In the shadow-realm of the Kingdom of Disorder, Nareth stared at the half-bat, half-humanoid Khrave Progenitor opposite him.
"Have you finished reading it? The contract I offer you is fair. It is your only choice now."
The Progenitor did not answer, instead scrutinizing each High Gothic word on the parchment.
[Ulman shall serve Nareth, executing all of his commands, including but not limited to mental possession, source-domain navigation…]
[Ulman and his population may engage in mental possession, devouring inhabitants of the material world, but the targets must not be human.]
[Ulman and his population are not permitted, without authorization, to take any action against the Shadows of Order, its allied forces, or its worlds.]
[...]
Ulman's tendrils twitched. Though Nareth had imposed restrictions that drastically narrowed their hunting grounds, it was still an opportunity for his race to survive.
And, his clan was no longer what it once was. He was the only one left.
In the past, with clans numbering in the thousands, the loss of humanity as a food source would have been disastrous.
Now, it would take him at least tens of millions of years, using his psychic power, to re-establish a new Nest-Web.
Perhaps, for the entirety of his existence, he would never again have to worry about finding prey.
Ulman raised his head, the black crystal spirals on his upper chest pointed at the black armor.
"I agree." With a sweep of his claw, he branded "Ulman" onto the parchment.
For the survival of his race, Ulman, in humiliation, signed the contract.
A Progenitor who had destroyed countless worlds over millions of years would now serve his food.
Nareth took the "Shadow Contract." He had not chosen his contractor at random.
The Khrave King would be used as a potion ingredient when he advanced. The Progenitor who had fought Angron was a warrior. The oldest, whom Corax had faced, was a living archive of history.
Only the two who had seized the Lion's arms were adept at concealment. Otherwise, they could not have evaded the senses of the Lion, honed in the forests of Caliban.
It was Ulman's exceptional psychic concealment that Nareth needed for his plan to secure Necare's head.
As he raised his hand to sign, he moved his mind. The terms of the contract subtly shifted.
Small, shadowy words appeared between [Ulman] and [shall serve Nareth].
[And, with him as its core, the entire Nest-Web, and all the Progenitors it may birth...]
The shadow-word [Progenitors] vanished as soon as it appeared.
Nareth stared at the final wording. [Ulman, and with him as its core, the entire Nest-Web, shall serve Nareth, executing all of his commands...]
'The Progenitor's power is far greater than the Hrud or Etrich, whom I experimented with before using the Blade of Shadows.'
'Any alteration of the contract to my benefit can only be done within certain limits.' As Nareth pondered, he signed his name.
He looked at Ulman. "Now is the time to show your worth."
"I am in a contest of Warp navigation with Magnus."
The Progenitor's tendrils flicked with contempt. "Humanity's crude navigation techniques are beneath contempt."
Nareth moved his mind, returning Ulman to the real world.
Ulman felt the black mist around him vanish. His psychic senses found no trace, just as when he had been swallowed.
"Conceal yourself."
With a word, Nareth commanded. Ulman instinctively obeyed, his body growing ethereal.
A flicker of light, and he realized what he had done.
'The contract... it holds power over me. I must obey its terms.' Ulman, fading like a rubbed-out mark, understood.
Nareth walked towards the bridge. Ulman followed, hidden from view, keeping to the shadows.
The Progenitor's tendrils twitched. His consciousness spread.
He followed his innate connection, through layers of "fabric," to the source domain.
He extended his awareness, seeping into the Khrave's dimension.
Boom!
A psychic scream hammered at him.
The Progenitor's body, barely holding its aetheric concealment, wavered. He stared in sorrow at his home.
Wraiths drifted through the void. Silent web-ships and pods drifted.
'Only I remain. I bear the weight of my race's survival.'
His consciousness heavy, yet adrift, he drifted.
Suddenly, his tendrils twitched. A familiar sensation.
He found himself seated on his shadowy throne.
"Nareth!" His hateful cry echoed through the Khrave mental network, met only by silence.
His War Crown trembled. Ulman extended his awareness, reaching towards the Shadow's Sovereignty.
Aboard the Photep, Magnus's eye shifted to purple as he stared at the Great Ocean.
The black fleet surged forward, transforming into streaks of color, flashing past the Thousand Sons fleet.
