AN: Holy shit. My fingers are on fucking FIRE BOYS. FIREEEEEEEEEEEEE. The huuuuuuuuuge support for last chapter got this one right where I want it. I'm fucking juiced right now. Still kicking tho, so next chapter is also in the works already.
More stuff at the bottom!
Enjoy 3
She was kneeling before the altar, her hands pressed together in a sign of reverence before the Emperor's effigy.
The first floor of this church, the only one onboard The Indomitable, was bereft of pews and seats. So like Vanella, everyone else in the place was forced to pray from the floor. These hooded sisters of the Adeptus Sororitas had the Helios native surrounded, her unofficial guard for her time under Rykehuss.
The same Inquisitor that had taken her from the graveyard that had been home.
Snatched her up in the night before he concluded his business with the world. And as this cruel man departed her home world, Vanella was taken with him.
A part of her was sad to be stolen from her home.
A smaller, but much more honest section of her mind, remarked on how fruitful this unintended escape was.
Helios had become a sad shadow of its former glory.
The Citizens had turned upon one another. Neighbors accused one another. Calls to prayers were now rallies of fervent faith. Zealotry and madness was rampant. There were regular executions conducted in the streets by the bolstered PDF.
Trust was gone.
Hope had vanished.
The world had become a mirrored shape itself, draped in cruelty and unforgiving malice. It's golden fields had lost their shine…
Keeping her composure, Vanella Castelius forced the quiver from her hand as her eyes remained fixed upon the statue of the Emperor.
She quietly prayed for her family, her brothers and parents slain by the Cultists before she was taken out to their Ritual site.
She prayed for Titos and Lucian, her friends lost to the chaos of it all.
She prayed for every poor soul that Rykehuss had set his eyes upon.
The young woman's voice was softly pressed against the silence of her guard, this small moment of prayer allowed at her 'Master's' whim.
When not in his presence, Rykehuss allowed her the veneer of freedom. The truth of this freedom was that Vanella wore a short leash, her actions ever under the scrutiny of those that held it.
The thumps of bootfalls grew from behind her.
Her hooded guardians gracefully found themselves to their feet at the approach of this individual.
"Stand"
Vanella kept the growl of anger down at the command directed at her, finding a respectful pause in her prayer before she too stood.
With a graceful turn of her heel, Vanella met the eyes of the one that approached her.
The hooded figures were the rank and file warriors at the beck and call of Inquisitor Rykehuss, the Sisters of this particular Order.
But the one which lacked a hood, her white hair and wizened features clearly displayed for all to see, was their leader.
The Canoness Preceptor.
Vanella knew of the rank, and what it entailed. However they were not on a first name basis, let alone a full name basis.
"Leave us" the cold cobra of a woman demanded, her frigid tone almost snapping against the very air.
The shadows of her guard vanished in moments.
"Follow"
She spun on her heel, swiftly striding toward the exit of the church. Vanella was quick to keep up. Rykehuss was a man who believed in corporeal punishment, to the extreme. Even though Vanella had not been subjected to such horrid torture, she was not willing to test the man.
Nor his subordinates.
She was, however, willing to speak up.
"Where are we going?"
Her question was strong and forward. She did not let fear coat her tone.
Normally when she was done with her evening prayer she would be escorted to her cell, the small metal space that was masquerading as her room.
"The Lord Inquisitor has requested your presence" the Canoness practically hissed, "keep up"
Vanella ignored the vein of ice that crawled down her spine.
Rykehuss was going to do… something. From everything she'd seen from the man, the Inquisitor was a cruel monster. He probably had something equally nasty up his sleeve for Vanella.
The young woman couldn't help but remark to herself;
'My luck had to run out eventually'
Even though it has been expressly stated that she was not in trouble, Fey could not help herself as her eyes darted between the Asureah Guardians that flanked her mostly steady walk.
Their near crimson toned Mesh Armor dusted with highlights of golden-orange adjusted silently with each step they took beside the Seer. From beneath their helmets, Fey could only imagine they were keeping equal vigilance on the pathway they traveled, and the individual they traveled with.
Fey had to remind herself of her Teacher's words.
'We must speak with the Council. You are not at fault here, but we must seek guidance'
The Warlock who had spoken this to her, Bhaine Dhun, was an odd Master. At least, the oddest one the young Aeldari had ever had.
Fey had walked the Path of an Artisan before her abilities had manifested. It was Dhun who had taken the young Fey Ansgar under his wing, helping her along the viciously watched Path of the Seer. She supposed that such a path naturally produced more, eccentric, individuals, due to the inherent dangers associated with it.
Since her first day under his tutelage, Fey had not spent much time out of her Master's reach, and the one time she had… of course that was when a vision had possessed her.
It had come to her without preamble or warning.
A sight of the future, a direction forward into the unknown… and the Warp had howled at the secrets of time being revealed so carelessly.
Dhun had forcibly pulled her from the Sight, the Seer nearly having been taken by the Dark Forces of the Warp.
He'd felt the power coiling around his Apprentice and hurried back to coax her to safety.
In doing so, he had witnessed a fair chunk of what Fey's mind had been subjected to.
While a powerful Warlock, Dhun's skill only went so far. He was not prideful enough to believe he could divine the best direction from here on out. Nor was he ready to unpack what both he and Fey had witnessed. Not to mention the parts he missed, the sights she had expressed to him in fearful yet hope filled tears.
And so the Farseer Council was summoned.
Dhun had departed Fey's chamber within the Seer's Shrine, his thunderous step taking him quickly out and across Craftworld Kaelor.
Word must have reached the Sentrium, the political heart of Kaelor, as the Kaelorian Guardians had appeared promptly.
And so Fey Ansgar had been escorted to the center of all power at the heart of her Craftworld.
