The birth of a god was meant to be a momentous occasion, a call for celebration as the bundle of emotions and concepts drifting together in the warp fused into a new being. Isha could recall the day her daughter had been born - her eyes had opened so slowly, as if from a deep sleep, to reveal all the promise of the future to come once the war with the Necrons was over.
Promises that were now as nothing, as the Pantheon continued to watch the Eldar gestate their newest god. Lileath had said long ago that the Eldar would be the downfall of the gods, and it seemed at last that they were making good on that dreamt prophecy. Isha wished she still had the energy to still be angry, but she'd already spent it all on blaming Asuryan for not lowering the ban on speaking with the Eldar, Khaine on mandating the ban in the first place, Lileath for not thinking to come to her own mother or father first before uttering the words that had started all this, and herself for not speaking up when she'd seen the direction too many of her distant children were taking. All she had left was the grim determination that, even were it her time to die, at least it would be at the side of her husband and daughter.
"My my, I never thought I'd see the day!" Isha tensed even before the hands clasped on her shoulders, Cegorach's voice unmistakable as he leaned over her shoulder to chuckle right in her ear. "Little passive Isha, dressed up for war. I feel like I have just the joke for this situation, something about desperation and fools… ah, I suppose I'll remember it later."
"Cegorach," Kurnous warned, his spear turned away from the writhing mass of excess and madness to the trickster god. "Now is hardly the time for one of your convoluted jokes."
"But everyone's so down in the dumps," Cegorach said, his hands shifting as he shrugged his shoulders. "Just because we're all about to die in a horribly ironic and once preventable fashion doesn't mean we have to do it with a frown. Oh, I have a good one - how is a phoenix like an old light? Both can be rather dim!"
Isha sighed and shook her head while Cegorach cackled as his own unassailable wit, meeting Kurnous' similarly exasperated gaze. She offered a small smile, some of the weight in her chest lifting when he returned it.
"Uncle, please, just take this seriously for a few minutes," Lileath pled, fingers tight around her wraithbone staff.
"Ah ah, not until I hear a laugh. Where does Khaine store all his weapons? In his Vaul-t!"
Before Isha could chide Cegorach for making a joke out of Vaul's captivity, a blade came down far too close to her for her liking, startling Lileath and Kurnous back a step while Cegorach went silent.
"Be silent, clown, or I'll make you," Khaine said before walking past, the blood on his hands dripping down his weapon and off into the currents as he stationed himself closest to the place where the new god would emerge in the warp.
"What a dour fellow," Cegorach said quietly once he seemed certain Khaine was far enough away to not be an immediate threat. "Perhaps he should lay off the Khorne flakes?"
Isha shook the trickster god off of her, gaze shifting to where Morai-Heg and Asuryan were deep in discussion. Though she couldn't see his face behind his mask, the heavy frown on her face said enough of what they could be talking about.
A bit further past them, standing silently with his last weapon at hand and the manacles he'd been bound with still dangling from his wrists, Vaul looked… well, he looked about as good as Isha and Kurnous had before Vaul had gotten them away from Khaine. Which wasn't very. Isha considered whether he would accept her help, but… it had been so long, and she had done nothing to free him after he'd done so for her, the same way she'd done nothing about so many other injustices.
"It's almost time," Lileath whispered, Isha turning to see her daughter with her head bowed, eyes closed and mouth twisted into a grimace. "Mother, I never wanted any of this..."
"I know, my dearest, and no one blames you for this. Your siblings…" Isha hesitated, knowing the comforting smile she was trying to maintain was flagging even as she made herself continue. "They made their own choices, in the end, and we made ours. The weavers will see us through this."
"The weavers are dead," Lileath replied, almost too quiet to hear, and Isha found she had no answer.
Kurnous moved to stand next to their daughter, one hand resting against Lileath's cheek while he whispered the comfort Isha couldn't, and Isha found her forced smile softening into something a bit more heartfelt. If only they could be like this forever, just the three of them - the thought curled up in her chest, tight and burning, and for a moment she thought she was about to cry, only to reach up and feel dry cheeks. She frowned as the tension in her chest built, hands moving to clutch at the building phantom pain.
This feeling wasn't coming from her. This was-
"It's here."
The Warp buckled and screamed.
And Isha's universe was pain.
It was like someone had torn open her chest with both great haste and deliberate care, hands reaching in and plucking out her insides until she was nothing but a hollow simulacra of herself. She didn't even remember collapsing to her knees, just that one moment she had been fine and the next -
Agony.
She distantly heard someone screaming, though it took her too long to recognize it was her own voice. Which was sort of funny, because she felt like she couldn't breathe, throat choking on tears for each and every last one of the quadrillions who had died and were dying and were doomed to die without protection, each one of their names barely registering in her conscious before they were drawn into the voracious maw of the youngest god to fuel their rampage. Their voices whispered in her ears and dragged along her skin, lighting up already frayed nerves as they begged for survival and mercy they wouldn't get.
