The Halo Stars, Awakening

838.M30

In the outer reaches of Segmentum Obscurus, Beyond even the Scarus sector, in a region now known as the Obsidian Reach, lay the slumbering worlds of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty. For millions of years, these planets had masqueraded as dead, lifeless rocks, their true nature hidden from the prying eyes of younger races. But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Magos Explorator Xerxes of the Adeptus Mechanicus led his expedition fleet deep into the uncharted void, driven by an insatiable hunger for knowledge and technology. The augmented humans of the Mechanicus believed themselves to be on the cusp of a great discovery, their cogitators and auguries detecting energy signatures that hinted at the presence of a long-lost Standard Template Construct (STC). Little did they know that they were about to awaken a force beyond their comprehension.

As the Mechanicus fleet approached the Crownworld of Tjet'amun, heart of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty, their sensors were overwhelmed by the sudden surge of energy emanating from the planet's surface. What appeared to be barren wastelands shifted and transformed, revealing vast citadels of living metal that had lain dormant for eons.

Magos Xerxes, his excitement overriding caution, ordered immediate landfall. Teams of Skitarii and Tech-Priests deployed across the surface, marveling at the advanced architecture that surrounded them. In their hubris, they believed they had discovered the remnants of humanity's golden age.

Deep within the planet's core, ancient systems stirred to life. The Canoptek constructs, eternal guardians of the tomb world, began their preprogrammed routines. Silent alarms echoed through the stasis chambers, rousing the slumbering Necrons from their aeons-long slumber.

In the great awakening chamber, the sarcophagus of Phaeron Kha'resh-Mehk hissed open. Golden flames ignited in his obsidian eye sockets as consciousness returned to the ancient lord. His towering form, standing 12 feet tall, rose from the stasis pod, necrodermis gleaming with an otherworldly sheen.

Beside him, Malakar the Immovable, his ever-loyal Nemesor, knelt in reverence. "My lord," Malakar intoned, his voice a metallic rasp, "we awaken to intruders in our realm."

Kha'resh-Mehk's gaze swept across the awakening chamber, taking in the sight of his rousing court. "How... inconvenient," the Phaeron mused, his tone carrying the weight of eons. "Prepare our defenses. Let us greet these unwelcome guests."

Above, on the planet's surface, the Mechanicus expedition was rapidly descending into chaos. What they had initially mistaken for automated defenses revealed themselves to be legions of Necron Warriors, rising from hidden chambers beneath the ground. Green gauss flayers lit up the darkness, their Gauss energies stripping flesh and metal alike from the Skitarii forces.

Magos Xerxes, realizing the gravity of their error, attempted to call for an emergency evacuation. But it was already too late. In orbit, the Mechanicus fleet found itself under assault from weapons beyond their understanding. A massive structure, easily the size of a small moon, had detached itself from one of the system's planets – a World Engine, awakened from its slumber.

The World Engine's weapons batteries opened fire, lances of emerald energy cutting through void shields as if they were tissue paper. Entire cruisers were vaporized in seconds, their crews not even having time to scream. The few ships that attempted to flee found their Warp drives inexplicably malfunctioning, trapped in realspace by technologies that defied the laws of physics as the Imperium understood them.

On the ground, the situation was equally dire. Immortals marched in perfect lockstep, their more powerful gauss weapons punching through even the heaviest armor of the Mechanicus forces. Lychguard carved through squads of Skitarii with their warscythes, the energy fields surrounding their blades negating any attempt at defense.

Canoptek Wraiths phased through solid matter, appearing within the supposedly secure command centers to wreak havoc.

The Mechanicus forces fought bravely, but it was a hopeless battle. Their most potent weapons, capable of reducing Space Marines to ash, barely scratched the living metal bodies of the Necrons. And worse, those Necrons that fell would often rise again, their bodies reknitting themselves through reanimation protocols that seemed like sorcery to the tech-adepts.

