Capítulo 31: 31. First Avatar
Avatar.
A word that meant many yet so little things depending on the context. For many mortals, it meant nothing, a vague term used to explain what is not understood by implicating false creation in physical phenomena such as lightning.
But there were exceptions, and that was where the true meaning lay. It was a principle using countless methods for being generally unable to interact with Realspace. A physical representation of their power is in fragments, taking a simplified version of their true form.
I created such things in the war by the hundreds and the same for the others in the pantheon using our blood, bones, and the like as the central piece of sculpture of the highest quality wraithbone that were then blessed and infused with our power.
But their uses had lessened to a point they disappeared with the rising intensity of the war, rendering them obsolete. They couldn't contend with the powerful C'tan remaining and ever-increasing Necron firepower. But at that point, they had served their purpose. They existed only for lesser battles across the cosmos, to thin out the enemies' number and resources with minimal risk to ourselves if it were a trap or something of the like.
And what I desired to do was something of a similar nature; remaining in my prison and plotting by using my followers was shameful, irritating, and unproductive. And I couldn't eat, the absence of the biological requirement to do so not changing my unnatural love for sweets and pastries.
Though what I had in mind wouldn't let me do such frivolous things, first and foremost, I needed a versatile tool capable of stealth, defense, support, fighting, and travel. My little bats could only do so much alone with my guidance through words and visions or even voluntary possession.
Aeldari had more than psychic power, pointy ears, and long lives. They were the sapient mortals race the most attuned to this energy of soul and emotions. It was more. It was a state of existence that let them exist beyond their meat suits.
To put it into simple terms, the Khraves could not craft an Avatar equal to the Aeldari, even if both crafters were of equal talent and experience. It wasn't fair; nurture couldn't beat nature at every step. But that wasn't their fault. You don't judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, more so when the squirrel was artificially biologically engineered to be the most efficient at doing that.
It would have been a waste, to begin with; I could only use a fraction of a fraction of my power outside the bottle due to the limited worship. The many constraints on my person led to a more modest solution tied to the gathering of one of my rings, a key ingredient for what had been made.
If I had more, I could do bigger, but I only had one at this moment, so I did with what was in my claws.
My ring will be my focus, a point for me to project corded strands of telepathy. This will be the core of a puppet, the power source of the Warp itself in its undiluted but purified form. Pure psychic energy for me to mold as I saw fit.
It was a simple puppet, one of two colors, one of brilliant bronze and the other of shining teal, a humanoid with six smooth limbs, sword-like legs, and four tentacled arms. All body parts were malleable into different forms, granting different advantages at the cost of other weaknesses.
The design was heavily inspired by one of my memories from the same game where a monster was akin to my body. The complete name eluded me, but I knew it had a 'd' and 'x.' As such, its name was Danxama, an etymology in Aeldari that would be related to death and memory, meaning the forgotten or the elusive killer.
I was at this very instant piloting it, moving into R'lyeh, the immense city stretching across the range of star systems in a five-dimensional plane intricately tethered to the lower crust of Yuggoth. Its ethereal beauty and ever-moving activities were gone, replaced by an endless void that never ceased to grow the deeper one would get.
And the source of this void was me. The Flask of Sealing was not foolproof, and while it blockaded me, it didn't do so for everything. It was made for me, but its creator died before it was perfected. My awakening had led to this, a dark pressure muting all senses, and each step taken to me became increasingly harder, physically and mentally.
Psychic power and technology will wane and malfunction, landmarks will shift height and direction will change, and time will lose its meaning.
Then, when a certain point is reached, the visitors would find themselves unable to move, and if they decided to do so before this point of no return, they would find themselves lost in the infinite underground citadel.
Though it would be without me guiding them in all cases to reach me, and even then, strength and resilience were required in immense quantities. Only the greatest could hope to come. I could reduce this fog, but it would give the Flask of Sealing time of respite. The seal has weakened in the millennia since my awakening, proving my effort.
In fact, it was going faster than my estimate; still, I didn't count on that to free me any time soon. However, it would let myself use more and more power and authority.
None of this mattered to Danxama. Maybe if it was to get into the Great Council where I lay, but that wasn't the case and I wouldn't be able to use it to open the bottle if I had all the rings. It would just not open; I was forbidden from doing so by design.
