Beyond the veil, within the Crystal Labyrinth of the Empyrean, countless threads of fate converged before Tzeentch, the Fate Weaver.
"Nareth... Blackstone Fortress... Abaddon... Change..."
His voice was heavy. A face sprouting from his right chest repeated monotonously: "Nareth... Blackstone Fortress... Abaddon... Change..."
"No... The Aghoru plan must be completed. It is essential..."
The face on His right chest vanished, replaced by one on His left leg, its tone resolute: "No... The Aghoru plan must be completed. It is essential..."
Tzeentch's eyes blazed with color. He watched Yatiri, chieftain of the Ahgrul tribe, who had escorted Magnus and Nareth from the valley and returned to the basalt altar.
His arms rose, weaving intricate threads before him.
"All is within my grasp."
A face on his left shoulder, a sinister cackle: "All is within my grasp."
The voice faded to a whisper.
Deep within the thirty-thousand-meter peaks of Aghoru, at the basalt altar.
Yatiri's eyelids grew heavy. He found a flat rock against the cliff face and lay on his side.
Once a mask was donned, it was never removed, even in sleep, even during procreation.
Yatiri, clutching his spear, drifted to sleep in the fading twilight.
As he grew drowsy, he saw his beautiful god.
"Nareth's arrival has broken the balance. The Dasai are stirring, about to break free."
"You must perform the sacrifice to save your world."
"I understand..." Yatiri clutched his spear tightly.
"Your divine will be done!"
Yatiri jolted awake. He scrambled to his feet, looking at the elders around him.
Through the eye-holes of their masks, they saw the same resolve in each other's eyes.
Yatiri raised his spear: "Sacrifice!"
He climbed the altar, chanting in the local Low Gothic, praying to a false, nonexistent god.
The tribesmen formed a circle around him, facing each other in pairs.
One was the killer, raising his spear to strike the sacrifice opposite.
Thwip, thwip, thwip...
Spears flew, blades piercing flesh and bone.
Bodies fell on the basalt altar.
Blood splattered, staining it red.
The killers re-paired, continuing the sacrifice.
Yatiri ended his useless prayer, raised his spear, and plunged it into the chest of the last member of his tribe.
Finally, Yatiri reversed the spear, driving it into his own neck.
Blood and death seeped through Aghoru's fragile veil, forming a black-red sphere in the Changer of Ways' left hand.
Bang!
As the Fate Weaver crushed the sphere, the Aeldar seal shattered.
The immense power accumulated within the mountains exploded like a flood.
With a thunderous, earth-shattering roar, the long-dead Aeldar Titans, infused with Tzeentch's power, were reborn.
Cliffs split. Massive rocks tumbled.
The two Titans, nearly petrified and merged with the mountain, wrenched themselves free.
Boom!
The first Titan's foot crashed into the valley.
A psychic storm howled, breaking through the barrier of dead-stone, striking the camps of the Shadows of Order and the Thousand Sons.
The power of the Great Ocean surged. Psychic energy exploded in the mind of every being with aetheric sight.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
Pillars of flame rose from the Pyrae Cult Thousand Sons, soaring skyward like fireworks.
The surging aetheric energy poured into them; they had never felt so powerful.
Khalophis, Magister Templi of the Pyrae Cult, his eyes blazing, clenched his right fist, struggling to control the surging power.
"Just let the power flow into you. You will gain unparalleled strength!" A supernatural temptation echoed in his mind.
The flames of his Tutelary, Cyoda, burned ever brighter.
"No!" Khalophis growled.
He was drawn to destruction, and the Pyrae Cult now stood at the crest of the Great Ocean's mutable tide. His achievements were rapidly approaching those of Ahzek Ahriman and Hathor Maat, but he had never been one to abuse violence.
He held his mental defenses, resisting the temptation.
His resistance cost him his power; even his limbs grew rigid and immobile.
Just then, a deep, authoritative voice pierced his ears and mind.
"Ascend to the highest state of mind you have achieved."
The words, like an anchor in a maddening storm, pointed towards a harbor of self-control.
Khalophis stepped into the Magnus state, attempting to rebuild his mental defenses.
As he pushed his state of mind to higher levels, the storm of aetheric fire subsided.
Whoosh!
Khalophis ascended to the Eighth Level of the Magnus state, regaining control of himself.
He followed the marble-like hand on his pauldron to the black-armored, golden-winged giant.
"Lord Nareth! I thank you for your aid."
"You are welcome." Nareth, having steadied Khalophis, withdrew his hand, looking towards the valley.
'Did my arrival caused Tzeentch to set his plan in motion early?'
Light and shadow flickered in the Primarch's eyes. His consciousness unfurled.
He saw Magnus helping Ahriman enter his state of mind and rebuild his defenses, then moving towards Phosis T'Kar, Magister Templi of the Raptora Cult.
Hathor Maat, the "Hypnotist," needed no prompting, already building his own mental defenses, and moving to assist Ankhu Anen, Guardian of Tizca's great library.
Nareth's consciousness found Santiago Borgkamp and fifteen other "Scribes" in the camp. With a thought, he sent them mental pulses.
"Follow me. As planned, record the special coordinates."
The Shadows of Order maintained the Third Level of the Thelema mindstate, converging on their gene-father.
Nareth walked towards the mountains.
As his majestic form passed, Khalophis saw, in the shadows behind Lord Nareth, Santiago of the 5th and Pat following.
Santiago was accompanied by four CORV Drones, their anti-psychic circuits blazing, severing their connection to the Great Ocean.
Khalophis averted his gaze, running to help the Thousand Sons of his own Fellowship rebuild their defenses.
He was Khalophis, the unstoppable. He would not fall behind the Shadows of Order.
Nareth stepped out from under the crimson awnings, seeing Magnus already had gathered nearly five hundred Thousand Sons from the various cults.
"Nareth, the fragile balance has been broken. We must re-establish it."
Nareth looked at the black tendrils wrapping the two Aeldar Titans, pulsing with Chaotic energy.
"One each."
Magnus's eye rolled to red. He remembered that both Nareth and Sanguinius had destroyed Aeldar Wraithknights during the Defence of Helioret.
Nareth had even been the first in the Imperium to destroy a Warlock Titan.
Magnus's single eye blazed with fire.
....
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