Merywa was trying to adapt to her new life but it was very, very hard.

She had come out of an endless dream of firing weapons and walking corridors to find herself staring into the face of an alien machine. Then she had needed to adjust to the knowledge that her husband and older children were dead or lost, and all her young children were dead. Merywa had never been devout, so losing faith in the Star Gods had been easy enough, but everything else was so hard.

Then she had to adjust to Mandragora. The green shades were pleasing, but that was where it ended. Everything else was so strange and alien. The architecture of her people, she could see that, but as it if had been redone by machines. It was so hard to get used to.

Then, she also had to adapt to her new psyker gifts. Merywa had heard of such things… they belonged to races like their hated enemies, the aeldari. It had always been rumored that a few necrontyr had such gifts, fortune tellers and the like, but no one put any stock in that. Even commoners only visited them for amusement, if you wanted anything remotely accurate you saved enough money for a Chronomancer. Merywa and her husband had done that themselves, particularly when the war raged and they wanted to chart a safe course. It was worth it, despite the expense.

Now she had such gifts herself, though, and needed to adjust to them. Merywa could sense the emotions of everyone around her. It actually felt very natural and she found herself adjusting her behavior instinctively, to create peace and calm around her. Merywa quickly realized she could use this ability to manipulate, yet found the idea extremely repellent. It made her wonder what had happened to her? It was not that she'd been a scheming, manipulative person before but she'd made no bones about doing what she had to do to survive. Why had she suddenly developed this odd morality?

(it was a side effect of empathic telepathy. While it was possible to be a manipulative empath, it was very rare and such individuals were usually extremely dangerous)

Merywa could also lift and manipulate objects with just her mind. The great and illustrious Psychomancer, Zivok, had tested her abilities and been extremely pleased. He had pronounced her a Zeta level psyker. He said that was good, because while she was strong enough to use her abilities easily, she was not strong enough to be extremely dangerous. Zivok said he was aiming for Zeta and Epsilon level psykers, in general, although weaker ones were acceptable. He did not want Delta or higher because they were too dangerous.

Zeta did still carry some danger, though, and Merywa was wearing blackstone protections. They were under her conscious control and with just a thought, she could flip them from neutral to negative. Also, if she needed to perform a great feat of strength, she could flip them to positive although that was not advised… that always carried danger, as the blackstone enhanced her connection to the Warp and made it easier for terrible things to see her. For a lesser psyker that might not cause too much danger but for someone like her, that was for emergencies only.

There was no danger in Mandragora, though, with its plethora of blackstone and the great blackstone forges. Merywa found it hard to use her telekinesis at all, outside of the special platforms Zivok had used to test her. Only the empathic telepathy was completely unaffected, working perfectly no matter where in Mandragora she stood.

Because of her status as a very useful psyker, Merywa had been given the status of Cryptek, a shocking upgrade to her caste. Although in this strange future, it was not unwarranted… Merywa had diffidently mentioned, and then had confirmed by other Crypteks, that she was capable of repairing their machines. As the owner of a small vessel devoted to trade, they had needed to do their own repairs. Not only were they often far away from any repair facilities, it was just cheaper if they could do it themselves and their little ship had been equipped with the tools of a low ranked Cryptek. Her husband had been better, but Merywa was still proficient in their use.

So, to her relief, Merywa was given that as a regular duty… she was able to join the maintenance Crypteks. That was pleasant because while her psyker abilities were a bit frightening, working with machines was soothing.

Then she was summoned to attend upon to the Phaeron, to her deep apprehension. But Zivok had prepared her for it… he had advised her that her powers were incredibly valuable for negotiations and dealing with foreign dignitaries, so she could anticipate attending upon Imotekh regularly. Her duties were simple, to listen and evaluate and alert the Stormlord immediately if the person he was speaking to was lying.

