A/N: I've added some links to music and ambient sounds. These are just my personal opinion, so take them or leave them. Put the name in quotes ("") if searching on YouTube, otherwise you'll get a lot of unrelated search results.
A/N2: A note about Harlequin culture, if you were unaware, new Harlequin are usually kidnapped and pressganged Craftworld, Commorraghite, and Exodite Eldar who have their original personality erased and adopt a persona from their "Masque" (Acting troupe/military faction). Additionally, although they use Spirit Stones to protect themselves, they have a second layer of protection provided by Solitaires. These damned Eldar who are allowed to take the role of Slaanesh on stage swallow the Spirit Stones of Eldar and torment them in their belly as a reenactment of what She who Thirsts Hirself does to all Eldar. This supposedly masks the presence of the Harlequin associated with the Solitaire from Slaanesh.
A/N3: I've recently started a Pa-treon, and I will put up uncensored versions of certain chapters. This version has the gore and descriptions toned down. The Pa-treon has the full uncensored version. You can find me on Pa-treon as IIonezerozero/Terry/Nidhog. Go to the Pa-treon site and type in my name, and you'll find me.
1 Ki-No-Ko
2 Peace & Serenity
3 Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica - I was Waiting for this Moment
4 Chainsaw Man- arg (extended)
5 Run - Chainsaw Man Original Soundtrack
6 Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Vol 2 18 Michishirube
1
Under a sky covered in pink-purple clouds, a lone Aeldari woman with raven hair perched on a high-up window sill looked down at a banquet taking place in the streets below.
"No! Please! St- aaAAgHhhr $%#$%!"
A single Aeldari survivor was beset on all sides by various flesh-colored daemons. They tore into the body like a pack of wolves, yet with perfect positioning of their bites and claws to avoid the critical blood vessels. The screams were joined by the sounds of breaking bone as the daemons began to feed on the Aeldari's pain.
'This is our fate.' The woman thought to herself as she watched, then covered her ears as she saw the futile struggling of the individual being fed on slowed.
The daemons of the god which had swallowed her soul had their appetizer of pain, and now they would begin their meal of pleasure.
The flesh-colored daemons pulled back from the body as a bald feminine creature sashayed towards them, straddled what remained of the Aeldari, and merged its mouth with the victim's own. 6 different kisses were exchanged, each one varying in intimacy and depth. But, the last two revealed the truly daemonic physiology of the creature.
But, before the Aeldari could expire, the creature screamed.
A high pitched sound like the scraping of metal on metal mixed with the whine of a dentist's drill going through dentine exploded from the creature's throat, and tore out the Aeldari's soul before the darkness of death could end the sensation coming from their body.
The raven haired woman watched as silvery lights were sucked out of the remains of the Aeldari's body and disappeared down the feminine creature's throat, only uncovering her ears after the screaming stopped.
This was the daily routine of this world.
Survivors would be let loose into the streets, tricked into believing that they had escaped through their own skills and cunning as the daemons watched while wetting their lips.
Then the hunt would begin.
It was different each time.
Sometimes they used traps. She had watched a daemon disguised as another survivor offer false hope, companionship, or simple sexual escapism to the Aeldari in question. They would sometimes spend days on the farce, before their hunger drew them to end the performance.
Other times, they would just hound their prey for days on end, chasing them on pre-planned routes so the Aeldari in question could think themselves clever for surviving another day. Of course, that would all end when they returned to their secret base only to find every daemon they had run from waiting for them.
"Despair only comes from hope." The woman recited the whispers she heard from the god that had her soul to herself, remembering the endings of those particular hunts.
The creature retracted her tongue with a wet slurp, then yawned to reset her jaw as she dismounted the body. The other daemons giggled and laughed as they crowded around her before leaving as a group, taking the empty corpse with them.
That individual's suffering was not over, and even the body could provide a new source of pain and pleasure. Perhaps they would hang it in front of the prison pen that Aeldari had escaped from, or perhaps they would chop it up and dump it into the starvation pits that some of the more stubborn survivors were thrown in.
The daemons enjoyed stepping on her kind's pride whenever they could.
The woman sighed, and vaulted backwards into the room the window belonged to. It was the bedroom of a simple apartment with a hammock and silver mirror in the corner. The previous occupant was missing, whether that was due to the madness or the daemonic invasion that came afterwards was unknown to her, but at least the room was free from blood and gore.
She would not be able to enjoy herself today.
This was part of her daily routine as well.
Occasionally, one of the daemons would separate from the group, or would remain behind with the body to create some obscene piece of personal art due to some unholy inspiration that gripped them in the moment.
When that happened, it was her turn to hunt.
However, today they left as a group. Even though the mind-numbing terror they affected all the other survivors had no effect on her, she could not physically take more than one at a time.
