How can one describe the Drukhari? I'd need many expletives, but the results speak for themselves. Painful joints, gray hair, and even height. Everything returned to normal, as if the under-hive toxins and radiation were merely a joke. I could barely do two push-ups before, but now I easily completed exercises, feeling more or less good.

  On the other hand, Imoen and I were fed "bio-capsules" for an entire week.

  Rizalia carefully informed us of all modifications. Muscles, joints, bones, internal organs, bone marrow, hormones, and skin.

  Now the mandrake has disappeared again, leaving Imoen and me to move all the crates into the house, and we also need to choose weapons before her return. What can I say about my strength—the crates still feel heavy to me. Which doesn't make me superhuman. Technically, a psyker is already superhuman, but after eating those larvae, I expected something more radical. I didn't even develop a six-pack.

  "To see the difference, you must look at your DNA and RNA."

  I don't have microscopes in my eyes.

  "I'm not complaining, just not very impressed."

  "Try doing the same thing, but using your biomancy talent."

  As if I could produce anything but mutated flesh?

  "I'll abstain. I'm more curious—do the Drukhari train this way? It seems like cheating."

  The goddess emitted a large amount of emotions; she was amused.

  "I would call it an elite approach. Rizalia spared no expense—no one except archons and their most trusted servants has access to such methods. Muscle memory transfer, information on how to use weapons more effectively—all useful, but these aren't skills. They merely reduce the time required for natural learning. Such procedures existed before the fall of the Eldar; now everything is different. The Eldar paths don't allow shortcuts in training time. Exodites wouldn't resort to this either. Drukhari won't waste a haemonculus's time training subordinates. I advise you to choose a weapon and begin training."

  The method with larvae doesn't become more pleasant just because it's elite.

  "Perhaps you can suggest which weapon I should choose?"

  I noticed how Imoen, immediately after the Drukhari's departure, chose a strange-looking sword. It consisted of polished crystal with a demon's head on the hilt. The blade itself was a perfect saber, unlike other swords that looked like a sadomasochist's dream.

  "A withering blade would suit you best. The blade absorbs water, which is extremely useful. I'll show you techniques that will allow you to release water from the blade with great pressure. You'll recognize the weapon by its blade, made from the bones of a void beast."

  Looking through the blades, I found this sword, except it looked like a designer's joke. The cutting edge was interrupted by spikes, the handle stylized as a spine offered no hope for ergonomics. The blade itself looked as if made from cracked and charred bone.

  Taking the sword, I felt how the decorative elements interfered with the grip. Setting it down by the entrance door next to Imoen's sword, I continued moving crates. This continued for two hours.

  As soon as we finished, I could appreciate the mandrake's teleportation abilities. The crates filled the entire house! Almost no free space left!

  I sat on a crate with strange sealed Eldar food, then took a dagger from another crate. Since spells rely on symbols, writing methods and inks play the role of catalysts. As a psyker, I'll need a tool for rituals.

  Looking around, I saw crates, more crates, weapons, and Imoen hugging her sword while actively finishing meat from the cauldron. I would join her, but the larvae had killed my appetite for a long time. How much volume can Rizalia teleport at once?

  This makes logistics meaningless, and she also changed the lighting. She extinguished the flames in the house with the power of thought! How did mandrakes not come to rule this entire world, and where did she go anyway?

  Fine, better focus on magic. Imoen is quite far from me; temporarily her abilities won't interfere with mine.

  "Is there a way to find the shadows I need in the warp?"

  Isha once again expressed emotions of joy.

  "You're trying to understand how magic works, not asking about new spells. This makes you smarter than most believers. The word you need is 'magic.'"

  An image of a rather simple Eldar ritual formed in my head.

  "Start quickly; I'm interested in your thoughts."

  Sounds like observing a lab rat.

  "Understood."

  So, let's begin. We pronounce in Eldar. Carve the symbol of magic on the floor, then express emotions. Direct the power.

  For a moment, the world around me plunged into various colors. I focused on a familiar image of a plant. The colors disappeared, and I saw an incomprehensible silhouette. New thoughts about the information I needed smoothly appeared on their own, and then I left this space.

  Returning to reality, I felt a slight weakness, but I received emotions connected with this plant!

  Searching through memory, I began trying to apply the spell of Isha I needed. First, I need to cut open my hands. This is quite difficult to do, psychologically unpleasant to cut yourself.

  Done. Now we speak in standard High Gothic about 'corn.' Express the necessary emotions. Draw Isha's runes with blood on the floor.

  For a moment I felt that something was hindering me, but this feeling quickly disappeared. I looked at the floor, but nothing was happening.

