Enkindled Sentiments
"There is a grave misconception in our universe about whether or not humanity can now coexist with another species. Either we end this notion, or we will eventually be left only with silence as our answer." - Magnus the Red, Personal Musings.
Irisian Forests, Prospero.
Sometime after the Siege.
Vulkan didn't know why he was here, specifically in these Irisian Forests, but his feet guided him down a path that led him away from Tizca. The once-verdant surroundings now blanketed with ash and battle scarring, seemed to mirror the turmoil within his mind. Perhaps he sought to find himself in the heart of nature. Maybe to find some solace from the weight of recent revelations.
Alas, the trauma of the most recent invasion was still quite fresh in this place. Even so, the further he ventured into this place, Vulkan's mind was at ease, even as he realized he was truly in the middle of nowhere but also far removed from the concerns of the galaxy, at least for the moment.
But not even in this desolate and quiet place could he escape the thoughts that plagued him. A part of Vulkan yearned for the bliss of ignorance. Yet how could he, in good conscience, afford such a luxury? He has gotten wiser these last few decades but also troubled within his soul. The pursuit of wisdom often came at the cost of growing jaded, and he had willingly embraced that path.
The price he paid for his commitment to championing the common people had exposed him to the harsh realities of the Imperium, testing his resolve repeatedly. Yet, despite the trials, he persisted in this most righteous and sacred duty. He refused to give in to whatever despair had rooted in his heart. It was growing, though, and this terrified him to no end.
His hopes remained, as always, in the better virtues of people. But situations like the one that occurred on Prospero cast a grim light on his otherwise ever-burning positivity. Rare was it for Vulkan to feel this way about one of his brothers, especially Magnus. Their relationship had seen its share of highs and lows, but at its core, Vulkan believed in Magnus's dedication to the betterment of humanity. He had witnessed the prosperity and progress of Prospero, a society that, despite its flaws, thrived in areas where much of the Imperium faltered.
The people of Prospero were a source of pride for Magnus, a testament to the shared vision of this world and its master. They cherished their way of life and were willing to defend it with conviction, even at great personal cost. Vulkan believed that the defenders and the citizens of this world would have risen to the occasion with the same fervor and dedication, regardless of who their guests were or the enemy they faced.
When Vulkan conversed with Amon, the father of Magnus, he found no remorse in the old psyker's demeanor, nor did he encounter any regret among the people of Prospero for their actions. To them, the defense of their guests was inseparable from protecting their homeworld from any other invader. To do otherwise was to go against what they stood for.
Defending the Eldar was more than just observing guest rights for the Prosperoians. To them, safeguarding their way of life held equal importance as preserving the wealth of knowledge stored within their libraries; it was a profound expression of their deeply ingrained values. Allowing invaders to trample upon their lands and kill indiscriminately would be akin to consigning their cherished knowledge to the flames. What value had knowledge if it did not serve to elevate the human spirit and guide it toward enlightenment? What good was wisdom if it came at the cost of sacrificing dignity and decency in the process?
Ahriman and the other captains and magisters of the Thousand Sons shared this sentiment, holding steadfast to their commitment to protecting the Eldar as their honored guests. They offered little information about their guests or whereabouts, deferring to the Primarch's commands and the pretense of legal self-defense. Vulkan found himself hard-pressed to argue against their stance, though he wondered what they hid from him.
Still, this left the Drake Lord to wonder about the aftershock of this event or who even gave the order to carry it out. The Sisters of Silence remained tight-lipped, and the captured Black Brigaders, considered prisoners of war, divulged nothing about their involvement. No incriminating evidence was discovered among the bodies of the Black Brigaders, as their commanders had perished alongside their soldiers, taking their secrets to the grave.
The Prosperoians and the Thousand Sons were left to pick up the pieces and rebuild the damage inflicted during the invasion. To the surprise of everyone, including Vulkan, the Black Brigades had kept civilian casualties relatively low. Despite their reputation as skilled killers, they focused primarily on the Astartes and Spireguard. An unusual aspect considering the absence of weapons specifically designed to combat Astartes, except for their depleted uranium weaponry. Consequently, losing only 20 of Magnus's sons was a fortunate outcome.
However, the Black Brigades had arrived with ample artillery, tanks, and armored vehicles, resulting in a short but brutal siege. Eliminating the remaining pockets of Black Brigaders within the charred remnants of the once-teeming forest was equally challenging. Vulkan and his sons wielded the power of fire with conviction, but each time they unleashed it upon lands teeming with life, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were taking something precious that could never be replaced. With its cruelty and destruction, war sometimes necessitated great sacrifices to keep the darkness at bay and save lives needing protection.
Thankfully, the defenders had managed to limit the extent of the destruction, and Vulkan, drawing from his experience, knew that nature possessed a remarkable capacity to rebound, particularly following what he considered "mundane" conflicts like the one waged here. Life had a way of returning, much as humanity had demonstrated countless times before. The Drake Lord harbored a deep belief in the resilience of the human species. Where there was a will, there would always be a way forward.
Hence, he believed the reforms were possible, or the Imperium could overcome whatever miasma had overtaken it. Nothing had been set in stone just yet. Tomorrow was still in all their hands. That had to mean
something.
As Vulkan continued through the charred remnants of the forest, he detected an unusual sound in the air. "Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!" The sound resembled a voice but more akin to something mimicking a human. He looked up and spotted a blackbird descending gracefully toward the ground. The bird landed on a nearby rock, perching high enough to meet Vulkan's gaze.
Vulkan couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at the sight of this creature in the desolate landscape. "Hello, my flying feathered friend!" Interactions with animals were among the few pleasures the Drake Lord cherished, even when dealing with less amiable creatures. "You are a welcome sight in this place."
The creature tilted its head briefly and responded with an unusual yet friendly bleating, "Friend! Friend! Friend!"
"Excellent!" Vulkan couldn't contain his smirk. "An intelligent and friendly creature, indeed. You remind me of my brother, Corvus. His legion bears your kind's likeness in their heraldry." With that, the Primarch produced a few morsels of dried fruit and extended his open palm toward the bird. The creature needed little encouragement to begin voraciously pecking at the offered bounty.
Vulkan couldn't help but reflect on the simplicity of animals and children. They were often the most straightforward to impress or amuse. The Primarch had learned that even the smallest act of kindness could elevate one to the status of a hero in their eyes, or at the very least, someone they could turn to for protection and assistance. In their innocence, children and animals possessed a purity that was too often overlooked in the relentless march of progress and industry. Tragically, they were often the first casualties in the wake of wars and grand machinations driven by the merciless forces of advancement. It was a heartbreaking truth that few cared to acknowledge, and fewer still took action to rectify.
Vulkan couldn't escape the feeling that he was one of the few who cared deeply in these troubling times. However, he also knew that this thinking was far from accurate. Plenty of individuals cared just as deeply, if not more so, about the plight of others. The difference lies in their ability to take meaningful action. Many were constrained by circumstances beyond their control, rendering them unable to make a significant impact. It was a burden that Vulkan, as a Primarch, keenly felt – the responsibility to make a
meaningful difference when others could not.
