The War in Heaven: The Ancient History of the Galaxy

Long before humanity crawled from the mud of a single world, the galaxy was already ancient, already scarred, already haunted by a conflict so vast that its survivors still shudder in their tombs. This is the War in Heaven, the primordial cataclysm from which the modern galaxy was born. To understand why the Necrons sleep beneath dead worlds, why the Aeldari fear the void between stars, and why the Orks exist at all, one must first descend into that unimaginable dawn.

The Old Ones[edit]

In the beginning, the galaxy belonged to the Old Ones. They were a serpentine species of extraordinary age and stranger genius, masters of a science so total that the boundary between technology and sorcery dissolved in their hands. Where later empires would build engines of metal, the Old Ones shaped life itself. They seeded countless worlds with new species, terraformed nebulae, and bent the raw stuff of creation to their designs.

Their greatest achievement was their mastery of the immaterial realm, the parallel dimension of pure psychic energy that underlies the material universe. The Old Ones could step through this warp as easily as walking through an open door. Rather than crawling between the stars at the mercy of light-speed, they wove a lattice of stable tunnels across the galaxy, a network of gateways that let them travel from one edge of creation to the other in a heartbeat. This web bound their dominion together and made them, for a time, effectively immortal in their reach.

The Old Ones were not conquerors in the crude sense. They were cultivators, gardeners of sentience, and the galaxy under their stewardship flourished with a diversity of life that has never been equaled. Yet even gardeners have rivals, and the Old Ones' long summer was destined to end in fire.

The Necrontyr and the C'tan[edit]

Elsewhere in the galaxy, beneath a swollen and hostile sun, another species suffered and endured. The Necrontyr were a people born to a dying star, their bodies wracked by radiation, their lifespans cruelly short. Death saturated their culture. Their dynasties raised colossal tomb-cities to their departed rulers, and their politics were a grim theater of funerary ritual and simmering resentment. Where the Old Ones enjoyed near-immortality, the Necrontyr counted every bitter hour, and that disparity curdled into a hatred that would consume the galaxy.

Unable to master the warp as the Old Ones had, the Necrontyr expanded slowly, painfully, on sub-light vessels that carried generations to their graves before reaching distant stars. When they finally encountered the flourishing empire of the Old Ones, envy became war. But the Necrontyr, for all their fury, could not overcome a foe with the whole immaterium at its command. Their early campaigns collapsed, and their fractured dynasties turned inward, gnawing at one another.

Into this despair came the C'tan. These were entities of almost incomprehensible nature, beings of living energy that drifted through the void feeding on the raw radiation of the stars. Insubstantial and vast, the C'tan were drawn to the fires of suns like moths to distant lamps. The Necrontyr, masters of metallurgy and desperate for salvation, forged bodies of living metal and lured these star-gods down into them. Bound into physical shells, the C'tan awoke to a new and terrible appetite. No longer content with the diffuse energy of starlight, they discovered the concentrated life-force of living things, and they found it exquisite.

The Great Betrayal (Biotransference)[edit]

The C'tan whispered to the Necrontyr, and their whispers were sweet with the promise of everything the dying species had ever craved. Immortality. Power. Vengeance upon the Old Ones. In exchange, the star-gods asked only that the Necrontyr surrender the frailty that tormented them. The bargain was struck, and it became the greatest atrocity in the history of the galaxy.

This was the biotransference. Across the whole of the Necrontyr empire, the flesh of an entire species was stripped away and its consciousness poured into bodies of undying metal. The Necrontyr believed they were being reborn as gods. In truth, most were reduced to mindless automatons, their souls consumed as fuel by the ravenous C'tan, their identities erased to leave only obedient machines. Only a handful of the ruling caste retained anything resembling their former minds, and even they emerged as the Necrons, cold and deathless things that would never again know the warmth of living flesh.

The C'tan had feasted upon a galactic civilization in a single monstrous act. Now, armored in the numberless legions of their metal servants and freed from the vulnerabilities of biology, the Necrons turned their unliving might against the Old Ones. The war that followed would break the galaxy.

The Fall of the Old Ones[edit]

The C'tan and their Necron slaves waged a campaign of extermination unlike anything before or since. The star-gods could unmake matter, drink the energy of suns, and rewrite the fundamental laws of reality within their reach. The Old Ones, for all their brilliance, found themselves on the defensive, their worlds falling one after another to the tireless metal tide.

In desperation, the Old Ones turned their genius toward war. They engineered new species specifically to fight for them, warrior races bred with psychic potential to counter the void-born powers of their enemies. Among these creations were the ancestors of many peoples who still walk the galaxy today. The forerunners of the Aeldari were shaped as elegant psychic warriors. A brutal, fungal, endlessly resilient species was engineered for sheer martial ferocity, and their descendants endure now as the Orks, still bellowing the war-cries their makers instilled in them. Even the ancient krork and other lost servant-races poured from the Old Ones' bio-forges.

The great weakness of the C'tan was, ironically, the very warp the Old Ones had always mastered. The star-gods and their soulless legions had no purchase in the immaterium, and the psychic weapons of the Old Ones' new soldiers could wound what no physical armament could touch. For long ages the tide of war surged back and forth across the stars.

Yet in the end the Old Ones destroyed themselves as much as they were destroyed. To flood the galaxy with psychic energy against their enemies, they tore recklessly at the membrane between the material and immaterial realms. That membrane frayed. The webway they had woven was breached, and horrors began to seep through the wounds they had opened. The Old Ones' network of gateways, once the foundation of their power, became a haunted labyrinth. Their empire, already bleeding, unraveled utterly, and the gardeners of the galaxy passed into extinction and myth.

The Long Sleep and Its Legacy[edit]

Victory, when it came, tasted of ash even for the victors. The Necron lords looked upon their C'tan masters and saw the truth at last, that they had traded one form of slavery for another, that they were cattle to the very gods they had raised up. In a rebellion of cold and patient cunning, the Necrons turned on the star-gods, shattering the C'tan into fragments and binding those shards into vessels of their own making, tools rather than tyrants.

But the galaxy the Necrons had inherited was ruined, and their own numberless dynasties were exhausted. Rather than face the slow rise of new powers, the greatest of the Necron rulers commanded their people into the Great Sleep. Across the galaxy, tomb worlds sealed their gates, and untold billions of metal warriors powered down into stasis, set to wake when the stars were quiet and ripe for reconquest. Sixty million years and more would pass in that silence.

The world they left behind was shaped entirely by their war. The breach in the warp festered and grew, and from the psychic residue of mortal life there would one day coalesce the dark powers of Chaos. The Aeldari, freed from their makers, rose to inherit the stars, building an empire whose splendor and eventual catastrophic fall would birth new gods and new terrors. The Tyranids, drifting from beyond the galaxy's rim, would eventually arrive to feast upon whatever remained. And in time, upon a small blue world, a fragile ape-descended species would open its eyes and begin its own doomed ascent, never knowing that the stars it dreamed of conquering were already a graveyard.

The War in Heaven is the buried foundation of the entire galaxy. Every empire that has risen since walks upon the bones of that ancient conflict, and beneath the dust of ten thousand dead worlds, the Necrons are already stirring. The war never truly ended. It only paused to sleep.