Chapter Two:

Traitors in the Dark

Terra would be his grave. Decimus knew this for a fact. He had seen it in his visions that he would die on Terra and it would be where he would meet the one who would kill him. It would, ironically enough, be a Blood Angel. The same Chapter that had previously owned the sword that was sheathed at his side. Aurum. His predecessor, Talos the Soul Hunter, had taken it from its previous owner and thus had made himself a target of the First Founding Chapter for this act. Ironically, Talos had not died at the hands of a Blood Angel. But Decimus would.

He saw it clearly without the pain that had cursed Talos whenever he saw visions of the future. He saw himself on Terra as if he was looking through the eyes of another. Decimus was on his back, his Mark V helm cleaved in twain and Aurum still in his grasp. Above him towered a Blood Angel with a Chain Sword and a helm whose grill had deformed into pointed fangs, the lenses of the helm were blood red instead of green. The true face of the beautiful sons of Sanguinius.

Decimus unsheathed the Power Sword and looked into its golden blade and its jeweled pommel, shaped into the symbol of the Blood Angels. Years and years of being wielded by a servant of Chaos and it hadn't lost its luster. It was said that Aurum dated all the way back to the Great Crusade and Decimus believed it.

"Another dream, Prophet?"

Decimus turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw Tarna, formerly known as Sister Bernadette, standing in the doorway of his cell, a smile on her face. He remembered a scared Sister brought aboard the Nightfall in chains and thought how different she was from the person he saw before him. Her white hair, formerly in a bowl cut, was now cropped short. Her eyes, once clear blue, were now pitch black. Her teeth had been sharpened to points and were even beginning to yellow. The self-afflicted changes had been spreading around the corrupted Sisters of Battle the Night Lords had captured. Not that it really bothered Decimus. In his mind, they were beginning to resemble their true selves underneath the pious exterior they presented themselves and that was just fine with him.

"The same one. I die on Terra."

"What are you going to do about it," she asked.

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"Because fate cannot be changed. I see the ends of all I meet and I know how they will definitively happen."

"Really?" Tarna stopped leaning against the door frame and walked into the cell and leaned over the kneeling prophet. "What about me? What do you see in my future?"

Decimus looked into her eyes and saw a woman lying on the ground in a pool of blood, a rictus grin on her face, her black eyes empty of life.

"You die smiling."

She pulled back from him, frowning. "Nothing else? You don't see who does it? That's disappointing. Some prophet you are."

She turned to leave, but before she could, Decimus asked her a question. "Why do you sleep with Kaius?"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "What?"

"He feels nothing for you. He cannot feel anything for you. He forces himself to even get himself into that state to be able to sleep with you. Why do it?"

Tarna looked away into the dark hallway of the Nightfall. "Because it passes the time and gives me pleasure. I know he doesn't love me. I don't love him. In a way I'm using him the way me and my sisters are being used for this upcoming war. We will die for Curze's dream of oblivion so why not have some fun. Besides... It's amazing how big one of you can get down there. I mean... I would have thought your kind would have them chopped off since you don't need them, yet... you have them."

"Please stop talking about genitalia."

She let out a cold laugh. "Aw, are you embarrassed? Or maybe a little jealous?"

"Leave, Sister of the Night."

She grinned her sharp teeth at him and nodded. "As you wish, Prophet."

Decimus wished they would stop calling him that. The true Prophet was dead. The Soul Hunter was gone and he would soon join him. He took off his Mark V Helm to look at his reflection in the blade. For an Astartes, his face was mildly handsome, despite the gene-bulking of his features. His black eyes had traces of light within them, though that could have been light reflecting off the sword.

He wondered what happened to the slaves that Talos had owned. The Navigator and the Mechanic. The Navigator had been pregnant when she'd run away with the Mechanic. Variel, the one who had more or less raised him up, had claimed that he'd tried to find the slaves, but they had reached Terra by the time he'd tracked them down and not even one as driven as him would risk attacking the Navis Nobilite. He'd found a child with psychic potential in the streets of Terra. A child that he'd saved from the Black Ships. A child that was the left hand of the Night Haunter.

"What happened to you, Septimus? Did you live a happy life? Did you become a father?"

It probably didn't matter. If Septimus and Octavia lived then they would soon be dead. A shame. Talos had liked them.

