Stone me like your life depends on it.
The Aeldari moved through the ruins like a shadow, her steps silent, each movement light. Cassian followed, his power armor humming faintly, the Machine Spirit guiding his steps as he did his best to keep his bulk from making too much noise. Even with its guidance, he felt loud compared to his companion.
They slipped through crumbling archways, past twisted metal and stone. The city shifted around them, the shadows seeming to lengthen, the walls pressing in closer. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant wail of some unseen creature.
Cassian crouched behind a rusted column as the Eldari raised a hand, signaling him to stop. He strained his ears, heart pounding. Then he heard it — the low, wet sound of something breathing, the scrape of claws against stone.
A patrol emerged from the gloom, lumbering shapes moving through the street. Cassian froze, barely daring to breathe. The daemons slithered past, their forms shifting and warping, eyes glowing with unnatural light. One of them paused, its head twisting unnaturally, sniffing the air.
Cassian tensed. For a moment, he was sure it had sensed him. Then, with a low snarl, the creature moved on. The patrol vanished into the darkness.
Cassian exhaled slowly, feeling his muscles unclench. "Close," he muttered. The Eldari said nothing, glancing back at him with a look of disdain before slipping further into the ruins.
They traveled in silence for what felt like hours. The deeper they went, the more twisted the city became. Buildings leaned at impossible angles, stone and metal fused together like melted wax. The walls whispered, faint voices scratching at the edges of his mind. Shadows flickered, darting just out of sight.
He caught glimpses of the city's former inhabitants. They were twisted things now — flesh fused with metal, limbs elongated and bent at unnatural angles. Some still clung to echoes of their former lives, wandering aimlessly, muttering prayers to long-forgotten gods.
Finally, the Eldari led him into a darkened alcove beneath a collapsed archway. Strange runes glimmered faintly on the walls. Cassian leaned against the stone, catching his breath.
The Eldari stood across from him, arms folded, eyes narrowed. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then she broke the silence.
"You're loud," she said, her voice soft and cutting. "And slow. You would not last long here."
Cassian scowled. "I'm doing my best."
"Your best is barely adequate." She tilted her head. "Tell me, Mon-keigh, how did you come here or are you a native of this place.
He hesitated. She was dangerous — more dangerous than she let on. But there was no point in lying.
"I was on a ship," he said slowly. "Escaping." He took a breath, steadying himself. "The Gelmero Cluster is swallowed by a Warp storm. We couldn't travel through the Immaterium, so we had to go the long way — sublight. Supplies were running low. We found this planet… thought we could refuel, resupply." He shook his head. "That's when the horror started."
She regarded him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. "Foolish," she said quietly. "This is no place for the living."
"Yeah, I figured that out pretty quick." He rubbed his face. "What about you?"
For a moment, she said nothing. Then, quietly, she spoke. "I am here to hunt."
"Hunt?" Cassian frowned. "Hunt what?"
Her gaze darkened. "Once, there was one I called mentor. A Phoenix Lord. Fuegan, the Burning Lance." She looked away, her voice colder. "He is lost. Consumed."
"You're here to kill him."
She nodded slowly. "Or die trying."
They stood in silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Finally, she turned to him. "Why have you not tried fighting me like the rest of your kind, Mon-kleigh?"
Cassian hesitated. "What's the point?" He gestured to the city. "Even if I could… what would I gain?" He met her eyes. "You feel the same, don't you? There's no point in fighting. Not here."
She studied him for a moment, then exhaled, almost amused. "Perhaps you are not as foolish as you appear." She inclined her head slightly. "Faeveleth."
He blinked. "What?"
"My name," she said coolly. "Faeveleth."
Cassian hesitated before answering. "Cassian. Cassian Vale."
They stood in the dark, the city shifting around them. They would rest and gather their bearings as much as possible. For now, they wouldn't kill each other. But Cassian knew the truce wouldn't last forever.
—-
He shifted uneasily as Faeveleth regarded him in silence. The only sounds were the distant echoes of the city groaning under the weight of its own corruption and the faint scratching of wind against rusted metal. The air was thick, oppressive — a subtle reminder that this world was not just dying, but being devoured.
Faeveleth's sharp eyes narrowed. Cassian could feel them on him, like needles pricking at his mind. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to step back. The Eldar woman stood as if she were carved from stone, her stillness unsettling.