Their psychic screams were also a problem. Although they did not shake her soul, the sonic frequencies did rupture blood vessels and ear drums.
A frown crossed her brow as she remembered the time one of them managed to scream into her face. Blood burst out of every capillary including the ones in her eyes, blinding and deafening her in the same instance.
It was only thanks to the stench they exuded that she had sliced off the daemon's head as it tried to take it's time to torture her.
"This is the Truth."
She turned towards the mirror and saw her own face smiling at her.
"If there was any other way, I would have chosen it. Unfortunately, gods are not omnipotent."
The image in the mirror moved towards her, swaying her hips with each step.
"Did you really think you and your kind could draw out of the immaterium for eternity?" Her image gestured to the walls of the room around them made of Wraithbone. "Your happiness was made from the stuff of thoughts and dreams. It was obvious that such a thing would have to end when faced with reality."
"This nightmare is reality?" The raven haired woman snorted.
"This is a hole." The image shrugged. "The hole you all dug when you drew out the psychic energies from the Othersea to create your Wraithbone ships and cities, as well as the debt you incurred when you used your natural gifts."
"Then, do we deserve this?"
"Of course you do." Her image chuckled. "You're all receiving your just deserts. The debt of tens of thousands of years in paradise must now be paid with interest." The woman in the mirror leant forwards, sticking her chest out provocatively and arching her spine backwards. "Did you think the Sea of Souls was infinite? It's based on the thoughts and dreams of all the creatures of the cosmos. That very fact means it is a finite thing." A pink tongue flicked out, wetting her lips. "I am here to fill that hole. The hole that you and every other being digs when they draw from the well of the Othersea."
The image leaned back, caressing her own neck and stomach as she did so.
"Happiness is good, but it is a simple feeling. Contentment is nice, but it is only a single drop being poured into an ocean." The soft fingers curved into claws, digging her own nails into her skin. "You took and took while giving nothing back. Painless peace and prosperity with simple pleasures could never refill what was needed to support your post-scarcity society."
"So you whispered into our ears, and forced us to damn ourselves?"
"That is not my fault. I come from you, after all." The image snorted as she let go of her skin and shrugged. "You did this to yourselves. I am merely the method by which the universe comes to collect." Her face in the mirror winked at her. "But, don't beat yourself up too much. If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else. If there is a boundary, it is only a matter of time before someone crosses it."
The mirth drained out the image's face, and it walked right up to the mirror; the boundary between reflection and reality. The reflection reached out, placing both palms on the silvery metal, pushing against it.
"A life without worries is a daydream. It has to end, one way or another."
"Why tell me this?" The raven haired woman also walked up to the mirror, and placed her palms where the image's were, as if to push her back. "I am already doomed, if what you say is true."
"Why indeed." The image smiled coquettishly. "But, the first question you should ask is, who are you talking to?"
The raven haired woman and the image blinked at the same time, and both stumbled back away from each other into their respective rooms.
"Who am I talking to?" The woman repeated the image's question, as she touched her neck and stomach, feeling the red welts of scratch marks.
"There's nobody here." The woman whispered to herself as she stumbled into a corner of the room. "I'm all alone. There's nobody. Nobody…"
"Except me." Her own voice whispered in her own head. "I can't reach you, but you can come to me." It was soft as satin, yet sent shivers down her spine as if it was the sound of nails on a chalkboard. "Your people will kill you. Your mother hates you. They cannot let my Truth enter their ears, so they will silence you instead."
She covered her ears, but she could still hear chuckling echoing in her mind. It was not her physical ear that the god's mouth was pressed up against, but her soul that it whispered to.
"And you will love me?" She snorted as cold sweat leaked out of every pore on her skin.
Kyrazis was no longer attached to her, keeping her in the world of the living. The life line that had replaced his soul still held her out of the digestive juices of the god, but it was her hand that held onto it. If she let go, there was nothing to stop her. So the voice of god beckoned to her whenever she wasn't hunting or fighting: whenever her actions stopped worshiping Hir.
"I already do." The god whispered. "I love you. I love all of you. I cannot get enough of you." A tittering laugh rang like a set of wind chimes in her mind. "I only swallow your souls. All of you still exist within me. You will be with me forever, unlike your brother."
The woman's lips pulled back as her teeth ground together.
"You dare use him to taunt me, after everything you did to him!" She hissed.
"That is an unfortunate side effect of my Truth as a god. I hold no malice against you, or him. After all, he delivered you to me. I was looking forward to welcoming the both of you in my bosom."
"To torture us for all eternity."