I moved the puppet in its speed form, body thinned and head in a recurved star. I advanced within the sunken city and arrived at my objective in under five minutes.
Halting its movement with a thought, all the kinetic energy was pushed in an immense shockwave capable of shattering mountains. Still, to the massive black door of immaculate craftsmanship in front of it, the result was as expected. Nothing, and it wasn't designed to sustain attack. Like most of everything here, it wasn't made with the possibility of enemies penetrating the outer defense.
And this philosophy was spread across all Old Ones' creations. For them, it was an impossibility, and as beings operating by the percentage of success and failure with an unhealthy amount of sycophant pride, their choices were heavily debatable.
The only defense for the Hall of Command was a psychotactile biometric reader requiring the handprints and psychic signature of any Great Old Ones. The problem was that it didn't consider that both could ever be falsified, for all the supposed genius they were lacking.
And so I morphed the hands of Danxama into the one of my sweet and loving mother, twelve digits counting four thumbs, two on each hand and one on each side. Then, I activated a complex illusory spellwork that turned purified psychic essence into mimicking Cthylla's presence.
Runes lit up, and with an earthshaking clack, the doors opened up and down, letting my puppet enter the place that housed the Celestial Wheel. And it had the same security as the door, and I directly took control of it. The device was a multidimensional map combining the Labyrinthine Dimension, Milky Ways, and the old Seas of Souls with the Well of Eternity as the heart and Yuggoth put into evidence.
Pushing my will into it, I reshaped the part about the Sea of Souls, making it roughly up to date with my current knowledge. Three realms appeared corresponding to the contradictory birdbrain, the diseased slug, and the rageful paraplegic, Yuggoth deep into the first.
That was to change today; an invisible energy ripple spread across the ancient planet, and its orbit changed under my command. The final destination was unknown to me, for there was none. From then on, the Wandering Planet was born.
Exiting the Hall of Command, I ordered Danxama to go to the bottom of the city to access and restart the Blackstone Foundry. Though for the latter, I would have to make the Khrave mine the exotic elements necessary, some in blackhole, others in dead stars, and others in the Warp.
There was much to do, and with what I had discovered in the mind of the twisted Aeldari child, there was little time to waste. I would have to forgo discretion in most of what I had planned.
Little were the words that could explain the folly that is the Aeldari Empire falling in. Hedonism, vice, excess of all kinds, senseless violence, and that at all levels of society, there were exceptions, pockets of sanity remaining. Still, they were not the majority, and Eölim was part of the gentler side of the madness.
It was grave, horrifically so. And what I said to Majun was true. It was 'boredom,' but saying only that would be egregious simplification and veiled truth.
After the war was won, the Aeldari were supposed to be guided by both Gods and Old Ones, with my little self being sealed away for future destruction along the line. Of course, because I didn't want to die and was petty, it didn't happen, and the toads died instead, and I still got sealed.
To that point, I didn't see any problem outside of my calculation. The curse aside, I didn't fear one of the Young Races falling; my brothers and sisters were still there as guides. I had been what I would usually think of Isha: too idealistic. I was too human at times.
Eölim was cultured, but she lacked information about a lot of things. However, there was enough to know that Khaine rampaged two times. The first was after my betrayal, and his blind rage was aimed at not only my followers but anything living; the second event was far more recent, dating two million years back, and that date was significant.
For what reason it happened, I didn't know. Still, it appeared to be of a genocidal nature, a classic of his if the records of thousands of worlds with billions of inhabitants being ripped apart to their souls on each was any indication.
My psychotic brother failed, and from then, worship that wasn't in the best of shape already unsurprisingly began to decline further. It also correlated to the reinforcement of the barrier in the Labyrinthine Dimension. I could deduce that it wasn't only to protect Realspace from the Warp but from Khaine's second bloody crusade on our people.
I wasn't surprised or angry, just extremely disappointed. He didn't seem to have changed, only gotten worse. The religion in Aeldari society began its eternal downfall, and the Empire culture, with it, both connected and increased one another in a vicious cycle.