As the battle raged, Archmagos Xerxes and his inner circle retreated deeper into the Necron structures, desperately searching for some way to turn the tide. Instead, they found themselves in the awakening chambers of Kha'resh-Mehk himself.

The Archmagos stared in horror at the towering figure before him. Kha'resh-Mehk stood resplendent in his necrodermis armor, darker than the void and etched with glyphs that hurt the mind to look upon. Atop his head sat a crown that defied description, seeming to shift and writhe in ways that made Xerxes' augmetic eyes malfunction.

In that moment, as madness threatened to overtake him, Xerxes' translation algorithms finally decoded the name of this ancient dynasty from the Necron Language. "The Godbreaker Dynasty," he whispered, his mechanized voice trembling with fear.

Kha'resh-Mehk's eyes flared brighter, and suddenly Xerxes' mind was assaulted with visions – a creature of cosmic horror, a god of death itself, shattered and broken by the very being that stood before him. The Nightbringer, a C'tan of unimaginable power, defeated by this Phaeron.

"Godslayer," Xerxes managed to utter, his circuits overloading from the psychic assault.

Before Kha'resh-Mehk could respond, Malakar the Immovable appeared beside his lord. With a single swing of his warscythe, he bisected the Archmagos, ending his existence.

Kha'resh-Mehk nodded in approval, then summoned his Great Spear from a pocket dimension. The weapon materialized in his grasp, crackling with energies that defied the laws of physics. With deliberate force, he slammed the butt of the spear against the chamber floor.

The impact resonated through the planet, then beyond. Across the Obsidian Reach, fifty-five worlds that had appeared dead and lifeless began to stir. Hidden Necron technologies activated, transforming barren rocks into fortress worlds bristling with weaponry that had not been seen in the galaxy for millions of years.

Entire star systems reconfigured themselves, planets moving into defensive formations that boggled the minds of Imperial tacticians. Lesser xenos races that had taken residence in these systems found themselves suddenly eradicated, their civilizations snuffed out in mere moments by weapons they couldn't even comprehend.

The few remaining Mechanicus ships in nearby systems, drawn by the distress calls of Xerxes' fleet, arrived only to be instantly vaporized by defenses that made the much-vaunted Nova Cannon seem like a child's toy in comparison.

In the awakening chamber, Kha'resh-Mehk turned to his assembled Overlords, each a master of war in their own right. "Report," he commanded, his voice resonating with authority that brooked no argument.

Sekhet the Void Weaver spoke first, her cautious nature evident in her words. "My lord, I've analyzed the data from the intruders' vessels. This 'Imperium of Man' spans much of the galaxy, but their technology is... inconsistent. Some designs show remarkable advancement, while others are primitively backward."

Nefertari the Eternal, ever the political schemer, added her thoughts. "They are numerous, my lord. While individually weak, they could potentially overwhelm us through sheer numbers if we're not careful."

Imhotep the Architect, his mind already working on new defense systems, interjected. "Their weapons are largely ineffective against our necrodermis, but we should not underestimate their capacity for adaptation. I suggest we fortify our core worlds immediately."

Amenhotep the Unyielding, aggressive as always, pounded his fist against his chest. "Bah! We should strike now, while they're unaware of our true strength. Let us teach these upstart humans the folly of trespassing in our domain!"

Nephthys the Silent simply nodded, indicating that she had already begun gathering intelligence on this new galactic order.

Kha'resh-Mehk absorbed their reports, his ancient mind calculating countless possibilities. "Your counsel is noted," he said at last. "We have awakened to a galaxy much changed, yet the fundamental truths remain. We are the Necrons, inheritors of the stars themselves. These humans, powerful though they may be, are but children playing with forces they cannot comprehend."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across his Overlords. "However, we shall not underestimate them. The C'tan made that mistake with us, and look how that ended. We shall observe, we shall plan, and when the time is right, we shall remind this galaxy why the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty was feared even among our own kind."