Just as he contemplated this unfortunate reality, a new voice echoed close by, "Araloth? Have you spotted something?" It was a young woman's voice, speaking in accented gothic. "Oh!" This new arrival must have spotted him. Most people tended to have that reaction to seeing Vulkan.
Yet he wasn't ready to see that the woman approaching was clearly of the Eldar species. How could Vulkan forget their race's unnatural grace, wiry forms, twisted, macabre grins, and nightmarish armor? For a brief moment, memories of Noctrune and the Dusk Wraiths' raids on his people filled him with disgust and anger.
However, Vulkan saw only a young, slender woman adorned in a white dress and armor covered with dust and dirt and long black hair tied in the back. She was carrying a pack similar to the type found on the Spireguard and wearing boots with an Aeldari sword and pistol holster at her side.
The Eldar woman gave him a friendly smile, "Hello, Mr. Astartes. Don't be startled now. I'm just here to collect my friend." She pointed to the bird, Araloth, who was cawing at her.
Again, it seemed to screech in a more childish tone, "Friend! Friend! Friend!"
Completely unafraid, she was so close to Vulkan that he could have reached out and grabbed her, but instead, this woman focused completely on the bird, "I'm sure he is, Araloth. But he's not here to help us with our task."
Araloth's feathers seemed to bunch up before the bird took flight again, perhaps annoyed or finished with the conversation. Vulkan, who still hadn't said anything, merely looked on as the Eldar before he sighed and shook her head, reminding him a bit too much of a mother looking after rambunctious children. Turning back to Vulkan, the Primarch could now see a stunning pair of midnight-black eyes staring back at him. "I apologize if we got in your way of whatever mission you are on."
After a moment, Vulkan finally found his voice, "...No. It's fine." He crossed his arms, unsure of what to do now. Technically, he could just allow this Eldar to leave. Vulkan had no desire to spill blood, even if she wasn't protected by the Prosperoians. Even if there was a burning
need to do so.
But rather than leave, the young woman stared and then narrowed her eyes, "Pardon me…but are you the Primarch Vulkan?" The Drake Lord was surprised at her figuring him out. Most humans couldn't even identify him. He certainly didn't like the feeling that the Eldar could.
Yet then she smiled and giggled, "You are! You're wearing the same thing I saw in a picture with Magnus, where you both had those silly headdresses on!" That comment actually stunned Vulkan because he knew exactly what photo she was referencing.
During the earliest periods of the Great Crusade, the Salamanders and Thousand Sons briefly collaborated in a joint effort to liberate the world of Akicita from an Ork invasion force. This unique alliance is remembered as one of the rare instances when both legions worked together. In gratitude for their heroic actions, Magnus the Red and Vulkan were honored by the Lords of the Plains and bestowed with the title of honorary chieftains.
While this gesture was meant to be an honorable reward for the two Primarchs, the Akicitians, for all their honor and ferocity, didn't have the best fashion sense. The ceremonial headdresses given to the two were outrageously small and comically ill-fitting, and they didn't sit comfortably on their Primarch-sized heads. Vulkan, always one to find humor in even the most awkward situations, had a hearty laugh over the absurdity of it all. On the other hand, Magnus felt a deep sense of embarrassment and worried that once his brothers learned about this, it would result in endless teasing.
So, when a single photo was taken to commemorate the event, Vulkan gave it to Magnus as a lighthearted memento. But he assumed that Magnus had destroyed the image long ago. The fact that Magnus not only kept it but also showed it to this stranger, this Eldar woman, before anyone else, was a surprising revelation to Vulkan.
Vulkan was momentarily taken aback, surprised that Magnus had kept the photo all these years and had now shown it to a stranger, an Eldar woman of all people. He didn't know how to react, but he regained his composure. After a moment of silence, Vulkan finally spoke, "You have me at a disadvantage, Miss…?"
The stranger blushed, "Oh, my apologies for that reaction. Where are my manners? My name is Morianne Lyfae. A farseer of Craftworld Ulthwé." She then curtsied with the dirty but still immaculate white dress before the Drake Lord. It was so…earnest that Vulkan was having trouble not focusing on her more alien features.
Whatever disdain Vulkan felt seemed to have simmered down after being reminded of better times by this girl. She reminded him of the countless young souls he had encountered in his long life, often amid battle and hardship. It was a bitter reminder of the many lives affected by the galaxy's conflicts. Strange was it to imagine encountering a "young" Eldar.
"Anyway, I apologize again if we, that being Araloth and I, are taking up your time." She bowed once before preparing to move away, "Perhaps if Magnus arrives in time, we can have a full conversation. Otherwise, it was nice meeting you."
And just like that, this Morianne Lyfae was ready to leave again. Vulkan could see that she must have been traversing this battlefield for quite some time, judging by the state of her clothes and gear. What exactly was she doing here?"
"Are you in so much of a hurry?" Vulkan didn't know why he cared enough to ask outside of curiosity.
Morianne nodded, "I'm looking for something out here. Time might not be on our side."
"Our side?"
She pointed up toward Araloth, which only confused the Drake Lord. She must have noticed his confusion, "We are looking for a nest of Setesian eggs. The flock that lived in these woods had to escape during the invasion, but a group of eggs belonging to a pair of Blood Ravens wasn't moved in time. Araloth and I are going to retrieve them."
Vulkan had learned just enough about the Eldar to know that a group that called themselves Farseers was regarded as akin to a leadership caste among their kind and controlled vast psychic strength. He expected they'd be adorned in otherworldly armor and wielding eldritch power for ominous endeavors. Wildlife conservation wasn't something he imagined them doing. In an age where many humans had lost touch with nature and its preservation, the idea of an Eldar and her avian companion dedicating themselves to such a noble cause was unexpected and, much as he hated to admit it, admirable.
Still, this was an odd encounter and situation, "Couldn't you have asked your hosts for aid?"
Morianne shook her head, "Didn't want to impose on Amon or the others. Especially in light of everything." So Amon was aware of this girl as well. "Plenty of wounded and the dead have to be collected."
"And you thought this to be a good use of your time?" Vulkan wasn't sure why he cared enough to ask questions, "What about your people?"
"They're safe." Morianne smiled, "Besides, I wanted to be here when Magnus returned. I don't want him to think we've abandoned him." She started walking away now. Vulkan could have ended the conversation, but something spurred him forward.
"But are you safe? Walking around in this place? There are likely unexploded munitions everywhere."
"And landmines." She turned around, "These forests
are dangerous now, as you can imagine, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve, and Araloth is overhead watching. So we'll be fine. This also isn't my first battlefield."
He could have left the conversation at that. Vulkan had no reason or motivation to help her further. As far as he was concerned, she seemed confident and capable. This wasn't anything worth getting involved in. Especially since the Drake Lord refused to spend more time with an Eldar.
"Then allow me to help," Vulkan uttered after a moment, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if some sort of witchcraft was involved. Considering his resistance to mind control or influences, he seriously doubted it. So he didn't understand why he even offered or felt compelled.
