The face of the Eldar speaking these words betrayed a slight sense of amused superiority, as it accepted as fact the pretense that the barbarous creatures before him were having difficulty understanding. But beneath that mask was a deeper sense of wondering; the Eldar could not help but look long at the strange eyes of these men; they looked like coals of Immaterium set amidst mortal flesh. Knowing the growing danger that faced his people, the Eldar felt he had no choice but to accept the Marines as allies against the struggle that was to come, and decided to delve more deeply into their primitive minds what it was they had put themselves into.
"H'man, I am...my name, that is, is "Desagulier." And this, my friend, is Istaurash, which the tongues of your race would lash out as "The Silent Planet" in translation. In many ways, this was once a planet, but it is no longer such. However, we plan to divorce and cleanse it of its past, so that once again our race knows firsthand what our heritage once was, before the Change...the Fall...before your kind took up and overcame our glory in those days so long ago."
"We have given siege, should it be ours to claim? Tell us our Fate, Eldar." Rhadamanthys' voice stood on the precipice of belief and denial, of honeyed venom and stark acceptance. Desagulier's mind was picqued by the Commander's response, which showed neither rage nor incomprehension, yet gave no concrete sign of where he and his race stood before the Farseer's statements. His mind cast a shadow upon the streams of time, and like an experienced hunter he ensnared the path needed to ensure that the h'mans understood fully the Silent Planet, and its import.
"Rhadamanthys, perhaps you know not of our race's past, but your Inquisitor did. He knew of our Great Fall, and the loss of our Maiden Worlds."
"Slaanesh. Chaos. I know, I under...stand."
"You are allowed to believe so h'man, but in truth you are still frozen upon the precipice of knowledge and ignorance.
"Rhadamanthys, the Silent Planet Istaurash is one of our Maiden Worlds. We have abducted it from what you call the Eye of Terror, the Womb of Chaos. We have returned it to realspace, so that the Eldar of now and the future shall look with their own eyes upon a world that helped give birth to our ancient kin, and us as well.
"It is hard to read your mind, h'man, and I cannot see how hardened your heart is against this truth. But whatever it may stand, you must know that our victory is not yet complete. At the northernmost stretches of Istaurash lies its largest mountain. It is known to us as Warnesheth, which in your struggling tongue is called "Cold Mountain."
"Within Cold Mountain is a lair of beasts beyond all that have been encountered. They are remnants of what your kin call Hive Behemoth, a sliver of the Great Devourer cast adrift as your kin began to lay waste to the Tyranid armies of those times.
"But they have been made Un-Tyranic by the corruption of Warpspace, and the wicked energies of Slaanesh, *our* Devourer, and his eternal kin, the Dark Gods of Chaos.
"If we are to succeed in eradicating the Fallen Devourer, as it is now the Consumer of both of our kind, then we most form an alliance. We alone have fought, and failed, to tame Cold Mountain. Alone, the h'mans of your army would face a similar fate. Only together do we stave annihilation and eradicate the Great Darkness of Warnesheth. Do you allow such a possibility, or doom us both to the insatiable hunger of the Fallen Devourer and its countless servants?"
Rhadamanthys stared at the Farseer and its kin as he echoed the Eldar's arguments in his head. He did not know of Tyranids ever becoming corrupt at the fell hands of Chaos, but he did not question the Warp's ability to do so. Still, it was the singular point of the mission where he longed for Inquisitor Theokkos' prescence. As much as the Inquisitor was to be distrusted, he still knew about such alien biologies and occurrences.
In the end, Rhadamanthys decided to support the Eldar of Istaurash, the Silent Planet. He did not say so, but Desagulier knew as much from the passionless eyes of the Commander, the formless depths of which gave forth the unspoken affirmation of the two completely alien armies combining against what the Farseer had deemed the "Fallen Devourer."
Rhadamanthys did not hesitate in believing a great horror was about to unfold; he prayed to the Emperor that the Desolation Templars were allowed to eliminate as much of the aberrations as possible before their own hunger faded from the realm of Materium, and returned to the all-consuming vastness of the Great Emperor himself.
The din of war would delve them deeper into the Silent Planet, and by the Emperor's Grace they would ascend or descend upon the shedding of a million mortal wounds.
In a million instances holes burned through the heavenly roof that separates the Realm of Materium from the Realm of Immaterium, and the Sea of Chaos poured through towards the density of material sensed by the onrushing souls, who dimly knew it as the Eternal Planet, Istaurekk.
A great plane of energy bisected an equal plane of physicality, and in this melding awoke the Fallen Devourer.
As a great dragon wakes from archaic sleep, so to did the Fallen Devourer shift and stir as its Great Hunger flooded to every cell of its body.
It was within its tomb, the Cold Mountain, and as sentience flooded into its vast mind, so to did gnawing hunger awaken innumerable eyes in the chilled darkness.
Far off the Fleshlings advanced, and the Hive Mind penetrated the thick rock of Cold Mountain with murderous thoughts of blood and flesh.
Chitin unfurled, and scythe-like claws gained their edge. Hunger loomed within their eyes, and screamed with their stomachs.
The Fleshlings began their descent. All hope would be lost.
