The air in the vast, organic chamber was cool and carried the strange, sweet scent of living wood and bioluminescent fungi. Kochav and Bergelmir, with their hands still raised in a gesture of surrender, stood amidst their nervous captors.
Before them,
a high, raised stand dominated the chamber, indicating some kind of audience or ceremonial space. The walls pulsed with soft, ethereal light from bioluminescent fungi, casting shifting shadows over the curving root systems that formed natural arches and supports.
From a shadowed end of the chamber, a figure stepped forward. As it moved, the fungi along its path seemed to light up in a cascade of soft illumination, highlighting the unnatural grace of a being far beyond human. Its feet were just beyond the light that was casting on the floor in the middle.
Everyone's gazes were fixed on the shadowed figure, which exuded an undeniable, ancient authority.
"Monkey? You must got us confused wit—"
PEW!
Before Kochav could finish, a whistling sound cut the air.
An energy bolt, glowing with contained power, flew towards him with terrifying speed, only to be stopped abruptly by the shimmering, translucent barrier of his psychic shield.
It flared momentarily before dissolving into crackling motes of light. The impact didn't deter his ignorance.
From the shadows, the barrel of a gun could now be seen, smoking faintly, confirming the source of the sudden attack.
The figure slowly emerged from the shadow, revealing an Aeldari clad in sleek, red segmented armor. Small, glowing turquoise and purple gems pulsed softly on its form, and a golden, stylized symbol adorned its chest. In one hand, it effortlessly held a highly ornate Ranger Long Rifle. An Autarch
"As I suspected, you possess a spark, primate." She continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of disdain,
"a dangerous flicker of the Empyrean. And you," her rifle turned slightly towards the towering Grey Knight,
"a grotesque living construct of a dead god." Her last words were spoken with a chilling, almost disgusted emphasis, as if addressing something deeply offensive to her refined senses.
Kochav lowered his hand fully, letting it hang loosely by his side.
"Never have I heard this much insults in a greeting," he stated, a wry, almost amused note in his voice despite the severity of their situation.
He then looked over to Bergelmir, his gaze challenging the stoic Space Marine.
"Have you, Astartes?"
Bergelmir, a mountain of grey power armour, simply crossed his massive arms across his chest. He didn't speak, but a slow, deliberate shake of his helmeted head served as his answer.
The Aeldari walked forward, fully bathed in the chamber's soft, bioluminescent light. Her features, previously hidden by shadow, were now starkly clear: an elegant, almost ethereal face, with sharp, delicate features, and striking dark lips.
Her rich brown hair, intricately styled, was pulled back from her face in a coiled braid, revealing her distinctly pointed ears.
Her eyes, however, remained difficult to discern from this distance, still holding a deep, unreadable quality.
Kochav's eyes sharpened as he smirked, the grim lines on his face twisting into a mocking challenge.
"Greeting, lass knife-ears, the insultant of the Materium, a daughter of the dead empire and a creator of a chaos god."
He finished, adding a slight, theatrical bow that emphasized his derision.
For the first time since her emergence, a flicker of something broke through her perfect composure. The subtle psychic pressure in the room, previously a mere hum, sharpened, a low, barely perceptible hum of raw power.
Her head did not tilt, but remained fixed on Kochav, her obscured eyes seemingly piercing through his very being.
The mention of "dead empire" was a historical wound, but "creator of a chaos god" was a direct, devastating strike at the core of Aeldari dread and shame.
Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her Ranger Long Rifle. The Abhumans and Kroot shuffled nervously, their guttural murmurs dying to a fearful silence as they sensed the shift in the air.
Then—
Pew, Pew, Pew, Pew, Pew, Pew—
A rapid barrage erupted from her Ranger Long Rifle, directed precisely at Kochav's position. Each shimmering energy bolt streaked towards him, aiming for where his head had been moments ago, but all of them were met by the renewed, flaring brilliance of his psychic barrier.
Hizzz.
The air around Kochav's shield hissed as the bolts dissipated, leaving behind only the faintest wisp of ozone.
Now,
with the sudden burst of violent emotion, the last vestiges of shadow seemed to peel away from her face. Her composure fractured, her elegant features contorted in a momentary snarl.
