Chapter 10: The White Room


Fate was a ruthless mistress. Fickle and indiscriminate, its touch flowed through every event and made a mockery of even the best laid plans. It was vicious, cruel, and afflicted both great and small in equal measure.

He could feel it. In his heart, Horus knew it.

The Lupercal's lips pinch to form the unmistakable glower of paternal disapproval; a look traced from the patrician face of his father. But the resemblance was evidently lost on the creature before him.

It shook, panting and half-grinning like a lunatic. The diminutive beast was less than half his height, uncommonly short for a Terran equine. But so far as he was aware, Terran equines didn't possess coats of dark regal blue fur, or wear tiaras of twisted glossy obsidian, and they certainly didn't have them neatly perched atop star-spangled manes.

Yet, the perplexing creature had shaken Erebus from his sanctimonious diatribe.

'Hmm, what manner of beast would frighten you, my serpentine friend?'

No word, no matter. The creature makes a few hiccuped noises before the slightly widespread stance shifts into what could only be described as an attempt at formal poise: it brings its hooves neatly together, neck straight, chin tilted upwards in a pose cut straight from Terra's squabbling nobility.

And all at once, Horus's mask of a scowl melts into a sneer.

"We-"

"So," Horus abruptly cuts the creature short, "it seems even livestock can put on airs so long as they're draped in enough baubles." His snort precedes a half-turn as he regards his newest prison. For all the world, it was still a prison. The void was unfathomable, and yet calming compared to the tides that washed over the other malleable expanses.

Part of his mind returned to the earlier calm. It was suspiciously easy to forget two centuries of violence, the questions regarding would be assassins, the nature of Erebus's presence, and even the juddering fit at the sight of his uncaring father. When confronted, it had been too real to be 'just a dream'. But now it all gave him pause.

'When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago. Isn't that how you said it, brother?'

The creature, for its part, says and does nothing. He catches a glimpse of it blinking owlishly as it rears its head. The demigod flicks a hand at the beast dismissively.

"Go on back to your friends. I've no time to play."

It didn't move, it just stares wide eyed for a long moment.

"D-don't you just wave Us away like a shirk-work farm foal! We save you from spirits, and that is the thanks We get?! You ungrateful, pretentious... Who do you think you are?!" The creature's voice rises to a quivering crescendo with remarkable venom.

The glance back saw its wings spread, face convulsing with tremors. It sways back and forth, tail flicking in irritation as its nostrils flare, as if physically venting the insult.

He'd been called worse, though it had been many years, or in several cases, many drinks. It was remarkably refreshing, as even the stern glare and glower he adopted didn't faze the beast.

"I am the Warmaster, what I do is of no concern. Only the consequences should worry you."

A long pause passes between them as the creature continued to seethe and splutter indignantly after a few false starts. Horus's mind flickers through mental notes and possibilities regarding the unquestionably intelligent creature. But one good question gave rise to ten more.

"Hmm, but now you've got me curious," Horus begins with a gravelly rasp, "What manner of being would come to me at just such a time, in such a way? To what do I owe this sudden bout of 'good luck?' Hmm?"

The Warmaster smirks, looking her over with a studious glare, "Perhaps you are 'The Sagittarius'? The 'Simurgh'? Or are you the 'Pegasus'? Because, little one, I think you may need to practice some more."

The creature's fur bristled at each supposition, each 'title', and she narrows her eyes. But with a blink, that anger evaporates.

"You think We- I, am an illusion?"

With a breath she shakes her head, a knowing smile crossing her lips as she held some truth over him.

"Most likely a mental projection. I've seen warp-spawn before-"

She waves a hoof in the same mocking dismissive way he had. "No no. I am exactly what I appear to be, a mistress of dreams. Besides, if I was a mental painting, what would that say about you?" "

Blunt, quick, simple. But the question had caught him strangely, and he gently twitches his left hand, feeling a small golden ring with a peculiar depiction. It couldn't know. The demigod of war's sudden silence spurs her on.

"I'm here to help you. And I mean more than just the usual advice to 'work on your anger management problems,' like any other pony."

'Weren't you the one to insult me less than a minute ago? Hmmm, not the most self aware. Or perceptive.' Horus's eyes stayed with the strange creature as it blithely continues.

"No, there's something else. You were in danger, and like a snake oil salespony, others were plying you for an immediate answer. "

This creature circles the Warmaster, but didn't look to him. Rather, she lifts her eyes to gaze into the blank white void, staring as if searching for corners that didn't exist.

