Black Library.
This was the largest library in the Galaxy, without question.
Countless Wraithbone constructs floated beneath the vaulted ceiling, radiating a gentle spiritual glow. The lights gathered and dispersed like breathing, illuminating endless rows of shelves that stretched deep into the darkness.
Myriad pieces of profound knowledge, enough to make any scholar crack their head open, slumbered quietly here. Countless lies were born here, only to be exposed moments later and burst like bubbles.
Deep within the library stood a raised platform.
Upon it, a god dressed like a clown paced back and forth.
He was extremely slight of build, his face caked in thick makeup, his features obscured beneath some mysterious power.
Whenever he moved, the surrounding space seemed to become paint on an Impressionist canvas, swiftly smearing apart before just as quickly returning to normal.
His mannerisms were ridiculous and comical, every gesture carrying the exaggerated rhythm peculiar to circus performers.
Yet no one who knew this being's true identity would ever dare overlook him.
The Laughing God, Cegorach.
The sole surviving god of the Eldar Fall.
Below the platform, a group of Harlequins craned their necks and exchanged bewildered looks.
"How long has our boss been like this?"
A Horned One asked quietly, his tone full of undisguised confusion.
Standing beside him, the Veilwalker Sylandri stared strangely at the figure who occasionally leaped off the platform and then flipped back onto it. "—Ever since that aura which made all of us feel like we were about to die disappeared, Lord Cegorach has been like this."
Worry filled every Harlequin's eyes.
To them, their master's twitchy behavior had long been part of the daily scenery. But now, every Harlequin could tell—Lord Cegorach was genuinely anxious, perhaps even losing his mind.
*You never said you were performing personally