  Waiting...

  With a creak, several sprouts emerged from beneath the floorboards.

  It works! Amazing!

  I examined the sprout, which was slowly taking mature form. After just five minutes, before me was standard mature Earth corn. The cob reached the ceiling, and the plant looked so natural.

  No, this is incredible! I haven't seen such ordinary familiar corn since my rebirth in the hive city. I don't understand the composition of this plant, can't transform inanimate into living. But using Isha's protective spell, I literally created a plant that doesn't exist in this world!

  "Congratulations, you've created your first spell."

  So one can modify ready-made spells this way?

  "This seems... easy."

  I just replaced the word and emotions.

  "It's easy because a warp god shares with you not only spells but also necessary knowledge. This allows you to compose new spells without having to beg me for spells and offer bloody sacrifices for them. Now for the mistakes—you again tried to influence space with imagination! You almost attracted the attention of the unborn; I had to partially take control of your body and correct you. If we discard all these parameters, magic is a very simple manipulation of the warp."

  Only a fool wouldn't find mockery in this.

  "Well, perhaps my thoughts were slightly arrogant."

  I don't think gaining an understanding of magic composition is so easy. Especially when almost all gods in this world are jerks.

  "True, now recall your thoughts—do you still consider the Eldar arrogant idiots? My children have been doing this their entire lives. You've done something similar just once but immediately acquired the corresponding mindset. Do you know what this looks like?"

  It's as if I'm being reprimanded, but it would be difficult to argue with such statements.

  "Déjà vu? I found myself in the same situation and then behaved just like many Eldar."

  The goddess paused; her emotions unusually fluctuated.

  "Yes, a good word, but there have been many such déjà vus. Everyone who learns to control the warp considers themselves special. Driven by our arrogance, we make mistakes... we fall. We, the Eldar, you, the golden god, demons, and even the four."

  "Sounds depressing."

  The goddess paused again.

  "Depression, yes. Perhaps I've been depressed for thousands of years, but without understanding oneself, one cannot correct mistakes made. We knew that time doesn't affect the warp, but we ignored the one who craves. The prediction pointed to the Eldar, but even I didn't analyze the information because we considered ourselves invincible. Everything was so easy, everything came to us so simply..."

  I don't think I should ask what she's talking about...

  "Thank you for the advice..."

  "Better to learn from others' mistakes than your own; usually, there's no second chance..."

  The goddess suddenly fell silent, and I was left to think about how to avoid such thoughts. Just recently, the warp wasn't under my control; any manipulation led to whispers. Now having received freedom, I truly felt that everything was so easy. I shouldn't think of demons as idiots; if they could defeat the Eldar gods, a simple psyker who has been taught magic is an easy snack.

  I wanted to start a new spell, but...

  My plans were interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

  I saw an unfamiliar Drukhari.

  Ashen hair, a cloak with decorative fur, azure armor, and completely black eyes.

  "And Asdrubael Vect is right. Mon-keigh without a whip become melancholic."

  Nervously scrolling through Isha's spells, I finally found the one I needed, but my thoughts were interrupted by a feeling of cold on my neck, and at the entrance, I no longer saw her.

  "Too late, you should have attacked as soon as she entered."

  A familiar voice slightly calmed my nerves. The mandrake entered following the Drukhari. The dagger no longer pressed against my neck, and I realized that in less than an instant, the unfamiliar Drukhari had appeared behind me. Imoen's eyes widened, and she picked up the sword lying on the crate. Then seeing the mandrake, Imoen calmed down and came closer.

  The Drukhari examined me, then looked at Imoen.

  For a moment she looked at her sword. Emotions betrayed her, and her smile turned into a puzzled expression. This lasted only a moment; then she smiled again.

  "Not bad mon-keigh, rare mutants. Beautiful skin..."

  Rizalia also appeared behind the unknown Drukhari. Placing a hand on her shoulder, she stated ultimatively.

  "Their skin cannot be removed. Want to help with training?"

  The ashen-haired blonde shrugged, then waved her hand.

  "A simple test is enough for me. If it's not the girl participating, my toy will win."

  The mandrake smiled and extended her hand, and the stranger disappeared in a vortex of shadows. She hid her smile and almost inaudibly whispered.

  "Interesting, what was Aradia trying to say?"

  The mandrake examined Imoen but found no problems except for the strange shape of the sword. The form indicated Eldar origin, but this was a djinn...

  The Drukhari temporarily dismissed questions. She turned to me and said mockingly.

  "You haven't disappointed me. Reaction time at the level of a stone. With such reactions, in Commorragh they'll cut your throat on the first day. This after all the modifications I made to your body."