Morianne gave him another smile but shook her head, "That is sweet of you to offer, Lord Vulkan, but I can imagine you have more important things to do." Once again, he had the opportunity to politely back out.
"I must insist." With warmth, Vulkan remarked, "Otherwise, I have to explain to Magnus why I left one of his guests by her lonesome on a potentially dangerous battlefield."
The young farseer looked annoyed momentarily, which made Vulkan think he might have said something before she
pouted. "Even Magnus isn't here; he still wants me to have some sort of guard even on his homeworld." She muttered something in Aeldari, which sounded like a wind chime, "He certainly loves playing the part of a big brother."
Somehow, that line filled Vulkan with
relief. This woman wasn't some sort of Aeldari lover or anything. If the Drake Lord learned of that, he would have many more pointed questions to his brother. Granted, hearing Morianne describe Magnus as "Big Brother" was equally concerning, especially when it caused Vulkan amusement.
Still, he took this seriously enough, "You probably shouldn't say such things aloud. Others would misinterpret it."
"Of course they would, but you are his brother. So why hide it?" Morianne looked amused, "Family tends to tell embarrassing things to each other anyway. My point with mentioning that photo of you two." For some reason, that comment didn't generate as much ire in Vulkan's soul as it should have. This woman wasn't family, but Magnus seemingly considered her as one.
"Regardless, my intention remains." Vulkan announced again, "Besides, you'll always get more done with another pair of eyes and hands. Especially if you are on a time limit as you believe."
Morianne briefly pondered this before sighing, "I can't argue with that reasoning. I've been out here for two days and nights already. My visions are pushing me in the right direction, but there are still blind spots here and there." This was an interesting piece of information regarding the limits on Eldar divination. It's not infallible.
At least she didn't seem to mind him volunteering as an impromptu guardian. If nothing else, Vulkan had an opportunity to understand better the type of individual the Eldar made use of or that Magnus was associating himself with. It didn't really click with Vulkan until a few minutes after they both started walking together that today had gone in a radically different direction than he had anticipated.
The Imperium's records on the Eldar were a mixed bag, ranging from the somewhat detailed to the more enigmatic. However, there was a general consensus that the Eldar were a species with a profoundly different way of thinking, often marked by a predisposition toward arrogance and a dismissive attitude toward the concerns of lesser creatures. These traits were only accentuated by their uncanny dexterity, remarkable intellect, and formidable psychic abilities, allowing them to achieve feats that even an Astartes could only hope to match.
Vulkan had a wealth of knowledge about the Eldar, gained through his extensive experience in battles against them. He believed he understood their ways and mindset well enough, at least until this very moment, as Vulkan observed Morianne Lyfae gently applying a healing salve to a wounded stag with blue fur and green antlers; he couldn't help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him.
Vulkan had always been known for his jovial and friendly nature, but he doubted even he could have calmed a wounded animal with such ease. It seemed almost magical as if Morianne were employing some form of psychic suggestion to soothe the creature's distress. That was the only excuse he could come up with while watching this.
Still, Vulkan marveled at her dedication, "I'm starting to think that this whole journey of yours is taking this long because you are spending time helping all these creatures."
"Well…yes." Morianne admitted after seeing the stag off, "Most of the creatures still around here were either wounded or unable to leave. Any that I've come across, I've been helping them on their way out. That and a few other little tasks have gotten my attention."
"Such as?"
Morianne merely smiled, "I'll show you when we inevitably come across it. But for now, we continue forward."
Morianne had already provided Vulkan with a detailed explanation of what they were searching for: a set of boulders arranged in an "octagon" near a cluster of ancient trees. Supposedly, this was the location of the nest they sought, but given the devastation that had befallen the landscape, identifying such a landmark proved challenging if it still existed.
Together, they navigated through the remnants of several destroyed encampments over half a day. Morianne's guidance had been invaluable, steering them clear of any landmines or traps the Black Brigades might have left behind. While the war-torn environment was grim, Vulkan had experienced far worse battlefields in his time. The presence of wrecked vehicles, husks of machines, and the occasional discarded body was a common enough sight.
The corpses of the fallen Black Brigaders were left untouched. Amon had instructed Morianne not to disturb their bodies, as some could be rigged with traps. It was deemed best to leave such tasks to the Spireguard and Tech-Priests equipped to handle them. Morianne's role was to mark the fallen soldiers' locations and ensure no scavenging animals disturbed their remains. She fulfilled her duty with a minimalistic approach, not lingering longer than necessary.
"Animals must also eat, especially if they want to escape here. So I don't mind if a few carnivores were munching on a leg or arm. Because you'll have to forgive me if I don't hold these particular Imperials in the highest regard." Vulkan wasn't about to admonish her for it. He and Konrad had made many vocal complaints about the Black Brigades. He just didn't want to hear himself agreeing with her.
Vulkan knew he needed to keep his focus on Morianne at all times. Her movements were eerie, exhibiting the grace of a seasoned dancer combined with the predatory agility of a coiled Smoke Cobra, poised and perhaps even eager to strike at any moment. Her innate, potent psychic abilities allowed her to traverse a battlefield without fear of stepping onto something perilous.
There was no denying her danger. Perhaps not to himself directly, but it served as a stark reminder that the Eldar were an inherently militant species capable of executing precision strikes with inhuman efficiency. Vulkan repeated this to himself like a mantra, for it was challenging to reconcile the image of this young woman with the perilous threat the Eldar posed to humanity.
His concerns were only amplified by an incident a few hours into their unplanned journey. After moving through what appeared to be a hastily evacuated Black Brigade camp, they stumbled upon a familiar sight, at least to Vulkan. Outside the base, they encountered a large pit filled with empty artillery shells, ammunition boxes, fuel canisters, and what appeared to be machine components. Clearly, this haphazard arrangement was not the work of the Mechanicum.
Morianne sighed, "Another one of these pits."
"They are refuse dumps." Vulkan explained, "No doubt the Black Brigades didn't have time to organize their trash properly. Then again, the Imperial Army doesn't have the time and energy to do such a thing during their battles."
Various work regiments or civil units often handled post-compliance clean-ups. It wasn't uncommon for many troopers to be assigned duties of moving junk or gear just into another pit or warehouse. It was disappointing to realize that so much time and effort was often used to move things from point A to point B and sometimes never even accomplished that goal.
"All of this waste will hinder the recovery of the forests." Before the pit's edge, she remarked, "The chemicals and micro-materials will eventually seep into the ground, or it will fill up with rainwater, which the animals and plants inevitably drink from."
Vulkan nodded, "Best to notify the Spireguard of this location later. Not much else you can do. Certainly can't burn it all away."
"Perish the thought," Morianne waved off the obviously bad idea, "And they will be notified, but it will take at least a year or two to clean up everything. So, in the meanwhile, I'll just put everything in this pit in stasis."