As if to punctuate his words, reports flooded in from across the Obsidian Reach. The dynasty's awakening had not gone unnoticed. Imperial outposts were going dark, their distress calls abruptly silenced. Warp routes near Sahkar-Tet territory became treacherous, ships vanishing without a trace.

In the halls of Terra and Mars, data-looms churned as reports of a new, unprecedented threat reached the highest levels of Imperial command. The Imperium of Man, in its arrogance, had awoken something ancient and terrible. The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty had returned, and with it, a war that would make the Rangdan Xenocides pale in comparison was about to begin.

In the days following the awakening of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty, the Obsidian Reach buzzed with activity. The once-dormant Necron worlds pulsed with emerald energy, their ancient systems coming fully online after millions of years of slumber. Kha'resh-Mehk, the Godslayer, sat upon his throne of living metal, processing the flood of data streaming in from across his domain.

Nephthys the Silent approached, her movements as fluid as quicksilver. She bowed before her Phaeron, then projected a holographic map of the Obsidian Reach. "My lord," she began, her voice a whisper that nonetheless carried clearly, "I bring troubling news. Our sensors have detected increasing Warp fluctuations across several sectors of our territory."

Kha'resh-Mehk's eyes flared with interest. "Elaborate," he commanded.

Nephthys gestured, and the hologram zoomed in on specific regions. "These areas show signs of weakening in the fabric of realspace. If left unchecked, they could potentially allow Warp entities to manifest in our domain."

The Phaeron's fingers tightened on the arms of his throne. Memories of the War in Heaven flashed through his ancient mind – the madness of the Warp, the corrupting influence of the Old Ones' creations. He had not fought so hard, had not sacrificed so much, to allow such abominations into his realm.

"Unacceptable," Kha'resh-Mehk declared, rising from his throne. "Imhotep!"

The master architect stepped forward, his necrodermis form adorned with complex glyphs denoting his status. "Yes, my lord?"

"Deploy Null Field Matrices to these locations immediately. I want these Warp breaches sealed and our territory secured against immaterial incursions."

Imhotep bowed deeply. "It shall be done, my lord. I have been developing improved designs based on the original Null Field Matrix technology. With your permission, I would like to implement these enhancements."

Kha'resh-Mehk nodded his assent. "Proceed. Nephthys, continue monitoring the situation and report any changes immediately."

As his subordinates hurried to carry out his orders, Kha'resh-Mehk turned his attention to the broader strategic situation. The Null Field Matrices were a testament to Necron technological supremacy – devices capable of creating zones of pure realspace, utterly inimical to the Warp and its denizens.

Across the Obsidian Reach, Canoptek Spyders and Scarabs swarmed into action, guided by the precise instructions of Imhotep and his crypteks. They burrowed deep into the planets' crusts, establishing vast underground complexes to house the Null Field Matrices.

Each Matrix was a marvel of Necron engineering – a towering obelisk of living metal, etched with glyphs of mind-bending complexity. As they activated, waves of anti-Warp energy pulsed outward, reinforcing the boundaries between realspace and the Immaterium.

In orbit, Necron ships deployed smaller, mobile versions of the technology. These void-borne Null Field Generators created a web of anti-Warp energy, further strengthening the dynasty's defenses against immaterial threats.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. Warp storms that had been building on the fringes of Sahkar-Tet territory dissipated like mist before the morning sun. Any lesser Warp entities that had managed to slip through the weakening veil found themselves suddenly cut off from their source of power, withering away to nothing in the cold light of pure realspace.

As reports of the successful deployments reached him, Kha'resh-Mehk allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. But there was no time to rest on their laurels. The Obsidian Reach was vast, and much of it remained unexplored since their awakening.

Amenhotep the Unyielding, ever eager for conquest, approached the Phaeron. "My lord," he began, his voice filled with barely contained excitement, "now that we have secured our immediate territory against Warp incursions, should we not turn our attention to expansion? There are many worlds in the Obsidian Reach yet to feel the touch of your rule."

