Webway, Ilmarin
068.M41
Sanguinius
Slowly, the muffled sounds of conversation and the low hum of circulating energy reached him. His mind seemed sluggish at first, lethargic, on the brink of destruction.
After a moment, memories began to return, but not of what had come before, but of the fight itself, the struggle with the Shard of Mal'gadaroth. It seemed to him as if it lasted forever. The endless pain and the feeling as if his soul were being ground to dust. And the certainty of defeat, which he realised at some point. l'gadaroth. It seemed to him as if it lasted.
He was too arrogant and self-confident, and Shard was too powerful, especially since he found himself having to contend not only with him but also with those with whom he seemed to have already assimilated.
"Brother, how are you feeling?" came Jaghatai's voice from beside him, tinged with worry.
Sanguinius didn't respond immediately, however, as he hadn't recovered enough to find his voice. His throat felt dry and hoarse.
His body felt strange, difficult to control, as if he were wearing ill-fitting armour.
A good few minutes passed before his senses began to stabilise. When he could see clearly again, he glanced around the room cautiously.
He was still in the Inner Sanctum, as he had been after all the previous merging rituals had concluded. The chamber was more crowded than usual. Present were not only his brother, the Aeldari, and the Old Ones, but also the commanders of his Angeli Custodes, led by Raldoron.
He could see the obvious worry on their faces, except for the Old Ones, of course, but in their case, he could sense their relief. Could this ritual be so problematic? Yes, it was. He barely survived it.
He leaped to his feet from the altar, startling the others. He immediately felt dizzy and dropped to one knee, bracing himself with his hand on the ground.
He felt a searing pain in his chest. It was as if fire was consuming him from the inside, and at the same time ice filled his veins.
Asuryan's flame, once awakened, clearly refused to calm down. The Void swiftly followed suit, awakening in reaction.
However, whereas previously it had been like a raging river that he had tried to keep in its current and stem by building a barrier, he now found himself standing before a vast ocean of absolute blackness, stretching endlessly beyond the horizon.
He expected such a powerful Void to immediately consume the Flame, which was, after all, the essence of his soul. But to his surprise and relief, they began to intertwine, finally stabilising. However, this wasn't the end of the changes that took place within him, for external changes followed.
His body, previously a mere manifestation of his soul, crafted from the pure energy of the Immaterium, now felt more real than ever. Made of living metal, pure white, it seemed almost alive. He examined his hands carefully, tracing every imperfection and the traces of veins running along them. He glanced at the rest of his body.
His naked figure, slightly more slender than before, seemed indistinguishable from that of a human, except for the colour. But these were mere appearances. Every single cell in his body was crafted from living metal, and the Void flowed through his veins, making them nearly indestructible.
He reached out and grasped a strand of his hair, which now resembled tiny threads of golden energy, between his fingers.
And in place of his beautiful snow-white wings, which crumbled to dust, twelve tentacles made of white flame grew, glowing with a blinding light, which writhed throughout the Inner Sanctum as if they had a life of their own, together forming luminous wings.
His new form was truly powerful; as his mind and soul fully merged with his new body, he felt virtually invincible. The Void no longer felt like a savage beast, inches from his face, ready to devour him at any moment, but was a part of him, literally.
And his psychic power had also grown immensely. Where before, his powers had been smouldering embers in a furnace, they now became blazing flames. He couldn't help but wonder how he would fare against the Chaos Gods.
His companions were as impressed with his new body as he was.
Carefully observing his every move, while maintaining a safe distance. This, however, did not apply to the Old Ones. His mentors, excitement radiating from their psychic bodies, rushed to analyse his new form.
Their mental probes scanned his body and soul with the fascination and meticulousness of the Red Priests of Mars. With any other being, Sanguinius would likely have felt uneasy, but with these ancient beings, it was different.
In that moment, standing before them, he became the fulfilment of their plans, ambitions, and work, stretching back tens of millions of years.
He was beginning to remember the desperation and the woman's voice.
Who was she? He remembered her voice, but he didn't know her face. Her presence, however, was unique; in fact, it reminded him of his Orain and others, only much more powerful. Suddenly, he felt an extraordinary warmth filling him, as if someone had lit a fire in his chest 'Isha.' That single word filled his mind, but he didn't know where it came from.
