What is magic like? The best analogy is a lever for manipulating the warp. Everything went much easier than I had calculated. The veil of space was unharmed, and I came to my senses. Even Imoen's presence no longer caused pain, though the discomfort from her absorption of warp energies remained.

  How to describe Isha's ritual? I recited the incantation, expressed the necessary emotions, and drew one of her symbols in the air. I didn't have to wait long. Almost immediately, my pain disappeared, and my injuries healed. I was ready to repeat all the spells that had appeared in my memory, but Isha asked me to wait. Chaotic use of spells could end badly.

  I had only to turn to Imoen. After all, the mystery of my arrival in this house was still unsolved. I had lost consciousness in the realm of demons!

  Imoen slowly told the story, all very sweet and wonderful. A tall Black woman with glowing green tattoos saves you, then asks you to perform a ritual sacrifice...

  What could possibly go wrong in this situation? The most interesting thing is Imoen's absolute disregard for morality. As if what she did was perfectly normal.

  I thought that arriving in this world to live in a sub-hive was simply bad luck. But even where there is no Imperium, there aren't many good places to live.

  Let's return to our empty one. I no longer want to kill her—well, I still do, but not as much.

  The girl told me about how she met the mandrake, and now I was interested in information about this world and society. She willingly provided me with information, which reduced my hatred for her. Throughout our interaction, she never once made the local aquila salute, never prayed to the Emperor, and behaved like a real psyker!

  "So this planet is called Diasporex?"

  The name confuses me; I've heard it somewhere but can't remember where. It rhymes with Interex, so it must be connected to the Warhammer storyline. This means it's not just a random medieval world. We can conclude that the chance this world is connected, or will be connected, to the Imperium is over 100%.

  The girl nodded, then tried to explain.

  "I don't know what a planet is, but the word is used in religious hymns. Usually, the songs speak of the ancestors' landing on the planet Diasporex, after which this world became our home. Since you also came from outside, I assume that 'planet' describes our world."

  I suppressed a smirk. Interesting how records of ancient colonists transformed into religious texts. But the question remained—why had society degraded to a medieval level? Speaking of degradation, I still saw volkite weapons carried by the black ship's guards. What year is it now? Clearly not the 41st millennium, but does the Imperium have a unified calendar? In the sub-hive, there was only a calendar marking the founding of the hive.

  "It's now the 36th millennium according to the knowledge in your head. This is a random world. When I opened the portal, I tried to send you to an exodite planet. Society degraded because the colonists were given food but not taught how to fish. You haven't gone outside yet, but there are ruins on this planet. I sense the presence of the unborn there."

  Interaction with a deity still seemed unusual to me, but I was starting to get used to these internal dialogues. However, mind-reading is a bit maddening.

  "I don't want to be rude—lest lightning strike me—but is your divine radar working properly? If demons were here, the world would already be filled with cultists."

  For a moment, I felt a headache. Who would have thought gods could be so petty.

  "I appreciate your crude humor, but only the knowledge in your head confuses me. I will be here for another six thousand years with no chance of escape, which motivates me to tolerate your thoughts. Given the information from another world, you more or less understand human developmental history. This planet has existed self-sufficiently for many millennia. Strangely enough, people don't have free access to the ruins. I suspect all the colonists' knowledge and industrial capabilities were located in hive cities. The few who escaped the demons degraded due to lack of these resources."

  "And what is the name of the kingdom we're in?" I asked, trying to form a more complete picture of this world.

  Imoen hesitated. Her thoughts were immediately revealed to the goddess, who promptly commented.

  "Why not ask this girl, who was lower in social class than a peasant, how to build a nuclear reactor?"

  "I don't know, we just pay taxes to the elder. We only see knights when they go to the ruins searching for artifacts. Our village is considered prosperous—the grain tax is lower here due to our proximity to the Shadow Kingdom. And also..."

  I raised my hand, stopping her.

  "Shadow Kingdom? What is that?"

  Instead of answering, Imoen stood up and approached the window. She opened one shutter, showing the familiar view of the forest, then the second, facing the opposite side of the house.

  The view that opened up took my breath away.

  "That's where the Shadow Kingdom is," her voice grew quieter. "We're called the Halls of the Shadow Kingdom because knights use our village as their last resting place before journeying into the ruins." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Church songs say the kingdom was ruled by Blue Twenty-One. Our ancestors lived there until the great catastrophe happened."

  I moved closer to the window. Hills stretched out before me, and in the distance, beyond a mountain range, loomed the silhouettes of gigantic rusted structures. My sharpened vision distinguished a purple mist—a sign of a broken space veil—mixed with the green haze of warp ghosts. Never before had I seen such a concentration of these energies.

  "Every year knights make pilgrimages to the lands of the ancestors to prove their courage," continued Imoen. "Those who return tell of monsters hunting humans." She lowered her eyes. "Children of the void, like me, serve as bait for the monsters. Without us, all knights would perish."

  "Are we so close to the ruins? Don't monsters attack the village?"

  Imoen shook her head.

  "The ruins are about two weeks' journey away. Creatures rarely venture beyond a thousand paces from the entrance to the Shadow Lands. But the mountains nearest to the ruins are still dangerous."

