains?" Trazyn wasn't sure what he would do if that memory was true, aside from apologize again.
"No." Oh… good. Trazyn was genuinely relieved to hear that it had merely been a bit of malice from the C'Tan, to spread cracks in their ranks. "Do you want to know what happened?"
"If you don't mind telling me," Trazyn said, genuinely curious. There was a pause as Orikan kept examining the stars but to Trazyn, he was organizing things in his mind and considering how to begin the story.
"I foresaw where this would lead us and tried to preserve the necrontyr as a race." Ah, really?! "I gathered my small household and took them far away. I thought I hid us well, my prognostications were that we would not be found, but in retrospect I think the C'Tan were aware of me… I think that many of them working together gave me false visions." Orikan fell silent for a moment and Trazyn could tell from minor hints, like the glowing of his ocular, that remembering this was bringing up emotions of rage. "They let us think we had outwitted them, they let me think I had protected what was dear to me, because it's so much fun to build up hope before you crush it, isn't it?" Orikan spat out the last words and Trazyn just nodded. That would be typical of the C'Tan. "Only a few hundred of us but we could have been the seed to rebuild our race."
"But no… we were uprooted before we could even properly plant ourselves. They found our hidden base and invaded it, dragging us out. They forced all the others through the Furnace before…" Orikan faltered for a moment, as if this memory still hurt. Perhaps it did. "Before pulverizing my hands. Not breaking them, destroying them. Even with treatment I would not have healed." Trazyn flinched a little at that. That was a cruel thing to do to a living Chronomancer indeed. As necrons they could always be rebuilt, but flesh had been more finicky and implants were often not capable of the incredibly precise and quick movements the art required. "Then they told me I could walk through under my own power and try to save things later, or I could die a cripple, alone in an empty world."
"So I did walk through. I made that choice. But I would never call that a willing choice," Orikan said and he sounded bitter beyond words. "You weren't there. I don't think you were even on the planet. Imotekh was there, he led the force that brought us out, but he acted like he was in a trance. I knew him fairly well and I knew that wasn't him… it wasn't any of them. So even if you had been present, it wouldn't have mattered." Orikan turned to him. "So you want this bitter gift of memory? To remember what they did to you, and those you loved?"
"Of course. I would always prefer the truth to a comforting lie," Trazyn said quietly. That was his nature, it had always been his nature and the fake memories of the chains were actually irritating now. He wanted the truth and if that truth was that he'd walked through the fires for power and position, so be it. It wasn't like he'd been given the truth of the matter.
"Do you? Do you really? One of us went insane." Really? That seemed rather weak minded. What could have – "He learned he was a traitor who had helped feed our children to the C'Tan." Oh… wait what?
"The children?" Trazyn asked and suddenly realized. He'd never thought about the children of the necrontyr. The thought of children and what had become of them had not once crossed his mind… yet, with his knowledge of the past, he knew biotransference would not work well if at all on the very young. Suddenly, Trazyn felt a dark suspicion. Why HAD he not thought of the children? "What became of the children?" Feed? The look Orikan gave him was cutting.
"You know already." …Yes… from that word choice, he did. Trazyn couldn't feel sick but his mind grappled with the staggering nature of the betrayal. Had the C'Tan stopped him from even thinking about the children of the necrontyr? "What if you find out you helped with that?" Oh, that was going too far!
"I would not have done that," Trazyn snapped back. "I know myself better than that!" There was simply no way. "And if such a thing was somehow true, I would choose to honorably end my own life." Orikan tilted his head skeptically.
"We had no idea with him. He was always so quiet and industrious, a competent and well-liked Overlord…" Orikan paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No, no, I shouldn't think that of you. They say it's always the quiet ones and you are anything but that." True enough, no one had ever accused Trazyn of being quiet. Well, except when he was essentially sleeping through a court meeting. "I foresaw that you would come to me and we have two demands." So Imotekh had sanctioned this. Well, that was probably for the best. "Firstly, and this is the minor one, since you'll probably do it anyway… when it comes time for us to approach the Nihilakh directly, we want you to promote this to them." Yes, he would do that anyway, if it was as positive as he suspected. "Secondly… this might seem peculiar, but my prognostications indicate one item will be very valuable to us in the long term. We want the clone of the Primarch Fulgrim." That set Trazyn back on his heels for a moment.
