41. Predicted End

-Fall back.- A calm authoritative echoed across the minds of thousands of Aeldari, the owner and evidence to all, Archdeacon Majun, and the meaning behind the calm order even more so.

This mission was from the Gods themselves, a divine edict of great importance they had the immense honor to make reality, for their Gods were the truth and only authority to abide in this dwindling galaxy of depravity and insanity. It was a mandate, simple in nature, to gain time and complete one relatively uncomplicated yet extended ritual in its preparation and personnel required.

It was to transplant a part of space-time to another. It was an equivalent exchange, at least within the present context, and in reality, it was two such rituals happening at once. The one here and the other in the alternate dimension, the Dark Cradle, and precisely on the planet of Kamal, the central world of the Khrave and the heart of their civilization for the past eons.

It was the optimal location for reality, and unreality was under the dark dominion of the Beast and impenetrable to the schemes of emotional tumors; however, doing so came with a price. The price of secrecy would reveal it if someone talented and powerful enough used the psychic feedback the exchange would project. A reality that was certain to come to fruition.

But this piece of knowledge was pointless without the ability to use it, and unless the Bloody-Handed God himself was freed, little to nothing could be done. The Archdjinni of the Rings measures were untouchable and incomprehensible by mortals and beyond.

It was to say that the risks were minimal and effectively null; the war with the Aeldari Empire would have come no matter the circumstance, and this trail would serve as a diversion. One ending in dissatisfaction.

Regardless, the present was set, and the journey was known.

"Oh dear! No! Do not leave me behind in the presence of this lunatic pyromaniac wen-sh-" Trazyn the Infinite scream was deafened by an immense explosion of psychic fire that ate through his entire left arm, destabilizing the stasis field he put his knife eared fiery pursuer in.

"ENOUGH! BE PURIFIED FROM YOUR SINS BY THE HOLY FLAME OF JUDGMENT AND JUSTICE!" The Dark Muse known as the Red Crone hollered, her strident psychic-enhanced scream echoed across Solemnace.

"Fu-" The Overlord swearing was interrupted by an alien sensation not felt for what might very well be counted in eternity, especially pain. How remained an impossibility as was the impossible sensation.

Though calling it so would be inaccurate, artificial psychic pain on higher ranked Necron had been effective, if only ever done by the Archdjinni of the Rings, the Devil, for whatever reason, the mad beast of destruction thought as necessary and seemingly excelled and reveled in. And the knowledge of it visibly had passed the damage of time, only striving to 'improve.'

Trazyn would work under such a monstrous creature, but the pain from the blow he failed to dodge was sufficient to evaporate all his past, present, and future doubts. Clearly, pain worked that much, he could begrudgingly admit.

"FLEEING FROM THE CURSED CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR UNWORTHY EXISTENCE IS USELESS! ACCEPT MY MAGNANITUDE!" The Aeldari continued her pursuit as Trazyn his escape, and in a flash of green particles, he disappeared, leaving Hekatii in her rageful lonesome.

Like a rabid animal, she searched for her prey, but unlike the hundredth of precedent time, the Overlord could not be found. There was a short moment of confusion; the pattern had been shattered, and within that time of silence, her mind cooled enough for her to understand as his eyes turned to the spellcraft finishing to be woven.

She had been tricked, utterly fooled like an ignorant babe; the little rationality that may have existed vanished, burned to ash under the baleful flame of her anger. All light from the dimmest flicker of green to the multitude of chandeliers for one fraction of a second vanished as a star appeared.

One of pure, unfiltered, rampaging wrathful psychic power as the Red Crone abandoned all measure of restraint, yet it was too late, far too late. Time and space may contort in her presence as she flew like a shooting meteor in the night sky, hands wide open to annihilate all, but it was too late regardless and of no use.

The ritual had reached completion, and every of the traitorous Aeldari, dead or alive, was gone in a muted sound of glass shattering, the objects within as well. However, there was little time to rage as raw existential terror followed after this act of disapparition.

The shattered rules of reality forced themselves together stronger than ever in unstoppable, rippling pulses of translucent energy. Any and all defying them were eclipsed and forced into the gaping maw of absolute nihility. Screams were heard, visceral and strident, as unfortunate pious ones had their souls extinguished.