  "It's called the Shadow Kingdom because of eternal darkness inside?"

  "Yes," she nodded. "Knights say there's never any light there. Only the shadows from their torches warn of approaching monsters."

  I mentally noted—a hive city without lighting, filled with demons. No more fitting name could be devised.

  "What are the knights armed with?"

  "Besides ordinary swords, they have artifacts from the Shadow Kingdom," Imoen's eyes lit up. "The most valuable are healing stones, dragon fire, ancestral fire, and ancestral armor."

  She began to describe each artifact in detail. From the description, ancestral armor seemed like some kind of power armor or spacesuits. Dragon fire resembled energy weapons, and ancestral fire was similar to a lightsaber. Only the healing stones stood out—I couldn't imagine how a simple crystal could heal at a distance.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lost in thought, I didn't notice someone's hand on my shoulder. Then a wave of cold passed through my entire body.

  "You've relaxed, mon-keigh. I'm tired of standing behind you waiting for you to sense my presence."

  I recognized this voice immediately—Gothic accent with invariable notes of arrogance and contempt. I must admit, Rizalia succeeded in frightening me.

  "You've returned?!" exclaimed Imoen.

  "I..."

  The world around me froze. Time stopped, and the green ghost of Isha appeared next to Rizalia. Even the air seemed to have congealed at that moment.

  "You did much that was unnecessary in Commorragh," the goddess's voice sounded stern. "Why put my shepherd in danger? The Archon is already completely under your control."

  Rizalia straightened up, a fire of defiance flashing in her eyes.

  "I decide how to handle my affairs with her. I need answers. Even if you hold me by the throat, I'd rather die than become a will-less puppet."

  Isha smirked with contempt.

  "At first, I wanted to kill you," Isha's voice acquired thoughtful notes. "But now I'm doubtful. Ask away. I am always patient with my children, even apostates."

  The mandrake tried to maintain her insolence, but her body instinctively trembled, and this was merely a trace of the goddess's power.

  "We're not the first who tried to find you." Rizalia spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. "Your behavior is too... unnatural. I could bring you any Eldar, connect with worlds that still remain loyal to you. Dozens of Eldar whose potential exceeds that of the mon-keigh. You know my capabilities, and I know how gods act. Why haven't you ordered anything like that?"

  The ghostly figure of Isha seemed to grow brighter.

  "You all belong to She Who Thirsts. Until I have enough faithful mon-keigh, I cannot change this. My body, consciousness, and most of my essence are still trapped." She shifted her gaze to the psyker frozen in time. "The mon-keigh I've chosen isn't special, but he has the potential to become special. Such uncertainty has always attracted us, for even gods have no power over fate. We can only slightly direct its flow."

  The goddess was silent before continuing:

  "Does my kind attitude perplex you? I am deprived of power, most of my memory, my true body. Only a fool would behave pompously in such a position. The most reasonable thing now is sincerity. If I take control of another's body, it will cause discontent. If my actions contradict fate, my plans will collapse. Why should I risk it?"

  "You promised to free me from hunger," impatience cut through Rizalia's voice.

  "I need faith. You want everything here and now. I see your thoughts, but you're too optimistic."

  "Why?!" for the first time in the conversation, Rizalia raised her voice. "If we capture Commorragh, we can begin the rebirth of the empire!"

  "Even reading your thoughts, I can't believe you harbor such a naive dream. Usually, you're more restrained." Isha shook her head. "Train the mon-keigh. The sooner my shepherd becomes strong, the sooner we'll take action."

  Rizalia hesitated momentarily.

  "I ask that you promise something."

  "What is it?"

  "When you regain power... I want to receive your blessing again."

  "You want to destroy all remnants of Khaine in this world?" Understanding sounded in the goddess's voice.

  "Yes," Rizalia answered firmly. "It was because of him that the fall began. I cannot challenge She Who Thirsts, but his remnants..."

  Isha interrupted the mandrake's foolish dreams.

  "You will die. Even the weakest fragment of Khaine is tens of times stronger than you. You'll need many blessings."

  "So, will you give me the opportunity to destroy him once and for all?"

  "You have the right to revenge." Isha raised her hand. "But don't take vengeance on all his believers. Those born after the fall are not responsible for what you accuse them of."

  "Very well," nodded Rizalia. "Then I'll train your shepherd as quickly as possible."

  Time began to move again. Rizalia still appeared immersed in her thoughts after the conversation with the goddess.

  Imoen pointed to the pot.

  "We still have plenty of meat left. Shall I serve you some food?"

  The Drukhari slowly turned her head, as if returning to reality. The desire to respond sharply flickered in her eyes but was quickly replaced by detachment.

  "I'm not hungry," she headed for the door. "Mon... Both of you, follow me."

  When she left, Imoen looked at me with confusion:

  "Did I say something wrong?"

  "Rizalia will begin your training," Isha's voice sounded in my head.

  "No, let's go before she loses patience."

