"Knowledge is a double-edged Nexium blade; in the hands of a master, it illuminates the path to salvation, but in the grasp of a fool, it cleaves the very foundations of existence."
The shimmering tri-portal flickered into existence at the Grand Library's majestic entrance, its quantum energies momentarily distorting the air. Kallus Eldrath, his face etched with a weariness that belied his formidable Nexomantic power, stepped through. He adjusted his heavy, Nexirial-threaded robes that were the hallmark of his office as Keeper of the Nex. Usually, the robes brought him comfort, a sense of connection to the vast history and accumulated wisdom of the Eldrath Dynasty. Today, however, they felt like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the responsibilities he was struggling to shoulder. The recent… incident… with the Voidwalker haunted him like a persistent phantom. The image of the man, consumed by raw, uncontrolled Aethermancy. The whispers that had accompanied the event, the chilling pronouncements that seemed to slither from the very air, had left him shaken, questioning everything he thought he knew. He needed answers, and he needed them now. Here, within the hallowed halls of the Grand Library, amidst the accumulated wisdom of millennia, he hoped to find them.
The Grand Library lived up to its grandiose name, and then surpassed it. It was more than just a repository of knowledge; it was a living tribute to Eldrath's unmistakable dedication to the pursuit of understanding. Rising rings of shelves, constructed from what looked like solidified starlight, spiraled upwards into the impossibly high, vaulted ceiling. Each level, each layer, groaned under the weight of countless books, ancient texts, and holographic archives. These were not static objects, gathering dust and forgotten in the shadows. They floated, pulsed with faint Nexirial energy, their titles shifting and reforming as if eager to impart their secrets to those who sought them. Runes glowed softly on ancient bindings, languages long dead whispered from yellowed pages. The air itself hummed with barely perceptible Nexirial frequencies, a symphony of knowledge waiting to be unlocked.
Everywhere Kallus looked, sleek, silver figures moved with purposeful grace. These were Archivist Units, the tireless guardians and curators of this cosmic repository, dedicated to the preservation and dissemination of information. But these were not the blunt, utilitarian robots found on other Imperium worlds. The Archivists of Eldrath were different, unique in their design and purpose.
Their forms, while undeniably mechanical, possessed an almost ethereal quality, a refinement that reflected the Eldrath Dynasty's commitment to artistry and elegance. Their brass-coloured bodies were inlaid with intricate, glowing blue tracery, delicate Nexium conduits that pulsed with the same energy that powered Eldrath's most potent enchantments. These conduits, whilst not being simply functional; they formed intricate patterns, geometric designs that resonated with the subtle energies of the Nex. Their faces, though lacking organic features, held an expression of quiet intelligence, their optical sensors radiating a soft, welcoming light. These were machines, programmed to perform rote tasks; yet they were embodiments of Eldrath's pursuit of knowledge, infused with the very essence of Nexium, possessing an almost symbiotic connection to the Library itself. Each Archivist was connected to a central Nexirial generator, granting them access to all knowledge held within the library to allow it to effectively perform any of the tasks it was assigned.
One of them approached, gliding silently across the polished, obsidian floor. Its movements were fluid and graceful, almost dancer-like. Its voice, synthesised yet strangely resonant, broke the hushed reverence of the Library, its words echoing softly amongst the towering shelves.
"Keeper Kallus Eldrath," it intoned, its optical sensors focusing on him with unwavering intensity. "The Grand Library welcomes you. How may the Archivists serve in your pursuit of knowledge today?"
Kallus inclined his head, acknowledging the Archivist Unit with a gesture of respect. "Archivist Unit 734, I require assistance. My inquiries lie in… darker aspects of Nexirial practice. Specifically, texts detailing the manipulation of the Void and its influence on Aethermancy." He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I seek information regarding the knowledge of much darker magics than I usually come here for. I was hoping you could point me in the right direction."
The Archivist Unit's optical sensors dimmed momentarily, a faint whirring sound emanating from its internal mechanisms, a subtle indication of the complex calculations it was performing. The information Kallus sought was not readily available, locked away behind layers of security protocols. "As you are very much aware as leader of this dynasty, of course, this knowledge is carefully guarded," the Archivist responded, its voice taking on a more solemn tone. "Its misuse can have… dire consequences. Accessing these texts requires stringent verification. Please provide biometric confirmation to verify your identity and authorisation for access to restricted texts."
Kallus stepped forward and placed his hand on the Archivist's outstretched arm, his skin cool against the smooth, polished metal. A beam of blue light, crackling with Nexirial and technological energy, scanned his palm, analysing his unique Nexirial signature, verifying his identity and his authority. The process felt intrusive, a violation of his privacy, but he understood the necessity. The knowledge he sought was too dangerous to be entrusted to just anyone.
"Identity confirmed," the Archivist announced, its voice returning to its normal, even tone. "Authorisation granted. However, I must remind you, that the Eldrath Dynasty holds a sacred duty to safeguard knowledge, not to exploit it for destructive purposes. The path to understanding the Void is fraught with peril. Tread carefully, lest you be consumed by the darkness you seek to comprehend."
"My intentions are pure, Archivist," Kallus assured it, though a sliver of doubt lingered in his own heart, gnawing at his conscience. He wasn't entirely sure anymore. He had always believed in the power of knowledge to illuminate the darkness, but the events surrounding the Voidwalker had shaken his faith. "I seek to understand the nature of the threat we face, not to wield the power of the Void for my own purposes."
