Trazyn the Infinite had experienced the most confusing time of his eternal existence. A feat he did not know was possible yet proven wrong at every instant of his daily unlife.

Such as his new station directly under the Archdjinni of the Rings, one that was extremely shocking when he learned of it, yet one most fitting, the Grand Treasurer of the Vault. Fundamentally, it was a similar position to what he had been working on for the past eons, but in a government.

It was surprising the immense trust placed upon him, and Trazyn would have called the Fallen God naìve if not for not knowing better. Terror and dread would be a more adequate description of his sentiment.

He was understood in his totality; every secret he may have kept in the dark recess of his soulless existence was bare to Hoopa. The Aeldari God knew what he would do, how he would do it, and the reasons behind it with every path possible.

It was terrifying and not unlike what he had experienced in the far past, but to say these two scenarios were the same would be a lie.

It was why he was nominated Grand Treasurer of the Vault, a realm where riches and artifacts existed boundlessly, but these were negligible compared to what he was not in lack of such but compared to what resided in the Vault…

It was…

The source of his fear, even if he would never assume its existence, and that of the Infinite Empire, the cause and reason the Devil was seen as the manifestation of death, doom, and annihilation. The fear here was born of what the Archdjinni of the Rings represented and not the horror the Aeldari God would make him persist through for little purpose other than temporary amusement as countless C'tan would.

It was here that the Aeldari God of Magic's prize of war was stored and put into display for all to gaze upon and wonder.

Prizes that encapsulated being capable of enslaving civilization and shattering galaxies that there were no more than mere decoration, be they in fragments or complete. And these beings were C'tan, the ones whom the Necrontyr believed, trusted with their flesh and soul to be then betrayed into eternal stillness servitude.

It wasn't indistinguishable from what they, the Necron, had done; after all, Solemnace's central power source was a large shard of such a creature. But that was when the similarities ended; the fits involved in obtaining that result were of dramatically different realms.

One was through the uses of weariness, trickery, and planning after an endless war of attrition of which they had lost and fled, humiliated and shattered. The other was of infants played with to death by a predator. The C'tan had been the infants, mind-breakingly insane as it seemed to consider for the faintest of instants.

The most vile, revolting, and mightiest of them all was the first to have not only been bested but killed, deleted from the Universe, his primordial essence and conceptual existence turned back to the eternal beginning and ending. And that on this abominable predator's first moment of life.

Now, only an echo of the Nightbringer, Aza'gorod, remained, and it was his nameless weapon. An immaculate scythe of necrodermis capable of cutting through all that was, is, and would be, which the single sight of was enough to draw mortals into the deepest abyss of despair.

Here, it was put on a black pedestal gilded with gold on an equal level of scrolls, books, and similarly purposed medium. But these mediums were not concealing within them divine arcane knowledge and forbidden teaching for godly and demonic apotheosis. No, these were different… Far different in a way, not even the most twisted layers of the Immaterium could ever hope to rival.

These recounted the methods and ingredients to cook pastries, sweets, and other inferior forms of nutrients. Mundane food items, naught were special or explored the arcane. It was a mystery why their presence was here.

And this was not a mismanagement of the Vault. The idea was heretical in and of itself. It was intentional organization, purposeful even as were the placements of every item in this starless dimension of endless coffers.

The last fragment of the Nightbringer was of equal value to snacking recipes in the Devil's design, or was it? None could tell, and none would dare to question it.

Unknown to Trazyn, it wasn't an insult or an act of mockery or domination toward a defeated foe but praise, and a high one for Hoopa deemed such food implement vital.

Alas, this was known by only a select few the Overlord wasn't part of, and so dread was what he felt at this exceptionally puzzling display.

And the wards protecting them were beyond that of the minute number of complete if varyingly maimed C'tan held in captivity under this level.

C'tan, of which the majority were periodically tortured through techniques out of Trazyn's understanding, but he was confident they all eclipsed even the darkest demented desire the Dark Muses' depraved souls could ever dream to conceptualize. It was an interesting thought exercise all on its own.