Before he could ask what that directly entailed, Vulkan watched something otherworldly take place as the forest's shadows seemed to almost come alive and then swiftly converge upon Morianne. The young farseer seemed surrounded by black tendrils and orbs that reminded the Primarch of the midnight sky on Nocturne during one of the few moments when one could gaze upon it. The scene was fascinating and unsettling, causing Vulkan to unconsciously grip his hammers.
The darkness then cascaded from Morianne like water into the pit, swiftly filling it to the brim and turning the contents into an abyssal pool of inky blackness. Strangely enough, Vulkan was sure he did, in fact, see stars for a brief moment before the liquid dark solidified in an instant, taking on a glassy or crystalline appearance. Vulkan had never seen or heard of any psyker, human or Eldar, using such a strange warp ability.
Morianne seemed satisfied with the results. "There, nothing will escape this. By the time anyone finds it, they'll be able to break it apart and safely retrieve everything."
Vulkan approached and kneeled before gently tapping the blackened surface with his hammers. "A strange power this is," he mused, noting its resemblance to volcanic obsidian. "Never have I seen such a thing."
"It's called Midnight Energy," Morianne explained. "Granted, that's all I can say."
Vulkan nodded, showing understanding. "A worthy secret to keep." Such power was likely important to her.
Yet Morianne blushed with embarrassment. "Well, no. That's all I really know about it. I can summon, use, and manipulate it, but it's more like a feeling than anything. Magnus does suspect that it is a type of warp energy that uses the light spectrum, or in this case, the absence of it."
Vulkan found her candor unusual and couldn't help but ask, "Is it wise to be telling this to a complete stranger?"
"You're Magnus's brother," Morianne replied with a hint of trust in her voice as if that were all the justification needed. "He trusts you with keeping his secrets, just as he trusts me with keeping mine. I tell him everything because I greatly admire and respect his abilities and knowledge. So if you want to ask him more about what I can do, feel free to do so."
If there was a part of Vulkan that wanted to argue or admonish her, he found it would be a rather hollow one. Still, this added to the surrealism. An honest Eldar? If Morianne was trying to lie to the Primarch, then she succeeded because Vulkan couldn't spot the lie otherwise. Konrad had taught him enough to spot when someone was trying to butter him up or outright lie to him. But Morianne wasn't doing any of that. Her honesty and forthrightness were alarming but made him more curious about her.
"Well, I'd still recommend not telling people that."
Morianne merely laughed, "Don't worry, I know enough intrigue not to do or say something that could get me in trouble with my enemies." She didn't consider him an enemy? Bold of her to assume such a thing. Bold or her simply being quite naive. Another trait one doesn't associate with the Eldar. Far too trusting as well.
An honest, trusting, and naive farseer. Vulkan might as well have found a pacifist Ork. That they were companions on a mission to save some eggs might as well have made this a fever dream in his mind.
Vulkan did not like how things were going. He did not like Morianne spending time talking about this forest, about all the creatures and plants that once lived in it, or how to cook a tasty dish using the natural growing herbs and fruits, or some story about how Magnus, his bookish brother, found something to enjoy while out in nature.
He didn't like how it was difficult to not keep his complete focus on her if she planned to do something suspicious or if her words had a more enigmatic meaning or warning to them, or if Morianne was, in fact, lying about one thing or another.
Above all else, he didn't like how simple and painless it was to start enjoying her presence and forgetting that she was still the enemy. But the enemy to whom? Magnus trusted her, or so she claimed, and the Prosparians and Thousand Sons did, so the people at risk didn't feel that way about the Eldar. At a macro level, the Eldar were a threat to humanity based on wanting to someday return to some level of power and prominence in the galaxy.
Yet the Eldar wasn't threatening to tear apart the Imperium or keep most of it in chains, and the Primarch seriously doubted the young woman before him had any ill designs to it. But that didn't stop Vulkan from doing what was necessary when needed. The intentions of any individual Eldar didn't matter.
But it was hard to repeat this mantra in his head. It was losing meaning. Any lingering anger or suspicion was waning. Vulkan did not want this. Otherwise, it would question whether his prior assumptions or actions still had merit.
The day was drawing close, and Vulkan had been out longer than he initially intended. What started as a spontaneous excursion onto a battlefield had turned into an all-day journey. Although unspoken, the two set up a makeshift camp, which amounted to little more than stopping beside a wrecked Chimera to spend the night.
Rest wasn't a necessity for Vulkan, but he welcomed the opportunity to collect his thoughts. Morianne, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease in the outdoors, demonstrating a familiarity with nature that impressed him. He observed her use pyromancy to start a fire, and she began preparing a meal with strips of meat, nuts, and dried fruits in a makeshift pot. Araloth, meanwhile, would occasionally return with more morsels for whatever concoction.
Vulkan couldn't help but comment, "You're quite resourceful and capable. I would have thought Eldar wouldn't bother with foraging and cooking their own food outside of a kitchen." It was a subtle dig at her species, though he acknowledged that most humans wouldn't fare well in a survival situation either.
"Well, if I'm being honest, I'm not actually from a Craftworld." While throwing a few herbs and spices into the pot, she remarked, "I was born on a planet called Hartaure. I am an Exodite, although most other Aeldari don't know this."
Vulkan found this revelation intriguing. "Is that something you had to withhold? Why the secrecy?"
"Exodites have a complicated relationship with our kin." Morianne pulled out what looked to be an Eldar eating utensil. "We live in relative isolation. Have been even before the collapse of the Dominion, or what some call the Old Empire. The Asuryani, the Craftworlders, think we should be fighting alongside them. The Drukhari, what some of your people call the Dark Eldar, think us simple folk. They care enough to come to our aid, but from what I've been told, plenty of Exodites politely but firmly tell them to leave once battle has ended."
Vulkan found this insight fascinating. Morianne's words seemed to confirm that the Eldar were far from a unified faction. "And you have no qualms in telling me any of this?"
She shook her, "If you were to ask any member of the Aeldari, they would tell you the same thing. Well, if you could coax them into giving an answer. It's not like we aren't capable of lying."
"Then why should I believe your words at all?" Vulkan thought that challenge was warranted after she said, "Why should I believe
anything you have said this entire time?"
Morianne appeared slightly exasperated as she responded, "Because I'm not lying? I'd have thought we had moved past this part by now."
"What part is that?" Vulkan questioned, his gaze unwavering. "You've spun an intriguing tale, of that I will admit, but I know the Eldar are a crafty and cunning species, especially their Farseers if the rumors are true."
Morianne didn't seem offended by his skepticism. Instead, she retorted, "What do you know of the Aeldari besides killing them? What answers have their corpses ever given you about the Aeldari?"
Vulkan's expression hardened as he replied, "Only a reaffirmation of what their victims have ever told us. They were slavers and reavers who delighted in torturing people and creating discord across our worlds."
"The Drukhari is most certainly that," Morianne agreed, "But you cannot be so unreasonable as to believe that the Asuryani or an Exodite are the types that would also reave and pillage."
"Perhaps, but the Eldar have used pirates, reavers, and all sorts of recidivists to further their goals at the cost of others." Vulkan expected denial from Morianne. Instead, he got a rather stunning response.
