 The Ildari are not the oldest species in the galaxy, far from it. Their empire was young when the existences of others were already beyond ancient, but they do have one attribute I must, if only under duress, grant to them. They keep better records than other species of those eras. Even if they are rendered as more myth than proper sound chronicle, even if they may be twisted by that race's perfidious grammar forms, even still, that they may be next to impossible to get verifiable renditions or copies of, they stand as, Throne help me, the best information one may yet obtain about large swathes of the generally occluded gulfs that form the past. One should, however, not belabor under the assumption that these are a united people. As humanity is under the guiding light of the emperor, beloved by all. The Asur Yanni, the Drukhari, the Exodites, the Inari, the Harlequins, they all sport and feud amongst each other, each in possession of differing visions of quite how to, impossibly, one may add, lead their race to something akin to salvation or redemption. Consequently, each has walked utterly different paths. There are differences in all aspects, shaping their cultures accordingly. The craft-worlders seek to mould their lives through ceaseless discipline, while their dark kin of the dark city glut themselves on the pain of others with utter abandon. The Exodites remove themselves entirely, sequestering themselves on hermitage planets and believing that communing with nature will bring them some scant comfort. Well, the Inari are the opposite, active and broad across the galaxy in a full quest to bring about the apotheosis of a new god. Finally, the Harlequins, those craven minstrels, ply whatever damnable thing passes for motive amongst their senseless breed. Nothing passes for anything approximating a centralized authority, or even an agenda amongst the Eldari. And as such, what scraps of their history one has managed to obtain must be seen through that lens. They are whispers, passed through murmurs, presented as theatre. They are fable, parable, and folktale, for in their poetic nonsense, so much of historical clarity is just lost when it should be demanded. The species disregards the veracity of the properly penned Chronicle for the whimsie of myth, blurring the line between hard reality and senseless fantasy. Let my colleagues in the Ordo Xenos and Major Izanobiologists can even begin to stomach dedicating their lives to the transliteration of such material is utterly beyond me. But in doing so, they provide those of us who simply cannot stand to see such Xenos filth defile our sacred cogitators, with, often, it must be said, invaluable insight into the hearts and minds of our enemies and more besides. For in these twisted works are nestled kernels of truth, nuggets that may yet vest us with a greater understanding of a greater and more terrible foe that even now rises from the sands of a thousand thousand worlds. Now then, that this is a record of several significant Eldari mythic tracts pertaining specifically to the rise of that grim spectre of death unstoppable. The Necrons. The Eldari and the Necrons have been enemies for it is believed longer than humanity has been sentient if such a span of time can even be believed. Permanent to this is my record upon the so-called war in heaven, wherein the Necrons brought fire and ruin to the creators of the Eldari, the nebulously titled Old Ones. Study such a record, if you please, for a rudimentary knowledge of the conflict and the enmity between these two races is vital to gaining thorough understanding of what follows. Suffice it to say, it is widely believed by those of us with access to secret knowledges within the Imperium of Man that the Eldari were a race specifically engineered by the Old Ones to be weapon sentients, to fight the Necrons in their stead as their dwindling numbers and slow amphibian biological cycles could not cope with the death that the Necrons and their masters, the Catan, were causing. Utilizing their immense genocraft to fashion living weapons from the primitive races of the galaxy, of lifting previously barbarian civilizations so that they may stave off their seemingly inevitable fall. The Old Ones was likely uplifted other species, such as the Greenskins or the Jokero, but it was to the Eldari that they gifted their blessings or curses of Saikana, the power to wield the energy of the Imaterium here in real space. The warp was anathema to the Catan, their immense power useless in the face of this nothing energy, the forces of uncreation itself, and it was the hope of the Old Ones and their Eldari scions that this could turn the tide of the war. As with all things concerning the utilization of the warp, however, it would be a poisoned chalice indeed. The apocalyptic destruction taking place within the materium was now becoming reflected within the warp as the tides of no space raged and roiled as the Eldari tore the Veil Asunder to use its energies as weapons. The intelligences of the warp spawned and divided and thirsted in this cacophony of emotion, moving more and more predatory as they glutted themselves upon the backwash