"Finally, a worthy fight for me."
She forced herself to look up, the youngest god a horrifically perfect fusion of all the other gods they'd consumed while she was unable to do anything in her agony, swinging Asuryan's own weapon with a careless ease against Khaine's bloody fury and holding their ground. The other gods' bodies were in various states of dismemberment, all their chests torn open literally where hers was still figurative, though Cegorach was noticeably missing. Had he died, or merely fled?
Another claw brushed against her cheek, and Isha startled as she realized the voices she'd been hearing weren't just those of the dying, but the already damned as well. The parodies of her children giggled and mockingly cooed as they surrounded her, taking turns wiping her tears away and consuming them with great relish, or dragging their bodies along the increasingly visible scraps of skin as they almost tenderly tore her armor and clothing away to get to her naked flesh.
One nibbled and bit at her throat, and she screamed again, throwing all of them away with warp vines while she tried to find the energy to get to her feet. The daemonettes were unphased, laughing with glee as they scrambled to their feet and ran around or into her lacking defenses. Those grabbed by the vines looked excited to be sloppily strangled, while the rest pouted as they clung more tightly to her, claws tangling in her clothing and hair and making it obvious that she was going nowhere until their master was done with fighting Khaine.
How was she not dead yet? She knew how pathetic she must look, unable to even fight off lesser daemons from her prone position. She wouldn't have even noticed while she was blinded by the pain of the youngest's birth and the death of her children, and at least she wouldn't have to continue living with all this pain that refused to fade into blissful numbness. Compared to all the rest, who at least looked like they'd tried to fight, she would have been a laughably easy meal.
But they were dead, and she wasn't, and somewhere in her grief she felt the slow, cold grip of terror take hold as she considered what other uses this new god could have for her.
"Oh mother," the daemonettes whispered in her ears, voices riding the high of power as all the eldar souls that had served as spark and fuel gave them unbridled confidence. "Please mother, give us more, give us everything."
The warp shifted, and Khaine and his opponent barely hesitated a moment in their ongoing battle as three more slowly arrived from their domains in the untraversed reaches of the Warp.
First came the dark mirror of Khaine, the taste of iron and blood and the clank of armor washing past her as the chaos god of war and his army came to watch the battle unfold. Several daemonettes pulled themselves away from her, throwing themselves almost eagerly onto the blades and moaning with delight as they were cut apart and dissolved into warp stuff to rejoin their master.
Then came the thousand whispering voices, a shifting mass that lowered itself to pick over the remains of Morai-Heg with interest. Eyes formed to stare at her and just as quickly shifted away, looking at all of them and none of them, and she almost felt relieved that it and its equally unconstrained minions seemed so disinterested in her continuing existence.
Last was the wave of rot, giggling rolling balls of unlife that squirmed into the area around her, striking back at the daemonettes that tried to swat them away. The vines withered in the presence of their master, the living infested carcass that made her want to gag as it stifled her and made the remaining daemonettes curl around her defensively.
"Pathetic," said Khorne, his voice the rumble of battlefields. "You call yourself a fighter?"
"I'm enjoying my game here," replied Slaanesh, throwing their hair back as they parried another strike from Khaine, letting the latter's blade barely scrape across their cheeks and leave a dripping wound, daemonettes eagerly catching the drops even as the wound healed into unblemished skin. "What does it matter how I prefer to spend my time before I eat him?"
"If you were competent," said Khorne, "you would not be losing to a defunct god."
Slaanesh paused, groaning in pleasure when Khaine took the opportunity to stab through their shoulder. "Ohh, is that a challenge? I would love to get to know your blades, every last one of them~."
"Your challenge is accepted," Khorne replied, stepping forward and drawing his own blade. "And your blood will decorate my domain."
"Ohh, I like you," Slaanesh said, smile stretching too wide for comfort. "Please, don't stop until you've taken every last drop~."
Khorne moved to strike, only to be stopped by Khaine's blade. The chaos god looked to the eldar god, who looked back with fury.
"This is my fight," Khaine interrupted. "I will not be-"
Khorne's hand smashed through Khaine's armor, cutting the reply short. Isha's last ember of hope died as Khaine's body was then flung to the side, shattering into a thousand and more pieces even as Khorne's bloody hand returned to rest against his blade.
"...I see," Slaanesh said after a few moments, licking their lips in sudden discomfort. "That's how it's going to be played, then. I don't suppose you'll let me have the first strike?"
Khorne's chuckle dragged through Isha's mind like fire as he stepped forward, his first swing meeting Slaanesh's blade and sending the young god flying backwards from the force, right past the now cackling Tzeentch.