"That is why mercenaries make for useful pawns." She admitted while stirring the contents of the pot, "Professional killers at least have a code to follow. Otherwise, I've found that they don't like being called unreliable by breaking contracts."
"Speaking from experience?" It was difficult to imagine a young woman like her using mercenaries.
"Something like that." Morianne tasted whatever she was cooking, "But I suppose you might be a bit right. Although, the Great Seer has since declared an ending to using pirates, slavers, and other such entities."
Just what even was this conversation now? Also, she mentioned someone known as the Great Seer. "So you admit that the Eldar attacked human worlds via proxies?"
"Dark Eldar, perhaps. I know your homeworld was attacked by a Kabal that was destroyed quite some time ago. But the Asuryani use agents and spies; they don't send warriors for overt endeavors. Besides, any world that encountered a dedicated military response from the Asuryani would not have survived for long."
Vulkan felt like he didn't know how to extrapolate this information, "How exactly do you think I should react to all of this? You are admitting that the Eldar engage, if not in abject slaughter, than subterfuge and skullduggery."
Morianne looked confused, "Why does that surprise you, though? Would you have wanted me to explain that no Aeldari has ever done such a thing?" She shook her head before Vulkan saw a look of sadness and fury, "I lost my parents, my home, my
entire world to my own kind, loath as I am to call the Ulwarth as sharing a common lineage with our collective species."
The Imperium suspected a potential for infighting among the Aeldari, and Morianne seemed to confirm as much. Vulkan didn't know what made the Ulwarth so loathsome to even someone like her, but the mention that they seemingly killed an entire world full of Exodites said more than enough.
She started pouring what appeared to be a stew into a wooden bowl, "Just as humans kill humans, Aeldari kill Aeldari. It is mostly for awful and horrible reasons or to defend their homes and livelihoods. Other times, it's the complete opposite. Magnus called it the "absurdity of life," but these days, I think the fates are just supremely cruel in their irony."
Holding the bowl up for Vulkan, the Drake Lord almost hesitated before slowly taking it, "But the strangest thing is that I have friends that are human, Astartes and Aeldari. I've made deals with good
and awful people. Still, I ended up meeting someone like Magnus."
Araloth's enthusiastic cawing added a touch of lightheartedness to the conversation. Morianne continued, her voice carrying a note of warmth, "Yes, yes. I got to meet you as well, Araloth." She placed some berries for the bird to enjoy. "Magnus took a chance to learn more about the Aeldari. In a way, I'm my people's ambassador to him, but the same could also be said of him to me. We are both outsiders to our respective people."
Hearing that caused Vulkan to feel shame and second-hand embarrassment for most of his brothers. Magnus
was what Malcador called the "Black Sheep of the family." Which was an ancient turn of phrase to describe someone as being "problematic" but not a "problem" like Angron, unfortunately, was now.
The only true friend that Magnus had among their brothers was Khan. It's not a good look for many of them. Magnus only trusted a few people, including this Morianne, it seemed.
"Though I suppose we are all outsiders to each other," She took a bite of her food, "Still, you are his brother, and Magnus is like one to me, so I like to think that provides enough of a common ground, at least between us, to have a pleasant conversation."
Taking a taste of the food, Vulkan was surprised to find it tasted quite good. Certainly no poison or toxin in it. "Why are you making such an effort in this?"
"The most obvious reason? Magnus will have to answer to someone back on Terra about his relationship with my people. Seeing you here means that you will most likely be the one who will report the situation when you get to Terra, which also means that I should make an attempt to reach out to you."
"Pragmatic of you." Vulkan wasn't going to deny that her getting ahead of this development would benefit people. "I suppose you telling me this will make me believe you are saying this in good faith."
Morianne shook her head, "Manipulation isn't my strongest skill, at least not yet. But I'm also not trying to make you do anything. Instead, I'm asking for understanding. Not for me or my people's plight, but toward Magnus."
"My brothers and I will all be willing to hear his reasoning behind this alliance to understand why he did it." However, Vulkan suspected that the bigger issue lies with Father and Malcador and the court of public opinion. The backlash that the Thousand Sons and Prospero will face would be immense. It will likely take millennia for their reputation to recover fully.
"Perhaps," Morianne remarked as she ate more of her food, "But right now, you are the only person here who can return to your brothers with more reasoning than otherwise would have been afforded to you."
Vulkan felt like laughing, yet he resisted the urge, "You think talking to you will give me some meaningful context about why he did this? Why might he have just thrown his reputation away? I know why he did. Magnus felt he was doing the right thing while still gaining knowledge. But he still fails to grasp the consequences of his actions, even when he does it for altruistic reasons or because he thought there was no harm to it."
Morianne looked at Vulkan and sighed, "Magnus came to us seeking answers to what he considered forbidden knowledge, but in part, it was because he wanted to speak with people that could help him beyond just the search for truth. He wasn't finding either through his family. At least, that is what he believes. Yet as absurd as this might sound to you, Lord of Drakes, we kept pushing him
back toward you and your brothers. Magnus doesn't want to be left behind or shunned, so he makes these choices to be a better brother."
Vulkan couldn't believe what he heard, "Magnus has never been shunned or left behind. He has reached out to us plenty of times for aid." Just because there had been some arguments didn't mean that Magnus was being intentionally kept at arm's length.
"Because he's afraid that any response would be considerably negative once his family learned about his alliance. Case in point." Morianne needed to only gesture to the battlefield around them.
"I don't know who made the order to attack Prospero, but I can promise you that their identities will come to light." Vulkan had a good idea that someone on Terra ordered this, meaning there would be a weak investigation. The Drake Lord didn't have much confidence in the Imperium's attempts at justice.
Morianne shook her head, "And meanwhile, Magnus will lose his connections further with the rest of you. He will see us as his only true allies. Again, this is contrary to what you believe is not the aim of the Aeldari. It's certainly not mine."
The sadness in her eyes reminded Vulkan too much of the troopers who had already lost so much in one war or another, "I know the pain of losing family too intimately. So, the idea of Magnus willingly separating from his own kin because they thought him a lost cause is…unacceptable to me."
Morianne had a bittersweet smile now, "He was my first
real friend, you know. Before him, it was just my mother and father. But they're gone now. Magnus and I are…well, as I said, we were both outsiders to the Aeldari in a way. We both latched onto what we thought was a friendly face when we had no reason. I'm glad we tried because we both benefitted and grew from it. Because of that, I will always love him as a sister to a brother."
Out of all the things he was expecting to hear, Morianne saying that she loved Magnus was probably the most insane thing so far. At least she didn't say it was romantically motivated love. That would have been a bit too much.
Briefly stirring her food, Morianne chuckled, "But the truth is, if I had to, I'd tell Magnus to go back to you and your brothers and forget about the Aeldari because you were his family first. I don't want to be even part of why another collapsed."
Vulkan wasn't sure what to make of what he heard so far, "Is this a sentiment shared by your people as well?"
Morianne didn't seem sure, "The Great Seer doesn't want to cause a human civil war. That way will lead only to the destruction of all. But does he wish to lose Magnus? I'm not sure. He
is a valuable ally. But I believe it is better to let a friend part with a smile than keep an ally who will always wonder if they did the right thing."
