I do not own the Warhammer 40000 universe nor any of its characters. They belong to Games Workshop.
Inspired by the Dornian Heresy, by Aurelius Rex.

Tyrant

When the Eye of Terror first opened, hundreds and hundreds of worlds were dragged within its baleful embrace. The core worlds of the Eldar Empire, home to uncounted trillions of Children of Isha, were swallowed by the hungry mouth of the Sea of Souls.

In the first of the ages that followed, the Eye belonged to the Dark God it had spawned, and its legions of newly created children. The daemons of Slaanesh ruled over every world within the Eye of Terror, and they wrought wonders and horrors alike from the ruins of the fallen empire. But soon, the forces of the three elder Powers arrived, for none of the Dark Gods could ever tolerate their youngest sibling to hold such vast territory unchallenged.

And so, long before Guilliman raised his flag of rebellion and condemned eight of the nine Legions to rally to it to exile within the Eye, the Ruinous Powers sent their champions, mortal and immortal, to the greatest Warp Storm in the galaxy. On every world of the Eye, the scions of the Dark Prince were attacked by the hordes of Khorne, Tzeentch and Nurgle, and they were forced to relinquish countless domains to their rivals. Since then, the Eye of Terror has been in a perpetual state of flux, with the forces of the Dark Gods fighting each other and daemon worlds constantly changing hands.

And no world represented this state of affair better than Eidolon.

Since the end of Slaaneshi hegemony, Eidolon had been in a constant state of warfare, as the forces of the Four battled for supremacy in an endless cycle. Always the world was divided between the territories of the four factions, each led by a powerful champion of that god. Always one would rise over its rivals, only to be cast down, whether by inner conflict, an alliance of the other Powers, or the random whim of their patron god. This was as the Gods willed it, for the struggle for Eidolon was much more entertaining to them as any of their champions' triumph could ever be. And so the cycle went on and on, the siren song of Eidolon driving billions of cultists and other denizens of the Eye to throw their lives away on its countless battlefields.

But then had come Leonatos.

A former Captain of the Ninth Legion and powerful Champion of Slaanesh, Leonatos had risen to rule over the servants of the Youngest God on Eidolon. From that point on, the influence of the Dark Prince on Eidolon had been on the ascendant, with Leonatos even leading many incursions beyond the borders of the Eye using potent sorceries. For his deeds and monstrosity, he was rewarded with ascension, stripped of his mortality and elevated into the ranks of the Neverborn. From Eidolon his name spread, burrowing into the darkling souls of the Dark Prince's worshippers in the Eye of Terror and beyond. Within ruinous temples and secret alcoves, cultists of the Profligate One whispered that their hour had come, that with Leonatos leading them, they would finally claim Eidolon for their own and remake it into a paradise of sensation and excess.

But Leonatos was no fool, despite his monstrous arrogance. He knew that many had risen before him on Eidolon, and they had all fallen in time. By studying the past of the daemon world, he had been able to put together that the Gods simply did not want one of their champions to triumph on that endless battlefield. The Daemon Prince refused to let such an ignominious fate befall him, yet he also refused to simply enjoy his current dominion and not rise higher.

For decades, he brooded in his palace, trying to find a way to conquer all of Eidolon without falling prey to the same fate that had befallen all of the daemon world's would-be conquerors. No solution presented itself ... until one day, a visitor came to him. Clad in golden armor and carried on shining wings, the Sanguinor came to Eidolon, and whispered in the ear of Leonatos.

The Sanguinor told Leonatos that it could help him conquer Eidolon, in return for a favor that would be repaid once the conquest was complete. The Daemon Prince knew better than to trust such an offer, but such was his desire to rule over all of Eidolon that he accepted the bargain, and drank from the Sanguinor's cup.

With the Sanguinor's patronage, Leonatos' fortunes soared. Daemons of Slaanesh answered his call in greater number, and warbands from all across the Eye flocked to his banner. Leaving his isolation, Leonatos led his armies to victory after victory, expanding his territory rapidly until the Lords of the other three Powers allied against him.

But even this wasn't enough to stop him, for Leonatos had been marked with the favor of Slaanesh. In a final, climactic battle fought within the hive-sized bones of an ancient leviathan, Leonatos slew all three of his rivals and crowned himself Tyrant of Eidolon. The temples and monuments of the rival Powers were cast down, their followers slaughtered and their cities razed. Only those who converted to the worship of Slaanesh and his champion Leonatos were spared.

In the wake of Leonatos' victory, the Sanguinor returned to Eidolon, entering the Tyrant's palace without being noticed by any of its many defenders and slaves. Sat upon his throne, Leonatos watched the golden angel approach with something resembling apprehension, wondering what price he would pay for his black heart's desire. For despite all the power he had gained from his victory and draining the blood of his rivals through his daemon sword, Leonatos still knew that the Sanguinor's might surpassed his own, and that reneging on the debt owed could yet see him lose everything he had claimed.

Yet when the Sanguinor told him what it expected of him, the Daemon Prince laughed, and the sound of it sent the slaves of his city to terrified tears.

