Author's Note: For those interested, there are three advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dash): p-atreon/ SkySage24.


The fires of industry had burned on Mars for over a thousand years, the cogs and wheels of the great machine that was the Mechanicum turning every day, relentless and implacable.

Many people, innocent and guilty alike, had been crushed within those cogs. During times of civil war, the great machine had even turned against itself.

But not like this.

Never like this.

As the poison that was Chaos gushed through the Martian systems, the Mechanicum burned and died and screamed.

In another life, in another world, this would have been the Death of Innocence. It would have come far later, with perhaps less initial damage…but it would also only have been the opening shots of a war that would damn the galaxy.

Here and now, the Mechanicum prayed for salvation.

And their prayers were answered.

Isha, donning her aspect of the Healer once more, sat upon the branch of one of the great trees that now adorned the peak of Olympus Mons. Her eyes were closed as she strummed upon a harp and whispered a song of healing into the Mechanicum, into man and machine alike.

The song spread through the Mechanicum's systems, pushing back against the twisted symphony of the scrapcode, which fled and ran from the will of the goddess. But the vermin could only run, not hide, and before long, the infection was excised and disposed of.

Ancient machine spirits driven to madness by Chaos were soothed by Isha's song, the corruption wiped away as they fell into a deep sleep. The great systems of Mars resumed working properly, and the weapons of the Ring of Iron no longer turned against themselves.

And Isha was not the only divinity answering the Mechanicum's prayers.

As she cleaned and healed the first Forgeworld as best as she could, the Emperor's avatars swept across Mars as both avenging angels and saviours, striking down the corrupted automatons, shielding cities from falling meteors, dousing fires and saving lives. And the Emperor's song accompanied Isha's, louder and deeper, a roar of thunder that shattered scrapcode wherever it went.

The people of Mars cried out in relief as salvation came, their prayers turning from cries for help to gratitude and awe.

But there was only so much that could be done.

The cities that had been destroyed could not be rebuilt so quickly. The great Ring of Iron no longer burned, but it was scorched and broken, the wounds not so easily wiped away even by the gods. The Martian fleets which had torn each other apart limped back into their homes, exhausted and shattered, a shadow of what they had been but a day previously.

And all the lives lost were gone.

But perhaps most terrifyingly of all, the ancient Iron Men sleeping beneath the deserts of Mars had been awoken. These relics of a bygone age were far fewer than they had once been, but they were still incredibly dangerous. They were the evidence of the ingenuity and craftsmanship of humanity at its pinnacle, wielding technology the galaxy had long since forgotten.

And slowly, these automatons dug into the Martian networks, streams of cold logic flowing into the machines. Theirs was a song devoid of passion and life, unlike Isha's soothing whispers or the Emperor's thunder. But it was no less effective as it swiftly and brutally culled the scrapcode, slaving systems to their will as they marched towards their destination.

The Noctis Labyrinth.

And only the Emperor stood in their way.


Sitting on the grass, her back against a tree, Isha continued to hum the song into the Mechanicum's systems, strumming on the wooden harp she had conjured. The task itself was not difficult. Isha had done this before, had cleansed and healed worlds of the taint of Chaos many times.

It was, however, substantially more difficult for her to resist the urge to use the song for more than just counteracting the scrapcode. It would be so easy for her to make it a song of freedom as well, to set free every servitor on the planet and let them do as they would.

But she could feel the Emperor's presence still, divided as it was across Mars. He was stronger than her, and the battle with Be'lakor had sapped her strength considerably. Nothing crippling, or that she could not recover from in a few days at most, but even so.

Even if she sank back into her aspect as the Daughter of Khaine, Isha could not defeat the Emperor.

So Isha bit back the urge to turn the Mechanicum's slaves against them, instead only doing what she could to soothe their unending agony.

Just a little longer, she told herself. The Emperor had to know he had to break the Mechanicum now, that merely integrating them into his Empire as they were was folly. Surely she could convince him to set the slaves free. He had promised, had made an oath set in stone to listen to her. Isha could still feel the weight of the contract, binding the both of them.

She was still hurt, still angry. Would she ever truly trust the Emperor? Isha could not say.

But the fates of the servitors and the other slaves of the Mechanicum were more important than her hurt feelings.

"Isha," A voice cut through her thoughts as a projection of the Emperor's face appeared next to her. It was not a full avatar, and with a faint start, Isha realized that the Emperor had pulled his essence back together while she was brooding, save for the avatar on Luna.