Kha'resh-Mehk considered the proposal. Expansion would indeed be necessary if they were to establish a power base capable of challenging the Imperium of Man. But he was also keenly aware of the possibility of encountering other Necron dynasties.

"Prepare a expeditionary fleet," Kha'resh-Mehk ordered. "We shall investigate these worlds personally. I suspect we may find some... familiar faces."

Within hours, a fleet of Necron ships departed from Tjet'amun. At their heart was Kha'resh-Mehk's personal flagship a Heavily Modified Cairn-Class Tombship significantly larger than it's peers Phaeron's Will compared to it's contemporaries of 15 Kilometers in length, Kha'resh's is 60 Kilometers in Length a vessel of such vast proportions and terrible power that it dwarfed even the mighty battleships of the Imperial Navy.

As they approached the first unexplored system, long-dormant sensors stirred to life. Kha'resh-Mehk's suspicions were confirmed – they had discovered another Tomb World.

"My lord," Sekhet the Void Weaver reported, "scans indicate that this world's stasis systems are still active. Its inhabitants appear to be in hibernation."

Kha'resh-Mehk nodded. "Prepare a landing party. I shall speak with this world's ruler personally."

As the Phaeron's lander descended to the planet's surface, dormant defense systems recognized the codes of Necron royalty and stood down. The planet's systems, sensing the approach of a superior, began the awakening protocols for its own ruler.

In the tomb world's central chamber, Kha'resh-Mehk waited as a sarcophagus hissed open. From it emerged a Necron Lord, his form ornate but clearly subservient to the Phaeron's majesty.

The Lord's eyes flickered with recognition as he beheld Kha'resh-Mehk. He immediately prostrated himself before the Phaeron. "My lord Kha'resh-Mehk," he intoned, his voice filled with awe and not a little fear. "I am Ahmose, once guardian of the southern marches of your realm. I... I had not dared hope that you had survived the Great Sleep."

Kha'resh-Mehk's gaze bore down upon the lesser Necron. "Rise, Ahmose. The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty awakens, and I would know if you still serve."

Ahmose rose, his posture one of complete submission. "My lord, my forces are yours to command, as they have always been. We stood with you against the last bastion of the Old Ones. We will stand with you now, against whatever foes this new age may bring."

Satisfied with the response, Kha'resh-Mehk nodded. "Very well. Awaken your forces and prepare to integrate them into our fleet. The galaxy has changed much in our absence, and we have much work to do."

As Ahmose hurried to comply, Kha'resh-Mehk allowed himself a moment of reflection. If more of his old vassals had survived, perhaps this new campaign would be easier than he had anticipated.

However, the next system they encountered proved that not all awakenings would go so smoothly.

This tomb world's defenses were active and hostile, not recognizing Kha'resh-Mehk's authority. From the surface, a transmission was broadcast to the Phaeron's flagship.

"I am Intef the Defiant," came a belligerent voice. "This world is mine, and I bow to no one. Leave now, or face obliteration."

Kha'resh-Mehk's eyes flared with anger. He remembered Intef – a minor lord who had always been troublesome, even during the War in Heaven. It seemed that millions of years of sleep had not improved his disposition.

"Intef," Kha'resh-Mehk responded, his voice cold. "You forget yourself. I gave you that world to steward in my name, not to claim as your own. Submit, and you may yet have a place in the reborn Sahkar-Tet Dynasty."

Intef's response was a barrage of fire from the planet's defense systems. Emerald beams of energy lanced out, impacting harmlessly against the vastly superior shields of Kha'resh-Mehk's fleet.

The Phaeron's patience, never great to disobedient Necron, was exhausted. "So be it," he growled. "Sekhet, begin the assault. Amenhotep, prepare boarding parties. I want Intef brought before me – alive."