The Primarch grimaced, "If only it were that simple…" How often had he seen good people becoming jaded or apathetic because they merely stuck around to continue the mission when they should have been let go to keep their spark intact? Sometimes, the hardest choice was letting go or leaving something.
His compatriot agreed all the same, "Yes, if only."
An uncomfortable silence was shared between the two. Vulkan was trying to process everything and determine what it meant for Magnus's possible fate. The Eldar were willing to take steps to at least not antagonize the Imperium by wanting to keep this alliance with Magnus if it meant further trouble. Honestly, it sounded like a pretty reliable out for his brother.
The Imperium could just sweep this incident under the rug with enough time, especially if Father came forward to say something that would, if nothing else, exonerate Magnus of his relationship with the alien force. The Primarchs could do away with the wholesale slaughter of entire worlds. Why would it be impossible for this to be covered up?
But while Vulkan was thinking about all of this and the possible outcomes, he realized he wasn't considering what Magnus would have wanted. What stopped him from breaking from the Imperium entirely if he didn't believe himself wanted among his brothers? The only one who might have been able to convince him would be Jaghatai, but he wouldn't be back in Imperial space in time to help smooth things over.
Where did that leave the Primarchs? Kesar might convince Magnus to not do anything too hasty, to at least consider alternatives, while Horus or Sanguinius could appeal to his responsibilities to Prospero. But his other brothers? Leman and Mortarion might not be forgiving depending on the evidence presented, while the others would likely question Magnus's character and moral judgments. They would ask themselves what sort of brother would willingly associate himself with aliens, especially the Eldar, one of the oldest threats to humanity.
Yet Morianne claimed that the Eldar would break off their alliance if it meant keeping the Imperium intact and, more importantly, because she personally didn't want to hurt Magnus by forcing him to choose. If anything, she was willing to risk losing her friendship if it meant Magnus staying with his family.
This sentiment was admirable. Especially as Vulkan was, unfortunately, positive that Morianne was telling the truth. She'd sacrifice her friendship and her people's alliance with the Thousand Sons if it meant Magnus not getting completely ostracized or worse. So, where did that leave Vulkan in all of this?
It seemed that Morianne wanted him to understand perhaps one of the core reasons Magnus got involved with the Eldar. Beyond just some sibling relationship the two had with each other. Rather, the intention that Magnus was trying to rekindle some sort of connection with his brothers went beyond just keeping the Imperium afloat.
Not many would give up something important, let alone someone they claimed to love if it meant keeping a family together. The sad truth was that even Vulkan might have hesitated when making that decision. If anything, a few of his brothers would prefer a clean break from the rest of the Imperium, given the chance.
"If this has been some attempt to help persuade or at least influence my decision-making, I can admit that I have much to think about," Vulkan said after a minute. "But I still question if Magnus did all this out of some misplaced form of love. His ego tends to get the better of him."
"It quite often can." Morianne admitted with a grin, "His confidence can be pretty inspiring, though. Especially when it comes to teaching."
Rarely did anyone come to Magnus for anything other than learning a psychic discipline. Vulkan found it tragic in some sense. He wondered what would have happened had Magnus applied that same dedication and zeal toward mastering the warp to another skill?
A curious thought entered Vulkan's mind, "Has he taught you, Morianne?"
She enthusiastically nodded, "Plenty of times."
"Why, though?" Vulkan would have thought the Eldar would have more than enough teachers.
Now Morianne laughed at what must have been an obvious answer to her, "Because he's good at teaching, and it makes him happy. Magnus likes it when people ask him questions, especially about his passions. Just as he likes asking and receiving answers, he also likes giving them. Case in point, he taught me more than a few cantrips." She showed off the same flame power she used to start the campfire. "Otherwise, it's just been us trading stories and questions."
"What has he told you?" Vulkan wanted to know what information would be passed around in this alliance.
"As I said, a lot about you and your brothers, his time here on Prospero, the Great Crusade, and what he's learned. I can't give him much insight or wisdom, but I can offer some perspective on specific matters. And I suppose being a good listener helps."
It all sounded so…innocent. Perhaps Vulkan should have given Magnus the benefit of the doubt and considered that the Crimson King wouldn't have given away strategic secrets to the Eldar, but it was hard to imagine them not asking. Besides, they most certainly knew about how fractured the Imperium was becoming.
What interested Vulkan was the bit about Magnus telling her stories about them, "What stories have you heard about us from my brother?" That he showed this woman an otherwise embarrassing photo of himself made Vulkan wonder how much else she shared.
This caused Morianne to get a gleeful look in her eyes, "He's told me quite a few things."
A ghost of a smile graced Vulkan's face, "I might be keen to hear what you know, just to see if I haven't heard them before."
"Maybe you can also confirm or not if Magnus was lying or just exaggerating the tale. For instance, he claims you can submerge in molten lava and emerge unscathed." Oh,
this story again.
"It's not as amazing as it sounds. It would be more akin to you trying to stay underwater in a local hot spring. Your body will become extremely uncomfortable after a while."
"But you can
stay in the lava for as long as you want?" The wonder and excitement in her voice were a bit too adorable for the Primarch.
"Correct." Vulkan didn't consider this a secret. He told plenty, but most assumed he was exaggerating for the sake of it. Sometimes, it felt like people wanted to hear some great feat, either take it at face value or dismiss it, but none ever sought to get the truth.
Morianne seemed quite interested, though, "How does that work? Can you teach your sons this ability? Or was it something you were born with?"
"Oh, well, um…"
"Also, Magnus said that one of your brothers can fly! With organic wings on his back! He told me a few of his theories, but he's never had the chance to ask."
Vulkan was starting to realize something incredible was happening. In all their interactions, it might have been possible that some aspects of Magnus's own personality might have rubbed off on someone like Morianne, which made a bit of sense. A young and impressionable woman who was also a psyker and openly proclaimed loving the Crimson King like a brother…
A female and Eldar version of Magnus the Red might be one of the strangest combinations for this galaxy. Perhaps in this case, Vulkan might need to be careful with what he told her, no longer for information security, but to prevent something crazy from happening down the line.
Still, Vulkan felt strangely comfortable now as the pair shared theories and stories, all the while as the night of Prospero slowly came and went. The Primarch learned that Eldar likewise didn't require much sleep either. For now, the firelight and conversation seemed to be the only thing needed for the night.
Daylight arrived, bringing an end to their night of conversation. Vulkan couldn't help but acknowledge that it had become increasingly difficult to maintain his initial suspicion and mistrust of Morianne. He had to admit that, at least personally, she seemed genuine. However, he remained cautious and refused to extend his trust fully.
Morianne, wrapped up in her eagerness to find the nest, didn't seem to notice or be concerned about Vulkan's shifting sentiments. As they readied themselves to continue their journey, she was focused on the task at hand, while Vulkan couldn't help but think about his Legion and the recent developments on Prospero. This adventure, while enlightening in some ways, needed to end soon.