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Thanks for the reminder...

  "Are all Eldar this fast?"

  Rizalia smirked, then made a hand gesture. I couldn't see her movements.

  "This speed requires modification of the skin. Air resistance would burn without it. She's an archon. Guess how many you need to kill to retain such a position? Without certain skills, archons don't survive even a day in their workplace. Your main error wasn't in reaction speed; you hesitated—why didn't you send lightning at her?"

  "That's raw warp manipulation through imagination. The goddess taught me magic."

  The mandrake demonstratively looked at the corn stalk. Her face lit up with a crooked smile.

  "Growing food... that's wonderful, of course, but if your magic activation time isn't one-tenth of a second, you're dead."

  Very funny.

  "Informative."

  The mandrake tore off a corn cob, then took a bite. Nodding with satisfaction, she chewed it, then decided to take another bite. Only after half a minute did she express the results of her tasting.

  "Not bad; as a gardener slave of the kabal, you qualify."

  "I'm afraid the goddess won't allow engaging in such activities."

  The mandrake waved her hand. Then threw the unfinished cob on the floor.

  "Let's go outside. Our guest brought props for your training."

  We followed her outside. Even more new items appeared on the clearing. Only they were in the form of giant opaque bags. Rizalia wanted to approach a bag but took several steps aside. She bent down and began digging the earth with her claws.

  Would I die if I joked about dog habits? Would an Eldar understand my joke?

  "I'll give her permission for physical punishment."

  Better save my jokes for later.

  Meanwhile, the mandrake dug a small pit and pulled out a strange device. The design and spikes suggested its Eldar origin.

  "As expected, a good gift. Did Aradia like the planet?"

  Pressing a few buttons, she placed the device on the ground. Then examined our swords.

  "So you're aesthetes—a withering blade and a Djinn."

  Imoen asked with confusion.

  "You said to choose a weapon. Did I make a mistake somewhere?"

  "Actually, I borrowed this weapon for myself from the kabal, but I don't have two pairs of hands. I don't mind you taking it. It's a dangerous and interesting choice, but shimmer steel is still better."

  The mandrake pointed to Imoen's sword.

  "One-on-one battle doesn't overload cognitive and physical abilities, but if hundreds of enemies fight against you at once, your capabilities will be limited. Why not solve the problem of your weakness? The idea of Djinns is to keep a powerful soul inside the blade. The sword should assist its owner. Give it to me; I want to see who's inside."

  Imoen extended the sword, but as soon as it left her hands...

  Rizalia felt the strongest warp presence. She was overwhelmed by images of blood, and then she saw a hill of skulls. The space was burning, and the sword in her hand wanted to break free. The demon tried to speak to her, but the energies of the Elindrach shadows broke its illusion.

  Rizalia examined the sword hilt, then understood her apprentice's reaction.

  Somewhat shocked, she handed the sword back to Imoen. The Drukhari watched the girl's reaction carefully, mentally drawing certain conclusions.

  Why was such a djinn in Aradia's storage? Why didn't she think to check the weapon she was teleporting? What genius decided to stuff the soul of a greater unborn into a sword? The material is also surprising—the sword is made of psychobone, then disguised, which hints at the involvement of outside Eldar in the experiment... There were no problems with the sword, but the soul's power is quite capable of killing the owner. All paths lead to Commorragh, and all problems come from Khaine.

  She was certain the group of barbarians who believe in a mentally retarded god were to blame. Who else could make this sword?

  Interesting. What face would the sword's creators make when they learn it ended up in the hands of mon-keigh?

  "You don't feel discomfort? Your sword is a bit special."

  Even she would find it difficult to wield such a sword.

  Imoen shook her head.

  "I looked at the weapons you brought, but I was drawn only to this one."

  The girl touched the blade, then smiled brightly.

  "I feel... It's hard to describe, but I feel..."

  She couldn't express the emotions the sword gave her. The girl addressed the goddess, then received an answer and continued contentedly.

  "The goddess said that a negative soul affects emotions badly, but the demon inside the sword complements my soul well."

  Demon! Did I hear correctly? Is this normal?

  "Yes, but usually djinns contain weak demons, Drukhari, or Eldar. And this is a greater demon; it's trapped, but still, it can kill its owner."

  I looked at my sword and shuddered slightly; one shouldn't underestimate the degree of 'normality' among the Eldar.

  They probably have a standard situation. Pick up a random object, and a demon kills you.

  "Can you stuff a Tyranid into such swords? An Eternal? A living saint? An Ork?"

  There were strange sounds in my head resembling mumbling.