"You are a psyker," she said, her voice soft and cutting. "I suspected as much."
Cassian stiffened. "What of it?"
She tilted her head, her long hair shifting like dark silk. "Curious." Her gaze bored into him, and for a moment, Cassian felt as if something cold and foreign brushed against his thoughts — probing, testing. His mind recoiled instinctively, walls snapping shut around his consciousness.
Faeveleth arched a delicate brow. "Interesting."
"Stay out of my head," Cassian growled.
She chuckled softly, the sound cold and humorless. "You surprise me, Mon-kleigh. Your mind is not completely unguarded." Her expression grew distant, almost thoughtful. "But your defenses are crude. Weak. Against what stalks these ruins, they will shatter like glass."
Cassian shifted his weight, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "I've managed this far."
"Barely." She turned, her gaze sweeping over the twisted landscape. "The warp seeps into everything here. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, whispering sweet lies and darker truths. Even now, you hear it, don't you?"
He swallowed hard. "I manage."
"Fool." She looked back at him, eyes cold. "That which you 'manage' will consume you." She stepped closer, her presence looming despite her slender frame. "The Daemon you fled? It marked you. I can feel its gaze on your soul."
Cassian's breath caught. The memory of that terrible, alien presence pressing against his mind still lingered, like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts. He clenched his fists. "I didn't take the bait."
Her brow furrowed. "Bait?"
He hesitated. "It… offered me things. Power. Knowledge. I refused."
For the first time, something shifted in her expression — not quite respect, but perhaps a flicker of acknowledgment. "Wise. For a Mon-kleigh." Her gaze sharpened again. "But refusal is not enough. If you are marked, it will come for you again. You need to learn to protect your mind properly."
Cassian frowned. "And you're offering to teach me?"
She scoffed. "Do not mistake necessity for charity. Alone, you are a liability. If your mind breaks, you'll either die screaming or become another puppet for the warp." Her eyes glimmered with faint amusement. "Neither outcome serves me."
Cassian exhaled slowly, considering. She was right. The Warp's whispers were growing louder each day. Even in sleep, they slithered through his mind, probing for cracks. If he could learn to fight back…
"Alright," he said quietly. "Teach me."
Faeveleth inclined her head slightly, almost approving. "Good. Sit."
Cassian hesitated, glancing around. The ruins were quiet, but not silent. The shadows shifted unnaturally, and every breeze carried the faint stench of decay. "Here?"
"Do you see a safer place?" She gestured to the crumbling walls. "Sit."
Reluctantly, Cassian lowered himself to the ground, resting his back against a cold, rusted pillar. Faeveleth moved with eerie grace, settling cross-legged before him. For a long moment, she simply watched him, unblinking. Then she spoke, her voice low and steady.
"The mind is a fortress. Each thought a stone. Each memory, a wall." Her eyes gleamed faintly. "But your fortress is unguarded. Doors hang open. Shadows slip through the cracks."
Cassian swallowed, nodding. "How do I fix that?"
"Close the doors."
She reached out, one slender hand resting on his forehead. Her touch was ice-cold, and his breath caught as his mind suddenly… shifted.
He wasn't in the ruins anymore. Darkness surrounded him — vast and silent. He floated, weightless, in the void of his own mind. Shapes flickered at the edges of perception, whispers curling through the shadows.
"Focus," Faeveleth's voice echoed through the darkness. "Feel the walls of your mind. See them."
Cassian closed his eyes, concentrating. Slowly, the darkness shifted, resolving into a vast, silent fortress. The walls were cracked and crumbling, shadows slipping through the gaps.
"Rebuild," she commanded. "One stone at a time."
Cassian gritted his teeth. He reached out, imagining the stones sliding into place. The shadows hissed, resisting him, but he pushed harder. Stone by stone, he rebuilt the walls, sealing the cracks.
The whispers grew louder, angry. Cold tendrils of thought lashed at his mind, trying to tear down what he built. His heart pounded. Sweat trickled down his temple.
"Hold." Faeveleth's voice was sharp. "Do not waver."
He focused, pouring every ounce of will into the task. The shadows recoiled. The walls solidified. Bit by bit, the darkness retreated, until at last… there was silence.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the ruins. His body ached, and his head throbbed, but the whispers… they were gone.
Faeveleth watched him closely, her expression unreadable. "Not entirely useless," she muttered. "You might yet survive."
Cassian exhaled shakily. "Thanks… I guess."
