Author's Note: For those interested, there are now five advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dash): p-atreon/ SkySage24.
Chosen
"Are you all aware of who the Six Muses are?"
Isha leaned back upon the throne she had conjured for herself, as she awaited the response from Iyanden's ruling Council.
The members of the Council exchanged uncertain looks before Mehlendri spoke up. "I have heard of them, but I am afraid not in much detail, Mother. I had not returned to the Dominion in tens of thousands of years before the Fall. They were leaders of the pleasure cults, were they not?"
Most of the Council nodded their assent, save for Dreamspinner and Cadaith.
The self-proclaimed heir of Ulthanesh spoke up. "No, Fleetmaster. They are worse than that. Much worse."
Dreamspinner nodded darkly, for once in agreement with his peer. "I had hoped they would have died in the Fall for their hubris, but I see that did not happen."
The rest of the Council stared at the two in surprise, taken aback by the fact that they agreed. But Isha simply propped one elbow on the armrest of her chair. "Explain who the Muses were to your peers, Dreamspinner," She commanded curtly.
The Priest bowed his head. "As you command, Your Serenity." He stood, stepping out from behind the crescent-shaped table to stand where everyone could see him.
"The Muses were leaders of the pleasure cults, but they were not just that," Dreamspinner began. "For most of the pleasure cults, their goal was to forge a new god to replace the Old Pantheon, one who would elevate them and bring about a new age of endless glory and excitement. The Muses were more… ambitious."
The Priest swept a hand in front of him, and six small spectral Eldar appeared in its wake. Each of the figures was shrouded in shadow, with glowing, malicious eyes.
"Vileth the Arrogant, Shaimesh, the Lord of Poisons, Lhilitu, Consort of the Void, Qa'leh, the Mistress of Blades, Hekatii, the Iconoclast, and Ynest the Mad. These were leaders of the pleasure cults who sought not merely to create a god, but to become gods."
The rest of Iyanden's Council gawked at the idea in undignified shock, their eyes wide.
"Is that even possible?" Sernalla asked, and when Dreamspinner raised an eyebrow at her, she shook her head. "I know that mortals have ascended to become gods through faith and worship before. But the faith and power of the entire maddened Dominion, in the form of the insanity that the pleasure cults called worship…surely, no mortal could survive being the focus of that, even if they could bend enough people to their will?"
Dreamspinner acknowledged the point with a nod. "I do not know," he said honestly. "But each of the Muses was arrogant enough to believe that they could. They led their cults and gathered followers, preaching that it was their time to ascend, with their followers ascending alongside them to become gods in turn, part of a Pantheon ruled by their chosen master."
He paused for a moment to let that sink in. "There were more than six, in the beginning. But by the end, six were all that had survived the madness of the Dominion, the fury of the pleasure cults enraged by the idea that ascension would belong to a single being, and of course, each other. The Muses were rivals, after all. In the end, none of them were ever able to gather the veneration of the entire Dominion, but they gathered enough. Feeding on the adulation of their followers, they grew monstrously powerful, bloated on worship."
The Priest cast an uncertain look at Isha, but she said nothing just yet.
Her mind was too occupied with the visions of the atrocities the Six had committed.
-Hekatti ransacking the temples and flaying Isha's priestesses alive-
-Vileth's gloating laughter as he made a feast of the bodies of Eldar children, gorging himself on their flesh and blood-
-Shamiesh's cold, clinical satisfaction as he concocted poisons that could murder worlds using the souls of a million innocents as the ingredients-
"Mother!"
Isha was startled out of her thoughts as she refocused on the Council, all of whom were staring at her with some alarm. Isha realized that thorns had begun to erupt from her flesh, her teeth had sharpened into fangs, and claws extended from her fingers as her power crackled through the room.
She hastily reigned herself back in, forcing down the aspect of the Huntress. "My apologies, children," She told the shocked-looking Council. "Please continue, Dreamspinner."
"...As you wish, my lady," Dreamspinner said warily. "As I was saying, the Muses became great and terrible creatures in their own right, akin to the Daemon Kings that our people fought in ancient times. However, when the Devourer was born, I believed that they would pay the price for their attempted usurpation, and die for it."
"They most likely would have," Isha said, taking over the conversation. "That is, if I had not escaped Slaanesh."
Dreamspinner's eyes widened in understanding even as Isha continued. "As powerful as the Dark Prince is, he is not an Incarnate as I am. He needs agents who can act in the Materium and are yet bound to his will. And who better for that than the Six?"
"So they must have been enslaved instead of devoured," Cadaith said darkly. "Life as a slave instead of an eternity of damnation."
"Yes," Isha confirmed quietly. "Cegorach told me that the Six are moving even as we speak, and have no doubt been doing so since I fled."
"But…where are they?" Sernalla asked, a puzzled frown on her face. "We have heard nothing of them. We were not hunted or pursued. They have not come to Sol for you. Why?"