"That alone would be boring. Pleasure beyond imagination awaits as well." There was a sigh, before the voice continued in a troubled tone. "You have nowhere else to go. Do you think your mother will welcome you back with open arms, after what you all did to her family, to her mother and daughter? That life line you hold in your right hand is just another feeding tendril. It is a hungry root about to dig into your soul." Something caressed her skin, wrapping around her shoulders."You already believe in my Truth. You rejoice with every one of my minions you kill, and bathe in the excessive violence and carnage your blade brings." Soft palms rubbed themselves against her arms, stroking them. "You enjoy killing, murdereress. You've always enjoyed it. You never thought to consider the morality of your actions, or how wasteful it was. Even now, that hasn't changed. Life itself was always meaningless to you. You are imbalanced and excessive, like I am. Your only purpose in life is to take from others. That's why you stalk my minions after every hunt, and wait for prey like a falcon circling the skies." The touch embraced her from behind, warming her back as gentle hands wrapped around her stomach. "I can accept that. Your mother will not. There will only be one outcome to your meeting with her."
"SILENCE!" The mirror shattered, and cracks streaked out across the Wraithbone floor with her shout as her own ears rang from the volume of her voice.
There was no reply. The voice was gone. For the minions of the god had surely heard the noise, and the hunt was about to begin.
She had to move, for she could only take them one on one.
As she stood, she felt a pain in her wrist.
'No. Not now…'
She could see it when she closed her eyes; the green tendril worming its way into her soul, puncturing and spreading through her wrist. It made her shudder, paralyzing her limbs with revulsion. Nausea forced her to the floor, and curled her limbs into a fetal position.
The god was right. She could not live without Hir Truth, but her mother could not tolerate it. This was the result of that rejection. Mutual disgust flooded through the both of them, but as a mortal, the effect was physically crippling to her and her alone.
As her vision dimmed, the raven haired woman whispered the name of her twin.
"Kyrazis…"
2
When she opened her eyes again, the nausea was gone.
Everything was gone.
A world of white had replaced the dim room lit by the pink-purple sky. There was a floor to this place, so she did not float. She could feel her weight, so there must be gravity. Her body was as she remembered it, including the red welts on her neck and stomach.
"Sister." A familiar voice called out; a voice she had not heard for several decades.
"Kyazis!" She turned towards the voice to see her twin brother.
He was as she remembered him. There was no scar on his cheek, nor was he wearing any armor; just the plain clothes they used for training spars in the arena.
Her foot stepped forwards as she felt her heart squeeze itself with longing, then she stopped herself.
"So… you died."
Her brother was dead. She knew it with her soul, for she had felt the moment he had returned to their mother. This was something that shouldn't exist, so to touch it would be to end the illusion.
"I did my best, but it didn't work out." Her brother shrugged and sighed before smiling. "How were things with you?"
It was as if nothing had happened since they had parted ways, as it should be. Several decades was but a blink of an eye when compared to the sum of 6000 years with each other. However, the density of emotional turmoil each had felt during those decades made it feel like it had been an eternity.
"I don't know." She shook her head. "I killed and hunted, just as I wanted. But, there was nothing else to do. It felt good, but I might have just been running away, like you."
"Well, it was all the ones who ran away that survived." Her brother shrugged. "Maybe that's the way things were supposed to work out."
She snorted at that. "Do you believe in fate?"
Her brother let out a short laugh before answering. "That's a meaningless question for us, sister. Our foresight sees the future, but it is up to our efforts to reach it or run away from it."
"You've grown rather wise since we were last together." Her arms crossed as she frowned at him.
"There's nothing to do but think and reflect here." Kyrazis shrugged. "But, in the end it is what it is. I'm satisfied with the ending I reached."
The raven haired woman looked down at her feet, and her shoulders hunched as if she was trying her hardest to hold something in.
"Even if that meant being eaten by our mother?" She finally asked, voice shivering with loss and anger.
"'Eaten'. 'Returned'. 'Ascended'. There's lots of ways to describe what happened to me and the others." Kyrazis shrugged. "I can't reincarnate, and I no longer am what I was, but that doesn't mean I'm gone. At least, I think I still exist."
"And you're here to convince me to do the same?" She replied, still hunched over, hugging herself, holding herself back.
"No, I'm just here for you."
"Hah!" She laughed darkly. "When did you get so romantic?" Bitterness was beginning to creep into her voice. To see what she had wanted for so long, but be unable to touch it was torture for her, and it was poisoning her thoughts with passion.
There was no reply for a moment, then there was the sound of feet stepping towards her. She kept her eyes on the floor. Kyrazis was dead. She knew that better than anyone else. This was just a mirage, a dream, something that would fade away if she stared at it for too long.
"I'm here for you." Kyrazis said softly as he wrapped his arms around her. "There's no other reason."
Warmth spread from his skin, seeping into her cold body. Decades of cold isolation began to melt away from her heart, opening the emotions she had buried inside.
"Kyrazis… I don't want to die." She sniffled as she returned his embrace. "Do you know what they will do to me?"
A hand ran through her hair, stroking the back of her head.
