Battle of Biel-Tan - The Yncarne: Flanked by statues of the Eldar's mythological heroes and with the Visarch standing silently beside her, Yvraine spoke long and well to the assembled masses. At first her voice seemed that of a wise mother giving stern guidance. As her speech continued and her passion came through, her tone changed to that of a youth caught up in the first ﬂush of strength and determination.When challenged by a disbelieving elder, her voice changed once more, to the acid tones of a crone who had no time to suffer fools. Her presence was strong -- not in the way that Jain Zar's stoic warrior soul lit a fire in the soul of every Eldar who saw her, but in the manner of storms to come; cold, close, and with the promise of destruction on the horizon.There was only one way for the Eldar of Biel-Tan to survive the daemonic curse that the Masque had brought upon them. Be they living or dead, the Biel-Tani risked oblivion anew with every Terran hour that slid past. She was the emissary of a deity that had never truly been born, yet whose power eclipsed the stars. She could guide them to a new future if they would allow it. All those present had heard the name that fell from her lips, yet when she spoke it, every Eldar there felt a grave-cold claw of trepidation settle upon the heart.Ynnead, the god of the dead, had finally awakened.The susurrus of voices that swelled in response to Yvraine's unexpected declaration swiftly ebbed away as Jain Zar stepped forward, her imperious gaze sweeping around the assembly. Yvraine waited until even her most strident detractors had grown silent, then continued. She spoke of the nascent god's power, and of revelations to come.The accepted wisdom was that for Ynnead to manifest fully and defeat Slaanesh forever, every Eldar in the galaxy had to die, giving the composite god-spirit strength enough to prevail in the Warp. Many nodded in agreement; that was the myth, often recounted.Yet to wait for that final fate meant for the fires of the Eldar species to gutter and die out altogether. That could not be allowed to happen. Yvraine proposed another way -- the Seventh Path, which wound between the darkness and the light.Yvraine relayed the vision she had witnessed in the Crucibael of Commorragh, and the secret knowledge that had come with it. Ynnead's sentience would be focussed upon five enchanted bones, cast across the sovereign domain of the Eldar. These took the form of swords entrusted to the agents of the Eldar gods in aeons past. Legend had it they were carved by the Smith God Vaul, each fashioned from a finger of the Crone Goddess Morai-Heg's severed hand.Together, these blades had the power to awaken a god; if wielded in the right hands, they had dominion over life as well as death. At this, Yvraine raised Kha-vir, the Sword of Sorrows, by way of demonstration. Power shone from its elegant edge, both dark and light at the same time.There were four more such blades, said Yvraine, two of which were lost amongst the ruins of the Crone Worlds of the lost Aeldari Empire. Should all five be drawn and blooded together, Ynnead should have a strong enough psychic focus in realspace to awaken fully and manifest his potential as the downfall of Slaanesh.One of these so-called Croneswords, Asu-var, the Sword of Silent Screams, lay within the heart of Craftworld Biel-Tan itself. It was that blade which Yvraine intended to claim -- and in doing so, put the ailing craftworld out of its misery.This time the uproar that greeted Yvraine's proclamation was so clamourous that no word could be made out against another. The Exarch Taralath Shadowheart darted forward, his biting blade revving, only to be knocked from his feet by the ﬂat of Jain Zar's polearm. Others started forward, their faces masks of aggression and despair. Yvraine kept calm, but the Visarch moved to guard her, powered sword held in wordless challenge.The time for words was over. The emissary of Ynnead closed her eyes, channelled her inner light into the blood red gauntlet that formed her left hand, and plunged a fist deep into the infected wraithbone core of the craftworld.A breathless moment passed, and there was a thunderous boom as Yvraine suddenly pulled Asu-var from the wraithbone spine of Craftworld Biel-Tan. She drew it forth as if the iron-hard ground was no more solid than a pool of water. Dripping psychic by-product, the greatblade burned with such fell light it seared the eye to witness it.Yvraine screamed in a mixture of triumph and pain as incredible psychic energies seared through her. She did not let the blade fall, for to do so was to damn her race to a slow extinction. This was a key as much as a sword -- one of five such keys that unlocked the last true hope of the Eldar, hidden long ago by the prescient goddess Morai-Heg in case the doorway to death itself needed to be ﬂung wide at the end of days.Underfoot, the craftworld shook as if in the throes of an earthquake. High pillars split, cracked along their length, and toppled to crash amidst billowing clouds of dust into the forests below. A million departed souls cried out, released from their bondage in the Infinity Circuit, where the ravenous daemons of Slaanesh roamed on their gluttonous hunt. The seismic shivers of the world-ship intensified, becoming an eruption."Arise!" cried Yvraine. "Arise and live!"Something terrible burst forth from the shattered wraithbone of the world-ship. Swathed in ectoplasm, it was a towering monstrosity of twisted bone and shimmering souls, both terrible and beautiful all at once. The gathered Biel-Tani clutched at their eyes, their hearts, their ears.They staggered and fell, clinging to the rubble of their beloved home even as it turned black and broke apart before their eyes. Amongst them stood Yvraine, glowing bright as she rose up into the air with a cry of fierce joy. The apparition before her spoke a word of deafening silence, and the void itself shook in response.The Yncarne, godly avatar of Ynnead, last hope of the Eldar, had risen.