〈"The Forgemaster was not rely a master of weaponsmithing; he was also a master architect. In terms of raw, individual power, you and I may not be so different. But you can create, whereas I rely shift and mold, altering what already exists, rather than bringing forth what was never ant to be. Only the weakest among the C'tan seek alliances. The Void Dragon and the Nightbringer have no such need. To them, all others are re obstacles, rivals to be unmade. When the Void Dragon shattered …"〉
Qin Mo had been listening in silence as the Shapeshifter recounted events from millennia past, until those words caught his attention.
The quill in his hand stilled for a fraction of a second before he looked up at the empty air before him.
"Didn't you say that I forged the weapon that shattered you?"
The Shapeshifter's voice remained ethereal, a haunting resonance that reverberated in the chamber like a whisper carried by ancient winds, yet an unmistakable lancholy tinged its response.
〈"That is… also possible. You must understand, I am but a fragnt, not a whole being. My very nature causes to unconsciously alter my surroundings, shaping false mories to fill the void. Perhaps it was you who shattered . Or the Nightbringer. Or… sothing else entirely."〉
Qin Mo's face remained expressionless, but within, he understood.
This entity, this C'tan Shard, was not a reliable narrator. Its very existence was unstable.
Even back when he had entered its dream-construct, it had been trapped within its own fabricated mories.
Perhaps those recollections were not even real mories at all, but phantoms born of its broken psyche, a desperate patchwork created by an incomplete being whose essence bled illusions into reality.
Qin Mo sighed.
"The fate of a shattered C'tan is truly pitiful."
But then, another thought struck him.
"If you were to be completely erased," he mused, "what would happen?"
For once, the C'tan Shard did not hesitate in its answer.
〈"The Material Universe would lose its shape. Objects would still exist, but they would lack form. Becoming indescribable to those who looked upon them, as if perception itself were denied. The veil of understanding would unravel."〉
Qin Mo's eyes narrowed.
"Could you… curse soone in the sa way Llandu'gor did?"
Llandu'gor, the Flayer.
A C'tan slain by thephrit Dynastyof the Necrons.
Unlike the other Star Gods, who were shattered and enslaved, Llandu'gor alone was ant to be utterly annihilated. The Silent King, Szarekh, had decreed its destruction, fearing that even imprisonnt could not contain its horrific influence.
Before its death, it had unleashed theFlayer Curse, a psychic plague that warped countless Necron warriors into flesh-obsessed monstrosities. Their machine-logic twisted, their eternal discipline shattered, they clawed at skin and blood like beasts driven by endless hunger.
Even in the current age, long after Llandu'gor's supposed destruction, the Silent King's forces still suffer from the effects of the curse. Entire legions vanish into the black void of the tomb-worlds, reerging only as Flayed Ones, gibbering and laughing through dripping masks of flensed skin. They still roam, trapped in their horrific compulsion, whispering prayers to the long-dead C'tan that had cursed them.
The C'tan Shard paused, as if searching through what remained of its scattered knowledge.
〈"My mory of Llandu'gor is… unclear. But I recall that it was no benevolent being. As for curses… I could create one. But it would be weak, far less impactful than simply dying and letting the Material Realm unravel. The destruction my true death would bring is far greater than any curse I could conjure."〉
It hesitated then, a rare mont of self-reflection. And when it spoke again, its voice was quieter, almost troubled.
〈"There is sothing… peculiar about the Flayer's end. I feel its death was not complete. Sothing lingers. It should not be, yet I sense… a wrongness. A tether uncut."〉
The words made Qin Mo pause, his quill stilling over the parchnt.
"You suspect the Flayer still exists?"
〈"I suspect,"〉 the Shapeshifter murmured, 〈"that the Flayer was never truly ant to die. Perhaps it never did."〉
Qin Mo considered the implications, then simply chuckled,
"Of course."
He resud writing.
One docunt after another.
He finalized the decree restoring House Lannis, officially recognizing Donna and her father as the rightful heirs.
Next, he drafted a proclamation reinstating the honor and nobility of a family that had been exterminated for joining the Resistance. Their lineage had been erased from Imperial records. Now, they would be rembered not as traitors but as heroes.
To Qin Mo, all of this was nothing more than tedious bureaucracy.
But tedious or not, he acknowledged the sacrifices these nobles had made.
Had they been like Archon or other heretical traitors, Qin Mo would not have bothered with restoring their nas. He would have erased every trace of their existence from the tiline entirely, scouring not only their lives but the very mory of them.
....
The next day, outside the quarters of Governor Qin Mo, Donna sat cross-legged, waiting in patient silence.
Her eyes wandered, taking in the austere surroundings.
A bare hallway, a row of seats, and a few officers waiting for an audience with the Governor.
Compared to the opulence of her family's castle, where gilt pillars and stained glass lood like monunts to excess, this place was almost primitive.
But… Donna liked it.
No excessive decorations.
No pointless etiquette.
Just functionality.
"Rember," her father's voice echoed through the Knight House's private vox-channel, transmitted via orbital relay.
"When you et the Governor, be respectful, or you may find yourself thrown out. Do not say or do anything inappropriate. First, ask about the docunts. If he says they are ready, accept them graciously, bow, and leave."
Donna exhaled sharply, irritated.
"I know, I know, old man."
Her father rely laughed.
"Then you had best pray to the Emperor that I am in a lenient mood upon your return. Otherwise, I may confine you to the estate for a full week, and you will follow every noble protocol to the letter."
At this, Donna visibly stiffened.
Her posture straightened.
The re thought of those mind-numbing traditions made her head ache.
In her household, even eating a al required a thirty-minute ritual.
How to hold a spoon, where to place one's plate, the precise rhythm of each bite. It was suffocating.
"I will conduct myself accordingly, Father," she replied quickly.
"See that you do."
The vox-link went silent.
Donna exhaled again.
She quickly turned toward the tal wall, using its reflection to adjust her uniform, not quite a mirror, but good enough.
By the ti she was finished, the door to Qin Mo's chamber opened.
A military officer stepped out, his business concluded.
Another officer rose to enter, but Donna was faster.
With a precise pivot, she slipped past him, the door sealing behind her before he could protest.
As the door closed, she smirked at the stunned officer she had just outmaneuvered.
She turned toward the Governor, ready to speak, and then froze at the sight of what occupied his attention.
On the large display screen before him, a massive structure was taking form.
Not a building, but a celestial colossus, a stellar construct designed to harness the power of a star itself.
Her eyes widened in curiosity.
"What's this?" she asked.
Qin Mo glanced up.
"A device to harvest energy from a sun," he said simply.
Then, reaching into a drawer, he retrieved a sealed parchnt and handed it to her.
"Here. This is what you and your father need."
Donna quickly scanned the docunt.
It was exactly what she had co for, the decree legitimizing House Lannis as rightful heirs.
"Thank you, Governor," she said.
But she didn't leave.
After a brief hesitation, she spoke again.
"My father and I… our Knights need repairs and logistical support."
Qin Mo arched a brow.
"Doesn't your House have its own Tech-Priests?"
"We did…" Donna hesitated.
Qin Mo imdiately understood.
Her House's original senior maintainers had likely not joined the Resistance, or had done so in too few numbers.
And since the war on Talon II had been fought without prisoners…
"I understand," Qin Mo said.
"I'll find a way to help. But the entire system is entering a phase of reconstruction, there are many demands on my ti. You may have to wait."
Donna relaxed, reassured.
The Governor always kept his word.
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