The mont Eldrad and the mbers of the Ulthwé Seer Council psychically sensed Isha's presence, the full weight of their combined firepower converged upon the Lion's position.
Unperturbed, the Lion calmly issued his commands. He deployed Baneblade super-heavy tanks alongside hundreds of Dreadnoughts, so being Cybernetica automata masquerading as piloted sarcophagi, and Terminators to form an impregnable wall of iron and fire.
The Lion had established his command post upon a high-altitude fortress on Dulan. Though the bastion had been largely reduced to rubble by Imperial bombardnt, it remained a formidable vantage point for the Dark Angels and the Imperial Army to hold the line.
THOOM—THOOM—THOOM!
From the heights, the Imperial Army's heavy ordnance batteries unleashed a relentless curtain of fire. Great shells tore through the air, intercepting the lightning-fast Reaver jetbikes and Windriders of the Drukhari and Craftworlders as they shrieked toward the Imperial lines.
Eldar craft were as fragile as they were swift. Dozens of light jetbikes flipped violently into the dirt upon impact, detonating in spectacular blossoms of blue and white fla. Yet, the remaining xenos showed no fear. They pressed their assault through the carnage, their Splinter Cannons and Shuriken Cannons screaming in a chorus of suppressing fire.
"For Isha!!"
"Yo-ho! For the radiant face of Isha!"
The anti-gravitic skimrs roared up the rugged terrain like runaway trucks. The Dark Angels, who had been waiting with bolters and plasma guns leveled, drew their chainswords and power swords, their roars of "For Caliban!" shaking the very foundations of the fort.
The serrated blades mounted on the rear of the Reaver jetbikes were sharper than monomolecular razors. As they streaked through the Imperial lines, both mortal soldiers and Astartes were torn asunder. Their splinter and shuriken fire shredded ceramite and flesh alike.
But the Dark Angels threw themselves into the path of the xenos vehicles with suicidal resolve, using their own bodies to grind the alien montum to a halt. One battle-brother's power armor was shattered by a direct collision; spitting blood, he glared at the pilot with undiluted hatred, refusing to fall until he saw the bayonets of the Imperial Army and his fellow Astartes plunge into the fray.
Leaping from the saddles of the Reavers ca Wyches in minimal, specialized armor and somber Incubi. These warriors, whose physical prowess rivaled that of the Adeptus Astartes, beca blurs of motion as they engaged the giants in green.
The Wyches danced like lethal acrobats, lashing out with Agonisers and envenod blades. Beside them, the Incubi swung their Klaives with a level of martial discipline that ranked among the finest in the galaxy.
From the Windrider jetbikes, Howling Banshees and Striking Scorpions vaulted into the Imperial trenches. The mortal soldiers of the Army desperately leveled their bayoneted lasguns at these transhuman nightmares, only for the Aspect Warriors to ghost through their ranks. The Banshee blades sang a dirge of steel, carving through the defenders with rhythmic, terrifying grace.
"Suppress the fire zones! Buy ti for the rear!" A Striking Scorpion Exarch intercepted a Dark Angels Champion's strike with preternatural speed, their chainswords clashing in a spray of white-hot sparks. The Exarch showed no fear, delivering a punishing kick to the Champion's breastplate while shouting orders.
"SKREEEEEEE!" The Howling Banshees unleashed their psychically amplified war cries. The sonic shockwaves shattered the minds of the mortal soldiers; many dropped dead instantly, their brains turned to soup by the Warp-infused scream.
"The xenos are after the Father, block them!" a Dark Angels veteran, clad in a winged helm and flowing surcoat, roared to the Dreadnoughts and Terminators.
A phalanx of a hundred Dreadnoughts and hundreds more Terminators advanced with thunderous footfalls. They ford a wall of walking tanks, their twin-linked heavy bolters and storm bolters spitting a "tal Storm" that saturated the battlefield.
"We are the Emperor's Angels! Deliver His divine wrath!"
This deluge of munitions swept across the zone indiscriminately. Though it claid many Imperial lives in the crossfire, it effectively blunted the Eldar montum. Behind the screen of Kabalites and Guardians, Wraithknights and Talos Pain Engines began to descend the slopes, their towering silhouettes looming over the Imperial Dreadnoughts as they charged into the fray.
The Lion's brow furrowed. It wasn't the ferocity of the assault that troubled him, but its nature. This felt wrong. During the Great Crusade, the Imperium had encountered the Eldar many tis, but they were typically elusive, avoiding wars of attrition at all costs. Now, they were throwing themselves at his guns with a desperation that was beginning to overwhelm the Imperial Army.
What could drive these xenos to such madness? the Lion wondered. He didn't care to solve the riddle, but he noted the change. With a casual flick of the Lion Sword, he decapitated a cluster of Incubi and Scorpions who had dared to breach his inner circle.
Suddenly, two figures, seemingly unremarkable in stature but radiating lethal intent, appeared before him.
"Hah! Give a real show, Mon-keigh!" Lelith Hesperax, the Queen of Knives, lashed out with her Agoniser, the whip moving as if it possessed a predatory mind of its own. The Lion's eyes narrowed. He lunged with a counter-thrust so powerful and swift it forced a cold sweat from the Wych Queen. She barely evaded the strike, saved only by the intervention of a nearby Incubus.
"Xenos. Your na?" the Lion asked, his gaze lingering on the Incubus who had successfully parried his blow.
The Incubus remained silent, his Klaive a whirlwind of lethal precision as he unleashed strike after strike. Lelith, however, laughed. "That is Drazhar. Watch yourself, little King, he is the greatest executioner in the stars!"
"I shall rember it. I will carve it into your skull before I am done," the Lion replied dismissively. The Lion Sword t Drazhar's blades with terrifying force and speed, relegating even the legendary Lelith to a supporting role in the titanic duel.
But this was rely a distraction. Eldrad and the other Farseers had reached the periter. Shielded by a dozen Wraithknights and Titans, they began to channel their psychic might to awaken Isha's slumbering consciousness.
"I... I have touched it, it is truly the power of Isha!" Eldrad whispered, his eyes snapping open in a trance of ecstatic revelation.
His words sent a surge of fervor through the Eldar ranks. For a mont, the brutality of the surrounding battlefield seed trivial to them.
"How much longer do you need?" Yvraine demanded.
"At least two hours... perhaps more," Eldrad replied.
Yvraine nodded coldly, her eyes fixed on the Lion. It was clear that Lelith and Drazhar were not the Primarch's match; while they didn't need to kill him, they had to drive him back. With a surge of necrotic power, Yvraine summoned the Yncarne, the Avatar of Ynnead. Simultaneously, the Avatar of Khaine, manifested from the largest shard of the Bloody-Handed God, roared into existence beside it.
The two god-fragnts strode forward, their re footsteps crushing the Imperial defenders into the red earth.
Finally, the Lion's cold composure broke into genuine fury.
"Bring up the Titans!" the Lion bellowed. With a savage backhand strike, he forced Lelith and Drazhar to retreat before sprinting headlong toward the Yncarne, his war-cry echoing across the ruins.
Far above the carnage, the Space Wolves, having departed only days prior, intercepted the vox traffic. Leman Russ, the Wolf King, let out a booming laugh that filled the bridge of his flagship.
"I knew that secretive bastard couldn't handle it alone! My sons, let us show those 'First Legion' princelings the true aning of the Canix Helix! To the surface!"
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