Kochav saw her eyes clearly now: a piercing hazel that burned with cold fury, and her lips were indeed drawn back, revealing gritted teeth.
"Your boldness will be your downfall, Mon'keigh."
—
"I simply said what I presumed," Kochav retorted, his smirk unwavering,
"in Aeldari tongue, as 'nice to meet you too'."
The Aeldari's jaw tightened visibly, her gritted teeth now more pronounced. The raw, cold fury in her hazel eyes intensified, burning with the contained force of a star.
She took a single, controlled step forward, her movements still impossibly fluid, but now charged with a predatory tension.
The primitives around them recoiled further, instinctively sensing the sheer, unbridled wrath emanating from their leader.
For a fleeting instant, the strategic mind of the Autarch seemed poised to unleash overwhelming force, to simply end this irritating primate.
But then,
as quickly as it had surged, the raw, uncontrolled fury receded. Her features, though still taut, relaxed minutely. The psychic shimmer around her faded, leaving only the cold, sharp presence of immense self-control.
Her hazel eyes, still burning, now held a glint of something else: an almost clinical assessment, tinged with a dangerous curiosity.
This primate, this insolent creature, was not breaking, merely pushing. And perhaps, that defiance, that sheer will, might be a resource in itself.
"Such crude humor, primate," She stated, her voice now flat and dangerously calm, devoid of the earlier fury, making it almost more chilling.
"A mere echo of the primitives who birthed you."
—
"I take it that you are the leader of this band?" Kochav countered, unfazed by her renewed disdain.
"Unless there is another xeno with a superiority complex hiding somewhere."
Her piercing hazel eyes remained fixed on him, betraying no immediate reaction to the taunt.
She allowed a moment of silent consideration, her posture still, her rifle held with effortless grace. The Abhumans and Kroot shifted nervously, looking to her for a sign.
"Leader?"
She stated, her voice cutting through the silence with renewed authority, yet with a trace of something beyond mere command.
"I am the ruler of the underwoods. I am the peacemaker."
Her gaze solidified, locking onto Kochav's.
"You will address me as Shadowgaze."
As she spoke, a ripple went through the assembled Abhumans and Kroot. With a coordinated rustle of crude armour and leathery hides, all of them knelt down, their heads bowed, acknowledging her words with a profound and immediate reverence.
Shadowgaze's gaze, now imbued with the weight of centuries of quiet rule, swept over them, then returned to Kochav, sharper than before.
"For centuries, I ended wars on this planet, mended tribal discord. Until your brethren showed up and threatened all I have built."
Her words hung in the air, a clear accusation, shifting the narrative from a simple encounter to a confrontation steeped in a long, unseen history.
"Oh are we using title now?" Kochav retorted, his smirk still firmly in place, not flinching from her intense gaze.
"In that case, The Dead Rogue is at your service."
He extended his right hand towards Bergelmir, a gesture that Bergelmir met with an unyielding, silent stare.
"And this," Kochav finished after a deliberate pause, pulling his hand back as Bergelmir remained motionless,
"is The Grey Knight."
His voice was imbued with a theatrical flourish, as if introducing two renowned gladiators, subtly mocking the Aeldari's demand for formal address with his own chosen, defiant titles.
Shadowgaze's lips thinned further, her eyes flashing with an almost imperceptible spark of irritation at his continued insolence.
"I do not care for your fabricated, false name," she stated, her voice flat and dismissive, cutting through his theatrics like a shard of crystal.
"Only in your abilities."
—
"So, a cooperative then," Kochav said, his smirk twisting into something almost genial, a stark contrast to the tension in the chamber.
He gestured vaguely at the kneeling aliens, their crude weapons still held aloft.
"Would you mind make them lower their big toothpicks, not that they are threatening or anything, I'm just concerned that they might be tired."
A flicker, almost imperceptible, crossed Shadowgaze's features. It might have been surprise, or perhaps a hint of exasperated amusement, quickly suppressed.
The sheer audacity of the human, demanding comfort for her armed subjects after such a volatile exchange, was a novelty. Her gaze lingered on Kochav for a long moment, assessing the blend of insolence and pragmatism.
