I remained thinking of this while keeping my senses alert. I could see flayed skin and twisted smiles of glee on the Drukhari's faces, their every move reaping more agony across the tower that seemed to shake to life with the dying breaths of hundreds of Dark Eldar.
Even in this state, I could feel my soul gaining more power with each passing moment. The agony seemed to fuel something primal within me, and excess life force filled my body, which had begun to grow significantly faster. I could tell not long would pass before my birth.
Every facet of my being seemed inexplicably larger than when I was human, every emotion and thought a thousand times stronger than I had ever perceived possible. My anger could power stars with its heat. The love I felt for those I cared for seemed to overwhelm my senses. I could feel everything, and it was the most perfect and scary sensation of my young life. I couldn't really understand how to control them, and thus they were expressed in every action my soul took.
I felt protectiveness over what belonged to me, and that aura covered the battlefield, hovering around to guard my mother. I knew she could sense it, but I didn't care; she needed to live, and the fight had picked up — it was a brawl, the last of the Archon's Sslyth guards fighting tooth and nail to keep the man alive.
The archon himself was tall and built far less lithe than most of the Drukhari females and males. He seemed like a strong man who put intense care into refining his body. His armor was serrated and had blades that caused him to bleed, though it did not affect his movements in any way.
He cleaved through the abominations sent to stall his retreat like a hot knife through butter; he cleaved them all into separate pieces, calmly walking towards his shuttle parked by the balcony. Mother was prepared and threw what looked like a glass ball at the shuttle, causing it to glass over and fall to the pits below.
"It's been some time, Bulery," Alera smiled, walking towards the man while killing the guards in her way. "Alera, truly a most unpleasant surprise," he smiled, throwing blades from behind his back.
"Remember when you cast me before the gaze of Asdrubael Vect, hoping to be rid of me, turned into some concubine for the lord?" she breathed heavily, still slicing her way through, growing with rage. I could see an aura that would burn space and time to ash warped around her empty, void-like soul.
"I was young then, trying to gain some pieces to rule over, and the one benefactor I had threw me to the wolves. I never once blamed you; it was all merely business," she continued, "but I never forgot." From behind the man stood his daughter. She had a striking resemblance to the man, both tall and well-built, with skin whiter than paper.
She was far more beautiful than I expected and had seen from most Dark Eldar. She had a rather large bust and shapely body, not as thin as most of the women here; she was built like an amazon with tattoos spread throughout her devilish body, only making her look more seductive.
I honestly felt my breath hitch looking at her. She was more gorgeous than almost any woman I had seen in this world. I could feel my mother's displeasure instantly as that thought crossed my head. She grabbed a splinter rifle from the ground and shot at him continuously.
Mother smirked despite herself, and the cult finished off the rest of the guards before beginning to loot the stores of the place. "Excellently done, Derreah," mother smiled and moved towards her. "I expect great things from you, Archon," she laughed out, carving symbols into her arms, all while smiling brightly.
"Absolutely, mistress." To her credit, she stood still without so much as a grimace and accepted the sigils and symbols being drawn onto her flesh. She seemed to notice my gaze through some manner and looked strangely at mother's stomach.
"You're?" she started before mother grabbed her neck and lifted her up. "One more word and I'll see if your brother would be a better fit for the chair." She nodded rapidly as her neck caved in with claw marks throughout.
"Let her live; she will be invaluable. I can sense she hasn't thought to betray you yet, mother." I sent my connection to her, and it was true, though I think I was saying so more because I found her stunning. "One pretty face and suddenly you're on their side," she grumbled but let go of her.
"I'll be sure to train that out of you," she said with a sadistic smirk, and I felt my body go cold for a moment. "As you please, mother," I said reluctantly.
We gathered our forces together, finished looting bodies, and capturing slaves, and departed, leaving the bulk of the mess for the new Archon under mother's command to deal with. I was left thinking on the flight back on the Torture Cruiser. Once again, I saw the Astartes, though much more bloodied; she seemed rather calm.
"Is she always so stoic?" I asked. "Well, she was quite the preacher to her dead god, but a decade of personal torture tends to make you more stoic," she chuckled, laughing at forgotten memories.
"I would like her in my retinue. I am quite interested in Astartes," I said after some thought. "That's acceptable, but she's a mere slave; no need to make a fuss. She is only as cognizant as she is useful." I agreed silently. I could feel she was more useful than mother gave her credit, but I paid it little mind.
She was blond, or I think she was. It's hard to determine color with the soul sense, with scars running down her left cheek, left as a permanent reminder of her folly in some war, I'm sure. She was being slashed at by some of the Drukhari in the ship for entertainment, used to enjoy their journey home. But her eyes seemed endless, and I could see things hidden in that gaze that I found immensely interesting.
"Mother, I don't believe it will be long before I am born. How long before I can commence training?" I was curious about the young life of Trueblood Drukhari.
"You'll be trained from the age you're able to walk till I feel you're ready to lead a small raiding party," she answered. "Likely you'll be able to walk around the age of one, maybe two depending. After that, you'll learn movement and runes, warfare tactics till you're five. At five, real combat training will begin." I closed my eyes in thought, excited for the future.
After what felt like a week, I could sense a change, and I knew it was time. Mother rushed herself to a med bay where a single human female in medical garb stood nervously.
"Use medical protocol 1-3," mother said, laying on the table, and instantly contractions began. I kept a vigilant eye on the woman while using the computer, and instantly various contraptions with different colored fluids injected themselves into Alera, and she began pushing.
