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The vox-caster crackled with static as the orders came through, sharp and final. Guardsman Jorik Varn adjusted his lasgun strap, his brow furrowed beneath the rim of his helmet. "Reassigned to logistics," he muttered under his breath, the words tasting like ash. "Logistics. Emperor protect me."He had been in the thick of it for weeks, holding the line against the green tide of Orks, his lasgun searing through the horde as the air filled with the stench of burning fungus and the screams of the dying. And now this. Logistics. Boxes. Paperwork. He might as well be dead.The transport rattled to a halt, and Jorik stepped out into the dim light of a dying sun. The air was thick with the acrid tang of promethium and the distant thud of artillery. Before him stood a motley collection of Imperial Guardsmen, their uniforms patched and their faces drawn. A battered all-terrain vehicle, its hull scorched and dented, sat in the center of the clearing. Crates were stacked haphazardly around it, and a single heavy stubber was mounted on the roof, its barrel pointing lazily toward the horizon.And then Jorik saw her.Perched atop the vehicle, as though it were her personal throne, was an Eldar. Her lithe form was clad in sleek, alien armor that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A long, elegant rifle rested across her lap, and her piercing eyes stared off into the distance, as if the humans below her were beneath her notice. Her presence was like a knife in the gut, unnatural and wrong.Jorik froze, his hand instinctively tightening on his lasgun. "What in the Emperor's name is that doing here?" he hissed, gesturing toward the xeno.The squad's officer, a grizzled sergeant with a cybernetic eye, sighed heavily. "Don't ask, guardsman. Just... don't ask."Jorik blinked. "Don't ask? There's a bloody Eldar sitting on our transport, and you're telling me not to ask?"The sergeant rubbed his temples, as though the mere memory of the event was giving him a headache. "We were pinned down by Orks yesterday. Things were looking grim. Then she shows up out of nowhere, kills half the greenskins with that fancy gun of hers, does some... witchy nonsense with her mind, and the rest just drop dead. After that, she climbs up there, says something about 'the threads of destiny weaving this path' or some frak like that, and refuses to move. We figured trying to shoot her would be a bad idea, so... here we are."Jorik stared at the sergeant, then back at the Eldar. "You're joking.""I wish I was," the sergeant replied, his voice flat. "Now get your gear stowed. We've got a shipment to deliver, and the frontlines aren't getting any closer."Jorik opened his mouth to protest, but the look in the sergeant's eye told him it would be pointless. Grumbling, he slung his pack onto the vehicle and climbed aboard, keeping as much distance between himself and the xenos as possible. The other guardsmen avoided his gaze, their expressions a mix of resignation and unease.As the vehicle rumbled to life and began its slow crawl toward the frontlines, Jorik couldn't help but glance up at the Eldar. She hadn't moved, her gaze still fixed on some distant point only she could see. Her presence was unnerving, like a predator lounging in the midst of its prey."Does she even do anything?" Jorik muttered to the guardsman next to him, a wiry man with a bandaged hand."Sometimes," the man replied with a shrug. "Orks show up, she shoots them. Otherwise, she just sits there. Doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Doesn't talk, either, unless it's to say something cryptic that makes your head hurt."Jorik shook his head, his mind reeling. This wasn't how things were supposed to work. The Imperium didn't tolerate xenos, let alone allow them to hitch rides on Imperial vehicles. It was heresy, plain and simple. And yet, here they were, trundling through the war-torn landscape with an Eldar as their self-appointed guardian.Hours passed, the monotony of the journey broken only by the occasional distant explosion or the screech of a passing Valkyrie. Jorik's initial outrage had dulled into a simmering confusion, his mind struggling to reconcile the absurdity of the situation with the grim reality of war.As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold, the Eldar finally moved. She rose gracefully to her feet, her movements fluid and alien, and raised her rifle. Before anyone could react, she fired a single shot, the crack of her weapon echoing across the landscape. A distant Ork scout crumpled to the ground, its head vaporized.The guardsmen stared in stunned silence as the Eldar resumed her seat, her expression as unreadable as ever."See?" the bandaged guardsman said, breaking the silence. "Told you."Jorik could only shake his head, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and grudging acceptance. In the grim darkness of the far future, it seemed, even the