Even though she walked freely to the destination, she felt as if chains hung from her limbs. The people of Kaelor looked at her as she passed with her guard, the whispers and comments kept within their gaze, only to be released once they were certain that Fey was out of earshot.
She was a daughter of House Ansgar.
Regardless of the fact the Great Houses were at peace once more, the people of the Craftworld feared her forebears and the destruction they had so willingly wrought.
Many perhaps thought she was receiving punishment.
And even if her Teacher had said otherwise…
Fey felt as if she were to be punished.
Bhaine Dhun, Warlock of Craftworld Kaelor, found himself amused at how grumpy the Farseer council appeared to be.
Not all of them, but enough to draw a self indulgent grin from the Warlock.
Awoken at such an hour that they were more than likely deep within a meditative sleep, it appeared as if only Ela'Ashbel and Elvor Rivalin maintained some semblance of composure.
If the calling of them had not been under such dire circumstances, Dhun was certain he would have been giving a verbal lashing for such a late conveening.
As each took their seats in the towering thrones of marbled white and black that surrounded the dias he stood upon, Bhaine looked over each face before him.
It had been some time since he had brought something before the Farseer's. But the council's chamber was a familiar place to him. He had long since memorized the varying details of the room, its luminous and unseeable ceiling, the sparsely decorated walls and the dias he now stood upon.
The dias itself, if one could call it that, was a flat space, a disk where each seat occupied by the Farseer council of Five was arrayed around to provide perfect sight of the one that stood at its center.
It was ringed by a soft break in the white floor, a circle that defined the dias as only a few meters in length, and slightly depressed into the ground.
Dhun knew these intricate details for he had been in this room often.
He had been standing in the very same place he now occupied once more.
But gone were his younger years of prophecy seeking and risk taking… where he would have been brought before the council a needless number of times for a long list of offenses.
Now the faces of the Farseer council looked to him with respectful understanding. He was no longer a child in their eyes.
"Warlock"
It was Farseer Faenris Anyon, of House Anyon, which broke the silence of their gathering. Dressed in robes of Red and Orange and lacking her Warhelm, it appeared for all intents and purposes that the Farseer of House Anyon had recently woken from her sleep.
"Tell us of your Vision," the tired Farseer causally ordered, her head tilting ever so slightly as she subtly relaxed in her throne. If it was appropriate, Dhun knew she would yawn and slouch in her seat.
"This Vision is not Dhun's"
Elvor, the oldest of the Council, his hair tied into a black traditional bun atop his head, leaned forward in his chair to study the Warlock. His keen eyes bore into Dhun's own. The council had been summoned due to the discovery of a Prophecy, yet Elvor was keen enough to note the truth of where it came from.
Bhaine opened his mouth to speak an affirmation, to name the individual that was most certainly approaching the Council Chamber as he spoke, but his words were stolen.
"Fey"
Dhun met the sightless gaze of the particular Farseer that had spoken. Even though her eyes no longer functioned, an eternal wound delivered by a servant of the Ruinous Powers, the Warlock knew that he could be seen.
Ela'Ashbel saw with a sight beyond Dhun's own. Perhaps beyond any of the Farseer council, including Elvor. Great power and the will to control it had naturally come to the former daughter of House Ansgar, and even though she had stepped away from War for some time….
Dhun had been young when he had seen Ela'Ashbel's dispense her rolling fury upon the enemies of their people. Even from a memory so long ago, the act had imparted a small shard of fear within him, a piece that had ever since.
Fear of the Farseer.
But his fear tangled with other controlled emotions.
One's that he would never admit to any living being until the last day he drew breath.
"Fey has awakened her Sight" the most powerful member of the Council spoke, head turned towards the gilded door of their sanctum.
Dhun nodded dumbly at the words, his eyes running between the members of the council before settling back on Ela'Ashbel.
Her long strands of crimson hair ran down across her shoulders and collarbone like rivers of blood, the color of which mirrored the earthly green and white tones of her dress.
A face mask of green grafted her chin and a slight portion of her cheeks, the deeper forest color standing out against her pale skin.
Ela'Ashbel's eyes were luminescent pools of blue power, the wafting and swirling energies contained within her gaze slowly tumbling over one another in an endless show of ethereal beauty.
Many had fallen in love with Ela'Ashbel with naught but a glance toward her.
Dhun knew this to be true.
For he was one of them.
The Warlock bowed as far forward as decorum allowed, his eyes caught to the hem of Ela'Ashbel's dress as he answered.
"Indeed, Farseer. It happened only hours ago"
"What of the Vision?" another of the council cut in, "what was witnessed?"
The wispy yet solemn question came from Ela'Ashebel's former mentor. Cinnia Yuthran, of house Yuthran. Black haired like her Rivalin cousins, the Farseer was clothed in brown and orange robes, a considerate look upon her wisened yet sharp features.
"I saw enough to call a meeting" the Warlock replied honestly, "but it is best you hear from Fey herself"
"And what reason is there to indulge another daughter of the Ansgar?"
Isennel Ossian, the ever present pessimistic point of view, had a naturally irritating voice. This didn't help the rational value of his vocal objection, but it did give the council time to debate amongst themselves.
Bhaine knew how the words would be taken. The Farseer of House Ossian was swathed in a decadent lifestyle so unlike the rest of his kin. But Isennel's family only did so as curators and caretakers of the Aeldari's greatest works. Art, clothing, weaponry, music and culture, all fell under the Ossian's purview.
They were the most lavish of historians, never permitted to enjoy the pleasures and beauties that they cultivated, merely remain as vigilant caretakers.
But his words were bearing a fiery truth.
The Warlock knew what it would bring forth.
Especially since Fey was the daughter of a far more problematic individual. Having long escaped into exile, Naois Ansgar was still a fresh wound among the memories of Kaelor's people.
