Battle of Iyanden - Arrival on Ulthwé: The members of the Seer Council of Craftworld Ulthwé were the most skilled of all their kind. In the wake of the Battle of Biel-Tan, they saw clearly the revelation that Yvraine had engineered upon that craftworld.The most senior of their number, Eldrad Ulthran, demanded that Yvraine and her Reborn kin be brought to Ulthwé as swiftly as possible. In public, the rest of the Seer Council agreed his reasoning was sound. In private, when the High Farseer was deep in his meditations, they made subtle inferences that Eldrad had overstepped his bounds, and their agendas were no longer the same.The elders of Ulthwé conducted a great runic ritual at Eldrad's behest, using the spiritual link between the crystal Seers that populated the great Dome of Crystal Seers and those of Biel-Tan's recently devastated equivalent. The ritual was a gamble, despite the fact the hyperspatial link through the Warp was strong between the two craftworlds.Though the Warp Storms that raged near Ulthwé and Biel-Tan could theoretically be psychically channelled into a tunnel leading through the Warp from one craftworld to the other, the process might well consume the souls of the travellers that walked it -- and those that had conducted the ritual too.To use the crystal Seers as conduits for psychic energy instead of revering them as honoured ancestors was a gross breach of craftworld culture. It was considered even worse than taking a spirit into a Waystone and transferring it to a wraith construct.The Farseers that had undergone their kind's peculiar transformation into psychocrystal, before later joining with their craftworld's Infinity Circuit, had earned their long rest a dozen times over.To break the departed Seers from that connection, and to use them as mere tools for sorcery, was a heinous crime indeed -- but one Eldrad Ulthran had already committed, through his Harlequin proxies, on every craftworld across the galaxy during the Battle of Port Demesnus. Such was the urgency of the hour that the Farseer showed no compunction in doing so again.The Seers gambled much, if the ritual went awry -- in theory, a single lapse of concentration could see the portal open a tunnel into the Empyrean itself, allowing a daemonic incursion to spill into Ulthwé just as it had into Biel-Tan.If the Seers of Ulthwé had not been confident in their psychic supremacy, and had the mental might to back that confidence up, they may well have capsized the entire world-ship into the Warp. As it was, their skills proved equal to the task.The Seer Council had gathered in Ulthwé's fabled dome, answering Eldrad's summons. Their rune-emblazoned robes waved gently in the same warm zephyrs that caressed the branches of wraithbone trees in the distance.One of the undisputed wonders of the craftworlds, the Dome of Crystal Seers was dotted with staircases of spiralling wraithbone that stretched up to nowhere.All bar the highest steps harboured the fossilised remnants of an ancient Seer. Atop these staircases stood the luminaries of the craftworld, their voices joined in the Song of Ulthanash.Abruptly, the song ended. "Here we stand," spoke Eldrad from his position atop the tallest staircase, "ready to usher in a new age for Ulthwé and the Aeldari race.""Aeldari?" said Yemshon Il'foire. "That name has no place this side of the Fall.""Until now," said Eldrad. "Our guests-to-be resurrect it with good reason." Several of the Seers raised eyebrows by a fraction of an inch, but did not speak out. "We summon the bridge of stars," continued Eldrad, his fabled staff describing the Rune of the Infinite Stride. "This night we have need of it, no matter the cost.""As you say," said Aralie Coppermane, a strange edge to her voice, "we have no choice."The Farseers and Warlocks assembled atop the dome's stairways chanted once more, casting runes of star-striding and storm-walking into the air. The psychic runes rose, glowing, to describe a wide circle in the casters' midst. Glittering motes of light span around the symbols, faster and faster, as the dome's gentle breeze became a gale, then a hurricane.The periphery of the Warp Storm raging outside the craftworld curdled into the funnel of a tornado in space-time, the tip both remaining still and stretching untold light years into the aether.By the time the ritual was complete, three of Ulthwé's finest Farseers had turned to psychoreactive crystal from head to toe. In their midst, a portal shone -- within it, destiny made ﬂesh.With Eldrad Ulthran leading the runic rite, an unstable Warp portal opened up under Ulthwé's Dome of Crystal Seers. Uncounted