Thank you Aktis for the review, the first two chapters are meant to be Prologues, so I thought putting them all in Italics would give a more "flashback" feel.
The next few chapters will focus on Primarch II and his eventual rediscovery by the Emperor.
I hope you enjoy this.
The rain, light compared to most days, pattered down incessantly as it always had since time immemorial. It was the gift of Tempestas, the elders said. It kept the daemons chained beneath the ocean, and helped the people of Tempestas grow strong.
Thorondor lifted his face to the sky, enjoying the rain. It was cool and cleansing, as though all the cares of the day had been washed away, leaving him feeling purified and refreshed.
Not that Thorondor tired easily, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. His smile, ever-present on his face, widened. He knew he was different from the others; for one, he was only two, but he was already as tall and stronger than most of the boys seven years his elder, and he was as intelligent as the adults. His name was already being murmured about around Left Peak. Thorondor didn't particularly care for the attention, but his mother always told him to listen and learn.
"Up here again?"
Thorondor turned to see Gwaine, his closest friend. Seven years his senior, Gwaine was the only one who truly towered over him and could match him in wits and strength. He had once saved Thorondor from falling off the cliff and into the ocean, and had since took Thorondor under his wing. The two had become fast friends since.
Thorondor nodded his head in greetings, his smile widening, which Gwaine returned.
The elder boy sat down beside Thorondor, enjoying the rain. They could make out the shapes of the Storm Eagles swooping up into the clouds, their screeches audible even above the patter of the rain.
"It must be amazing," said Thorondor. When Gwaine turned to look at him questioningly, Thorondor continued. "To be able to fly into the Storm itself. I wonder what the world looks like from up there."
"But we can find out, Thor," said Gwaine, grinning. "We have to become Storm Riders! We'll bond with our own Storm Eagle and fly into the Storm itself and fight the sea monsters and the daemons of the Deep!"
Though the Storm prevented much travel between the various eyries that the people of Tempestas made their home, there were still enterprising and brave souls who had manage to salvage past technologies from older civilisations that enabled them to rebuild and repair old aircrafts capable of withstanding the Storm. It was through their efforts that travelling and trade between the eyries were made possible. But as with all things, there were others who perverted such technologies to suit their own selfish ends by raiding smaller and weaker eyries, attacking the travellers and traders.
The old aircrafts were durable, but they were slow and the heavy cargo they carried meant that only a handful of armed men could guard the vessels. The aircrafts purloined by raiders however, were free from such cargo and thus could carry more men and travel much more quickly. Security of the trade routes and eyries became a paramount issue.
It was during this troubled time, that the first men who had bonded with the Storm Eagles offered to take up arms to protect the trade routes and the eyries. The average Eagle was as big as an aircraft but was also much faster and their feathers were as hard as steel, capable of withstanding the guns of the raiders and their claws were as hard and as sharp as diamonds, capable of tearing apart ship and men alike. Using what little ancient technology they could salvage, the riders of the Eagles developed long powered glaives and wrist mounted bolters that enabled them to fight from the back of their mighty mounts.
Thus they protected the eyries and the trade routes, flying with such speed and ferocity equal to the Storm itself.
As millennia passed, they became known as the Storm Riders, the guardians of the people of Tempestas.
Thorondor's smile widened, he always loved listening to the stories of the Storm Riders. He always imagined himself riding on the back of a mighty Storm Eagle, wielding a glaive and a wrist-mounted gun, swooping down to slay sea monsters and raiders with Gwaine flying alongside him; Gwaine had to be there, or it would not be right.
"Yes, we'll be Storm Riders one day," said Thorondor. "We'll fly into the Storm and protect our people."
Thorondor got to his feet, laughing, his imagination soaring.
"I'll ride on the back of Garuda himself! None can stand before me!"
"Ride on Garuda himself! The only thing you'll be riding is a hot bottom for standing out in this rain like a fool!"
Thorondor turned; his imagination brought crashing down by the sight of his furious mother, Firiel.
The woman strode over and cuffed Thorondor on the head, having to hop a little as her son towered over her.
"Back inside, both of you!" snapped Firiel, aiming a cuff at Gwaine, who dodged, grinning widely. The two boys ran back to the entrance of the tunnels where the people of Left Peak made their home, a screeching Firiel hot on their heels.