Terra

Pol Marten had lived in the Underhive of Terra his entire life. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the surface before he'd gotten his job as a refuse gatherer. It was hard, but it was a life and he'd managed to make something meaningful with his wife, Maria, and their children.

Then he'd gotten the message. War was coming and he was duty bound to do his part. Maria wasn't happy about it.

"You don't have to go!"

"I made a promise and you don't break a promise to a Primarch."

"A Primarch you've never met. You don't owe him anything for a promise your father made!"

Pol smiled up at Maria through his shaggy beard as she fussed over the stove of their hab unit. "I'll come home. I promise."

"Don't," was all she said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't make promises you cannot keep. People die in war and you could die. You'd leave me and the children alone just to keep a promise?"

Pol stood up and wrapped his arms around Maria. He could feel her tears as they fell upon his arms. "I'm scared too, dear. But this is bigger than me. This is for a better future. For you and for the children. Besides, you'll be taken care of. It's all been arranged. Even if I die, you'll have a new life."

Maria huffed and elbowed him in the gut. "You don't get it, you fool."

Pol knew what she meant but decided not to press the issue. A noise from behind him caused him to turn around to see Honsley and Lily looking up at him with concern in their little faces. He smiled down at them.

"Don't worry, children. Ma and Da are just having a talk. Hey, get washed up for dinner. Your Ma has worked hard to give us a good meal."

Later that night, when all were asleep, Pol got out of bed, kissed Mary and the kids goodbye, got his las pistol out from the secret compartment, and left the hab. He didn't want to do this to them, but he had made a choice long ago. A promise to his Da that when the time came, he would answer the call.

As he made his way through the Underhive, he kept an eye out for the signs that his colleagues would usually leave when there was word of a gathering. Their meetings were a secret of course so it was important that secrecy be kept and that the signs be subtle. Finally, he saw it. A man with a tattoo of three snakes on his neck sitting at an all night cafe for those that worked the night shift. Entering, he eyed the woman behind the bar who, after noticing him, motioned to the back with a slight jerk of her neck. Entering the backroom, he walked down a flight of stairs to the basement where he came upon the storage room. Inside were all the members of the Cult of the Hydra that could make it. There were about 50 in total, but their numbers were far greater than that. The Hydra had many heads, even when they didn't show themselves.

Pol spotted someone he knew and smiled, waving at her as he walked over. "Senna, glad you could make it. You got the signal as well?"

Senna, a pale skinned woman with dirty blonde hair and a scar on her right cheek, smiled at Pol. "Wouldn't have come if I didn't. How're Maria and the kids?"

"Scared. The kids know something is coming and Maria told me I ought to just stay out of it. It's not her fault though. She's an outsider and all that, but she told me it's not for her. How's Becca? She not happy with your involvement either?"

Senna nodded. "She gave me the same speech. I don't owe the Primarch just because my Gran did. Told her the same thing you probably did, 'An oath given to a Primarch is an oath to be held.'"

"Said something along those lines," Pol chuckled. The two didn't say anything for a bit. "You know we may not survive this, right?"

Senna nodded again. "I know. But we are who we are. We are the Cult of the Hydra and we serve the Alpha Legion."

"Hydra Dominatus," Pol said.

"Hydra Dominatus," Senna replied.

The Nightfall: Throne Room

Kaius watched as dozens of warriors of different varieties, human and transhuman alike, bowed before the throne of Konrad Curze, pledging their loyalty and their forces to the Night Haunter and his cause. The end of Terra was in sight and the Avatar of Malice was its harbinger. It wasn't just followers of Chaos Undivided that had come to the Nightfall. Warriors of Khorne, drawn by the promise of blood had pledged themselves to the Primarch. Khorne cared not from where the blood flowed and in whose name it was spilled.

Kaius had been surprised to see none other than Kharn the Betrayer himself at the head of a warband of 1000 World Eaters. The Betrayer had not given his fealty, but had said that he and his men would be there on Terra again. Curze accepted this without question. He knew where Kharn's loyalty lay. He was not about to question it.

Then a human in black and white armor with a spiked helm approached the throne. Beside him was a slave in plain robes with an explosive collar around its neck. The Warlord knelt before the Primarch while the slave spoke. It said that its lord, Xarax, was a worshiper of Malice and in honor of the God of Terror he had taken a vow of silence with his words transferred via an implant the master and slave shared. Through his slave, Xarax pledged his traitor Imperial Guardsmen to Curze and his cause. Curze accepted the Warlord and dismissed him to allow the next supplicant.

