The Aeldari Pantheon.
It resided within a special region of the Warp, serving as the gathering place of the Aeldari gods. Here, they debated weighty matters or held councils.
But now, what unfolded was something else entirely — something resembling a mortal power struggle.
Yes, it was exactly that: a contest for supremacy, like mortals squabbling for thrones.
On one side stood the so-called true gods of the Aeldari: Asuryan, the Phoenix King, Khaine, the God of War, Isha, Goddess of Life and Fertility… On the other, the dark gods: the God of Schemes, the God of Torment, and others.
Once, the Pantheon had been firmly controlled by the true gods. But the Pantheon was also a reflection of the Aeldari's collective psyche. As the Aeldari sank deeper into decadence, the true gods steadily weakened, while the dark gods waxed in power.
Those who once skulked meekly in the shadows now began to rise, emboldened.
It was time, they believed, to seize the stage.
The struggle had not yet reached outright battle, but the tension edged ever closer.
The God of Torment even sneered aloud:
"If Asuryan can call himself King of the Gods, why shouldn't I?"
The remark won a chorus of approval from the other dark gods.
"Well said, brother! Exactly right!"
The once-solemn Pantheon was reduced to noisy chaos, the air thick with mockery.
Khaine, ever hot-blooded, nearly drew his weapon there and then to silence them with steel. But Asuryan restrained him, frowning.
"Our strength is diminished. Even if we win, it would be a hollow victory."
Khaine's eyes flared, his grip tightening on his blade.
"So what? Are we to just stand by and let them grow ever more arrogant?"
Asuryan had no easy reply. He knew that unchecked, the dark gods would only press harder. Yet his instincts warned him: an open clash now could worsen the future beyond repair.
At last, another voice interjected, seeking to defuse the quarrel.
"Something is wrong here… as though some unseen hand is nudging us toward conflict."
The speaker was Cegorach, the Laughing God — deity of drama, trickery, and vengeance. A complex god, but in power no less than Khaine himself.
Like Asuryan, Cegorach sensed something unnatural. Both the Aeldari and their gods seemed to be under an invisible influence, guided down a dark path. The realization filled him with unease.
And he was not alone.
Even among the dark gods, the shrewder ones — unlike the half-wit God of Torment — had their suspicions. The God of Schemes, for instance, quietly perceived the same pull, a mysterious current trying to drag him into a vast whirlpool.
So he hid himself among the others, careful not to draw attention.
But clarity was rare.
Under the distant influence of Slaanesh, the intellect of most Aeldari gods was steadily eroding. Their wisdom fell away step by step, as though descending a staircase into madness.
The God of Torment was the clearest example.
Once, he had been obscure, his followers nothing more than a handful of twisted souls. In the Pantheon, he scarcely dared to speak above a whisper.
But as the Aeldari grew ever more decadent, his cult flourished. Blood arenas rose across their worlds, grotesque galleries of flesh were built, alien captives were tortured to death and turned into living art.
The Haemonculi, sadistic flesh-sculptors, became part of the Aeldari elite.
With their rise came his own. The God of Torment vaulted into the center of the Pantheon, one of the most worshiped gods.
But blessings carried curses.
The polluted thoughts of his frenzied followers fed back into him. Once calculating, he grew swollen with arrogance, his mind slipping further into delusion. His intelligence sank step after step, perilously close to collapse.
And he was not the only one. Most of the dark gods shared the same fate.
Thus, in the Pantheon, the few lucid deities could do nothing. Outnumbered by those addled by corruption, they were forced to watch as the chaos spread.
Argue with them, and fists — or blades — were the reply.
So the Aeldari gods, like their mortal kin, fell into the same trap. The few who remained clear-minded could not turn the tide. They could only watch the decline accelerate.
The Aura of Madness radiating from Slaanesh was devastatingly effective.
---
In the years that followed, Asuryan and the other lucid gods did not simply surrender. They issued divine decrees, urging their people to abandon their excesses, to restore balance and sanity.
Some among the Aeldari responded, redoubling their efforts to persuade their kin away from indulgence.
But the corrupted dark gods opposed them at every turn, sabotaging their decrees, even resorting to violence.
For Asuryan, it was bitter beyond words — like being forced to swallow filth. He knew the cure, yet his own allies sabotaged him, leaving the disease to fester.
And so the decline of the Aeldari Empire continued, ever more visible, ever more inevitable.
---
Within the Warp, in Crimson Heaven, Orsaga observed all of this — the futile efforts of some gods to save their people, the blind indulgence of others — with utter calm.
To him, it was nothing more than a performance.
Their fall was inevitable.
A handful might cling to clarity, but the birth of Slaanesh was now a foregone conclusion.
As the first sacrifice demanded by the newborn god, the Aeldari and their pantheon would not escape.
Even Orsaga, or the other Chaos Gods, could not alter this fate. At best, they could only adjust its details — perhaps steal away a portion of Aeldari souls or even a few gods for themselves.
But the ending was already written.
_____
T/N:
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