As always, there are three advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dashes):p-atreon/ SkySage24
"How goes the bonding with the Tears, Dreamspinner?"
Mehlendri leaned back in her starwood chair as she waited for the Priest to answer.
He looked…tired, with shadows under his eyes, and rumpled clothes, but at the same time, he also looked more alive than he had in years. There was no stench of alcohol about him, and his eyes were sharp, clear, and focused. And while his clothes were rumpled, there were no wine stains on them, his robes as white and clean as the walls of the rooms in which they were sitting.
Indeed, that was true for the entire Shrine of Asuryan. "Well enough," Dreamspinner answered. "Bonding with each dreamstone is not an instantaneous process, and it will be some time before all of Iyanden is shielded by them, but I have not yet encountered anyone who has had any serious problems with it. It is an adjustment, certainly, and we will have to keep an eye on the process as we learn to deal with it, but it is manageable."
Mehlendri nodded, conscious of her dreamstone, which she had put on a string and hung around her neck. It was a foreign weight against her chest, but it was also…warm. Comforting.
And ever since she had worn it, the shadow of the Devourer over her soul seemed less oppressive, the presence of the Dark God a little further away.
"The children are the ones adjusting to the dreamstones most rapidly," Dreamspinner continued, pausing to take a sip from a cup of steaming tea. "They are young and adaptable, so it is not too difficult for them. Their parents and caretakers have to make sure they don't misplace the stones, of course, but other than that, they have managed just fine."
"And who is having the most problems?" Mehlendri asked, leaning forward and placing her weight on the table between them, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
"The handful of former pleasure cultists," Dreamspinner answered, a flicker of disdain on his face, though he concealed it quickly. "They are bonding with the Tears, but it is slower for them than it is for the rest of us. We often have to coach them through the process of letting go of the last of their old arrogance and accepting Mother Isha's gifts."
"I suspected as much," Mehlendri murmured. She wondered if she would have had similar difficulties, not so long ago. Meeting Mother Isha, and being embraced by her… had banished the last of her doubts about the gods, but the belief that the Old Gods were primitive relics of a bygone age…well, it would be a lie to claim that was a belief exclusive to the pleasure cults.
"We also need to still be careful when wielding the Aethyr," Dreamspinner continued. "Mother's Tears shield us from She Who Thirsts, but they do not make us invulnerable or invincible. We can no longer afford to be as careless as we once were, to simply reach into the Sea without caution or restraint."
Mehlendri nodded wearily. Having to re-imagine something that had been fundamental to their lives and civilization for so long was…difficult, to put it mildly, but what other choice did they have? "Let me know if you have any problems or need any help," She told him. "This is an important job, and it must be done."
"Of course," Dreamspinner nodded. "There is one thing, however."
"What is it?"
"The matter of sending out people to look for other survivors through the Webway," Dreamspinner said quietly. "There are a lot of people who want to do so, to bring other refugees here, to take dreamstones to them."
Mehlendri's jaw clenched. "We can't do that right now," She answered. "You know why."
The threats levelled by the barbarian god of Terra remained unspoken between them, but they both remembered them vividly.
If they dared to bring other Eldar to Iyanden, or if news of their sudden good fortune attracted other Craftworlds…who knew how he would respond?
What he would do to Mother Isha?
It was why Mehlendri had ordered a lockdown of all the Webway portals after Mother Isha and the self-proclaimed Emperor had left.
The risk was too great.
"I know," Dreamspinner nodded wearily. "And right now, people are too caught up in celebrating, but…the voices are there. They will become louder in time."
"We will simply have to remind them, then." Mehlendri said shortly. The entire Craftworld had felt the Emperor's power. She doubted anyone had forgotten.
"Yes," Dreamspinner. "But…I do wish we could lend our aid to the other survivors out there. We are blessed, but they…"
Mehlendri said nothing. What could she say? It was not as if she did not understand his point.
But Iyanden and its people were her responsibility, and so was Mother Isha in a way, hostage of a barbarian deity as she was. Mehlendri could not afford to risk the safety of either.
"I have to go," She said finally, rising to her feet. "I'll see you at the council meeting tomorrow."
She left without waiting for Dreamspinner's response, walking through the Shrine. Much like Dreamspinner himself, the entire Shrine had come alive, the priests bustling around, the entire building cleaner. People flocked in daily for guidance on how to bond with their dreamstones, on insight into the will of Isha or even the Flame of Asuryan.
There were even new acolytes, Mehlendri noticed, who had joined the cult.
How strange to think of that as a good thing. For most of her life, Mehlendri had thought of the cults of the old gods as eccentric fools clinging to deities who were dead at best and had abandoned them at worst.
But now, she relied on the cult for aid and advice and was pleased to see their numbers grow.
How times changed.
As she left the shrine, Mehlendri noticed the doors were larger than they had been before, and where previously there had only been runes of Asuryan decorating them, now the Rune of Quyl-Isha took prominence at the center, the symbols of the Phoenix King instead arranged around it.
And outside the Shrine, music echoed through the air, as a choir of bone singers and priests worked in conjunction to build expansions to the temple, their melodies conjuring their visions into reality, causing walls of diamond to flow into existence.