Kaius took a moment to look upon the Night Haunter. Dressed in full battleplate, Curze wore a cape of crow feathers with the fabled Corona Nox upon his brow. Thanks to its recovery, the Night Haunter was complete as ruler of the Legion and none would gainsay his word.

Kaius' black eyes widened in response to the one who entered the throne room to glares and silent curses. Erebus, the so-called Hand of Destiny of the Word Bearers and minion to Abaddon the Despoiler. Erebus was infamous in the Legions for having helped engineer the Heresy that had lead the Galaxy to its current state and to say he was unpopular with just about everyone in the room would have been underselling the loathing that emanated from the audience.

Not one person here could say that their encounters with Erebus, him being the snake that he was, were pleasant or helpful. Erebus was loathed and if the rumors were true, he was one of those that Kharn had designated as his targets. Kaius looked around for the Betrayer, but the World Eater Captain had appeared to leave the chamber, which was probably why Erebus had decided to enter. The Word Bearer knelt before Curze and bowed his spiked, tattooed head low.

"Lord Curze, on behalf of Lorgar Aurelian and Abaddon the Despoiler, I offer you my services in your Crusade of Terror."

Curze leaned forward to look at Erebus with interest, like a bird of prey scrutinizing a potential meal. "And why should I accept you, Serpent? Why should I accept one whose loyalties are as fluid as water? Why should I not alert Kharn to your presence so he can present your skull to Khorne?"

Kaius saw the Word Bearer twitch at his Primarch's words. So there was some truth to the grudge Kharn bore against the Hand of Destiny. That made Kaius smile.

"Because, Lord Curze, you will need my help if your attack upon the catacombs of the Imperial Palace and the dungeons is to be successful." The Primarch of the Night Lords looked impressed at Erebus' statement. "Yes, my Lord Curze, I have been made aware of your battle plans thanks to my Primarch and I have been charged by him to help you."

"You also said that you greeted me on behalf of the Despoiler. Does your other master wish some stake in this Crusade after all? I was under the impression he was uninterested."

"On the contrary, Lord Curze. Lord Abaddon wishes me to insure the safety of his prized Grey Knight specimen and its return to him once this is over. Epimetheus was initially procured at great cost and the Warmaster does not wish to lose him. He still has his own plans for the Grey Knight."

"And now your words cause me to believe that Abaddon expects this to fail, O' Hand of Destiny."

"He does, Lord Curze, but I am merely a messenger. I simply speak for him. Until this is done, my services are at yours and your God's disposal."

Curze's thin mouth spread in a smile that showed off his blackened teeth. "Then your service is accepted, Erebus. Welcome to my Legion of Terror. Welcome."

Erebus bowed to the Night Haunter and left the chamber, his head still bowed. He knew better than to turn his back to one such as Konrad Curze.

Then a parade of hedonism and excess entered the throne room lead by two Legionaries that Kaius had not expected to see. In front of a parade of slaves whose bodies had been modified to the point where their humanity and genders could only be guessed strode Lucius the Eternal and Eidolon of the Emperor's Children.

Both Legionaries were horrific in their own unique way to Kaius. Lucius' once handsome face was bald and covered in so many scars that it was hard to tell which patch of skin was bare. He wore armour that was more or less fused to his body and covered in the faces of those that had tried to kill Lucius, only to become the new vessel for his corrupted soul. But what unsettled Kaius the most about Lucius was his mouth. Due to the scarring, Lucius' lips had been eliminated completely. Combined with it being filled with sharp teeth and a long pointed tongue, Lucius looked less like the Legionary he'd been before and more a serpent in armour. At his side was the fabled Silver Blade of the Laer which had been given to him by the Phoenician himself. Wrapped around his right arm was the Daemon whip the Lash of Torment. Lucius was a true monster.

Eidolon, on the other hand, looked like a walking corpse. It was rumored that Fulgrim himself had killed Eidolon in a fit of rage and Fabius Bile had resurrected him. Looking at him, Kaius could believe it. His skin color looked like a mixture of purple and corpse gray. His skin was stretched out to the point where his mouth looked like it could barely close. His eyes were white as snow with no pupils or irises and what remained of his once long white hair were wispy strands.