What followed was a display of overwhelming force. Kha'resh-Mehk's fleet unleashed a barrage that systematically dismantled Intef's defenses. Monoliths and Night Scythes descended through the atmosphere, disgorging waves of Necron Warriors and Immortals.

Intef's forces, caught off guard and vastly outmatched, fell quickly. Many, recognizing Kha'resh-Mehk's authority, simply stood down. Those who resisted were cut down with ruthless efficiency.

Within hours, Amenhotep personally dragged the defeated Intef before Kha'resh-Mehk. The rebellious lord was forced to his knees, his necrodermis form sparking from damage sustained in the battle.

Kha'resh-Mehk loomed over the defeated Necron, his Great Spear crackling with barely contained energy. "Intef the Defiant," he intoned, his voice dripping with disdain. "It seems you are not so Defiant after all."

Intef raised his head, defiance still burning in his eyes. "Do your worst, Kha'resh-Mehk. I will not bend the knee to you or any other."

The Phaeron's response was swift and terrible. With a gesture, he unleashed a stream of energy from his Spear, engulfing Intef's form. The rebellious lord screamed as his very essence was torn apart, his consciousness unraveling under the assault of Kha'resh-Mehk's unimaginable will.

When it was over, Intef's body remained, but his mind was gone – scoured clean by the Phaeron's power. Kha'resh-Mehk turned to Nephthys the Silent. "Upload a loyal personality matrix into this shell. Waste not, want not, after all."

As Nephthys set about reprogramming the now-empty necrodermis, Kha'resh-Mehk addressed his assembled forces. "Let this be a lesson to all who would defy the will of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty. We awaken to a changed galaxy, but our purpose remains the same. Unity under my rule is not merely preferable – it is the only path to survival in this new age."

The campaign to consolidate the Obsidian Reach continued for several weeks. Most tomb worlds they encountered either welcomed Kha'resh-Mehk's return or submitted quickly after a show of force. A few, like Intef, resisted and were made examples of.

With each world brought under his control, the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty grew stronger. Vast armies of Necron Warriors were added to their forces. Crypteks brought new scientific insights and technological marvels. Canoptek swarms expanded exponentially, allowing for rapid repair and construction across their growing empire.

Throughout it all, Kha'resh-Mehk remained vigilant against the threat of Warp incursions. Null Field Matrices were established on every world they claimed, creating an ever-expanding zone of stable realspace in the tumultuous Obsidian Reach.

As the last of the known tomb worlds in the region was brought into compliance, Kha'resh-Mehk called a council of his most trusted Overlords.

"The first phase of our awakening is complete," he declared. "The Obsidian Reach is ours once more. Now, we must turn our attention outward. The Imperium of Man grows ever closer to our borders, and we must be prepared."

Sekhet the Void Weaver spoke up. "My lord, our void defenses are formidable, but the Imperium's numbers are vast. Perhaps we should focus on fortification before considering expansion?"

Nefertari the Eternal countered, "Fortification alone will not suffice. We must gather more intelligence about our adversaries. Perhaps we can exploit divisions within their empire?"

Imhotep the Architect added his thoughts. "Our technology is superior, but we should not underestimate their capacity for adaptation. I propose we begin development of new weapons specifically designed to counter their strengths."

Amenhotep the Unyielding, predictably, argued for immediate aggressive action. "Why wait? We should strike now, while they still underestimate our power. A swift, decisive blow could cripple their ability to respond effectively."

Nephthys the Silent simply handed Kha'resh-Mehk a data-slate containing her latest intelligence reports, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.

Kha'resh-Mehk considered their advice carefully. Each had merit, but none alone would be sufficient. The Imperium of Man was unlike any foe they had faced before – not as psychically potent as the Old Ones, nor as individually powerful as the Aeldari at their height, but possessed of a stubborn resilience and a scale of industry that could not be ignored.

"We shall do all of these things," Kha'resh-Mehk declared at last. "Fortify our borders, gather intelligence, develop new weapons, and yes, prepare for war. But we shall do so methodically, strategically. The Imperium has had millennia to spread across the galaxy. We shall not overcome them in a day."