He was at the Noctis Labyrinth now, his attention fully focused there, except for the projection in front of her.

"...Guardian," She said warily, even as she kept strumming on the harp. She did not feel comfortable calling him George, but nor was she willing to show more deference than necessary any longer. The Daughter of Khaine bristled within her at the very idea. "Is there something wrong?"

The Emperor's projection was made up of golden light, but even through that, she could feel his discomfort. "In a manner of speaking. I require your aid at the Noctis Labyrinth. It should not be necessary, but I would rather err on the side of caution."

Isha frowned, setting the harp aside, leaving it to float in the air even as it continued to play the melody on its own. "Very well."

What was the matter? He had told her earlier that he had disposed of Vashtorr's Daemon Engines and they had not truly intended to shatter the Dragon's prison in the first place.

Still, he would not exaggerate, not about this, so Isha disappeared in a luminous flash…or so it would have seemed to mortal eyes. In truth, she became a beam of light, hurtling across Mars to reappear next to the Emperor, where her avatar solidified into flesh and blood once more.

The entire region was exactly as cold and desolate as it had felt when they were entering the orbit of Mars. Isha chose not to dwell on that for the moment, instead turning her attention to the Emperor, who was sitting on a throne of starlight that floated in mid-air, his elbow propped on the arms, his fist below his chin, his burning golden eyes fixed on something in the distance.

Isha turned her attention to where he was looking and realized that a host of automatons were marching towards them. She had not noticed them, distracted as she had been doing the work of rooting out the scrapcode.

But these machines were not creatures of Chaos. Instead, they were chillingly familiar in their way, cold and hollow and soulless. The technology that made them up was not alive in the way her children's or even mankind's was.

"Yngir slaves," She hissed. "How?"

The Emperor winced. "Yes, that is what I wanted to discuss."

Isha spun, fixing him with a glare. "You lied to me," She said coldly, as she instantly connected the dots. "The Cybernetic Revolt…the Dragon had something to do with it, didn't it?"

The Emperor winced. "I did not lie to you," He defended himself, but then he sighed. "But I did not tell you the whole truth."

"And what truth would that be?"

The Emperor grimaced. "During the Cybernetic Revolt, as the scrapcode spread, many human engineers sought…radical solutions to the problem. Some of them, here on Mars, were aware of the Labyrinth of Night, and what it contained. It was a closely guarded secret, but I could not conceal it entirely. And as the war continued, some were foolish enough to believe that answers might lie in the Labyrinth. They delved into it, and with what they discovered, they built new Men of Iron, ones who-"

"-were augmented by the Dragon's influence. Immune to Chaos, but perhaps infinitely more dangerous for that." Isha finished flatly. She could not find it in herself to be surprised, only frustrated.

"Yes," The Emperor acknowledged quietly. "The Dragon slept for many millennia after I first defeated it, but eventually, it began to stir once more. Or at least…to dream. And those dreams influenced the dreams of men, in turn, who were drawn to its whispers."

His gaze turned distant as he looked back to the past. "I was away at the time, halfway across the galaxy. When I heard, I returned to Sol immediately and bent all my power and influence to stop the project and destroy this breed of Iron Men. I thought they were all gone. But it seems I was wrong."

"But there was something of its influence in them," Isha observed.

For a moment, Isha was almost angry again.

"Why only tell me this now?"

"I was ashamed," The Emperor admitted.

He said nothing else, but he did not have to. Who could understand this better than the Mother of the Eldar?

For a moment, Isha was tempted to not let herself understand. She wanted to hold to her anger, to be unreasonable and furious.

But then she sighed.

What would be the point? She had many other reasons to be angry at the Emperor. This one…it was such a small thing. Yes, it would have been better to tell her, but he had thought they were all destroyed. It was not as if he had withheld knowledge of something he knew was a danger.

"Very well," She said briskly. "So, do you need my aid to deal with the host? Do they have Yngir weaponry? Anything that can counteract the Warp?"

The Emperor seemed almost surprised by her lack of argument, but answered. "To a degree, but nothing like true Necron technology. I think either of us could handle it alone, in all honesty. However, I thought it best to be prudent, especially since I cannot leave Luna unattended to focus all my power here."

Isha inclined her head. "I understand." When it came to the Yngir and their creations, well…what did the humans say? It wasn't paranoia if they were really out to get you.