Isha smiled humorlessly. "I would imagine at least one reason: they know they cannot fight the human Emperor and win. But that aside? They know I will come to them, so no doubt they are already entrenching themselves."
"Entrenching themselves where?" Invaril asked, just before it dawned on him. "Oh."
"Yes," Isha confirmed, her lips twitching into a bitter smile. "The Webway, where they know I will not abandon my children to them."
"We will not leave you to fight this alone, Mother!" Cadaith said with conviction. "We will fight at your side, and strike down the filth that dares to stand in opposition to you!"
"Thank you, my son," Isha said with a weary sigh, her smile nonetheless becoming a little more genuine. "But I fear there is still much to do before I dare venture into the Webway."
"We will prepare just as the Muses do," Mehlendri said, less fiery than Cadaith, but just as full of conviction. "They will not find us weak and vulnerable when the time comes."
Dreamspinner was less optimistic. "The Muses must be fought," he agreed. "But we are crippled. Slaanesh will no doubt let them use their power to the fullest in their pursuit of Your Serenity, even empower them for a price. But we can hardly muster any sorcery of our own for fear of falling to Slaanesh. Even with the dreamstones, we are still heavily limited in what we dare to draw from the Immaterium. Certainly not enough to fight those who came so close to the cusp of godhood."
The other council members grimaced or scowled, unable to muster any sort of argument.
But Isha had an answer for this.
"I will teach you how to channel power despite the dangers of the Dark Prince," She said softly. "In ancient times, after the War in Heaven, the Immaterium was wild and dangerous, and reality itself had been wounded. But your ancestors and my family devised ways to heal the wounds, to tame the wild energies of magic despite the dangers. It is not a perfect solution, I admit. I am not a goddess of magic like my daughter, and the dangers your ancestors faced then are not identical to the ones you face now. But it will help."
A visible sense of relief flooded through the Council chambers, all of her children present looking as if a great burden had been lifted from their shoulders.
To use magic was second nature to her children, a gift they had wielded even before the War in Heaven, built into their culture and civilization as much as something like fire was for humanity. To not be able to use it for fear of damnation, to have to teach their children not to do so…it would have been like losing a limb.
At best.
"There is also a more immediate solution," Isha said quietly. "For those of you who are willing, I can make you my Chosen, and my claim upon your souls will outweigh the one Slaanesh usurped from my mother. But I have not the power to do this for all of Iyanden, and that aside, it would mean pledging yourselves to me totally and utterly."
"For now, I will only anoint two champions. If any of you are willing, you are my first choice. But be not afraid, I will not blame any of you for hesitating. Being a Chosen is a demanding life, and all of you carry great burdens already."
Isha waited.
For a long moment, there was silence, and then Cadaith sprang to his feet, striding forward to kneel in front of her.
"It would be the greatest honour of my life to be your champion, Mother," he said, his eyes shining with conviction and truth. "I can think of no higher calling. I know my ancestor Ulthanesh would want me to do this."
Mehlendri joined, bending one knee. "For once, Cadaith is correct," she said, ignoring the offended look her peer gave her. "I too would be honoured."
"Thank you," Isha said with a smile, rising to her feet. "Then it is time."
The other Council members held their breath as Isha placed one hand each on Mehlendri and Cadaith's heads, closing her eyes.
Then they snapped open, burning a vivid emerald. The smell of freshly blooming flowers drifted through the room, and visions of palaces of crystal amidst great forests appeared in the minds of everyone present.
Behind Isha, her shadow grew larger and more prominent, yet also different. Not a direct reflection of the form that cast it, but with a crown upon her head and a sceptre in her hand.
"Do you swear to act to protect your people, no matter what?"
Isha's voice resonated down to the bones of the entire Council, a voice regal and unyielding, which demanded absolute truth and brooked no lies.
"I do," Mehlendri said, struggling to speak against the weight on her, even as the truth was pulled from her soul. Cadaith echoed her a second later.
"Do you swear to defend the innocent, regardless of where they come from or what race they might be?"
This one was harder. Both Mehlendri and Cadaith's foreheads were beaded with sweat as they struggled with the question, unable to lie and yet battling against their own bias.
Could they truly defend the lives of lesser beings, those who were not Aeldari? Could they risk their own lives in such a pursuit and commit all their power to it?
But in the end, they both had one answer, for the desire to make their mother proud outweighed any ingrained contempt for other races: "...yes."
"Do you swear that you will serve me in life and beyond, and that not even death will be the end of your duty?"
This was easier, despite the harshness of it.
What child did not love their mother? What subject shied away from service to their queen?
And death was nothing for an Eldar. Damnation and eternal torment were to be feared, yes. But death? From which they could return, from which they would be called back to serve their mother and goddess once more?
Nothing to be afraid of at all.
"We do," they said in unison, for once in perfect agreement.
"Then rise, my Handmaiden and my Knight. Rise and know you are worthy. That you are Chosen!"