Chapter 1: Ephemera
Somewhere else, deep in the forest, something stirred.
Night had fallen over Ephemera, a planet with no valuable natural resources. A world of vast blue land, and a green sea. The conquest of Ephemera was never fully completed by the Imperium due to travel restrictions. Ephemera is located near many interstellar highways of Tyranid Hive Fleets. Nasty, winged creatures that strip all life in their wake to feed their spawn. A true disease amongst the stars. Such adventures are expensive in fuel and dangerous because of Ephemera's remote location in the cosmos. The savage tribes of people who squandered over miniscule resources had no concern of space travel or alien intelligence. Once the Imperium arrived, the Astartes became gods to the masses. The Imperium had helped fuel a simple rebellion and seat a proxy king that would ultimately carry out the will of the Emperor. More urgent matters within the Crusade demanded the Imperium's attention, so they withdrew their presence from the colony they created and left it in the hands of a puppet. Servitor analysts were provided to watch over and report the king's activity, partially to ensure his species learns the science of interstellar travel and other cosmic entities that exist. The king's bloodline has now degraded hundreds of times after many kings violently disapproved of supporting an ancient ally who was nowhere to be found. By assuming Ephemera was lost or unintelligent and of no threat to the Imperium, the world was overlooked throughout the many crusades. The binary survey beacons implanted in the heads of the servitors have been sending normal signatures, implying that no interstellar beings have left or entered the planet. The natives were rudimentary and unskilled compared to the Imperium. Their capital was however, thanks to the Imperium, ornate and sponsored thunderous towers of stone and iron that penetrated the sky fifty meters high. The capital rivaled the lesser structures in size and craftsmanship. It was clearly a relic of an ancient time. The castle boasted of power and fully displayed it to the surrounding trees and sea. Engulfing the capital was an equally impressive stone wall that encapsulated it on all but one side. Outside the massive wall was a maze of smaller wooden and stone houses, stacked on top of each other within a network of narrow streets filled with carriages, vendors, and huts. Along the enormous wall protecting the castle was a single iron studded gate that stood twenty meters to the top of the wall.
A bell rang from one of the thunderous pillars within the capital. A moment later, the sound of grinding gears and shouting of men filled the streets as the twenty meter gate rumbled with force. The drawbridge complained with age and neglect as it was slowly lowered to the ground. A dozen men and women begin shouting and holding ropes to assist the gears. Mostly servants and slaves, they worked hard together. The iron studs and beams of the gate crashed accompanied with a loud bang as they found their grooves in the iron craters in the dirt. Not a moment after the gate crashed down is when two files of mounted soldiers rode out of the capital and into the crowded streets, holding torches and shouting to move out of the way. Each soldier wore vests of iron and tight leather clothing that allowed them to have extra mobility. The leather was tanned and dyed to match the green and blue of the landscape. Every warrior was marked with a shining iron helmet. The soldiers' barrel through haphazardly placed carriages and small huts that still contained some of the sleeping, less-advantaged civilians. Attempting to break up the crowds with their shouts, the soldiers maintain their speed as they gallop out of the town and into the open plains towards the thick, glowing forest. Their mounts were strong and adaptable to the mild, humid environment of Ephemera. Bi-pedal creatures with long trunks of legs that narrowed towards the hoof with massive bird-like pronged toes. The bird mounts had massive feathered wings, still incapable of lifting their enormous weight off the ground. They were equipped with sharp beaks and powerful legs that were capable of defending their rider from smaller ambush predators. Their large, feathery back sported a slender saddle for comfortable riding and with powerful legs they could run as fast as an Astartes assault bike. Each rider was equipped with an iron sword. The first two dozen men who rode out of the capital had shields on their backs, the last dozen carried long hooked, pikes on their mounts and bows and arrows on their backs. Night has swallowed the land, but the iridescent lights from the flora created a glow among the forest like the reflection of a glassy sea. The small raiding party had now completely left the limits of the city, and were galloping across the plains. The lead rider barked a hoarse command behind him, and the riders continued on until they breached the perimeter of the forest.