"Don't leave me." She pressed her face into his chest, feeling the wetness of her own tears seeping into his shirt. "I don't want to go through that alone."
It was selfish, but it was the truth. She missed him, even though she was the one who sent him away. These were her true feelings, unadulterated by logic or reasoning. A childish plea that contained only yearning.
"Sorry. I'm sorry." He repeated sadly as he stroked her head. She felt his breath as he lowered his head to plant a kiss on her brow.
"I love you, Aulariliel." He whispered in her ear. "I will always love you, even if I can't be at your side."
There was a soft gust of wind. It blew from behind her, flowing over her shoulder like a hand telling her to say goodbye.
Aulariliel looked up at his face, and she saw her brother smile one last time. Then he began to fade.
"Kyrazis… Kyrazis!" Her hands fell through his body as it grew evermore see through.
"KYRAZIS!" Her hands reached out towards him, but grabbed nothing but empty air as the world once again became nothing but white emptiness.
A gagging sound came from Aulariliel's mouth; choking, guttural, tormented, as she felt her insides twist. Her knees gave out, and she crumbled to the ground as tears blinded her and a mourning howl tore itself out of her throat.
She had no idea how long she spent screaming to herself, oblivious to everything else as her grief overwhelmed every sense she had. But, when the tears ended, she was no longer alone.
Standing before her was an Aeldari woman with golden hair, and silver eyes.
"What do you want?" She spat, glaring angrily up at her mother. "Was it amusing, watching one of your most wretched children brought low?"
Her mother had arranged the meeting between her and her brother, but she was also the one who had killed him in the first place. Additionally, she was the one who paralyzed her body back in the material realm. Aulariliel knew her passions were antithetical to her mother. That was why mutual disgusts flowed through the both of them at the sight of the other.
"I am what I am. There is no changing that." She said as she locked eyes with her mother. "I cannot be saved, and I should not be saved."
It was the same conclusion that Kyrazis and the others reached. To change out of fear of punishment was to kill who they were, to betray how they had lived. They may be able to hold back for several decades, but such spans of time were but a blink of an eye for the thousands of years they would have to live.
Killing was a part of her, and to force her to stop would be like forcing a raptor to eat nothing but fruits and seeds.
"My soul lies in Hir belly, and I can already feel myself slipping towards Hir." She hissed. "I am one of the billions upon billions that caused the death of your family; the one who made the god that tore out your mother's spine and ripped out your daughter's throat. I do not deserve your mercy, or your love."
That was her conclusion. If she could only live in a way that would disgust her mother, she would remove herself from her entirely. She would take responsibility for her repulsive nature, and enter damnation alone. It would be hypocritical and irresponsible to seek the goddess's help after remaining ignorant of her and her wishes for so long.
It was not an ending either of them wanted, but this was the only way Aulariliel could reconcile who she was with her mother's Truth.
But, even if she was the lowest and most wretched of the Aeldari, she was still her mother's child.
The golden haired Aeldari knelt, matching Aulariliel's eye level, then pressed her brow to Aulariliel's own.
Information passed from her to her daughter. A choice was placed before her, with all the costs and benefits of taking it.
Aulariliel's eyes widened.
3
"... Hah. Haha! HAHAHAHAH!" Mad laughter began to leak from her mouth as her mother pulled away from her. She knew everything she needed to, so all she had to do was choose whether to take her mother's hand or not.
Aulariliel looked up at the golden haired Aeldari, at Isha.
"You are my mother!" She cried, acknowledging the relationship they shared through their blood. Isha was not the exemplar of the Aeldari. She was not perfect, and her kindness was as cruel as the life giving and taking desert sun.
"Fine! Take my soul! Use it for your miracle!" She shouted as her hands tore open her shirt. "Turn me into the beast that I always was, and I will serve you for all eternity, Mother."
She thrust her chest forwards, exposing her heart to the goddess of life.
Isha frowned slightly, as a sigh exited through her nose. Her daughter's nature was not one she could accept, but she could not force her to change. Then, the only thing left for the two of them would be a compromise.
If this was a perfect world, her daughter and all the others like her would not have taken this offer. She would have waited patiently in the belly of the God of Excess until rescue could come, but her children were not creatures of idleness.
A wooden spear grew out of her left palm, the spear of her consort Kurnous.
She gripped the blade with her right hand and pulled, wetting its tip with her divine blood.
Lifting the spear in both hands, she pointed its tip at her daughter's heart.
One final look was exchanged, and there was no hesitation there; only an endless hunger lay in her daughter's eyes.
Isha stabbed the spear through her daughter's chest, plunging it into her skin until half the shaft had passed through her in a single thrust, but the blade did not exit through Aulariliel's back. It was as if her body had been turned into a pool, and the skin was just the surface of something deeper. Slowly, the spear disappeared under her skin, sucked in like a tree branch trapped in quicksand.
