((A fluffbusting piece of fiction I wrote for the "Calling all the Heroes" summer contest at I got quite some votes, but I would like to rework it into what it has the potential to become. Read and review if you like. Imperial Fist, Rogal Dorn, Warlord Titans, Ordo Malleus, Adeptus Astartes and all the other strange words and names are copyrighted by Games-Workshop. This is just a fanfic. Alix and Kheraziel are mine, though.))
His will be done
For endless aeons, the God-Emperor of Mankind has been encased in his Golden Throne, not alive, not dead, but in stasis. Built by the great Primarch of the venerable Imperial Fists, Rogal Dorn, it stands in the inner sanctum of the great Imperial Palace, covering a whole of Terra's old continents. It is guarded at all times by two Warlord Titans and the Adeptus Custodes, and none may approach the adamantium doors without His leave. It is said to be a place of unimaginable beauty but also of sorrow, it is the origin of the Astronomican, it is a testament to His greatness.
Who can guess His thoughts? Who can claim to know his will, who can say they know his will?
For ages have the Imperium been one, yet divided by its many factions. Guided not by the Emperor himself but by the High Lords, the Inquisition, the Adeptus Astartes and countless others, billions of worlds live their daily lives and does not question. While the high and mighty vie for power, ordinary men are born, live, and die without ever questioning their authority.
And so endless years pass by, with victories and defeats, worlds conquered and worlds lost.
When the dreams began, Inquisitor Alix of the Ordo Malleus was deeply troubled. Her choice to keep them to herself seemed wise at first, but as they continued she understood their source and their purpose, and could no longer hide it from her superiors. Soon, the dreamer found herself not anymore in control of her own life, but shipped around, at all times guarded, meeting interrogator after interrogator, never knowing if her life would end the next day or where she would wake up.
As Alix walked between the guards she no longer bothered to learn the names of, inside her a calm reigned. These were better than the last ones, who had been somewhat rough to her. She suspected her disinterested mention of this to one of the interrogator Inquisitor she met to be the cause.
One of the guards held up his hand, and the guards came to a halt, hindering Alix from absentmindedly walking in through the solid, unadorned doors in front of them.
"The object is here for interrogation, Inquisitor!" bellowed the guard. He had some kind of marks on the lower arm of his jacket, Alix noted, and thought dryly it must be what gave him the right to use his lungs without using his brain. In her usual detached way, she had noticed the man using his voice-capacity to an extent she was sure was not necessary. She missed the reply, but did not mind. A great many things she had taken pride in before her dreams began, such as a meticulously trained memory and excellent attention, she now neglected. She knew it was all still there, she just did not call upon it anymore.
Then she was asked to sit down in an unusually comfortable chair, and started to taking notice about her surroundings again. The room she had been taken to was in no ways remarkable, she had seen dozens of similar rooms by now. In the first few, she had always been rather worried of immediate death should she say something those questioning her did not want to hear. But she learned that they were far too interested in what she had to say to do so, and she found herself trusting more and more in her dreams telling here that her end was yet long to come.
Behind a grey desk, a man in a long coat stood. It was simple, black and suited him well. His hair was well groomed, and a slight smile played along the lines of his mouth. Alix guessed him to be a powerful man, sure of himself and probably one of the more subtle Inquisitors there were.
"I am Inquisitor Desartus of the Ordo Malleus. I have information of all that you have said before. However, I wish to know a few other trivial things."
Alix simply nodded. This wasn't surprising her the least.
"Are the voices there when you are awake?"
"There is only one voice. He never speaks to me but in dreams."
Desartus walked to stand behind her. How predictable they were at times, in small ways they probably did not notice themselves. Alix thought of herself doing the very same thing at times in the past.
"Have you been to the Holy Terra? What does it look like?"
Alix though the question rather out of place, but answered:
"I have not gone to the Holy Terra, His birthplace. Of what it looks like, I can say nothing. I know from my studies it has the most expensive soil in the entire Imperium, I know that..."
"That is enough. Do you consider yourself to be a messenger?"
"He has told me so. He has told me that I am."
"Describe your latest dream."
As Alix did so, she noticed Desartus eyes did not blink once. He did not merely seem to listen to get answers, but what he was after, Alix did not know and did not care to guess about. He did nod, once or twice, but after she was done, Desartus waved to the guards to take her back to her sparse living quarters.
During the following days, more questionings of the same kind were held. Alix did not question why, but simply noted the fact that Desartus did not seem much interested in deciding whether she was a heretic, possessed or something else unorthodox. Sometimes he would offer her a drink and talk about everyday things. Always the smile would appear in the left corner of his mouth, when she spoke, but never could she guess why.