impossible had its place.And so, the logistics squad rolled on, their cargo of crates and confusion destined for the frontlines, guided by the inscrutable will of an Eldar who had decided, for reasons known only to her, that their path was hers to follow.The Emperor, Jorik decided, must have a very strange sense of humor. After few grueling days logistics squad had finally rolled into the forward operating base, a sprawling mess of sandbags, barbed wire, and prefab structures teeming with guardsmen from a dozen different regiments. The Eldar, as usual, was perched on the roof of their battered all-terrain vehicle, her rifle resting across her lap, her gaze fixed on some distant point only she could see. The squad had grown used to her presence—or as used to it as anyone could get to a silent, alien witch who occasionally vaporized Orks with unsettling precision.But not everyone at the base was so accommodating.It started with a group of Cadians from the 112th. They were a rough bunch, their uniforms frayed and their faces hardened by years of frontline combat. They spotted the Eldar almost immediately, and their reaction was predictable."What the hell is that xenos doing up there?" one of them barked, a burly guardsman with a scar running down his cheek. He pointed at the Eldar with his lasgun, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby.Jorik, who had been unloading crates, froze. He exchanged a glance with Renn, who sighed and muttered, "Here we go."The Cadian strode forward, his squadmates trailing behind him like a pack of hungry grox. "You lot gone soft or something?" he demanded, his voice dripping with contempt. "Since when do we let xenos ride on Imperial vehicles? That’s heresy, that is!"The sergeant stepped forward, his cybernetic eye whirring as it focused on the Cadian. "Stand down, guardsman. She’s… with us.""With you?" the Cadian repeated, incredulous. He raised his lasgun, aiming it squarely at the Eldar. "Like hell she is. I’ll put a hole through her skull, see if I don’t—"He never got the chance.The Eldar moved faster than anyone could follow. One moment, she was sitting calmly on the roof; the next, she was standing, her rifle aimed directly at the Cadian’s head. Her expression was unreadable, but the message was clear: Try it and die.The Cadian hesitated, his finger tightening on the trigger. His squadmates raised their own weapons, but before they could fire, the Eldar’s free hand flicked outward. A burst of psychic energy slammed into them, sending them sprawling to the ground. Their lasguns flew from their hands, landing in the dirt well out of reach.The Cadian, now alone and very much outmatched, slowly lowered his weapon. The Eldar tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his. Then, with a fluid motion, she returned to her seat on the roof, her rifle resting across her lap once more.The Cadian backed away, his face pale, his bravado shattered. "You’re all mad," he muttered, his voice low but laced with venom. He glanced at the logistics squad, his eyes darting between them and the Eldar perched silently on the vehicle. "Fraternizing with xenos… Emperor have mercy on your souls. When the Commissars hear about this, you’ll be lucky if they just shoot you."The logistics squad exchanged uneasy glances, but no one rose to the Cadian’s bait. They’d had this conversation before—among themselves, in hushed tones around campfires or during long, monotonous drives. The Eldar was a problem, but she was their problem, and they’d long since decided it was better to leave her be.Jorik stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Uh… thanks," he said, addressing the Eldar. His voice was hesitant, but he figured trying to calm down xeno psyker was worth the risk. "For not, you know, killing them. That would’ve been… messy."The Eldar didn’t respond. She didn’t even glance in his direction. She simply resumed her vigil, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if the entire confrontation had been beneath her notice. Her rifle rested across her lap, her posture relaxed but ready, like a coiled spring waiting to be released.Renn shook his head, muttering under his breath as he returned to unloading crates. "Tiresome bastards. Why do they have to poke the damned witch xeno? She’s been sitting there, minding her own business, and they just have to start something. Like we don’t have enough to worry about with the Orks, the supply runs, and the frakking shitty food."The sergeant sighed, rubbing his temples as if the mere act of explaining the situation to yet another group of trigger-happy guardsmen had given him a migraine. He watched the Cadians retreat, their heads bent together in furious whispers, and shook his head. "Just… keep unloading the crates," he said, his voice weary but firm. "And try not to start any more fights with the locals. We’ve got enough problems without adding ‘angry Cadians’ to the list."Jorik hesitated, glancing at