Irlityra didn’t feel comfortable as she watched her home slip from view. The sight was new and unknown to her, she had only seen Lugganath when she left as an aspect warrior, and she hadn’t cared to gaze upon the craftworld on those occasions. This time thought it was different, she could clearly see the size and scale of it. And just how far away it was from her… She didn’t feel comfortable because of the corsairs. They appeared no different from any eldar she knew; their outlandish styles were more flamboyant than those that her craftworld friends had dabbled with, but it was their attitudes that worried her. Her whole body became taut at the thought of being on this ship for an extended length of time; it was only as the ship neared the webway portal that the magnitude of this adventure hit her. The tension running through her mind was being mirrored by the spirits of the ship, or was their tensions being mirrored by her mind? She was lost in that thought as Lugganath slipped away from her sight, they had transitioned into the webway and the journey had begun. Releasing the breath she had held without realising it, she began the process of moving into the spirit world. It was like slipping sideways into your imagination for her. You would let go of the attachment to your body, but hold tightly to your mind your spirit and your thought, and then it would… There weren’t very many spirits on this ship, most of them were helping the crew with necessary functions, but their stories danced around the ship echoing their glories and their failures for all to hear. It was a symphony of sounds and thoughts, muddled by death and distractions. Irlityra listened to the names, to the stories, to the dreams and desires of those that could no longer fulfil them. She glided amongst the thoughts like the Arcadia flew through the heavens, she moved amongst them like a ghost. A ghost amongst ghosts. Irlityra attention was drawn to a name. Tantharal. He was… had been… on the Path of the Musician and Irlityra remembered hearing him play one evening when she was very young. He had been especially good with the star-harp, it was his favourite instrument and he’d spent hours telling stories to the children after his performance about it. She watched as his spirit wandered without purpose amongst the crowd of spirits. Transferring between the craftworlds infinity circuit and ships was not uncommon, normally though they managed to return to the craftworld in time. ‘Perhaps it was fate?’ he formless form pondered. Approaching his spirit, she became a mote of dust in his thoughts, unnoticed as he dreamed a scene from his life, as the spirits were want to do. He was sitting in a garden…somewhere…, the details were vague, for his memory was distorted by his death, with a small group of people. ‘Do I know these people?’ She heard the question and watched as the dream began again, repeated the first few moments of the dream again and again. She had seen this before, the spirit was trying to remember more details, but as they tried to remember more, they actually forgot more of the memory. The scene replayed itself over and over again, with the question ‘Do I know these people?’ echoing across his strand. To spare him from the sadness of this half remembered dream Irlityra made her presence known. She changed from a mote of dust, passively watching the scene to a radiant light, the light of the living and of life. The memory began to slip away from Tantharal’s attention but Irlityra caught hold of it and carefully preserved it in his mind. Tantharal watched as she preserved it against decay, she couldn’t restore the memory to its completed state thought. ‘I must be dreaming but I don’t remember falling asleep.’ Tantharal said in an unfocused voice. ‘Lileath?’ the word was slurred and half spoken but recognisable. Irlityra shook her head even though she had no head. Her features changed as Tantharal tried to remember what Lileath looked like to give her that form. Irlityra gently put a hand on his shoulder, his form becoming clear despite his incorporeal nature, and as she did so her form changed as well. She appeared as a double image, Tantharal only saw the young girl who had sat next to him and listened to his stories with wonder in her eyes, while Irlityra saw herself as the woman she is now. ‘Tantharal. Will you help me seek a great treasure?’ she said, great wisdom and power in the voice of a child. Tantharal nodded sluggishly in agreement, but the smile that lit up his face was almost as bright as Irlityra’s form. Irlityra’s eyes open once more upon the real world; it had been but a moment for everyone else. Her bleary gaze wandered across the bridge, not taking anything in, but searching for the seekers of the sword. ‘… but I don’t remember falling asleep.’ she mumbled in an unfocused voice as her gaze fell upon the Felarch.