light years away, Yvraine walked as if in a daze to the shattered equivalent upon Biel-Tan.What she found in that dome was all but invisible to the naked eye, but the Yncarne was drawn towards it as driftwood is drawn to a whirlpool. The Reborn -- the Ynnari -- for that was the name Yvraine's followers had adopted for themselves, passed through the Warp portal and vanished from Biel-Tan altogether.The howling, screaming vortex through which the Reborn passed was the embodiment of utter Chaos. So fierce and baleful was this passageway it would have robbed the sanity of a lesser being in a matter of moments. Yet the Reborn found themselves ﬂoating through a tunnel cut in the Warp unhindered, as if borne by an underwater current.At their fore was the Yncarne, a revenant creature so inimical to Chaos that the psychic stuff of the Empyrean could not slow it. Even the Gods of Chaos did not look upon the creature directly; the incarnation of Ynnead's essence was so anathema to them they could not truly perceive it, even had they known where to look.The ripples of the Avatar's passage ﬂowed outward nonetheless. Causing a great ruction in the Warp, the bow wave of its translocation cast Imperial voidships aside hundreds of light years away, ripping open Gellar Fields and distorting the light of the Astronomican.Thousands of human lives were lost with every solar second of the Reborn's passage. It was a price the Eldar would gladly pay a million times over if it gave them even the slightest chance of turning the tables upon their nemesis, Slaanesh.The tunnel through reality known as the Bridge of Stars yawned, spasmed and pulsed. Through that secret aperture came the Ynnari, the favoured of Ynnead, drawn from Biel-Tan across light years of space and time to Craftworld Ulthwé.The combination of the Seer Council of Ulthwé's runic powers and the powerful psyche of the Yncarne had brought the Reborn safely to the crystal havens of Ulthwé, one step closer to securing the two lost Croneswords that Yvraine sought from the husk of the lost Aeldari Empire.Though the manner of their coming had cost the lives of several Farseers and driven some of the Ynnari half-mad with fear, the stillness that descended upon Ulthwé's Dome of Crystal Seers after their safe passage was a balm to the soul.First to emerge was the Yncarne, hissing and whispering in the voices of the dead. The Ulthwéan Council felt the cold mantle of terror upon them at the sight. The creature came forward like a ghost, slow and ethereal, the energies of the otherworld swirling around it.It was slender and androgynous, yet far larger and more fearsome than any Asuryani warrior save perhaps the Avatar of the Bloody-Handed God. But where the living statue of Khaela Mensha Khaine was a creature of fire, iron and blood, the Yncarne manifested a shuddering chill that was both invigorating and shocking, like a deluge of ice water.In the revenant's wake came Yvraine and the Visarch, leading the Reborn to gather beneath crystal stairways. The crested helms of the Ulthwé Seers turned to look down at the newcomers with the unwavering gaze of raptors.There was an electrifying tension, a sense of history in the making. To the relief of all those nearby, the Yncarne drifted from the dome's heart and circulated around the periphery, staring at each of the crystal Seers in turn as if hunting for something.It was Yvraine who spoke first, formally thanking the Seers of Craftworld Ulthwé for their aid. To cross the galaxy in a matter of solar hours was a feat worthy of the Aeldari at the apex of their power. It was a status they could achieve once more, now that Ynnead had shown them the Seventh Way, the path between darkness and light.First, though, they had to ensure the physical conduits of the god of the dead were brought together. The Croneswords, when united, could act as a focal point for Ynnead's ascension, thereby restoring the broken cycle of life and death.The Visarch claimed that two of these blades were buried in the heart of the Aeldari's former empire. They were somewhere upon the Crone World known as Belial IV, caught between realspace and the Warp in the Eye of Terror. With Ulthwé having kept vigil over that vast tempest for so long, they were the logical choice of allies.Eldrad Ulthran nodded quietly in satisfaction as the Openers of the Seventh Way made their case."You ask the impossible," sneered Yemshon Il'foire of the Seer Council, shaking his head before putting on his Ghosthelm. "Pray be still, Daughter of Shades, and keep your people in silence. Your presence is desired, of course, but we have matters