Ezekiel Sedayne, Assistant Director of the Imperial Biotechnical Division, shifted in his seat, trying to conceal his trepidation. He was not a fearful man, no one who worked for the Emperor was, but it was difficult not to feel a little nervous when you were waiting alone in the office of Malcador the Sigillite. All the more so when waiting for him to arrive so that you could report the results of the task he had assigned you.
To the populace of the Imperium, Malcador seemed the more human of the Imperium's leaders. Not necessarily kinder or gentler, but more down to earth and in touch with humans, a contrast to the Emperor's aloof majesty and power.
They were not strictly wrong, but it was not a complete image of the Sigillite either. Ezekiel only knew a few fragments of Malcador's true nature and past, but even those scraps of knowledge made him feel uneasy when dealing with the man. Perhaps Ezekiel would have been more at ease if he thought that Malcador would like what he had to say, but he very much doubted the Sigillite would be pleased with the results of his work.
Not that Ezekiel himself was happy about what he had to present. He had always hated the taste of failure, and even more so when he had failed a task given to him by the Emperor himself. The Emperor had imparted upon him great knowledge and the secrets of the golden age, accepted him as a student and made him part of the greatest empire that Terra, no, the galaxy would ever know. Ezekiel knew he was unlikely to be punished for this, but all the same, it still burned.
Ezekiel shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Getting worked up over this would accomplish nothing. In an effort to distract himself, Ezekiel looked around Malcador's office.
The room was reasonably large, though nowhere near as vast as the Emperor's. It was largely spartan, with a medium-sized steel desk and wooden chairs, where Ezekiel was seated. The floor and the walls were painted a dark blue, bare of any decoration except for two paintings. One of a dark haired woman with an enigmatic smile, and another of sunflowers in a flowerpot.
They did not look like anything special to Ezekiel, but he knew that they were ancient beyond measure, having been created even before the Golden Age, before mankind had ever risen to the stars, and that they had been preserved ever since.
Ezekiel frowned as he examined the paintings, unable to understand what was so valuable about them. Why would anyone preserve simple paintings for so long? And why did Malcador value them so highly? Not only them, for Ezekiel knew that the Sigillite had a collection of similar relics, and it baffled him as to what value the Malcador could see in such utterly useless things.
"Interested in my paintings, Doctor Sedayne?"
Ezekiel jolted, springing to his feet and turning around to see Malcador standing behind him, somehow having arrived completely silently, eyeing Ezekiel with a slight smile and a twinkle in his eyes.
Ezekiel suppressed a scowl, bowing slightly. "Lord Sigillite. I was just curious."
"Perhaps I'll educate you on them later." Malcador said serenely, circling the desk to sit behind it. "But for now, tell, what have you discovered?
Ezekiel grimaced but steeled himself. "I'm afraid that I have nothing, my lord."
"Nothing?" Malcador asked, his eyes narrowing and fingers tightening around his staff. "Truly?"
"Yes." Ezekiel said, bowing his head. "I have run every test that I know of on the plants you gave me, and I could find nothing beyond the expected. They are augmented, of course, with increased durability and longevity, enhanced regeneration and a reduced need for nutrients. But nothing out of the ordinary for the work of the Emperor's guest."
Ezekiel couldn't help the bitter mixture of shame and envy that swelled within him at having to admit his failure. The work of the Emperor's mysterious guest had astounded and befuddled them all at every turn, and for all that Ezekiel knew he should be glad for how said work had benefited the Imperium, he couldn't help but feel jealous.
Malcador was silent for a long moment, apparently contemplating something, before finally speaking. "Very well. You may go."
That was it? Ezekiel blinked. He had expected a far harsher reprimand for his failure, but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Bowing once more, Ezekiel stepped away.
The last thing he saw before leaving the room was the brooding look on the usually serene Sigillite's face.
Malcador sighed wearily, leaning back in his chair and letting his staff lean against the desk. Sedayne's report had been...disappointing. He had not been able to find anything of interest in Isha's plants. Well, nothing of interest to Malcador. Like the rest of the Biotechnical Division, no doubt Sedayne had discovered even more things that would alternatively leave him in awe and drive him mad with curiosity.
None of the tests that Malcador had run on the plants himself had given him what he sought. No device at his disposal, nor any of the numerous pieces of warpcraft he knew had shown these plants to be anything other than what they should have been. The imprint of Isha's power was all over them and the modifications were easy enough to see...but he had found nothing dangerous or even unknown.
Malcador should have been pleased, but his instincts screamed at him that there was no way there wasn't some hidden trap in those plants, or at least some sort of contingency in case Isha ever felt unsafe.
The Sigillite rubbed a hand across his face. This was getting him nowhere. His best efforts had found nothing in the plants, and he doubted that he was going to find anything.
Leaning forward, Malcador pulled out a tablet from one of the desk drawers, and inputted a few commands, sending instructions to the Custodians to escort Isha's plants back to her chambers. The wards there were stronger and more secure than the lab's, and it would be better for the plants to remain there until he could think of some other test ro un.
He had other work to do that he could not afford to delay any longer. He would just have to come back at this from a fresh angle later.
The Sigillite just hoped that nothing disastrous occurred in the meantime.
The Custodians had received Malcador's command, and secured Isha's plants within specially warded containers to return them to the alien's rooms. Vigilant for any attack she might launch, they double and triple checked the measures before moving out.
Unknown to the Custodians, within the containers, each of the plants that contained Isha's power bloomed beyond the traces of her touch that Malcador had seen. Scraps of energy pulling together into blossoms made as much of light as anything physical. Strange flowers begat stranger fruits, sparks of psychic energy, each one containing a message. Of hope, love and a promise that she would return someday, meant for Isha's lost children. Isha had released some whispers into the Immaterium before, as quietly as she could, but those were far and few in between, and she could not be sure any of them reached her children. The plants contained more, far more.
The messages, akin to psychic whispers that were imperceptible unless one was looking for them, slipped straight into the Immaterium. To slip unnoticed through the wards was an incredible challenge, one that Isha had resolved herself to risk the consequences of if her estimation of Malcador failed. But the Sigillite had done as she predicted, removing her plants from her chambers, and though the wards on the containers were secure, they were not as secure on the ones around either Isha's chambers or the lab.
Even so, it had not been easy to design enchantments that would allow her messages to pass through without notice. But Isha's efforts had succeeded and so it was that her whispers slid past the wards on the containers entirely, vanishing into the Aethyr. Her messages, appearing as sparks of light in the Immaterium to any who might have noticed them drifted through the Great Ocean, to any and all Aeldari who might hear them.
And hear they did.
The worldsingers of the Exodites and the seers of the Craftworlds were torn between desperate hope and abject fear, unable to ascertain if the message was true or false.
In the Eye of Terror, the Hand of Asuryan and his students heard the message. Despite their astonishment, they did not doubt it as their kin had, for they had encountered the power of the old gods before. But even they were unsure of what to do.
Few of Isha's whispers made their way into the Webway, and most of them were bitterly dismissed and forgotten. Those broken realms were not a place where hope could endure.
Save one exception.
Deep in the Webway, the great trickster heard his lost sister's message, and laughed. The great game was going to have another player, it seemed.
Author's Note: And here we go with the next chapter! Took a while but hope you enjoy it.
On a different note, various RL problems and especially the pandemic mean that I have swallowed my pride and made a Ko-Fi and the links to which can be found on the AO3, SB or SV versions of this fic. I would deeply appreciate any support that any of you have to give me.