Better let the Farseer's work through this first.
"A Vision must be considered. Carefully" Elvor looked to the other male Farseer, his gaze shrewd yet calm, "do not let prejudice so easily guide your hand"
"We indulged her Father" Faenris countered, "and it almost brought us to ruin. Who is to say the daughter is different?"
Dhun's need to defend his apprentice was not met by his tongue.
Ela'Ashbel's head was pointed toward him, her misty eyes seemingly focused upon the Warlock as she addressed the rest of the council.
"Who is to say she is the same?"
Her question brought no argument, and she continued further.
"My Brother's fate is his own. Do not weigh his failures upon the child. We shall judge this Vision for ourselves"
Cinnia's eyes glanced at the door.
"She is here" she uttered, her head twisting ever so slightly in pointed confusion, "her power has grown…"
Isennel let out a mutter, carefully adjusting his decadent robes as he sat further upright.
Elvor remained silent, but his posture was tightened.
Faenris glanced toward Cinnia yet she also said nothing.
"Bhaine"
The Warlock was startled somewhat, his name announced from the pale lips of the greatest woman he knew. He looked to Ela'Ashbel, awaiting her command with due patience.
It may have been a trick of his imagination, but he could have sworn a light smile graced the Farseer's face for just a moment.
"Leave us" she said calmly, "wait with Fey. We will call for you when we are ready"
He bowed deeply, and without another word, left the sanctum.
Fey had been left alone in the Council's antechamber for only a few moments. Her Guardian escort had disappeared just as she had arrived, yet she was given no time alone.
As soon as she calmed herself and accepted the potential hour long wait ahead of her, the door to the Sanctum opened.
Bhaine Dhun emerged, his scruffy face denoting a joyous expression.
Fey couldn't help the anger that welled up at her Master's features. Just hours ago he had been deeply troubled, if not outright terrified, at her Vision.
Dhun swiftly approached her, a sentence on his tongue ready to spill forth… until he saw how his young Apprentice was regarding him with such irritation.
He stopped, glanced over his black shoulder plates, eyes taking in the darkened corridors beyond. Dhun's soft brown eyes came to rest upon Fey once more.
"Why the dour expression my dear apprentice?"
"This is serious" Fey snapped, "you said so yourself. Yet now I find you grinning like a fool after speaking with the Council, and you have the gall to ask me why I'm-"
The Warlock brought both of his hands to Fey's shoulders, the gesture immediately silencing the young Seer.
His black gloves gently held her as his gaze turned to one far more mature than his regular countenance.
"What has happened has happened. What are we to do now?"
Fey sighed, her anger subsiding as quickly as it had bubbled forth. She spoke out the words Bhaine had spent years attempting to engrain in her mind, "the actions of our present shall forge a better future. I look for the path we all must tread"
He patted her shoulders once more, coming to his full height before her as he proudly looked down at her.
"Exactly," he smiled.
"Now what?" Fey asked, "am I not to see the Council?"
The Warlock nodded, "Soon"
"But not yet," she muttered.
Dhun nodded again.
Fey's heavy sigh of reply preceded the silence between them. The two of them remained side by side in the dark grey of the Wraith-Bone corridor, their eyes focused upon the door to the Council's Sanctum.
No noise slipped out from the sealed doors.
Not a sound.
And it was Fey who broke the silence minutes later.
"What if this Vision is-"
"The Council will decide what it is, and what it isn't, Fey" he glanced at her lightly, noting how her head was turned down ever so slightly.
She nodded, quietly.
The ragged looking Warlock could not help the mental comparison between Fey and her Aunt in that moment.
They both possessed the same Ansgar Crimson hair, but Fey's was on the lighter side, likely taking after her mother. The younger had eyes of steel surrounding a black pupil, an intense gaze even wielded by one so young. In fact, Fey's features would have given a solid look of youth, what with her smooth skin, soft chin and slim nose…
But the scar that cleaved from cheekbone to forehead, cutting over her eyebrow and eyelid, told the truth.
She had not seen war, but violence was not a foreign concept to her. Fey was not some civilian Maiden, that was for certain.
The Warlock knew of his apprentice's story… he also knew of her fears and pains. He had trained her for the better half of a century, so naturally he had come to know her closely.
But before Bhaine could make any further comment of reassurance the door to the inner sanctum opened of its own accord.
It was Ela'Ashbel's voice that brought them forward.
"Warlock, Seer. The Council would speak with you"
The light of dawn finally greeted the valley that was Hive Primaris. Stretching down from the heavens, the sun cast great swathes of golden light through a clear sky, the towering structures of the Imperial city coated in the rays of warmth.
And as the ball of fire crested the Northern mountainside, so too did its revealing nature grant a clear view of the land beyond the Outer Wall.
Gunfire was exchanged between the Ork trenches and the battlements of the wall, never a moment of peace to be had between the Imperial defenders and the Xenos attackers.
More paths in the dirt had been cut out by the greenskins at Hive Primaris's doorstep, artillery shelling doing what little it could to deter the earthen fortifications from being created.
Ork trucks transported equipment from their landed voidcraft a handful at a time.
For the defenders on the wall, they could see an even greater force amassing between the behemoths of the Ork vessels.
Obscured as they were by the large spacecraft, it seemed that the Greenskins were taking their time to organize their next assault against the Outer Wall.
And all the defenders could do was pray and prepare.
But deep in the heart of hearts of most of the Imperial Soldiers, most knew, that somehow, the worst had yet to come.
Caius watched Lucian's still form from afar.
He and Lynwood, after carefully leading the boy away from the battlements, had brought Lucian to the mustering field of the Central Fortress.
But departing the Inner Wall had been a strange affair.
