Chapter X: The God's Gambit
The great halls of the Imperator Somnium hummed with power, its golden lumen-strips casting long shadows over the gathered lords of the Imperium. Seated upon a throne of psychic radiance, the Emperor of Mankind gazed upon His chosen—Malcador, the Primarchs, and the greatest minds of the Imperium.
The time had come to extend His dominion beyond mankind alone. The Aeldari, fractured and dying, would soon kneel before Him—not as their conqueror, but as their savior.
And it would begin with Isha.
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Standing before His gathered warlords, the Emperor's presence alone was enough to bend reality. His golden eyes swept across the room, lingering on each of His Primarchs.
"My sons, the future of humanity is secured. The Thunder Warriors are reforged, Mars bends the knee, and our Legions grow in strength. But this is not enough."
Silence filled the chamber. Even Malcador, ever the confidant, waited in stillness.
"The Aeldari, though broken, still possess knowledge, technology, and power that could serve our cause. We will not waste our might in an extermination war when they can be brought to heel under our banner. And I shall give them the one thing they could never achieve themselves."
A golden projection of the Warp materialized above them, swirling with unspeakable horrors, before narrowing upon one darkened plane: Nurgle's Garden. A twisted parody of life, where filth and rot festered unchecked.
"She is there," the Emperor stated. "Isha, last of the Aeldari gods. The Seers of the Aeldari know this truth but are too weak to act upon it. But we are not."
There was a tangible shift in the room. Jaghatai Khan leaned forward, intrigued. Sanguinius, ever the noble soul, understood at once. Lorgar, whose faith burned brightest, knelt where he stood.
"You seek to break a Chaos God's hold on a deity?" Malcador finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with calculated doubt. "A bold gambit."
"A necessary one," the Emperor replied. "By freeing Isha, I will not only shatter Nurgle's grip but reshape the Aeldari's destiny forever. I will take her as my consort, and through her, bring the Aeldari under my rule."
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The halls of Olympus Mons vibrated with mechanical hymns as the Fabricator-General of Mars knelt before the holographic projection of the Emperor. The Mechanicum, once wary of Terra's dominance, had fully embraced His divinity.
"My Lord, the Forge Worlds stand ready," the Fabricator-General intoned, his voice filled with reverence. "We have analyzed the xenos Webway. If you truly intend to wage war in the Immaterium, we will craft the means to breach the Garden of Nurgle."
The Emperor nodded. "Then begin preparations. I will need weapons and armor capable of withstanding the rot of the Plaguefather."
"The Machine God's will is clear," the Fabricator-General replied. "We shall create artifacts worthy of your crusade."
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Across the dying Craftworlds, the Farseers' visions shattered into chaos.
"Isha… salvation… the God of Mankind seeks her!"
Among them, the councils divided. Some saw the Emperor as a false god, a being of arrogance who would only enslave them. Others saw the truth:
"The Mon-keigh Emperor will succeed where we have failed. If he rescues Isha, she will be bound to him by fate… and we will have no choice but to serve him."
On Commorragh, Vect listened with a calculating grin. "If the Mon-keigh wish to wage war against a Chaos God… let them. If they fail, they are removed. If they succeed, we will have a new god to manipulate."
And in the depths of the Webway, a single soul stirred, its pain unending.
Isha heard His name.
For the first time in millennia, hope stirred in the heart of a goddess.
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The Emperor turned to His sons, His armies, His empire.
"In one year, we march upon the Realm of Nurgle. Isha will be freed. The Aeldari will kneel. Chaos will tremble."
The Golden Host would descend upon the Immaterium itself.
And the God-Emperor would claim His divine throne.
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