Then, without a word, she made a subtle gesture with her free hand, a flick of her wrist that was barely visible.
Immediately,
with a collective rustle, the Beastmen and Kroot lowered their weapons, resting them against their bodies or on the ground. They remained kneeling, but the tension in their ranks visibly eased.
Shadowgaze's gaze returned to Kochav, her eyes now holding a sharper, more direct challenge.
"Now that your 'concerns' are addressed, Mon'keigh," she said, her voice still flat, but with an undeniable edge.
"We shall discuss about our aligning interests."
Her gaze then drifted to Kochav's empty left sleeve, lingering there with a cool, clinical assessment.
"Seeing as your craft was shot down, even left you crippled, you must be truly nauseous even to your kind." Her voice held a note of dispassionate observation, though the word 'nauseous' seemed to hang in the air.
"Well, let's say this is not by choice." Kochav responded, his gaze hers squarely.
He raised his left arm, offering a brief, almost casual wave of his stump, the empty sleeve swaying.
"As you say, I am nauseous. And yet, I am capable of getting rid of our shared enemies." His voice was low, laced with a hardened conviction, the sarcasm replaced by a cold, unwavering determination.
Bergelmir remained a silent, unmoving sentinel, his blue visor reflecting the bioluminescent glow, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Shadowgaze's expression remained impassive, though her hazel eyes seemed to bore into Kochav's with an almost predatory intensity.
"Our demand is simple, you 'get rid of them' and leave."
Her words were stark, leaving no room for misinterpretation, laying out an absolute ultimatum for their proposed "cooperation."
Kochav's smirk finally faltered, replaced by a more serious, calculating expression.
"I have a question," he said, the shift in his tone subtle but noticeable, indicating a genuine concern breaking through his usual bravado.
"Have you seen other survivors from the crash?" He then offered descriptions,
"A bald woman in golden armor and a small man in black uniform."
Shadowgaze's head tilted infinitesimally, her gaze remaining fixed on Kochav. The abrupt change of topic, while perhaps expected from a human, was still an interruption to her established terms.
The question, however, held a new weight – the presence of more humans, particularly one matching the description of a warlock hunter.
Her eyes, which seemed to pierce through him, now held a flicker of deeper interest, a silent calculation unfolding behind them.
The silence stretched, broken only by the distant, alien hum of the chamber.
"The fate of your comrades are not our concern," Shadowgaze stated, her voice flat and cold, dismissing his inquiry without hesitation.
"Two less Mon'keighs in the galaxy bring more benefit than harm."
Her gaze hardened further, cutting off any further attempt to leverage the missing crew. Her focus was absolute, returning to the core of her proposal.
—
Kochav exhaled sharply, a sound that seemed to scrape against the organic silence of the chamber. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his brows narrowed into a furious line, his jaw clenched.
For a moment,
raw, unbridled rage flickered in his eyes, a desperate concern for his lost crew overriding his usual composure.
He started to speak, a growl forming in his throat, but then his eyes darted back to Bergelmir.
The Grey Knight stood unmoving, a pillar of stoic resolve, his posture utterly un-deterred.
The silent, unwavering presence seemed to ground Kochav, pulling him back from the brink of a reckless outburst.
The rage in his eyes visibly receded, his expression smoothing, though the tension in his shoulders remained.
"Why do you ask in something you already know?" Shadowgaze stated.
—
He took another deep breath, forcing calm into his frame.
"Alright, but for your information," Kochav began, his voice now low and measured, stripped of its earlier flippancy, focusing on their new reality.
"The enemies must remain oblivious to our survival." His gaze was steady, meeting Shadowgaze's without a blink.
"Because we, unlike these primitives," he waved a dismissive hand towards the kneeling Beastmen and Kroot,
"pose real threats to them, so you will need to lend us a hand to reach your goal."
Shadowgaze's expression was unreadable as she processed his words. The faint, almost imperceptible nod of her head, however, was telling.
"For a Mon'keigh, you are not as dumb as you are ignorant. I am impressed."
Her voice, still laced with that inherent Aeldari superiority, now carried a hint of grudging acknowledgement, a rare and chilling compliment.