After Lucian had done…. The thing…. each and every eye had been upon him. Prayers and whispers had broken out amongst the Guardsmen around him. Calls of 'A saint!' or 'Emperor's Chosen!' had been demure as they were pulled from the crowd. The Commissars present had been too stunned to utter commands for the first few moments.
Once the glow had receded from the youth's form however, did the world return to the normal of an active warzone.
Many eyes remained upon the young Psyker though, their gazes snapping between the now prowling Commissars and the boy as the Guard reformed their lines.
And the boy?
Well, Lucian hadn't said a word to any other beside his intended escort.
"Where to?"
Lynwood had gruffly led the way down from the battlements.
It was a large and open space they now found themselves in, each of the full Balorian Regiments having long since departed the grounds to take up their assigned defensive positions.
Far away from them, the grounds remained broken open to let loose the various war ships of the Aeronautica Imperialis. Intermittently the planes would fly up into the sky, powering away into the skies to rejoin the active battle at the Outer Wall.
Out in the open air, they could hear the sounds of flakk fire and anti-air cannons spattering in the distance.
Lucian was resting silently against one of the many statues that lined the paths of the Mustering Grounds, his eyes closed as he serenely waited.
Caius stood beside Lynwood, whose arms were crossed in gruff consternation. The man's half bionic face was welded into a deep frown.
The younger Agent couldn't help glancing between the contemplative Lynwood and the peaceful Lucian.
To think, they had all come from the same planet, thrown together by circumstance and chance…
Caius couldn't help the smile from appearing on his face.
Impossibilities had become the baseline norm of his life. That, and acts of incredibly powerful sorcery from the last person you would visually expect such powers to come from.
Lucian at a distance was… well, he was not small per say, but he wasn't tall either. If one looked at him from afar they'd believe him to be unassuming and regular. So much so that when he was out of his standard battleplate and dressed in his usual gray digs, one could easily lose him in a crowd.
But only if he kept his eyes closed.
The glowing gold that now brightly composed the youth's eyesight wasn't something most would look away from.
In his heart of hearts, Caius knew this to be a sign of the boy's divinity. He was beginning to understand all the serious proclamations and orders that Vownus had given regarding the boy.
Lucian was special.
In a galaxy of trillions, this youth was destined for something far beyond Caius or Lynwood could ever imagine.
It was an odd thought to have though.
Because the former Arbite had been beside the boy for so long now. A tutor. A mentor. A friend even. He was going to be a driving force in the shaping of an individual who might someday command legions…
"He is an impertinent brat"
Caius blinked, swiftly turning his head to look at the narrowed glare of Lynwood. The older man kept his gaze focused on the resting youth.
"Bloody naive fool" the gruff Agent bit out, "...but an honorable one"
Caius turned to look at the boy as well.
"He did the same thing on Agrax"
It took the younger agent a moment to realize he had spoken the words, Lynwood's sidelong glance pointed towards him with an expectant eye.
Caius gestured lightly toward the boy, "the talking thing. With the glow. He did it on Agrax too. When he spoke before the nobles, his words were…." Caius took a moment to look for the operative word, "emboldened"
"Emboldened?" Lynwood repeated, his tone flat but not from disbelief.
Caius idly crossed his heart with a soft smile, "swear on the throne. It was just like what he did on the wall… expect without the lightshow"
"Lightshow indeed" the elder grunted with a murmur, "the boy is powerful…"
Lucian's eyes opened.
His gaze settled to the horizon beyond Caius and Lynwood's shoulders.
The younger Agent turned to observe what had caught the boy's attention.
From afar, striding across the Mustering Grounds with a vicious crunch in his step, was Vownus.
And interestingly enough, he wasn't alone.
He looked pissed.
Very pissed.
Lucian didn't bother to look toward Aethod as the Inquisitor locked eyes with him. Anger coiled in Vownus' eyes, and the youth couldn't help but glare back.
He'd done the right thing. He'd destroyed the enemy, he'd-
For a split second, Vownus vanished from existence.
The warp sang.
A coiled fist wrapped itself around Lucian's neck, the force of Vownus' reemergence from the Gate of Infinity crashing Lucian through the statue he had stood beside.
"You stupid boy"
The youth barely heard the spiteful title, his hands grappling with the arm that held him aloft yet simultaneously denied him oxygen.
"Arrogant. Naive. And idiotic, boy!"
With the last word he was crushed into the earth by a tremendous force. The sudden impact drove the breath from his lungs.
"You don't ask of the Warp. I told you this. I explicitly stated this!" a hand coiled around Lucian's leg, the boy unable to even sit up right before he was sent sailing through the air.
His body crumbled through another statue. A piece of rock dashed against his brow.
Blood was drawn.
Lucian took a moment to right himself, hands before him as he slowly brought himself to his feet.
"But noooo. You just had to be impatient, just had to know more…"
A boot connected with his stomach, and the boy rolled with the agonizing strike.
"Too full of pride to come to me? Content with your new teacher, are you?"
Lucian came to his feet swiftly, a martial stance only partially formed before a fist sent him careening downward.
"My Lord!"
Caius's fearful call drew Vownus' baleful attention for a moment, "not a fucking word, Helix! You have no idea-"
Managing to roll onto his back, eyes bleary with star spotted vision, Lucian brought a sweeping hand through the air before him.
It was enough.
The Empyrean roared as the strike connected with Vownus, the Inquisitor only getting a moment to turn and observe the boy before the attack hit him.
Akin to a ragdoll, the Witch Hunter tumbled across the ground, ending up in a tangled heap a few meters away.
The youth spat blood from his mouth, his eyes connecting with the still immobile form of Aethod. But this wasn't some effort to kill him.
Or atleast, it seemed as such that Vownus was acting by himself.