II II II
Thorondor wiped himself dry with an old towel, smiling as he watched Firiel heat up some soup to help warm him up, muttering under her breath as she did. Thorondor did not feel the cold at all, or hunger for that matter, but he always allowed Firiel to fuss over him as it seemed to give her peace of mind.
And he rather enjoyed it.
"Here," said Firiel, handing him a bowl of hot soup. Thorondor thanked her and eagerly drank it, his smile widening.
"Honestly, what am I going to do with you?" grumbled Firiel. "I know you don't feel cold the way the rest of us do, but that doesn't give you the right to do foolish things like stand in the rain."
As he had grown up, everyone had immediately noticed how unusual Thorondor was. There was his unnaturally fast growth rate, but his maturity had also astounded the elders; not that it stopped him from doing stupid things like most children, as Firiel had often grumbled. But they also noticed other things; how any wound of his seemed to heal almost instantly, his incredible resistance to the cold temperature of Tempestas and the fact that he had never fallen ill at all.
Not even once.
"Am I unnatural, mother?" Thorondor asked.
Firiel blinked at the question before cuffing him lightly on the head. "You're human, aren't you? You've got feet, a mouth, arms and legs and all that? You're as natural as anyone else here."
Thorondor's smile widened. He loved his mother, everyone else treated him a little differently because of his unusual biology, but Firiel had always treated him like she treated anyone else. If anything, she was harsher on him at times, since he was her son.
Was he?
Firiel scowled and pointed at his face. "That smile of yours though, that's unnatural. You're always smiling even when you shouldn't be. Like now."
"Why shouldn't I be smiling now?" asked Thorondor.
"Well, I'm upset with you, for one," snapped Firiel. "Standing out in the rain like a fool. What if you had caught a cold?"
"I don't catch colds, mother," answered Thorondor, his smile never leaving his face.
"Yet," retorted Firiel, raising a finger to shush him. "Just you because you haven't caught one yet, doesn't mean you won't. Understand?"
Thorondor nodded. What Firiel said made sense.
"Of course, mother."
Firiel sighed and her scowl finally vanished. She cupped Thorondor's cheeks.
"My boy," she said. "What would you do without me?"
Thorondor's smile faltered a little, not quite vanishing. He put the bowl down and held his mother's hands.
"Mother…I've always wanted to ask, why am I so different?"
Firiel blinked. "You're not…"
"Please mother, I must know," insisted Thorondor.
Firiel stared at her son, looking into his storm-grey eyes which revealed maturity far beyond his years. Human, yet something far beyond as well that she could not name. It scared her at times, but Thorondor was her son, no matter what.
"Alright," said Firiel. "You weren't…born. Not as we know it."
"I know you adopted me, mother," began Thorondor, but Firiel shook her head.
"We know you weren't born," she continued. "Because we saw you arrive."
She took a deep breath.
"You came from the Storm."
Thorondor sighed. "Mother, we all came from..."
"No, no," snapped Firiel impatiently. "I don't mean the things the elders say. I mean you literally came from the Storm. You know about the Breach?"
Thorondor nodded in surprise. Every child in Left Peak had been taught about the Breach, a brief moment where a part of the Eternal Storm hovering over Left Peak had broke, allowing true sunlight to stream through, however briefly.
Firiel nodded. "The Breach happened because of you. You fell from the sky in some sort of aircraft; it broke through the Storm."
Firiel closed her eyes as she remembered that day. "I remember that was the first time I saw true sunlight…how warm it was. But if anything, it seemed to make the Storm angrier. It struck you with lightning, several times in fact. You crashed onto Left Peak, where I found you."
Thorondor was silent as he pondered over Firiel's words.
"So I am different…" said Thorondor, his smile fading ever so slightly. "I am not one of the Children of the Storm…"
Firiel's hands cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. Her touch was tender, surpassed only by her gaze.
"Don't you ever think that, foolish boy," scolded Firiel gently. "Whether you came from the sky in an aircraft, or born of a woman, Tempestas is your home. You belong to her as much as I do. We are all equal beneath the Storm."
Thorondor felt his heart swell with love for his mother. He took her hands in his own, easily enveloping them.
"Thank you, mother."