"And you wouldn't? What do I owe for this little 'intercession', hmm?" Horus never let his back turn to her.

"No, and nothing. I'm here to give you as much time as I can so you might make your choice."

Horus chortles, "Why? You don't look like the typical sort that would try to lick my boots hoping to curry favour."

The equine harrumphs and flicks a tail like a whip. But he quirks his head to the side as a thought bubbles to the surface, "Russ has a particular talent for such things, you know."

The equine answers through clenched teeth without looking, "I've seen your kind before, and I've made a choice much like yours. Oh," she snorts, "and no. I have no interest in being your hoof licking sycophant, you likely have more than enough of those and I wouldn't stoop so low."

Despite himself, despite her, the Warmaster laughs. A flicker of a smirk crosses the patrician face unguarded. "You're short enough that you wouldn't have to stoop too far, little horse."

Luna's bristles as she rounds on him. She scrunches up her muzzle, blazing teal eyes saying she'd had enough. But eyeing him up and down, she settles with, "You might get away with that with everypony else, but if any beast calls me 'that', one, more, time... I'm going to make them listen to all one hundred and five acts of Lion Quichener's Lily every night for the next thousand moons." A small mirthless smirk had her finally meet his golden eyes, "And I know just the soprano that can break glass from a league away."

There was just a moment of silence before the Warmaster's bass guffaw breaks the veil. "Not one to let an injustice or insult stand, are you?" For a fleeting instant, he swore he glimpsed a grin stretch across her muzzle.

'How quaint. It acts like us.'

There was more to worry about. The demigod's hand roved his chest, searching for wounds. There wasn't so much as a scratch on his armour where the assassin's poisoned blade had found its mark.

"You won't find it. You don't take physical wounds with you to my domain."

Horus groans, but testing his shoulder he felt nothing. "Do you speak from experience, or should I listen to you as some 'divine dream goddess'?"

"No. But you are the second to ask that." She ruffles her feathers, replying with less impetus after a moment. "I'm just a pony. A pony makes mistakes. I, make mistakes. But we can make up for them too."

"As I said, I am the Warmaster. The Warmaster doesn't make mistakes."

"Well, how nice for you."

He continues without pause, "And I suppose other 'just ponies' typically wear tiaras and invade others' minds, do they?"

She turns back, taking a steadying breath. "I'm a princess. This is my talent. Understand, Horus Lupercal, for everything I can do here, there is still danger. I have bought us time. Time for you to think, time for you to reflect. If there's something you need, I'll provide it, but they will come for you again. Until you awaken, you are in danger. I'm here to protect you for your own good against their machinations. They're clever enough to know these magics."

"Magic, magic magic. It's always magic and sorcery. Why do my ephemeral guardians constantly feel the compulsion to determine exactly what it is that 'I need'? Father, Magnus, Lorgar if I'd have listened to his fastidious ramblings, and now a diminutive princess-" she glances sharply at him, "pony."

"Luna."

"Hmm?"

"My name is Luna."

"Is that so?" Horus barely hides the subtle vein of mirth. "How remarkably convenient."

She tears her eyes from him as he placidly flexes his immense frame. The demigod's armour whirs and clicks with every roll of his shoulders, a rare moment of unguarded reflection as every muscle and joint is tested in turn. She hadn't lied about the physical wounds being absent. No pain, no weakness, he was in perfect health. The slight hum in the back of his mind had slipped away undetected at some point. And with it, his ire had even drained away.

Glancing down, his eyes catch the miasma of the princess's swirling mane. She wasn't a beast of burden, but was she some faceless witch? Some warpspawned mystic?

Moreover, she didn't ask what he'd meant, but he was sure he caught her flick an ear in other directions like a damocles dish. 'Would a treacherous warp-beast allow itself such an easy tell, or make use of such an obvious bluff?' There were a thousand and one possibilities about what she could be, not all of them were terrible. Merely most of them.

"I would have thought, if appealed to, my guardian would have come in the guise of a great wolf."

Luna's ears flick up, then around, alert and attentive once more. "You're still thinking that I'm not what I appear. Sure, I could turn into a wolf, I could vindicate you. But what I am, here and now, is who I am." When she finally turns, Horus catches an unblemished flash of genuine empathy in her teals eyes. "You've seen enough masks today, Including your own."

'She's not one of Magnus's minions. Interesting.'

A distant howl and raking scream whispers past, quiet as the breeze.

Luna's breath hitches. "I thought we might have more time."

