Craftworlds were not only homes to the living, but to the dead as well. Within the Infinity Circuits made of Wraithbone dwelled the souls of ancestors. These souls possessed no individual thoughts, existing instead as a collective consciousness.
The Necrontyr believed their atrocities had been perfectly concealed, but their soulless nature made them clumsy and inept when it came to understanding souls.
They interpreted the flickering of the Infinity Circuit merely as regular energy fluctuations, unable to hear even a hint of words within the souls' screams.
Yvraine heard them. Cradled by the souls of her ancestors, she listened. She learned of the Executioner Dynasty's atrocities and of the inhuman experiments conducted by Szeras the Illuminator. She ground her teeth in fury, then helplessly unclenched her fists.
At least the outcome was good...
That was what the seers of both Craftworlds said. They had accepted the truth and were prepared to bury it deep and forget it. Not everything ought to be spoken aloud.
Looking toward the battlefield, she saw the blood of her kin being spilled. Again and again, she sent requests to communicate with the Drukhari, only to receive curses and a cacophony of noise.
"You weaklings! Cowards! When I die, I shall return gloriously to the embrace of the Black Muse! We are the true executors of the Imperium's will!"
The Black Muse... Yvraine knew a little about that god as well. The residents of Commorragh did not worship the Aeldari gods of the pantheon. They believed those gods, devoured by Slaanesh, deserved only contempt. They worshipped only the Black Muse, the symbol of selfishness and evil.
What exactly were these gods? To be honest, Yvraine had never closely studied the culture of her fallen kin. Dealing with the wanton Lady Malys in the arena had already