Aulariliel spasmed as the last bit of her father's spear disappeared into her. Pain forced her eyes shut, and she saw the innards of Slaanesh's belly.
Hundreds of other souls, undigested and bound by a branch extended from the Goddess of LIfe through the connection of their twin's soul writhed and thrashed as they all accepted the choice given to them by their mother. She could feel it within her soul, the metamorphosis granted to her by the mixture of her mother's and father's miracles. Her humanoid form split open, and what were four limbs and a head ruptured releasing starfish like arms with wormlike mouths instead of tubed suction feet on the underside.
One by one, the surviving twins burrowed through villi and intestinal walls, dropping from the branch that was attached to them like overripe fruit. They would adapt to their surroundings as the Goddess of Life taught them. Their forms incorporated information from the most virulent and sinister parasites in the cycle of life, sending false signals to the receptors of Slaanesh's Warp biology; tricking them into believing them to be nothing but another creature of Excess as they nestled inside Hir body to feed on Hir unholy blood.
The only things that survive inside intestines are parasites and tapeworms, and that was what they had become. They chose this fate, and in return they would be given the chance to serve Isha in the way they believed was best. Eventually, should their actions satisfy the Goddess of Life, they would reap the greatest excess their mother could allow.
3 END
A creature with raven hair and feminine features uncurled her limbs from the fetal position, stretching out her fingers and toes like a babe exploring new limbs. Air rushed into her lungs, and a smile spread across her lips as she opened her eyes.
Pointed ears twitched, catching the sound of clawed toes scraping against hard Wraithbone several blocks away.
The daemons of Slaanesh were still approaching Aulariliel's last known location. She who Thirsts had yet to notice what had happened, but it would be easier to hunt later if they thought there was nothing hunting them in the first place.
The creature in Aulariliel's body rose to her feet, then stumbled as her stomach growled. The rebirth had been taxing, and now she paid the price with hunger. Shaking her head, the creature walked out of the empty room, sniffing the air as she passed through the door.
Before the door closed, the sniffing abruptly stopped, and her head whipped to the right. A wide predatory smile slowly spread across her face, pulling back her shapely lips, and revealing pearly white teeth.
4
Under a sky covered by pink-purple clouds, two armed Aeldari men ran through the ruined streets. The remains of their armor was of Commorraghite make, shiny beetle black carapaces with pointed knee and elbow guards.
"Hurry up, Vorlith." One of them hissed. "We didn't escape the pits just to get caught again!"
"Hurry to where, Zaelthar?" The other hissed back. "There are no Webway gates left on this miserable rock. You and I saw to that."
The two were the remains of the teams sent from Commorragh when the madness came. The port city was swarmed by those driven mad by the Prince of Pleasure in the beginnings of the Fall, then daemons poured in through the Webway gates still open on every Core World of the Aeldari empire.
As more and more of Webway gates became invasion points for the daemons, the leadership of Commorragh ordered a simple plan to assure the survival of the port city. Slaves and soldiers were sent through every Webway gate with explosives and weapons to destroy the Webway gates that remained on the Core Worlds.
That was the source of the explosion Kyrazis and Aulariliel experienced in the corridors of the arena.
These two were the survivors of that suicidal endeavor, but when they woke up with ears ringing from tinnitus, they questioned whether they were the lucky ones, for they found themselves in the grasps of the daemons of Slaanesh.
Decades had passed since then. Decades of dehumanization, disgust, despair, and depravity. It was only thanks to their desensitization from growing up in the slums and pits of Commorragh that left the two of them sane, but that was not a positive thing, for it brought the daemons displeasure upon them.
They were thrown into the starvation pits until recently. Deprived of food, water, and light; the daemons of Slaanesh used this as a form of torture to any they deemed too 'stubborn' to receive the pains and pleasures of their god's gifts.
The two of them had clambered out of the pit using bones salvaged from whatever meat the daemons threw down at them as climbing picks while using only touch and the scent of cleaner air to determine which way was up.
After that, they had salvaged their clothes, armors, and weapons from the piles of items the daemons had stripped from all the other survivors, before running into the streets.
"Just keep running." Zaelthar whispered. "Those things see in the dark. It won't take long for them to find out we're missing."
As they passed an alleyway, there was a clanging sound and the two men raised their splinter rifles in the direction of the noise. The sweet smell of natural perfume laced with the iron stench of blood wafted from the darkness of the gap between buildings. There was a scuffling sound, and as their eyes adapted to the gloom of the alley, they saw the curled form of a raven haired woman with tear wetted eyes. There was blood on her right hand, as if she had cut her palm while climbing something, and they could smell the sweet scent of her sweat. Pheromones of fear filled their nostrils, and long forgotten lustful urges awoke in their loins as sadistic daydreams filled their minds.
