A Walk with Trazyn

The battle won, Thet-Amun secured, Phaeron Kha'resh Mek stood atop his flagship, the "Phaeron's Will," his gaze fixed upon the Tesseract Labyrinth resting in his palm. Within its multidimensional confines, the Echoing Vault pulsed with eldritch energies, a testament to the power the Necrons had just subdued. The swirling chaos within reminded Kha'resh of a particularly temperamental snow globe he had once seen in Trazyn's collection.

"Perhaps," he mused aloud, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "Trazyn would be interested in adding this peculiar specimen to his menagerie. It would certainly liven up his dreary exhibitions."

As his legions began their orderly withdrawal from the planet's surface, a urgent transmission cut through the command channels. One of his senior Crypteks, voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern, reported, "My lord, our long-range sensors have detected a sizable fleet translating from the Warp into realspace. Preliminary analysis suggests it is of Imperial origin, most likely Adeptus Mechanicus."

Kha'resh's eyes flared briefly, considering the new information. For a moment, he weighed the possibilities: engage this new force and further demonstrate the dynasty's power, or withdraw and conserve resources for future endeavors. The decision took less than a nanosecond.

"Ignore them," Kha'resh commanded, his tone dismissive. "We have achieved our objective here. There is no need to waste energy on unnecessary conflict."

With a wave of his hand, he signaled for the fleet to depart. "Prepare the Inertialess Drives. We return to our territory."

As one, the vast Necron fleet began to power up their drives. In a dazzling display of green energy, they vanished from the system, leaving behind only the fading echoes of their victory and a planet forever changed by their presence.

The vast expanse of space above Thet-Amun shimmered as reality reasserted itself in the wake of the Necrons' departure. Where moments before an alien fleet of incomprehensible power had hung in the void, now there was only the empty canvas of stars. Into this vacuum of expectation burst the Mechanicus Armada, a conglomeration of steel and faith, their hulls adorned with the iconography of the Omnissiah.

At the head of this impressive fleet was the Ark Mechanicus "Omnissiah's Truth," its massive form bristling with weaponry and arcane sensors. On its bridge stood Archmagos Dominus Ferro Binarix, his augmented form quivering with barely contained anger and disappointment.

"Full sensor sweep," he commanded, his vox-caster crackling with static. "Find me this xenos threat that warranted such an urgent response."

Seconds stretched into minutes as the fleet's sensors probed the surrounding space. Magos Explorator Xephon Vex stood to one side, his mechadendrites twitching nervously as the lack of findings became increasingly apparent.

Finally, a tech-priest turned to address the Archmagos. "My lord, we detect no signs of xenos activity. The planet below shows signs of recent spatial disturbances, but there are no active threats present."

Ferro Binarix's augmetic eyes whirred as they focused on Xephon. "Explain yourself, Explorator. You sent a priority alert speaking of a threat beyond our comprehension. You requisitioned an entire battle group for this endeavor. And yet we find... nothing."

Xephon stepped forward, his voice modulator struggling to maintain a calm tone. "Archmagos, I assure you, the threat was real. The Echoing Vault, the entities we designated as the Harrowing—they were here. Our initial encounters--"

"Enough!" Ferro Binarix's voice boomed across the bridge, causing several lesser tech-priests to flinch. "Your data is flawed, Explorator. You have wasted the Mechanicus' resources on a wild goose chase."

From the shadows of the bridge, Magos Biologis Ophelia Scrypt stepped forward. Her form was more organic than most of her peers, specialized for the study of alien life forms. "Perhaps," she intoned, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism, "we should conduct a thorough examination of the planet's surface before dismissing Xephon's claims entirely."

Ferro Binarix's mechadendrites writhed in agitation. "And risk exposing more of our assets to whatever madness has clearly afflicted Explorator Xephon? No. We will conduct remote scans only."

As the fleet hung in orbit, tensions rose among the gathered Magi. Factions began to form, with some supporting a more thorough investigation and others calling for immediate censure of Xephon and a return to Mars.

Magos Fallax, master of the fleet's Skitarii legions, voiced his frustration. "We have mobilized warriors and warmachines for this endeavor. To return without engaging in battle is... inefficient."

"Inefficient?" countered Magos Domina Lux, her form adorned with complex data-tethers. "What's inefficient is chasing phantoms based on the ramblings of a clearly malfunctioning Explorator."

As the debate raged on, Xephon found himself increasingly isolated. The evidence of what he had witnessed—the Echoing Vault, the reality-bending Harrowing, the devastating power of the Necrons—all of it seemed to have vanished like mist before the morning sun.