I could feel myself being moved out, and with fifteen minutes of intense struggling, I was free. I was instantly assaulted with the cold, frigid air and almost cried out, but I could see, and god, everything was so blinding.
It was like colors had gained a new meaning; the world was sharper and more perfect. I could stare at them forever. I looked at my mother, and she looked tired but safe. I smiled and babbled, trying to speak. I sent my soul to her and said, "Beautiful." I could feel myself grow tired. I nursed, eyes half-lidded, and drifted off to sleep.
"My beautiful Ezdazar, mother will ensure your rise in this place, my one weakness," Alera looked at him lovingly. "Begin the purge. I want the spies we are aware of dead and gone now." Alera turned to the human and grunted, standing up, and walked swiftly towards her chambers. Shadows moved out of the room, and the surrounding grew much colder; the sounds of screams filled the tower that night.
One year later
A young boy who, if human, would look more like a five-year-old than a mere year. He was tall, even for a Drukhari of his age, a staggering 3ft 9in. He had midnight purple hair with the most captivating blazing purple eyes, staring intently at his current teacher, a young Dark Eldar proficient in poisons. "The Araxin toxins are excellent at breaking the senses of those affected, as can be demonstrated," the young wych slashed her blade at the man on the chair, showcasing the 15th poison or toxin of the day.
"I CAN'T SEE, PLEASE END IT, PLEASE! I CAN'T!" The man's complaints were cut short as a razor wire slashed his throat, and he died convulsing. "That ends today's lesson, I believe. I look forward to teaching you many more things, young master," the pretty wych said, touching my arms and looking into my eyes.
"Thank you, Viveth, your lectures are inspiring as always," I smiled brightly and kissed her knuckles. "I can't wait for our next session. I always enjoy the mind-breaking poisons you teach." And we walked to my next lesson before she departed rather briskly.
My mother stood in the doorway, glowering at the young wych leaving. I laughed, "You'll soon scare away all my teachers, mother." "That damned vixen knows what she's doing," she said reproachfully. I merely sat down and looked at her. "Sigh, today's lesson will be slightly different. Today, you'll watch a recent raid and experience what it's like." I nodded along, immensely surprised. I figured it would be soon that I'd get 'real combat' experience, but I didn't anticipate it happening so soon.
A rather large medusae walked in, a brain-like humanoid drawn by the suffering of mortals attached to a host and encased in metal. They are best described as freakish-looking, even by my now skewed standards.
A tentacle separated from its body, and my mother brought it over and handed it to me. I knew these creatures essentially acted as recording devices for the carnage, allowing one to feel as if they were just there, an excellent way for Drukhari to refuel, as it were.
I took a bite of the thing, and instantly I was transported to the battlefield—a human world, best I could tell, with large fleets of Drukhari raiding ships fast and agile, maneuvering through the world. It appeared to be a rather mundane medieval world, likely on some fringe of Imperial space. There was a small chapter of Astartes here, which looked very similar to the Ultramarine chapter. The rest of the defenders, if they could even be considered that, were knights riding clunky battle mechs, much too slow to target even the slowest attack cruiser. Some Mechanicus were there, rioting together with their lobotomized war machines, not that it mattered.
A single volley from a row of Scythe Missile Launchers annihilated the vast majority before the Corsair escorts got close enough to begin firing splinter rifles and ramming the ship's front blade into targets before flying back up with the enemy still impaled. Screaming in agony, the sensations of the war were astounding, like being in the beating heart of it myself.
I could see how Drukhari fought with speed and ferocity before leaving as if they were never there. The Astartes put up the bulk of the fight with their tactics. They led several assaults on the main ships of the Dark Eldar leaders, killing a few Corsair escorts and even damaging the hell out of a cruiser, almost disabling it before the last of the Marines were caught and shocked, poisoned, or bludgeoned unconscious, ready to be used in the colosseum.
The thrum of war shook my dark heart with excitement. The war brought vivid sensations, and watching the butchery take place was such a phenomenal experience that I was drawn to the fight my mother had with the Astartes Librarian. The man sent wave after wave of lightning towards her as she dodged, using the bodies of guardsmen to receive the brunt of the blows.
She did spins in the air, all while sending waves of blades towards the Astarte. Some hit, some scratched off some paint, but caused no damage. The man suddenly screamed, and a psychic blast shot out, crushing those around him in a wave of telekinetic force. His eyes glowed with a lightning blue.
"DIE XENOS! MAY THE EMPEROR'S LIGHT SHINE ON…" Before he could finish, a flash appeared, and before he could use his psychic potential, a glass ball rolled over to him, encasing him in a statue as a glass warrior still shining that hue of blue.
Alera merely laughed and launched herself back into the fray, while all Dark Eldar moved with grace. The most beautiful dancers on the stage of war were always the Succubi, honed with countless years of brutality. Their every move was like a dance the universe strummed itself to.
She danced and flew through the battlefield, catching rides on moving cruisers, flying close to the ground to grab slaves and return to the air. She jumped off moving debris and glided to enemy ranks, killing and slaughtering as she carved her way through the men of the Imperium.
While this wasn't by any means a heavily defended world, the ease at which the Drukhari killed was astounding. Even the weaker among the Dark Eldar could effortlessly end the lives of trained guardsmen.
Soon, the battle ended, and while there were some survivors, it was always better to leave some to terrify the masses when they came back to raid again. They returned to the Webway through the portal, and the vision ended.