of a catastrophe in reality. Incursions from these creatures, the hated enslavers, brought about the final death now of the Old Ones. As their creations were possessed and torn asunder by wicked extra-dimensional things, their great webway was breached in a thousand places by lunatic hordes and their final fortresses were assailed by the warp immune necrons. The victors in this calamitous conflict, the necrons saw the chattel races of the galaxy being attacked on all fronts by enslaver hordes, and resolved to enter stasis tombs galaxy-wide so that they may rest and wait for the point when their infinite empire could ascend. All this is drawn, as coherently as one may, from scattered histories as thus far translated by the Adeptus Mechanicus and Ordo Xenos. What is especially interesting to those of us who wish to pry further is where several Eldari mythic parables lie within the established flow of history. The actual span of the war in heaven is impossible to ascertain, taking place as it did some estimated 60 million years ago, but if it is to be believed that during this time the Eldari were first elevated to their status as a star-faring race by the Old Ones, the question remains as to what form they took beforehand. If they had simply been primitives on whatever lonely rock sufficed for a homeworld, it would be possible that they possessed rudimentary mythology before the coming of the Old Ones. If not, well, that is interesting indeed. If certain sequestered Mechanicus biologis autopsy reports are to be believed, the hand of deliberate craftsmanship is placed upon the Eldari genome and physiology. A possible avian ancestor has been hypothesized, but as they possessed a roughly, albeit hideous, humanoid form, it is possible that they were base animalia, sculpted like clay in the hands of their progenitors to become the sentient race we all know and loathe to this day. Where this pertains to this record is that if this latter scenario is the case, the Eldari gods, their mythology, all of that would have to be created in the crucible of the war of heaven itself. Common understanding states that the race is born of two gods, Kurnos, the hunter god, and Isha, the harvest goddess. A fairly standard origin myth for any species that was born out of a hunter-gatherer to agrarian process of technological advancement. These two gods begat two brothers, Eldanesh and Ulthanesh, who led the species through early victories. Their pantheon, as any pantheistic society has wanted to do, birthed further figures to represent cardinal aspects of society and culture. Azurion, the phoenix king, Cain, the god of murder, Vol, the smith god, Moraiheg, the sea or crone, Lilith, maiden of dreams, and Kegarach, the trickster. The Eldari frequently refer to these gods as entities and personages known to them, as opposed to the more conceptual deities of sundry other species. Imperial historians tend to follow this presumption, and while the reality, so to speak, of the Eldari pantheon will likely never be verified, it is not that much of a stretch to imagine that so psychic a race could create entities within the warp that serve functionally as what we understand as gods. Whether or not these are pure warp entities, or some sort of ascended early Eldari, incarnated in both material and immaterial, is a question beyond the brief of this particular record, and likely one the Eldari themselves consider moot, given how their mythology tends to treat these gods. The following is one of the more modern Eldari tracts pertaining to the war of heaven, but provides a good introduction and features several of their pantheon. My gratitude must be extended to inquisitorial operative Ramaline Mung for sullying himself with the Eldari tongue, sparing my own mind from having to comprehend such lunacy as accusative tenses and auto-reflective adverbs. I've included my own annotations here, for the sake of common understanding. There was a time when a Eldari were not driven by fear and did not live their lives in mortal apprehension of the dark fate that awaited them upon death. A warrior could meet his foe man without thought for his mortal shell. His soul would live on, reborn as a phoenix from the flame. This form of opening statement is common in post-fall Eldari poetic tracts, to be mourn their fallen race and curse the doom that awaits them should their souls fall into the clutches of the primordial annihilator to use their term. In that manner, the Eldari joined their gods to wage war against the Yngir, the immortal star spawned that plagued the universe with their eternal thirst and undying warriors. Their minions, the silvered host, parted like a sea before Cain's wrath, and his followers, the most battle-hardened of all, blazed a flaming path across the galaxy. Yngir is the Eldari word for Katan, the once-star-god masters of the Nacron race. Their mention occurs far more commonly in these myths than there at the time servants, referred to by the oblique silvered host line in this passage. One must presume that this is simply down to the Eldari obsession with those entities that may sup upon the soul. Ulthanesh and Eldanesh, noble