Merywa bowed deeply to the Stormlord and he motioned for her to take a spot against the wall, that would help her blend in with the Lychguard. She took it easily and waited patiently for the visitor to arrive.

The visitor was a strange Overlord that Merywa had never seen before, his body marked with the glyphs of the Novokh Dynasty. Merywa knew those glyphs well, her family had sometimes traded with traders from Novokh and ships like theirs always displayed the Dynasty glyphs. The Overlord himself was strong and had a very straight, military bearing. In contrast to his proud stature, Merywa sensed a great emptiness and a deep, dark despair. It activated her mothering instincts and she wanted to sweep him into her arms and whisper that everything would be fine, but that would not be welcomed and besides, it would be a lie.

"Hestys Amenhoros." Ah, that rank, she knew that rank… it was a rank particular to Novokh and denoted a great ground general. It had fallen out of use during the War in Heaven, it was interesting that Imotekh was bringing it up now. A gesture of great respect, she thought. "I am pleased to see you, although I wish it had been in other circumstances," Imotekh rumbled and Merywa could tell that he truly regretted that.

"Ah, that old rank. You do me too much honor, for now I must be a traitor," Amenhoros said and Merywa could feel Imotekh's deep concern. "Stormlord, I shall get right into it. Our Phaeron is mad. Yet, this is the way of things and the hekatic will of the Phaeron cannot be denied, so we followed him in any case." Amenhoros paused for just a moment. Gathering his courage. "Until now. It has gone too far, we cannot follow him any longer. We beg you, please conquer us and force Galmakh to take a soul, please save him from this madness."

"What has he done?" Imotekh asked softly and Amenhoros explained.

"The wretched Chaos Marines of the Pallid Hand inflicted one of our tomb worlds with the Ferric Blight. All inhabitants of that tomb died before a cure could be found," Amenhoros said and Merywa felt Imotekh's grim anger. It was easy to see where this was going. "But Galmakh is mad… he has decided that we will weaponize the Blight. He has given this task to Cryptek Ostanakh, who has also gone mad, but in the way of caring for nothing but his work. Galmakh knows you will attack him for what he has done, to teach him a lesson, and he has laid a trap for you. Great Phaeron, he fully intends to inflict an enhanced version of this plague upon you." Amenhoros hung his head. "And with this, I have betrayed my Phaeron. I will give you more information, of the defenses of our people, but when this is done I beg for honorable death." …

Everything he is telling you is truth, yet I feel he is leaving so much out, Merywa whispered to Imotekh via interstitial messaging. There was more to this story, things Amenhoros wasn't going into and didn't want to touch on, but they might want to know. Imotekh paced slowly towards the Overlord, an intimidating presence of cold steel.

"Are you the only traitor, Amenhoros?" he asked and Amenhoros stayed silent. "How many more are there? And was this meeting between us by accident, or by design? Who is supporting you? Who is pulling the strings?" Imotekh put his face directly into Amenhoros' face. "What Chronomancer sent you here?"

"Chronomancer Tahkelan." Merywa sensed the complete, absolute falseness of those words and whispered to Imotekh. That is a lie. The Stormlord instantly seized Amenhoros throat, a painful grip. Merywa felt Amenhoros' shock, that his lie had been so easily penetrated.

"Do not lie to me. Tahkelan is very good and he could be behind this, but he isn't. Who sent you?" Imotekh's voice was like heavy darkness, an invitation to oblivion, but Merywa was not even slightly phased because she could sense this was all an act. Imotekh had no intention of harming Amenhoros, he just wanted the truth. Amenhoros didn't know that, though, and his fear was powerful.

"Ah… Anhu! Anhu the Silent," Amenhoros said and Merywa whispered to Imotekh. This is the truth. Imotekh loosened his grip, slightly.

"Who is this? I have not heard of him," Imotekh said, a feeling of mild confusion. Merywa could tell that if she had not confirmed it to be true, he would disbelieve it, because Crypteks of such ability were never completely unknown. Amenhoros made a grating sound and with the emotions behind it, Merywa identified it as almost a sob. His despair, his pain at his betrayal, was so deep.