The Librarian was regarding Lucian with a critical eye, but from where he stood beside Lynwood and Caius, he did not move to help the downed Vownus.
Merely observed the two of them at a distance.
Aethod's eyes glanced past Lucian's shoulder.
Looking back to where he'd thrown the Inquisitor, Lucian was greeted to a single second of a black boot filling his entire vision.
His nose exploded in a shower of crimson, his vision going dark for a moment as he sailed backward toward the ground.
Immaculate and undamaged as ever, the Inquisitor approached his downed apprentice.
Bringing the youth to his knees, Vownus slapped him broadly across the face, the boy's head twisting with the blow.
"Wake up"
Golden eyes met with the Witch Hunter's own.
Dazed, Lucian tried to raise a hand.
Vownus' power sword landed beneath the boy's chin, the tip of the blade pressing dangerously close to Lucian's neck.
"Do it" Kaede furiously glared down at the boy as he hissed his warning, "do it. Come on. Let's find out how immortal you really are"
Lucian's body relaxed, his weary shoulders slumping downward as his gaze fell from Vownus' own. As his body nearly crumpled, he couldn't help the words that left him.
"But I did the right thing…"
Whiney and childlike they were, but also accusing and full of painful surprise.
Vownus' glare narrowed.
"The act matters little. Where you learnt this sorcery is the greater issue, and a pressing concern at that"
"Learnt?" Lucian asked with a lilt of surprise.
The sword pressed closer still.
"Don't play dumb with me" Vownus snapped, "I want a name"
The boy had gone quiet at this. His eyes turned up to look at Vownus, a myriad of emotions burning through the golden rings.
"A name?" confusion and doubt were the chief undertones of the open aired question.
Vownus pressed in, lowering himself to bring their faces closer together.
"Whatever entity you bargained with to teach you such magik, whatever title it goes by, you will tell me its name"
Lucian's mouth opened but Vownus snapped a quick follow up.
"Lie to me and you will not live to regret it"
Lucian's eyes watered as his lip twitched ever so slightly.
His silence lingered for too long.
"GIVE ME A NAME!" Vownus roared, his tone filled with ungoverned fury. Yet there was also an undercut of fear. Dreadful fear. Lucian could see it in the man's eyes.
"Red" Lucian painfully hissed, "his name is Red"
Vownus' look quivered for a moment, but his tone remained brutally strong and demanding "How did it appear before you. Describe it"
Lucian's gaze morphed into a semi-glare, but a part of him was glad to finally let this secret off of his chest.
"He's a giant. Taller than Aethod. Wears robes and calls himself a scholar" the youth bitterly recounted, "his skin is crimson and he has-"
"One eye"
The Sword that was tucked beneath his chin pulled away.
Lucian blinked as Vownus fell backward onto his rear, still facing the boy dead on but now lowered to his height.
Vownus' face shifted from anger to blank shock in a heartbeat, his eyes were glossy and unseeing as he looked toward Lucian with some new yet frightful understanding.
Lucian spat blood from his mouth, but quietly adjusted himself to sit upright before Vownus. After admitting that part, he couldn't help the words that followed.
"Red told me you wouldn't teach me anything important. He told me you'd make a weapon out of me" Lucian's undercurrent of anger was bubbling, but his need for answers drew him to speak further instead of waiting for whatever judgment Vownus would pass on him.
"He spoke to me of my destiny. Of my purpose" the youth shook his head, clearing some of his vision with the brief movement "I don't trust Red, or you for that matter… but he told me he'd teach me, and he has. You still have not"
Lucian fixed Vownus with an accusing glare.
"If you weren't going to help me, then I'd help myself"
Vownus' stare remained almost vacant, the shock of some internal revelation completely destabilizing the man.
The Inquisitor was coming to terms with a few heavy details.
After summarily beating his student into a deserving pulp for keeping potentially dangerous secrets from him, Kaede had learnt the ugly truth of things.
Magnus the Red, Primarch of the Thousand Sons, and a traitor to the Imperium, had picked Lucian as his apprentice.
'By the fucking Throne…'
The Crimson King, the greatest Sorcerer second to the Emperor, had taken up instruction of Lucian.
At this, Vownus came to the greater realization, a thought he had refused to indulge even simply.
This was a clue far too great to ignore, one that tied together an inevitable truth that a fair piece of Vownus' mind had wished to be false.
Lucian could have been a Saint.
Or a disproportionately powerful Psyker.
Or a temptation laid down by the Trickster, a trap that the Architect of Fate intended to spring at a later date.
Instead, Lucian was-
Vownus' gaze focused on the golden rings of the youth's eyes, the black hair that was just starting to grow out against his standard military cut.
The Witch Hunter could make out the stern features that were beginning to form. He was already aware of the mind that came to grasp any concept it was thrown its way.
And the boy's very soul, pure and determined, searching for its purpose in the universe…
Vownus couldn't help the slight slackness of his form.
The Prophecy was true.
But that did not mean it would be fulfilled without question.
There were dangers along the path, trials and tribulations that had to be passed through or defeated entirely.
Lucian could not afford a moment's hesitation, nor a shadow of a doubt as to the importance of his decisions and actions.
This in mind…
"There was a young Psyker once" Vownus weakly began, his tone finding a cold baseline as he blearily recounted a story for Lucian.
"A powerful boy, gifted with strength and the talent to wield it"
Lucian remained silent, his anger abating for the moment. Even though he knew consorting with Red was inherently wrong, Lucian still didn't like how Vownus had just casually beaten the shit out of him. But he'd listen.
"He was already working for the Inquisition when his abilities emerged. And as he was shuffled from teacher to teacher, his power continued to grow, the lengths of his potential seemingly endless…"
Vownus sighed, his dour tone taking a turn for the worse.