kings of their houses, fought at Cain's side. Lathralag, the swift, and Jerelia, the thrice-blessed, led their peoples, and none could stand before them. Then came Kaelis Ra, the deathbringer. Its rampage stained the stars with blood, and none could stand against it, for it wielded the power of death itself. Populations fell before its scythe, its very gaze slew even the greatest of Eldari heroes. Those that died lost everything, even their souls. Kaelis Ra, by Mung's notes, is a translation redolent of situational context, but broadly speaking can be summarized thusly. Kaelis is the notion of death, a concept, rather than the state, with a far more sinister overtone than simply, shall we say, ceasing to exist. It is death as destruction, obliteration with a deeply ill intent. Ra is somewhat less clear, but nominally can be considered a spirit, but specifically one that we would call a phantom or spectre. The Eldari have multiple noun forms for the soul or essence divorced from the body, but this particular word is considered foul. But the gods of the Eldari had strengths other than force of arms. The greatest among the soul dancers had begun to convince the Ginger to turn their hunger inward, to consume their brethren in unholy feasts of star-flesh. Kaelis Ra took its blade to its kin, butchering them without mercy, as it had the sons of Isha. The greatest of the soul dancers is an indirect manner of referring to the god Kegorak, or at least it is assumed so. As we have discussed previously, the Eldari often refer to their deities in overly familiar terms. Hence, Kegorak, patron god of the Harlequins, is not referred to as their god, but merely the greatest amongst them. It would appear that the trickster god convinced the Katan to devour each other, a period in their history that has been alluded to in other texts. Whilst the Deathbringer sought ever darker ways to slake its unquenchable thirst, Kain was not idle. He had struck a bargain with Vaal the Smith god in exchange for Kurnos and Isha's release from Kain's dungeons. Vaal would forge 100 swords for Kain in his war against the Ginger. Thus was born the Swords of Vaal, the Blade Wraiths. Kain is a bellicose figure within the Eldari legend, as hateful as he is apparently necessary, and his feuding with his fellow gods is not uncommon. It should also be noted that this is a very different interpretation to the alternative origin of the Swords of Vaal, which, depending on the myth, were also created as a bargain from Vaal to free the gods of Isha and Kurnos, whom Kain had imprisoned and wickedly tortured. The similar overtones should be noted, but this is a very different interpretation. Kain led his people to war once more, his rage incandescent, the remnants of his army aflame with the heat of vengeance. A hundred Eldari, each armed with a blade wraith, faced a horde of silvered necronteer, so vast the horizon glittered with metal bodies in every direction, yet they knew no dread. The Eldari fought in a great circle, the Swords of Vaal flashing, and the necronteer could not penetrate their defense. The soul might, contained within the swords, invigorated their wielders, and every blow smashed apart an unholy foe. Kain was unstoppable, and his warriors fought with the knowledge that their god was pleased. It is likely that the phrase soul might here pertains to some form of psychic phenomena, as we know the Eldari's edge against their necronphos was held thanks to their foul psikana. This passage reinforces that. The battle lasted seven days and seven nights before the Eldari began to fall. The yinger's servants had found a weak spot in the circle. Lathrelag the swift was tiring, his face pale, his imperfect sword dull and blunt. The ring of warriors buckled and broke, and the ground shook as Kain bellowed his anger. Vaal had cheated him. One of the swords was lifeless. From the ground beneath them burst Kaelas Ra, the Nightbringer, and the Eldari fell back for they knew their doom was at hand. With a gesture, Kaelas Ra slew all those near it. With a glance, it condemned the souls of great warriors to an eternity of dust. With a great roar, Kain levelled his spear and charged. Scythe and spear clashed over a mound of corpses in a struggle that tore the skies asunder. Kain's speed and skill was breathtaking, but the Nightbringer was a being of shadow, and the spear of Kain could not find its mark. Kaelas Ra let its foe exhaust his rage with the patience of death itself. Without warning, the Nightbringer swung mightily with his scythe, aiming for Kain's throat. But Kain had heeded the counsel of the laugh and godwell. As the Nightbringer's form became solid to deliver its blow, Kain lunged the tip of his spear driving clean through the Yinger's chest. Kaelas Ra burst apart in an explosion of silvered shards that nearly cleft Kain into as the Yinger's essence tore free from his physical form. The silvered warriors around him fell to the earth and its impact spread ever outwards, returning to the ground from whence they came. Soon, only Kain remained, howling his victory. But victory came at a price. Shards of the Yinger's flesh, driven deep into