"Why do you want that?" Trazyn asked to buy himself a bit of time as he considered it. That was one of his most precious items, something that was genuinely irreplaceable. If he was willing to wait, he might be able to get a soul without giving up a thing… or not, if Nihilakh stayed loyal to the Silent King. Was he willing to take that chance? Was the clone worth it? Orikan was silent for a moment and seemed reluctant, but finally divulged the reason.
"We will be having peace talks with the Imperium of Man. With that, along with one other thing, we will demand several worlds be ceded to us and also a formal arrangement of trade with relatively minimal tithes on both sides." Ah… a favorable trade arrangement with something that large… yes, Trazyn could see how that would be incredibly valuable. Still, given the violent xenophobia of the Imperium it almost boggled the mind.
"You would actually trust the Imperium to hold up such a peace treaty?" He allowed the disbelief to enter his voice. Orikan shook his head.
"Not exactly. We trust Roboute Guilliman to uphold a peace treaty." Ah. "I suppose you could say we are not making a peace treaty with the Imperium at all, but rather a treaty with Guilliman himself, and possibly his brother Primarchs."
"That could work," Trazyn allowed. Trusting the Imperium as a whole to uphold something was like trusting a rotten branch to take your weight. Even if the high council at the time was sincere, they changed regularly and the Imperium was a bureaucratic nightmare that put ancient byzantine to shame. However, the Primarchs were incredibly long lived and could perhaps be counted upon to uphold their personal oaths, particularly if the arrangement was mutually beneficial. "I suppose the same is true of us, although to a lesser degree." If Imotekh died, would his successor necessarily feel bound by a treaty? Possibly not, particularly if he'd been the one to murder the Stormlord. Unlikely to happen, of course, but impossible? No.
"Indeed. I am no diplomat but I wouldn't be surprised if they even include that in the treaty, that it will be considered void on the death of the major signatures." Fair enough. "So what exactly is that clone worth to you?" …
"Can I at least keep it until the peace talks?" Trazyn asked wistfully. He could take some samples and holo stills and various things, images of the Fulgrim clone posed with other items in his collection. It wasn't as good as actually having the clone but it was something.
"Oh certainly, that would actually be more convenient for us." Excellent! "We do trust you to uphold a bargain so we can arrange the delivery before the peace talks. It might be years." Even better! That would give him plenty of time. "As for the soul, we can do that right now." Perfect! "Do you remember someone named Semephren?"
"Semephren?" Trazyn had to think very hard but that name did ring a bell. "Yes… I think so… a nephew? But I thought he was dead?" The name only resonated from vague recollections of the Flesh Times, which normally indicated someone who had died before biotransference. The fact that Trazyn remembered him at all indicated he'd either detested him or liked him, it was hard to say which.
"No, he survived, but apparently he was stolen by the Charnovokh." What? How? "He was wandering around and happened to be on one of their worlds when biotransference happened. The C'Tan decided in what we think was just infinite laziness, to completely wipe his mind and leave him there." Oh. Well, Trazyn could easily imagine them doing that. "He was one of our test subjects for the resouling operation and seems to have lucked into a psyker soul." Wait, they could be psychically active?! "He will be completing your resouling."
"We can have psyker abilities? Could I have a soul like that?" Trazyn asked, keenly interested. Orikan rolled his ocular.
"I knew you would ask that… Trazyn, they come with all the disadvantages human psykers suffer." Oh… they would, wouldn't they. "We're managing it with blackstone but with all the odd things you keep in Solemnance, I really don't recommend it. It's hard for me to tease out the strands of fate when Solemnance is involved, but I see indications of doom if you possess such a soul. I strongly recommend you save that for some reliable crypteks under your command that you can easily load up with blackstone when their powers aren't needed." Trazyn was disappointed but Orikan was right, that would be more prudent. He knew himself and knew he would be tempted to explore the Warp in some highly inappropriate ways, if he had the ability to do so.
Trazyn watched curiously as a fairly typical Cryptek entered the room. He was tall and slender and moved in a way that seemed oddly familiar to Trazyn, a very fast walk. He had taken up the silver and symbol of Sautekh, now inscribed on his chest cartouche. To Trazyn's surprise, though, he was wearing what looked like a cloak of fine silk ropes. The ropes were strung with rings and plaques, marks of rank and it was actually a very appealing design.
"That is quite a daring fashion statement, nephew," Trazyn said, surprising himself. Semephren flashed glyphs of delight.