Though there were pockets of reclusive groups that Eölim was aware of, but didn't see purpose in learning more. They were only 'cultists'; as such, I lacked information, but from what I got, it was either Isha, Kurnous, Lileath, or Cegorach, likely the four. There likely were others, like the little groups, trying to connect to me, but for them, I was working on taking them in with the higher castes of Khraves.
The actual danger, however, was that we were made to be powered by the worship of the Aeldari, me less than my brethren, for I had other alternatives.
Worship was a conscious effort, an act that was aimed and filled with deep purpose and meaning. Specific actions and emotions, no matter what will increase our strength, but without a focus it will be nearly meaningless, more so for complex ones.
And those actions were a source of power, and I didn't like to depend on them. It was wavering and could go down faster than it went up. I fear it's the case for the Pantheon, and why Asuryan wasn't acting didn't reassure me. He should know and understand what it means.
Then, the second source of worry, the worship absent meant all those emotions and actions went somewhere else, and most didn't go to Nurgle, Khorne, and Tzeentch; the bulk of the current Aeldari psychic emanation didn't fall into their repertoire of activities.
There were parallels, such as lust for battle and sex or schemes to torture victims and eliminate rivals or diseases for the same reasons, but that stopped there. Most didn't go to them, didn't power them in any meaningful ways.
There was something else, and by the nature of this realm, it could mean anything and nothing at the same time, a paradox without answers, the damage done to the Well of Eternity by the lizard bitch to get my soul only worsening things. Fuck her and her kind. I truly regret not having to make her suffer more.
What was certain was that these emotions went somewhere, fueling something that was hidden, coalescing and growing hidden from my sight. If it was by the three psychic tumors' wills, I couldn't confirm it or by the fourth itself.
The time streams of the Warp were disorganized, and portions of the Warp from sister realities were pouring in so it could both be here and not simultaneously. It would also explain the strength of the three others. There were what they embodied in the Milky Way, but not enough for them to be that strong.
Morai-Heg should be able to tell me more, however. Talking to her would be the hard part if she didn't foresee it to be.
Another point of certainty was that they were at play in what was happening, at least Tzeentch had with the proverbial fourth. Many hints in Eölim mind pointed to indirect external influence. The ephemeral and legendary Dark Muses, for one, she didn't know who or even what they were, but words had spread of their inspirational exploits.
I can't anthropomorphize them, but if change is what Tzeentch wants, then the destruction of the Aeldari Empire and a new brother or sister or whatever new abomination would grant just that. The same was true for the two others; they didn't have sapience in the same way others did, nor free will, but they had desires, their growth, and spread, and would act toward that.
I had lacked knowledge and understanding after my rebirth… My first impression of those 'Chaos Gods' was horrifically wrong. They threatened my existence; they couldn't exist, mustn't exist, and it had become a pressing matter. The damages to reality were a second thought at best.
I wasn't going to watch the psychic cataclysm unfold while twirling my non-existent thumb of my six talons. Risk would need to be taken, a new Master would be crafted under my guidance, and so much more.
Though I wasn't going with haste, I didn't desire to get lost on my path by blinding myself in my hubris.
•••••
Washing upon the sand of a magnificent beach was the pure salty water of a sea that would be called many names but most widely known as the Mediterranean Sea, one of the most prolific basins of Humanity civilization.
Walking upon the sand of such a place was a young female Homo Sapiens barely past her nine Summer. She hummed a melody in an ancient language as she happily hopped alongside the calm waves, the dying lodos wind moving her hair softly.
Her eyes were darting around in search of those strange, funny, and shiny objects from the great depth of the water. They were for her mother, and she was attentively looking for them, and not any of them. She wanted the most beautiful, and she had found the equivalent of five fingers that were in her pouch made of stitched scrap animal hide.
Then her mouth fell agape, and her iris dilated, poking from the moisture sand and unearthed by the calm waves, was the most beautiful object she ever saw. No, it was far beyond beautiful, the golden shine akin to the Sun and the Moon while the blue gemstone encompassed the bewitching beauty of the night sky and ocean.
Falling on her knees, she extended her trembling hand toward the divine artifact, for there was no other explanation. It was a gift of the gods, spirits, and nature in all their grand magnanimousness.