"He is Galmakh's Chronomancer. He was a deaf mute in life, even now he does not speak, he communicates only with glyphs. He is a Luminary on the same level as Orikan or Rahkoz. A great hidden resource, he is devoted entirely to our Phaeron. He refuses to even accept rewards from Galmakh, he just wants to serve," Amenhoros said and Imotekh finally released him, tilting his head slightly in disbelief. Merywa understood that completely… a Cryptek with no ego? Who did not care about anything but service? Did such a thing exist? Yet, she could tell that everything he was saying was true. Amenhoros glanced around, taking in the Lychguard, then noticing her in the shadows. His gaze settled on her. "Is that the Witch?" …What?

"What do you say?" Imotekh rumbled and Amenhoros responded, his tone dull and mechanical, even for a necron.

"Anhu said, if you did not have the Witch, I would be able to convince you it was Tahkelan but if the Witch was present you would have his name from me. He told me to just give in, tell you everything… Anhu has given a terrible prophecy. He says that if you fail in the Pariah Nexus, and Szarekh wins, Galmakh will be his undoing. He cannot grow mold for millions of years, he will become insanely bored and create many different plagues from the Ferric Blight. Ostanakh is also mad… they will release them together, designed to wipe out our own kind, and it will work. Nothing will be left. Nothing." Amenhoros shook his head. "Even Anhu cannot allow this. The most loyal among us… he has gathered a select group of Overlords to him. We will all support you. Please, Stormlord, save us from this madness." There was a pause before Imotekh bent his head.

"I will. One way or the other, I will put an end to this," he said and Merywa felt Amenhoros great relief, but also emptiness. He… he was ready to die. "Amenhoros. Can I convince you to continue? Your fate need not be set in stone."

"No. This is too great a betrayal. Giving you Anhu's name… Stormlord, he has been Galmakh's great hidden asset forever. What I have done is a betrayal of the entire Dynasty. I did it for the sake of our race, but it cannot be forgiven. When I am done with my betrayal, grant me honorable death." Merywa sensed Imotekh's frustration. He did not want to grant this request, he thought it was a terrible waste of a great commander. Let me try, she whispered to the Stormlord before moving. Amenhoros could have evaded her, but he did not bother, just looking at her as she touched his arm.

"Please, do not give up so easily. How will Phaeron Galmakh feel when he regains his sanity? When he sees that even his most trusted Chronomancer, who cared for no worldly fame, turned against him? He will have to forgive Anhu, how could he not forgive you?" Merywa tried to project her sincerity, her belief in him. "Please, give him the chance to judge you himself. Don't give up hope," she said, projecting that feeling. Hope. Hope was not completely lost for Amenhoros, he should not give up. There was a long, painful pause and Merywa could tell that Amenhoros did not want to dare to hope, did not want to have that hope crushed and he also did not feel that he deserved it. He felt that he should die, for his crimes. And yet, some part of him so desperately wanted to live. So much conflict inside.

"Anhu said I should listen to the wisdom of the Witch," Amenhoros finally said, looking at her. Merywa knew he was seeing a small, delicate Cryptek of a female design. Merywa had been remodeled to something close to her necrontyr form. "What is your name?"

"I am Merywa," she said. "Cryptek Merywa." That was her only rank, but it was deeply pleasing to her, so far above her previous station. "Will you stay, for a time?" He studied her for a moment.

"I will," Amenhoros finally said, to her great relief. She drew her hand away with a sudden feeling of shyness. "It is true that he will have to forgive Anhu. I hope…" Amenhoros fell silent before shaking his head. "I cannot afford to hope. But I will come with you, I will see our Dynasty broken before you. Perhaps I owe them that." That wasn't entirely what she'd hoped for but if it kept Amenhoros alive for now, it would have to do. Merywa hoped Galmakh would find it in his heart to forgive him.

