Collapse of the Eldar Pantheon
A long, long time ago, so long that even Eldar himself only has vague myths and legends left, the goddess of life Isha lived in her Garden of Life.
That is the most beautiful part of Eldar Pantheon - not the kind of beauty that is heavily made up and deliberately carved, but a beauty that is natural, flowing, and as clear as a stream.
The grass is covered with small lavender flowers, each one swaying gently and each one singing silently.
There are clear streams among the woods, and there are luminous fish swimming in the streams. Those fish are not created, but are born from the water by themselves, just like life itself.
Isha likes to grow flowers.
Every morning, she would carry a small basket, walk barefoot on the grass, and collect the petals that were wet with dew.
Her toes are round and white, stepping on the tips of tender green grass without bending any grass.
Her long hair is pale golden and hangs down to her waist. The ends of her hair are always stained with a few tiny petals, which are gifts given to her by the flowers when she walks through the flowers.
Her face is gentle and kind, with a natural compassion in her eyebrows, like a Virgin who has seen all the suffering in the world but still chooses to be gentle.
She is tall and plump, with curves as gentle as the contours of hills. She wears a white Greek robe with a golden ribbon tied around her waist.
Her authority is simple - life.
It is the power that comes from nothing, from death to life, from decay to rebirth.
It sounds powerful, but in a place where gods fight like Eldar Pantheon, "simple" often means "useless".
The forging god next door builds artifacts every day, and can break a planet in half with one hammer.
The war god next door, Kaine, carries his sword and goes around looking for people to challenge him to a duel. When he cuts people down, he is like a tiger.
Next door, Laughing God Cegorach was watching the show with a teacup in hand. After watching the movie, he even posted a like in Moments.
And what about her?
She can plant flowers.
Plant lots and lots of flowers.
That day, Isha was pruning her rose bushes.
It was a new variety of rose. The petals were dark purple with a gold edge. The flowers were as big as a sea bowl and the fragrance was so rich that it seemed like it was turning the air into wine.
It took her three thousand years to cultivate this plant. From the germination of the seed to the blooming of the first flower, every leaf was poured into her Psionic Energy.
She squatted in front of the flowers, holding a small pair of golden scissors in her hand, and carefully cut off a dead branch.
The scissors made a clear "click" sound, which was like a baby's laughter, and she couldn't help but curl up the corners of her mouth.
Then, she heard screaming.
It was not the scream of one person, but the deafening, heart-rending scream of the entire Eldar Pantheon at the same time.
The screams came from all directions, from the sky, from the earth, and from every brick and stone in every temple.
Isha's hand shook and he almost dropped the scissors to the ground.
She raised her head and looked in the direction of Eldar Pantheon, her gentle blue eyes full of confusion.
What happened?
In the distance, in the direction of Eldar Pantheon, the sky turned a weird pink.
That pink color is not the tenderness of sunset, but a sickly, monstrous color, like the tender flesh exposed after some kind of flesh is torn apart.
A huge, twisted figure slowly rose from the skyline. It had six arms, each holding a pair of swords burning with pink flames.
Its body is slender and charming, and its face is as delicate as a work of art, but there is no mercy in its eyes, only a naked, crazy greed, like a hungry wolf seeing a lamb.
Slaanesh.
Isha's flower scissors completely fell to the ground.
She remembered.
A few days ago, the God of War Kaine once complained at a banquet, saying that a powerful negative energy appeared on the edge of Warp. The energy was so terrifying that even a reckless man like him felt his scalp numb.
The King of Gods Asuryan held the wine glass and said lightly, "You cannot violate the destiny, let nature take its course."
The God of Forging shrugged and said, "I didn't make it."
Laughing God Cegorach made a haha and said, "It's none of my business anyway."
No one took it seriously.
Now, that thing is knocking on the door.
Slaanesh's double swords swept across Eldar Pantheon.
It requires no skill, no strategy, or even force.