It snapped Hekatii back to the world of the thinking folks. She immediately ordered the retreat, and all conscious answered, but one was missing.

-Qa'leh!- She telepathically cried amid the dying loyal citizens of the Empire to her fellow Dark Muse, and she got a blank. However, it let her pinpoint where the Mistress of Blade is… was. Chained on an unholy construct was Qa'leh, her expression of fear etched over her immaculate feature, an expression that shouldn't, couldn't exist on one such as her, and yet…

And yet it was the observable empirical reality Hekatii witnessed as a superior being whose mind and soul were slowly eroded to a point where little remained.

Unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE. Their fate was not to be so! Death was inconceivable through such a path, and not until the time was ripe!

From the Red Crone's back, hundreds of fiery, malleable hands exploded and dived into the realm of reality, and she followed them, the two enough not to be snuffed out, but her power dwindled steeply and never stopped.

But she was quick, and the seal was weak, and so incandescent flames coiled around the comatose Mistress of Blades, then she fled with her prize, teleporting herself with her fellow Dark Muse at the heart of her vessel.

The assault had been thwarted; they had tricked themselves into defeat, and this day will forever be remembered and become a catalyst.

Yet in another place at the heart of the highest peak of the Dark City known as Commoragh was a spacious, luxurious room in which the details of this failure were spoken openly…

"Disappointing but unsurprising. Those are no mere inferior life forms, and the two have grown detached from reality. It was a necessary reminder of their roots." Vileth, the Cardinal Gospel, and the head of the Dark Muses spoke with disinterest, a soft hand of palish grey skin on his chin as the other twirled a glass of liquefied yet aware tortured souls.

His appearance of a young Aeldari entering adulthood was the example of falsehood to its letters, the same for his clothing betraying all ideas of his station. Simple and unrefined, one might even call them barring if not for the punishment that would follow. The only notable feature was elegant feathered gauntlets ending in talon-like claws.

And his words were true. The chance of the attack on the soulless automaton fortress to be successful was extensively slim. Information gathering had been the main goal, and the lack of the ring, while frustrating, was merely the end of a branch in a forest of plans from the great chaos beyond.

It was a measure to gain time, but they had enough already; more would have been a luxury. The awakening was too late; change was to come, and the nascent and ancient will merge.

When the Golden Light achieves its purpose, he will be free from the shackles of life, and the rageful godling with its kins will be punished in all-consuming gluttonous destruction.

"Ah… That's a bit harsh, don't you think, my little Vily?" To his left, splayed with little clothing to cover her body from wandering eyes, the pointy-eared woman said with a slight pout.

"A little tour and field experiments in my personal collection would have sufficed. Umm..." She added with a gleeful giggle while trailing her hand down her exposed flesh, one of her fingers cutting thinly through the layer of her rosy, glimmering skin as she barely kept a moan from escaping her supple red lips.

"Heavily debatable to have worthy results, Lhilitu. I'm against it." Another voice exclaimed from the side to the Consort of the Void. The tone was young, as was the owner's appearance—a woman appearing even younger than the Cardinal Gospel with charcoal black hair and eyes. Yet again, it was nothing more than a fraud. Changing one's appearance was available to even the lowliest Aeldari.

She was sitting cross-legged on the carpet and using psychic light to build an impossibly complex structure, another discrete of the Dark City, thousands upon thousands of interconnected layers, with an equal quantity of blockages, ladders, stairs, and traps contained within.

A distended smile formed on her demure feature at countless earlier-mentioned traps. The subsequent defenses and their functions only widened it. However, there was far more in how her creation interacted with the Webways.

She was Ynesth, the Dark Lady of Ash, the creator of the Dark City, and so much more, all more twisted than the last.

"I concur with the bonesinger. I'm not blind, and the Mon'Keigh will not be played with until trapped, poisoned, and paralyzed. Clearly, they are… resourceful little pests." Shaimesh added cooly from his position. A holographic tablet was in his hands as he fiddled with it, simulating an entire laboratory beyond the realm of understanding of any living race.

