The Obelisk moved like a phantom through the void, its Geller Field powered down, its engines running on minimal output. It had left the well-charted routes of the Imperium behind, navigating into a forgotten sector of space known as the Graveyard of Hesperus. It was a vast, silent nebula of stellar dust and particulate ice, filled with the drifting, skeletal remains of a thousand warships from a war fought before the Emperor's light had even reached this segment of the galaxy. It was a place of ghosts and silence, the perfect location for a meeting that could never officially happen.
The tension on the bridge was a palpable force. Every crew member, from the lowest servitor to the Lord Inquisitor himself, knew the profound risk they were taking. Dealing with the Eldar was a heresy of convenience, a pact with a serpent that was always coiled to strike. For three days they had waited, adrift in the cosmic tomb, awaiting a reply to Varrus's astropathic plea.
Rimuru spent the time in quiet contemplation, processing the new, bizarre threat he faced. Ciel had been running countless simulations.
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"So they're a problem that gets stronger the more they believe in something," Rimuru mused. "That's troublesome."
It was on the fourth day that they arrived.
There was no flash of translation from the Warp. No warning on the long-range augurs. One moment, the viewscreen showed only the silent wrecks of the Graveyard. The next, a flotilla of Eldar ships was there, having emerged from the hidden pathways of the Webway.
They were vessels of breathtaking, alien beauty. Unlike the brutal, angular ships of the Imperium, the Eldar craft were sleek, organic things of curving lines and soaring solar sails that caught the faint, ghostly light of the nebula. They were forged not from metal, but from psycho-conductive wraithbone, and they moved with the silent, predatory grace of sharks gliding through a deep ocean.
A moment later, a message came. It was not a crackle over the vox, but a cool, clear, and impossibly ancient voice that bloomed directly in the minds of Varrus and Rimuru.
"They are here," Varrus announced to the bridge. He turned to his retinue. "Kael, you are with me. Captain Arken, you have command of this vessel in my absence. Defend it with your life."
"And if the Eldar prove treacherous, my Lord?" Arken growled.
"Then you will unleash the full fury of this ship and ensure that none of us leave this graveyard alive," Varrus replied without a flicker of emotion.
A sleek, falcon-winged Eldar transport, a Vampire Raider, detached from the lead cruiser and glided towards the Obelisk. It was a clear statement: the meeting would be on their terms, on their ship.
The journey through the Eldar vessel was a disorienting experience. The interior was a seamless, flowing cavern of pearlescent wraithbone that seemed to hum with a faint, musical energy. The air was cool and smelled of ozone and a thousand strange, alien pollens. Gentle, sourceless lights shifted and swayed, and the very gravity seemed a fraction lighter, lending an unnatural grace to every step. It was a place of profound, ancient beauty, and it made the gothic, brutal grandeur of the Imperium seem like the work of clumsy, angry children.
They were led into a circular chamber at the heart of the ship. The ceiling was a dome of flawless crystal that looked out onto the nebula, and the floor was an intricate mosaic of runes that seemed to writhe and glow with their own inner light. In the center of the room, flanked by two imposing, black-armored Warlocks with blades of solidified psychic energy, stood the Farseer.
Farseer Eldanar was tall and slender, her movements as fluid as smoke. She wore flowing robes of deep blue and silver, covered in runes of prophecy and power. Her face, framed by a tall, elegant helmet, was an impassive mask of ancient, sorrowful wisdom. But her eyes, when she looked at them, were twin pools of psychic fire that saw not just what was, but what could be, and what had been.
"Farseer," Varrus replied, his own voice a low rumble. "The request is born of grave necessity. A faction within my own Imperium, blinded by zeal, now hunts us. The Warp is watched. The Webway is our only path to a place of safety."
Eldanar's gaze shifted from Varrus, past Kael, and settled upon Rimuru. For a long moment, she was utterly still. The air grew thick with psychic power as she peered into the currents of fate. Her impassive mask finally broke, a flicker of profound shock and confusion crossing her features.
She refocused on Varrus.
A palpable wave of relief went through Kael.
Her fiery eyes met Rimuru's calm, golden ones.
A shimmering, shimmering portal, a tear in reality that looked into a corridor of swirling, impossible colors, opened in the center of the chamber.