Night of Revelations - Bane of Commorragh: High above the carnage, Asdrubael Vect's gigantic viewing pyramid rose on a thrumming cushion of sound. The bass note of its grav-engines squirmed in the guts of all present as it headed towards the heart of the Corespur district.The Tyrant of Commorragh had not ruled over his impossible domain for so long without developing a keen instinct for when to be elsewhere, and did not intend to linger.Instead, he sent his proxies to restore order. Sleek knife-craft peeled away from the titanic fuselage of Vect's pyramid, veering silently towards the arena's heart.Some sixth sense woke Yvraine from her deathly apotheosis. The ground quaked beneath her feet as she gathered her wits. Though she did not realise it, the metaphysical explosion centred around her had a far graver effect on the Dark City than merely destroying part of the Crucibael.Her surviving Bloodbrides ran to join her as the crackling white energies of her transformation had dispersed. Nearby, armed warriors vaulted over the arena's bladed walls. They were heading directly for the reborn Succubus, guns and voices raised as they took their chance to pounce.Instinct took over. Quick as a snake, Yvraine leaned out of the path of a volley of poison-tipped needles and cartwheeled one-handed over a searing dark lance beam.She vaulted into the shadow of a lumbering Tyrannofex sending swarms of ﬂesh-eating beetle-creatures into the crowd; the immense creature's ironhard bulk provided a better defensive position than any of the arena's elegantly appointed balustrades. Eyes darting, she forced her thoughts into focus, and braved a glance past the beast at her attackers.It did not look good. Her assailants were Kabalite Trueborn, by their insignia, and they had whole shrines of Incubi with them. Those Klaive-wielding artisans of murder preferred not to fight in the arena, seeing it as a distasteful display that could only expose their strengths and weaknesses in the long term. Tonight, they were evidently prepared to make an exception.Yvraine was slowly becoming aware of the extreme danger she was in. Not only had she effectively slain hundreds of the Dark City's finest, she had become possessed by an eldritch force, and judging by the shuddering sands beneath her feet, shaken the entire district to its foundations. The Incubi would be the least of her worries when the Haemonculi moved in. No doubt they planned to dissect her in agonising, drawn-out detail.Yvraine's Bloodbrides ran in zigzagging, bounding packs towards the oncoming Incubi, meeting the mercenaries' two-handed Klaives with Shardnets, Razorﬂails and Impalers. Blood ﬂew in graceful arcs as a hurricane of blades erupted. For a while, neither side seemed to be able to gain the upper hand.The sculpted, dense metallo-fibres of the Incubi's armour protected them from the slashing blades of all but the nimblest Hekatarii, and the Incubi landed few blows in return, for the Bloodbrides moved with preternatural speed.Then each shrine's Klaivex leader triggered his Bloodstone. Waves of pain wracked the Bloodbrides, sending them staggering backwards. The Incubi were close enough to capitalise, their movements so smooth it was obvious that they had practiced this manoeuvre a thousand times. A score of Bloodbrides died in just a few Terran seconds. With the Trueborn moving in to take their choice of kills, the stalemate became a slaughter.Yvraine felt an intense pressure build up in her head, every fresh death intensifying the feeling. The incredible sensations swelling in her soul threatened to blind her, deafen her, or stun her into a coma. There was so much death, so many souls cut from their bodies, that she could not bear it. The ground itself swelled with power.Yvraine spat out six words that had arrived unbidden to her lips. The lights of the arena, almost painfully bright so the spectators could see every nuance of the fights, dimmed to low twilight. The bright designs of the Wyches' ritual outfits were leached of all colour.Even the splashes of blood that seemed to arc in slow motion through the air were rendered near-black by the sudden illusion of monochrome. Yvraine felt a great gale of pent-up energy escape her, a palpable force that left her feeling as clear-minded and eager as a youth at a rite of passage.The gladiatrix vaulted from the cover of the Tyrannofex corpse, snatching up her Huskblade from its resting place on the sands. The sword, like Yvraine herself, had been transformed. The elegant blade resonated at her touch, and as she held it aloft in her newly-gauntleted hand, it was radiant with power. She whipped her head around to find the best route out, and saw a scene from a disturbing dream.The corpses of several dozen Drukhari fanned out from her position, many of her Bloodbrides lying amongst scatterings of Incubi and Trueborn that had fallen dead without a single obvious wound. Yvraine felt her throat tighten at the sight, her eyes hurting with the intensity of the stark spectacle around her.The fairings and balustrades of the arena were