He found himself hardly emphasizing those Star devouring monsters' fate. And those actions were purely to collect data, or so he was told by the dark maestro of the orchestra himself. A half-truth the Necron would bet plenty on it.

Still, that made him, a Necron whose visceral hate for the Star Gods was unrivaled, consider how these same Star Gods may be going through as miniscule as it was in actuality… It was enough to draw a certain perspective, if it was positive or negative, that he couldn't tell.

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But it proved that Hoopa hadn't changed from the War in Heaven and what a terrific prospect it was. Betrayal would not end well; that much was clear. Ironic and hypocritical given the history of the Devil, but who was he to judge?

Regardless…

All these apprehensions weren't obstacles to what was offered upon the eerily unrestrictive contract he signed.

A contract that had cost him a strange ring, several divine artifacts, and several precious items of his collection, but it was a fair trade. In exchange, protection was provided, the word of Hoopa given to him personally, and much more, such as one of the highest political positions within the Ark of Life as he was the Grand Treasurer of the Vault.

With this came an array of benefits, the authorization to use the Golden Gates at the head of it.

However, there were constraints, an obligation to abide by the rules of his new master, and that meant from then on, sapient beings needed to be under a list of conditions to be added. Luckily, this exclusively applied to the future, and objects not under allies' jurisdiction were free for him to keep safe in the Vault, the weight put on 'keep.'

In addition, Solemnace, after heavy modifications and repair, was displaced to the heart of the Vault, becoming an integral part of it. He was even promised a soul and a biological body blessed with health and immortality if he was loyal and competent; the validity of this claim was yet to be seen. And the uses of such a gift were taken similarly, yet he was hopeful. Life, creativity, and sensation had been dearly missed, and the memories that they ever were part of him were foggy at best.

But it was far from the most mind-boggling aspect of his new position, and it was what one expects with a new master. It was precisely because of the new environment relating to his position, the Ark of Life. It was a strange society centered on theology and meritocracy, homogenizing worship and progress.

An environment where prey and predators lived in harmony accompanied by a plethora of sophonts species, then the little few of his kind. It was an alliance bypassing any and all limitations.

If in the past he had been told that, he would have openly laughed and ordered whoever told this fairytale to be promoted in that department to become his personal jester. But it was not fiction, the danger of this reality remaining unknown.

And the word danger was the appropriate term. The Overlord knew he wasn't irreplaceable and was deeply aware of where he couldn't and could push or if he should. He was many things, but foolish wasn't one of them.

'What matter of bundled utter insanity did I tie myself into? And all because of these knife-eared shitstains, oh and that malfunctioning cyclopean little fu-' Trazyn swore internally. At the same time, his gait and body language remained unchanged as he continued his quick advance through the road of carved stone leading to the blackened peak of Mount Hatheg-Kla.

One of the highest mountains of Yuggoth, the Moving World, the fact he was here, in the birth planet of the Old Ones, was only another chip to his damaged psyche. Yuggoth… and him, a Necron Overlord walking upon its sacred ground freely, how exciting it should be, so much secret to unfold and save from the damage of time, and yet excitement was far from what he felt.

More so as in front of walked, no, strutted, an Aeldari, Eldrenich, the Autarch of Altansar and Head of the Aeldari Circle composed of fellow Autarchs and positions of equal power from further Maiden Worlds.

Their population, like vermin in perpetual rut and heat, never stopped increasing thanks to the bloody effort of the Empire to worsen its relation with these fringe branches of their population through relentless harassment or straight-up unprovoked attacks. The five gods above this all only accelerated the process of recruitment for the followers of the old ways.

"What do you require of my esteemed person, Grand Treasurer? Your focus is… intense." The Aeldari asked patiently, his pace unchanged, his smooth voice void of any heat, far from friendly but polite and considerate.

"An opinion…" Trazyn began, unsure where to go after. He was caught off guard by the sudden question, but improvising wasn't a foreign concept, "What is your impression of Lord Hoopa's domain, the one we were given blessed integument within its walls?"

There was a pregnant silence for a dozen drawn-out seconds of marching until Eldrenich spoke. This time, passion and zealotry were in his voice.