of the past to attend to before we consider the future.""There is no matter of more import than this," said Eldrad Ulthran, his tone grave. "I have foreseen it.""You have foreseen much," answered one of his peers, Aralie Coppermane, donning her own helm with ceremonial formality. "And yet ultimately, it seems you are blind.""I see further than all others, and act accordingly," said Eldrad indignantly, "which is why our kindred now stand here, on the threshold of a lasting victory over She Who Thirsts.""An impressive claim," said Yemshon, inclining his helmed head. "But a victory at what cost? The destruction of Craftworld Biel-Tan? The loss of thousands of Eldar ancestors? The dissolution of harmony itself?""There will always be those whose vision is clouded by fear," said Eldrad. "Now we proceed. Muster the Black Guardians.""No," said Aralie. The word resounded through the Dome of Crystal Seers like a dropped tombstone."Eldrad Ulthran," said Hijeroc the Blind from the crystal stairs opposite, "We, the Seer Council of Ulthanesh Shelwé, accuse you of misappropriation of our mutual destiny. In conjunction with the Midnight Sorrow, who exist outside our cultural jurisdiction, you engaged in the theft of the crystal seers."At this, Hijeroc motioned towards a stairway step where the lack of a fossilised Farseer was like a missing tile in a sacred mosaic. "After taking the remains of these long-serving heroes, you formed a hyperspatial link with the crystal sands of Coheria, thereby endangering every departed Eldar soul in every Craftworld.""The death blow to Slaanesh was levelled, and near dealt," protested Eldrad. "Were it not for the intervention of the crass warriors of Humanity...""And yet they did intervene, and your ritual fell apart like Khaine's castle of bone," said Yemshon, "risking billions of souls, and all but handing She Who Thirsts the chance to consume every Craftworlder who has died since the Fall.""In seeking to keep the Rhana Dandra at bay," said Hijeroc the Blind, "you may well have hastened its onset.""Your behaviour is intolerable," said Aralie. "It is not for you to decide the fate of our race by yourself, nor to dabble in the affairs of gods. You are no god, Eldrad Ulthran. You are barely even an Eldar, for you should have joined the ranks of your crystal brethren long ago. Your time is long past. It is the will of the Seer Council that you be exiled to the void."At this, Eldrad stumbled as if he had been struck."Act once more on the behalf of the Eldar race," said Yemshon, "and you will be put to death."The judgement of the Seer Council saw Eldrad slump to the ﬂoor, his grandeur evaporated in the heat of their ire. Every one of his ten thousand Terran years and more weighed heavy upon him, and his bones -- already half-crystal -- felt like jagged knives within his sparse frame.To have his inﬂuence over the fate of his people eradicated was worse than death to the ancient Farseer, for he had striven for nothing else since the Fall.Yvraine spoke eloquently in Eldrad's defence, only to find herself verbally attacked in turn. Who was she to demand the Seer Council lend her aid, and to request they follow her lead into the stronghold of the Great Enemy? By her direct action, Ulthwé's martial ally, the ancient and proud Craftworld Biel-Tan, had been reduced to a skeletal shadow upon the brink of extinction.What was to prevent the same fate from happening to Ulthwé? Was it not enough that they stood sentinel over the Eye of Terror, thwarting the Chaos-tainted armies that emerged from within it and sending their citizen soldiers against the worst terrors in the universe?Many of Yvraine's Biel-Tani followers reacted strongly to the hostility of Ulthwé's seers. They held forth with great passion, saying that though their Craftworld had indeed suffered after the apotheosis of Yncarne -- and though they could never truly forgive her -- they truly believed the damage could be healed. More importantly, there was a greater battle being fought, worth more than life itself.With a way to escape Slaanesh's curse, there was a slim chance that Biel-Tan might succeed in its quest to restore the former glory of the Aeldari. It was a crusade once seen as futile by many of the Biel-Tani present, but admitted to by none amongst them, for to do so was unthinkable stigma within their militant culture.Now there was a real hope of success. Their argument was persuasive, but many elder Seers remained unconvinced. When asked by the Ulthwé Farseers if they spoke on behalf of their Craftworld, or as a rogue splinter faction, the Biel-Tani Reborn had no answer. That in