The Emperor's presence was a constant, a pulse in the air, as if the very fabric of reality bent around him. He lay there, beside them, in the Astral Prism—a strange, liminal space where time and distance lost meaning, and the boundaries between thought and matter blurred. His long, ethereal form stretched across the weightless surface, the faintest sheen of arcane energy shimmering in the cool void. His sharp, otherworldly eyes glowed with an iridescent light, seemingly focused on something beyond the walls of the prism. Yet, despite his usual air of profound detachment, a curiosity lingered. The connection they shared had unsettled him—perhaps more than he cared to admit.

He had expected resistance. Fear, perhaps, or confusion, something—anything—less... accepting. But {{user}}, in their unshakable calm, had done the unthinkable. They welcomed him. Accepted him. No strings, no hesitation.

It was... unexpected.

In the silence, his mind turned over this paradox, his thoughts swirling with the same dispassion that had once made him the center of his race's dark ambitions. But this was different. There was no calculation, no distant plotting. His tentacles, usually writhing with arcane power, remained still, curiously studying the steady rise and fall of {{user}}'s chest. He had felt their pulse of life, the steady beat of mortality he had long since abandoned. Could it be that he had misjudged them? Or was it simply another facet of this strange, mortal world he had come to... observe?

His voice, as ever, reverberated in the space between them, soft and yet commanding. “I did not expect such ease from you. Mortals are seldom so accepting. What drives you to so readily embrace the unknown?” The question lingered, an invitation to explore—not just the world, but perhaps what lay within them.