"But it wasn't enough. All the resources and instruction from those around him, it was insufficient for the boy. He wanted to know more…. He craved more"
Lucian's fist clenched slightly.
If Vownus was comparing him to some power hungry-
The Inquisitor had misty eyes.
"He asked the Warp to give him what he wanted. And… an entity, a Daemon, responded. It presented the boy with a challenge. It would give him all the knowledge he could ask for, granted that one day it would come for the boy, and see if the boy had truly learnt"
Vownus shook his head slightly, but muscled on.
Lucian was beginning to understand.
"The boy…" Vownus scoffed, "I was a man when the Daemon came for me. I had grown stronger. I was so powerful… so very powerful…" His voice was full of wistful notes as he described the past, his eyes seeing through Lucian to a memory from an era long ago.
Vownus's glare returned, mellowed slightly by his sorrow but still sparkling with hate.
"But the Daemon was stronger. In my arrogance I thought myself to have outwitted the enemy… but if it had not been for my Master-"
"Alvarion Naal wasn't possessed by a Daemon" Lucian quietly intervened, Vownus' eyes meeting with his own, "you were"
The Inquisitor gave a stuttered nod at this but said no further damning words.
"He pulled it from you at the cost of his own life"
Lucian's form relaxed slightly.
Vownus slumped further into himself, the brim of his hat hiding most of his features. It was an odd sight for the Apprentice to take in.
Kaede had never worn a look of shame before, and Lucian couldn't help but feel pity for him.
"I'm sorry. For not telling you about Red" the youth murmured, "I'm… I was scared. I'm still scared, Vownus. Ever since you took me from Helios, I find myself unprepared for the dangers I'm faced with, one after another…. These enemies, the threats I'm supposed to overcome one day…"
The honesty in his tone got the Inquisitor to look at him, both holding the eyes of the other.
"I know you promised to teach me soon, but I needed to learn immediately" Lucian firmly stated, "if not to defend others than at least to defend myself"
Vownus's features turned blank.
"Did this… Red, try to make any agreements or deals with you?"
Lucian was contemplative for a second.
"One. When we first met. He told me to shake his hand if I wished to speak with him again"
Vownus brought a hand up to rub his brow, "and that's all?"
Lucian nodded, before his gaze turned accusing, "you know who he is"
Vownus waved a hand of dismissal, slowly coming to his feet, "now is not the time-"
The Warp howled around the two of them, the power of the Immaterium condensing into the tightly wound youth.
"Red claimed we were related" Lucian's voice vibrated with power, his bloody lip and forehead doing nothing to detract from how dangerous he currently looked.
Still slumped on the floor, the youth slowly began his rise to both feet.
"He said he knew who my Father is"
Lucian came up to his full height, eyes locked to Vownus.
"And I think you do too"
Vownus rolled his jaw slowly, afraid his tongue would betray him at this moment.
"I-"
The alarm sounded loudly and clearly. The distant gunfire picked up in its intensity. Explosions boomed out from miles away.
"It's possible-" Vownus quickly exclaimed, "that I might know the identity of your father. And if this 'Red' is who I suspect him to be... then he does too. But now is not the time Lucian, we need to get you-"
The icy words were cold and immediate.
"I will die, before I leave this planet to its fate"
The tone almost got Vownus to buckle at the knees. But Lucian's youthful visage wasn't developed enough to really sell the commanding words.
He was, however, not going to make this easy on Vownus.
Maybe as the War dragged on, Lucian would understand the need to leave… maybe then he would simply go…
Not willing to fight with him now, especially since his presence was required on the frontlines, Vownus made a snap decision.
"Right" he nodded, gesturing for the other three to join them. While Caius and Lynwood were out of earshot of the scuffle and ensuing conversation, Aethod had likely heard it all.
As they moved to join him, Vownus started to give orders.
"Rejoin your squad. No sorcery without mine or Aethod's say so. Librarian" Vownus looked to the Astral Knight as the warrior came within a foot of them, "I want you to keep an eye on Lucian. Both in this dimension and the others"
Aethod seemed flawed by this order, and rightfully so.
"But my Lord-"
The Knight would be separated from his brethren at the wall.
Vownus shook his head sadly, "one of us has to make sure the Warp isn't fucking with him, Aethod" the Inquisitor said plainly, "and we both know who is better suited for this fight"
Aethod said nothing further, but Vownus knew him well enough to take note of the harsh anger building in the warrior's eyes.
The threat that loomed upon Hive Primaris would take hundreds of thousands of lives, maybe even that of Aethod's dwindling Chapter.
To not be present for the battle would be an insult to him as a warrior.
Especially if he failed to protect one of his own from falling.
But Vownus needed to make decisions now, regardless of how bad they felt.
"Caius, Lynwood" Kaede turned to the other two mortals, "keep him with his squad. Don't let him out of your sight"
"It will be done" Lynwood intoned deeply, Caius nodding as well. The Witch Hunter could still see the look of worry in the younger agent's eye, Caius having failed to understand the dangers Lucian had invoked.
From his perspective, he'd watched Kaede beat the grox shit out of Lucian for doing the right thing. The man knew little to nothing of Sorcery, or what it takes to truly learn such abilities.
"Vownus"
The man in question had his eyes brought down to his apprentice.
"When we've won, I want you to tell me who my Father is"
Vownus couldn't help but scoff and smile.
"When" he repeated with a grin, "loving the optimism Kiddo. Are you usually this cheery after someone's knocked some sense into you?"
Lucian frowned, "that's not funny"
Vownus' smirk remained, "had to try. Stay safe kiddo"
And he marched away.
Off to war once more.
As the morning light gave way to the rising sun of day, the Greenskins finally seemed ready.
The Horde had formed, the many trucks and rampaging xenos making up the brunt of the first wave. Like before, they ran right at the Outer Wall with maddening glee.
