Ancient dreams

Time passes him by, as he delves into memories merging into the depthless well of sleep. He is no longer certain where one ends and the other begins. If not for the title and mantle he carries on his shoulder, he would have long embraced the loss of self within the ever-recurring, ever-changing facets of fragmented past. He must not allow that luxury. Even if it pains him, even it it tortures him, he will not give in. He will endure, and in enduring, forge himself into an all the more deadly instrument. He will fulfill his duty.

There were others like him, once. Their faces, their purpose were known to him, even if they have not met in person. As always, the past unfolds with brutal clarity, and as countless times before, he has to watch them wither and die one after the other.

Rulership fell first, when the enemy exploded from dark space, and laid claim to the heart of the Empire. For all his might, Rulership was never one to act in haste, and the sudden viciousness of the attack robbed him of his chance at defiance as well as his life.

Understanding was the next to perish; her sacrifice making it the subtle dangers of the invading machines painfully clear, as her very self was distorted into a broken shell. Yet even then, she lived up to her title, and did not turn into blind Thralldom - she understood, and as always, acted on that understanding, giving her people a much-needed glimpse of hope that even these god-machines can bleed, as the last effort of her will tore apart the Reaper that enslaved her.

Defiance died as she lived - with courage in her heart and a curse on her lips, as she lead her ever-diminishing fleet in dozens of battles, hoping against hope to draw enough of the Reapers away so that her people had a chance to regroup, to strike back. With the Empire crumbling around them, more and more of their people falling under the sway of indoctrination, she fought on, extracting a tribute in blood for every system, every planet, every city that fell to the accursed machines. She did so for over half a century, and when finally cornered, a whole star system became her funeral pyre, and she made sure to take numerous Reapers with her.

From Defiance's shadow came Endurance, who tried to take up the reins of the dissolving Empire, without much success - too much has been lost by then, too many key systems had been obliterated or turned, and Endurance could do no more than try to slow the inevitable end.

As the Reapers systematically dismantled the Empire, their insidious whispers warped the minds of those who could not or would not learn from the fate of Understanding. Apathy arose, along with Submission, the two turncoats giving a vain, false hope of peaceful coexistence with the nightmarish overlords. After all, would blind servitude not be preferable to extinction? He was never sure if they were simply misguided or mad - not even when he took on the mantle bestowed upon him by Endurance, and ended the lives of the miserable, traitorous wretches, avenging all those who followed them to damnation.

From that brief moment of unification, Glory was born, and he gave new direction, new hope to the remnants of the once mighty Empire, to endure long enough for a last moment to shine in their ancient glory, to carve a memory in the heart and mind of the Reaper armada - and to prevent the accursed machines from realizing that Vengeance would not be denied, and would await them at the next Harvest.

Of course, in the end, they were betrayed, and the dreams of Vengeance have been haunted by the trillions of souls howling for retribution.

Even in his present state, he bared his teeth in a snarl. He would make the Reapers pay, and at long last, the Vengeance of a dead species would break the eternal cycle.

The souls of the dead would accept no less - and his own purpose would not allow anything else.

A/N: delayed by IRL workload, sadly. Will try to finish next chapter soonish.