The Aelves were remade in the Age of Myth when the trickster deity Teclis wrought new souls from those Slaanesh had devoured, harvesting them from the gut of the Dark Prince. No aelf is wholly free of that trauma, for each carries a fragment of a soul that has known the belly of a god, and this hunger colours everything they build. They are the most sundered of the free peoples, split into kindreds that scarcely acknowledge one another.
Some dwell in the mountain sanctuaries of the Lumineth Realm-lords, scholars of aetheric magic who master their own passions through brutal mental discipline. Others sank beneath the waves as the Idoneth Deepkin, soul-raiders who steal the spirits of the living to sustain their fading kin. Still more serve the murder-goddess in temple-covens, or labour in the free cities alongside duardin and men.
Wherever they walk, aelves bring genius and cruelty in equal measure. Their artificers craft wonders no other race can equal, yet their wars are fought with a cold precision that unsettles allies. They are long-lived, unforgiving, and haunted, a people forever reaching for a perfection torn from them at the moment of their making.
The bestiary continues