About a week after their first meeting, Alix was once more shipped away to someplace she never heard the name of. Desartus also left his temporary office, and had messages sent through many mediums. They were of many kinds with various encryptions, and a secret society the Inquisition itself had no knowledge of, began working from behind the shadows. They were old, and they were numerous. And, unbeknownst to the Thorian faction, which also received messages by its influential and respected member Desartus, this society had been aiding them, hindering them, steering them through all the countless millennia. Always only ever so subtly, but with results that would now aid the whole of mankind. So was their belief. They called themselves the Illuminati.
Then it came to pass that Alix was called to stand before the High Lords of Terra, and all were certain she was doomed. For was she not possessed, was she not a heretic? Her very being called to the Holy Terra caused much protest, but by now she was not only of interest to the Inquisition, and even the Chapter Masters of the Adeptus Astartes would interrogate her. Much of this remained outside Alix's knowledge; she was carefully shielded against anything that could influence her in any way. She thought sometimes that this did not matter, for she had only one allegiance now. And every night she dreamt, even if she did not always hear the voice, that wonderful voice. She saw such beauty in her dreams, felt such tranquility, that no matter how she was treated, no matter what they asked, she was always like the eye of a storm. Nothing managed to sway her, no threats and no promises. After a while, someone decided she should be allowed to read, upon which she promptly requested only historical or personal accounts concerning the time before and around the Horus Heresy. By the kind of books she was given, and that she was no longer moved around, Alix guessed she was now on the holy soil of Terra. Her dreams felt stronger, more solid, even if they never revealed anything about the matter.
More time passed without any declaration, and for many members of the Inquisition everything went on like it always had. For those confessing themselves to the Thorian faction, however, now began a busy time. Whole worlds were carefully prepared for that which to come, all over the Imperium libraries were scoured for last scraps of information needed and on Terra a quiet search began.
"Inquisitor Alix!" The voice was deep and pleasant, but bore no trace of emotions.
Alix straightened herself, hoping fervently that her coat had not been wrinkled during the brief time she had been permitted to sit. After over three years in custody, filled with impromptu meetings with the most powerful men and women of the Imperium, she admitted to herself, she had probably developed a few small obsessions and worries. It hardly mattered anymore, though, and thinking of her dreams, she immediately became calm, focused and composed.
"We have listened to your confessions," the announcer said, and then continued, "Inquisitor Kheraziel!"
Her eyes widened as Alix saw the man who had been addressed rising from his seat. His hair was graying in a strange fashion, yet his face had an uncanny look of youth. He bore the Inquisitorial seal, but for all her wits, Alix could not imagine why he was here. It all became clear a moment later.
"Inquisitor Kheraziel, we have also heard your confessions. Let it be known to both of you that you have not been alone with your dreams. We know not why the Emperor in His wisdom has chosen you two, but it has been decided that you are not, in fact, heretics. Neither are you influenced by any force xenos or tainted. That is the decision of the High Lords."
Completely baffled, Alix could not help but cast a sidelong glance over the huge room toward Kheraziel. She quickly turned it forward again; he had been doing the same toward her. Her mind, now racing, kept working on the current situation, analyzing and putting pieces together. There had been another one, dreaming as she did, hearing the unimaginably beautiful, abstract and soothing voice of, as she believed, the Emperor? But why this statement? She had been quietly waiting for her certain death ever since she had turned herself in, yet now it seemed as if that was not what lay in store for her. Her dreams had told her otherwise, but she had not been able to believe in that wholeheartedly, however much it shamed her to admit so.
A man arose from the distant table, a man whose shape she recognized as being the one of current Inquisitorial Representative Etrius. His crooked nose and deep-set eyes made an impressive visage, and now his clear, dark voice cut through the air.
"The Emperor has made clear His will. These two have been chosen as His mediums, and are hereafter to be treated as assistants to the High Lords of Terra."
The room fell completely and utterly silent. For all of the time since the Emperor had ceased to communicate verbally, nothing so outrageous had happened. The balance of the High Lords might well be in the balance, but both Kheraziel and Alix were more safe now than during their uncertain years of testing. Who would dare upset the possible source of their dreams?
Afterwards, another message went out to the Inquisitor Desartus. And the Illuminati began the final stages of their carefully nurtured plan.
"Will You be there?" Alix whispered, and the wonderful presence that was surrounding her, that was inside her and everywhere answered, with the soft touch of the wind, the warmth of clear sunshine from an unpolluted sky and the booming of a waterfall answered her:
"Yes, daughter; yes, child. As I have always been. Thine own will shall not falter, but guard well thy brethren in the time I shall be absent."
Feeling very much human, Alix thought:
"How I wish they could all feel Your presence, all know Your glorious being."
"And soon they, all my beautiful, willful and wonderful children, shall do so. Fear not, daughter… It is the right time. Some shall fall, and I shall weep for them. Do not fear. Wake. It is time."