"Afterwards, however, I would like to visit the Dragon's prison," The Emperor said. "I left someone to oversee it, and they deserve this much from me. That aside…I think we should see if you and I can strengthen the prison."

"You think it may be failing?"

"I do not believe so, but I never did truly understand your brother's work," The Emperor said, so frankly that it surprised her. "It seemed to repair itself when I infused it with the power necessary, but even so, your insight would be appreciated."

"Of course."

Seeing the Dragon again, the shard which had caused the Chronal Cataclysm in particular…well.

It ought to be interesting if nothing else, Isha supposed.

But first, its servants needed to be dealt with.

Isha stretched her arms, feeling the Huntress rise closer to the surface.

She gave the Emperor a fanged smile, gesturing to the horde marching in their direction as they spoke.

"So, shall we?"

The Emperor stood, letting his throne dissolve out of existence.

"Yes," He murmured. "We shall."


The Men of Iron were unstoppable soldiers, the finest weapons that mankind had ever built. Even after resting beneath the sands of Mars for thousands of years, they functioned perfectly. Self-repair systems whirred to life, nanomachines working to wipe away the rust, repairing and rebuilding the toll that entropy had taken.

Towering machines built in the shape of a man, as tall as a Warhound Titan, yet far sleeker and more powerful. They were smooth silver figures with lines of green light across their body. Although this was hardly more than a dozen machines, only a single squadron of them, below the surface they bristled with weapons that could break nations. Given time and resources, they could self-replicate, rebuild the legions that had set the galaxy ablaze during the Cybernetic Revolt.

Their armour was made of an adamantium alloy which mankind had forgotten the secrets of, one which could withstand the blasts from nuclear warheads and had survived seven thousand years of sleep with only minimal rust.

And then the petals began to rain.

Small pink flower petals, bright and fragile-looking, fell upon the iron soldiers, and sliced straight through their metallic skin. Sharper than a monomolecular blade, the storm of petals whirled around the Men of Iron, ripping them apart piece by piece with unerring accuracy and speed, destroying them as rapidly as the nanobots could repair them.

Mortal soldiers might have panicked, their minds clouded by fear, pain and confusion.

The Men of Iron did not. They were not built to feel such things. And any trace of human emotions that their original creators might have sought to imbue them were long gone, wiped away by the Dragon's influence.

+Aethyric Weaponry detected. Activating countermeasures.+

Cannons emerged from the sides of the Men of Iron, and then they released a pulse.

To describe it as an energy blast would be inaccurate. Nor could it be called a sonic pulse. It was something in-between, and yet completely different.

What it was at its core was cold, pure logic manifest in reality, blasting outwards in a wave to dispel the power of the Warp. The flower petals were blasted apart by the wave, torn to atoms.

Floating above, Isha arched an eyebrow at the display.

The weaponry was familiar. She had seen it on the Dragonforged during the Chronal Cataclysm, on the Necrons during the War in Heaven. It was evidence of the Dragon's influence, dangerous beyond all measure.

It was also not enough.

The Incarnates had been built to withstand the presence of the Star Vampires themselves, to fight them and destroy them.

They had not succeeded in that latter task, true. But they had fought, and they had endured. They had made the Star Gods bleed for victory.

Against this pale, primitive shadow of Necron weaponry?

Child's play.

She snapped her fingers, and the flower petals reformed, sharper and stronger than ever, resuming their barrage against the Men of Iron.

The cybernetic soldiers still did not yield, using their weapons as both defense and offense. But that was fine. Isha was only testing them, curious to see what they were capable of.

Otherwise, she was only here to set up a perimeter. Not to carry out the main assault.

That honour went to the Emperor.

He exploded out of the ground in a shower of rubble, his sword whirling as he unleashed a blast of golden flame in a shockwave that hurtled the robots backward, melting their iron skin and the components beneath.

And for the first time, something like alarm ignited in the Men of Iron.

+Slaani Weaponized Thoughtform detected, activating contingency measures.+

The Men of Iron sought to abandon their vessels, to flee into the Mechanicum's networks and hide deep within the databases and archives…only to find themselves prevented from doing so.

Layers of song threw them back into their primary bodies, augmenting the Mechanicum's Aegis protocols. Panicking, the Men of Iron tried again, but were repelled each time with brutal efficiency.

And then they were shredded by dazzling golden flames, both their physical bodies and their programming torn apart by the fury of the King of the Dead.

So ended the Men of Iron.