Everything blurs around him. He has the distinct feeling that the darkness is lengthening, plunging him into emptiness for longer and longer periods, although he has no way of proving it. The flashes of awareness come only rarely and never stay long. He's given up counting the times he wakes.
The next time awareness flickers into his mind, it comes on the rumbling swell of a sea of voices all chanting in ragged unison, exact words lost in the echoing haze. He wonders at this, but pays it little mind, there were many chants and cadence calls in use during the Crusade and Rebellion, and surely only more have been created since. It is little wonder he doesn't recognize this particular one.
Then a raspy voice, too high to belong to one of his sons and enhanced to near deafening levels by a crackling vox unit, screams to "Worship our Glorious and Undying Lord! For in him we find protecting and comfort, while without him we are lost! Praise his Holy name, that we may follow ever in his footsteps, at step at last into his glorious light!"
What. In. The. Warp.
His eyes fly open and he watches in disbelief as a deluded fop swathed in ornate white robes and wearing a pointed hat that is almost tall as its wearer sets about proselytizing his deluded views at top volume.
Lost without some fictional character's light? How preposterous. Mankind is fully capable of lighting its own path forward without the stifling shadows and petty tyrannies of made-up gods. How dare this man come into his hall and speak such drivel in his presence.
This preacher thinks he can spread the taint that is religion, into the very heart of Ultramar? Is this mortal so filled with delusions that he has the gall to spew his idiotic ideals at his very feet?
It is either the height of stupidity or bravery, and it takes him a moment to look past the fool's sheer audacity.
Is that man truly so confident that his fictional deity will protect him that he is willing to spout such nonsense in the Fortress of Hera itself? Does this preacher dare be in his halls, on his planet, protected by his sons and the might of his father's empire, and still insist on ignoring the Imperial Truth? Does he truly think that his words will sway his sons? That the Ultramarines would allow a superstitious old man to pander and peddle his poisonous opiate to the masses? Allow him to spread his pathetic lies to the people of Macragge?
Apparently, they do. His hall is crowded with people, nobility and citizenry both, all listening to the sermon with rapt attention. Even more disheartening, several of his sons stand guard at the entrances of the hall, and not one has made the slightest move to stop the preacher. Although judging by the looks they are giving the assembled mob, it would appear that more than a few wish they wish they could.
Why haven't they? Why aren't they following his order to eliminate the last traces of superstition and myth when the opportunity to do so has so obviously presented itself? He had made his distaste for "holy men" and their ilk clear on several occasions, and his rulings on the matter had left little room for doubt, nevermind the precedent Monarchia had set. So why are they standing by and letting his orders be flouted so obviously?
He has a sinking feeling that he already knows. His sons have been commanded not to interfere. Someone with the authority to dictate the actions of a first founding chapter, and the power to back it up has ordered his sons to allow this travesty. But who?
The Chapter Master? Unlikely, no true son of his would ever capitulate to this madness. The High Lords? Surely not, the best and brightest humanity has to offer would never stoop so low as to embrace religion. The Senatorium Imperalias? Ha, as if they could agree long enough to write the order, much less send it. There is new power at play here, one he has no knowledge of.
"Praise be to the God-Emperor of Mankind! Hail the Lord of the Golden Throne!" The preacher cries, and the crowd's response is deafening. "Hail the God of Humanity! For he is our Light in the Storm! "
It takes a second for the word to register. God-Emperor? God-Emperor! Did the destruction of Monarchia mean nothing? Teach them nothing? Has the echo of that atrocity ceased to ring across the years? Have his sons forgotten the blood on his hands? On their legacy?
They must have. For now, Logar's Folly, in all it's pitiable hideousness, is proudly proclaimed as an immutable truth of the universe. The teaching and precepts of the first of his brothers to fall to corruption and darkness, now spoken in blind belief by otherwise loyal Imperial subjects. How his daemonic brother must laugh to see everything their father fought for ignored for the sake of what? Power? Control? Comfort? He does not know.
He wants to be angry. He knows he should be furious that his brother's cult has somehow wormed its way into the heart of his domain. Instead, all the feeling he can muster up is a tired sort of halfhearted annoyance and a looming sense of failure.
He'd known there was a chance that the Imperial Cult would survive the purges. He'd prepared eventualities and contingencies in case of just such a resurgence. Tasked agents and operatives, both mortals and Astartes, to monitor and suppress any preacher foolish enough to go about spreading their subversive beliefs. It would appear he hasn't done enough.
He should have rooted out every last trace of Lorgar's fantasies, gotten rid of all who dared to deny the Imperial Truth and the Emperor's Edicts. Throne knows he'd had the opportunity and the resources necessary, yet he'd hesitated, dissuaded by the council of the Anchorite. He never should have trusted the voice of the last loyal Bearer of the Word. Just one more mistake with disastrous consequences, just one more addition to the list of his failings.
"Gaze upon the glorious form of the most infallible Primarch, who's sacred body we stand before today! Roboute Guilliman who teaches us to ever strive towards his perfection and reminds us of our own inferiority! Let us bow down and pray for his forgiveness, that we may be purged of our unworthiness to be in his most immaculate presence!"
Infallible? Perfect? Immaculate? He suddenly understands why his father did not want to be worshiped.
Then the Preacher turns around. The man meets his gaze with gasping astonishment and something approaching ecstasy, then throws himself prostrate at the foot of the stasis chamber. All the while urging his followers to "Give earnest sacrifice to the holy son of the God Emperor of Mankind as humble thanks for this wondrous miracle!"
Darkness surrounds him and pulls him under before he can learn just what the pilgrims consider an "earnest sacrifice" to be.
The pilgrims see the Primarch's eyes open and are filled with faith in the God Emperor of Mankind. For surely only a true god could send such a powerful sign to inspire devotion in his followers. They are blessed to witness such a miracle with their own eyes. The Primarch has shown his approval and has granted them his favor.
The single Librarian in the room knows differently. The utter disgust and annoyance seeping from the Primarch's Stasis Chamber signal anything but approval, and the marine is quick to inform his brothers of this fact.
The Imperial Cult is not welcome on Macragge after that. Despite the protests from Ecclesiarchy and the never-ending hordes of pilgrims that stream to the Fortress of Hera, the Ultramarines obey the will of their father and stand by the Imperial Truth. And so an Age of Apostasy passes Ultramar by, and the Sons of Guilliman fall under the watch of suspicious eyes.
Author's Notes:
Welp, first thing first, I so sorry this chapter is as late as it is. I had my first set of midterms and they completely killed any desire of mine to write. I have a week off for Spring Break, then a second set of midterms the week after, so hopefully I can get some writing done. I'm trying my very best, but even so, updates are probably going to be erratic for the next few weeks.
As usual, Huge Thanks to everyone who's commented/faved/followed. You're all amazing and I love to see what you think about this thing I have made. Please try to keep in mind that I'm still very much a novice when it comes to writing, so any constructive criticism/critique/lore correction is welcome (and let's be honest, desperately needed). Please don't be shy. I need all the help I can get!
Last but certainly not least, a massive thanks to my wonderful beta Spooky-Cadet!