Aftermath

Halls of Gorthan, Fifty-Fifth Medical Ward.

The once vibrant light in Slagar's eyes had dimmed to a mere flicker. Lying on the sterile medical slab, his gaze stared vacantly at the ceiling. When he had finally roused, the shocking news hit him like a tidal wave – he had been in a coma for over three days. The medical report, detailed a soul damage holding him captive in unconsciousness.

Awakening was not easy and the change in the Immaterium was felt immediately. Everything felt askew, a dissonant chord in the symphony of the Immaterium. Previously attuned to the harmonious energies and peaceful hymns, now he faced a jarring absence. Instead of the celestial melodies, only faint, indecipherable whispers lingered. Alarm seized him, prompting an urgent plea to the guards in his medical ward. The unsettling experience of the Immaterium made him send an emergency message to his teacher, in hopes of unraveling the mystery.

However, a reply came as a difficult-to-swallow pill from the guards, before he could even send the message out. The Great Spirit, his mentor was nowhere to be found. In the realm of potent psykers like the Old Ones, being elusive spelled ominous tidings. The latest update, a somber revelation from the Great Counsel, pinpointed an energy signature traced to the location of the Slagar's laboratory. It was an eerie signal, the prelude to the dissolution of a soul.

Arlow, the Great Spirit, had vanished, leaving suspicion to fester around the likely culprits – the Counsel of Trent and Slagar himself. Unconscious in his laboratory mere hours after the assault, he became an unwitting detainee in the medical ward. The investigation, shrouded in uncertainty, offered no clues of a third party. The ominous reality of Arlow's disappearance cast a pall over Slagar's shocked and sorrowful existence.

"Teacher, where are you?" Slagar murmured quietly.

...

Y35-BO, Waste Planet.

A command-class Old One ship hovered in the orbit of the dead planet orbiting a red sun. This was a vessel owned by none other than Weklor and utilized by the Counsel of Trent during important negotiations and diplomatic endeavors. And yet, their orbit around the waste planet Y35-BO was not normal procedure. And no personnel were aboard the command-class ship other than those fifteen Honored Ones who had ambushed Arlow earlier.

*WRRRR*

A pyramid-shaped Old One transport ship landed on the empty planet quietly. Its doors opened and four Old Ones stepped out wearing special psionic threaded space suits for environmental protection. The one at the front of the other three was recognizable as Weklor, while the three behind him were also key figures during the Necrontyr negotiations. They pressed a set of buttons on a pad next to them, which caused a marble slab to float behind them as they walked. The slab held the prototype body they had used only 3 days prior, to trap Arlow and shred his influence on the Immaterium.

The four of them did not speak as they walked, focused on their future actions and plans. They walked until they reached a deep crevice, that seemed as if an endless pit into the depths of pure darkness. It stretched so deep that this single crevice was recorded to stretch down until it was only a mile from the core of the planet. They stood silently and looked over the abyss until Weklor spoke.

"Do it." He commanded.

Two of the Honored Ones pressed more commands into the side of the stone slab, causing the slab to move forward with the auto safety features disabled. The slab floated over the edge of the Abyss and fell. The prototype body filled with that poisonous element would be buried in the core of this planet. It would never be found and never seen again. 

"Go Back," Weklor said and the four of them turned their backs on the abyss behind them.

...

The 'Abyss', Planet Y35-BO

The prototype C'tan body fell with great force. The force of gravity on this planet was five times that of Earth and the lack of atmosphere caused acceleration to continue without much resistance. It continued to fall for over three minutes until it finally impacted the uneven and narrow molten floor of the crevice below.

*SPLASH*

The body impacted the molten rocks below, splashing liquid lava into the air. It sank into the liquid rock about halfway, with its upper body and everything above the waste remaining above. The metallic face of this body was ghastly and devilish, designed to look pleasing to aesthetics, not in line with human tastes. And yet, looking at it now could be said to look a little pitiful. Cut off from its original purpose and design to induce fear and respect, it was buried to the waste in the core of some no-name planet. 

Despite it being a broken prototype, the model could have been used to provide valuable insights to the Old Ones on the applications and use of the Mytter components. Instead, it was used to destroy one of their allies and benefactors. Indeed the devilish metallic face on this body seems to have been made a joke. Its broken nature was used to rip apart an energy being that it had been made to help. Leaving nothing but an empty shell of metal.

Or was it truly empty?

The lights of the eyes of the prototype flickered quickly, silver light flashing for a fraction of a millisecond. In the depths of the machinery and the Mytter core, a tiny silver soul remained. It persevered like a tiny candle flame among the winds of a hurricane. The darkness around it encroached on it from all sides, ready to devour it. 

Sparks of darkness like embers fell like dandruff into it, ready to snuff it out completely. But something strange happened when that darkness collided with the silver candle flame. A battle took place inside it. A battle so infinitesimally small that one would ignore it even while seeing further than the atomic level. The specs of darkness were changing. Changed by a liquid silver flame within the silver soul itself. Slowly, they became part of it and the flame grew.

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Author's Note:

I never expected to gain more than 300 collections after the last chapter. Thanks everyone for your support.

More chapter on my pat reon:

pat reon/ MatheuDeWitt