still embattled, knots of Tyranids hacking and slicing their way into the city beyond. Yvraine shouted a quick order to her surviving Bloodbrides and ran towards the thinnest area of the crowd, Huskbladeglowing in her left hand as she retrieved her Bladefan with her right.Slashing, jumping, and darting left and right, Yvraine -- and the two dozen Bloodbrides still by her side -- broke as fast as they could for the edge of the arena. A wall of Kabalites barred her path, but as a great shout of anger forced itself from her lips, many of them were ripped from their feet as if by invisible ghosts.It was too much for their comrades. The morbid display had seemed too close to the psychic arts, strictly forbidden in Commorragh due to the likelihood of drawing the gaze of Slaanesh and hence dooming the entire city to a catastrophic Dysjunction.Few amongst them realised that dire event was already unfolding, a full-blown daemonic invasion erupting beneath their feet.As Yvraine ran, a Hellion in the gang colours of the Ghyrebats swooped in, desperate to make a name for himself by capturing or killing the focal point of the carnage. Stepping under the youth's outstretched glaive, Yvraine ﬂicked out her Huskblade and impaled him with its tip.The young warrior fell from his Skyboard, which came to a smooth halt as its rider fell apart -- not into arid dust, as was usual for the Huskblade's touch, but in a cascade of tiny, glowing embers.Somehow, Yvraine heard the howl of the Hellion's soul as it departed its body. Although it dwindled, the scream did not recede altogether.The soul had not been drained, nor stolen away by the sucking pull of She Who Thirsts as with all other Drukhari. In an unlikely moment of contrition, Yvraine felt empathy with that dying soul. A heartbeat later, a new voice was in her head, mewling with fear.Distracted as she was, only the sound of armoured footsteps on the sand saved Yvraine from a swift decapitation.She leaned back, an Incubus' Klaive whistling less than a finger's breadth from her nose as another of the weapons came in low. With her own blade, she turned the second Klaive aside and upwards, ensuring it crashed into the first hard enough to buy her some space.She levelled a solid kick to the midriff of one of the assailants and a hard elbow to the other, giving her time to recover. Yvraine snarled as she saw that six more Incubi were circling around her, and that her Bloodbrides were similarly beset.The mercenary killers stepped in close, blades raised in ritualistic battle stances. They would attack as one, a pack of predators rather than a loose gathering of competitors like the Wych Cults. Against such disciplined strength, even a Succubus would find her life expectancy measured in Terran seconds. Yvraine raised her aberrant new Huskblade into a guard stance, and curled a finger to beckon them to their deaths -- or perhaps to hers.She saw a ﬂash of crimson armour behind the Incubi, and two of their number were suddenly headless. Horned helms bounced away as another was halved at the waist. With a ﬂash of inspiration, Yvraine jumped sidelong and grabbed the Ghyrebat's hovering Skyboard, legs swinging out wide to kick the fourth Incubus in the head with neck-breaking force.She swung onto the delicate machine as if born to it; though she had never so much as touched a Skyboard, she was suddenly familiar with every nuance. Triggering its splinter pod, she shot down a fifth Incubus just as the sixth was cut in half from neck to groin by the crimson fighter. The last two shrine-warriors backed away and ran.Disquieted and angry, Yvraine leapt from the skyboard and pointed her blade towards the newcomer as his own fighters rallied to him. He was armed and armoured in the style of Bel-Anshoc, a genius artisan whose style Yvraine recognised from sculptures and paintings of the Eldar's long-lost past.More than that, his guard stance was familiar. She had witnessed several of his looping blows in the fight, the very same moves she had used to great effect since her days as an Aspect Warrior. This mysterious swordsman was clearly not her enemy.The newcomer saluted, offering his sword as a group of Incubi hurried to stand at his side. The mercenaries too made the sign of the proffered blade, their swords level with the horned helms of their battle armour."More sellswords," spat Yvraine. She shook her head dismissively, striding towards the grand arena's exit; if they were not here to kill her, at least they would not slow her down. The newcomer and his warriors kept pace, padding alongside her like wolves on the hunt. She glanced at their leader irritably as a group of Reavers -- Vect's pets, the Flesh Wraiths, by their colours -- zoomed in close."I do not need the protection of a male," snarled Yvraine, leaning backward to avoid a slashing bladevane before ﬂicking a stiletto from her Bladefan into the back of the rider's neck. He hit the crystalline sands hard, limbs twisted at odd angles.Nearby, the crimson warrior lunged, lancing his blade's tip into an oncoming Reaver's chest. The