Volturnos

Volturnos was there at the beginning. He is the last of the Cythai, the first generation of aelves Teclis drew out of Slaanesh's captivity and remade with his own hands — and one of those who chose the long dive into darkness when the Cythai fled their maker's regret. Every other soul who made that journey has since died or faded. Volturnos remains: a living memory of first light and first flight, carrying a history his people have taught themselves to forget.

In war he is the measure against which every Akhelian is held. From the saddle of his deepmare Uasall he has broken orruk armadas, daemon tides, and nameless things dredged up from the ocean's trenches, and in all the long count of his wars the enclaves cannot name a battle he has lost. He bears the Astra Solus, a blade that burns with pure, unclouded radiance — the one light no Idoneth fears — and upon his helm sits the Crest of the High Kings, worn by the enclaves' first rulers and by no one since.

Yet Volturnos's true war is quieter. Alone among the great powers of the deep he insists that the enclaves are one people — that Ionrach, Dhom-hain, Fuethan, Mor'phann and all the scattered rest must stand together or be swallowed separately. The enclaves listen because of what he is: living proof that the Idoneth were made from a god's hope and not merely a god's failure. Where the High King raises the Astra Solus, the Deepkin remember — briefly, painfully — what it was to be meant for the light.