Uslan, the Uninvited Guest

As the legendary ranger questioned him, the Aeldari shrouded in a halo slowly stepped forward.

His long hair was tied in a loose topknot, and a dark green crystal was embedded in his brow. His deep gaze remained fixed on Illic Nightspear.

Eldrad Ulthran held his legendary weapon, the Staff of Asurmen, in his left hand. It was a powerful weapon that allowed its wielder to better channel godlike psychic power.

Illic instinctively shifted the angle of his lance, though he did not point it directly at the uninvited guest.

Indeed, in the eyes of these Aeldari from Craftworld Alaitoc, Ulthran’s sudden appearance made him an uninvited guest. Though he was a highly respected Farseer, his long record of misdeeds forced them to remain wary.

Farseer Ulthran often took Aeldari from other craftworlds for reasons no one could fathom, all to fulfill his grand plans. This included, but was not limited to, precious Aeldari twins or the crystals left behind after other Farseers died.

Every craftworld had its own Farseers. These elders who studied the Path of the Seer could save the lives of countless Aeldari by foreseeing the future.

The Aeldari, now barely clinging to survival, could no longer withstand any major upheaval. Thus, Farseers were the most important members of every craftworld. They saw into the future, avoided misfortune, and helped the Aeldari preserve their civilization.

The crystals left behind by dead Farseers were likewise precious relics, treasures every craftworld had to guard carefully. This infamous Farseer Ulthran often "stole" other seers’ crystals, openly provoking every craftworld.

Yet because of his special status, they could only keep a close watch on their own seers’ relics and prevent this thief from getting his hands on them.

Ulthran held his staff in his left hand and cradled a slender blue-silver Aeldari helmet in his right. He wore a pale purple robe and numerous ornaments engraved with special symbols.

He did not seem surprised by the Aeldari’s reactions. Instead, he casually found a seat and sat down, speaking with Illic as though they were simply chatting.

"Do not be nervous, everyone. I mean you no harm."

But no one dared believe the old Farseer’s assurance. They remained on guard.

"I already know why you have come, Ranger. You intend to answer the primitive Aeldari of Pandora’s call for aid and help them fight off their enemies, do you not?"

Nightspear slowly lowered his lance. He stepped forward slightly and sat beside the Farseer.

"Precisely. The primitive Aeldari of Pandora have a good relationship with us. These cousins of ours have lived in seclusion there for generations, relying on their simple, peaceful lives to resist the greed of She Who Thirsts."

"Not long ago, I visited that beautiful world and helped them destroy a human warship. But the humans still came. They brought conquest and destruction."

Ulthran lightly tapped the wraithbone table with his left index finger. The translucent pale table kept flashing with faint light beneath his touch.

"I know all this. More than that, I know the primitive Aeldari have already failed. Their resistance crumbled before the humans."

The Farseer’s words startled every Aeldari present. What did he mean, they had already been utterly defeated?

Could their distant cousins on Pandora already have died beneath humanity’s butcher’s blades? Those damned monkeys!

Ulthran shook his head slightly, clearly having seen through their thoughts.

"No, they have not all been destroyed. But they are not far from it. Those primitive Aeldari mobilized all their dragon riders and, with the aid of the World Spirit, drove every great beast on the planet into battle."

Nightspear knew what those primitive Aeldari were capable of. When they harnessed the World Spirit, all of Pandora became a living planet fighting against its invaders. Yet this time, they had been utterly defeated by humanity. That meant their enemy was extremely powerful.

He could not help raising the scale of the support operation by several levels in his mind, but another doubt arose. Had this ever-busy Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwé truly crossed time and space merely for this matter?

Farseers of Ulthran’s stature did everything to preserve Aeldari civilization and heritage. At all times, they peered into the future, gathering fragments from the tangled web of fate.

From what Nightspear knew of him, anything capable of bringing Ulthran here in person had to be a major matter.

The Farseer looked at Nightspear with satisfaction. He knew the clever ranger had deduced more details from this.

Since that was the case, there was no need for further pointless words.

"I came specifically to tell you this: stop your foolish course of action. Turn around now, immediately, and return to Craftworld Alaitoc. You and I will pretend none of this ever happened."

"If you insist on going to Pandora, then I have already seen the thread of your fate approaching its end. Nothing but death awaits you—utter, complete death."

Before Illic could respond, a Striking Scorpion Aspect Warrior beside him could no longer remain still. He stepped forward and harshly rebuked Ulthran’s absurd words.

"Ulthran!"

"Do you think we will be defeated by a group of savage, ignorant humans? Those damned monkeys may have developed quickly, I admit that, but we are warriors of Craftworld Alaitoc, not those weak, insular primitive Aeldari."

"How dare you ask us to flee and avoid battle before we have even seen the enemy?"

Striking Scorpions had exceedingly fiery tempers. They excelled at close-quarters combat and infiltration warfare, and they were fanatical lovers of battle.

They understood that Ulthran’s warning was not baseless. Farseers who practiced the Path of the Seer could glimpse futures ordinary people could never know. If Ulthran said they would die at humanity’s hands after reaching Pandora, that outcome was very likely.

But so what? To Aspect Warriors who practiced the Path of the Warrior, their entire beings had been devoted to that path. They had long since sunk deeply into it, and such cowardly avoidance of battle was undoubtedly a grave denial of their path.

And to deny their path was, for Aspect Warriors who had devoted themselves wholly to it, to deny everything.

"Silence! Mortley, do not disrespect the Farseer." The ranger rebuked the Striking Scorpion Aspect Warrior, then turned to stare at Ulthran and continued, "Then in your prophecy, are we certain to die? The primitive Aeldari of Pandora once swore that our fortunes would rise and fall together. We are an inseparable whole."

Ulthran sighed. In his visions, he had seen the choice these warriors of Craftworld Alaitoc would make. When he tried to change that choice, he discovered that he could not.

"Prophecy is not certainty, Illic. If you insist on going to Pandora, then in my vision, you have a fifty percent chance of dying and a fifty percent chance of surviving."

"I must tell you that even I cannot clearly see Pandora’s current situation. For certain unspeakable reasons, I cannot see exactly what you will encounter there."

Ulthran tried to use the Aeldari language to describe those unspeakable things more clearly, but the ranger rejected his advice.

"So in your prophecy, you cannot see what exactly has happened on Pandora. Something is interfering with your foresight, so you can only judge life or death through the fates of certain people?"

The Farseer nodded. That was exactly what he meant.

The ranger gripped his lance, his attitude resolute. "If you had clearly foreseen the specific situation, if we were certain to die, then I would lead this fleet back the way we came."

"But all you have seen are possibilities. If we go, we may live, or we may die. In that case, I believe I must take this risk to save our kin."

Ulthran saw Nightspear’s resolve. He merely nodded and moved aside.

"Then continue onward. I will do everything I can to guide you toward the half of possibility in which you survive."