Gold. Pale gold, deep gold, thick and saturating gold. It flooded his vision, as smooth as oil, as coarse as grit, as soft as silk. Enkidu stared through the viewport, his pupils slightly out of focus as his thoughts drifted into the infinite.
This was the Webway.
A realm straddling the Materium and the ocean of the Aether, created by the Old Ones to usher the Aeldari Empire into its zenith. It was the treasure the Emperor had once dread of securing—and now, it was the very thing that had saved their warband's life.
Countless branching paths grew out from the golden road, like a towering tree existing simultaneously in the Warp and the real universe. He did not know where these branches led, just as he could not see the road ahead.
"You have been staring at these things for too long, my brother," Virsuto said, erging ghost-like from the shadows behind him. "Xenos creations easily steal one's sanity. I do not believe opening the warp-shutters here was a well-considered act."
"That is because only when I am alone here can I stop thinking about the passing of our brothers."
Enkidu glanced at him. He knew the Webway was far from risk-free. Since the fall of the Old Ones and the birth of Slaanesh, it had beco a dilapidated highway. In so places it was shattered, allowing the raw power of Chaos to flood in; in others, bizarre xenos resided. So sections were even sentient—hostile to any living thing that entered.
Yet only here, bathed in the light of the Old Ones' craft, could he cool his overheated mind and contemplate life, death, the future, and himself.
Once, he thought he was rely a diocre, kind-hearted mortal who feared blood, feared death, and feared having insufficient coin to survive. Now, he feared neither blood nor death, nor the prospect of having nothing. He feared only the fickle nature of a destiny that might sweep him away, or take the brothers he lived with day and night.
Despite their worship of the Dark Gods, this small, wandering warband was the first place in this universe that had accepted him.
"They have fulfilled their duty. The Dark Prince will reward them," Virsuto said. Compared to Enkidu's sentintality, he was undeniably cold. "Tomorrow, Varex will hold a ritual for them. It is for mourning, but also to nd the rifts that have ford. It is a major event; everyone must be present, Telax included. I trust you can be on ti?"
"I will be."
The footsteps receded. The golden radiance reclaid the entirety of the viewport. Enkidu took a deep breath, stole one last look at the ethereal brilliance outside, and slamd the warp-shutter shut.
The gold vanished. There were only the shadows cast by the ergency lights and the low hum of the engines. He walked down the corridor toward the hangar, passing countless mortals who bowed their heads as he went.
The shuttle to the Lash of Agony was ready.
Nine golden coffins were lined up neatly on a high platform, the scent of gore masked by jewels and spices.
Seven brothers had fallen in the heat of battle; two more had succumbed later to severe wounds and the lack of an Apothecary. Heavy incense burned in censers, trailing pale blue smoke that coiled around every Astartes in attendance.
Silence reigned in the hall. Even the most boisterous Noise Marines had stilled their instrunts to offer a quiet tribute to the dead. Even if they had been bitter enemies in life, now that the others had fallen in battle, respect had to be paid.
One head after another had been harvested and placed on either side of the caskets. So were human, so xenos—all belonging to opponents the deceased had cherished in life. Varex stood in the center, fastidiously inspecting the funeral offerings and the angles of placent, ensuring every trophy sat in "perfect" alignnt.
Enkidu stood at the line between the veterans and the initiates. Before him was the defiant Telax; behind him were the unarmored new bloods, twitching with unease. He moved his eyes silently, scanning every Astartes present.
In this gathered throng, Varex was the most ostentatious. To flaunt his status, he had erected a high dais for himself. He wore "master-crafted" plate, and the muscles of his face—riddled with hooks and spikes—twitched like a grotesque painting co to life.
He stood with one foot atop a shivering slave. Other thralls were piled around the platform, their faces ashen as they awaited their own execution.
Beyond the glittering stage, many more dwelled in the shadows. He saw so whose limbs were limp from chemical withdrawal, leaning on others just to remain upright. Others instinctively fingered their daggers, looking as if they wanted to slit a throat. He saw the back of Telax, standing like an immovable pillar, his gauntlets clenching and unclenching. Virsuto maintained his gentle, inscrutable smile.
A few hurried breaths ca from behind him, ruffling his hair, accompanied by a chorus of drum-like heartbeats.
Enkidu made a series of subtle gestures behind his back, signaling the new bloods to stay calm. The atmosphere was taut, but as long as anyone in the warband had a shred of sense, they wouldn't start a civil war in the middle of a funeral.
Varex cleared his throat and spread his arms. The undercurrents montarily stilled.
"Brothers!" He let out a loud, theatrical sob. A single tear rolled down a furrow in his face. "We gather here today not to mourn, but to celebrate! To celebrate seven—no, nine of our brothers who have achieved their ascension! Under the gaze of the Dark Prince, they—"
His voice stalled for a mont, clearly waiting for applause, but the audience gave him only silence.
"—I knew every one of them. Especially... er... never mind, that is not important. In short, I knew them better than anyone else here. What matters is that I gave them the opportunity! I allowed them to don the plate, I gave them the weapons to offer the grandest performance to the Dark Prince!"
"Varex," Telax said lowly. His tone vibrated with the effort of restraint. "Do the kindness of telling us: what were the nas of each of our fallen brothers? Or do you wish for them to rest without even their nas being spoken?"
The flamboyant oration snapped shut. Varex increased the pressure of his foot in annoyance until a series of crisp bone-cracks echoed through the hall. The slave beneath him let out a silent wail as blood leaked from his eyes and mouth.
"Of course I know them!" Varex shrieked in retort. "Every one of their nas is etched into my heart! But I did not wish to speak them in this sorrowful mont, for it would only deepen your grief!"
"Is that so?" Telax sneered, though he kept his volu low to respect the setting. "I believe that in a ritual, clearly reciting a brother's na and recounting the deeds of his life is the highest form of respect. Furthermore, dying to thwart the xenos was never sothing to be ashad of."
"Or have you forgotten them entirely, drowned in your own 'perfection'?"
"I HAVE NOT!"
The Warband Leader's voice was a near-shriek. The Chaos veteran t it with cold indifference. The two faced off like apex predators, requiring only a single spark to ignite.
Enkidu signaled again for the new bloods to back away. Then, his hand tightened around the hilt of his power sword.
The situation was spiraling toward the worst possible conclusion.
~~----------------------
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