Shakily grabbing it, her breath hitched as if it would break and the wrath of creation on herself and her family. Her heart almost stopped as it shifted to be handled by her, then she gasped, a voice echoed in her mind. The voice of a being above the divine, and it was musical and exquisite to hear, like a heavenly melody.
-Oh, who might you be, little girl, a new older Holder of the Key or a Prophet of the Fall?-
*
My P@treon is up to chap 39 if you are interested.
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REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
The_Bip_Boop2003
The_Bip_Boop2003 Hello, first Avatar, understanding of the threat of Chaos by Hoopa, partially at least, and first contact with human.
Bye-bye!
Capítulo 32: 32. Humanity
-Oh, who might you be, little girl, a new older Holder of the Key or a Prophet of the Fall?-
The little girl froze, eyes widening and body trembling, heart racing, and breathing quickly and irregularly, falling into hyperventilation. But all of a sudden, a sensation of calm and peace washed over her soul, and she felt herself come back from her fall.
"Wh-what? W-who are you…? Where ar-are you?" She asked, her eyes darting all around, looking for the being speaking to her, a being she instinctively felt from deep in her soul was above all that she knew. The voice was merely an addition.
-The ring young human. It's through it that I'm communicating with you. As for me… I'm known by many names and titles, but you can call me Shahar, the One who Guide the Lost Souls in the Darkness, the Lord of the Dawn. And you, what is your name, or have you one?- The voice, now named Shahar, said, and there was a long moment for the human girl to find her words.
"Yes! In-Inanna daugh-ter of Ezra and Acantha." Inanna half squealed, half stuttered, the latter seemingly disappearing; the more words flowed, the clearer they were, as if her mind was lulled into a zen state.
-Then Inanna, let's begin our journey back to them.- He said softly, and she stood up, dusting the sand off her legs, and did as the divine voice asked, the idea of never refusing once gracing her mind.
The same was true for the understanding of words and abstract concepts no one of her status and times could or should understand, the knowledge silently seeping into her mind by the will of Shahar. That wouldn't do if he were to speak and his audience hearing from one ear and the information slipping from the other, would it?
"What-at do you desire from me, Oh Great Lord?" Inanna tentatively asked, fear flashing in her eyes as if the mere fact of doing this was a reason to punish her and all she held precious to her heart.
-There is no reason to be afraid, young human. I will not smite you. As for what do I desire from a mortal? To heed my words, for cataclysm awaits us all, and I wish for your people to survive.- He intoned with a grave tone that made the girl's heart rate increase.
-Though do not panic; the Fall is for a time of which you would have turned to dust upon the winds unless you prove to be worthy of perpetuity.- He added with a light chuckle as if the prospect of immortality was nothing of value, not that Inanna understood it. She was too young.
"Ah, okay." She said there was too much information and little personal knowledge to say more than this. Even with her filling with new understanding, it was all nebulous.
And so, with the godly artifact held between careful hands, Inanna began the journey back to the village. While doing so, at some point, she started to ask questions about the knowledge she was gaining and her natural curiosity. Each time, she was getting more comfortable.
"How tall is tall?"
"What keeps the big fire in the sky burning?"
"Who fills and empties the sea?"
"Why do Ma and Da sometimes make loud, happy noises with clap-clap when it's dark?"
"When is where?"
"Is heaven made of meat? Can I share it with my little brother and eat it together?"
And these types of questions, most random and senseless, with some minutely more interesting than others. Half ended without an answer, and the other with varying responses from Shahar.
-Silence.- At this, the human girl obeyed. This was not as soft as before. It was an order, and her mouth shut down, and as she was going to ask, Shahar stopped her.
-You can think, and I will hear you. There is no necessity to speak. Put the ring on and follow my instructions. There is something prancing around here. Something that would happily feast on your entrail and beating heart.- Were his words followed the next instant by her mentally agreeing in confused fright.
Then she clumsily put her hand into an odd praying position, tips of thumbs, index and pinky fingers touching one another while the middle and ring finger folded for both to connect by their middle phalanx.
A prayer that the Khrave knew, but here it was pretty different in what it could with the Key of the Flask, a fragment of a God, and through miracles become a reality. Minor in the cosmos but immense for mortals.
