The city was covered in white dust. Outside, it had been everywhere, carried on the wind. Inside, it lay undisturbed and Manius could see the shapes it made for the first time. Human shapes: small, big… The whole city gone, turned into dust—the thought made him grit his teeth in anger. Who would dare to do such a thing to Emperor-fearing people?
By then, inside of building, he was certain nobody had survived. The whole city had been eerily silent, save for the sounds he and his battle brothers made. Each step had rung louder, each word became a shout in his ears. Somehow the emptiness and the silence became oppressive and he almost wished for something foolish to attack him.
However, no matter how much he yearned to strike at someone, to finally act, the culprits remained undiscovered. He looked around, trying to piece anything from what he saw one more time before leaving. The shapes were vague, and he suspected that the people had turned to dust as they fell. Were they dead already and their bodies had slumped gracelessly? Or were they still alive, mouths opening in soundless screams? Had they watched their loved ones turn to nothing or had they been unaware in their last moments? He had questions aplenty, but staying inside would not answer them.
He left the house unmolested, welcomed by the same dead silence outside as the one he left behind him. This time, he stepped over a pile of white dust, knowing that once, it had been a person.
From across the street, he spotted Brother Clavius. Like him, he was clad in the green of the Aurora Chapter, but unlike Manius he was hefting the solid bulk of a flamer. As their gazes met, Clavius shook his head, indicating he had found as much as Manius. The two Marines turned to continue traversing the city. Even though his hopes of finding any clues had been dashed, Manius knew he could not stop looking for something that would tell them what had happened exactly.
Suddenly, behind him something crashed down. Manius turned around to see the prone form of Clavius, the flamer tumbling from his slack grip. Something white and fine poured out from the Marine's mouth grille. With a sinking feeling, an empty sensation that in a human would have been fear and in an Astartes was merely numb shock, he realized it was the same fine dust that could be found everywhere in the city.
Manius remained frozen for minutes—there was no stratagem to form, no tactics to adapt. He had no idea what was happening: a few pieces of a giant puzzle, far too little to build a whole picture. Finally, he opened a vox link to Sergeant Acacius, but only the buzz of static greeted him. Had the same fate befallen him as Clavius?
His first instinct was to rush and investigate, but he fought it down. Perhaps Acacius was fine and Manius would bring this… affliction with him? No, he needed to find the source. With no obvious clues, he had only his instincts to follow and so decided to simply head in the direction that Clavius had come from. He still remembered how the city had been divided between them from the briefing, so following his brother's steps would not prove a problem.
He entered the building across the road first, covering his entry with his bolter, but there was nothing there, only a dusty corridor.
Slowly, carefully, he picked his way, never letting his guard slip. He opened one door, then another, but all he found were just dusty little flats. And yet, the nagging sense that there had to be something there, some hidden ritual site, some concealed sorcerer playing with powers not meant for men, would not leave him.
Nothing warned him of what would happen next. It was just another old creaking door that he pushed open. Nothing indicated that he would find anything but another empty dusty flat inside. Just as soon as he pushed the door open a sweet cloying odour assaulted him. He blinked away tears and coughed to clear his throat, though neither helped much. Once he finally could see clearly, he was greeted by a riot of colours and dancing sigils. They moved across the ceiling and walls, some swiftly, others lazily, like currents in an ocean.
Manius stood frozen for just a few seconds. Then he reached to his belt, fumbling for a grenade—this had to be the source of whatever had happened. This little room, with nothing but colours. His fingers felt numb and clumsy, as he struggled to take the explosive. A sluggish thought rose in his mind—why had Clavius not burned this place?
And then came the sound, high and piercing. It drove him to his knees, blood streaming from his ruptured ear-drums. Still, he tried to finally throw the grenade, but he couldn't even-
Then it all faded to white.
Acacius had just left a small alley, when he spotted Brother Manius. He passed him in silence, wondering what was occupying him that he was so still, when suddenly, something clattered behind his back. He turned around to see Manius' armoured form prone on the ground, a fine white powder pouring out from the mouth grille.
AN: Entry for the RiaR competition on the Black Library Bolthole for the prompt "White". Second place. I was having a creepy month.