"This pleases me. But for now, tell me more. The defenses of Dhol VI – " They got down to the brass tacks then, the details of Galmakh's forces and the information of exactly who would help them, who would turn upon the Phaeron. Merywa took her place by the wall again, just monitoring for any falsehood, but there was nothing. Amenhoros was committed to his course.

Merywa could only hope that Galmakh would find it in his heart to forgive his loyal Overlord.


When he was done with Amenhoros, Imotekh felt deeply invigorated at the prospect of a challenging campaign.

It was, in most ways, a useless distraction from the Pariah Nexus. Yet it NEEDED to be done, so he would do it. He could not weaken most of his defenses, though – the Szarekhan Dynasty had their own Chronomancer, even if they were not as good as Orikan – so he would need to operate with a relatively small force. A great challenge, when facing an entire Dynasty, even one significantly smaller than his own. If not for Amenhoros' information and the traitors within, Imotekh could not have done it and even with those advantages he would need cleverness.

Firstly, though, he needed to know what forces he could free from other locations. Imotekh reached out to Orikan.

"Great Diviner, I require your knowledge. Please evaluate the defenses of Hope and the surrounding systems and how much I can weaken them before inviting attack," Imotekh rumbled, aware of the situation there. Part of why he had such a strong force there, which had yet to be attacked at all, was a powerful deterrent to the Maynarkh Dynasty. Toholk and his Smoking Mirror would be looking for an opportunity.

Yes, Phaeron. I will have the answer shortly, Orikan responded and Imotekh nodded. Because of the deep importance of current events, he was keeping Orikan fully 'on retainer' as the humans would say. He was not allowed to take outside commissions but in recompense, Imotekh was paying him handsomely, both in simple wealth and artefacts and raw materials. Anything within reason, he would give to his great Chronomancer. Which made Amenhoros' story even more puzzling. Imotekh went to work reviewing the rest of his forces as he waited. What could he pull from Gidrim? After several hours, Orikan came back with a response. Stormlord, the most you can weaken the forces at Hope by is a quarter, before the risk of attack becomes extremely grave. They may still be attacked but the chances are low and even in the darkest future, the wormhole generator will be saved, moved to Mandragora. Yes, that was the best thing about the generator, it could transport itself. That made it nearly impossible to seize in battle.

"For a matter of this importance, I will ask you. What are the percentages?" Imotekh asked, although he knew Orikan hated that question. Chronomancers strived to seem mysterious and all-knowing, but Imotekh had long ago penetrated that ruse. They observed the different paths of the future and picked what was most likely, but it was possible for unlikely events to happen. Worse yet, the Warp could always throw their calculations into disarray. That was why, with him, Orikan no longer pretended to be infallible… he knew Imotekh knew better. Still, he disliked giving hard numbers. There was a momentary pause.

The odds that Hope will not be attacked, with a force reduction of a quarter, are roughly eighty percent. Even if it is attacked, in most futures they will beat off the attackers with a minimum of damage. The odds of a catastrophic outcome are beneath five percent. Ah, good, he would take those odds.

"I thank you for your service, and I will give you recompense immediately, in the form of knowledge." Orikan would definitely want this news. "Amenhoros has revealed something incredible, that Galmakh has the services of a great Chronomancer. Anhu the Silent, he says he is a deaf mute who cares for nothing but serving his Phaeron." Such an odd thing. "Amenhoros claims he is a light to equal your own." Imotekh expected Orikan to sniff in outrage but instead, he was met by a fulminating silence. "You guessed?" Orikan couldn't have known, or he'd have reported it, but he had guessed?