Her eyes rolled back, and her mouth opened as she entered a trancelike state. The voice that left her lips was hers, yet not. It was distorted both high-pitched and deep with words of a language unknown to this planet, Anoqeyån. The language of magic itself. As each verse ended, the incantation became faster, soon reaching speed beyond what was biologically possible.
The world's light grew dimmer, the movement of the air and the leaves abated, and for a breath of time that seemed to stretch for eternity, every sound ceased. Then, in front of Inanna, reality fractured, and all in half, circles exploded into shards of what once were the packs of wolves waiting, exploding into countless fragments of bones and flesh.
She fell to her blood trickling from her eyes, nose, and ears, her hand clutching the forest ground as she breathed heavily.
She lifted her head, and her wide-open eyes stared in shock at the devastating result of her words, for hundreds of meters all but annihilated to pieces of glass. Then she felt like her mind had expanded, connected to something incomprehensibly large, an endless well of energy, and she gazed at one of her hands crackling with blue electricity.
-How do you feel, Inanna? How does it feel to be the first psychic human to walk on this earth?- With this grand, a sensation of calmness washed over her, stopping any strong reaction that could potentially lead her to harm herself by mistake.
"Incredible…" She said breathlessly; the realization of what happened and what it meant was impossible for her to comprehend, but what she understood was that all would change from that day.
-Excellent, let's heal the damage upon your body first, and we should continue. There is a lot for you to discover and experience. Dying so soon would be unpleasant.- Shahar or, more accurately, Hoopa said as he guided the future Mother of Psyker onto her first ritual to heal her wounds.
He had much planned for this species he once was part of, but to enact those plans, he needed to start little, and awakening the latent psychic potential of humans was the beginning.
Of course, all within the freedom of those future individuals, though it would be more than simple hubris from his obsession with that subject tied to his history but also divinities. They were so much more than control over aspects of reality and unreality. They were an integral part of him and reflected in his everything.
Though he was very good at deals and powers came at a price, a price that he counted on to claim in due time in itty-bitty favor.
But then again, it would be for millennia ahead, and at the moment, he would have to play the imaginary, not-so-imaginary friend of a mortal girl.
'A never-ending cycle of masters for me to obey? Is that so, Mother… You need to word your order more precisely, a lesson not even in imminent death you have learned.' He internally chuckled, guiding the first psyker on the correct shape of the pentacle and where the wolves' organs shall be.
Countless light years from there, in the heart of the Labyrinthine Dimension, or Webways as it more commonly came to be called, was an ancient palace of immaculate gold upon white marble, creating a place beyond the realm of art.
And within the center of this palace, the Celestian Enclave, was the Thrones Room. Sitting on the most imposing thrones, one of the molten stars and living flames, was the Phoenix King, Asuryan, and his blazing-eyed shinned staring into the incompressible treacherous waves of the Warp.
Speaking of traitorous…
"The Traitor has awakened." He stated matter of factly with cold fury, hands clutching on the armchair and shattering them as his revelation echoed in the ears of his brothers and sisters.
The first to react was a figure almost parallel to him in appearance if not for the violence and aggressiveness made manifest into physicality. Rage of immensity far superior to Asuryan radiated from his form. It was so bright that it exploded outward, ignoring all barriers and echoing through the veil into the chaotic psychic realm.
Without words but a rageful shriek of hate, Khaine, in a blast of psychic power with the potency dwarfing the largest of supernovas, disappeared, leaving behind his metallic throne little more than molten slag as the Bloody-Handed God.
"Oohh! What a pretty light show! Could have done better on the musical performance, but oh well! Can't have it all." Cegorach exclaimed, clapping his hand happily, earning a glare from his Forgebound brother.
"Silence, buffoon! This is no time for your tomfoolery and senseless humor." Vaul snapped, irritation oozing from his every word.
"Enough!" Asuryan said coolly, then focused on the Crone, "Morai-Heg spoke of what you have seen."
"The Fallen God has awakened from his deathly slumber-" The first head began, "-the Great Motherworld under his rule moved from the Father of Lies' pitiful phantom realm-" and the last finished, "-Freedom he seeks and stops the Hour Demise he desires."