the sergeant. "You think they’ll report us?" he asked, his voice low.The sergeant shrugged, his expression grim. "Maybe. Probably. But let’s be honest, Varn—if the Commissars cared about what we’re doing out here, they’d have shown up by now. We’re a simple logistics squad. We’re not exactly high on their priority list.""But the xeno—" Jorik began, gesturing toward the Eldar."The xeno," the sergeant interrupted, his voice sharp, "has saved our hides more times than I can count. She shoots Orks, she doesn’t shoot us, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return. You want to know why I’m fine with her? Because I’ve got a squad to keep alive, and if that means letting a xeno hitch a ride on our vehicle, then so be it. You think I like it? No. But I like dead guardsmen even less."Jorik opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. The sergeant had a point. The Eldar was… useful. Terrifying, alien, and completely incomprehensible, but useful. And in the grand scheme of things, that was all that mattered.Renn chimed in, his tone sardonic. "Besides, you really think we could take her if we wanted to? Did you remember how she killed a bunch of orks in few seconds? She didn’t even break a sweat. If she wanted us dead, we’d be dead. And I like being alive, or dying for something that actually matters."The sergeant nodded, his expression grim but resigned. "Exactly. We’ve got a job to do, and we’re going to do it. If the Eldar wants to sit on our vehicle and shoot Orks, that’s her business. Our business is getting these supplies to the frontlines. Anything else is above our pay grade."Jorik glanced back at the Eldar, who was still sitting silently on the roof, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Even when she was helping, frakkin Xeno still gave them a headache, that's just how they were.Still, the sergeant was right—they had a job to do. The Eldar was just… part of the scenery now. A strange, terrifying, and occasionally helpful part of the scenery.As the squad returned to work, the sergeant muttered under his breath, "Emperor protect us from idiots with lasguns and xenos with better aim than the entire Imperial Guard combined."Jorik couldn’t help but chuckle. It was either that or scream.The days blurred together in a haze of monotony and tension. The logistics squad delivered their crates to the frontlines, their all-terrain vehicle groaning under the weight of munitions, rations, and other supplies vital to the Imperial war effort. The Eldar, as ever, remained perched atop the vehicle, her presence a silent, alien constant. She spoke to no one, acknowledged no one, and yet her occasional interventions—a precise shot here, a burst of psychic energy there—kept the squad alive. The guardsmen had stopped questioning it. Survival was survival, no matter how absurd the circumstances.But for Jorik, the absurdity was becoming unbearable. It wasn’t just the Eldar’s presence—it was the way the squad had started to treat him. After a particularly long and uneventful stretch of road, the guardsmen had resorted to gambling to pass the time. Jorik, never one to back down from a challenge, had found himself on the losing end of a bet. The stakes? Either get the Eldar to interact with him… or spend a week on latrine duty.The squad had erupted into laughter, their voices carrying over the rumble of the engine. "Good luck, Varn," the bandaged guardsman, Renn, had said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Maybe she’ll shoot you quick. Cleaner than the latrines, at least."Jorik had glared at him, but the bet was sealed. Now, as the vehicle trundled through a desolate stretch of wasteland, he found himself standing awkwardly near the rear of the vehicle, staring up at the Eldar. She was, as always, gazing into the distance, her expression unreadable."Uh… hey," Jorik began, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey. You. Eldar."No response. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.Jorik glanced back at the squad, who were watching with varying degrees of amusement. Renn made a shooing motion, urging him on. Jorik sighed and turned back to the Eldar."Look, I don’t know if you understand me, but… uh… thanks. For the help. With the Orks and all." He paused, hoping for some kind of reaction. Nothing. