Everqueen Reclamation (55)

Author's Note: I intend to expand and edit this as soon as possible, I just thought people had waited long enough for an update.

EDIT: Final draft updated

***

Fenris is afraid.

It is not used to fear. It is old and strong, and it has survived great trials. It survived when its first people, its creators, the children of the All-Mother died. It survived the fires of war that consumed the galaxy after the Great King laid down his Edict, and the Children of the All-Mother tore themselves apart in grief and rage.

It survived a million years more. The Orks that landed on its surface, smaller empires that sought to strip it dry. It repelled them all.

Then came the humans. How naive and foolish they were, treating Fenris as a place to play, of all things! But Fenris was amused enough to allow it…as long as the humans took appropriate precautions of course. It would not take pity on the incautious.

And when the humans were betrayed by their soulless servants, Fenris helped them. It lent the humans its strength, and after the iron men were gone, it sheltered the remaining humans. It taught them the secrets of runes, it protected the mages from the dangers of the Warp even as the galaxy darkened and the Dark Gods swelled in strength. 

But despite all the terrors and travails that came the way of Fenris, it survived and it taught its adopted children to survive as well. And in return, the humans worshipped it. Their prayers strengthened it, and it took their souls into its safekeeping rather than let them fall into the Warp.

Fear was never an option.

But now…now Fenris knows fear as gods make war upon its surface.

Inside its greatest mountain, the All-Mother and the All-Father clash against the servants of the Bloodstained Wolf and the Ravenous Serpent. The World Spirit is a silent observer, one that can do nothing but watch, for its all strength must go into containing the warp rift, preventing it from opening any further.

Fenris watched as the All-Mother fought the Serpent's slave, and as she…changed.

Her warm aura changed as hateful frost and bitter winds coiled around her. It was almost akin to Fenris's own nature, the coming of winter, but…it was also not. There was something else to it, a darkness that threatened to consume everything.

Fenris had never thought to fear the All-Mother before, but it feared her now.

Even the Serpent's slave seemed taken aback for a moment before it let out a mad laugh.

“So you have some bite left to you after all, mother!” The creature that called itself the Monarch of the Hunt cackled. “Good. That should make this more fun.”

“Be quiet!” The All-Mother hissed and she sounded nothing like herself. Her was voice was no longer the gentle breeze of summer nor even the cold wind of winter but the bitter cold of the void itself, where no life could thrive.

Fenris understood the All-Mother's wrath, for the Serpent had clearly crafted its slave in the image of her mate, the Wild King. The Spirit would never decry righteous vengeance or fury, but this was more than. There was hate that burned like poison in the All-Mother's veins, something that reminded Fenris of…him.

A spear of that strange black ice emerged in the All-Mother's hands, replacing the previous one, and she lunged forward to clash with the False Monarch once more.

Yet, even the darkness that swirled around her barely seemed to give her an edge, and the False Monarch met her blow for blow, its power growing as more and more of its true essence flowed into the Materium.

For the creature standing in the caves of this mountain was only an avatar, a piece of the whole protruding into reality. 

Fenris could see False Monarch's true nature in all its terrible glory, a vision that would have driven mortals mad with sheer hopelessness. Through the portal, within the Immaterium, there was a great lion, vast and terrible, titanic beyond mortal comprehension. Its fur was violet, save for a great mane of white. The lion's eyes were gold and slitted like a snake's, hungry and vicious. The beast was large, larger than any of the leviathans within Fenris's seas, larger than Fenris itself. It could have swallowed Fenris and even Fenris's sun with a single, devoured it with its mountainous teeth that dripped with blood.

This was the true nature of the Exalted of Chaos. Aspects of a god given shape and form, malignant and murderous and brimming with infernal might. In the face of it, even Fenris could not help but feel akin to the smallest of prey facing down a great predator.

But the False Monarch's power was not his true advantage over the All-Mother here.

The Goddess of Life blocked a stab from his spear with her bone gauntlets, the collision unleashing a shockwave that shook the very mountain, cracking miles of stone and creating a crater beneath their feet. Yet, the False Monarch's spear left a gash on her gauntlet somehow, one that was slow to heal even as she sought to seal it.

No, the False Monarch's advantage was that he was an aspect of the Great Serpent. He was part of the story of the Sins of the All-Mother’s Children, of the Doom of the Gods.

And in the Warp, stories were what mattered above all.

The False Monarch and the All-Mother clashed again and again, too fast for the human eye to follow. Their footsteps left deep trenches in the stone, new shockwaves following each time they met as the mountain began to crumble around them. The pain stabs through Fenris and it wants to scream, but tries to ignore it. It knew there would be a cost to stopping Chaos.

There always is.

And even the All-Mother could not defeat such creatures so easily. The False Monarch was sufficiently powerful to actually pose a threat, enough that the All-Mother could not simply overwhelm him with raw power.

She was still the stronger of the two, that Fenris could tell. She might not seem so enormously vast at first, but the All-Mother was divine power compressed into a singularity by the hands of the First Ones, the God-Makers, a shining star of terrible might. 

Even as diminished and weakened as she was, the All-Mother had enough raw might to easily match four of Shalaxi the False Monarch.

But it was not enough. the False Monarch and the All-Mother were at best evenly matched, and Fenris could do little to help. The rift still fought to expand, writhing and trying to grow and let through more abominations. Fenris had to stop it, keep it from growing.

Finally, the All-Mother's claws sank into the False Monarch's back, and as the daemon screamed in pain, she launched both of them through the rock and into the winter storm outside.