Calls for volleys and firing were made by the Defenders, the Imperium doing its best to rebel against the first strike.
A fair few of the Greenskins took to their improvised trenches, where they began to trade fire with the defenders at range.
Most of the Orks took to ladders of Jet Packs, each ready to join with their enemies upon the wall in glorious melee combat.
Atop the battlements, the Guardsmen and Space Wolves readied themselves.
The next battle had begun.
Ulvarr felt a little glee in his hearts that the descending Ork realized its predicament a second before its fate was sealed.
The flying Jet pack propelled Ork fell right into his Lightning Claws, the talons of each finger piercing through its ramshackle armor.
With a twist and a tug, Ulvarr rendered the beast into two gory chunks.
Blood had sprayed all over his face and front, a hack and a spit clearing the foul liquid from his jaw.
"Fuck!" he groused, "how does Skorn do it?!"
The growl of a chainsword blossomed from his left, the Wolf Guard Joran coming to stand by his Brother's side.
"You wouldn't understand," the swordsman quipped, "it's all about the angle of the cut. Keeps the blood out yer eyes"
Joran's weapon revved in anticipation of an opponent, another flying Ork meeting its maker as soon as it came within range.
Ulvarr looked away before the spray of blood could paint his face and features.
"Oh I believe such a statement from you, Brother" Ulvarr's eyes turned from the skies to the battlements of the Western wall, his eyes seeking the topic of conversation, "but I feel Skorn isn't so concerned with such finesse"
Eventually the older Guard found the warrior in question.
And even more interestingly, the warrior that stood by his side in combat.
Up against the battlements, fending off the Orks that climbed atop a far lengthier and sturdier, Skorn stood beside the Lone Wolf, Freyr.
It was no secret amongst any in the Fire Wolf company, even the Blood Claws, that these two warriors despised each other.
'Perhaps despised is too soft a word. At least in Skorn's case' Ulvarr noted, as Freyr narrowly dodged an Ork axe to his skull, before beheading the beast that attempted to take him down.
The elder warrior hated the Lone Wolf.
And as Skorn was in the thick of things, Chainsword and armor already dressed in a fresh coat of Ork blood, he failed to note how closely Freyr watched his back.
Drakth Maekith may act tough and cold, but he felt shame needlessly for what he'd done to Skorn.
Oggar, Skorns dearest friend, had been killed by the same foe that had rendered Freyr a Lone Wolf. The newly minted Lone Wolf had done what many expected of him, and more.
He had sought out the killer of his brothers, banishing the monster that had taken his pack mates to the foul place it had come from.
But this was only after Skorn had failed to kill the beast. Drenched in anger and sorrow, the Wolf Guard had failed to avenge his brethren.
A guilt that would remain forever within his heart, once Freyr took the kill for himself.
It was an unfortunate outcome. A sad one.
Pride and glory were intertwined so deeply in their actions, so much so that both failed to see that the other hunted the beast for the same reason.
Freyr could care less since he had succeeded in his task, but Skorn felt shame. Regardless of how many times Lord Grimblood tried to mend the wound, the warrior would not let it heal.
He believed he'd failed Oggar, and he placed part of the blame on Freyr.
This blame weighed on Freyr, but the Lone Wolf refused to let it show.
An honorable thing.
He would bear his Brother's pain, if only to keep the warrior strong.
Skorn's anger was a sight to behold.
"Who's next! You filthy xenos bastards!" the blood drenched warrior shouted down the empty rungs of the ladder. In the next second, he used his chainsword to slice away the grappling lines of the larger siege ladder, casting it away with a powerful shove.
Freyr cut down two Greenskins that attempted to drop upon the duo from the skies, his eyes alert and vigilant, constantly seeking a new enemy.
His gaze met with Ulvarr's own.
The Lone Wolf's eyes turned curious.
Ulvarr couldn't help but sadly smile.
Freyr was to be made a member of the Wolf Guard. Every warrior of the Fire company knew this. It made sense.
He was skilled, honorable, cunning and intelligent.
But Lord Grimblood would not allow the appointment while bad blood existed between Freyr and Skorn.
The decision to elect Oggar's replacement had to be a unanimous one.
And Skorn had remained silent for every vote.
He did not deny the appointment, but he was not in favor of it.
Ulvarr favored the Lone Wolf with a nod.
If fate was kind, Skorn would finally see past his short sighted anger.
Every Space Wolf had their eyes drawn to the South, their ears having picked up the bellowing horn before any mortal did.
A monstrous sight dominated the horizon.
There were three of them. They came wheeling out on threaded tracks from between the nestled Voidcraft.
Even from a distance of over twenty kilometers, the trio of Ork Gargants were a fearful sight. Their towering forms were comprised of jagged and patchwork steel, each disjointed piece painted in hues of checkered black and white. Red stains adorned the vicious palate of colors in tasteless applications, the monstrosities better resembling weaponised scrap.
And that is what they were.
Great beasts made from metal, fashioned in the likeness of the Xenos that built them.
But these were not some suicidal Orks seeking melee combat.
Bristling with auto cannons and missile launchers, a claw arm on one side and a cannon for the other, the trio were great threats to the Hive.
And these imperious Siege machines were not alone.
Smaller Ork Stompas followed in the wake of these behemoths, their height far less than the greater Gargants, but each likely reaching the height of the Outer Wall with ease.
The strategy seemed clear.
While the Gargants engaged with the Gate Houses, the Stompa's would assail the wall, the headpiece of their designs likely allowing Ork's to spill from the crude mouths of each vehicle.
Artillery shelling resumed.
And as the Imperial Airforce rose up once more to attack the slowly approaching threat, the Ork's responded in kind.
Wing-Captain Sonnet Tash banked his fighter upward, narrowly avoiding the burning debris of Gold Two's latest kill.