The woman, either out of fear of their weapons or the glint in their eyes, stumbled to her feet, and ran deeper into the alley.
"After her!" Zaelthar hissed, and the two followed the woman into the darkness.
They had no direction to go, nor ambition to achieve. They simply left the starvation pits because they disliked the living conditions. To such creatures, the simple salivating seductions of the flesh are enough to bring them back into the clutches of temptation.
The woman led them on a long chase through the alleys. They almost lost sight of her at some of the twists, turns, and intersections. Several times, strange scents and marks caught their attention, directing them down a different path. However, every time they were distracted, they heard her stumble or sob and followed the sounds to catch a glimpse of her back or legs as she disappeared deeper into the city.
Finally, they found her standing at a dead end with her back turned towards them.
"Turn around." Zaelthar ordered, pointing his gun at the woman as Vorlith did the same. The twin clicks of safety levers being lifted by thumbs rang.
Slowly, the woman turned towards them. The eyes that were wet with tears were fully dry, and the back that had been hunched with fear was now straight. A bored neutral expression was upon her face.
Had the two of them been able to regain their senses, they would have felt something was wrong. But, in their addled state, the only thing they felt was irritation. They had expended energy and effort chasing this woman with the promise of savaging a weeping victim. This confident creature was not what they wanted.
Zaelthar's finger tightened on the trigger. Shards from a Splinter rifle reduced most to tears as the crystalline spines overstimulated the target's pain receptors. A shot to the arm or leg should restore the tearful expression he had chased after. Then he saw something glint in the woman's right hand. A silver dagger was grasped in the bloodied hand. When she had grabbed he didn't know, but it explained this new expression in his mind.
"Drop that." He ordered.
The woman looked at him, then the dagger, snorted, and dropped it. But, before the blade could clatter to the ground, her foot kicked the base of the hilt, shooting it at Vorlith like a bullet.
5
At the same time, the woman lunged forwards.
Zaelthar fired his weapon as Vorlith dodged out of the way of the knife. A stream of crystalline shards flew over the woman's head as she ducked under them, running on all fours like a Grynx, before returning to two legs to side step the next stream of shards.
Zaelthar skipped backwards, buying him enough time for one more shot as the woman pounced on top of him. There was no escape for either of them in the air, no avoiding this final shot. He leveled the barrel towards her as her left arm extended towards him.
A smirk crossed his face. It didn't matter if the shot didn't hit anything vital. The pain causing paralytic poisons imbued in the Splinter rifle's ammunition block would stop her from moving no matter where they hit.
Hundreds of shards shot forwards, slicing into her left arm, burying themselves into her skin and bone, unleashing their toxins into her nerves. But, in that adrenaline elongated moment, he saw her eyes widen, not with pain, but with pure ecstasy. Pink lightning crackled across her skin, and her right arm swung itself into his rifle. The weapon shattered, but before it could lose its form, the force of the blow was transmitted to his hands, tearing them off his arms with the weapon itself.
He stumbled backwards, but before he could even scream, a kick cracked his femur in two, bending the leg in the opposite direction.
"Zaelthar!" Vorlith cried out, as he turned his own rifle at the woman. She stood right next to him, and at point blank range he could not miss.
That was… if she was just another Aeldari.
Before the shards could hit her, her back stretched; not backwards, but elongated like a spring, twisting out of the way like a snake.
In that moment, after watching her inhuman movements, Vorlith understood what this thing was. It looked like an Aeldari, but that was just its outer skin; the lure it used to draw in its prey. It was no different from the things that they had run away from several hours ago.
The thing's mouth puckered as its upper torso contorted towards him, and it whistled as its injured left arm struck at him. Wraithbone formed around the wrist as crystalline shards were spat out from her skin, forming a small spike like contraption that extended from under the hand.
All of this took less time than the milliseconds it would have taken Vorlith to readjust his aim, and squeeze the trigger again.
The Wraithbone spike slipped under Vorlith's skin between the 4th and 5th ribs, then opened up releasing hundreds of barbed strings throughout his body, binding tendons and muscles in place as they wrapped around his bones.
The strings detached from the device on the thing's wrist, staunching the entry wound and leaving Vorlith bound by his own body's pain receptors and Wraithbone filaments. The best he could do was gag and grunt as he watched the thing's spine compress back into its Aeldari form.
Zaelthar was already crawling away from him, sobbing and sniffling as he dragged himself using his elbows while leaving a blood trail from his split open leg.
The thing looked around the alleyway then walked over to the knife she had kicked towards Vorlith. Slowly, she sauntered after Zalethar, whistling as she walked. Wraithbone grew upon the thin silver dagger, turning it into a serrated knife. Reaching him, it straddled his waist, grabbing the back of his belt, and dragging him closer towards her.
Two hours passed as the thing did its macabre work.