Once again, Vulkan depended on Morianne to guide them to their next destination. He didn't understand how exactly they were supposed to find this "octagon" or whatever, but surprisingly Morianne seemed confident. Araloth was up in the air, seemingly looking for this as well. This bird was intelligent enough to recognize shapes, faces, and locations, so at least this was moving faster.
That said, "I feel like I could call upon some of my sons to help speed this along," Vulkan remarked after a moment to Morianne.
"You could," Morianne agreed while looking to get her bearings, "But then you'd have to explain why they are out here and where you got this information from."
Vulkan didn't want to imagine how much trouble that would bring, "Good point." He also looked around, "Still, you've been out here for days."
"Unfortunately." Morianne was looking around, and the Primarch briefly wondered if she was using honest survival instincts or the warp to find her destination. "I'm generally quite used to being in nature, but this place has been torn apart."
Now seemed like a good time to ask what had been on his mind, "Can you commune with the animals?"
She shook her head, "Sadly, no."
"But they react positively around you, almost to an absurd degree. Are you perhaps using a form of psychic suggestion?" He wanted to know just what sort of ability this. Perhaps something the Exodites had in their bloodlines.
"Perhaps?" Morianne sounded uncertain, "I've always been good with animals and beasts. It's just something unique to me. Mother and father never could explain why." Hrm, so something
not shared amongst the Exodites, then.
The duo pressed on, journeying deeper into the forest for another hour or so. They found themselves in an area of the woods that appeared in much better condition than the war-torn landscape they had previously encountered. This area seemed to have been spared from the intense fighting that had raged outside.
As they ventured further, Vulkan couldn't help but sense an ancient and otherworldly presence about this place. There was something deeply mystical and primordial in the air, which wasn't surprising given Prospero's unique connection to warp energies, amplified by the multitude of psykers on the planet.
The forest had grown unusually quiet as if a blanket of silence had descended upon it. Morianne seemed unperturbed by this, but Vulkan couldn't help but remark, "This place has gone still."
She nodded in agreement, her gaze sweeping over the gnarled and twisted trees, their forms seemingly warped by both the passage of time and the warp's influence. As Vulkan's keen eyesight picked out peculiar objects hanging from the branches, he couldn't help but inquire, "Are those hanging bone fetishes?"
Morianne observed them more closely now, "I believe they are." With that, she continued to move forward, her pace steady. "Magnus once told me that the ancient Prosperoians were a rather ritualistic people."
Vulkan considered this as he walked alongside her. "Many psyker traditions involve some form of ritual," he remarked, thinking of the various practices of his fellow Primarchs and their legions, such as Leman Russ and his Wolf Priests. "Wait, are we in an ancient ritual site?"
Morianne confirmed his suspicion, pointing to the dense canopy above that filtered the daylight, leaving only the occasional sliver of sunlight. "Magnus referred to them as groves," she explained. "Long before the Age of Strife, the humans who settled Prospero worshiped a now-forgotten god, though it was a rather casual relationship, much like the one the Aeldari once had with our pantheon."
Vulkan made a mental note of this intriguing piece of Eldar history. "So, let me guess," he continued, "when the Age of Strife arrived, and psykers began emerging, the ancient Prosperoians returned to their groves, seeking their gods' protection."
Morianne's smile indicated that he was on the right track. "Exactly," she replied. "But when their deity did not answer their pleas, the groves were eventually abandoned. Only later did the first Prosperoian psykers return to use these places to learn and master their abilities before rejoining the broader human population. Over time, the groves fell into disuse and were forgotten until newcomers arrived."
As they walked along an old dirt path, the bone fetishes took on increasingly eccentric forms, reminding Vulkan of the whimsical creations of a child. "Newcomers?" he inquired.
Upon asking that question, Morianne and Vulkan entered a clearing where a series of large stones had been arranged in an octagonal pattern encircled by ancient trees. The forest canopy above opened up, allowing sunlight to bathe the clearing in a warm, golden glow.
But what caught his attention was the number of nests among the trees and stones, along with discarded feathers, bones, and pebbles. Araloth descended down and placed himself on one of the stones. It didn't take long for Vulkan to realize who called this place home.
"Setesian Magpies?" Vulkan found the whole deeply amusing and almost whimsical, "So they are the ones who've made those bone fetishes? Of all the creatures on a single world, a species you described as tricksters and kleptomaniacs."
"The galaxy is strange like that." Morianne cryptically remarked as the pair entered the clearing while she started looking around. "The Setesians are quite intelligent. I imagine someday they will inherit this world." Vulkan held his tongue over that comment.
"So, the eggs you need to find are here?" Vulkan was looking around the clearing and saw many empty nests and the general chaos in a place like this. "It seems like anything worth keeping was taken already."
Morianne didn't respond; instead, she focused on her surroundings. "Blood Raven eggs were too fragile to move." Vulkan was wondering how a bunch of birds would relocate their nests but again didn't question the logic. He looked at some stones and was surprised to see writings and images chiseled in. It looked like a series of instructions. It was difficult to visualize the Setesians trying to decipher all of this.
Meanwhile, Araloth gracefully circled the clearing, inspecting the highest nests but seemingly finding nothing. Vulkan took a moment to consider the harsh reality that these eggs would have perished if left unattended for several days without warmth. Yet, given the intelligence of the Setesian Magpies, he suspected they had devised a solution.
Vulkan pondered what the Setesians could have done given their impending escape from the siege that was taking place around them. The most apparent solution, fire, might have been a hazard in itself, with the risk of spreading uncontrollably and harming the avians if they even possessed an awareness of its destructive capabilities. Furthermore, the limited fuel available would likely have depleted by this point.
Contemplating whether the Setesian Magpies possessed some form of psychic power led Vulkan to dismiss the idea. He knew that in the galaxy, only a few animals exhibited psychic abilities, and they often fell into two categories: hyper-aggressive or heavily mutated. It was essential to recognize that just because a species evolved on a planet rich in psykers did not automatically grant them the same abilities.
Vulkan's thoughts shifted towards the Setesian Magpies' reputation as tricksters and kleptomaniacs. Given their nature, it was plausible that they had pilfered or acquired something that could generate the required heat before or during the siege. However, their likely inability to comprehend most forms of technology would have further limited their options. Therefore, the solution had to be simple, straightforward, and all-natural yet capable of maintaining a stable heat source for an extended period.
Vulkan idly wondered something. He kneeled and placed his hand on the ground. Closing his eyes, the Drake Lord felt a familiar heat stirring in the soil and stones. That which came from a natural source. He doubted any volcanoes were nearby…but a geothermal vent might have been possible.
"The ground here is very warm." He told Morianne, "Probably a hot spring nearby. If these birds were as smart as they are, they'd have put the eggs somewhere close to rock and water to help retain heat."
She momentarily considered, "Hmm, but I'm not hearing any water source?"
"Odds are good they could have been bringing hot water back." He gestured to a few stolen ceramic bowls and even a helmet. "If anything, they likely figured out that metal, rock, and water can keep heat the longest. It's probably some sort of bizarre amalgamation of a nest. It would still be somewhere high up, though."
