Talon II – The Polar Fortress
The sorcerer did not resist.
As the guards dragged him through the narrow, frost-lined corridors, his expression remained eerily serene, as if his entire existence; his birth, his training, his years of study had all been for the sole purpose of deceiving Archon into paying a price he never needed to pay.
In the adjacent chamber, the torturers prepared their tools.
The process began with neural stimulants, injected directly into the sorcerer's veins to keep him conscious, denying him even the fleeting mercy of unconsciousness.
Then came the life-preserving machinery, an unholy fusion of arcane technology and crude augmetics, ensuring the body could endure long past its natural breaking point.
Only then did they begin subjecting him to every known form of torture in the Talon system.
Moments later, screams of pure, unfiltered agony filled the corridors.
Archon, still seething, felt his rage subside, if only slightly.
It was time to focus on the more important matter at hand:
Extracting knowledge from Ky'ei.
Archon turned back toward the towering, misshapen form before him, the eldritch glow of Ky'ei's gaze flickering like dying embers in a void. The daemon's avian silhouette loomed over the chamber, its twisted feathers shimmering with colors that had no place in reality, colors that clawed at the sanity of any who looked too long.
"What is the current state of Tyrone Hive?" Archon demanded.
Ky'ei's luminous gaze narrowed, its voice a cacophony of overlapping echoes, layered with the weight of countless unseen tongues.
"You have been replaced," it said, simply.
Archon's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.
"Another now holds your former title."
Ky'ei tilted its monstrous head, the motion graceless and wrong, the bones beneath its hide shifting in ways they should not.
"This… thing… does not appear human to me." It exhaled a rasping chuckle, the sound like a thousand withered wings rustling in the dark. "In my sight, he is nothing but a void, a blank wound where nothing should exist. He is the new Governor."
Archon narrowed his eyes.
Of course, he already knew the state of Tyrone Hive.
He had only asked to test the daemon's truthfulness.
Ky'ei had passed.
Now, he would ask what he truly wished to know.
"I had an operative named Venomfang," Archon said slowly. "I left him behind on Talon I. I have long suspected him and his servant of plotting against me..."
Before he could finish, Ky'ei cut him off.
"Venomfang never intended to betray you."
A pause.
And then, laughter.
Ky'ei's laughter was a grotesque thing, resonating like the death cries of a thousand souls condemned to oblivion.
"His loyalty to you was so absolute that even I find it… remarkable."
Archon's expression twisted in confusion.
"Then where is he now?"
Ky'ei sighed, the sound heavy with mock pity.
"Venomfang devised a plan, he sought to enhance his power and knowledge through a ritual."
The daemon's smoldering gaze darkened.
"But he was deceived."
"By who?"
"His own servant."
The air in the chamber grew cold. Frost bloomed along the iron walls, the torches dimming with unnatural unease.
"The ritual did not make him stronger. It did not make him wiser. It simply reduced him to… flesh."
Archon's body stiffened.
"And what was his servant's goal?"
A shudder passed through Ky'ei's malformed frame.
For the first time, the daemon seemed afraid.
It trembled.
"To turn Venomfang into nothing but corrupted, undulating flesh… and then to deliver that flesh to you."
Ky'ei's form flickered, its voice growing hushed.
"From there, a web of intrigue would unfold, one that would culminate in bringing my true master into this world."
Archon's breath slowed.
The torches wavered, their light guttering as if recoiling from the name left unspoken.
"Your true master?" Archon murmured.
Ky'ei's grotesque features twisted in terror.
"I dare not speak its name," it whispered. "Its title is… the Weaver of Fates."
The daemon's voice lowered to a whisper.
"But worry not. The servant failed. He was struck down by pure lightning, his body reduced to cinders. Not even his soul remains."
Archon closed his eyes, processing the revelations.
The daemon spoke in riddles, its words veiled, a summary rather than absolute truth.
But that didn't matter.
The past was irrelevant.
What Archon truly desired to know… was the future.
"What awaits me?"
Ky'ei hesitated.
Then, its eyes burned like twin stars, peering beyond the material realm, beyond space and time.
Into the unseen tapestry of fate.
Silence stretched.
And then the daemon spoke.
"You will be undefeated in your games of intrigue. You will slay every noble who dares defy you. You will not only reclaim Talon I, but this world as well. Talon III will fall before your might, fully subjugated under your rule."
Ky'ei's voice grew distant, almost dreamlike.
"Upon a throne of adamantium, you shall stride through the underhive. Your countless servants groveling at your feet, their tongues severed so they may never whisper your name in defiance. You will be a king. Your ambition will swell… And in the end… You will betray the Corpse upon the Throne."
Archon's breath caught.
He had expected prophecies of his demise.
Yet this… was beyond anything he had dared to dream.
A future of absolute dominion.
"When?!" Archon demanded, his voice trembling with excitement. "When will I achieve this fate?"
Ky'ei smiled.
"Four months ago."
Archon froze, then he laughed bitterly.
"You're joking."
Ky'ei's expression did not change.
"You were meant to rule. But your fate has been rewritten."
Ky'ei's gaze grew distant.
This world was never meant to be like this.
Ky'ei saw Grey.
And Grey was dead.
His fate had been sealed five months ago. Torn apart, his flesh devoured in the writhing darkness of the Underhive by the Genestealer Cult.
Yet, Grey was alive.
Even now, he stood before the void, preparing for war.
Ky'ei shuddered violently.
This was wrong.
Fate was wrong.
The entire Talon system's timeline was twisted and broken beyond comprehension.
Ky'ei's gaze drifted to the void, the one thing it could not perceive.
The absence in fate.
"The void you see… what is it?"
Archon's voice pulled the daemon from its daze.
Ky'ei shook.
"A void. I cannot describe it. When I look upon it, only one word comes to mind, nothingness."
Ky'ei's voice grew frantic.
"He is a soulless one. You call them 'Blanks', the Untouchables. But he is not merely that."
Archon's brow furrowed.
"Speak plainly. What is he?"
Ky'ei fell to its knees.
Feathers, dark and iridescent, cascaded from its warped form, as if its very essence recoiled from the truth it had unearthed.
The glow in its eyes flickered violently, blood dripping from its sockets.
"He is… part god. An ancient power of the material realm. But his true essence remains unsee, his being unshaped by the tides of the warp. He is something that should not exist. He was not birthed in this realm. Not shaped by it. He comes from somewhere else, a place i cannot fathom. And his presence has shattered fate itself."
Ky'ei lifted its gaze to the ceiling.
"He is coming. Right now. He has appeared above the glacier, his army with him."
Archon's hands trembled.
"How do I stop him? What decisions will he make? How do I defend the fortress?!"
Ky'ei's luminous gaze dimmed, flickering like a dying ember.
It lowered its head, peering at Archon with something almost akin to pity.
Then, in a voice filled with pure, unfiltered honesty, it replied:
"I do not know. I cannot see him. I do not know what he will do. I do not know how to stop him."
Archon's breath hitched.
Then, his fear twisted into fury.
"Then why did I summon you?! What USE are you?!"
Ky'ei placed a clawed hand on Archon's shoulder.
"Do not blame me. I have never seen such a thing before."
Then, with a faint smirk, it added.
"And do not blame yourself. You played your part to perfection. Your enemy is simply… far too powerful."