It took Sirus only one pass to realize the sorcery that had taken over their path. They were, somehow, walking inside a loop. Not a physical one, the cleared path to the abandoned night-sister hideout was a straightforward one, but some sort of metaphysical, psychic one. It appeared that, at some unknown but selected point, the warp-twisting abilities of either the planet itself or the Xenos warlord Sirus sought out sent the entire Astartes unit back to right before the assault they suffered.
Sirus realized this when the assault began again, right at the point in which it had happened before. He spotted movement, ordered his men ready, and he killed the first target. What had happened before repeated itself again, only this time Sirus's men were prepared and bloodied. The mercenaries they fought, however, were not so lucky. The fighting ended just as quickly as it took place, the Astartes knowing what to shoot at and how many real threats there were due to their experience beforehand. Not a single of their number was bloodied this time.
Sirus, bolt pistol barrel still smoking looked towards his men and issued a simple, direct order.
"We stop here. There is sorcery afoot. Until we can find who, or what is causing this, we must remain here, stay vigilant."
His men, just like Sirus himself, had realized what was happening the moment they entered this ridge again. They were veterans, after all, many of them had experienced similar when dealing with the foul forces of Chaos or even the reality-warping abilities of the Aeldari. The phenomena they faced now, no matter how strange, were not new. They knew if it was anything like before, that it would be resolved in time and patience, after all, even the forces of the Warp itself tired, something the Astartes knew all too well they could exploit.
The Sternguard Veterans on instinct formed defensive positions. Some of the hulking trans-human warriors waltzing up the near 120-degree stone and dirt ridge faces in order to observe the forests surrounding them. Others, namely Sirus, Aiolos, Izar, and Castor remained on the path below, 2 on each end of the path, guarding against any movement entering or exiting.
Izar and Castor stood side by side on the entrance end of the path, bolter and plasma gun alike ready to shed blood at a millisecond's notice. What felt like an eternity of chilled silence fell over the men, before finally, one of them spoke. Izar.
"Castor. I wish to apologize for earlier." Izar said, his wise voice hiding a tinge of regret. Castor simply glanced at his older brother, utterly confused at this sudden, uncharacteristic apology.
"Why are you sorry?" Castor could only blurt out in bewilderment.
"I judged you too quickly and harshly. I let my feelings cloud my reason, you have valid reasons to question the judgment of Captain Sirus, I simply didn't want to acknowledge them." Izar explained to his younger, less experienced brother. "I want to tell you a story, brother."
"Go on, please."
"I know many of us don't talk about our pasts, what it was like before we became what we are today. Some of us don't even remember it, hundreds of years of war drowning out even our earliest memories as members of the human race. But I remember where I came from, who I was as a mere mortal child, and what was done to me." Izar's eyes fixated on the barely visible form of this planet's setting yellow sun, the hue of the star's light filtered through his helm's many sensors and digitizers, a faded image, but one which still shined bright against the void.
"I was born on a distant, harsh agri-world. I was a nobleman's child, life was better for us compared to those who still worked in the fields, but it wasn't much. My family was a broken one, I had a father and a sister, her name was Serana. My mother was dead, she died giving birth to Serana."
"Our home was what many of the world dreamed of. A slice of the world's rich soil to call their own, their own farm, able to sustain themselves and their family off the food they grew, never again having to worry about the paradoxical starvation peasant farm work brought as you gave away everything you grew. But to me and Serana, it was hell. My father blamed us for our mother's death, he beat us every day, starved us to the bone. Our only respite was a garden our mother had left for us, slowly falling to pieces as my father and his servants neglected the thing until half of the plants were rotten and withered."
"Serana and I spent our childhoods, in secret, tending to the garden. Every day, under our father's drunken stupor, we would sneak out of the house and water the plants, trim the excess, keep what mother left us alive and beautiful, what she would have wanted."
"One day, Father caught us, one of his servants overheard us in the garden." Izar continued to stare at the sun as it finally dipped below the horizon, the light gone, leaving nothing but the crimson darkness in its wake.
"He blamed Serana the most for it, I think he hated her the most, blamed her for what happened to Mother. I guess he considered this the last straw. One night, she disappeared from the house. I looked for her the entire day after, finally managing to sneak out and get to the garden for one last time. I found a mound of dirt where a rose bush used to be, I dug it up using my bare hands. I found Serana in there. Cold, pale. Her mouth full of dirt, contorted in a scream I could have never heard."
"I tried to pick her up, tried to bring her back, I saw the dirt she was buried alive in vomit out of her mouth like an avalanche as I tried. She was dead. That monster killed her." Izar turned back to Castor, helmeted face concealing a face full of sorrow and despair. He felt the pain as if it had just happened, felt the despair and grief haunt him to this day, over 200 years later. Izar continued after a moment of silence.
"Months passed and nothing came of it. One day, though, the Emperor's Angels came to our world, seeking new recruits to bring into the fold. I fit their requirements perfectly, and one day the chapter, our Angellis Mentors sent Chaplain Osiris to induct me into the fold. The Chaplain inspected our household, looking for any signs of heresy or corruption. Of course, he found none. But, he did notice something that made his aged and experienced mind to pause. The manifest of this household talked of 2 children, a son, and a daughter, but he only found me."
"Chaplain Osiris talked to everyone inside the household, every servant my father had employed, and finally my father himself. All told the Angel that my sister had simply run away as children did, never to be seen again. He didn't believe it for a second. He finally took me aside and asked what really happened, and I told him." As Izar said this, he finally faced his younger brother fully, the radiant glow of his plasma weapon lighting the darkness.
"He killed everyone in that house, his cold rage exceeding anything I have ever seen, even to this day. When the deed was done, he dug up Serana, and torched the farm to the ground. After, he took me alongside several of the Marines under his command to the Planetary Govenor's spire. He forced the man to give Serana an actual funeral, in the plaza's own cemetery no less." Izar almost sighed, the Marine closing his eyes as the memory overtook him.
"You might question why I'm telling you about this all, Castor. Like all in this universe, my story holds a lesson at its core. This chapter saved my life, avenged my only friend, and I in the moment you criticized Sirus questioned if you were criticizing our very brotherhood itself. But I know now what you meant. Our chapter, like my old family before it, can be subverted by the abusive and cruel, or even the misguided and foolish. We must do our best to guard against it, as if we fail, there may be none to avenge those we turn against." Izar finished, his battle-torn yet forever sleek Mark-6 helm portraying a wisdom many seldom possessed.
As Castor nodded in response, a melancholic strength filling his body and soul, the marines' internal vox channel lit up as Brother Tabit began to exclaim.
"Brothers, I detected movement, eastern ridge 20 degrees north, 70 degrees east."
Izar nodded at Castor as he flicked the safety of his clunky plasma gun off. Castor did the same, following his brother as he made his way to Tabit's position above.