"Very well, we will discuss this further, follow him to your quarters."
She finished, and with a graceful sweep of her hand, gestured forward the same felinid Abhuman from earlier, its lithe form stepping out of the kneeling ranks.
The felinid, its black uniform blending seamlessly with the shadows, turned and began to pad silently towards an opening in the chamber wall.
Kochav and Bergelmir followed, their heavy boots making little sound on the spongy, bioluminescent floor.
"For a one-armed rogue psyker," Bergelmir muttered, his deep voice a low rumble from behind his visor,
"I was expecting worse."
—
"Well, we are in this situation because of a certain Astartes put me in command,"
Kochav retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he glanced back at the towering Grey Knight.
"Hmm." Bergelmir emitted a low grunt, almost in amusement, a rare sound from the usually unflappable warrior.
The felinid escort led them deeper into the living architecture of the Aeldari domain. The soft glow from the walls continued to illuminate their path, revealing intricate patterns of woven roots and crystalline growths that seemed to pulse with an inner life.
The air grew progressively warmer, humid and rich with unfamiliar floral scents, a stark contrast to the welcome they recieved.
Corridors spiraled and branched, seemingly without pattern, yet the felinid moved with unerring certainty, its lithe form disappearing and reappearing in the shifting light.
Bergelmir's heavy footsteps echoed faintly, a rhythmic counterpoint to Kochav's lighter tread, as they ventured further into the heart of this alien world.
Finally,
the felinid halted before an archway that widened into a truly vast chamber.
But as Kochav stepped through, his expression, which had just begun to relax, tightened into a grimace. The room was immense, its organic walls curving into a high dome, yet it was utterly empty.
No furniture, no soft glowing beds, no amenities whatsoever. It was nothing more than a colossal, barren space, echoing and cold despite the ambient warmth, feeling more like a pen for beasts or a prison cell than any promised living quarters.
The felinid turned, its large, black eyes unblinking, before silently backing away and the glowing archway sealed behind them with a soft, organic hiss.
A deep sigh escaped Kochav. He glanced around the empty space, the faint bioluminescent hum of the walls the only sound.
"What was I expecting?" he retorted to the silent room, then lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the rough bark floor, his empty sleeve draped across his lap.
Bergelmir, meanwhile, moved with his characteristic measured deliberation. He approached one of the curving walls and leaned against it, his massive, grey-clad form a stark silhouette against the soft glow.
He crossed his armored arms over his chest, his helmeted head turning slowly to survey their new confines.
"What is our next plan?" he rumbled, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
—
Kochav looked up at the towering Astartes, a faint, knowing smirk returning to his face.
"We wait, when I asked if she was the only Aeldari here, I sensed her sorrow."
"She was trying to mask it." His voice dropped, becoming contemplative.
"And she only mentioned 'Their demand,' not hers. She will come to bargain."
—
A day passed,
Kochav, unable to sleep, was haunted by the vision of the fallen Valkyrie, contemplating. He just scratched the floor out of boredom, literally reading "I am bored" into the dust.
Two days passed.
The tiredness and boredom finally hit him. He walked over to the meditating Grey Knight, tempted to remove the helm to see the face of Bergelmir, but before he could try, Bergelmir's deep voice rumbled,
"Don't even think about it, or you will lose more than one arm, Rogue." He was fully aware, despite his passive state.
Kochav sighed and rolled around on the floor. After a while, his energy finally depleted, his eyelids felt heavy, and a calm darkness filled his vision.
Then,
a dream.
He was standing in the dark abyss. He sighed, although no sounds were heard. Perhaps this place, this dream, he had visited so many times that it had become familiar.
In the calmness of solitude, he sat down, reached his hand into the ground, but it just phased through it like thick black fog.
He tried again, and again, faster, and more impatiently.
Anger was visible on his face as he tried repeatedly, but nothing came up.
Then he screamed, void of sounds, although the silence sharply pierced his ears. It hurt so much that he covered them.
But his hands, one of them felt different. It didn't feel like he was in control of it. In the first glance, it looked just like his, then with a blink, it mutated.
The same one he'd cut down before. He blinked again and it was back to normal.