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could, I don’t know, say something? Anything? Just so I don’t have to clean the latrines for a week."Still nothing. The Eldar might as well have been a statue.Jorik’s frustration mounted. He was a guardsman of the Imperial Army, a soldier of the God-Emperor, and here he was, begging a xenos for a scrap of attention. Desperation crept into his voice."Come on, say something! Or… or nod! Or blink! Just… do something!"The Eldar remained motionless.Jorik groaned, running a hand through his hair. He was out of ideas. The squad was going to roast him for this. He could already hear the jokes, the endless teasing. Desperation pushed him to the edge of recklessness."Fine," he muttered under his breath. "If you’re not going to talk, then… uh… do you want to go out sometime? Like, after the war? Assuming we survive? Which, you know, is a big assumption, but… yeah."For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, the Eldar turned her head to look at him. Her gaze was piercing, her eyes like shards of ice that cut straight through him. Jorik froze, his heart pounding. She leaned forward, her movements deliberate and graceful, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Jorik thought she might actually kill him. Instead, she reached out and—to his utter astonishment—patted him on the head. Her touch was light, almost gentle. Then, without a word, she leaned back and resumed her vigil, as if nothing had happened.Jorik stood there, stunned, his face burning. Behind him, the squad erupted into laughter."Did she just—?" Renn wheezed, clutching his sides. "Oh, Throne, she did! She patted him on the head like a frakking grox!""Jorik and the Eldar, sitting in a tree," another guardsman sang, his voice dripping with mockery."Shut up," Jorik muttered, climbing back into the vehicle. His face was red, but he couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of relief. At least she hadn’t shot him.The rest of the journey was a nightmare. The squad wouldn’t let it go. Every time Jorik so much as glanced in the Eldar’s direction, someone would make a kissing noise or ask if he’d picked out a wedding venue yet. Even the sergeant, usually a stoic figure, couldn’t resist a smirk."Guess you’ve got a type, Varn," the sergeant said during a brief stop. "Tall, mysterious, shoots Orks real good.""Very funny," Jorik grumbled, though he couldn’t entirely suppress a smile. It was absurd, all of it. The Eldar, the bet, the pat on the head—it was like something out of a bad dream. And yet, in a strange way, it made the war feel a little less grim.As the vehicle rolled on, Jorik found himself glancing up at the Eldar more often than he cared to admit. She was still as aloof as ever, her gaze fixed on some distant horizon. But every now and then, he thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.Or maybe it was just his imagination.Either way, he decided, he’d take the jokes. At least he wasn’t on latrine duty.The Eldar was gone.Jorik noticed her absence the moment he woke up. The roof of the all-terrain vehicle was empty, the space where she had perched for days now vacant. He scanned the horizon, half-expecting to see her silhouette against the rising sun, but there was nothing. Just the endless wasteland and the distant rumble of artillery."Where’s your girlfriend, Varn?" Renn called out, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Did you two have a fight?"Jorik ignored him, though the jab stung more than he cared to admit. The Eldar’s disappearance left a strange void, one he hadn’t realized she’d filled. Her presence, as unnerving as it had been, had become a bizarre constant in their lives. Now, without her, the world felt… unbalanced.The squad pressed on, their mission unchanged. They delivered supplies, fought off sporadic Ork patrols, and tried to stay alive. But the loss of their silent guardian was felt keenly. Without her precise shots and psychic interventions, the fights were bloodier, the margins thinner. They lost a man during a skirmish with a roving band of Ork looters—a young recruit named Tovis, who had barely been with the squad a week. His death hit hard, a grim reminder of how fragile their existence was.By the time they reached the next fortified position, a sprawling Imperial bastion bristling with gun emplacements and surrounded by trenches, the squad was exhausted. They limped into the compound, their vehicle battered and their spirits lower than the promethium reserves in their fuel tanks. The bastion’s commander, a stern-faced colonel with a voice like grinding gears, gave them a cursory inspection before barking orders to resupply and prepare for another run."Rest up," the sergeant told them, his voice heavy with fatigue. "We move out at dawn. Emperor knows what’s waiting for us out there."Jorik slumped against a crate, his lasgun resting across his knees. He stared at the empty spot on the vehicle’s roof, his mind wandering. Where had she gone? Why had she stayed with them in the first place? And why, in the Emperor’s name, had she patted him on the head?His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their reinforcement.She was a Krieg sniper, her face obscured by the distinctive gas mask of her regiment. Her longcoat was patched and worn, her lasgun slung across her back, and her demeanor was as cold and unyielding as the frozen wastes of her homeworld. She introduced herself with a curt nod and a single word: "Voss."The squad exchanged uneasy glances. Krieg soldiers were… different. They were fanatical, unflinching, and utterly