78 – From the Ashes … sort of

78 – From the Ashes ... sort of

“Ehm,” I glanced up at Selene, “I can’t really make drones to catch me the test su- *cough* escaping cultists. Could you collect some for me?”

“Sure?” Selene looked at me weirdly. Was there something weird on my face?

“Thanks,” I smiled at her.

“Okay then,” she shrugged and let go of the man, letting my TK take over from her. “See you later?”

“Yes,” I gave her a wave. “I’ll have an interesting story to tell too.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I am curious why you are like that.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed, “Bye~”

Then she was off, throwing another curious glance at me. There must be something on my face.

I reached up patting down my cheeks, chin, hair, ears. Everything was there.

“Do I look weird?” I asked the woman, who was still holding her malnourished daughter behind her like a protective mama bear.

“No?” She was giving me looks mirroring Selene’s.

“Really?” I tilted my head, turning my psychic senses on myself for a moment, just to make sure. “Aha!”

My facial structure was all wrong, I still looked similar enough to my Psyker Form to be easily recognisable, but my cheekbones were a bit too high, my chin was a bit too low and my nose was a bit too wide. Plus I had freckles on my cheeks.

God I hate freckles.

If there was one thing that topped the list of things I wanted to change about myself in my previous life, it was freckles. They were worse than my all too wide nose or my boring shade of brown hair.

Thankfully, a quick surge of bio-energy washed away those imperfections and brought me closer to my ideal image.

I conjured up a small mirror, Psychic Illusions being more than capable of the task.

“Hmm,” I turned my face left and right. “It will do for now.”

“Excuse me?” spoke up the woman, looking at me like a weird animal. Then she glanced at Bob, suspended mid-air as he was without being able to twitch as much as a finger. “Uhm, I can see that you wanted him, right?”

“Not quite,” I shrugged. “I wanted souls to experiment with, and the runaway cultists will serve me well for that.”

The woman gulped, she’d been staring at me like I’d bite her daughter’s head off at any moment. If that could take a turn for the worse, it did as I finished my sentence.

“So,” she cleared her throat, standing up straight and aiming a resolved gaze at me. “Can we go then?”

“Go where?” I asked, my lips curling in amusement. “These caverns are dead ends and all around us is only wasteland for hundreds of kilometers.”

“I, we- , we will find a way,” she muttered.

“Stay here,” I offered. “In a few hours I’ll open up a portal leading to Arx Angelicum. You know what that is, right?”

“Y-yes,” she answered with a trembling voice, her eyes wide in what I thought was disbelief. “Yes, thank you! Erm- I mean Thank You My Lady?”

“You are welcome,” I smirked. Once again, I am acting like something I am not. It’s more of a misunderstanding this time though.

Sanctioned Psykers were a thing, a known thing. All Psykers were feared as witches or something like that, the populace at large both feared and hated them for their abominable power. This of course, applied to those Sanctioned by the Imperium.

Even if they wouldn’t run away screaming or get their pitchforks when they saw a Sanctioned Psyker — like they’d do with an unsanctioned one — the hate and fear remained. It was something beaten into humans through many millennia of Psykers being born and causing calamities.

His eyes flew wide and his struggling calmed down.

“I think I know what you want, but I haven’t bothered looking too deeply into your mind so I want you to tell me just to be sure,” I slowly removed his face mask made up of solidified psychic power. Green Lantern had nothing on these force objects. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Bring her back,” he wheezed, eyes going bloodshot as he stared without blinking. “Bring her back!”

“By that you mean,” I placed a hand on my hips and started playfully throwing the gem up and catching it. “‘Please oh so mighty being, forge a new body for the unfortunate soul trapped in that spirit stone’, right? Or is it more like: ‘Please make a new body for my steaming hot totally-not-heretical Eldar girlfriend, I hadn’t gotten laid in over a century!’?”

His mouth fell open, then closed. He repeated that for a while, mimicking a fish out of the water. Even his wide eyes are matching.

“How?”

“Dumb question,” I chided him. “I asked you a question.”

“Please,” he scrunched his eyes. “Give her back to me.”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll take pity on you this once, I will accept that answer.”

He slumped in my hold, stopping his struggling for the first time since I laid eyes on him.

“Now then,” I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. “Will you be a good boy if I drop you Bob?”

“Yes,” he said, his face twisting as if he bit into an unripe lemon.

“Good.” I dropped him. “Let’s get walking then, group. It is a long walk from here back to the surface.”

Then we were off with me leading the way and the other three following after me a few meters back, though Bob kept some distance from the mother-daughter pair.

My clock was ticking, I wanted to summon up my refreshment bio-energy from my Puddle ASAP. Then I could go about fiddling with souls and maybe by the end of it I’ll have a way to not only shove that Eldar Soul back into a living body, but also to fix Selene’s problem.

Because that’s what it was, if you haven't realized already. Bob here was protecting a Spirit Stone like his life depended on it, just like the one Val had embedded into his clothes around his chest. Though, his was purplish and not sapphire blue like this one.

Fun times ahead. How would the Eldar react to seeing my real soul in its entirety when I shove it into my puddle? Will she freak out? Proclaim me the incarnation of one of her dead gods? Or will she just do/say something entirely stupid and idiotic?

I was leaning towards the last one based on my not-too-extensive knowledge of Eldar lore, Valenith was far too normal and had far too much common sense compared to the Eldar I’d read about. Basing your actions on idiotic visions of the future that won’t even come to pass is the go to plan for most Eldar.

There was that time when they sent an entire group of Rangers just to kill the baby Primarch Angron when he crash landed on Nuceria, just because their Farseer saw a future version of him wreck some Eldar.

Now, this seems entirely relatable and understandable right? But as it turns out, killing a baby Primarch is beyond the capabilities of a centuries old trained group of Eldar Rangers. Yes, they failed to kill a damned baby, but they managed to weaken him enough so when human slavers found him, he couldn’t resist capture.

And that was the start of his path down a spiraling path of anger and destruction which also included wrecking more than ‘some’ Eldar.

Idiots.

Good thing I was better than them, there was no Farseer who could exceed my stellar foresight!

[~ding~ *snort* ‘foresight’ ]

Oh shut up!

I glared at nothing in particular, my feet stomping just a bit stronger than before which made the little girl jump up in fright.

“Oops, sorry,” I threw a smile back. What did they do to that poor thing to have her react to just that little expression of annoyance.

Caverns turned and bent but we kept on walking, even the little girl was coming along on her own two legs with a growing feeling of vitality, probably not having been able to even stand for a good while before I alleviated her ailments.

I oohed as the flickering light of a faroff torch sent long shadows over the walls, contesting with my tiny orb of light which floated along a few centimeters above my head.