I knew Galmakh had something. I thought it was some kind of potent artefect, like the Smoking Mirror, in the hands of Tahkelan. Hmm, reasonable. High Chronomancer Tahkelan really was very good, just not quite on Orikans' or Rahkozs' level. Roughly the same as Oramoton, as he was now. To find that it is a person… that is surprising. I have never heard of this Anhu, I would like to meet him.

"If you wish to come with the fleet, that can be arranged," Imotekh said and to his mild surprise, Orikan consented. He must be quite curious about this. But then, it was very strange. Imotekh had never, in all his life, heard of a great Luminary completely spurning fame and fortune. What was Anhu's purpose? What were his desires? That brought Toholk and his mad thoughts of breaking time to mind, and Imotekh shivered a little inside.

He needed to understand the mind of this Chronomancer.


Guilliman was not on Macragge when the message from Imotekh arrived. He was taking care of very important matters in preparation for the assault on the Pariah Nexus, which was coming swiftly now. In his stead, he'd left Severus Agemman, the Regent of Ultramar, to run things in his stead. That was a very important duty indeed and he handled it well.

So it was Severus who received Imotekh's communication. It started with a download of data, that was easily captured and decanted into a cogitator designed for the purpose. Then, a canned message. Severus looked at the data first and was puzzled by what was clearly a design? He had no idea what it was for. Leaving that for the tech priests, he took the FTL communication, repressing an instinctive feeling of revulsion as the Stormlord's image appeared in front of him. Severus didn't care for any xenos and found their peace treaty with them slightly revolting, although it was easy to see the advantages to it.

Primarch Guilliman, greetings. It seems I have found myself in your debt, the necron said and Severus was puzzled. Debt? Fortunately, the Stormlord immediately went into it. The planet Tisiphone, within my Empire, came under the assault of the Novokh Dynasty. They wished to steal the transpositanium and launched a dishonorable attack to secure it. The Astropaths reached out to both Stormfall and Gidrim, but they did not reach Gidrim, only Stormfall. The Iron Hawks intervened, driving Phaeron Galmakh away and saving this priceless resource. As such, I must compensate you. Severus wondered what the Chapter Master of the Iron Hawks had been thinking, intervening in a fight between xenos! Although Galmakh was insane and was causing them problems, so perhaps that was enough. This is not an STC fragment, but is based on one, something the Hopian engineers and my Crypteks created with your technical base in mind. It is a simple power weapon, meant for the Guard. For the Guard?! Was he joking? They did not equip the Guard with power weapons, they were too difficult to make! This design should be relatively easy for your Forge Worlds to mass produce. Wait, what?! It is inferior to custom made power weapons, but you will find it is of great worth in strengthening your Guard. Severus wasn't sure what to think. Would it really be significant? I will now consider my debt discharged, and thank you for the assistance. Then the message ended and Severus stared into the air thoughtfully before reaching out to the Tech Priests.

They spent several days pouring over the design the Stormlord had provided before pronouncing it amazing, something worthy of Cawl himself. It also gave them some insight into the lost arts of power weapon technology and might make it slightly easier to repair the existing ones. According to Tellibal, the great Tech Priests might also be able to refine their knowledge, make it slightly easier to build their great workings. It would not be a huge improvement, but it would be a real one.

For the Guard, though, this would be a significant addition to their arsenal. Tellibal recommended founding a new Forge World and specifically dedicating it to the production of this tool. Severus instantly approved of this plan, certain Guilliman would agree. The Mechanicus had the resources and had several worlds already earmarked, so they began organizing the expedition. It would be some time before everything was up and running, but in a decade or two this weapon would be in full production. They would give it to the elite units, like the Death Korps of Krieg, to start with but then spread them to other battalions.

Lastly, Severus arranged for a courier ship to take a message to Stormfall. A message commending them for their great service to the Empire, in managing to secure something so valuable from the Sautekh Empire. Perhaps later, Guilliman would be able to commend them himself, perhaps even in person. They would see.

It would depend on if the Iron Hawks were being moved to join the assault on the Pariah Nexus.