"Having trouble there, young one?" Tzeentch called out as Khorne chased after, delighted as Slaanesh scrambled to their feet in a panic just in time to dodge another heavy strike. "Perhaps you'd like some advice?"
"I don't need help, I have this completely under- eep- control!"
Tzeentch cackled again. Nurgle, still behind her, rumbled with humor as his minions scrambled over her and made faces at the low-key terrified daemonettes still remaining.
Isha's head lowered from the weight and from knowing there was no escape - even if Slaanesh were able to somehow win their fight against the older chaos god, they wouldn't have the strength to fight the other two, or the sense to avoid picking a fight, and then…
"It'll be alright, mother, just you see," one of the daemonettes said with more cheer than was warranted, but that wasn't what gave Isha sudden pause, her despair shuddering as something else started broiling in the middle of her numbing chest. "Once this is over, we'll all be able to go home, you and us and our beautiful palace of pleasures to live in for ever and ever in bliss and joy!"
Isha looked to the daemonette who had spoken, the one who had used her daughter's voice, and saw it wearing her daughter's face.
"How dare you."
An ember ignited, burning away at the creeping despair and apathy overwhelming her before then. Nurgle stepped back twice, no longer laughing.
"How dare you!"
The daemonette fell back and stared at her, along with all the others holding onto her as she slowly, painfully forced herself to one knee, and then to her feet, and realized how small it was compared to her and her stoked fury. Tzeentch had stopped laughing as well.
"You have no right to her memory!"
The daemonette screamed as Isha's life swept up and surrounded it, still having the gall to wear Lileath's face and voice as if it belonged to it, as if it was funny to dangle everything she'd lost in front of her face.
"You have no right to her face or her name!" Isha snarled, snapping it apart and taking vindictive satisfaction as it was dissolved into nothing, unable to return to its master.
Isha's satisfaction was short lived, however, when she turned to see all four Chaos gods watching her, various degrees of surprise and annoyance in their expressions. She swallowed, wishing abruptly that she hadn't snapped like that, because now she was interesting, and with four gods who could easily make her as nothing with a single backhand, interesting was the worst position to be in.
"Strong words," Tzeentch said, all its eyes now on her. "But not much in terms of execution."
"Certainly not words for such a delicate bloom," Nurgle said. "Come now, forget that anger and stay with me in my house, so your weary heart might know the peace of my family."
"Heh, the first time she's done anything interesting in her life, and you want to stop her immediately," Khorne said, something almost like admiration in his voice. "Let her fight awhile. I want to see the blood she spills before she falls."
Isha was trapped between the three while the fourth watched on. She had nowhere to run, nothing to fight with, and so few followers that she might as well be a joke to them. All it seemed she'd managed to do is add a third interested party into the mix of those fighting over her fate, possibly a fourth if she managed to dig herself into even more trouble in the next few moments.
"Of course you do, you barbarian," Tzeentch mocked, one temporary arm waving the war god away. "What's next, you whisk her away to gorge her little plant armies on your rivers of blood?"
"If it makes her worthy, then I see no reason not to," Khorne agreed.
What could she do? She couldn't choose Slaanesh, not with what they represented and her terrifying imaginings of just what they were saving her for. She refused to give in to Nurgle, knowing she would never escape his garden of rot without outside aide. To trust Khorne was akin to trusting Khaine, especially since she did not know how such an allegiance would twist her in the long term. And Tzeentch… the mere idea of trust was impossible to him, aside from how to exploit it.
"She's mine, Khorne," Nurgle rumbled, all his good humor gone. "It was agreed long ago. And last I checked, treachery was not your domain."
"Last I checked, she was too much a pacifist to even think to fight back. Funny how things change."
"You all seem to be forgetting something," Slaanesh spoke up, gaze sliding over her in incredibly uncomfortable ways that would have her shaking if she weren't already trembling in anger. "She's Eldar, therefore she's mine."
To cling to life on her own in the warp, always one step ahead of the four… a short lived fantasy, doomed to soon fall into one of the fates she already knew awaited her. There was no safety in the warp, not anymore.
Isha stopped.
No safety in the Warp.
But there was another place, one which she knew the secrets of traversing and they did not. One which they would struggle to follow her to, at least for a while. All she had to do was find a place they couldn't touch her, and then rebuild her strength, until she reached the point where she could fight back.
"Stay out of this if you know what's good for you, youngling," Tzeentch said, continuing to watch all of them at once. "The adults are talking. We'll probably be a while, so go play with those shards of Khaine or something."
"I am your equal!" Slaanesh snapped, raising Asuryan's blade and snarling. "I have every right to defend my property!"
She stepped back once, then twice, making herself look small and meek and afraid, which wasn't hard when much of her still felt that way. A few minions of the four gave her looks before their gazes were drawn back to the increasingly snappish argument over her fate, Khorne looking close to ready to start throwing Slaanesh around the Warp again, and Nurgle set to either join him or oppose him.