He rose from his throne, his towering form casting long shadows across the council chamber. "But make no mistake – overcome them we shall. The Necrons are the rightful rulers of this galaxy. The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty shall lead our race to reclaim what is ours, no matter the cost."

As his Overlords bowed and departed to carry out his will, Kha'resh-Mehk turned his gaze to the holographic display of the galaxy. Countless stars glittered in the void, each representing worlds to be conquered, resources to be claimed, and foes to be vanquished.

The Phaeron's eyes flared with determination. The Imperium of Man thought itself the master of the galaxy. The Aeldari clung to the fading remnants of their former glory. The Orks rampaged unchecked, and the tendrils of Chaos reached ever further into realspace.

Kha'resh-Mehk, the Godslayer, stood at the precipice of a new era. The galaxy had forgotten the might of the Necrons. It was time to remind them, and claim what was rightfully theirs.

------------------------

The Emperor of Mankind sat alone in his private sanctum deep within the Imperial Palace on Terra. His eyes, windows to a soul older than human civilization, were closed in deep concentration. The psychic energies of the Warp swirled around him, carrying visions of possible futures.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, golden irises blazing with psychic fire. The force of his awakening sent a psychic shockwave through the Palace, causing the Custodians standing guard to stumble. The Emperor's face, usually a mask of serene confidence, showed a flicker of concern. He had seen something... troubling.

In his vision, he saw his sons, the mighty Primarchs, brought low. The Lion, master strategist of Caliban, and Leman Russ, the Wolf King of Fenris, lay broken and bleeding on a field of battle. Their transhuman bodies, engineered to withstand unimaginable punishment, were battered and torn.

Looming over them stood a figure that radiated an aura of ancient malevolence. Twelve feet tall, its form was darker than the void between stars, seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it. Upon its head sat a crown that defied description, its very presence inducing madness in those who gazed upon it. Beneath this crown, eyes of molten gold burned with the intensity of collapsing suns.

In its hand, the figure wielded a weapon that seemed to cut through reality itself. With each swing, it felled scores of Space Marines, their gene-enhanced bodies offering no more resistance than parchment before a flame. Even the Emperor's own Custodians, the finest warriors humanity had ever produced, were scattered like leaves before a storm.

The vision shifted, showing Imperial worlds reduced to ash, mighty fleets of the Imperial Navy shattered and dispersed. At the heart of this devastation marched endless ranks of metal warriors, their green eyes glowing with soulless purpose.

Then, the Emperor saw himself facing this dark colossus. They clashed in a battle that shook the very foundations of reality. But to his shock and dismay, he saw himself defeated, brought low by this ancient power.

In desperation, the Emperor reached out to the last weapon in his arsenal - the Void Dragon, one of the mighty C'tan he had imprisoned on Mars. But as the star-god was unleashed, the dark figure merely laughed, a sound that echoed across time and space. It turned to face this new threat with eager anticipation.

Yet, as quickly as it had come, the vision changed. Now the Emperor saw this same being, but its wrath was turned elsewhere. It stood against a tide of ravenous monsters, creatures of such horrific aspect that even the Emperor's transhuman mind recoiled. Six massive beasts, like grotesque parodies of tyrant kings, fell before the figure's blade.

In this version of the future, he saw the Blood Angels, his IX Legion, fighting alongside the metal warriors. His XIII son, Roboute Guilliman, stood in council with the dark figure, negotiating treaties and alliances.

As the visions faded, the Emperor opened his eyes, his mind racing with the implications of what he had seen. He reached out with his thoughts, calling to his most trusted advisor.

"Malcador, my old friend. We must speak."

Malcador the Sigillite, ever at the Emperor's side, approached cautiously. "My lord," he began, his voice filled with concern, "what have you seen?"

The Emperor's voice, when it came, seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once. "A threat, old friend. A threat unlike any we have faced before."