devoid of humor. Voss was no exception. She moved with mechanical precision, her every action calculated and efficient. When she inspected their vehicle, her gaze lingered on the roof, as if she could sense the lingering presence of the Eldar.Without a word, Voss climbed onto the vehicle and began setting up a sniping nest exactly where the Eldar had sat. The squad watched in stunned silence as she arranged her gear with the same detached efficiency she did everything else."Uh… Voss," Jorik began, his voice hesitant. "That spot’s, uh… kind of taken."Voss paused, her masked face turning toward him. "Taken by whom?"Jorik opened his mouth, then closed it. How did you explain something like that? "Well, there was this… Eldar. She just kind of… sat there. For days. Shot Orks. Didn’t talk much. Then she left."Voss stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable behind the mask. Then she turned back to her work. "Irrelevant. This position offers optimal sightlines. I will utilize it."The squad erupted."Are you kidding me?" Renn shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "First an Eldar, now a Kriegswoman? What’s next, a Kasrkin? Eagle abhuman?""Maybe she’s the Eldar in disguise," another guardsman suggested, only half-joking. "You know, to mess with us.""Varn, this is your fault," Renn said, pointing an accusatory finger at Jorik. "You had to go and ask her out. Now we’re cursed.""Shut up," Jorik muttered, though he couldn’t help glancing at Voss. She was already in position, her rifle resting across her knees, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The resemblance to the Eldar was uncanny, and it sent a shiver down his spine.As the squad prepared for the next leg of their journey, the jokes continued. Jorik climbed into the vehicle, his lasgun resting across his lap. He glanced up at Voss, her silhouette stark against the pale sky, and sighed. The war went on, absurdities and all. And somewhere, out there in the vastness of the galaxy, an Eldar was probably laughing at him. In her mind. Because if he knew anything about her, it was that she preferred silence."Emperor protect me," he muttered, leaning back against the crate. "From xenos, from Krieg, and from my own frakking squad."It had been a month since the Krieg sniper, Voss, had joined the squad. A month of routine deliveries, uneventful patrols, and blessed, beautiful normalcy. The jokes about Jorik and the Eldar had dried up, replaced by the usual griping about rations, the weather, and the never-ending war. Jorik had almost started to relax. Almost.The squad’s vehicle had broken down—again—in the middle of a vast, grassy plain. The engine had sputtered and died, leaving them stranded under a pale, overcast sky. The sergeant had cursed, Voss had climbed down from her perch to help with repairs, and Jorik had been sent to patrol the perimeter. Just in case.He walked slowly, his lasgun slung over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the horizon. The grass swayed in the breeze, and the distant rumble of artillery was the only sound breaking the silence. It was almost peaceful. Too peaceful. Jorik couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong.Then he saw it.A glint of light caught his eye, something shining in the grass. He crouched down, brushing aside the blades to reveal a necklace. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen—a delicate chain of silver-like metal, studded with large, iridescent stones that shimmered in the faint light. The stones seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, and the whole thing radiated an otherworldly beauty.Jorik picked it up, turning it over in his hands. "What the hell…?" he muttered. "Who the fuck would have this out here?"He pocketed the necklace, his unease growing. This wasn’t the kind of thing you found on a battlefield. It was too pristine, too… alien. He straightened up, glancing around, and that’s when he heard it.The sound of footsteps. Soft, almost imperceptible, but there. And they weren’t human.He turned, his heart pounding, and froze.The squad was in a standoff.A group of Eldar had appeared as if from thin air, their elaborate bone armor gleaming in the dim light. They moved with a grace that was almost unnatural, their weapons—long, elegant rifles and curved blades—held at the ready. Their faces were obscured by helmets, unnaturally smooth and elongated, and their eyes glowed faintly behind the visors.And there, standing at the front of the group, was her.The Eldar who had traveled with them. The one who had sat silently on their vehicle, shot Orks with terrifying precision, and—Emperor help him—patted him on the head. She was unmasked, her sharp features as unreadable as ever, but her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his stomach churn.She gestured sharply, her movements quick and precise, and though she didn’t speak, the message was clear: Come here.Jorik’s mind raced. This was