Where could she go, though? She needed a place they and their followers of the warp and materium could not go without consequence. A place where her strength could be recovered unchallenged. Her thoughts drifted to her still surviving children, a mix of grief, fury, and disappointment swirling in her chest as she considered her options.
The exodites were far scattered and had little manpower. They were the most trustworthy, but the forces she would call upon herself… no, she would search them out only once she was sure she could protect them.
The craftworlds were still reeling, trying to figure out what to do in the aftermath of this, and their cultures and opinions were all separate enough that aligning with one would mean having to try and convince others to work with her, where she needed neutrality to rally them under.
The webway… even if it wasn't Cegorach's domain, the idea of going near those who had participated in creating Slaanesh and ensuring the deaths of an overwhelming number of their brothers and sisters, and were still continuing those practices nauseated her even more than the idea of staying in the warp and at the mercy of the Four.
She took another three steps back, shaky and fearful and absolutely in line with the pathetic little toy they all saw her as. So she couldn't go to her children. She ignored the small amount of relief she felt at not having to look them in the face so soon after their fall, not have to smile while wishing she could yell at them and weep over what they'd done to themselves. What was left, then?
...there was one option.
Three steps.
It could very well mean her end.
Two steps.
She wouldn't even blame Him, really, not after everything done to Him and His people by her own.
One step.
But anything He had to offer, whether refuge, imprisonment, or a clean death, was still vastly more merciful than what she could expect from Chaos.
And there.
She stopped, looking to the four one last time, feeling the warp around her writhe with their argument. Idly, she wished she could have grabbed her husband's spear or her daughter's staff, but they were at the feet of Slaanesh, and the Chaos god would not take kindly to her taking what they had already claimed as theirs.
In the end, she had no other choice.
She turned and ran like she never had in her life.
She heard the squawk of alarm behind her as someone noticed her flight, but she had no energy to waste on anything but pushing herself to her limits, instinct leading her along favorable currents and past snarly storms, all the while using her quickly dwindling essence to snare the armies of Chaos behind herself.
Isha could hear the shouts behind her, the four fighting each other as much as they were chasing her, which was the main thing keeping her ahead of their combined fury. It seemed they hadn't realized where she was running, or even they would have forgone their arguments to stop her, giving her a flutter of hope -
"Got you~"
Isha screamed as a keeper of secrets swept in front of her, pleased to have cut her off for its master, and instincts had her flinging more brambles in its direction. Unlike its lesser kin, it wasn't killed, but it was hindered, giving her a chance to sweep past it and count her seconds until she was in place, even as she felt the four close in around her, a noose that would damn her to oblivion -
And then she was out of time. She looked to the armies around her, their masters to a one with murder and worse promised in their gazes for the sheer gall of defying them. Despite her fear, a smile flickered across her lips, some comfort in knowing she had one last trick up her sleeve.
She took a breath.
Reached into herself, pulling on all her remaining reserves.
And shoved nearly all of it into creating a jungle of pain and death, her dim core essence obscured among everything else.
Knowing she had but a few moments, she immediately focused everything she has left on her task, because this was the point where she succeeded or she died, and either way she wouldn't need all this essence, so there was no sense in preserving it anymore. Thought became reality, strands of sugars and molecules and warp stuff weaving into complex chains and then into diversified structures, and within moments she was looking at her own face on a material body she hadn't worn since she was young and the gods were still allowed among their people.
The four were tearing her jungle apart, sensing her on the cusp of victory, and she poured what she had left into herself even as she calculated just where and how quickly to throw it to cover the remaining distance in both the warp and the materium. If anything went wrong, she'd still hopefully be in the right system, her very presence announcing itself loudly enough that He could hardly miss it. Though whether He'd be able to get to her before They did if she landed on the wrong world...
The odds were still better than anything here, so she breathed the last of herself into her new body and cast it out into the materium, momentarily seeing double as she both dispersed in the warp and woke up in mortal form for the first time in almost forever. The screams of the four followed her as she shot up into the shallows of the warp, the sudden shift in the very way she thought and felt distracting her even as the drag of atmosphere slow her down, bleeding both momentum and the vestiges of the warp off of her.
Her first full thought, and her last before impact, was that this was going to hurt.
…
…
...
Oh weavers, it hurt. Not the way it had before, but enough that moving was out of the question.
…
The air was so dry. Why was it dry? For some reason, she thought there should have been more water in it.
…
Had stars always been so bright? It had been so long…
…
She had to get up, had to make sure she was safe, but even digging her fingers into the grasses and ferns growing between them made her breathing shudder from the pain...
…
What was that noise? It sounded rather like footsteps…
…
...rest… yes, that sounded just… fine…