"My boorish vocabulary is unfit to convey how sumptuous and magnificent-" And Trazyn mentally blocked the rest, turning on a recording implant to respond automatically to the blabbering from the knife ears.

It wasn't surprising, and it was a grounded answer compared to what he usually heard. The Aeldari were pious, extremely pious, without exception. They reigned these sentiments, but when asked, they slipped almost without fail. It was quite amusing in the ancient Necron opinion.

"We have reached our destination, Autarch of Altansar." Trazyn curtly informed Eldrenich, and the rambling ended. In front of them was a heavy set door of Blackstone positively brimming with psychic power.

This was the entrance to the Atrium of Kadath, a room only accessible by following a certain path only preemptively blessed individuals could; it was impossible otherwise to come here unless one wished to be lost and never find a way out of this mountain.

Grandeur and theatrical aside, a meeting room was what it was. And as the double door silently opened inward, Trazyn appreciated the immense beauty of what lay inside. A coliseum of prismatic crystal, etched on their every surface were countless mystical runes and glyphs as a seemingly endless yet numbered amount of chairs existed yet not in a circular formation where a podium facing all the phantom audience at once grew.

The ceiling was an evermoving map of the Warp in all its chaotic and horrific beauty. It was a simple illusion of an imperfect representation yet enough to lose any sense of time while gazing at its depthless abyss. Below, like an ornate chandelier where the lights were stars, was a four-dimensional map of the Milky Way, spinning on itself thanks to the forces of Realspace bringing order and stability to the totalitarian bedlam above.

This art piece, divinely beautiful and technically impressive as it may be, rivaling and beating the likes of the Celestial Orrery in certain domains, was far from the only one in this chamber. Five picturesque statues reaching the high ceiling representing Hoopa, Isha, Cegorach, Kurnous, and Lileath were present at equal distances, with the first facing the entrance of Hoopa and then downward in power from the right to the left where it ended.

The architecture aside, people were seated, species leaders and influential figures of the Ark of Life, both in most cases, Trazyn optics passed briefly over them, the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Laer, the Engineer Sage of the Joakaero, the High Chieftain of the Kroot and much more from the alliance of species.

None had equal influence as it was based on merit and worth, yet all could communicate equally. However, the philosophy of meritocracy forced the members to be actively of value or working toward that goal to have any tangible political sway.

His gaze went on the ones seated until it stopped on Orikan, who noticed, and both glowered at one another until a certain Khrave made his presence known, Majun, the Archdeacon of the Dark Coven and the highest authority below the gods themselves.

Khrave were bizarre creatures, Trazyn had thought and continued to as he took his seat at the opposite of his despised one-eyed nemesis and only Necron present that wasn't him. They reminded him of what he once was, a Necrontyr, a people cursed by their unfortunate biology.

He wasn't sympathizing, but it was an entertaining thought to be aware that at any instant, a Khrave could snap and drain the souls of fellow civilians if hungry. If no emotional source were present, they would rapidly dwindle until death claimed them.

Their ability to shapeshift and innate psychic potential added to their strangeness and to think they were originally going to be a casualty of war. Their point in common with Neverborn was uncanny.

"Greetings and welcome everyone to the Atrium of Kadath on this esteemed day for the reflection of our fate in those sacred lieux!" Majun exclaimed, spreading his upper arms from the podium, the non-euclidean nature of its mechanisms letting the watchers from everywhere in the large room see and hear the old Khrave as if he was facing them—an anteriorly woven spell translating his words.

"Let's start with our ending point of the last meeting, the Krork rebirth and integration. Has any progress with the sample from Trazyn's generous gift been made?" Majun asked with a gentle smile on his shifted feature to appear 'cute' and 'cuddly,' an interesting trick of his predatory facade that worked really well to fool any in the unknown of his real visage.

The first to respond was a young Aeldari woman dressed in a gilded robe, her long silvery hair tied in a top knot that emphasized her tiara showing her position as the High Priestess of Lileath, "I'm pleased to be the bearer of good news, Archdeacon Majun-"

And this was the Atrium of Kadath soon to be furnished with new, greener members not observed in the last fifty-nine million years.