"First Chaplain Erebus is nothing but persistent."

"It's not that. They're desperate."

Luna's horn glimmers with a soft blue flash, opening up a starry expanse stretching over a quiet forested hillock. The fragrant breath of a countryside breeze whisks falling maple leaves into the white expanse. "We can run from them for a while and buy you more time. But they will come, Horus. You're too valuable for them not to try again. Still, it is your choice, and whatever that choice may be, I'll be by your side."

Horus eyes the portal into the night-dappled landscape. It was soft, it was unchanging, even a little bit inviting. But so too were all the others, at first. And yet this was more than they had been. It had a certain verisimilitude that he hadn't found in Erebus's facsimile stages.

Horus stares into the starry night sky, the first traces of a smile crossing unguarded across his lips. He notes, but readily dismisses the ponies perplexed and then perhaps satisfied glimmer of a smile.

"Forgive me if I were to say I'd have preferred Sanguinius by my side. He would know a Luna Wolf does. Not. Run." The warmaster reaches for the empty scabbard on his hip, but even without the hilt of a blade, his smile was absolute. "And they're not cowed by a few ghostly voices. Go and run along, little princess, I have a few things to say to my so-called friend."

Luna sighs and bobs her head. It didn't conceal the smile. And noiselessly, she canters to the Warmaster's side, "I had a feeling you wouldn't."

His eyes fell on her as she glances at one spot straight ahead of them. Like plaster falling from a buckling wall, the void begins to break apart.

"You're a stubborn one, for pony's sake."

"So I've been told. Yes." He folds his arms, glaring at the crack as he stood like an ancient Imperator before the tide of barbarians. From the corner of his eyes, he catches the equine staring at him

"Hmm... very similar."

It was just for a moment, but he was certain there was an unguarded shiver all but radiating out from her. Thankfully, she covers it with the haughty impasse of a bored noble in moments.

The swirling maelstrom of colour and writhing forms beyond the opening rift wriggle and struggle to find purchase. Claws shear through, and more ragged cracks drag down their as hooked talons rend the veil. The portal to the other dreamscape closes behind them, out of sight and mind of the ravening host.

"Lord Lupercal!" The voice resolves itself as if from everywhere inside the white chamber. "I meant you no ill will, I'm here to protect you and guide you, my Warmaster. Nothing more."

The Warmaster inclines his chin just a touch, "It seems you've brought some new acquaintances with you, Erebus. I seem to have come by one myself. Why don't you come in here? Oh, and Erebus? This time, if you show me a face that's not your own, I'll tear it off. Then perhaps I'll keep going until I find one more to my liking."

Luna's sigh is far less dramatic, "Stars help me, I'm in league with a thespian."

The wall cracks and soon the gnawing holes eat through the featureless white void. The first beasts, jibbering amorphous blots of incandescent blue and purple flame, flicker on the other side.

Horus's unflinching features never shift, the tension in his form absorbed in a scowl to darken even the white expanse.

"My lord, I merely wish for an audience to presen-"

"If you wanted an audience, Mal would have seen to it. Don't mock me, Erebus."

Despite the spat response and incriminating glare towards the breaches forming from the void, the response came soft and almost condescendingly. "My lord Warmaster, surely you know that such couldn't be left to lesser men. Even someone such as your equerry would surely-"

"Turn down your ramblings?"

For the first time, Erebus's voice hesitates. The first fiery spirit slipped into their white vault, and with a crack, the wall splits.

"He, like all the others, would understand in time. My Lord Warmaster." The reply was sharper now, the pomp draining like poison from a wound. "But to suggest that your erstwhile father is at the heart of a conspiracy so dark, so foul.. well, they would make mistakes. And a Warmaster does not make mistakes. You may keep the secret-"

"He has a forked tongue, Horus."

Luna's interruption was quiet but stern. It was yet heard by Erebus, his breath hitching.

"Be quiet and mind your betters. Your upstart meddling to deny Horus the truth-"

"Why are you consorting with dark spirits, sorcerer?" she queries once again, lofting a brow.

"Lord Warmaster," the formless voice splutters in rage as more of the kindled spirits leach through and mill around the cracks in the void.

Horus swiftly hides the burgeoning smirk. This little warp-witch had a talent for irritating the Chaplain. But more than that, she had a point.

'What are you playing at, Erebus?'

"Horus, this thing is a damnable warp parasite, an astral witch. It can't be trusted. Especially, not with a matter of this importance. The future of the entire galaxy hangs on your decision!"