He slowly turned it around—
There was...
an eye in his palm, its gaze following his, its presence sending a chill through his bones. All he could hear in this deafened abyss was its intention.
It sought to corrupt, to promise, to guide him. He refused to listen, used his right hand to pluck out the eye from its socket.
It shrieked in agony at first, then twisted to laughter and mockery.
He became furious, formed a Psychic blade with his right hand, and with a quick, swift motion, pulled it down toward the mutated han—
CLACK!
A sound of blade hitting something.
—
He felt a presence, real, not a dream, and opened his eyes.
What he saw was his psychic blade directly at his neck, although it was stopped.
Bergelmir stood over him, his fist raised. A force shield was placed right in front of the blade.
He looked to Bergelmir and asked,
"Am I cursed?"
"Yes." Bergelmir answered firmly.
—
"Am I in control?" Kochav asked again.
—
"You tell me, what is your conviction?" Bergelmir shot back with a question.
—
"To kill all of Xarcarions, and live for the ones I lost." Kochav's answer was unbreakable.
Bergelmir lowered his fist.
"Using daemon instrument to cut down daemon, is common in my chapter." He glanced at Kochav's regenerated mutated forearm.
"But you must remain true, your conviction is the roots of your soul. As long as you remember it, no temptation nor Boons can corrupt you."
"What are you, Rogue?" His question was a stark clarification.
—
"I am vengeance, I am Xarcarion's doom." Kochav answered, unwavering.
—
"Hm." Bergelmir grunted.
"I do not judge your goals or your means to get it, as long as you remain uncorruptable."
Kochav nodded and sighed, looking at his left arm, almost accepting the curse.
"Though, I don't think our Xenos friends will like your new arm." Bergelmir muttered, more casually.
—
"Right." Kochav muttered, before grabbing the forearm, and pulled it from his arm. The flesh, sinew clung to his skin; it resisted for a moment.
But through his sheer will, it came off, dripping black oil-like substance from it.
Then it disintegrated.
"Sigh, so what am I supposed to do exactly?" Kochav asked.
—
Bergelmir just shrugged, "Control it. Command it."
—
"Pretty blasphemous coming from an Astartes." Kochav stated.
—
"Or we could try to cut off the whole arm?" Bergelmir stated, crossing his arms.
Kochav just gave him a stare.
For the moment, the mutated arm was gone.
But then, the third day of their confinement.
Kochav woke up, scratched his face... with the same mutated hand. It cut him slightly.
He sighed, and muttered to Bergelmir,
"I think I know how it works a little now."
Bergelmir looked toward Kochav, waiting for him to continue.
"It seemed to manifest when I am unconscious." Kochav finished before grabbing the fruits from the opening in the cell.
—
"A logical suspicion." Bergelmir stated, then a paused.
"But, what was it that you said," his deep voice rumbled, echoing slightly in the immense space,
"she will come to bargain?" There was a subtle edge in his tone, a hint of doubt.
Kochav, who had been idly tracing patterns on the smooth floor with his finger, let out a long sigh.
He looked up at the Grey Knight, a faint, almost mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Three."
Bergelmir watched him, unmoving.
"Two."
The air in the chamber felt suddenly still, expectant.
"One."
—
With a soft, organic hiss, a section of the curving wall opposite them slowly slid open, revealing a dimly lit passage beyond.
The sudden change, after days of unchanging confinement, was a stark invitation, tempting their boredom to follow where it led.
"Hm." Bergelmir grunted in satisfaction, a low, resonant sound from within his helmet.
"After you, Rogue."
—
Kochav rose from the floor, brushing non-existent dust from his trousers. A weary, almost triumphant smirk touched his lips.
He spared a quick glance at Bergelmir, who remained a formidable, unmoving presence by the wall, then turned towards the newly revealed path.
He looked down, to his mutated left forearm.
Sighed and pulled it out again, without another word, he stepped into the dimness, the Grey Knight falling in silently behind him.
The air in the newly opened hallway was noticeably refreshing, cooler and carrying the faint, sweet scent of blooming bioluminescence. Though initially narrow, the passage seemed to subtly expand as Bergelmir's massive form moved into it, adapting to his immense bulk with an unsettling, organic flexibility.