Wherever its two swords passed, Aeldari Gods's divine body was cut in half like paper.
The pink flame attached to the blade burned on the wounds of the gods, swallowing up their Psionic Energy essence bit by bit, turning it into nourishment for Slaanesh itself.
There was chaos in Eldar Pantheon. Some gods tried to fight back, but their weapons were like toys in front of Slaanesh.
Some gods tried to escape, but Slaanesh was much faster than them.
Some gods try to negotiate terms, but Slaanesh's twin swords cannot speak.
"Does your melon stay ripe?"
Slaanesh stood in front of an unknown god of art with a smile, the pair of knives crossed on the other's neck.
Its voice was as soft as a lover's murmur, but there was no warmth in those eyes.
The God of Art looked at Slaanesh in horror, his body was shaking, and his Psionic Energy was falling apart.
He opened his mouth and wanted to say "keep it cooked", but before he could speak, Slaanesh's two swords had already been closed.
A flash of pink sword light flashed, and the head of the God of Art flew high into the air, spun several times in the air, and then fell to the ground, rolling to the feet of Isha.
Isha lowered his head and looked at the head.
The head's eyes were still open, its mouth was still open, and the last moment of panic was still frozen on its face.
Her heart suddenly shrank. That kind of fear was beyond her control. It was the instinctive reaction engraved deep in the genes of the prey when it saw a natural enemy.
Slaanesh raised his head and stared at her with those strange eyes.
Isha's body froze.
She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't work.
She wanted to shout, but her throat made no sound.
She just stood there motionless, still holding the golden flower scissors in her hand, like a frightened statue.
Slaanesh walked towards her, his pace was neither urgent nor slow, with a calmness like a cat catching a mouse.
Every step is as light as a dance, and every step carries an irresistible pressure.
Its two swords rotated in its hands like two pink moons.
Isha took a deep breath and made the fastest decision in her 65 million-year career as a god.
She bent down, picked up the flower scissors, and held them in her arms.
When Slaanesh walked in front of her, she raised her head and looked at Slaanesh with her gentle and innocent blue eyes. Her lips trembled slightly and she squeezed out what she thought was the most sincere, innocent, and most unbearable smile.
"Keep it cooked," she said, her voice as soft as the spring breeze blowing across the lake, "Absolutely kept cooked."
Slaanesh's knife stopped in mid-air.
Those strange eyes stared at Isha for a long time.
Then, Slaanesh smiled.
The laughter was like silver bells, like wind chimes, like some bone-softening chuckle that could only be heard at the most extravagant banquets.
It stretched out its hand, pinched Isha's chin with its slender fingers, lifted her face up, and turned her left and right, as if she was looking at a newly purchased piece of jewelry.
"It's interesting," Slaanesh said, "You know how to be considerate of others."
Isha's smile has not changed.
Her smile became even brighter, as bright as a blooming rose, as bright as the brightest sunshine in spring.
But in her heart, she was already thinking about how to spend the next days.
Slaanesh's temple, I heard that place is very scary.
It was full of all kinds of unnamed torture instruments, each one emitting a light that made people blush and make their hearts beat.
She had heard about the treatment of those unlucky ones who were captured - things like slides, dumplings, swings, in short...
Just thinking about it made her face turn red.
It wasn't fear, but an indescribable shame.
She even thought about it, if Slaanesh really did something to her, she would close her eyes and experience the beauty of the birth of life.
After all, she is the goddess of life. Although she has not personally experienced the birth of life, she still has rich theoretical experience.
Maybe we can even leave behind a famous painting that has been handed down from generation to generation - the goddess of life with a delicate figure and a face that looks like a mature woman is suppressed by a handsome man with an equally beautiful figure but a more frivolous face.
That picture is so beautiful just thinking about it. It can probably be hung on Emperor's Golden Throne, allowing all mankind to admire the power of Chaos Gods.