Axion did not remain silent for long. The computational efficiency of his quantum core was far swifter and more precise than human thought.
"Irrefutable suggestion. Based on feasibility calculations, locating a Primarch lost within the Warp has a 62.39% probability of accelerating the progression of the Crusade of Retribution."
"However, the fundamental problem remains: how does one track a Primarch who has vanished into the Immaterium?"
Just as Axion questioned Jaghatai Khan on the execution of such a prerequisite, a voice with an odd cadence, accompanied by the crackling pop of psychic discharge, resonated once more.
"I believe I may be of some assistance."
"Eldrad Ulthran, Aeldari Farseer. You have once again trespassed into a space you were not authorized to enter. Am I to interpret this as an act of contempt toward the Federation?"
Eldrad, who had only just seen Yvraine and her retinue off, had utilized psychic transposition to return. This time, Axion resolved to administer a measure of discipline.
A low, subtle hum resonated through the chamber. Within a heartbeat, every vestige of psychic energy within the compartment was violently siphoned away. For a moment, everyone felt as if a legion of Sisters of Silence were standing in their midst, leaving an inexplicable, yawning void, a sensation more profound than any even the most potent Sisters of Silence in the Primarchs' memories had ever exuded.
Eldrad did not even have the chance to speak before that suffocating hollowness engulfed him. His formidable psychic powers began to drain away with alarming velocity, driving him to the verge of mental collapse. Across the bulkheads, countless devices constructed of nanites flickered with an eerie, rhythmic light.
"Psychic... vacuum..."
The intense, visceral discomfort brought Eldrad to his knees. The four Primarchs, by contrast, remained largely unfazed. As the hum gradually subsided, energy flooded back into the room, and Eldrad gasped like a fish cast back into water after nearing expiration on the shore. The sensation of being so thoroughly hollowed out left him rattled. Though he had lived for eons, he had never truly experienced the era of the Federation; consequently, he lacked a certain reverence for the pinnacles of human ingenuity.
Lion El'Jonson looked on, somewhat satisfied by the machine's actions. He held no mercy for xenos, and though he had found the sensation unpleasant, seeing the alien suffer far more than himself left him with no complaints.
Vulkan, however, remained detached. Though this xenos had assisted him in the past and perhaps even aided the Emperor, the fact that he had masqueraded as a human to exploit Vulkan's trust and friendship left a bitter aftertaste. Vulkan despised duplicity, and he detested being manipulated even more. Like a certain brother he loathed from eras past, such behavior was simply unacceptable to him.
"Although the Imperial Regent Guilliman has pledged to pay your ransom, that does not grant you a mandate to treat this vessel as a thoroughfare, Aeldari!" Axion's voice was cold, possessing a strange, singular authority.
From the shadows, a TR-09 Morlanad Assassin-automaton flickered into existence from the void. The diminutive mechanical killer's blade shimmered with a lethal, hypnotic glow.
"State your reason for returning. If you attempt any further folly, I am authorized by Federation protocol to execute you immediately. A xenos who repeatedly violates Federation statutes is no longer protected under the armistice, 'Farseer'."
Eldrad attempted to stand, but the TR-09 was so small that the tall Farseer found the motion awkward, eventually opting to sit cross-legged on the deck instead.
"I know of one among your Primarch brothers, loyal to the Emperor, who has become quite notorious within the Warp. I can guide you to him. As for the prophecy Yvraine brought you, it is unrelated to me. Whether you choose to believe it is your own prerogative."
Eldrad's words left the four Primarchs exchanging glances. They had never imagined that any of their brothers could have gained notoriety within the Immaterium. The Lion, meanwhile, fixed his gaze upon Eldrad's helm, as if attempting to peer through the mask.
Eldrad met the Lion's stare through his visor before speaking. "Lion El'Jonson, do you recall the brother you questioned for so long, and whom you never truly understood, ten millennia ago?"
The Lion rested a hand on the pommel of the blade at his waist, his eyes narrowing. "Are you attempting to sow discord amongst us?"
Vulkan's mind raced, recalling the brothers once chided by the Lion. A sequence of names surfaced in his thoughts. Some had betrayed the Imperium and were long dead; others had lingered in the Warp, twisted into extensions of the Chaos Gods. After carefully weighing the few names that remained, Vulkan spoke with guarded uncertainty.
"Do you speak of Corax?"
Eldrad nodded to Vulkan. "Indeed. Corax."
"What has become of him?" Guilliman asked, his tone urgent.
Both Vulkan and Guilliman held Corax in high regard. Guilliman respected the discipline and loyalty to the Emperor displayed by Corax and his sons, while Vulkan resonated with his brother's core philosophies and convictions. During the Great Crusade and the Heresy, Vulkan and Corax had fought side-by-side for extended periods; the bond between them surpassed that of most others.
After Isstvan V, it had been a long time before he saw his brother again. The moment they met, Vulkan had felt the heart-rending agony radiating from him. His sons had been nearly eradicated, his attempts to rectify the tragedy had been undermined by Alpha Legion machinations, and ultimately, he had been forced to consign those wretched children to the dark himself.
Vulkan empathized with Corax's pain; he too had struggled with the genetic mutations of his own kin. The reason he had not returned to the Imperium sooner was, in part, his inability to face those mutated sons. Corax had been able to steel himself to destroy the mutated Raven Guard, but Vulkan could not bring himself to do it. Return to the Imperium only to personally execute his mutated kin? He would sooner welcome death.
As Guilliman questioned him, Eldrad's instinct was to spout cryptic, winding rhetoric, but noting the diminutive machine lurking nearby, he suppressed the urge and reorganized his thoughts.
"Corax has embraced the pure darkness. He has been lingering outside the Temple of the Eternal Word in the Warp."
"The Temple of the Eternal Word? What is that?" the Primarchs asked in unison, bewildered.
"It is a fortress constructed by the Word Bearers within the Immaterium. Corax has been hunting the Word Bearers and other traitors to the Imperium incessantly, and he even defeated Lorgar, who had ascended to the service of the Dark Gods, in single combat."
"At the critical moment, the traitor fled. It is whispered that twisted, black shadows have recently been sighted near the Word Bearers' main staging grounds."
"It seems unable to accept his failure, Lorgar retreated to his temple to brood for an eternity. That incident has made the Word Bearers a laughingstock throughout the Warp."
Axion controlled the machine, his artificial ocular sensor rotating slightly as he locked onto Eldrad. "How do you possess this knowledge? What does it mean to 'embrace the pure darkness'? According to existing data, the Aeldari avoid all contact with matters involving the Warp to prevent attracting the gaze of the Ruinous Powers."
Eldrad tilted his head toward the ceiling. Although his expression remained hidden behind his helm, he radiated an air of unfathomable mystery.
"I am the pathfinder of the Farseer's art. While I cannot directly prophesy the machinations of absolute evil, a single Primarch is not enough to confound me."
The TR-09's shimmering monomolecular blade rose a fraction higher. The machine asked in a cold, sterile tone:
"And have you foreseen your own end, Seer?"
——————
If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)