Both were legends of their Legion and as was typical with those narcissists, they only bowed their heads instead of getting on their knees. Curze grunted for them to look upon him and they raised their heads. "Sons of the Phoenician, I thank you for gracing us with your presence." Curze's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "I expected you earlier, but apparently even the Emperor's Children are immune from my visions. I was also hoping that your Primarch would show some effort to come himself, but I know better than to expect Fulgrim to do something for someone else."

Eidolon replied in a drawling voice that sounded like he had just woken up from a long rest. "Lord Curze, we apologize for our lateness. We speak for our father when we say it is wonderful that you are back among the living again. He wishes he could be here now to greet and embrace you, but-"

"Spare me the platitudes, Corpsewalker. Fulgrim chose not to be here and that is that. What I need from you and your warbands is important and vital to my efforts to destroy Terra."

Lucius spoke this time. "Of course, Night Haunter. Whatever it is you need, we shall provide."

The sound of Lucius' voice, dripping with self-aggrandizement, made Kaius want to strangle him. He held himself back, knowing what the consequences would be. Curze ignored it.

"I need you both to delay the fleets of Guilliman and the Iron Hands. I need you to make sure their ships do not reach Terra. Do your best to delay them for as long as possible. If you can kill Guilliman again then that would be all the better. But the mission I have for you is delay. Delay them."

"My Lord," Eidolon answered. "We would have to split our fleets in order to do that. Neither the Iron Hands nor the bastards of the 13th Legion are anywhere close to one another. Our strength would be divided."

"I am aware of that, Lord Commander," Curze responded. "I also do not care. I want them both only delayed. Do you understand me?"

"If I may be so bold, Lord Curze," Lucius asked. "Why should we do this? We owe your Legion a debt of brotherhood, it's true, but we are not beholden to you as you are not our Primarch. Why should we risk our men for you?"

"Because I asked politely, Eternal One," Curze answered. "And normally I do not ask, but demand. It was partly because of my Legion that our victory at Istvaan V was a success. We came to your aid at your hour of need and I ask you to do the same. Think of it as you repaying an old debt that is long overdue. If you do not... well, my sons have ways of prolonging your existence without risk of one of them becoming your vessel."

The two Chaos Champions conversed silently to one another, though Kaius was sure that Curze could hear them. As good as an Astartes' hearing was, it was nothing compared to that of a Primarch. They both finished their short conversation and turned back to Curze. "We will do as you have asked, Lord Curze."

The two Legionaries bowed and departed with their entourage. Once the rabble were gone, Curze stood to address the crowd in the room. "My sons and nephews. My colleagues and friends. I thank you for your time. Now... I ask you to leave. I apologize for the request, but I have wars to plan."

Kaius noticed some confused looks on the faces of those present. Not for the suddenness of the request, but because of how polite it had been. Curze was not known for his politeness or his candor. He was about to depart himself when he felt Curze's hand on his shoulder.

"Not you, my son. Not yet."

Kaius waited until all were gone and the calm serenity on Curze's face left and the thin smile he normally wore returned. "You wish to know why I asked the Emperor's Children here when this war is, at most, persecuted by those who worship Chaos Undivided, don't you?"

"I will admit, Lord, that the thought had crossed my mind. We may be allies, but I think it's clear that they are an arrogant bunch of hedonistic degenerates and I say that knowing the methods of our Legion."

"Ah, you are correct in what they and we are, my son. The reason is because I know that they will fail. This time... Guilliman will reach Terra."

"Then why? Why bother?"

"Because Guilliman will reach Terra with at least half his number. Half of the assembled Ultramarines and their Successor Chapters will remain behind to fight Lucius' warriors, degenerates, and Neverborn to give their father time to reach Terra. The outcome will be the same for the Iron Hands, though less than four company clans will reach Terra and even then their numbers will be reduced. Their hatred for Fulgrim's bastards is great, as you know."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I have seen it. For days I have looked into the future to see what could and what will be. This future is the most likely for Guilliman and the Iron Hands to arrive in time."

"But why do you even want Guilliman there?!" Kaius was confused and troubled by his Primarch's reasoning. "Without his warriors, our chances of victory are greatly increased!"

"Because I want to make sure that when I kill the Emperor... Guilliman is on Terra."

"My Lord?"

Curze sank further into the cushions of his throne and closed his eyes. "Kaius... what do you think will happen if the Emperor is removed from the Golden Throne?"