"You remember me!" Honestly, not really but… that way of walking did seem to be jarring something lose in the back of his mind. It was all so tantalizingly vague, but he was recalling something. "I remember you quite clearly… I spent an entire summer with you once, helping with your archaeological dig." Really? "I can't remember most of it, I was just a child, but I distinctly remember having porridge with your family in the morning. I would tell you more, but I don't want to spoil it."
"You know, I think I actually do recall you," Trazyn murmured. An impression was rising in his mind, of a very high energy child who could nonetheless quietly concentrate on something very intensely for hours, provided he was interested enough. "I think I quite liked you." That was why the name had persisted in his mind, despite sixty million years of separation.
"While this is interesting, can you please get started?" Orikan said pointedly and Semephren nodded and opened a small case he had brought with him. Nestled inside, in a padded interior, was a globe of the ghost wood.
The resouling went exactly as Trazyn had observed with Loki. The only thing that surprised him about it was the brief but incredibly intense pain, before Semephren began spreading and customizing the soul to his body. Briefly, he pitied whoever had been used to perfect this process. That person must have had a wonderful time.
(Kallathsek would have told Trazyn to take his pity and shove it up his rectum, if he still had one)
When the process was finished, Trazyn was astonished by the change. Not that it was flashy or overt… it was actually quite subtle. But where before he had fundamentally felt dead, like something vital was gone, that vital thing had suddenly been returned. He examined his own body as if it could explain the change but it was as it always was, cold metal. And yet.
"Is this what it truly means to be alive? The soul, not the body?" Trazyn marvelled, stretching out a hand. Semephren nodded.
"We think so and the reactions of humans who undergo biotransference would seem to support it." Ah, yes, that would be useful. It would be hard for any of the necrons to remember what being alive had truly felt like but for the humans, it had been such a short time ago. "Also, the re-souled Necron Warriors, who remember only the Flesh Times… they indicate a great happiness with these bodies." Fascinating. Was this truly immortality without the drawbacks?
"Well, I think I will return to Solemnance before I explore my memories." Trazyn could already feel them, dancing at the back of his mind, but he sequestered them away for now. He wanted to be home, surrounded by those he trusted, before he immersed himself in the past. Orikan would understand and no doubt prefer it. Although. "When will I see you again, nephew?" Semephren tilted his head, thinking about.
"Probably only if we come to terms and resoul all of the Nihilakh. I'm sorry uncle but I just want to do and be around exciting things… that's Sautekh, for now and probably for a long time in the future. Maybe I'll come home someday, but maybe not, I'm just not sure." Other Overlords would have been angry at that, at the complete disloyalty, but Trazyn just felt a great affection for his nephew.
"You were always like that. Well, good luck to you." Trazyn departed the cryptek shell then, letting it crumple to the ground, but taking the soul with him. How did that work? He wasn't even sure but he'd known instinctively that it would. Which was good… if his body jumping would no longer work with a soul, Trazyn supposed he would put up with it, but he wouldn't be happy about it at all.
Body jumping had kept him alive many, many times.
The first thing Trazyn remembered was not anything he expected. It was not the customs of the necrontyr, the food, or even his work.
It was a female necrontyr. Sleeping in the bed beside him, her face smooth and serene in repose. Once she had been a great beauty, but that had been over twenty years ago. A former palace prostitute, his personal concubine and unofficial wife. The mother to his children, all six of them, just two still living. To Trazyn she was still as beautiful as the day they met and he gave her a gentle kiss, his lips lingering at the corner of her mouth. She sighed, her eyelids flickering and she woke from her sleep enough to return the affection.
"Oh Trazyn…" she murmured and nestled against him. Trazyn gently stroked back a bit of her hair, the heavy, kinky strands. Her hair was still so beautiful, just as it always had been.
"Zefreek," Trazyn murmured her name, gently kissing her again. It started to get heated and she stirred, opening her eyes. They were the typical gold flecked with green of the necrontyr.
"I wouldn't mind doing that but I really need to use the facilities first," she murmured and Trazyn chuckled softly.
"I as well. Isn't it fun, getting old? You go first, I can wait." Zefreek gave him a saucy smile before slipping out of bed. Her body was like the rest of her, aged but still beautiful and Trazyn drank her in. Ah, how he loved this female. When she was done, he pried himself out of bed, wincing a little at the aches and pains. Why did he have to be so old?
After he tended to bodily functions, they did indeed have a morning frolic and it was good. After they were done and basking in the afterglow, there was a tentative knock at the door.