And Alix woke up instantly, feeling the familiar emptiness and void. But she also well remembered the beauty of the dream, and remembered the words that were not so much heard as they were felt. Beside her, Kheraziel sat up in his, separate, bed. They had shared the same simple, comfortable quarters ever since the day they had first met, and did almost everything in unison now. It had come natural even before they had been ordered to do so. They rose, cleansed themselves, dressed and fixed their Inquisitorial seals like two programmed servitors – it was uncanny to see, but they only felt a complete harmony. No word was spoken as they broke their fast, no conscious thought touched them until they stepped outside the doors and walked down the endless corridors of the Imperial Palace on Terra.
"He has told us not to fear," Kheraziel murmured the very moment Alix thought the words. Replying with the same words she knew he would be thinking, Alix said:
"We will not falter. And we shall bend our will to guard His great Imperium for that time as He shall not be present."
Half an hour later, they came to the vessel that was to take them to the Golden Throne. Present were many of high power and status. The lady who had been sent as Inquisitorial Representative, Therymna, with eyes like Etrius', and several other Inquisitors of great renown and power. There was Saquiel of the Ordo Hereticus, who had ever since his birth been considered by many as one of the purest souls in the Imperium. Beside him stood others, many recognized by Alix as being of the Thorian faction. Some were known for their extensive knowledge of the xenos Eldar, and it was whispered one or two had seen the Black Library. One could count no few representatives of the Adeptus Astartes, towering above everyone in full armour and splendour. One bore a giant, scaly, green cape; another could be recognized by his enormous blue suit as an Ultramarine. Alix understood that these must all be Chapter masters and some of their revered brothers. There were the remaining High Lords of Terra, not to be forgotten, from the Master of the Administratum to the Paternoval envoy of the Navigators and the Abbess Sanctorum of the Adepta Sororitas. All these dignitaries quieted when the dreamers entered, let an uneasy silence fall – for this was no doubt the first time all of these many powerful members of the Imperium had ever found themselves in such a company – and resumed a silent waiting.
Then there was Inquisitor Desartus, as always impeccably dressed and with a slight smile on his face, who had been working for the two forces of Illuminati and Thorian Inquisitors for as long as he cared to remember. But in a few hours, it would not matter anyway.
Outside the gargantuan doors, the two ever-vigilant Warlord Titans stood on guard. Surrounding them were members of the Adeptus Custodes, and one false step at this moment would send everyone to their certain deaths. But the dreamers were not afraid. They were not afraid, and when they bowed to the guardians, the massive doors slowly swung open.
And overhead, a chanting could be heard, seemingly far away, while the scent of countless burning candles permeated the air. The stairs leading up to the Golden Throne seemed to Alix to prompt the recalling of every moment of her life leading up to this. As they all reverently took step after step, she saw herself receiving the Inquisitor sign, saw herself waking up from her first dream, saw herself turning to Kheraziel when the Council had made their decision final. Not a word was spoken, and she could not know if the others were experiencing something similar. But for every step taken toward their goal, her mind seemed to clear itself and to focus on that one thing they were here for. Soon she did not take any notice of the all the age-old banners adorning the walls around her, no notice of anything except the God-Emperor on his Golden Throne. Alix felt calm, detached yet focused, and completely secure. Flanked by His guardians, every member of the company took up their ordained positions, and the dreamers approached the heart of the Imperium.
It was a mass of wires, of strange runes and technology so ancient no one today knew exactly what all of them were supposed to do. Some things shone bright, some had tarnished despite all efforts of the caretakers. And there, glorious in all His splendour, a giant with wounds still open and bones still broken, the Saviour of Mankind was resting. The Golden Throne seemed as if in synthesis with its Emperor, feeding off him yet at the same time being the one thing that kept him somehow alive. Everyone, from the High Lords and the Adeptus Astartes to the Inquisitors and the dreamers, had halted now, and without any given cue, they dropped to their knees. Here before them lay the end of their long journey, for which countless battles had been fought, endless volumes of books had been read, aeons of time had been passed intriguing.
When they stood up again, Alix and Kheraziel took their positions in front of the God-Emperor. Reverently, they approached until they could see His pale face, amazingly calm and serene, and they both felt a joyous shiver pass down their spines. Here was the Omnissiah, their Protector and God, the One who had set all this in motion. Waiting for the ceremony to begin, everyone had their eyes upon on the Throne. Therefore, everyone saw when gracefully, miraculously, ever so slightly, His eyes opened. And they knew doubt no more.
In a voice only a harsh whisper, Desartus said slowly:
"Commence."
And Kheraziel and Alix started the sermon, reciting in perfect unison ancient prayers and hymns, unsung for countless generations, while those chosen for the task began the work of shutting down the mechanisms keeping the Emperor of Mankind in his half-dead, half-living state.
Across the endless galaxy, a collective scream arose. For mankind had been deprived of its God and Emperor, in order to let him be born anew, and no light shone from the Astronomican. The unnumbered billions of Imperial worlds were without direct contact with one another, the protectors of all humans were few and far between, and the enemies of the Imperium were soon upon the human race.
Nine months later, a woman gave birth on Holy Terra, not yet reached by any enemy forces. And this was the new beginning.