She rose smoothly, brushing the dust from her robes. "Come. The hunt is not over."
Cassian pushed himself to his feet, the weight of his armor settling around him. As they moved deeper into the ruins, he felt different. For the first time in a long while, the whispers were silent.
—-
The ruins stretched out before them, a labyrinth of twisted steel and crumbling stone. Cassian walked behind Faeveleth, keeping close but careful not to let his boots scuff too loudly against the debris. The city's silence felt unnatural, the kind that pressed against his ears, making every distant sound sharper, more menacing. Even the air seemed heavier here, like the planet itself was holding its breath.
They moved in near silence, weaving through the wreckage, always careful to keep to the shadows. Cassian's eyes darted around constantly, scanning the streets for movement. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of… things. Silhouettes slipping through the fog. Shadows that moved against the faint red glow of the sky. Once, they heard the low, distant wail of something alive — and very, very large — echoing across the ruins. They pressed themselves into a broken alleyway and waited in silence until the sound faded.
Faeveleth glided ahead of him, her footsteps impossibly light, her every movement ethereal. Cassian wasn't sure if she was even touching the ground half the time. She moved like a fairy, and he felt like a lumbering beast by comparison.
After a time, when the silence stretched almost too long, she finally spoke — her voice barely a whisper.
"You walk like a Mon-kleigh."
Cassian scowled. "I am a human."
"Yes," she mused, glancing over her shoulder, "but you don't have to sound like one." She turned back, slipping through the ruins. "Your body is a conduit. Every step, every breath — all of it can be controlled. Refined."
Cassian frowned. "What are you saying?"
Faeveleth slowed, her gaze flicking briefly to the shadows before speaking again. "Psykers are not mere tools for hurling warp fire and screaming prophecies. The warp is… potential. Power. It seeps into everything — body, mind, and soul." Her voice grew softer, almost reverent. "You can use it. Shape it. Refine it."
They ducked under a collapsed archway, moving into what might have once been a plaza. Shattered statues and broken fountains loomed out of the darkness. Cassian kept his voice low. "What do you mean, 'use it'?"
Faeveleth slowed, turning her head slightly. Her eyes glimmered faintly in the dark. "You could empower your body," she said softly. "Let the Warp flow through your muscles, making you faster, stronger. It requires discipline — more than most Mon-kleigh possess." She smirked faintly. "But even you could learn."
Cassian hesitated. "And the risk?"
"Death." She shrugged. "Or worse."
He scowled. "Figures."
They moved in silence for a few moments more, weaving through the ruins. The only sounds were their footsteps and the distant groaning of the city. Then Faeveleth spoke again, quieter this time.
"There are other ways to wield the Warp. Warp fire, for instance." She gestured with a slender hand. "It is not merely flame. It is thought. Emotion. Will. A psyker can shape it, twist it — make it burn hotter than any mortal flame." Her gaze flicked to Cassian. "With enough control, you could incinerate a man's soul before his flesh even knew it was burning."
Cassian shivered. "And you're just… telling me this?" His voice was sharp, suspicious. "Why?"
Faeveleth slowed. Cassian stopped, watching her carefully as she turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something cold in her gaze — something ancient.
"Because you are weak."
Cassian stiffened. "Excuse me?"
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Do not delude yourself, Mon-kleigh. You are fragile. Pathetic. The only reason you still draw breath is because I have not decided to snuff it out." Her voice was quiet, almost gentle, and somehow that made it worse. "I could kill you with a flick of my finger. You would not even have time to scream."
Cassian remained silent. He took step back, but she followed, her gaze boring into his.
"I share this knowledge because you are of no threat to me. You are a speck of dust beneath my heel." She tilted her head. "But even a speck can serve a purpose."
Cassian was calm he already knew in grand scheme of things he was just a microcosm. But he still asked "And what purpose is that?"
"Survival." She turned away, continuing through the ruins. "If you die, I lose a set of eyes. A distraction. Perhaps even a weapon, if you live long enough to be useful." She glanced at him over her shoulder, smirking faintly. "Besides… I tire of the silence."
Cassian stared after her, his jaw tight. He wanted to argue. But he knew that if she wanted to eliminate him there is nothing he could do.
Taking a deep breath, he followed after her, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a stone. She was right about one thing, at least. If he wanted to survive, he needed to be stronger.
Much stronger.
—-
Word count 2450
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