Now alone in the cave, the All-Father- (no, he did not like that title) the Thunder King was locked in combat with his own foe. To the relief of Fenris, the Thunder King was faring better than the All-Mother.

The creature called Doombreed was mighty, and the screams of a thousand conquered kingdoms and a million million dying souls echoed with his every word. In the Immaterium, Doombreed's true self was a great and terrible living kingdom, a fortress and a palace all in one, soaked with blood to the very foundations, enough blood to drown Fenris a thousand times over, adorned in the spoils and prizes of a million conquests, ripped from the dying hands of weeping children.

But the Thunder King was mightier. He too was a burning star of power, even greater than the All-Mother. He took the guise of a great bearded king, his skin pale and his hair golden, wearing only the white furs of some long-dead beast wrapped around his waist, golden runes carved into his skin. Lightning swirled around him, the oppressive weight of his power bearing down upon both his enemy and the warp rift, seeking to force the portal shut.

The Thunder King's blade of golden flame flashed and flickered as he fought with Doombreed. The Wolf's only advantage was the sceptre of bone it wielded, which seemed to mitigate even the sorcery of the Thunder King, if only to a limited extent.

The Thunder King and the Fragment of the Wolf clashed again and again, their blades ringing with the sound of steel but also the breaking of worlds, of the cries of a million dead souls.

And yet…Fenris sensed something was wrong.

Surely the Crimson Wolf had to know that even with the sceptre, Doombreed could not do more than stall the Thunder King briefly.

And once Doombreed was banished, the Thunder King would go to the aid of the All-Mother, and together they would tear the False Monarch apart.

What was going on?

And then Fenris felt it, something that had escaped its attention before.

Towards the Northern Pole, in the ancient caverns where the first human settlers had built their cities, the cloaking spells failed, and a massive wave of power rippled outwards.

And Fenris screamed.

It could feel a poison flowing into its essence, trying to corrupt it.

It was the Raven's slaves, which had conjured forth one of its greatest shards.

A false angel with wings of azure flame and two heads was speaking words of ancient power, seeking to bind Fenris to its will, to enslave it and taint it, make it a creature of Chaos.

And Fenris writhed and screamed in pain and protest, struggling against the chains being wrapped around its neck. The continents shifted and volcanoes erupted across Fenris's skin, the skies burning with storms. And Fenris's people screamed and shrieked, for the turmoil upon their world was greater than the usual danger.

And yet, Fenris could hardly heed their prayers, as it was choked by the shackles that it was being bound in.

Fortunately, the Thunder King seemed to notice.

The King's eyes widened as he heard Fenris scream, and a portion of his attention turned to the Azure Angel.

And then the King split in two.

The Thunder King was replaced by a Warrior in tarnished armour, and a golden Shaman in robes of pure black.

The Tarnished Warrior stepped forward to clash with Doombreed, even as the Shaman passed through the Aethyr to reappear in the caverns below the Northern Pole, golden lightning erupting from her hands blasting the Azure Angel.

"Kairos!” The Shaman snarled, runes of golden light burning across her skin. “You dare?”

The Azure Angel's heads turned to the Shaman, one head beautiful and entrancing beyond measure, the other so repulsive that words could not suffice to describe it.

“Anathema!” The Angel laughed. “It is good to see you.”

“Anathema,” The Angel sneered. “How terrible to see you.

The Shaman's hateful gaze burned. “Tzenteech and his damned schemes,” She hissed. “Not today.”

Her will flowed into the planet, into Fenris-

No, not into Fenris.

The human souls that Fenris sheltered.

The souls heard the call of the God of the Dead, and they answered.

Ghosts that had been dead for millennia arose from their slumber, empowered by the call of the Shaman, adding their strength to Fenris.

Their hands tugged at the chains that had been wrapped around Fenris, pulling them apart, unlocking them, shattering them. 

Meanwhile, the Azure Angel and the Shaman continued their dance, a storm of magic raging around them.

“What are you really up to, Fateweaver?” The Shaman snapped, her voice crackling with flame and lightning. “This entire scheme…it is too prosaic. I know you must have seen the outcome before it happened. You knew Isha and I would be here to stop you. What is your game?”

“There is no game,” The Angel said, its voice a melodious song. “We simply saw our chance and took it.”

“The game will reveal itself in due time,” The Angel said, its voice a hideous shriek. “You shall see.”

The Shaman only seemed incensed by that answer, and a golden inferno erupted out of her, straight towards the Angel.

The Azure Angel laughed and cried.

“We shall see each other again soon, Anathema,” The Angel giggled.

“We shall not meet again for a long time, Anathema,” The Angel wept.

And then it was gone.

The Shaman let out a scream of pure rage, but then reigned herself in.

She vanished in a flare of golden light but this time she did not reappear.

Instead, the Warrior became the Thunder King once more as his essence merged back into one.

“Time to finish this, Doombreed,” The Thunder King snapped. “You have avoided death for too long.”

For the first time, the Wolf's shard chuckled and spoke. “I'm afraid not. We must continue this some other time, old friend. But a good general knows when to retreat…”

And then Doombreed was gone.

The Thunder King seemed genuinely astounded for a moment, but then his surprise was replaced by utter outrage.

“That damn-” He swore before cutting himself off.

Instead, the Thunder King turned his attention to the portal, even as the spirits he had awakened continued to undo Fenris's bindings.

And the All-Mother was still lost to her rage, Fenris realized with despair.

She had not answered Fenris's cry, had not turned away from her enemy for even a moment.