The walls pulsed softly with a gentle light, and the space was filled with luminous, ethereal fireflies, their tiny forms drifting and weaving, casting a delicate glow and emitting a faint, almost imperceptible droning hum that filled the quiet space.
The ethereal fireflies continued to drift around them as Kochav posed the question to Bergelmir, his voice a low murmur in the gently glowing hallway.
"Do you know what kind of Aeldari she is?" Kochav asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
"She struck me as no mere rabble, not that I have ever seen one before."
—
"An Asuryani. The Eldar of the Stars." Bergelmir muttered, his deep voice resonating softly in the enclosed space.
"Clad in red, possibly an Autarch. A leader of a warhost. She has to be quite old, perhaps older than me." He paused, his gaze scanning the ethereal hallway.
"In order to lead, they have to walk what they call the 'Path,' some kind of rigorous training, I suppose. Which makes it strange to see a commander like her here all alone."
—
"Her warp signature..." Kochav mused, his voice trailing off as he focused inward for a moment, then looked at Bergelmir.
"It's nothing like us, not the raw, uncontrolled scream, nor even the hammered-down discipline like yours."
"Hers is a beautiful, blinding flame that felt cold to the touch of my mind."
"It's immense power, sure, but utterly contained, flowing through channels I can barely perceive. And alien. So utterly alien that it makes my own senses buzz."
—
Kochav exhaled slowly.
"But when I shift my focus to the very edge of her soul, past that chilling blaze, I heard the sorrows of thousands of souls. That's why I knew she was hiding something, and why she'll be back to talk."
He continued to walk, his gaze distant, as if perceiving something beyond the immediate reality of the glowing hallway.
"The other thing is that, I can feel presences like hers all over this place, how strange," Kochav muttered, a new note of perplexity in his voice.
—
They continued their silent trek through the twisting, bioluminescent passage until they reached another archway, this one completely overgrown with thick, glowing vines that pulsed with the same soft light as the walls.
As they approached, the vines writhed and parted like living curtains, slowly retracting to reveal the chamber beyond.
Inside,
the air was warmer, rich with the scent of damp earth and verdant life. It was another vast space, but this one was far from empty. The room was filled with potted plants, vibrant flowers, and unknown herbs of various sizes, their leaves and petals glowing softly in the ambient light.
In the very middle of the chamber, a calm pond shimmered, its surface holding small, glowing dots that drifted slowly, looking like miniature stars in a captured night sky.
It was from this very pond that the immense presences Kochav had felt earlier now unmistakably emanated, a deep, psychic resonance unlike anything he had encountered.
—
In a corner of this vibrant chamber, Shadowgaze herself could be seen, her red segmented armor a striking contrast against the green foliage as she meticulously tended to some of the potted plants.
As she worked, a soft, ethereal melody filled the chamber—an unknown lullaby, ancient and haunting, both soothing and profoundly sad. As the final notes faded, the plant's veins she had been touching gleamed slightly, a soft luminescence tracing their delicate patterns, before slowly fading away.
Her work complete, Shadowgaze straightened, turning with fluid grace to meet the gaze of the two Mon'keighs standing at the archway.
Her hazel eyes, though calm, held an unnerving intensity as she spoke.
"Your presences taint this sacred chamber," she stated, her voice a low, resonant hum.
She paused, her gaze sweeping from Kochav to Bergelmir and back to the glowing pond.
"Nevertheless, all must hear what we will discuss."
—
"I take it that, 'All' doesn't include your pets upstairs?" Kochav muttered, his voice dry and laced with his usual defiance.
Shadowgaze closed her eyes, a slow, deliberate act. She took a deep, measured breath, the subtle tension in her posture visibly easing as she recomposed herself.
When her hazel eyes opened again, they were colder, more resolute.
"You will refrain from making further humorous remarks," she commanded, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.
It felt more like a genuine request than that of her usual Aeldari bickering.
—
Kochav understood.
This place, with its vibrant life and the deep presences emanating from the pond, must be profoundly important to her. His gaze sharpened, cutting past the sarcasm.