A scout had returned to the city earlier that day, covered in blood and sweat. Exacerbated and frightened that the 'Unholy Demon' has returned. Shrines existed all over the city and it is told in history that the Unholy Demon ruled over the planet a long time ago. The demon would eradicate all living beings from the planet until it was only metal. To prevent this recurring prophecy, the citizens have sacrificed grain, livestock, and even family members to the shrines that worship the Unholy Demon. Small towns have been mysteriously abandoned overnight in strange circumstances. It is rumored that the Unholy Demon has never left, and is gathering its strength to take back what was once his. The riders were tasked by King Opponop to simplify the concern and spread ease to his stressed and unhappy citizens. He was not worried about the prospect of this old fantasy-tale interrupting his comfortable rule. But still, he demanded a full force to be dispatched to quench any fear of doubt from his subjects. He was the true king here, not some imaginary prophet. He should be receiving the sacrifices his subjects were dedicating to this false power.
Earlier that day, the riders were deep within the luminescent forest. The lead rider raised his fist and the whole party slowed their pace to a halt. Each rider dismounted silently and made some clicking sounds to their mounts. The bird-like creatures snorted and ran back in the direction they came before splitting off into the maze of trees and bushes. The soldiers drew their weapons and crouched through the bushes together, advancing towards something. No creatures were in sight nor could any sounds be heard this deep in the forest. The night was piercing and the only light provided to them was the dim glow of the bioluminescence. They extinguished their torches long before they got this deep because any unnatural light will attract the deadly predators of Ephemera. Large grotesque creatures, only depicted in drawings due to the small percentage of living survivors or witnesses of the wicked beasts. But everyone knows they live within the never-ending forest, and to venture too deep is madness.
The hunting party approached a clearing together, but they remained in the cover of the trees. The lead warrior signaled to some of his warriors to spread to the flanks and protect their sides. It was here where the scout had reported unusual sounds and lights earlier that morning. But what they saw were only large crystals protruding from the earth in the center of the clearing, standing as tall as any of the warriors. The ground around the crystals was soft, unnatural, and much darker than the earth elsewhere. Each crystal was a transparent white, as if they were ice cubes that failed to melt. The warriors approached the clearing while still under the veil of trees and cover after being given the signal from the lead hunter. He was unique to the other warriors. His iron helmet was adorned with bright pointed feathers and he wore a flat wooden board over his cheeks that was covered in white and red markings of ancient tribal origin. A dozen warriors slowly breached the clearing towards the larger clusters of crystals. As the first few warriors stepped onto the new earth, their weight gave way under them and they plummeted into a deep cavern. The cavern was lined with obsidian black stone that was too perfect to be natural, and with edges sleek enough that insinuated craftsmanship. The cavern was too deep, and their screams and echoes were lost in the distance. The remaining warriors in the clearing braced themselves and looked around unexpectedly, when a moment later the lead hunter heard something so recognizable and faint but so real, that his muscles froze him in the bushes. He heard a soft release of a bowstring, and the whistle of an arrow. But none of his archers were aimed. What seemed like a frozen moment in time, but happened so quickly, is what the lead hunter and his remaining force witnessed from the trees. A silver bolt glimmered in the bioluminescent light from the other end of the clearing and it traveled at a frightening speed, faster than any of his warrior's arrows. It curved its path and impaled all 7 warriors in the semi-circle around the gaping cavern in the ground and returned to its origin in a blink of an eye. Each warrior dropped to the ground simultaneously with a wet slap against the soft grassy earth. His warriors panicked, some of them charged the tree line from where the attack came from, some archers knocked their bows and started sending arrows aimlessly.
The shouts of carnage and confusion interrupted the silence of the peaceful forest. Another bolt was fired with deadly accuracy. The handful of rushing warriors, swords in their hands and cries of battle from their lips, quickly fell to the ground with perfect holes in their chests as they neared the opposing tree line. This time the bolt continued on its warpath and disintegrated three more archers who stood in the clearing and impaled itself into the tree, a meter away from the lead hunter, still frozen in the bushes and unaware of what to do. Then suddenly, the spell was broken. He could feel his muscles responding to his requests, and he turned his head to look at the tree through the holes in his mask. The bolt was a brilliant silver, catching even the faintest of light from the glow of the trees. Inside it though, he could see that it contained an orange substance evaporating off the end of the bolt. The silver thing shuddered and vibrated as it expelled itself from the bark and back across the clearing from where it came just a moment earlier. As his eyes traced the dart, he now saw the carnage of the battlefield. Two dozen of his soldiers lay dead in the clearing, some with clean holes in their chest and others with severed limbs from the crushing force of that small but deadly bolt. He snapped, and suddenly was filled with the urge for action. He stood and cried out to his few remaining warriors and they huddled around him. The soldiers drew their shields into a frontal wall, stacked and overlapping each other in a defensive phalanx. They were taught this technique by the Imperium servitors ages ago, who helped them understand industrialization and farming, along with how to expedite warfare. They tried to teach them about the stars and the beings beyond, but they could not grasp the reality that was their own. They chose to worship their own ancient gods, a silver serpent, and a golden brute. The two were often depicted as the night and sun, ever competing and challenging one another. Here tonight, the lead hunter felt the condemning presence of the serpent.
