Before them was a door, made of a pearly substance that floated and congealed across the room. Under it read, “The Gateway of Death.” Arawn paused, his eyes floating over it. He moved closer, summoning his runes as he walked forward.
His mind crept forward with him, poking and prodding at the gateway. Looking for something, anything. Then he found it, a hole in the veil, not in the physical, but popping out in his mind, as a yellow shirt in a crowd of black would. Little yellow dots drifted from the hole, leaking into the room in a steady trickle.
Arawn’s mind grabbed one of the dots, and opened it like a book. It opened grudgingly, yet when it opened, Arawn found the memory of the final battle on the starship with Horus enclosed. Arawn’s mind leaped from it, before it corrupted him as it corrupted many others.
Now he knew what must be done. He strode towards it, summoning the rune of healing to his hand. His eyes closed, yet he did not notice, for he was totally concentrated on the rune before him, glittering in the darkness.
He felt his energy draining from him at a ferocious rate, and felt the gate closing, slowly. He slumped to the floor, not wanting to waste energy standing up. The rune drained more energy from him, draining nearly all that he had. He had to cut it off, had to, had to.
He opened his eyes. There was his brother, standing before him, urging him on, urging him to keep climbing the tree. There was the cold-faced seer, pronouncing the doom of Altansar lay in the Blood Angel’s Flaw. There was his brother again, his body mangled and broken, lifeless. And then he remembered the last words he said.
He nodded. He knew what must be done. There would be no words, no goodbyes, only a peaceful descent into the void. His eyes closed, and then he slumped onto the floor, channeling every last ounce of strength he had into his spell, and then, blackness.
Sinendra stumbled off the ramp of his ship, hobbling. He had found his master’s body, found his lifeless pulse, and found the sorrow inside of him. His eyes burned, yet he knew he must not show it.
He raced forward, stopping only at a local vendor to point his way to the capital. His feet were weary, weary of the walk back through his craftworld.
“Sinendra!”
He turned, and found himself looking at the Lord-Farseer Telema. The Farseer’s face was grave and his hand clutched a piece of paper. Sinendra gaped at him as he ran towards, unaccompanied by either guard nor warlock.
“We found out about Arawn,” was the first thing Telema said.
Sinendra raised his eyebrows, “news travels that fast?”
Telema shook his head gravely. “No, this.” He held out the piece of paper he was holding. Sinendra took it wordlessly, looking at it. Inscribed in the middle was a single rune, kavadasha. Sinendra looked at Telema quizzically.
“You know what that rune is?”
“Yes, kavandasha. What is this?”
Telema nodded, “it is the note your master gave to me when he set off on this journey, and told me not to open it until the next fortnight.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Do you know what kavadasha signifies?”
“No.” The words his master had said in his dreams, again and again, echoed in Sinendra’s mind. “I die so that you may live…I die so that you may live.”
“It signifies the final battle between Eldanesh and Khaine, where Eldanesh died to protect his fleeing people.” I die so that you may live.
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“Do you know the prophecy? Do you know how Coran died?”I die so that you may live.
“Yes, sir.” Then it hit Sinendra like a brick, and he cried out, “His Brother!”
Telema nodded again, “Yes, young warlock, his brother.” I die so that you may live. “Do you know what the rest of the rune indicates?”
“What?” I die so that you may live.
“I thought not, not many people know about it.” Telema nodded to Sinendra, his arm moving to his shoulder. “Eldanesh did not die in a sense, for he continued to live on. How else can a man live on after death? He lived in the hearts and dreams of his people, and as long as they still stood he could never die. Because of him, they fought of many enemies, and triumphed over many things in his memory. So, in a way, Eldanesh still lived, alive, and still protecting those he cared the most about, who he was willing to die for. Do you see what I mean?”
But Sinendra was not listening, he was remembering a conversation with Arawn that he had once had as they sat together. He scratched his mind as he struggled to remember. The conversation was about the dead. He remembered that he had said, “Then the dead cannot live again, so anyone who has died is dead forever.”
And to that, Arawn had answered, “But someone who has never died can live forever, because they can never die.”
And then he had said, “but how can someone live forever, they must die after a certain time?”
Then he remembered. Arawn had stood up, and walked towards him, looking him directly in the eye, “someday you will understand what I have just said to you, someday, someday.”
Arawn’s voice drifted from the past…someday….someday…someday. It was a never-ending stream of that same word that drove Sinendra to his knees, his hands clasped in a prayer and his eyes closed.
“I do, master, I do now.”