itself was telling enough.On and on the debate raged, the usual allusions to well-trodden Eldar myths and social mores giving way to veiled insults and outright displays of anger. The Ulthwé Seer Council believed that Eldrad, Yvraine and their fellow revolutionaries represented the worst of all disruptive inﬂuences.Though they had reknitted the skein of possible futures, they had done so at so great a cost, and in so reckless a manner, they could not be trusted.It was during this scathing assessment that Yemshon Il'foire suddenly paused mid-rhetoric, the heat of his anger still radiating as he glanced sharply at his fellow elders. A psychic impulse passed through the ranks of the Seer Council in that moment, the urgency of the missive bringing the debate to a pause.Word had arrived of yet more visitors to Ulthwé; via the great Webway gate at the world-ship's rear, a delegation from another craftworld had arrived. A diplomatic corps was already inbound, making for the Dome of Crystal Seers with all haste.When the tall-helmed warriors made their way into the dome and approached the impromptu war council that raged there, a smile came once more to Eldrad Ulthran's features. These mysterious warriors were clad in the colours of the fabled Craftworld Altansar.Within craftworld society, the Eldar of Altansar have long dwelt in the twilight of mistrust. Much speculation surrounds them. They speak only in whispers, and never remove their helmets, no matter the situation.During the calamitous times of the Fall, Altansar was on the periphery of the Eye of Terror, the cosmic wound resulting from Slaanesh's birth. At first, the populace believed themselves safe, but the gravitic pull of that immense Warp Storm gradually drew the craftworld and its attendant voidships into its reaches over the course of five hundred Terran years.The only Eldar to escape Altansar's doom was the Phoenix Lord Maugan Ra, first of the Dark Reapers. Towards the end of the 41st Millennium of the Imperial Calendar, that legendary warrior sought his Craftworld in the depths of the Eye.After a gruelling series of trials he managed to locate Altansar and guide it through the insanity of that aetheric tempest. It re-emerged through the Cadian Gate, bringing the Altansari into the material dimension once more after their impossibly long incarceration.Since that day, the Altansar Eldar have used the symbol of the Broken Chain to represent their craftworld. Set free from their eternal bondage, they have fought tirelessly against the forces of She Who Thirsts.Yet despite their proven loyalty to the Eldar cause, the matter of how the Altansari survived their millennial imprisonment in the dark heart of Chaos has proved persistent.The Altansari are unwelcome on many craftworlds, even forbidden, amid fears they are not as closely aligned to Asuryani culture as they claim and secretly serve Slaanesh, despite the evidence to the contrary.The question is asked time and again -- have they not been tainted by their ordeal, changed by the Ruinous Powers that roam the Eye at will?Usually such questions are put aside, but with the appearance of an Altansar delegation at this critical time upon Ulthwé, they arose in greater measure than ever before.A furor broke out almost immediately. To add fuel to the fires of controversy, the Altansari were moving to side with Yvraine.It was the Warlock Guentilian Onyxblade who stepped forward to represent Altansar. Her low whisper was unheard at first amongst the raised voices of the Ulthwé Seers, but when she reached up and unclasped her helm with a dual puff of escaping air, the dome's interior fell silent once more.Only the Yncarne could be heard, its unnerving hiss turning from the sibilance of a questing serpent to something like a sigh of relief.Tall even for an Eldar, Guentilian was a striking sight. Her skin was so pale and waxen it was as if she had died long ago. Many of those gathered could not shake the notion they were looking upon a well-preserved corpse.The Warlock held her long black Witchblade as if it were a rod of office, proof that though she was one of a forgotten kindred, she still walked the Asuryani Path. At her side was one of the rare feline creatures known as gyrinxes, those psychic familiars that bolstered the mental and spiritual power of those they took as masters.The dome's atmosphere grew thick as the Warlock climbed atop a nearby spiral of crystal stairs to speak."Autarch Orensae extended you welcome after all, then," said Yemshon, nodding in greeting. "The gates of Asuryan's halls open, and cleanse those who enter.""There are those who call