it. This was how he died. Surrounded by xenos, his squad outnumbered and outgunned, and all because he’d picked up a stupid necklace. He took a step forward, his legs moving almost against his will, and his thoughts spiraled into hysterical panic.This is her revenge, he thought, his mind grasping at the absurdity of it all, searching for the explanation. This is because I asked her out. She’s been planning this the whole time. Oh, Emperor, I’m going to die because I made a bad joke.The squad was tense, their weapons raised but not firing. The sergeant’s face was pale, his cybernetic eye whirring as it focused on the Eldar, unwilling to make the first move. Voss stood slightly apart, her sniper rifle trained on the xenos, her expression unreadable behind her mask. Renn looked like he was about to faint.Jorik reached the Eldar, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Look," he began, his voice shaking, "if this is about that time, I didn’t mean to—"She cut him off with a sharp gesture, her eyes narrowing. Then, to his utter astonishment, she reached out and plucked the necklace from his pocket. She held it up, her gaze shifting to the other Eldar, and something unspoken passed between them.One of the other Eldar—a tall figure with a staff adorned with glowing runes—stepped forward. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and resonant, each word dripping with disdain. "You are fortunate, mon-keigh, that your ignorance has not yet cost you your life. This is no trinket to be pocketed like a child’s toy."Jorik blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. "I… what?"The Eldar who had traveled with them—his Eldar, as absurd as that sounded—turned to him. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement? Irritation? He couldn’t tell.She gestured again, this time toward the vehicle. The message was clear: Get back to your squad.Jorik didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled back, his legs trembling, his mind a whirlwind of panic and confusion. The Eldar turned away as if he no longer existed, her attention shifting to the other xenos. They moved as one, their movements fluid and precise, and then—they were gone. Not running, not fading into the distance, but simply vanishing, as if they had never been there at all. The grass swayed gently where they had stood, the only sign they had ever existed.Jorik stared at the empty space, his heart pounding. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The necklace. It had to be about the necklace. She had known. Somehow, she had known. Months ago, when she had first appeared on their vehicle, silent and unyielding, she had known this would happen. She had been waiting for it. For him. For this moment."Emperor’s teeth," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking. "She knew. She knew."The squad stood in stunned silence, their weapons still raised but with no targets to aim at. Finally, the sergeant lowered his lasgun, his face pale but his voice steady. "Everyone, back to the vehicle. Now."They moved quickly, their movements stiff with tension. Voss climbed back onto the roof, her sniper rifle resting across her lap, her masked face scanning the horizon. Renn was muttering under his breath, something about "xenos and their frakking theatrics," but even his usual bravado was tinged with unease.Jorik climbed into the vehicle, his hands still trembling. He glanced at the spot where the Eldar had vanished, half-expecting her to reappear, but the plain was empty. The necklace was gone, and with it, whatever strange purpose had tied her to them. He felt a strange mix of relief and loss, though he couldn’t quite explain why.The sergeant leaned against the vehicle, his cybernetic eye whirring as he scanned the area. "Alright, listen up," he said, his voice low but firm. "What just happened stays with us. No one talks about it. Not to the Cadians, not to the Commissars, not to anyone. Understood?"The squad nodded, their faces grim. They didn’t need to be told twice. The Imperium didn’t take kindly to fraternizing with xenos, even if it was unintentional. Especially if it was unintentional.As the vehicle rumbled back to life and began its slow crawl across the plain, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. No one spoke, the only sound the hum of the engine and the distant rumble of artillery. Finally, Renn broke the silence."So, Varn," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence, "you get your girlfriend a necklace or something?"The squad froze for a moment, then erupted into laughter. It was nervous, hysterical laughter, the kind that comes when you’ve stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. Even the sergeant cracked a smile, shaking his head."Real romantic, Varn," another guardsman chimed in, his voice shaky but grinning. "Next time, maybe flowers. Or chocolates. Something that won't make the rest of her xeno family come here and almost