'Impossible? Only thirty-three minutes have passed.'
Santiago, his eyes gleaming, thought, 'Praise my Lord!'
'Magnus's display has been outdone by my Lord.'
'He thought we would be idle for nine hours. He underestimated my Lord's power.'
He raised his head, turning to face Magnus.
Magnus's eye flickered to red, his gaze blazing.
In Ahzek Ahriman's quarters, he looked at the Remembrancer, Lemuel Gaumon, opposite him.
"What do you know of the Great Ocean?"
"My lord." Lemuel took a deep breath. He didn't know why he was receiving such attention, with two Magister Templis of the Thousand Sons teaching him.
Hathor Maat, had temporarily gone to the Shadow's Sovereignty to attend Lord Nareth. He was now being taught by Lord Ahriman.
He remembered Lord Nareth's cryptic words when he had met him: "You will learn all you need from the Thousand Sons."
'Lord Nareth foresaw all this. Who says he has no prophetic power? Absurd.'
He gathered his thoughts and answered.
"It is a higher plane of existence, a psychic space. It allows void-ships to travel at great speed..."
Ahriman listened to Lemuel's answer and spoke.
"All of that is correct, but the Great Ocean is far more than that."
"I have traveled the Great Ocean for over a century, seeing countless possible futures."
"This is not difficult; even mortals occasionally receive visions in dreams. But to interpret them, that is the province of prophets."
"Can I learn to interpret them?" Lemuel pressed.
"No," Ahriman, shook his head.
"To interpret the currents of the Great Ocean and extract meaning from chaos requires decades of training in the Corvidae Cult.
"You must Progenitor two modes of thought. The first is to switch quickly and accurately between concepts, to synthesize many ideas into one."
"The second is to halt your thoughts completely, to dissect a single concept."
He smiled. "The modifications I underwent granted me an eidetic memory, enabling me to do these things."
Ahriman saw the longing and regret in Lemuel's eyes. He was about to continue when he felt the ship shudder.
His eyes grew deep, his consciousness extending through the hull.
"My lord..." Lemuel, seeing Ahriman lost in thought, called out cautiously.
Ahriman withdrew his consciousness, as if returning from a long journey. He said, with a sigh,
"Lord Nareth's understanding of the Warp far exceeds my expectations."
'Of course.' Lemuel seemed to see the majestic figure before him again.
Aboard the Photep, Khalophis, watched the Great Ocean. The crimson and black fleets, like shooting stars, flashed past each other.
The black fleet surged ahead. The crimson ships were not far behind.
He watched the two streams of meteors, 'A tie is the best outcome.'
...
Aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty, in a corner of the upper deck.
Petronella Vivar, in a pink dress, poured a cup of coffee for Wissel Visscher, the Shadows of Order's Chief Navigator.
Wissel raised the gold-rimmed cup, taking a sip.
"Anubian coffee beans. Far richer than the swill from the officer's deck Moka machine."
"Thank you for your hospitality."
Petronella glanced at the ornate jewels on Wissel's forehead.
"You've helped me so much. This is merely a small token."
"Can you give me a definite assessment of the contest between the two Primarchs, which is about to end?"
A flush of color touched Wissel's pale face. "Their mastery of Warp navigation almost makes me want to end my career and return to Uranus to manage my family's holdings."
"Fortunately, they have many other duties and won't be navigating all the time." She gave a self-deprecating laugh.
"It was a display of virtuosity. They kept setting traps for each other."
"The whole voyage was lengthened by five months because of their duel."
"So, who won?" Petronella's eyes gleamed.
"Neither. Both fleets arrived at the anchor point simultaneously and are about to translate into realspace."
The memory quill, reading Petronella's surface thoughts, tapped on her datapad.
'Both Lord Nareth and Lord Magnus possess a profound understanding of the Warp, even the Chief Navigator expressed her admiration...'
Aboard the Photep, Magnus, seated on his command throne, his eye gleaming silver, thought,
'Nareth's mastery of Warp navigation is surprisingly not inferior to mine.'
His eye shifted to gold. 'No, I also hold the Webway's secrets.'
'Nareth is still inferior to me.'
As Magnus pondered, in the final moment of the 30th Millennium, the fleets of the Thousand Sons and the Shadows of Order translated into the Ullanor system.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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