City of Never Forgetting (Part 1)

He took another step onto the surface of this world, quietly listening to his breathing produce a steady vibration within his wraithbone armor.

The crosshair lens steadily scanned the wasteland in every direction, while his visual display continuously listed his vital signs.

Slowly, the gaunt figure carefully walked toward the wind.

Sand and dust swirled beneath his feet, all of it long-dried, dead silt with no possibility of nurturing life.

Accompanied by the soft rustle of grit in the breeze and the low hum of his armor, he contemplated in silence.

After a while, he turned to look at the archway that was close to collapsing.

The suddenly strengthening wind had already coated it in a thick layer of dark-red sand, just like the abundant dust that filled this world.

This world.

He thought it must once have had a name, though it had never been spoken by human lips.

The desolate, barren scenery reminded him of the Sinister Wasteland, but compared to that place, the sky here was far more peaceful.

He did not bother looking up. He did not need to, because there was nothing to see.

From one horizon to the other, there was only torn cloudscape rolling and churning, thunderheads crashing against one another and releasing white, purple, and countless shades of red.

This was the supreme rift, known to humans as Hanan, or the Warp.

He had witnessed it before, but never scenery like this.

Never a rift covering an entire world, never in a place where real weather still existed, and never waves so immense that they spanned space like tidal surges, like nebulae withering in the void.

"Eldar."

A breathless, genderless call came from behind him, where there had previously been no sign of life.

Diego did not turn around in haste, nor