"So what is your demand?"
Shadowgaze's gaze swept over the lush flora surrounding them, pausing for a moment on the shimmering pond.
"My demand— our demand," she corrected herself, her voice now carrying a collective weight.
"When you leave, you will take us with you."
—
"Then you must know what we want in return," Kochav spoke, his tone firm and direct.
Shadowgaze inclined her head, a graceful nod.
"In the past few days, I have looked through the Woodways." Her eyes held Kochav's, a hint of something unreadable in their depths.
"I looked for your comrades, and I found them. Alive."
—
"Where?" Kochav demanded, his voice suddenly sharp with urgency.
—
"The other side of the planet," she answered, her voice even, betraying no emotion.
"Then let's go get them," Kochav stated, his gaze unwavering as he met her eyes, a spark of renewed determination in their depths.
—
"Impossible, for now," she answered, her gaze unwavering as she met his.
—
"Why not? You said you are the ruler of this planet." Kochav asked, his voice tinged with rising impatience.
"Wrong, I only own the underwoods." Shadowgaze stated, her voice flat and precise.
"It is far more effective to lead a manageable warhost than a swarm of untrained barbarians."
Her hazel eyes flicked towards Kochav and then to Bergelmir, the last words clearly intended for them.
—
"I heard enough of your xeno's games," Kochav muttered, his patience snapping,
"I will find them, even without your help." He turned abruptly, taking a decisive step towards the archway, clearly intending to leave.
—
Just as he moved, a massive, armoured hand clamped firmly onto his shoulder. Bergelmir, silent until now, extended his arm, stopping Kochav mid-stride.
"The Xeno is right, Rogue," Bergelmir's deep voice rumbled, his tone unwavering.
"It is impossible for now, but it is good enough to hear that they are alive and not captured."
He then gestured vaguely into the vibrant chamber.
"Besides, how long would it take for us to get there by foot? You see how the locals navigate; we need their help."
—
Kochav exhaled slowly, the fight leaving his shoulders. He crouched down slightly, hands resting on his knees, clearly stumped but still determined to extract something from this precarious negotiation.
"Why do you want to take plants with you anyway?" he asked, his voice now devoid of sarcasm, replaced with genuine curiosity.
—
Shadowgaze's gaze was steady.
"It is complicated for a Mon'keigh like you to understand by words," she simply answered, her tone carrying an ancient patience.
Without further explanation, she walked with fluid grace to one of the large potted plants near the shimmering pond. Reaching her hand into the rich soil, she carefully retrieved a small, faintly glowing gem.
It was a soulstone, shimmering with an internal light.
Holding the precious object in her open palm, her gaze returned to them, sharp and unwavering.
"Now, do you understand the stakes in which I'm risking with an impure breed like you?" she asked, the silent question hanging heavy in the air.
Kochav's eyes narrowed, fixed on the gem. Within its depths, he could discern a small, flickering flame, an undeniable Aeldari soul, contained and preserved.
He understood her situation a little more now, though he didn't ask for further explanation.
—
"As long as I get my comrades back, I don't care what your goal is," Kochav stated, his voice flat but firm, his focus singular.
—
Shadowgaze's hazel eyes sharpened with clear irritation.
"Naturally, this matter is none of your concern." She turned, walking towards the archway through which they had entered, her back momentarily to them.
"I have indulged your crude sensibilities enough," she stated, her voice now colder, almost clinical.
"You will return to your cell." She paused at the arch, turning back to face them, a swift gesture indicating the illuminated passage.
"You will converse with my aid, Rouar, regarding your plan of assault." Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, locked onto Kochav's.
"Understand this: you now have full autonomy within my domain. Do not, however, mistake this for freedom to act without restraint. Do not abuse it."
Kochav slowly straightened, a flicker of determination igniting in his eyes at the unexpected declaration.
He fully intended to make the most of this newfound power, turning and exiting through the same hallway they'd entered.
Beside him, Bergelmir remained a pillar of silent support, following suit without a word.
—
Behind them, at the center of the shimmering pond, Shadowgaze watched them leave.
Her gaze then settled on the water's surface, reflecting her own face and the dilemma etched upon it.