Kain's body by the catatlysmic demise of his foe, melted in the fires of the war god's wrath. The silvered poison flowed into his bloodstream, forever tainting his physical incarnation with the aspect of the Reaper. Kaelas Ra cannot truly die, for it is death incarnate, raging in its defeat, its quintessence howled throughout space, entering every one of the Eildari race and cursing them with the terror of the grave. Thus it was, the seed of the Eildari downfall was sown, and ultimately, the way of reincarnation was closed to them forever. It would seem that the victory of the Eildari god is a poisoned one. There are some interesting hallmarks to be expanded upon further. The Catan were, students of my records will know, beings of pure energy, the Necronteer placed within bodies of living metal. It is commonly documented that upon shattering this necrodermis shell, the essence of the uncontained Catan is destructively unleashed, but it seems in this case the body of Kain himself was tainted by the Necrontechnology, and the race injected for the first time with a fear of true death, millions of years before the fall, and the rise of the Dark Prince. If one were to take an albeit prosaic interpretation of this, the Eildari's focus on life, excesses, sensations, the hedonism of the mortal experience, is hinted here as being a curse born of the fear of the Nightbringer. If this tract is truly suggesting that this creature indirectly spurred the downfall of their species, well, it is possible, but it should be known that the Asuryani craft-worlders oft moralize within these tracts, lashing out at the past that doomed them to the path they now walk. Perhaps in it, they are simply seeking an external figure to blame for their own sins. Regardless, this is one of the most interesting passages that documents the actual participation in the War of Heaven by one of the Eildari pantheon. It is, however, not alone. Further to this, the conversation once included in a previous record upon the provenance of the sinister curiosities of the Blackstone Fortresses casts further the role of the Eildari in the War of Heaven into question. In exchange between a tech priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus, a Lagos, and Lord Inquisitor Horst elucidates upon the Eildari connection to the Fortresses. Per the Lord Inquisitor's account of the Eildari myth, the Fortresses were known as the Talismans of Fall, the Smith God who had previously crafted weaponry for Cain to combat the Necron threat. While a recording of the full conversation may be parsed at your leisure, Horst asserts that the Fortresses were developed specifically to channel the energies of the Immaterium in so devastating a capacity as to overwhelm the Catan they faced. The case of these Talisman Fortresses, a specific target was the being known as the Void Dragon. Incarnations of this entity have begun to be reported across fronts where the Imperium battles the Necron race, and while it is not the first of these Catan incarnations we have encountered, it is amongst the most frightening. Horst's account of these legends bears no conclusion, as it is said that in the aftermath of the Void Dragon consuming the essence of a binary star, it simply ends. No explanation is given for this, although one believes it is likely due to the source material being damaged, flawed, or were it living, expiring during interrogation. Horst does not believe anyone may know the true location of the Void Dragon's greatest shard, but the rapid departure of the tech priest following this revelation is concerning. You see, there have been tremulous whispers, muttered from the mouths of those of my order, or others, who believe that upon Red Mars something slumbers, something ancient beyond reckoning, and powerful beyond mortal ken, something whose presence has warped time and space and history through eldritch influences and unknowable motives, a thing named the Dragon of Mars. I shall withhold further speculation at this point, but the eagerness with which the Mechanicus sought information regarding an Eldari myth of the Catan, and the readiness by which the representative departed once it had ascertained that the Inquisition knew not of any location, they concerned me deeply. But, moving on, it is reportedly from this account that the Imperium, or at least the Ordozinos, first drew upon its theorem that the power of the warp was critical in combating the Catan threat, which at the time of its special study was quite ill understood. Not that it remains any better understood now, per se, but the Imperium has at least been forced to acknowledge that the initial tombworld risings of those centuries past were but an opening act, a prelude to the horror of the true scope that the Necron Menace represents, now that they awaken in dynastic quantities. At first, we presumed them mute slave things. Little more than voiceless automata slaved the will of much greater entities, but oh, we have been sorely mistaken in that capacity. The Catan's nature, as the servant slaves of the Necrons rather than their masters, is illustrated better than ever in a recently uncovered Eldari