"The Astronomican will fail and the Imperium will be unable to navigate through the Warp. We all know this, my Lord."

"Yes, but there is something else. Thanks to my soul's travels through the Warp during my death, I have learned some truths and weaknesses about the Throne. If the Emperor is removed, it will activate a Dead Man's Switch embedded in it which will in turn activate a doomsday device that will destroy Terra itself. This device was created by none other... than Vulkan. Under our father's direction, he made this as the last resort in case Horus won the war."

Kaius, for the first time in his life, felt true horror. "But... if that happens and our men are on the surface..."

"They will die," Curze said through his corpse-like grin. "As will I. I am sorry to tell you this, Kaius, but someone had to know and I know how good a secret keeper you are."

"But why?! Why do this just to kill the Emperor if you are going to kill your own sons?!"

"Because... I want to die, Kaius. I want to be free and I want to take them all with me." The Primarch's black eyes looked hollow as he stared at his hands, flexing his clawed gloved fingers. "I was at peace, Kaius. I was at peace, yet Kathal and his bastards saw a potential vessel for their fallen God. They resurrected me to be its Avatar and now I am nothing more than its slave. This body... it isn't even truly mine. The bones, the muscles, and sinew that make it up are all counterfeit. Stolen parts from Astartes or mortals infused with the Warp. The only thing of me that is truly mine from my previous life... is my skull and my soul."

He stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of his equerry. "Do you know... what the Warp is truly like when you are dead, Kaius? Often your soul is consumed by the denizens. However, if you are strong and favored by the Gods, then you will survive. It is the ultimate test of one's mettle if they are able to survive. Nine times out of ten, they fail, but the one out of every ten goes on to survive. That is where I am meant to be, Kaius. Not here in this meat prison. Only once I am there will I know peace from the visions."

Kaius was about to speak when Curze continued on. "And you... you, Kaius, will be there with me. I know you and the rest of my sons will survive there. You will all survive and together we will bend the Warp to our image. The Galaxy itself will be reshaped by us thanks to our influence on the Warp. And once we have bent the Galaxy enough... we will break it in two for Malice."

Kaius was at a loss for words. The Primarch... was truly mad. However, given that Curze had been resurrected against his apparent will and brought back to this hellhole of a Galaxy, he could not blame him. The thought of sacrificing his Legion brothers and cousins sickened him, but at the same time... it would be the true end. The war would be over and the Imperium dead. Chaos would reign supreme and mankind would meet its justly deserved end. He hated this existence of his. He loathed it with all his black soul and wanted an end to it as much as anyone else of his brothers. But did he have the will and fortitude to be part of its ending?

Kaius looked up at Curze and asked him a simple question. "Why tell me this, my Lord?"

"Because, Kaius, I know you won't tell anyone. I know you are one who can be trusted with secrets and I know that you wish the end of this life as much as me. Part of you will want to tell, but the rest will want to see what happens. To see if you are truly worthy of the Gods." Curze extended his hand to Kaius. "Work with me, Kaius. Work with me and become part of the true reality that is the Warp. Discard this existence and work with me."

Kaius hesitated as he looked at the proffered hand. After a full minute of thinking... he took it. "I will, my Lord. I promise you I will."

Author's Note:

It's been a while, but at last I am continuing. Burn out and Writer's Block are real and I hate them. It also doesn't help that I just feel tired most days thanks to work.

I was going to do more in this chapter, but I decided to narrow it down to a few points of view. Originally I had the idea for a Kharn narrated section followed by Erebus preaching to the Word Bearers, but I decided to incorporate them both into the throne room scene with Curze. Oh, Erebus, you backstabbing son of a bitch... I have plans for you.

In case you haven't guessed, I prefer the interpretation of the ending of the Night Lords Trilogy where Septimus and Octavia survive and live happily ever after and are not killed and their child stolen to be turned into Decimus. Some may disagree, but I prefer to keep some happiness in my grimdark future. I am surprised how much I got out of Kaius in this Chapter. While he is going with Curze's plan for mass genocide/suicide, there is going to be a part of him that doubts as the Campaign goes on. He's one of the few Night Lords to have a real conscience. Not much of one since he is a Night Lord, but it is there.

I will be writing at my own pace for now and hopefully I can get more done. But I don't wanna burn myself out and start to resent something I like. Thank you for the subscriptions and the favorites.