"Muuu… Numerical advantages! No fai-ah!" Lhilitu complained and, to soothe her grievance, she dug her sharp fingernails into her skin to the muscle layer and more not afraid to get to the bottom; while this happened, her remaining hand moved down her navel.

The entire scene of her playing with her insides, both metaphorically and literally, left the audience present palpably unmoved by her immense frustration and delight at being ignored and disregarded as if she were a vulgar piece of trash. As long as the sofa wasn't tainted too much, the master of the room would let her do as she pleased, whatever expression of lust it might be.

"Hm. Oh, and what of the injuries from the exposure to activated Blackstone Pillars?" Shaimesh asked as if an epiphany hit him, "Qa'leh would certainly be impeded from her functions for a number of cycles. I volunteer to assist in her recovery. The damage brought by such a unique construct would prove enlightening. May I?"

There were a few seconds of silence where the only sounds were the ecstatic moans of pain and pleasure from the Consort of the Void and that of Vileth sipping his delectable beverage.

"You will, but not in your lonesome." The strongest Dark Muse informed, warping his empty glass away, which attracted the intention of all.

"A new face?" Lhilitu questioned curiously, her tone in dramatic opposition to her present actions of extreme self-indulgence.

"Who would it be? There are few worthy but enough to blur the lines…" Ynesth added, her mind visualizing the potential candidate and ending on one likely possibility given the context. He would indeed be worthy from his mind alone, added to his feats and power, and it became a piece of evidence. Doubt remained, however.

Shaimesh remained silent, neither showing joy nor displeasure.

"You may enter Urien Rakarth." At this curt intonation, a thinly built Aeldari in a long trenchcoat of flesh with long black hair teleported in, his demeanor regal and respectful as he bowed deeply to each Dark Muse with a bright, enthusiastic smile, whether it was genuine or not, it was impossible to tell.

"Greetings, it's an honor for one such as me to be in your presence."

•••••

Fiddling with a divinely carved ring using my Avatar, I grinned widely.

The six were gathered, well five if I'm to be exact, but that is one and the same with it being under a domain I control and monitor. It was mockingly easy to gather them, aside from this one, but I didn't consider it an arduous task.

My favorite bat had just put a bit of effort in testing himself and so where the others and for that eternal glory will befall them, but regardless. It was only the beginning of the war.

"Hmm! What would you do with that little piece of jewelry, dear little brother?" A giggling voice said from behind, placing an elbow between my horn and snatching the ring from me.

Cegorach… Urg… Then let's play!

Without fanfare, I summoned a portal below my feet and above the thief to land on his shoulder, taking my property back.

"It's a secret~!" I hummed, grabbing the left and right cap'n bells of his jester hat and him as my loyal steed.

"Yeesss~! A secret, I understand. It's part of your master plan, and I shall not inquire further!" The clown bellowed, and I rolled my eyes, snorting in amusement at his antics.

How unpleasant and pleasant it was.

"You appear to deeply appreciate your Avatar, brother. Or is my judgment amiss on the perceived value of your long overdue birthday present?" I noted, and he rapidly nodded, making sure to shake me as much as possible while at it. Cheeky shit.

Anyway.

His Avatar had been done shortly after obtaining the artifacts; their power infused in the body puppet through a short incantation, and it was done.

Remarkably unchallenging.

For entities such as us, creating Avatars would be highly complex. Still, we were created with that functionality, the frog bitch had many faults, but her competencies in the creations of life were and are unparalleled.

"Very much so. The craftsmanship and power pale to what I used in the past, but being free if only by proxy outshine any quantity of power." Cegorach seriously explained.

"Freedom. If only bringing you over would be without opening the gate to an unstoppable rampage." I remarked, fully agreeing on his first point.

"Alas, that is the card we are to play with!" He brought his arms up in a flamboyant display.

"Speaking of, what would you say of a short visit to the world inhabited by creatures that once upon a time I was?"

The answer was positive, and I only grinned harder, the smile positively inhuman in every aspect.

*

My P@treon if you are interested.

p@treon.com/user?u=60424165