tract, a boon for all Xenobiologists within the Imperium, for it provides not only the names, but the fates of many of the most infamous Catan tracked by the Ordozinos. So follows the Book of Mournful Knight, the dirge of the stars extinguished with my annotations. Already the Banshee's vengeful keening carried upon the bloodied winds. The Ogir had feasted unto satiation. The fire, still raging high and hot, had burned all that which might sustain it. In their moment of surpassing triumph, the Yinger were vulnerable, for they had given much of themselves to the last cast down of their age-old foes. They did not grasp the depth of loathing that their tainted gifts had conjured. The Ogir is a new term for Imperial Xenolinguists, such as it has been presented here, in the data packet I received, quite untranslated. Frustrating, I know, but I posit that it is simply a thus far unencountered Eldari term for Necrons. The species is oft presented in their lore as being possessed of a great hunger, and even if the harvest of sentient beings, the war of heaven was redolent with, were for the benefit of their then masters, as opposed to the Necrons themselves, the point is clearly semantics, as far as the Eldari are concerned. About them, they saw only slaves, savage and simple beings content to feed the dying fires. They should instead have seen blades, each wrought from a billion pinpricks of starlight, yet no less sharp for their fractured form. They should have seen the doom that they had fashioned from their own cunning cruelty. The Ynger had promised allegiance, then demanded worship. Now, there would no retribution fit to shake the stars from the heavens and cast them blazing from the skies like tears of Isha. The blows fell swift and terrible, as at last, the storm broke. Eldari mythology is known for its prurient sense of justice, that the arc of the universe spins towards vengeance and retribution, something perhaps to do with their experiences 10,000 years ago, one might say. Upon Chimeric Way, they fell upon Azagorod, the Night Bringer, that which the Eldari knew as Calus Ra, fear, incorporeal form who sowed the seeds of Nightmare, whose shadow loomed long in mortal thoughts and entwined eternal within death's embrace. With the Eye of Kathanta, they set the gaze of the celestial many upon Azagorod, and in doing so, they burn away the shadows that coiled around it. Sudden was its sundering, catatlysmic its demise, and the shards of its shattered form fell, glinting into the void. So fell Azagorod, the Night Bringer. The second time in this record alone, the form of the Night Bringer is shattered, although this time, at the hands of its servants, not its enemies. But precisely, the Eye of Kathanta, or the celestial many are, is unknown, although obviously they are a form of Necron weaponry. Species has displayed the ability to manipulate even the movement of the planetary spheres themselves. Perhaps this is some form of weapon utilizing the powers of gravitic alignment? Something for my Mechanicus colleagues to ponder, I should say. Mephet Ran had first come before the Necron tier as emissary, as oath singer, as a fashioner of falsehoods. The deceiver it was, and a thousand echoed whisper names besides, for so woven was falsehood into its fabric that Mephet Ran knew not, where its own truth began, and its lies found their end. Amidst the maze of endless beginnings, did its doom come upon it, for the slighted servants brought to life the singing spheres, and by their song was the yinger wrought apart. So fell Mephet Ran, the deceiver. The deceiver holds a status of great enmity amongst both Necron and Ildari, for it has ever forged its own intricate destiny. It strings both metaphorical and dreadfully real, binding the threads of history to its whims. In aspect, it bears a disturbing similarity to the laughing god of the Harlequins, who are said to possess multiple dance performances displaying their patron deity's victories over this specific hateful entity. It is however noteworthy that the deceiver, this Mephet Ran, does not appear to have been fully sundered. The text is oblique, but there have been reports of shards of this particular catan, abroad across the galaxy, operating seemingly under their own means. This would bear further investigation, alas no sources were extant at the time of recording of this record that could be independently verified. Greatest and most terrible of all the yinger was Magladroth, the font of immortality, the forage of substance, that which was known as the dragon. Yet about Magladroth's neck had hung the talismans of Val, and by the light that spilled from within them had a secret weakness been revealed. Broken too fell the dragon by the hand of the ogir, and the crimson glow of the prison, Sampeternal. Thus lay his work unfinished ever more. So fell Magladroth, the dragon. Here we have the void dragon being referred to very curiously as the most powerful of the catan, a title previously believed to have been held by the Nightbringer. We see again references to the talismans of Val, which this tract confirms what Inquisitor Horse could not. That yes, they were