kill us."Jorik groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I didn’t—it wasn’t—oh, forget it."The laughter continued, the tension slowly easing as the squad fell back into their usual rhythm. They were alive, and for now, that was enough. The Eldar were gone, the necklace was gone, and the war went on. When you were a simple Guard, you took your victories where you could find them.As the vehicle rolled on, Jorik glanced out at the horizon, his mind still racing. She had known. Somehow, she had known. And now, she was gone. He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed."Hey, Varn," Renn called out, his grin widening. "You think she’ll write? Maybe send a pict of her, dressed in only that necklace?"The squad burst into laughter again, and this time, Jorik couldn’t help but join in.
Epilogue.
In the shimmering twilight of the craftworld’s infinity circuit, Farseer Aelindra Yvraine stood amidst the swirling currents of fate. Her mind, attuned to the intricate web of possibilities, traced the threads of destiny with a precision honed over centuries of discipline and meditation. The soulstones of her fallen kin—those sacred vessels of aeldari souls—had been lost to the tides of war, scattered across the galaxy. She had foreseen their recovery in her visions, but the path to their retrieval had been… unconventional.The mon’keigh. Crude, brutish, and yet, in their own peculiar way, almost amusing. She had first glimpsed them as a faint blur in the skein of fate—a band of Imperial Guardsmen, insignificant in the grand tapestry of the cosmos. But as she delved deeper, she recognized their role. They were the key. And among them, one stood out. The one called Jorik.Aelindra’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles as she recalled the moment she had first seen him. He had been so… gaian. Loud, clumsy, and utterly oblivious to the part he would play in the fate of her people. When she had brushed against his mind with the lightest of psychic touches, she had felt his confusion, his fear, and beneath it all, a stubborn, almost pitiable resilience. It was that resilience that had convinced her. He was the one.She had joined their squad, her presence a silent shadow, her actions inscrutable to their limited understanding. They had feared her, as was proper, but they had also accepted her in their own awkward, mon’keigh way. And Jorik… he had been different. He had tried to speak to her, to understand her, to make sense of the enigma she represented. She had found it almost endearing, in the way one might regard a curious, yet dim-witted creature. When she had patted his head, it had been more than a gesture of amusement. It had been a tuning, a subtle psychic link that would allow her to find him again, no matter where the threads of fate might lead.And now, the soulstones were recovered. The necklace, crude and garish by aeldari standards, had been crafted by some ignorant fool who had no understanding of the power they held. A dozen souls, trapped within those stones, waiting to be returned to the infinity circuit. Jorik had held them in his hands, utterly unaware of their significance. Aelindra wondered, idly, what he would think if he knew. Would he comprehend the weight of what he had carried? Would he grasp the lengths to which she had gone to retrieve them?She thought, perhaps, he might. There was a spark in him, a flicker of something beyond the brutish simplicity of his kind. He had asked her out, a gesture so absurd it had nearly drawn a laugh from her. And yet, there had been a strange sincerity to it, a clumsy attempt to bridge the chasm between their worlds. She doubted he would ever truly understand the intricacies of Asuryani culture, the sacred duty of a Farseer, or the profound importance of the soulstones. But she thought he might grasp, at least in part, why she had done what she had done.As Aelindra traced the paths of the future, she felt a rare sense of satisfaction. The mon’keigh squad would survive, at least for a time. Their fates were no longer entwined with hers, but she had seen enough to know that they would not perish in the coming months. They would continue their war, their lives a fleeting flicker in the grand design of the cosmos, but for now, they would live.And Jorik… she wondered if he would think of her in a year. If he would remember the enigmatic aeldari who had traveled with them, who had saved their lives and then vanished as swiftly as she had appeared.The whims of fate were strange indeed. Aelindra turned away from the infinity circuit, her mind already reaching out to the next thread, the next vision, the next needle with which to weave the fates of her people. The galaxy was vast, and the paths of destiny were endless. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection, her thoughts lingering on the mon’keigh who had, without knowing it, played a part in something far greater than he could ever comprehend.