The birds probably made sure to at least position the nest, given the abundant sunlight in the grove. Morianne seemed to agree and then gave further instructions to Araloth. The pair waited a few minutes before Araloth started screeching, "Found! Found! Found!"
Before Vulkan could even ask what they were to do now, he almost reacted on instinct as he felt Morianne
jump into the tree that Araloth flew over with a speed and grace so unnatural it made the Drake Lord pull out both his hammers. It reminded him too much of a pouncing predator back on Nocturne. She must have been using some sort of psychic enhancement because Vulkan had never seen any Eldar move like that.
"Ahh!" She cried out in excitement from high atop the tree, "Found them!" Vulkan would be lying to himself if he didn't feel a bit of relief at actually accomplishing what they had set out to do. He hadn't wasted any real time, then.
"Can they be safely moved?"
A few seconds later, she said, "I have a special container for them." A few minutes passed before Morianne gracefully dropped to the ground beside the Primarch. "Easy." She showed off seven pinkish eggs to Vulkan. "Good call, by the way. The tops of the trees all have metal and glass on top of them. The Setesian must use them as a signal for finding the grove."
"Huh, sort of like a lighthouse."
Morianne looked confused at the lighthouse comment but nodded, "Either that or some sort of defensive measure against predators." Sliding the container back into her pack, the young woman looked grateful at him. "Thank you, Vulkan. You might have just saved me a lot of time unless I tried to divine their location."
"Hmm," Vulkan looked uncertain momentarily before slowly nodding, "It was no issue. You're welcome." A little magnanimity wouldn't be unwarranted in this situation. Besides, this whole baffling situation was coming to an end soon enough.
"By the way," She pulled out something and held it toward him, "Something you might enjoy. It's volcanic glass. It's warm to the touch. I'm not sure how this ended here, but I found it among the nest, heating up what I think was a leather waterskin."
Taking the small chunk of volcanic glass, which was no bigger than a child's finger, in his hands, Vulkan could still feel an unnatural heat from within the shard. So the birds weren't using heated water from a geothermal vent for the nest, but instead, this tiny thing? Given its unnatural property, the Drake Lord had to assume there might have been some warp-related traits to it.
He wondered where this might have come from and why it had these properties—a question for much later. Vulkan was now ready to leave and return to his sons. His little excursion was finally over.
They must have walked for another few hours before exiting the Irisian Forests. Try as he might, Vulkan did continue talking with Morianne about the grove and the implications of a Setesian proto-culture taking its first breath on Prospero—a useful distraction, if nothing else.
When they finally reached what appeared to be a paved path, Morianne stopped and turned to Vulkan, "This is where we part ways. To the south of here is a small town where a Spireguard patrol will arrive to pick me up. You, however, should head west. You'll find a few refugees displaced by the conflict who can use your help. Your son will arrive soon after."
He wondered when she had time to divine that. Still, Vulkan nodded, "Hmm, then this is indeed where we say goodbyes." He wouldn't have put as much thought into this meeting's end in any other instance. Yet Morianne had been nothing but friendly and patient.
"Before we leave, can you do me a favor?" She looked a little anxious, "When you speak with Magnus, can you maybe not mention that you met with me to him?"
"What, why?" That was an odd request to make. "You put so much effort into telling me how much he cares about you and how you feel the same way. It's not Magnus would feel ashamed or embarrassed."
"It's because I won't hear the end of it." Morianne explained, "Big brother wants to make sure his little sister didn't get into trouble on top of everything else that happened here." That sounded plausible, but Vulkan sensed there was more to this. She wasn't telling him the whole truth.
"Is there another reason for this?" Vulkan crossed his arms, "If this is the point when you start trying to lie, you might have better results just being completely honest." He expected her to be dismissive or play it off. Instead, Morianne stopped herself and then got very serious.
"Magnus thought that you'd have wounded or killed me if he wasn't here doing a potential first meeting." She answered quietly, and Vulkan felt taken aback. "And honestly, some of my visions warned me of such a fate."
What could Vulkan have said here? He couldn't deny it because he most certainly would have killed any Eldar if given the chance. But to hear Morianne admit that it was a real possibility was a bit startling even to Vulkan. For one, she took a serious risk meeting him then.
Secondly, did Vulkan have so little control over his anger that he'd kill someone who greeted him in friendship if there wasn't some sort of guest right protecting them? His entire body had been tense this trip, unconsciously waiting for Morianne to reveal her true intentions or do something to warrant his fury.
Instead, she had been beyond friendly and earnest, more so than most other humans he had met these days. Also, whatever good she held in spirit was incredible and almost a breath of fresh air for Vulkan. Did he truly have the capability to end such a life?
Unfortunately, Vulkan admitted to himself that he did. Magnus was right to worry. How tragic was it then that a Primarch could not let that fury go, even after all of this. How pathetic of the Drake Lord.
"Still, I'm glad I got to meet you." Morianne's words brought him back to reality, "Even with those risks, I knew I had to take the chance. Fate's a strange thing, Vulkan. It can often show you what awaits us all, but it's not all-encompassing, nor am I infallible when I see it. We both had to trust in ourselves not to harm the other. And behold, neither of us tried to kill each other. In fact, we worked together to accomplish something. Perhaps something insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to the Setesians, this was important. To you, me, and Magnus…it
is important."
"So you say." Vulkan finally spoke, "But this interaction was, by your own admission, a thing of chance. This hasn't changed what happened to Prospero or the consequences that have yet to crash upon us all." Already, his mind was returning to what awaited the Imperium when the aftermath of this attack came around. There would be a reckoning, one way or another.
"That's true." Morianne nodded but then smiled before leaving, "But remember, just as our meeting was a thing of chance, that also means that more things can change, perhaps even for the better. I believe humans call that serendipity. But I suppose hope is also applicable here. If there is anything to take from this meeting, it's that we can be nice to each other."
As she walked away, Vulkan pondered what she said. A chance for hope? Again, hearing it from an Eldar of all people was hard to believe. But he couldn't help but call out her to ask, "You truly believe that?"
Morianne laughed, "I do!" She gave one last wave to Vulkan before heading south with Araloth flying above her, cawing, "Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!" Figuring that this finally marked the end of the excursion, the Primarch turned to the west and started walking as well. More people could use his help.
Vulkan's thoughts were a whirlwind of reflection and contemplation as he continued. The encounter with Morianne had left an indelible mark on him, challenging his preconceptions and beliefs. Thoughts of Magnus and the looming challenges they faced as brothers filled his mind. But amidst all this, an unexpected warmth crept into his heart.
He couldn't deny the truth: helping children and small creatures had a unique power to soothe his weary soul. It was a simple and pure joy, a respite from the complexities of the galaxy. It might have seemed incongruous for a Primarch, but it was exactly what he needed right now. With a small, genuine smile, Vulkan continued on his path, determined to bring more happiness to the galaxy, one small act of kindness at a time.
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@Daemon Hunter Follow up omake for this event.