ultimately instrumental in uncovering the weakness of the catan, the necrons would seemingly later exploit. I will however draw your eye to the most deeply concerning aspect of this passage, the dragon's crimson prison. Aftazmar is born her title of the Red Planet. And evermore do I fear I lurk upon the edge of a revelation I am deeply unsure I wish uncovered. Most reviled by the unspeaking lord was Iashudra, that which birthed in the minds of mortals the sickness everlasting, that which walked always three steps behind, which saw through the eyes of all that which was named as Endless Swarm. The sorrow of the void it was that brought Iashudra to the mortal brink and severed its bonds beyond sight. In its breaking were a thousand tides of misery released upon the stars, yet in its casket at last it lay. So fell Iashudra, the Endless Swarm. Iashudra was until recently a catan unknown to the Imperium, and even with this account of its sundering we have no further insight into its nature, aside from suggestions of a seemingly decentralized corporeal presence. The unspeaking lord possessed of his great hatred for this creature is almost certainly a poor translation of Silent King, the title held by the supreme ruler of the Infinite Empire of the Necrons. I will include this in my reply, and lightly some stern words for whichever translator missed so obvious a flaw. The mirth of all cruel things was Nayadrasatha, who was called the Burning One, the immolating Glee, and the breath of the infinite pit. All things were its kindling, for its will was the searing that blacked the strands of aons, and its ravenous touch no thing of the real nor the echoreal might endure. It was the pyre of the labyrinth, the torch of the ziggurats lost, the reaping winds of emberlight. How came that thing unto its end no record speaks, but that a single etching upon a single wall upon a single world shows the quiet lord himself laying the spear unto its molten heart. So fell Nayadrasatha, the Burning One. Humdrum Ildari Dirge, at its worst, this passage contains little of relevance, say for this katan being the target of, again, the Silent King himself. It should be noted that the labyrinth referenced here is likely the webway, as the Ildari have been known to refer to with nouns redolent of maze-like spaces. Once begun, the storm could not be stayed, the sights reaping arch cold could not be halted, the ogirs, last rampage, could not be held at bay. So the thars themselves were wrapped in the velvet veil of the voids last morning, so the yinger, one by one, were laid low, and their poisoned lights extinguished ever more. They fell, and their falling changed all that was real. In their millions the risen slaves fell upon Langdugor, the flare, the lidless eye, and with blades unforged they extinguished all that he was. So was his last curse loosed upon its slayers. They know not what they wrought, but that it was vengeance and yet all pay the price even still. The outsider, Saranoga, had fallen already to the trickster of the laughing god, yet in its madness had it become terrible indeed. None could slay it for its terror was too great to endure. Some tell that the outsider rent itself asunder and was taken in its turn. Others warn that no prison ever trampled it, that it alone of the yinger never fell, and that one day it will return. Calugura, the silent cry, was entombed internally upon the world of the unspeaking. Ygrinaya, Moldor of Worlds, was bound, twisted and broken asunder by its own cosmic powers. Thysachla, the walking blight, the shadow that withers worlds was lured through the inevitable gateway and broken within the void beyond. So ended. That which cannot end. This passage treats us to the various fates of the many Katan the Eildare were aware of, and while some are fundamentally unknown to imperial intelligence there are elements herein that must be parsed out. Landugor, the flayed one, is believed by the Ordo Xenos to be the creature responsible for the existence of the notably deranged necron constructs dubbed, appropriately, flayed ones, known to clad themselves in the skinned remains of their kills. For a species devoid of all aspects of the flesh, they are disturbingly remarkable in their exception, and if this legend is to be believed, the progeny of a form of corruption caused by the destruction of the Katan. This is the second time in Eildare myths that such corruption has been inflicted upon the victor, as a similar fate befell Cain following his defeat of the Nightbringer. The two are possibly connected. It is unknown quite precisely how necron intelligence is even maintained, but if they are truly machine in the way that we would understand them, perhaps some alteration of their code? Perchance it is not so simple, but I shall shell speculation for now. The fate of the outsider remains, Zara Noga. The outsider is frequently referenced in imperial records pertaining to the Katan, but never with any degree of certainty as to its fate. This myth believes it was never sundered as its kin were, that it alone remains the one Katan unbroken, represents a truly horrific possibility. A note appended to this