Horus shifts, taking a half step closer to Luna and letting his arms drop from his chest to his hips.

"Our little princess here asked you a question, are you going to simply ignore a noble? Just what are you doing consorting with warp-xenos? Are you not one of the Emperor's heralds? And if you won't answer her, then answer me: if I'm not supposed to consort with 'warp parasites', what precisely are you doing?"

The short pause led to more of the ember-like beasts slipping through the festering rift like flies darting to an open wound. Their very presence acts like cinders to paper, turning the pristine white as black as pitch. And there, amidst the swirling blackness on the other side, stands the armoured form of the Word Bearer's First Chaplain.

Erebus stood surrounded by a small cabal of the primal simian creatures. And as much as they tried to stay in the shadows, their silhouettes were hardly inconspicuous.

"I am patient, Horus. I am studied. I know the ways of the warp. I can only tell you that this insipid creature that latched on to you means nothing but harm. Harm for you, and harm for humanity."

"Tis a lie! You would approach him in the darkest hour hoping to catch him un-"

Horus reaches down, pressing the shaking equine's rippling mane and having her unintentionally push back in a degree of subliminal irritation.

His sideways glance had the princess staring up at him with a scrunched muzzle. Her teal eyes search his, asking an unspoken question. 'Why are we talking to him?'

'Because, little horse, I'd rather the serpent tie himself in knots.'

Evidently, Erebus had taken the pause as permission to continue.

"Lord Warmaster, you have seen the truth of your fathers betrayal. The Emperor cares nothing for your wellbeing. He'll use you then dispose of you as soon as it suits him. He can not be trusted, my lord. You know this."

"You're right, Erebus." Horus's flinty gaze bores into the man beyond the rift. "My father can't be trusted. And yes, he will dispose of us all if it suits him. He is untrustworthy. I won't stay under the yoke of a lying fraud!"

The chaplain sighs and bows, "I thank-"

"So I damned well won't be under yours, either!"

Amidst the sudden shift, the howl of ephemeral winds span the length and breath of the formless chamber. The wall shudders as more cracks form, and from a dozen meters up, a pair of bestial red claws tear through the forming gap to pry the world asunder.

"I'm not a puppet, Erebus. And I'm certainly no dog that you can command to heel." Horus balls his fist and locks eyes with the First Chaplain. The warning growl was as deep as a landslide, "But I am Horus Lupercal, Warmaster, the Breaker of Tyrants, and Primarch of the sixteenth legion! I am the Wolf of Ash and Fire! If you want a war, Erebus, I'll let you have the privilege of being its first casualty!"

The room shakes and the jagged tear splits the entire breadth of their chamber. The ground shudders as billowing sulfurous smoke spews from the wound in reality. More of the fiery spirits spill into the enclosed space, turning everything they touch to slopping strands of twisted black ichor.

"No. No, Horus. This war started long ago." Erebus's haphazard glance back at his simian enclave sends them away. "When your father made a bargain he never fulfilled."

The sudden quiet musical chime and soft weight on Horus's shoulder was an aberration to him, and he steals a glance down to the creature at his side. It felt like a hand though nothing was there, save for a fading blue glow.

She draws a breath at the same time as the walls tear apart under the grip of a monstrous pair of claws. A bestial muzzle wedges itself into the breach, widening the crack further. Its breath rushes in like a wind from a furnace as its open muzzle reveals rows of razor fangs. The sound of massive wings beat the air as the protective white barriers crumble under its grasp.

Beyond the buckling barriers is a rocky hellscape of boiling blood, molten bronze, and red skies.

"Horus," Luna asks with a deceptive calm, eyes locked on the enormous daemon, "You don't have a blade, do you?"

"No."

"Ceifador!" The halberd materializes into shape, cut from the gathering darkness in crystaline sheets. With a hum, it hovers in front of Horus. "Then you may need this."

He arches a brow before reaching out to take the summoned blade. "I was willing to bet that little needle on your forehead wasn't for show. But Ceifador, 'the reaper'? Really?" He doesn't even try to hide the smirk as he twists the halberd, sending it into a whirring arc as the Princess stiffens. The primarch nearly had to look again when he spotted the fur on her cheeks bristle, exposing a faint ruddy hue. "Now who's the thespian?"

Erebus's sibilant whisper echoes from the hot blast of wind blustering in from the hellscape, "No matter, Horus, you have nine days to see the truth. I am a patient man; and in dreams, a second might seem like a year, and a night might be as a lifeage. I have all the time I need."