  "Interesting ideas you have. I haven't encountered Tyranids or living saints. If they have souls, it's quite possible. Theoretically, if you increase the load, an Eternal's soul can become a good energy source. Orks' abilities are interesting, but they have a god. Better not provoke them."

  Good, I already have plans. It would be interesting to get a whole arsenal of swords with different abilities.

  "Does djinn creation fall under the magical tutoring program of teacher Isha?"

  Mockery was heard in the goddess's voice.

  "Once we convert the population of this planet to my believers, I'll teach you to make djinns."

  And there's the carrot; like a donkey, I certainly won't resist.

  "I have faith in you! Should share my thoughts with those around me."

  "Cheap faith you have, pastor."

  Distracted by the conversation with Isha, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the giant bags moving. It was as if there were living organisms inside...

  What did she mean by props?

  Meanwhile, the mandrake finished questioning Imoen.

  "If the sword doesn't affect you, that's your advantage. I didn't prepare instructions in your memory for working with such a weapon, but I've had similar experience. Let me describe its capabilities to you. The sword extracts all the skills of the soul sealed within it. The demon sealed there can fight, enhance its body, regenerate, and repair equipment. All clear?"

  Something tells me my sword is much more ordinary and dull.

  "Is it like the memory you placed in my head?"

  Imoen gently stroked the sword blade, then looked expectantly into Rizalia's eyes.

  The Drukhari wanted to speak, to tell that such demons possess perfect combat skills. The ability to fight using all their capabilities. But this would look as if she were weaker than a greater unborn. As a mandrake, she has some pride.

  "No, the capabilities of the creature inside the sword are much higher than the muscle memory the bio-capsules implanted in you. I'm still curious how the sword doesn't affect you... It's throwing me off a bit."

  Rizalia wanted to add that now she understands why her apprentice ran away so quickly. She would also flee from such a bomb.

  The mandrake again dismissed thoughts about the djinn; she turned to me and extended her hand.

  "Give me your sword; there shouldn't be any surprises there."

  I stepped forward and, turning the sword handle-first, handed it to her. The mandrake ran her fingers along the cutting edge, then returned it.

  "This is an ordinary withering blade. Made entirely from the bones of a void beast. Unfortunately, the sword uses only one of its abilities. Your mental commands allow the sword to absorb moisture from everything it touches. Killing doesn't require aiming at vital organs. Just touch the enemy; any living creature will turn into a withered corpse."

  She returned the sword to me, then turned and approached one of the large bags. Opening it, she patted the head of a bound man.

  "And here are our props."

  The man was jerking, trying to free himself, and demonstrating hatred in his glances. His mouth was stuffed with rags and tightly bound. Next to him lay a backpack of exotic style.

  When Imoen and I approached, his reaction became more emotional. I was ready to joke, but his Imperial Guard uniform... those violet eyes... damn dog from Cadia!

  My fingers twitched; the medallion on my chest again reminded me of the Imperium. It was the Cadians who escorted the black ship that took my sister and me. The more I looked at the violet eyes, the more I wanted to rip them out. Rational analysis suggested the stupidity of these actions. I guessed why Rizalia brought him, but the desire to kill the Cadian didn't go away.

  "I don't want to spoil him too quickly."

  The mandrake took the backpack, opened it, then laid out a strange set of metal blades and needles.

  "Imoen, we'll start training your medical assistance skills."

  The mandrake waited for the girl to approach, then turned her face to me and looked into my eyes.

  "I see you're burning with hatred."

  Need to calm down.

  "Indeed..."

  As if reading my thoughts, the Drukhari smiled understandingly.

  "Such emotions are a weakness; you'll learn to control them."

  Logical...

  "How exactly?"

  I just need to calm down; I've lived as a psyker my whole life. I can tolerate being in the presence of a Cadian.

  "I want you not to kill him."

  The mandrake chose a strange-looking blade, then handed it to me. Without thinking, I took it in my hands.

  "For starters, cut off one of our prop's fingers."

  She cut off a piece of the soldier's pants with her claws, then cut the fabric into strips. In the end, she handed Imoen all these rags.

  "Sterility is important in medicine, but our prop is disposable. So just try to stop the bleeding. We need to manifest your muscle memory."

  Rizalia turned to me again.

  "While Imoen is using the prop, open the severed finger and carefully direct your power into it. The goddess will guide you. You need to understand the structure of bones, nerves, joints, and muscles. Then use the goddess's knowledge in spells. As soon as I confirm the quality of the bandaging, use healing magic. You and I will learn to regrow human limbs."

  My feet brought me to the prop on their own.

  "Sounds like a plan. Finger of the foot or hand?"