The First and Last Curtain Call

142. The First and Last Curtain Call

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Gales howled, gravity twisted, and the sky poured downward.

The grand buildings, designed around arcs and angles, shattered one after another. Their severed cross-sections stood bleak atop the dense towers. Domes that emphasized curves and thinness rose into the sky, veiled in light alongside the enormous wraithbone used as construction material. Like the mysterious ocean after the wreck of a colossal ship, the building complexes floated in the air, buffeted by turbulent currents of Psychic Power.

Shadows hung over the raised and sunken runes on the walls. The glory and debauchery of a civilization had been condensed into a few lines of praise, yet now they seemed so futile and fragile.

The Eldar had woven reins from their own indulgence and arrogance, completing the noose of desire that strangled them.

As an entire race wept and wailed, singing and laughter continued unabated.

Tall, beautiful corpses formed a lofty dais, tears of utter terror hanging at the corners of their eyes. Amid the death and revelry they had piled high, the youngest Queen laughed and sang, her six arms beating time as she celebrated Her awakening.

Beneath Her, the corpses of the Eldar gods formed a lotus throne. They had been toyed with and torn apart. Before the god nurtured by the desires of the entire Eldar Imperium, the Eldar gods were more like children, with only a scattered few escaping the cage of desire.

Of that arrogant and absurd realm of gods, only the youngest one with a serpent's tail and six arms remained to sing.

How joyous She was, Her serpent tail coiling around the Phoenix King and the foremost of gods!

How greedy She was, one hand with long, delicate fingers and a fat palm. A mountain of gold