"Breakfast?" Trazyn called and heard a muffled yes. "Thank you, we will be out shortly. Leave it in the dining area." The servants just didn't want the food to get cold. While it was tempting to stay in bed a bit longer, they both dragged themselves out and pulled on some light clothing. Breakfast was the usual, a heavy grain porridge sweetened with a bit of sweet butter. Trazyn took only a small amount… at his age, eating was more of a chore than anything. But he drank plenty of the tea, enjoying the heat of it on his hands.
"Ah, Trazyn, you're not eating again… have a blossom." Zefreek offered him a tiny delicacy, a pickled flower. They weren't part of the meal, they were her personal supply, she loved the little things. Trazyn smiled a little before humoring her, popping it in his mouth. It popped in a satisfying way, filling his mouth with a slightly sweet brine. That ignited his hunger a bit more and Trazyn went back to the porridge, managing to finish almost half of it. It was all so tedious but he did need to eat, stopping eating and becoming frail was how many older necrontyr passed on.
When the meal was over, they both went to their daily work. Trazyn was overseeing the digs, where new artifacts were being unearthed, and Zefreek was working with the lesser crypteks. Managing their work and also contributing to it, Zefreek was talented at removing the dirt and grime without damaging the artistry beneath.
In his personal quarters in Solemnance, Trazyn came back to himself with a feeling of deep surprise, almost shock.
"A wife and a family?" He'd had no idea. Although Trazyn suspected he knew the reason why. "Commoners…" His 'wife' had been a concubine, really and his children would not have been nobility. What had happened to them? What had happened to Zefreek?
Deeply wanting to know, Trazyn dropped back into the far-off past.
It was a day like any other.
Trazyn loved working in the field. It was a bit hard on his knees and hips, perhaps, but he would never give it up. On this world they were excavating the remains of a truly ancient necrontyr civilization, that he believed dated back to the very first days of space flight. It wasn't circling the Bitter Star – that had been destroyed long ago, by its own internal instability – but it was still quite ancient.
"Trazyn!" He didn't look up, just gently continuing his scraping. It probably wasn't important. "Overlord! Trazyn! Trazyn!" Well, someone else seemed to think it was important and he sighed, lifting his head.
"Over here!" It was a young boy who looked panicked. Trazyn regarded him indulgently as the youngster ran over. There was really nothing –
"Zefreek has collapsed! The Crypteks say you should come right away!" WHAT?! Trazyn suddenly pulled himself out of the dig, as fear pierced at his heart. Was it something serious?
He followed the boy and as soon as he reached the room with the archivist crypteks, Trazyn knew it was serious beyond words. Zefreek was lying on the floor, in front of the piece she had been working on. Her eyes were wide open and her expression looked a little surprised, as if it had all caught her off guard. Kneeling beside her Trazyn could easily see the truth of the matter… at his age, he had seen death many times.
"What happened?" He asked as he gently took her hand. She was still warm. A medical cryptek who had been examining her responded.
"We would have to check to be sure, but I believe she had a bleed in her brain. It can happen to the very old… it is swift and relatively painless, which would match what everyone saw." Ah, so Zefreek had not suffered. At least there was that. But as Trazyn gently closed her eyes, he felt the deepest sense of loss he had ever suffered in his life.
When the body was removed, taken for the funeral rites, Trazyn looked at the table and at the piece Zefreek had been working on. It was a small drinking vessel of copper, still half coated in hard rock. The part she had cleaned gleamed, as beautiful as the day it had been made. Trazyn gently picked it up and examined it.
He would keep this exactly as it was.
Trazyn the Infinite woke from that dream with a great desire.
He knew that particular piece, just as he knew everything he owned. It was in the gallery Orikan had made a mess of and it had actually gotten caught up in that chaos but being hard stone and copper, it had suffered no real damage. A bit of the stone had been knocked off and Trazyn had considered fully cleaning it, at the time, but for some reason he hadn't done it. Instead, he had just put it back, grateful that it had survived intact.
It was exactly where it should be, sitting in a little hook. Trazyn gently took it down and examined it. The patterns of stone adhered to the ancient copper were the same, aside from one small chunk that had been torn off by Orikan's barbarity.
Still here, for all this time. Still exactly as it was. For sixty million years he had kept this undisturbed without even knowing why. As Trazyn held that little cup, he felt such a great nostalgia for the past. A bittersweet sadness at remembering all they had lost… and a moment to curse the C'Tan for taking it from them.
It was painful, but remembering was indeed a beautiful thing.