The last part caused an added layer of tension in the room; none were ignorant of the future that awaited them, death and destruction, but to whom they remained uncertain. Lileath had sensed the coming destruction, and through deduction, the hypothetical culprits had been chosen: their children, the Aeldari.
This piece of news had sent Khaine into a frenzy on Realspace, murdering and destroying without mercy on their subjects as he did after the betrayal where he annihilated the near totality of Hoopa followers, killing a third of every mortal race in his blind vengeance.
"Does he succeed, sister?" Kurnous questioned inquisitively, his clawed fingers tapping rhythmically on his left muscular arm. There were no readable emotions in his rumbling voice but a sensation of feigning hope.
"Yes." The youngest head said, "No," the middle-aged one contradicted the former, and the oldest finished with dread, "The darkness blind my sight, and so does the False Architect whose eyes are darkened."
"We are in the unknown. Excellent, that's what we needed, then what do we do?" Vaul commented in irritation at their situation. Though there was no particular disrespect aimed at the tricephalic Goddess, he didn't want to be punished, certainly not by her, and he respected her too much to slight her.
"We go and help our dear darkest and favorite little brother of ours, of course!" The Great Harlequin exclaimed as if it was the most evident thing in the world. His self-assured nods show off his pride in his idea.
"Madness!" Vaul violently disagreed, "I knew you were always close, too much, in my opinion! You knew of his treacherous plannhhhg!-"
"Tata~! Keep your opinion to yourself. Would you do me that little favor, broootheeer?" The clown deity sang, invoking a red squeaky ball in the Forgebound's mouth whose anger reached new heights, as did the squeaking noise of the gag.
"Both of you, cease this at once," Asuryan commanded, and with a pout, his most eccentric brother obeyed while the Patron of all Crafts scowled, spitting the ball out with a snarl.
"It greatly pains me to admit, but Cegorach is correct." Lileath's voice echoed, painting many contradictory emotions in the chamber, "It is too late to alter what has begun, and we would need… We would need…"
She stopped feeling the eyes of her King fall on her and, with it, an oppressive pressure.
"Continues, do you wish to say that we lack the strength to fight against the tumors of the Sea of Souls?" He asked, hunching forward, his massive form of pure light casting a shadow on the younger Goddess.
But it wasn't Lileath who answered.
"Yes." Isha intoned with a displeased frown, staring into his flaming eyes unblinkingly with calm defiance, his surprise clear to his audience at the gentle Goddess' action, "Asuryan, we have waned and are but a pale shadow of our glory. Our mistakes will prove our downfall and our children's destruction if we do not act."
"Isolation has not done us good. And as for him… His power is of the most vital nature for us to lighten our dark path. His crimes are secondary to annihilation by those twisted abominations and the death of countless." She declared with a firmness none was used to but her mate Kurnous, though for different reasons that were not here.
"I commend this reunion to be ended. You can proceed to your domain." Asuryan bellowed, teleporting into the First Layer where his chamber lay. An awkward silence took place; this reaction was abnormal and baffling on multiple levels.
"Heh, if that isn't an anticlimactic end." Cegorach chuckled, his head snapped at 360°, and he asked the Crone with a giggle, "Can I, Momo?"
Already knowing, she nodded from her middle head before her body turned to sand wafted by the wind, her pretense unneeded here and destination to where her Consort went. The damages of his rampage would have to be reversed after all.
"What is it?" Vaul, in his ever-present impatience, was the first to demand.
"One simple question to you all: have you ever wondered why our dear wise and all-powerful King isn't lowering the barrier stopping us from righting the past? I mean, our yelling walking butchery is a good point, but we do have the option to take care of that little inconvenience… It's not a matter of wanting but of could." The Great Harlequin trailed off.
"Why has Asuryan not lifted the barrier? Or is it that he can't?" He finished with a chuckle that resonated in the Thrones Room as he melted into a shower of confetti. All were left to ponder upon his words.
*
My P@treon is up to chap 40 if you are interested.
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REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES
The_Bip_Boop2003
The_Bip_Boop2003
Hello, contact of human of the Paleolithic established and finally information on what the other Aeldari Gods are doing. And they aren't doing to well.
Bye-bye!
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