The prow of the gargantuan Void Sword surged with psychic resonance. Under the influence of this warp-energy, its unique mechanical architecture clamped onto the Webway walls, systematically tearing them asunder. In the surrounding arterial capillaries of the labyrinthine dimension, countless Webway breaches were manifesting.
The corrupting power of Chaos bled into the tunnels, and daemonic entities coalesced from the vacuum, manifesting within the Webway's interior.
Deep within this extradimensional realm, bathed in an eerie, flickering luminescence, sat a city of cyclopean proportions. It bore the exquisite craftsmanship of the Aeldari, yet every spire and thoroughfare was saturated with an atmosphere of grotesque distortion and twisted insanity.
This was Commorragh, the Dark City, the wicked jewel of the Drukhari, exhaling a breath of frigid, predatory evil.
The warriors tasked with guarding Commorragh were a cadre of battle-hardened, remorseless mercenaries and kabalites. They were clad in ornate yet ghastly battle-plate, fashioned from xenos-hide, wraithbone-weave, and materials fused with occult crystals and complex alloys that shimmered with a cold, malignant luster in the gloom. The barbs and jagged edges of their armor seemed like physical extensions of their internal depravity, poised to rend any foe who dared approach.
Compared to their Craftworld kin, the Drukhari possessed the same tall, slender frames but were marked by a singular, predatory distortion. Their skin was a sickly, translucent pallor, appearing morbidly white in the dim light. Their eyes burned like baleful fires, devoid of pupils, containing only boundless greed and cruelty. Long, pointed ears twitched at the slightest vibration, forever alert to the myriad threats that plagued the Dark City.
However, the once-placid and resilient Webway was now succumbing to a network of fissures. Like deep-sea pipes bursting under impossible pressure, Warp energy geysered into the Webway like high-pressure seawater.
A massive daemon was the first to solidify its physical form. Its muscles were corded and bulging, covered in a layer of fiery-red scales that flowed like molten lava. Its immense head sprouted twisted horns, and its breath reeked of thick, suffocating sulfur.
The daemon unleashed a deafening roar, the sonic wave rippling through the Webway as if intent on shattering everything in its path.
"Hahaha! Look at this hideous mongrel daring to encroach upon our domain! Today is the day of your expiration! I shall tear your soul from that disgusting husk, the will of Vect is absolute!"
A Drukhari warrior laughed with manic intensity. He lunged forward like a bolt from a crossbow, his hand gripping a serrated blade that pulsed with a ghostly blue light.
The warrior crouched low, then blurred into motion, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The serrated blade whistled through the air, hewing savagely at the daemon's legs.
The daemon instinctively lowered its center of gravity, swinging a massive arm to crush the Aeldari. But the Drukhari's speed was preternatural; he evaded the blow with a contemptuous sidestep, his shimmering blade severing the daemon's arm entirely.
Ichor as red as sunset erupted alongside the daemon's agonizing roar, splashing across the Webway floor.
Nearby, several Drukhari Wyches in dark, flowing robes contorted their bodies in a pulse-pounding dance. They swayed in rhythmic, ritualistic patterns, releasing surges of emotional energy to fuel psychic-adjacent sorceries that scanned the surroundings. Under the protection of numerous warriors, Eldar smiths, responsible for the Webway, scrutinized the fracturing seams of the dimension.
Yet, the concentration of Warp energy in the atmosphere was rising with terrifying speed.
For the Drukhari, this was nothing short of a living nightmare.
More and more Chaos daemons manifested within the Webway, grinning maliciously as they surged toward the Dark City of Commorragh, spearheaded by Greater Daemons and Daemonic Overlords.
Unlike the Asuryani, who utilized Spirit Stones to evade the thirst of Slaanesh, the Drukhari had chosen a radically different path of survival.
They sought to satiate "She Who Thirsts" by torturing and slaughtering others, offering up stolen souls as a substitute for their own, thereby replenishing the essence constantly being drained from their withered spirits.
However, they remained willfully ignorant of the ultimate deception: Slaanesh's hunger is never truly appeased. Should they fall, the Dark Prince would claim their souls regardless. Indeed, because they wallowed in abduction, enslavement, and the most extreme excesses of cruelty, their souls were so saturated with negative emotion and depravity that they became the most delectable morsels for Slaanesh to torment in the afterlife.
In the heart of his palace, Asdrubael Vect listened with cold calculation to the reports of his subordinates. The schemers of the Kabal of the Black Heart were embroiled in a cacophony of accusations and debate. Many insisted this was the work of the Ynnari or the treachery of a rival faction.
Such rhetoric was standard in Commorragh. Even among other Aeldari, the Drukhari were viewed as madmen; among the Drukhari, the denizens of the Dark City were the maddest of all.
Vect cared little for who had engineered the plot; he had already made his contingencies. A specialized vessel stood ready for his departure.
He remembered when Yvraine had become the Emissary of Ynnead and forced open the Khaine's Gate within Commorragh, spilling the Warp into the city. On that occasion, as daemons rampaged through the streets, Vect, the Supreme Overlord, had been the first to flee. Only after his forces had cleared the daemonic infestation under his remote command did he resurface to hunt down the "daughter of shadows."
But the current crisis was far more severe than Yvraine's breach. Yvraine had merely opened a single portal; the number of daemons was finite.
Now, Vect's intelligence indicated that a full quarter of the Webway transit routes surrounding Commorragh were undergoing catastrophic structural failure. This would lead to hundreds of millions, perhaps billions, of daemons flooding into the Webway.
While Commorragh possessed incredibly advanced monitoring systems and defensive arrays, sensors that provided real-time tactical data and bastions equipped with formidable energy shields and weapon batteries, the Drukhari's numbers were finite. They could never win a war of attrition against the endless tides of the Warp.
Vect remained only because the city itself had not yet come under direct assault. The moment the risk became unacceptable, he would vanish with the Kabal of the Black Heart.
Meanwhile, a force of several thousand Drukhari was picking its way through the fissure-ridden tunnels. Their mission was clear: the master smiths had triangulated the source of the spatial anomalies. They had to reach the epicenter and discover exactly what was unravelling the Webway.
This expedition was led by a female Drukhari of exquisite dress, characterized by a frigid, aristocratic arrogance.
She was Aurelia Malys, Archon of the Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue.
Malys had once been Vect's consort before being cast out of his court when he grew weary of her. Enraged, she and her followers had departed Commorragh for the Webway. There, she had won a contest of wills against a mysterious entity, earning the "Lady's Blade" and a crystal heart, which she used to replace her own organ after cutting it out of her chest.
Vect had long been unable to suppress Malys's growing influence. Now, he saw his opening. He had "graciously" organized a massive force and placed it under her command, using the safety of all Commorragh to coerce his former consort into the field.
Faced with a suicidal mission that affected the survival of the Dark City, Malys could not refuse Vect's decree without shattering her hard-won prestige, especially with a cadre of grinning Haemonculi standing at Vect's side, eager to witness her failure.