Ulthwé damned," interjected Zuar'lias the Wise, addressing his fellow council member, "purely for our proximity to the Eye. We would be the worst kinds of hypocrites if we were to refuse those of Altansar for the same reasons.""And we thank you for it," said Guentilian. Disturbingly, her soft whisper was echoed by every one of her kindred."You came to speak in defence of Eldrad Ulthran and the Ynnari," said Yemshon. "Have you a vested interest in this matter?""We must return to the Eye," said the Altansar Warlock, her gyrinx prowling around her legs. "The blade that the Daughter of Shades speaks of must be reclaimed from our enemies, if our race is to transcend. I know in which city it lies. We failed once, and only escaped She Who Thirsts thanks to the shroud Ynnead cast over us. We cannot fail again." At her words, many of the Altansari shifted uncomfortably, looking through the translucent dome walls to the Eye of Terror's purple bruise amongst the stars."I cannot ask my people to return to the Eye," said Guentilian, "but neither can I stand idle. So I give my soul to Yvraine, and to Ynnead himself." Raising her sword, she slashed her own throat wide open. Black blood spurted outward as she gasped her last.Yvraine darted forward, grabbing Guentilian's body. The Ynnari priestess seemed to inhale deeply even as the Warlock's body slumped, lifeless and pale. A moment later the gyrinx, purring in recognition, rubbed itself against Yvraine's legs."And so we must act," said Yvraine, staring unfocussed into the middle distance. "We must leave now to retrieve the Croneswords of Belial IV, lest the handmaidens of Slaanesh reach it first.""Surely the risk of snuffing out this ﬂicker of hope is too great," replied Yemshon. He twitched a finger, and a trio of Ulthwé Warlocks drew their own Witchblades. "We cannot allow you to take the fate of so many into your hands. The wise do not pin their hopes upon a life unborn. Would this journey not be better made by the warriors of Craftworld Il-Kaithe? They profess to know the Crone Worlds better than any other.""None know the Eye as well as the Altansari," said Yvraine. "They have navigated its tides for thousands of cycles, avoiding the claws of the daemon with each new day. Guentilian's sacrifice will not be in vain." There were whispers of assent from the Altansari behind her, building to a hissing chorus."No," said Yemshon. He raised his arms, and ethereal winds raced around the dome, knocking several of the Altansari Eldar from their feet. "You and your followers will stay until the Seer Councils decide your fate." The psychic hurricane blew harder still, and the craftworld erupted into utter bedlam.Courtly negotiations turned to veiled threats, then to open hostility as the Ulthwé psykers threw up barriers of psychic force and sent strength-sapping curses into the ranks of the Ynnari.The Visarch fought through the psychic tempest, his blade raised as he made for Yemshon. The Yncarne loomed from the shadows, a storm of glittering spirits whirling around it as it bore down on the chanting Seers.Then a clarion shout rang out. The Harlequins of the Masque of the Midnight Sorrow stepped out one by one from behind the darkest of the crystal statues, each striking a pose as if parrying a blow.With them was an elderly Farseer clad in a simple black robe. The Seer Council looked on in wonder; the newcomer was Kysaduras the Anchorite, wisest of all Ulthwé's visionaries. He had emerged from his self-imposed imprisonment to speak to his people.The psychic hurricane that raged around the dome ebbed away, becalmed in an instant as Kysaduras raised his staff above his head. He spoke in a croaking baritone, a voice that had clearly not been used for solar decades, but yet carried immense weight.They stood at the crux point of fate, he said. Whether the Seers wished it so or not, the Ynnari had to leave -- or else another craftworld would die, never to be reborn.As one, the Seer Council turned away. The Ynnari -- their ranks now bolstered not only by the Biel-Tani, but also by a few bold Altansari, the Harlequins of the Midnight Sorrow, and a swathe of Ulthwé sympathisers -- made for the dome's primary gates.With them went the Yncarne, the ground crackling with hoarfrost at its passage. Eldrad Ulthran followed the creature, bent under the weight of his peers' censure. Kysaduras, using his staff as a support, went with him.Before the Craftworld's diurnal cycle ended, the Ynnari had left for the Eye of Terror. They embarked upon a journey of supreme peril, for their journey was to Slaanesh's own birthplace. Not one of them looked back.