Warhammer 40k: Rise of the Great Horned Rat

Chapter 166 166: The Call of Commorragh

The Warp had been plunged into a state of extreme instability following the Great Horned Rat's recent machinations. While the galaxy at large suffered, none felt the agony more acutely than Commorragh. The Drukhari are, without exception, the race that harbors the deepest dread of psychic phenomena in the cosmos.

Driven by the Great Horned Rat's apotheosis and its subsequent clash with Slaanesh, massive empyrean tsunamis battered the Webway of the Old Ones. Reality buckled, and the Warp bled through breached nodes directly into the Dark City.

The resulting chaos pushed Commorragh to the brink. Hordes of Warp-entities manifested within the sub-realms, while a series of Dysjunctions tore through the spires, leaving the metropolis in shambles. This sequence of catastrophes left Asdrubael Vect, the Supreme Overlord of the Dark City, reeling. His authority, already weathered by the rise of the Ynnari, was further eroded by his perceived inability to contain the localized collapse of reality.

Thus, when Lelith Hesperax, Queen of the Wych Cults, made her return to Commorragh, Vect's agents intercepted her immediately. The Queen of Knives was "invited" to an audience with the Tyrant of the Dark City. To their surprise, she agreed; Lelith knew well that to operate within the Dark City, one eventually had to dance with Vect.

This was Lelith's first face-to-face encounter with the Lord of the Dark City since she abandoned Commorragh to follow Yvraine. Flanked by dozens of scantily clad handmaidens and a phalanx of Incubus bodyguards, Vect awaited her.

"You have returned at last, Lelith," Vect spoke, his voice a rasping, terrifying croak. "You know I have always been... infinitely indulgent where you are concerned."

Tolerance, of course, did not exist in Vect's vocabulary. However, with his grip on power slipping, he desperately needed Lelith's unparalleled prestige to re-establish his absolute hegemony. Already, Lady Malys of the Kabite of the Poisoned Tongue had begun a subtle campaign to undermine his rule, capitalizing on the recent disasters.

But Lelith and her kin no longer cared for the petty squabbles of the Dark City. She had spent a lifetime chasing the ultimate thrill, and nothing compared to the lethal stakes of the Ynnari's crusade.

"Oh, such a charming performance," Lelith replied, her tone dripping with casual disdain. "But I am currently engaged in something far more exhilarating than anything your arenas could offer."

Vect's eyes narrowed, taking on the predatory glint of a beast about to strike. "Are you referring to that runaway slave, Yvraine? Is she still chasing her delusions? And are you truly so easily deceived by such low-born filth?"

"Deceived?" Lelith rolled her eyes, suppressed a smirk as she recalled standing before the manifest power of a Chaos God.

Compared to the formless, cosmic horror of the Warp, the creature before her seemed like little more than the chieftain of a frantic ant hill, barking orders into the void. Her respect for him had vanished entirely.

"You have no conception of what we are doing, my esteemed Lord Vect."

"And what, pray tell, is so monumental that you would dare reject my offer?" Vect sneered.

"I have come for Isha. We are gathering a host to reclaim the Mother Goddess from her imprisonment."

The declaration sent a shockwave through the gathered Drukhari. None dared move, knowing their master's legendary hatred for the divine. Predictably, Vect did not offer support; he offered mockery.

"Hahaha! First the Whispering God, Ynnead, and now Isha? Your mind truly has rotted. Perhaps I should have it cut out to see exactly how much that wench Yvraine has scrubbed from your skull!"

As the words left his lips, two Mandrakes surged from the shadows at Lelith's feet, their xenos bale-blades whistling toward her neck.

But they were facing the Queen of Succubi. Unarmored, clad only in her ritual combat silks, Lelith moved like a dancer, evading the blades with effortless, millimetric precision. Her twin knives flashed in a blur of silver, carving intricate patterns into the Mandrakes' flesh.

With two muffled thuds, the assassins collapsed, dead before they hit the floor.

"Your toys are getting dull, Asdrubael," Lelith grinned, her striking features taking on a gore-slicked, predatory beauty. "Without me, does anyone even watch the displays in the Crucibael anymore?"

Vect's eyes flared with suppressed rage as he stood abruptly. Nearby warriors leveled their splinter rifles at Lelith, yet she remained unfazed, meeting the Tyrant's gaze with a mocking smile.

Vect knew he could not kill her. The Wych Cults held too much sway in the Dark City, and Lelith was their undisputed icon. To execute her now would give Lady Malys the opening she needed to tear his empire apart. Furthermore, he wasn't entirely certain he would survive her desperate counter-attack.

Reluctantly, he let her walk away.

"Farewell, you selfish fool," Lelith called out over her shoulder, throwing a playful, defiant smirk at the master of the city.

"Follow her," Vect hissed to his agents. "See where she goes."

A pack of Kabalite trackers shadowed her openly, but their trail ended quickly. Their corpses were soon found discarded in the gutters of the lower spires. Lelith had transitioned seamlessly from the territory of the Kabal of the Black Heart into the domain of the Poisoned Tongue.

Anticipating her arrival, the agents of Lady Malys, masters of the unseen blade, had efficiently liquidated Vect's tail. They guided Lelith into the inner sanctum of their Archon.

"And so you arrive, my dear Lelith," said Lady Malys. With her impeccably styled black hair and sharp, elegant features, she stood as the second most powerful figure in Commorragh, the only one who consistently defied Vect and lived to tell the tale.

She greeted Lelith with a warm embrace, stroking the Succubus's cheek like a doting sister.

"I have come to seek your aid, My Lady," Lelith said with a sharp smile. "You may find our objective... ambitious. We intend to rescue Isha, alongside Yvraine."

"Oh, I believe you. I have been watching," Malys replied with a knowing smirk. "My psychic thralls have already informed me of Eldrad Ulthran's movements. I must say, it is masterful. While Vect plays his little games in the Dark City, he fails to see that the era he built ten millennia ago is crumbling. He has lost the instinct to seize the future."

"Then I have your support?" Lelith asked, picking up a delicacy from a nearby tray and popping it into her mouth.

"Of course. The Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue and my allies will stand with you," Malys said, hiding a confident smile behind her iron fan. "As for the Wych Cults... I suspect your word carries far more weight there than mine."

"Naturally," Lelith replied as she turned to leave. "If they have forgotten their Queen, I shall remind them, in the manner of Khaine."

As Lelith's slender silhouette vanished, Malys immediately ordered her agents to spread the word: The Ynnari are coming to reclaim Isha.

While many Drukhari claimed to be atheists, the prospect of the Mother Goddess was intoxicating. With Isha, the plight of the Aeldari could be mended; their souls might finally be shielded from the eternal hunger of She Who Thirsts. Malys knew that for such a prize, countless Kabals would flock to the cause.

And for her, it was the perfect gambit to finally unseat or break the power of Asdrubael Vect.

Simultaneously, Yvraine and Eldrad were securing the allegiance of the Craftworlds—Iyanden, Alaitoc, Ulthwé, Saim-Hann—and even the scattered tribes of the Exodites.

An unprecedented host, spanning every faction of the Aeldari race, was beginning to coalesce. Observing the fruition of his labor, Lucius felt a surge of pride. Not every traveler between worlds could claim to have orchestrated an Aeldari Great Crusade.

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