The Archivist Unit nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with his answer, though Kallus couldn't shake the feeling that it was still watching him, analysing his every move. The robot turned and led him deeper into the labyrinthine depths of the library, past shimmering waterfalls of data, cascading down crystalline structures, and holographic projections of forgotten empires, flickering like ghostly memories. The sheer scale of the library was staggering, a testament to the Eldrath Dynasty's centuries-long commitment to accumulating knowledge.
As they ventured further into the library's depths, the atmosphere subtly shifted, the vibrant Nexirial energy that permeated the outer sections gradually fading, replaced by a chilling sense of unease. The air grew noticeably cooler, the ambient light dimming to a melancholic blue, casting long, distorted shadows across the towering shelves. The very architecture seemed to change, the smooth, flowing lines of the outer sections giving way to sharper, more angular designs, reflecting the unsettling nature of the knowledge contained within.
They reached a section of the library that felt… different. While the rest of the Grand Library thrummed with vibrant Nexirial energy, this corner felt… muted, subdued, almost as if the very walls were holding their breath. An unnatural silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint hum of the library's core systems. Kallus felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a primal sense of danger that he couldn't ignore.
"The texts you seek are housed within this sector," the Archivist Unit stated, its voice barely audible above the oppressive silence. "I shall leave you to your research, Keeper. May knowledge guide your path… and protect you from the darkness." With a final, almost imperceptible nod, the Archivist Unit turned and glided back into the labyrinthine depths of the library, its silver form disappearing into the shadows.
Kallus stood alone, the silence amplifying the pounding of his heart. He felt as if he had stepped into a different world, a place where the laws of reality were subtly warped, where the shadows held secrets best left undisturbed. A chilling draft whispered around him, carrying the faint scent of dust and decay, the musty odor of ancient knowledge long forgotten. He ran his hand along the spines of the books, his fingers tracing the faded inscriptions. The titles were unsettling, ominous, filled with veiled threats and whispered promises: Shadows of the Nex, The Whispers of Oblivion, The Unmaking of Stars, The Grimoire of Lost Souls. He hesitated, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. This was dangerous knowledge, forbidden knowledge, the kind of information that could corrupt even the most virtuous soul. But the potential consequences of ignoring the Voidwalker's descent into Aethermancy, of allowing the darkness to rise unchallenged, were even more terrifying.
He reached for a particularly ominous-looking tome, bound in dark, scarred leather, its surface cold and smooth to the touch. The title was barely legible, etched in a language that seemed to writhe on the page, a dead dialect of ancient Nexomancers: The Voice of an Unknown Dark. The very sight of it sent a shiver down his spine, a primal fear that resonated deep within his soul. With trembling hands, he opened the book, the ancient binding creaking in protest.
The pages were filled with arcane symbols and terrifying illustrations, depicting grotesque figures and landscapes of unimaginable horror. Twisted figures, their bodies contorted into unnatural shapes, writhed in eternal torment. Stars exploded in silent screams, their light extinguished by the encroaching darkness. Kallus scanned the text, his eyes darting from passage to passage, piecing together fragments of forgotten lore, deciphering the cryptic language of the Void. And then, he found it.
A section dedicated to the rise of Aethermancy, not just as a historical phenomenon, but as a prophecy, a preordained event that was destined to unfold. The text spoke of a time when practitioners of the Void would multiply across the universe, their power amplified by a rising tide of darkness, their minds twisted and corrupted by the insidious influence of some dark being. And at the center of it all, a name that sent a shiver down Kallus's spine, a name that echoed with the chilling resonance of the abyss: Morrath.
The God of the Void.
Kallus had heard the name whispered only once before, during the war, in hushed tones by a dying Nexomancer, a master of the art who had dared to glimpse into the Void and been forever scarred by its horrors. The Nexomancer had raved about a being of unimaginable power, a primordial entity that embodied the darkness at the heart of the universe, a being that sought to extinguish all light and reclaim the cosmos for its own. Kallus had dismissed it as the ravings of a madman, a myth to frighten children, a story to keep young Nexomancers from delving too deep into the forbidden arts. But here it was, staring back at him from the pages of an ancient tome, a terrifying reality, a threat that could shatter the very foundations of existence.
The text continued, detailing Morrath's ultimate goal: to consume the universe, to unravel the fabric of reality and plunge everything back into the primordial Void from which it had sprung. According to the ancient texts, Morrath had once ruled the Nex itself, before the concept of light was even a thought, and he wishes to bring the universe back to its original form where all of reality would succumb to the eternal night. The book spoke of rituals and spells used by his followers to try and release him, many of which were performed throughout the known galaxies. Once awakened, Morrath would stop at nothing to extinguish the light and reclaim what he believed was rightfully his, plunging the universe into an eternal night of chaos and despair. The whispers of the void began to echo through the library as Kallus read, taunting and testing his mind.
Kallus slammed the book shut with a resounding thud, the sound echoing through the oppressive silence of the chamber. The darkness seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with its weight. Morrath. The God of the Void. The Voidwalker. Aethermancy. It was all connected, he realised with sickening certainty. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, revealing a terrifying picture of impending doom, the potential idea that Morrath may well already be on his way to being freed from the dark clutches of the Abyss. And he, Keeper of the Nex, had unwittingly set the stage for the end of everything, his quest to protect the Imperium potentially unleashing a force that could destroy it all. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, threatening to drown him in its depths.
He had to act, and he had to act quickly. But what could he do? How could he stop a god? How could they stop a God? The whispers of the Void swirled around him, taunting him with their promises of power, tempting him to embrace the darkness. He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint light of the Nex, drawing strength from its unwavering presence. He would not succumb to the darkness. He would not allow Morrath to consume the universe. He would find a way to stop him, even if it meant sacrificing everything. He stood tall once more, ready to face the dangers ahead.