"Please," he pleaded, addressing the gathered Magi. "If we could just send a small team to the coordinates where the Vault manifested--"

"Silence!" Ferro Binarix's patience had finally run out. "You will speak no more of this Vault, these Harrowing, or any other figments of your corrupted data-banks. As of this moment, you are relieved of duty and will return to Mars for full cognitive recalibration."

A hush fell over the bridge. To be sent for recalibration was tantamount to a death sentence for a Magos, the loss of memory and personality often leaving little more than a mindless automaton in its wake.

As Skitarii moved to escort Xephon from the bridge, Magos Biologis Ophelia made one last attempt at reason. "Archmagos, please. Consider the possibility that there is more here than meets the eye. The Omnissiah works in mysterious ways, and--"

"The Omnissiah," Ferro Binarix interrupted, "does not lead its faithful on fools' errands. We came seeking a threat to the Imperium and found nothing but void. The matter is closed."

With that final pronouncement, the fate of Xephon Vex was sealed. As he was led away, the Explorator's mind raced, trying to understand how such a monumental discovery could have slipped through their fingers. Somewhere out there, he knew, the Necrons of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty were laughing at the blindness of the Mechanicus.

As the Armada prepared to return to Imperial space, the truth of what had transpired on Thet-Amun faded into myth and whispered rumor. The Imperium, in its ignorance, had brushed against a power beyond its comprehension and, in its arrogance, chosen to look away. The galaxy would continue to turn, oblivious to the rising power of the Necrons and the terrible wonders locked away in a Tesseract Labyrinth, held in the palm of a being who had once slain gods.

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The halls of Solemnace echoed with the metallic footsteps of two ancient beings. Kha'resh Mek, the Godslayer, walked alongside Trazyn the Infinite, his old friend and fellow Necron overlord. The museum's vast chambers stretched out before them, filled with countless artifacts from across time and space.

Trazyn gestured to a nearby display. "And here, my dear Kha'resh, is a fragment of the first Terran flag planted on Luna. Quite the historical moment for the humans, wouldn't you agree?"

Kha'resh's green eyes flickered as he examined the tattered cloth. "Indeed. Though it pales in comparison to our own achievements."

"Ah, ever the conqueror," Trazyn chuckled. "Speaking of which, I hear you've been busy. An Imperial expedition led by two Primarchs, was it?"

Kha'resh nodded. "The Lion and the Wolf. Formidable warriors, but ultimately outmatched by our technology and tactics."

"Impressive," Trazyn mused. "Though I wonder, old friend, what drives you to continue these conquests? We've already achieved immortality, of a sort."

The two Necrons paused before a holographic display of the galaxy, its spiral arms dotted with countless lights representing worlds and civilizations.

Kha'resh's voice took on a contemplative tone. "Immortality, yes. But at what cost, Trazyn? We stand here, unchanging, while the galaxy teems with life and evolution."

"A philosophical quandary, to be sure," Trazyn replied. "We've preserved our culture, our knowledge, but as you say, we are frozen in time."

"Exactly," Kha'resh said, his metallic fingers tracing the outline of a star system. "I look at these younger races, and while they are primitive in many ways, they possess something we've lost."

Trazyn tilted his head. "Souls? Or perhaps you mean the capacity for growth and change?"

"Both, I think," Kha'resh answered. "We defeated the Old Ones, we overthrew the C'tan, but in doing so, we've become stagnant."

The two continued their walk, passing by displays of exotic flora and fauna from countless worlds.

Trazyn gestured to a particularly vibrant specimen. "Yet look at the diversity we've preserved here. Is that not a form of growth?"

Kha'resh shook his head. "Preservation is not the same as living, old friend. We're curators of a dead culture, not participants in a living one."

"A grim assessment," Trazyn remarked. "But not entirely inaccurate. So, what do you propose? To continue your conquests in search of... what, exactly?"

Kha'resh's eyes flared brighter for a moment. "Purpose, perhaps. Or a way to reclaim what we've lost. You've heard the whispers, Trazyn. The theories about reversing biotransference."

Trazyn's posture stiffened slightly. "Dangerous thoughts, those. Many would consider such ideas heretical."

"And yet," Kha'resh pressed, "can you deny the appeal? To feel again, to truly live?"

"I cannot," Trazyn admitted. "But the risks..."

Kha'resh waved a hand dismissively. "We faced greater risks in the War in Heaven. I myself struck down the Nightbringer."

"Ah yes, the Godslayer," Trazyn chuckled. "A title well-earned. But tell me, what of your recent encounter with the Harrowing?"

Kha'resh's eyes glowed, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "A formidable foe, to be sure. Interdimensional horrors that defied the laws of physics. It took quite a bit of Technological might to fell them."

"And yet you prevailed," Trazyn noted. "As you always do. Which brings us back to the question at hand – what next for the great Kha'resh Mek?"