But with the name came a face. Inhumanly beautiful, pale, shrouded in a curtain of silver hair, and green eyes gleamed with Life itself.
He surmised that this information might be a remnant of consciousness or memories of the Asuryan flame, which burned within him more vividly than ever before.
His mind, which had begun to work at full speed again, immediately connected the dots. Isha, goddess of the harvest, fertility, nature, life, healing, and growth, and the divine mother of the Aeldari species.
But wasn't the rest of the Pantheon, except for Cegorach and the shards of Kaella Mensha Khaine, swallowed up by Slaanesh?
Yet he was absolutely convinced that the woman was real, and only thanks to her would he be able to survive the merging with the Mag'ladroth Shard of Mars. The energy she gave him tipped the scales in his favour.
"Orain, what can you tell me about your goddess Ishaa? What happened to her?" Sanguinius asked, sitting in a tall chair across from him, his wings shrinking to two metres long and floating freely as if on an invisible wind behind him.
The Ancient Eldar thought for a moment before answering, "I don't know where this question comes from, but I could tell you so much about her that it would take days. Besides, you already know the most important things about her. What exactly do you want to know?"
Sanguinius, realising he should have been more specific, replied, "What happened to her after the fall of your race and birth of Slaanesh? Was she consumed along with the rest of the Pantheon?"
"No, she was rescued by Nurgle," the Seeker interjected, "though the word 'rescue' is hardly appropriate in the case of the god of chaos, for what became of her afterward we do not know."
Orain nodded, clearly agreeing with the Old One's words, and added, "She was probably absorbed by him or used in some sick ritual to enhance the Lord of Decay's powers. Unfortunately, we have no insight into the domains of the Ruinous Four themselves. It's too risky."
Sanguinius shook his head slightly, disagreeing with this statement. He was becoming more and more convinced with each passing moment that the woman who had helped him was indeed the Eldar goddess of life and was alive.
"She may be imprisoned, but she is certainly alive. During my struggle with the Shard from Mars, I was helped by a woman whom the Flame of Asuryan recognised as Isha," he said firmly, to emphasise how certain he was of these words.
"It would explain how you managed to stabilise so quickly, and this after we saw Mag'ladroth's will begin to dominate yours," the Prophet stated. "However, if Isha is alive, it would suggest she is trapped in the Garden of Nurgle, and that raises a serious problem."
Sanguinius frowned. "If you intend to suggest that this puts her beyond our reach, you are mistaken, old friend," he said, his voice carrying a depth and strength it hadn't possessed before. "It's time these self-proclaimed gods learnt they are not safe in their own homes."
He saw the doubts on their faces and felt them in their minds, yet he was determined to find the goddess. He owed her at least that much for saving his existence. For how could he aspire to become the sole god and ruler of this grimdark universe if he couldn't repay those who had helped him?
He turned to the Seeker and asked, "How long will you need to verify that she is in Nurgle's domain and where she is being held?"
The Old One thought for a moment, as if searching for an answer, then replied, "It depends on whether we are ready to reveal our presence, and by that I mean the three of our race and Ilmarin itself. If I violate Nurgle's domain, he will know, and soon the others will too."
Sanguinius considered his words for a moment, while the others watched him silently. For him, the time of waiting and hiding was over. He was no longer 'just' a Primarch but something entirely new. He had experienced true transcendence, both physical and spiritual.
"I would like to wait a few years, maybe even decades, to get used to my new powers, but I prefer not to waste time. Do everything you can to locate Isha, and if you manage to find her, strategise and organise an assault on the Garden of Nurgle. In the meantime, I will go to the Deep Warp to gain control of my powers there."
"It's too risky," Prophet replied, his voice genuinely worried. "The deepest reaches of the Empyrean are too dangerous. It's a place where even the Chaos gods fear to tread."
"But also the only place where I can train my powers without drawing attention and without the passage of time, because it doesn't exist there." Sanguinius replied, his tone clearly intended to imply that he had already made up his mind.