  Imoen nodded, and we followed the Drukhari. I saw the exterior of the hut. It was situated slightly apart from the village, on a hill. It resembled a hunter's cabin or forester's lodge from reconstructions of medieval settlements. But the planet's vegetation was very strange—the grass was often reddish, and the trees had odd shapes with tentacle-like vines.

  We stood near Rizalia, who then demonstratively extended her hand, forming a shadow vortex. The dark area slightly changed color, then various objects began to fall from it. These were mostly metal containers, but then weapons and armor of strange shapes followed.

  The rain of objects lasted several minutes; then she nodded with satisfaction and approached one of the containers. The mandrake removed glass vessels from the container and turned around.

  Imoen looked with some interest at the thick, slimy, glowing larvae in the vessel. The larvae had different colors and shapes of glowing runes.

  "We'll start with modifying your muscles. Currently, they're primitive. It would be foolish to waste the goddess's power on your changes, so you'll undergo modification through bio-implants."

  My intuition suggested I wouldn't like this.

  "And how is this connected to the larvae in your jar?"

  The mandrake opened the vessel and carefully extracted two larvae with identical patterns and colors. For the first time, I saw a Drukhari smile sadistically and ask with interest:

  "Do you have any ideas?"

  At that moment, I felt Isha's interest as well. Such solidarity makes one wonder whether all Eldar possess unhealthy tendencies.

  "Knowing you Drukhari, we'll have to eat this?"

  The mandrake was literally restraining her smile.

  "Almost right. You need to swallow this creature. Of course, it could be inserted into other orifices, or I could cut you open and forcibly attach it to your internal organs, but I don't think you'd agree to that."

  Imoen pointed at the larvae, showing no disgust as she asked questions.

  "And how will eating larvae change our... muscles? What are muscles?"

  Rizalia pondered, then gave the most primitive answer.

  "Muscles are meat. Meat is responsible for strength; the better the meat, the stronger or faster you are. This will give you strength because your meat will completely change."

  Imoen nodded, then began to pray, and I looked at her actions with incomprehension. How does her cause-and-effect relationship work? Why is she praying?! It won't help, especially against the larvae we'll have to swallow.

  "I am ready to receive the goddess's strength. Thank you for your gift."

  The mandrake looked at me, then waited expectantly for my reaction.

  "Are you waiting for me to say how disgusting this looks?"

  The mandrake handed one of the larvae to Imoen.

  "I expected prayers from you too, as you're the goddess's messenger. Yet you criticize one of the most effective medical methods."

  Imoen began swallowing the larva, which she managed with difficulty. The larva, as wide as a pear, was literally crawling into her throat, and she tried not to choke while suppressing vomiting...

  "Why is this done so disgustingly?! What about laboratories with equipment?"

  Imoen tried to spit out the abomination, but soon she began to lack air.

  "Will she die?"

  "No, she's enjoying it."

  Drukhari! It looks even worse from the outside! Why did I expect something different from a mandrake?

  Rizalia looked at me with even greater contempt.

  "There are many ways to restructure an organism. Let's start with magic, but we Drukhari can't use it. Vats with biomaterial, but I'm not going to grow you a new body. Ultra-small artificial organisms, but they can kill if the organism doesn't match the given template. Commorragh has no body modification templates for mon-keigh. Should I continue listing reasons for choosing this technology?"

  Imoen finally swallowed the larva. Now it was my turn...

  "What about surgical intervention?"

  "Your words only provoke her..."

  "If you want to become an ugly monster, please, go ahead. This method is the cheapest, but has the highest mortality rate. What I'm showing you is a relatively quick, painless way to modify the body. Most Archons use this method."

  Not surprised! At least they're not tentacles!

  Imoen listened to us attentively, but her face indicated significant discomfort.

  "I still fail to see the logic in why a larva can handle this better than all those methods you listed."

  I've eaten various disgusting things in the sub-hive, but this...

  "It's a void parasite. It enters the body and reshapes it into a shell. Then it uses this for nourishment. Of course, what you see is a programmed artificial specimen capable of using magic for flesh modification."

  Rizalia handed me a squirming larva the size of an apple. With a length of forty centimeters...

  "Now swallow! You still have sword training ahead."

  I admit, even sub-hive food doesn't look this repulsive. At least we ground up insects and added them as protein supplements.

  "But mayb—"

  The mandrake grabbed my jaw, opened it, and stuffed this abomination in. I reached for my mouth, but she had already twisted my arms.

  ".h.l.p.m"

  Squirming in my mouth! The slimy, repulsive body slid down my throat.

  ".f.m.h.lp"

  Rizalia still held my jaw, preventing my gag reflex from saving me. Only when I felt indigestion did she finally release me.

  "This is horrible!"

  I quickly touched my stomach, then felt something moving.

  "The bio-capsule will dissolve in two hours. It already contains nutrients for transformation. After another hour, the operation will be complete, and we'll proceed to the next modification."

  I'm willing to bet this mandrake is delighted. Her cold, emotionless face is smiling.

  "There's a taste in my mouth... disgusting. Who even invented such a method?!"

  The Drukhari's smile grew wider and brighter.

  "Look for the positives. I've brought one hundred forty-three capsules for each of you. Forty capsules are responsible for information transfer; the rest should improve your weak bodies."