The two Necrons had reached a balcony overlooking a vast chamber filled with countless stasis pods, each containing a frozen moment in time.

Kha'resh gazed out over the collection. "I stand at a crossroads, Trazyn. My dynasty grows stronger by the day. We've claimed over 305 worlds, including lesser Tomb Worlds. We've repelled Primarchs and contained extra-dimensional threats. But to what end?"

Trazyn placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were always the ambitious one, Kha'resh. Even in our flesh-and-blood days, you sought to push the boundaries of what was possible."

"And look where it got us," Kha'resh replied, a hint of bitterness in his synthetic voice. "Immortal, yes, but at the cost of our very essence."

"Yet here we stand," Trazyn countered, "discussing philosophy and the nature of existence. Surely that counts for something?"

Kha'resh turned to face his old friend. "It does. But is it enough? You content yourself with your collection, Trazyn. And I respect that. But I find myself yearning for more."

"More conquest?" Trazyn asked.

"Perhaps," Kha'resh mused. "Or perhaps something else entirely. The Imperium of Man is ascending, spreading across the galaxy like a wildfire. Part of me wants to extinguish that flame before it threatens us. Another part... another part wonders if we might learn from them."

Trazyn's eyes flickered with surprise. "Learn from them? They're primitives compared to us."

"In technology, yes," Kha'resh agreed. "But in spirit? In drive? They possess a vitality we've lost, Trazyn. And I find myself envying that."

"Dangerous thoughts indeed," Trazyn murmured. "But I understand. You were always one to challenge the status quo."

Kha'resh nodded. "Do you remember, old friend, when I was offered a position among the Triarch?"

"How could I forget?" Trazyn chuckled. "The entire Necrontyr civilization was abuzz with the news. And then you shocked everyone by declining."

"They were afraid of me that I was sure, aiming to put a leash on me," Kha'resh explained. "But now? I feel free to conquer and fight but I am bored...tired?"

Trazyn gestured expansively. "And so we return to the question – what will you do, Kha'resh Mek? Continue your conquests? Seek a way to reverse our transformation? Challenge the rising Imperium of Man?"

Kha'resh was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. "I don't know, old friend. For the first time in millions of years, I find myself uncertain."

"Uncertainty?" Trazyn mused. "How delightfully organic of you. Perhaps you're more 'alive' than you give yourself credit for."

Kha'resh's eyes brightened slightly at that. "Perhaps. But it doesn't answer the question of what to do next."

"No," Trazyn agreed, "it doesn't. But it does suggest that you're capable of growth, of change. And isn't that what you've been lamenting the lack of?"

Kha'resh nodded slowly. "A fair point. But change towards what?"

Trazyn shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture for a being of living metal. "That, my friend is entirely up to you. You've always forged your own path. Why stop now?"

"Indeed," Kha'resh mused. "The galaxy is changing, Trazyn. The Great Crusade of the Imperium, the stirring of the Aeldari, the growing Ork empires. And now these interdimensional incursions. We cannot remain static."

"So you will act?" Trazyn asked.

Kha'resh's posture straightened, a hint of his old commanding presence returning. "I will. The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty will not hide in the shadows. We will meet this changing galaxy head-on."

"As a conqueror?" Trazyn pressed.

"As a force for change," Kha'resh replied. "Whether that means conquest, alliance, or something in between remains to be seen. But we will adapt, we will evolve. We must, or we risk true death – the death of irrelevance."

Trazyn nodded approvingly. "Well said, old friend. And what of the whispers of reversing biotransference?"

Kha'resh's eyes glowed brightly. "A goal to work towards, perhaps. But not an obsession. If we find a way, excellent. If not, we'll forge our own path to growth and change."

"A balanced approach," Trazyn remarked. "I expected nothing less from you, Kha'resh."

The two Necrons stood in companionable silence for a moment, gazing out over Trazyn's vast collection.

Finally, Kha'resh spoke again. "Thank you, old friend. Our conversations always help to clarify my thoughts."

"That's what friends are for," Trazyn replied, a hint of warmth in his mechanical voice. "Even for beings as ancient and powerful as us."

Kha'resh nodded. "Indeed. Well, I should be going. A dynasty doesn't run itself, after all."

"Before I go," Kha'resh said, reaching into a subspace pocket, "a gift. For old times' sake."

He produced a tesseract labyrinth "The Harrowing, May it be displayed in your museum for safekeeping and history, to the many races I conquered"

"A Welcome Gift" Trazyn said happily, as he recieved the Tesseract labyrinth that contained the Harrowing.

"Until we meet again, Trazyn the Infinite old friend"

"Until then, Kha'resh Mek, the Godslayer," Trazyn replied. "May your path lead you to interesting times and historical events"