particular archival stack contained a missive, born of the late centuries of M41, recording the movements of the tyranny's high fleet Leviathan. According to Orgares, one splinter fleet altered its course to such an extent that xenobiologists could not account for any action given all possible known parameters of tyrannid behavior that could cause such a change. It's discovered that a spherical object of unknown origins and nature was the cause. At such extreme distances, this object would only be able to register with Orgares fields via reflected light alone, indicating either a great size over 32 million Terran dimensions, or an Albedo range approaching infinite, indicating a surface that would be the most perfect reflector of solar radiation imaginable. No available imperial resources were present to investigate the object further, and it has since been lost to the dark of the void. But more than one of the admittedly radical members of the Ordo Xenos have postulated that, given general tyrannid patterns of avoiding necron tomb worlds and the references in scattered fragments to the outsider being contained or imprisoned, that this object is itself the Catan, or its jail. That such a thing is even possible. 32 million times the dimensions of Holy Terra itself. Its scale would devour the Sol system nearly 100 times over. Such... I shall cease. The outsider is frequently referenced as a mad thing, a being both the source of and victim of madness beyond reckoning. My fear attempting to conceive of its scale is but the first step on the road to such damnation. Back to the tracks. As the mirror struck by the grieving fist of sorrow, as the web that in its spinning so unwinds its strands, the yinger were broken and rent, and into shards they fell. Yet theirs was a fire undying, the weft of the tapestry eternal, that which always is. They did not pass beyond, but rather lingered, as screams whose echoes fracture and fracture again each portion but a stunted repetition of all that gave that first cry of life, repeating endlessly, purposelessly, yet raw and powerful still. Even broken and debased, the yinger had not suffered enough. Intesseract shackles and fractal oobliettes were they bound, in the white heat of hate were their chains wrought, and cold as a void they were as they wound about the shattered echoes of the gods that came before. Fundamental and eternal rolled the waves of ruin around the starlight void for, as the yinger were broken, so too was reality itself. Yet the necronteer cared nothing for the harm they wrought. Slaves became masters, and masters enslaved would be unto the last days of the ranadandra and beyond. Here we arrive at the conclusion, the breaking of the catan, the shackling of their shards which we of the imperium have now come to understand as reality, rather than myth. Once the servants of the star gods, the necrons are now their masters, puppeting their once divinities as weapons to be unleashed upon the battlefield. To the Eldari, this is no doubt poetic justice, even if they bear no love for the necrons themselves, even after their day aside. We are additionally able to glean from this further insight into the catan's nature as fundamental constructs of the real space plane. Adeptus Mechanicus Magi have posited that their control over localised spacetime, as displayed to destructive effects upon numerous worlds, is an aspect of their inhabiting a hitherto unknown layer of the scheme of actuality, and that the Eldari certainly seem to believe this is true, although refusing apparently to couch it in clearer scientific language. Their anathema to the warp likely springs from their nature as fundamental pillars of reality. Just how they came to be is utterly unknowable, for to divine such things is to question the very fabric of the universe itself. The catan are incomprehensible truths, and their sundering it seems an act of devastating harm to creation itself. Quite what the Eldari mean by this is predictably unclear, and perchance a moralising on their part over the act of an also hated enemy. We may never know what forces the necrons have unleashed by the breaking of their gods, or what effect such an act has had. We only know that in doing so, they rose above their erstwhile masters, and in doing became more dangerous to all of us, clad in biological life. Thus I must place a capstone upon my work into these damnable treaties. Illumination has sprung forth from them, I cannot deny. There is a lot of the distant past we are incapable of understanding, and yes, in desperation we may yet turn to disgusting Xenos legends to fill what gaps we can. Aspects of the catan have been explored here, they are vital for our ability to combat them, for yet more continue to appear in the thrall of the necron legions that array themselves against the armies of the Imperium. The Eldari are one of our most ancient foes, and if we must utilise their works to combat an enemy yet more primeval still, such are the lengths we must go through, and such are the compromises survival requires of us. Until our next meeting, Mave Imperator, Gloria in Excelsis Terra. Thank you very much for watching.