Mehlendri's skiff was where she had left it, right at the base of the new stairway leading up to the temple's entrance, and with a thought, she willed it to move, sprinting halfway down the stairs and then leaping onto the skiff as it rose upwards.
Flying over Iyanden was a starkly different experience than it had been scarcely a month ago. There was a frantic energy to the Craftworld now, and while there were still not enough people for Mehlendri to call it bustling, the people who were there had a sense of purpose once more.
No longer were the streets and the airways empty, the people staying inside their homes. Now, there was a flurry of movement, as people began working to try to rebuild what had been lost.
And in the distance, the new World Tree at the center of Iyanden rose into the sky, its top touching the very force fields that shielded the Craftworld from the void.
Even now, looking at it took Mehlendri's breath away. Its branches were as long and wide as the roads of Iyanden, and the verdant leaves were the size of small buildings.
But most amazing were the shimmering Tears of Isha that glimmered between the branches, so many that there were too many to count, coming into a thousand different colours, flashing in the light of the nearby star.
Mother Isha's visit had truly revitalized Iyanden, Mehlendri mused as she set a course for the World Tree, and urged her skiff to accelerate until everything was a blur.
…but it was not just hope that drove the current energy over Iyanden, Mehlendri knew.
The mood over Iyanden was jubilant, yet disappointed. Hopeful, yet fearful.
Mother Isha's return had been a moment of triumph and hope. She had restored life to Iyanden, both literally and metaphorically, sealing away the shard of the Bloody-Handed One, blessing them with the protections they needed to shield themselves from both She Who Thirsts and the more physical horrors that plagued the galaxy.
And yet.
The shadow of the barbarian god of Terra hung over Iyanden like a cloud, even larger and more intense than the shadow of the titanic green leaves that surrounded Mehlendri as she arrived at the World Tree, slowing down once more.
Mehlendri had had more than one nightmare about that cruel star of golden flame which had threatened them with eradication, which held their Mother captive even now.
Nor was she the only one. Everyone on Iyanden was fearful of humanity's god, and haunted by his threats. The children were the ones having the most nightmares about him, Mehlendri remembered with a stab of anger as she stopped the skiff, jumping down onto one of the World Tree's great branches.
But little recourse remained to them. Even with Mother Isha's blessings, Mehlendri doubted the ability of Iyanden to challenge the creature that called himself Emperor. To make matters even more complicated, there was the problem of actually getting to him in the first place. Mother Isha had warned them that the Sol System was too dangerous, and they would not survive any attempt to reach Terra through it.
Dreamspinner and his fellow Priests had only confirmed it, using their divination to scry Sol as much as they dared, trying to see past the burning presence of the Emperor. Sol was a hellish place infested with unimaginable horrors, only Terra itself being a relative bastion of sanity.
There was no way to rescue Mother Isha. Mother Isha did not even want to be rescued, not wishing to risk their lives.
And Mehlendri was helpless once again, she mused bitterly as she leaned on her side against the World Tree's trunk. It was not as if there was plenty to do, as Iyanden finally began to recover and rebuild, but the sense of frustration and helplessness haunted her every step, her every action.
After all these millennia, she finally understood the strange dedication of the cults to their gods, and why their ancestors had worshipped them for so long, why the ancients had gone so utterly insane. The tree trunk she was leaning against, thicker and tougher than most starships, was a reminder of the immense power of the Everqueen. There was no sensation in her long life that Mehlendri had ever felt which could compare to being enveloped in the love of a god.
Or, she admitted grudgingly to herself, the fear that had choked her as the barbarian Emperor loomed over them, demanding answers and threatening the destruction of all they held dear.
The claims of the pleasure cults that the Eldar were gods had always been something Mehlendri thought was somewhat egotistical. After the Fall of the Dominion, she hated them for their hubris.
And now, having met two gods, Mehlendri could only see what utter fools they had been.
The Aeldari had been mighty, the mightiest of all races in the galaxy, but they were so far removed from godhood that the idea of claiming to be such now felt not only arrogant but outright delusional.
Though the pleasure cults had achieved divinity in a way, Mehlendri thought darkly. The Dark Goddess that now fed on the souls of the Eldar was the culmination of their efforts, the twisted apotheosis of the Dominion.
She hoped that if anything remained of the pleasure cults and had not just been subsumed into the Enemy, then those remnants were experiencing the same suffering they had inflicted on so many others.
Damn them.
Her thoughts were broken as she heard footsteps behind her. Ah, so she wasn't alone here, then. But that wasn't surprising, many Eldar frequently visited the World Tree in search of solace and guidance.
Mehlendri turned to speak to whoever it was, but what she saw stole the words out of her mouth.
An Eldar stood in front of her, dressed in a riot of colour, with a bright blue coat decorated with mismatched patterns of red, green, and yellow worn over sleek dark armour. In one hand was a long, curved sword, and in the other a rifle.
But what chilled Mehlendri most was the face.
The only feature visible was a long, thick strip of red hair rising from the centre of their head.
The rest was covered by a bone white mask in the shape of an Eldar face, with a wide, mocking, insane smile.
A Harlequin of Cegorach.
"Greetings, Fleetmaster Silversoul!" The Harlequin said in a jubilant tone, its voice distorted and echoing in the air. "I have a message for you!"
Author's Note: If you're interested, here's an invite code to my Discord server: 2AmdcYhK