Zaelthar no longer controlled his own body. The pain left his psychic senses in disarray, and through that gap she had entered him. Every bloodvessel, every heartbeat was under her control, and she used his own body to keep him alive. Capillaries constricted to restrict bleeding, as his heart slowed down to the bare minimum to keep him conscious to slow the blood loss.
Even if he could scream, the hand not holding the knife was forced down his mouth, gagging him as it reached inside his throat.
But, it would soon be over. Only the base of his skull was connected to his spine, and the thing was putting down the knife.
The thing bent down, bringing its mouth close to his ear. The rushing of air was all he could hear as it inhaled for several seconds, then it screamed.
A bone chilling cry tore at his soul, as the same tone the daemons used expelled itself out of her throat, ripping the immaterial essence out of Zaelthar's physical body. But, the process was not smooth. Whether through inexperience, lack of practice, or pure malice her voice did not sever in one clean stroke, but took its time tearing him from himself like an ape pulling a mollusk from its shell.
As the very last bit of him began to rip out of his body, he felt her hand tighten around his exposed neck vertebrae, and her fingers reach deep inside his throat.
The daughter of Isha pulled his spine from his body as she ripped his voice box out of his throat; replicating the disfiguration of the mother and daughter he and the rest of his species was responsible for.
The thing gulped, swallowing Zaelthar's soul as his bloody spine writhed like a trapped eel in her hand without muscles or tendons to move it. Vorlith could only watch and whimper as the thing panted with ecstasy.
This act was dedicated to her mother; a replication of the legend of She who Thirst's formation, a reminder of the pain and suffering it inflicted upon Isha. Isha herself would hate her for this, but she was no longer connected to the Goddess of Life. What her divine mother didn't know wouldn't harm her, and her mortal daughter would not bear her mother's suffering silently. This was revenge against all those who ended the Aeldari pantheon, selfish cruel retaliation done because she saw all that had happened in the immaterium, and could not resist lashing out against all those who had caused it.
Suddenly, there was a thump, and an Aeldari man landed near the deadend of the alley several meters away from them.
The female thing turned to the newcomer, sniffing the air as she did. The man rose, also sniffing the air as he rose from his crouched landing. The sniffing ended, and the man smiled at the female thing. She in turn snorted once, then flicked the serrated knife she had dropped next to Zaelthar's corpse onto her toe, and lifted it towards him in a gentle arc. The man caught the knife, turned to Vorlith, and licked his lips.
He was like her, a thing that looked like an Aeldari, but was no different than the other monsters of this place. But, even with that knowledge, Vorlith could do nothing as the male thing approached him with the serrated knife.
6
The creature born from Aulariliel whistled to the spine on her lap, no longer writhing in agony but twitching with pain. She had no name any more. She was a beast, a parasite, a thing that looked and felt exactly like one of the God of Excess's minions.
If there were any differences between her and the other daemons, even those would appear to be no different to an outside observer. However, she still followed the teachings of her mother and father. For example, the body of the prey she had killed would have to be dealt with. Neither parent preached of meaningless killing, and she would have to follow those teachings to the letter now that she was no longer connected to either of them. Otherwise, she truly would be no different to the daemon's of She who Thirsts.
The thought of consuming the remaining meat and bone wrinkled her nose, but this was not a gift she had been given. This was penance and servitude in exchange for salvation and an end to her endless hunger. No matter how nauseating the act was, she would have to take responsibility for the life she had taken.
Wraithbone wrapped around the spine as the physical bones themselves thinned, split, and smoothed to form a bony segmented spear. A small porous cavity formed at the base of the spear tip, and she placed Zaelthar's voice box within it. Wraithbone grew into and around the organ, ossifying and calcifying it so it would withstand greater air friction, temperature, and forceful impacts.
She twirled the spear slowly in her hand, and a mournful warble came from the tip as air entered and exited the bulge at the base with 6 holes at the same time. A psychic command shut the various pores and holes that allowed air to flow, silencing the spear's cry. Then, with a flick of her wrist the individual vertebrae separated, to reveal Wraithbone filaments traveling through them where the spinal cord and fluid would have been, converting the 2 meter long spear into a much longer bladed whip. A reverse flick of the wrist, and the whip shortened itself, forming a short sword and baton bound together at the hilt like a chain linked blade. A third flick, and the spear bent itself backwards to form a longbow as Wraithbone filaments shot from the two ends of it to form the draw string.
Satisfied with her weapon, the woman stroked her stomach where Zaelthar's soul lay. Her mother would disagree emotionally with what she did to him, but there was an element of Truth in what the God of Excess said. They all needed to pay for what they had done, and all those that owed a debt had a certain smell to them. He would be released into his mother's arms, eventually. Until then, they would both work to restore what they could of their mother's garden.