In the years that followed, Leonatos put his new empire to work. Millions of slaves were sent to the ancient battlefields of Eidolon, covered with the debris of millennia of warfare. By the will of the Tyrant, they dug out the Chaos Titans that had been felled over the centuries.

Hereteks brought from off-world or captured from the defeated kingdoms of Eidolon toiled upon these ruined god-machines, combining forbidden sciences with unholy rituals to return them to life.

Sacrifices were made to rekindle long-dead reactors, and broken cogitator banks were replaced by rows of daemon-possessed meat-brains. The forges that had produced the weaponry needed for Eidolon's endless wars were repurposed to craft the colossal armaments required for the Titans, every piece of Titan-sized wargear blessed with the blood of thousands before it was fitted upon a god-machine.

As the bodies of the Chaos Titans were resurrected, new minds were prepared to control them. Gifted children were harvested across Eidolon and submitted to intense training regimens which were a nightmarish reflection of those employed by the Collegio Titanica. Those who made it to the end of their training became princeps and moderatii, though few were strong enough to retain their humanity and emerge dominant in the struggle against the Chaos Titans' infernal machine-spirit. Most were instead subsumed into the Titan's consciousness, their bodies wasting away as their brains still performed their function as crew.

And so, one by one, an entire Legio's worth of Chaos Titans were brought back to service.

The remnants of a machine that, in a previous epoch, had been an Imperator-Class Titan were brought to Leonatos himself, who infused his own essence within the great engine, raising it anew with his own power. His throne, along with the heart of his palace, was transferred stone by stone to the top of the Titan's immense form. The Titan was named, after its master, the Tyrant of Eidolon.

On its left arm, the slaves of the Dark Mechanicum affixed a great hellcannon, and on its right they put a blade forged from a shard of a mountain of black crystal, covering its smooth surface with eldritch runes that marked six-hundred-and-sixty-six of the Dark Prince's secret names. In the mock battles conducted against those Titans that could not be rebuilt satisfactorily, it was discovered that the union between Daemon Prince and Titan ran so deep, Leonatos could taste the blood of all who were slain by the corrupted God-Machine.

As this continued, there were those in the Eye of Terror who sought to capture these Titans for their own ends. The Times of Ending were coming, and all from the Black Legion to the Salamanders – even, it was whispered, the Raven Guard itself – were gathering the weapons with which to claim the galaxy in the new age to come.

Raiders came to Eidolon, and perished by the thousands, slaughtered by Leonatos' servants or lost to the suddenly intensified Warp currents around the daemon world. Entire warbands vanished, their ships swallowed by the Warp and subjected to unimaginable fates by the Neverborn hosts that the Sanguinor had set to protecting Eidolon. Only those who came to join Leonatos' empire were spared – though even they were not guaranteed safe passage, only the absence of certain doom.

Finally, as Light's End echoed and the Eye of Terror shook with the psychic quake of the Emperor's demise, the Tyrant of Eidolon gathered this host of God-Machines. At the feet of the daemonic engines was a vast army of slaves, cultists, and warriors, led by the few Blood Angels loyal to Leonatos.

With a great strike of its blade, the Tyrant of Eidolon tore a great rift in the fabric of reality, and the horde marched through it.

So potent was the blow that opened the way that Eidolon itself broke under its strength. As the Slaaneshi host departed, the daemon world heaved and cracked. Unable to withstand the terrible energies unleashed, the earth parted and broke apart. Entire cities were laid to waste, and monuments to Ruin that had stood since the Eye first opened tumbled down. But neither Leonatos nor his patron cared, for the Angel War beckoned, and with it the promise of ultimate victory in the Great Game.

The Tyrant led the way, crossing through the infinite madness of the Warp, the awful will of Leonatos carving a path that his servants could use as he followed the great un-light that had been set across the Sol system. For a timeless eternity the horde advanced, before finally emerging unto the sacred soil of Holy Terra itself.

There, the Tyrant of Eidolon sounded its horn, a great and terrible sound that promised the death of all who stood in its way. And as the rest of the Chaos Titans echoed the call of the greatest among them, they were answered from afar, as the ancient engines sworn to the Throneworld's defense responded to this invasion.

Once more, the God-Machines marched to war, and Humanity's birthworld shook under their steps.

AN : Another card is played. What, di dyou really think I wouldn't use at least one of the Chaos Lords introduced in the Blood Angels Index ? Come on, people.

Not much to say today, except that a lot of you liked Signal - and a lot of you are worried I am paving the way for the Imperium's loss in the Angel War and Terra's fall to the Dark Prince. All I can say is ... good. The very point of killing the Emperor was that Fate is broken : anything can happen now in the Times of Ending. When the Angel War is published, you will enjoy it a lot more if none of you are completely certain of how it will end.

And believe me : none of you will be. I have made sure of it.

As always, thanks for your support. I haven't properly started on the next Interlude, but I am hoping to get it done this week-end.

Next : Unity

Zahariel out.