With a gesture, the Emperor projected his vision into Malcador's mind. The Sigillite gasped as he witnessed the scenes of devastation.

As the visions faded, Malcador stumbled, overwhelmed by the weight of what he had seen. "What are we to do, my lord? Should we divert resources from the Great Crusade to prepare for this threat?"

The Emperor was silent for a long moment, his mind working through countless possibilities. "No," he said at last. "The Webway project must remain our priority. Without it, humanity will never be safe from the predations of the Warp. But we must prepare, subtly. Increase our efforts to locate and study Necron tomb worlds. And... keep watch for signs of this 'Great Devourer.' If we can guide events towards that second future..."

Malcador nodded, understanding the immensity of the task before them. "I will see it done, my lord. But what of your sons? Should they be warned?"

"Not yet," the Emperor decided. "Knowledge of this could fracture the fragile unity we have built. For now, we watch, we prepare, and we hope that when the time comes, we can forge an alliance rather than face annihilation."

------------------------

Far from Terra, on a Craftworld hidden from prying eyes, Eldrad Ulthran, greatest of the Aeldari farseers, jolted from his meditative trance. His eyes, usually calm pools of wisdom, were wide with shock and... was that fear?

Acolytes rushed to his side, but Eldrad waved them away. He needed solitude to process what he had seen. For the first time in millennia, the Aeldari seer felt the cold grip of true terror.

"Kha'resh-Mehk," he whispered, the name itself seeming to dim the light around him. "The Godslayer awakens." Eldrad's mind raced through the ancient histories, stories passed down since the War in Heaven. Kha'resh-Mehk, the Necron Phaeron who had laid waste to countless Aeldari worlds, who had bested an Avatar of Khaine in single combat. A being so terrible that the Aeldari of old had dedicated vast resources to locating and destroying his tomb world before he could awaken.

But they had failed. And now, with the Aeldari empire long fallen, their race scattered across the stars in Craftworlds and hidden enclaves, how could they hope to stand against such a foe?Yet, even as despair threatened to overwhelm him, Eldrad saw another possibility. The Godslayer, standing against a tide of ravenous beasts that threatened to devour all life in the galaxy. Like the Emperor, Eldrad's visions shifted. He saw Kha'resh-Mek standing against a threat he did not recognize - vast swarms of bioengineered horrors that threatened to consume all life in the galaxy. In this possible future, the Godslayer's forces fought to protect Aeldari craftworlds, stemming the tide of these unknown monsters.

Eldrad's hands trembled as he reached for his runestones. He cast them again and again, seeking clarity, searching for the path that would lead to survival rather than extinction. The patterns were complex, maddeningly so, but slowly a strategy began to form in his ancient mind.

They could not fight Kha'resh-Mehk directly, that much was clear. But perhaps... perhaps they could guide events, subtly influence the flow of fate to bring about that second, more promising future.

It would require patience, cunning, and no small amount of risk. The Imperium of Man would have to be manipulated, steered towards conflict with the Necrons in some areas, and towards alliance in others. The awakening of tomb worlds would need to be carefully monitored and, in some cases, encouraged at the right moments.

And through it all, they would need to prepare for the coming of the Great Devourer, a threat that Eldrad could sense but not fully comprehend.

The farseer rose, his decision made. He would convene the council of seers, share what he had learned, and begin the long, delicate process of reshaping the future. The Aeldari had survived the Fall, had endured millennia of decline. They would survive this too, no matter the cost.

As Eldrad prepared to address his fellow seers, he cast his mind once more to the vision of Kha'resh-Mehk. "Godslayer," he murmured, "may you be the blade that cuts down our true enemies, rather than the scythe that culls the last of my people."With that prayer to fate itself, Eldrad stepped forward to set in motion plans that would shape the destiny of the galaxy for millennia to come.

A/N: I do Research when Writing but as much as the research I do 40k Lore is really convoluted sometimes😅