There were 3 warriors in front of him, and 2 on either side with archers behind him. His remaining forces were gone and his shield wall would not be complete. He drew his ornamental brass sword and silver dagger and iron unit advanced into the clearing. The crystals from the caved-in crater were unmoved, exposing the true height of them. They plunged deep into the crater beyond sight, while some of them ejected from the pristinely carved obsidian stone walls. As the shield unit slowly moved into the clearing and approached the crater, the lead hunter peered his gaze into the cavern up close. The crystal spires shot down into the earth like drills and the obsidian black stone around the edges of the crater exposed an insidious inspired hull or aircraft of some sort hidden beneath the earth. But the stone wasn't exactly obsidian. It was much darker, and deep canyons and ridges were carved into it like monumental runes. A faint fiery glow lined the deepest recesses of the grooves cut into the stone, like it was alive. The lead hunter walked into the warrior in front of him, and he realized they had halted. He turned his gaze from the crater and saw a gleaming silver figure walking towards them from the trees. It was a tall, slender figure that glittered in the bioluminescence. It caught the light and glowed just like the bolt that decimated his hunting party. This figure had a ribcage of steel that was glowing from a raging, internal fire inside its chest. The figures' eyes were glowing orange and they lit up its skull-like metal face. They were exposed in the clearing. The encroaching figure seemed to not fear their attack, as it continued its slow, menacing march towards them. Attached to its hand, the lead hunter saw a device that he recognized as the bolt cannon, but it looked like a small crossbow. In the other hand, the figure held a massive weapon. A large, glowing purple scythe that thrummed with a static effect that distorted the air around it. It marched towards the shield wall, head down and uncaring. The lead hunter felt it's piercing gaze on them as mockery and let out a battle cry, the archers behind him let loose with their arrows. A storm of arrows hailed upon the metallic figure to no advantage. The figure only kept marching forward. Another hail of arrows pelts the ground around the figure and only breaks or bounce off its metal shell. This time, the figure raises his arrow hand, and the lead hunter hears that horrifying Whoosh again. The left side of his shield wall falls, as 3 of his warriors instantly die. The bolt pierced through shield, iron, and flesh multiple times over. He didn't understand how it was possible. He has never seen a foe or a weapon anything like this. His eyes widened and he felt the wood from his mask against his skin and he realized the true nature of his situation. This must be The Unholy Demon. He turned from his shield wall formation and started walking towards the direction they came. His head was down and he walked fast, trying to ignore the bodies around him. He could not run. His fear was too intense to allow such an activity. He was a hunter of game and an occasional warrior and defender of the capital. This was not a foe for him or his warriors to handle. He heard the gruesome shouts and cries of his remaining warriors as some of them met the figure head on in a charge, only to be greeted with a harsh swipe of the negative energy from that horrifyingly deadly scythe. The lead hunter heard the wet slicing of flesh and the agonizing screams of his dying warriors. He heard a metallic noise that chilled his spine. It laughed. More activity and louder screams urged the lead hunter to move faster. He stepped up his pace to a run and before he realized, he was now in the trees and bushes, alone and in the dark. He bent over and grabbed his shaking knees, gasping for air but struggling to get any. He was having a panic attack and the only thing he could hear were the dying screams of his kin. He felt hopeless and useless. He managed to bring a hand to his mouth and whistled. A moment later, announced by rustling bushes and leaves, his mount breached the clearing and was right at his side. He grabbed its neck straps and hoisted his leg and body over its large back, kicked its side with his heel and the beast darted back into the bushes towards the capital.