Jetbike rider spiralled out of control before crashing into the arena's balustrade. The bladesman span on his heel, ducked, and thrust his greatsword upward through another Reaver as he made a pass overhead.Yvraine frowned. "You have copied my sword-form well," she said."Quite the contrary, girl," said the stranger. His tone had the crisp inﬂection of a Drukhari noble house. Yvraine felt memory well up within her. Only one soul alive dared address her in that manner."You fight well, impostor," said Yvraine. "I may let you live. I will take your blade as tribute, in memory of the true Exarch Laarian.""Although I have sought quite another since I strode Coheria's crystal sands, this mortal blade I shall not relinquish, not yet. Look to your own sword. It is Kha-vir, blessed by Ynnead. Just as you are blessed in turn, True Child of the Aeldari."Gritting her teeth, Yvraine plunged the tip of her sword into a swerving Reaver, reducing the rider to embers. "Ynnead? So it truly was the Whispering God who appeared to me. Who are you, to have such knowledge? Was it Lady Malys that sent you?""I am simply called The Visarch, for I cast aside my name long ago," came the reply, "but it would be very familiar to you. Yvraine of the Biel-Tani, our paths join once more."With their new allies close, Yvraine and her Bloodbrides emerged triumphant from the melee at the arena's heart. Like a ﬂowing river, the clique of warriors moved ﬂuidly to the nearest egress portal. They avoided the skirmishes between Tyranids and Drukhari and instead sought the streets of the Dark City proper. Yvraine headed for Sec Maegra, for that district of Commorragh was a teeming sub-metropolis famous for a dizzying variety of ne'er-do-wells -- sellswords of far lower repute than Incubi.There, she would find many of her old allies, from Corsair princes to disfigured Wyches and other outcasts. Should she stay one step ahead of her pursuers as the Dark City reeled from the night's events, she would in theory be able to reach the docks -- and with luck, enlist the Corsairs of her former capital ship, Lanathrialle, to her cause.Yvraine's possession by the macabre god Ynnead had shaken the very fabric of the Dark City. Far away, a miscarried ritual conducted by Eldrad Ulthran on the crystal moon of Coheria had twisted Yvraine's fate -- chosen by forces unknown, she had died at the exact moment of the god's ascension.This conﬂuence of Empyrean energy and realspace ﬂesh was so severe it led to a hyperspatial quake known in Commorragh as a Dysjunction. Dozens of spires toppled and districts turned in on themselves, skyscraping statues and high towers shivered and fell apart. Millions died, but there were worse fates in store for those who still braved the streets.Beneath Commorragh there is a sealed portal known as Khaine's Gate. This has existed for time immemorial, bound by arcane means against the daemon hosts on the other side. Desperate to break in, these hungry fiends have ever grown louder and more insistent, so much so that Asdrubael Vect himself had recently ceded this once-prized territory to his rivals.As the Dysjunction shook the Dark City, the vaulted chambers around Khaine's Gate collapsed, killing the caged psychic Nulls that protected it from Warp breach.The gate glowed white hot, and then, with a cracking boom, burst open. Thousands of daemons poured through, cackling with cruel glee as they sank blades, claws and fangs into any unfortunate enough to cross their paths.Urgent spates of conﬂict ﬂowed into one another as Kabals, Wych Cults, and even the Covens of the Haemonculi found themselves attacked by daemons of every conceivable kind. Vect and his Kabal had already made haste for safe havens long prepared in the shadowy recesses of the Webway.Commorragh was truly vast; it would survive even this. Knowing the daemons would bring disaster, he had left his rivals to suffer the brunt of the invasion. Once they had expended every resource in their struggle against the daemon invasion, Vect would return to the Dark City and bring it to heel once more.Yvraine's ﬂight to Sec Maegra saw her fight through acquisitive Wracks, half-real Khymerae and even a bloodspattered cavalcade of Daemonettes, but eventually she reached the spinedock that held her allies' ship.The blade-wielding Visarch and his mercenary escort had intervened a dozen times on Yvraine's behalf, and each time their intervention had tipped the balance in the gladiatrix's favour. She had no time to share more than a few words of thanks with the warrior; for now, she was content that they both fought on the same side.Though she did not fully comprehend it, Yvraine's fate was the fulcrum upon which the fate of trillions had turned. She had been resurrected in a form far stranger and more powerful than even that of the Haemonculi who sought her.The Daughter of Shades had been Reborn, her journey to demigodhood hastened by a profound bond forged with Ynnead upon the threshold of death. In the process, she had all but doomed the city of Commorragh to the long-feared daemonic invasion.