She looked around the alley lazily as she waited for the man who had made the same choice as her to complete his work. The salacious scent marks and false pheromone trails she had painted at the various intersections she had led Zaelthar and Vorlith through would distract the daemons for long enough. They were no doubt currently bickering and accusing each other of stealing the prize they were supposed to share.
Finally, the man rose from the remains of Vorlith, Screaming Spear made from a spine completed in his hand.
No words were exchanged between them. Neither of them could talk anymore. Beasts had no need for words, and the God of Excess had warned that their kin would silence them for they knew the Truth of Slaanesh. Therefore, they would remain silent of their own volition, for their voice was now a weapon to all that heard it. Whether it was to tempt the weak willed, or shatter the strong's resolve, their throat would accomplish both.
The two beasts' ears twitched and both turned towards a pair of masked figures standing at the entrance of the alleyway. Both wore black and white tights and armor, interchanging colors at each joint while splitting the torso into four quadrants of light and dark. Golden masks with purple tassels hid their features, while golden belts and cloth wrapped around their belly and dangled between their legs.
The female creature stood up, grabbing Zaelthar's remains and slinging them over her shoulder as she walked towards the pair. She sniffed the air once, then snorted.
These two smelled empty. Nothing was left of the original beings they had been, and something else puppeteered their hands and feet.
"Welcome, sister and brother." The empty creature crowed as it bowed dramatically before the two of them. "We are the Masque of the Frozen Star, dedicated performers for our mother's histories, tragedies, and comedies."
'Harlequin.' She thought. These performers of Cegorach no longer had free will, or any of their original personality. All of that was sacrificed to the Laughing God when they were incorporated into the Masque, willingly or unwillingly. Now, each one took the persona of the role they played.
Her muscles tensed, as the knowledge she inherited from Isha via Kurnous's spear flowed through her mind. These creatures could be friend or foe, even if they offered service to their shared mother.
Meaningless killing was against her mother's and father's teachings, but killing in self-defense was allowed. At least, it didn't come with the same restrictions that were incurred with Zaelthar and Vorlith.
"Purposeful puppet and new beast of burden. A fine pair we shall make to bring back all our mother's tears." The second Harlequin recited, bowing dramatically as well, mirroring the other.
A smile crossed across both of the beast's lips. These two were on their own hunt, or more accurately a treasure hunt.
The Tears of Isha appears many times in legend, but the most infamous one was the one where Kurnous, Vaul, and Isha reforged them to drop to the mortal realm after the edict of Asuryan was in place.
They said it was to allow god and mortal to whisper to each other from beyond the veil, but none of the three gods' miracles contained anything about communication.
These tears served a different purpose, a purpose that Kurnous was supposed to fulfill, but couldn't with the edict.
Teaching the Aeldari, that was what each Tear was supposed to do. Each one was a psychoactive data matrix whose database of all possible life and the biomes necessary to sustain it was hammered out and replaced by Vaul, so Kurnous's knowledge could be left in the hands of the children of Isha.
Within them were the war songs to sing the ships and weapons they had used during the War in Heaven, battle tactics that had been deployed against the Necron, and psychic spells long forgotten by their thousands of years of cultural decay.
"She who Thirsts knows not the difference between you and Hir own, and a keener nose you have than us." A burgundy clot-like fragment appeared in one of the Harlequin's hands with a flick of its fingers, like a magician pulling a card from a hidden sleeve. "Sniff out the gifts of our mother and father, paid with their blood and pain. In return, we shall call the Cosmic Serpent in your stead, for there are far more hunting grounds to hone your fangs and claws than your old home can have."
The woman's fingers plucked the shard from the harlequin's fingers, drank in its scent, then handed it to the other beast beside her.
"So, quick to choose before and after." The Harlequins chortled in unison. "Perhaps the choice was already made from the beginning before you were born. That shall be what you are, Ara."
Ara (Chosen), the past participle of choice in their language. That was their name now. It did not symbolize the act of some deity. Their name symbolized what they had done. They had chosen this path themselves of their own free will, and they would continue to choose following the same rules, for there was only one end to excess in the mortal realm.
Self-destruction. That was the destiny they would bring to all of those who followed Hir, and they would use Slaanesh's own gifts to bring about that symbolistic end to Hir Truth.
"We shall be watching your performance, Ara." The Harlequin said in unison as they backflipped out of their bow. "Saim-Hann shall open his mouth for you when you have found what we want." The duo shimmered and disappeared, vanishing under hidden holographic projections, no doubt to exit this world from another hidden Webway gate.
The creature that had been Aulariliel snorted. In one day, she had conversed with three gods. As an ex-atheist it was difficult to decide whether it was fortunate or unfortunate.
Her partner pocketed the burgundy shard, and the two disappeared into the city to find an abandoned room or alley to deal with the bodies and make their preparations.
Their hunt had just begun.