"Cap! Things are getting dicier! What's the plan?"
Sweat fell from his brow, the world blurring as he banked forward into a dive, picking a single Ork plane out of a sea of hundreds.
The dog fighting continued around him as he chased his target.
Even as he sent another Ork plane to oblivion, his Vox channel opened up once more.
"This is Three! I've got a determined fucker on my-"
The line crackled off. An explosion blossomed off his starboard side.
Tash's eyes widened.
"Three? Check in! Three!" but the silence was sure. And Tash knew it.
Even so, Two cleared the air "He's gone Cap"
The Captain grit his teeth, a deep breath leaving him as he twisted his plane through the war torn skies of Balor.
"One, Two, Four and Five. Follow me in'' Tash's gaze narrowed on one of the slowly approaching Ork Siege machines. One of the little ones that the Imperial command had designated as a 'Stompa'.
Off the comm line he hissed to himself.
"Eye for an eye"
Gold Leader found himself pulled into an attack dive, anger welling up within his exhausted body.
'This is for Three'
Kjarl Grimblood was only briefly distracted by one of the approaching Stompa's detonating in a shower of fire and burning metal.
An Ork war cry drew his attention from the flickering explosion, his blade finding its way between the Ork's ribs before exiting its torso from the shoulder.
Otalig's hammer whistled beside him, its heavy head flattening an Ork with a satisfying crunch that Kjarl did not witness, but heard.
"Castellan" the Grimblood checked into his vox caster, his sword carving through another three foes that came from both sky and ladder, "patch me through to Vownus"
He eyed the wall of approaching behemoths and the swarms of greenskins surged past their lumbering forms.
"We have need of his Psyker"
The Grimblood's Vox line crackled a moment later.
"The Western Gate is under heavy assault. Kaede is not responding" Hageski Harkoden's voice was filled with stress and worry, but determination colored each word. The man was no fool, but he would not crumble under the threat presented to the hive.
The Lord of the Fire Company regarded the information he was given.
'Dead or occupied' Kjarl grimly confirmed to himself, 'more likely the latter'
"Get a hold of him when you can. Relay my order to him"
"It will be done my Lord"
The Castellan's voice clicked away.
Kjarl returned to the battle with prominent fury, an order on his snarling lips.
"Brothers! Guardsmen! Those of you armed with Heavy Munitions! Target the Xenos War Machines! Aim for the core!"
His command spread down the battlements.
Weapons were adjusted, sprays of Las fire directed toward the incoming threat.
Germael exited his dance of blades for a moment, a trail of Greekskin bodies left in his violent wake as he took stock of the battlements.
He and the Astral Knights had been reassigned to the Western Segments of the battlements to replace those the Guardsmen had lost.
And it seemed that the Orks had taken a keen notice of the less dense area, regardless of the more skilled warriors now positioned to defend it.
There had been talk regarding signs of intelligence from the Greenskins, something that Aethod had reiterated over the Vox earlier. Vownus had arranged for the battlements to be this way as some sort of a test of cunning by the Orks.
It seemed as if they had taken the bait.
And with gusto they had come.
Germael twirled his swords once more, dividing a charging Nob into three clean pieces.
Bolter fire impacted off his shoulder pauldron, the Captain turning to face the offender.
Before he could close the distance between himself and the particular Ork that had targeted him, Rhamine's power-axe cleaved the beast's skull in twain.
The affirmation of the kill came over their Vox.
"78! Try to keep up Tiberec!"
"Only 78? I'm on 94!" was the gruff yet humor filled response.
Germael ignored the banter, his focus now returned to other potential threats of the wall. Let the two keep themselves at ease, a better mood to be in than the negative spirals Raduriel often found himself in.
Besides, other thoughts crossed the Captain's mind.
The most prevalent being he had yet to see Aethod anywhere.
A strange thing for the Librarian to not be visible upon the battlements. Even through all the fighting and bloodshed, Germael's keen eye would have been able to spot his Brother amongst the chaos.
A group of Ork Nobs, some of the larger kinds of Greenskins, found themselves before him. Germael brought both of his swords up, his mind now focused once more on the battle at hand.
His dance of death began again, his blades whistling through the air.
Vownus had made it back upon the battlements just as the battle turned into a bloodbath. Finding himself immediately in the thick of things, he hadn't the luxury of time to answer his crackling Vox caster, instead dishing out death to anything that wasn't human.
The Ork's that assailed the wall were far larger than the first wave.
More Nobs were among their endless number.
Kaede couldn't care less.
A psychic blade cut through them all the same, regardless of how much more meat was on their bones.
He blinked between as many small pockets of fighting as possible, relieving assailed Guardsmen and some of the overwhelmed Space Wolves, his pistol flashing and blade swinging between every Gate he created.
Vownus was a demon upon the battlements, his mind quickly switching from target to target, precisely delivering death as fast as he could.
Until he found himself in the presence of a larger ally.
"Inquisitor" the booming announcement of the Witch Hunter's rank came from the Dreadnaught a second before its storm bolters erupted.
"Chapter Master" Vownus politely panted out a greeting, his Hel Pistol spitting death in an around the ally he'd bumped into, "having fun?"
The sardonic humor was lost on the ancient warrior.
"Where is Brother Aethod"
Vownus winced, quickly coming about to kill the green bastard attempting to sneak up on him.
That the Ork was yelling while it tried to execute its cunning plan wasn't lost on the Witch Hunter.
"Babysitting. The Boy is shaping up to be everything I hoped for" Kaede grimaced, "and feared"
"Aethod is a treasured Knight of our Order" Thade blurted aloud, his words heard by Vownus but lost to the general madness around them. With surprising swiftness, the Dreadnaught swung its arm out, catching an Ork attempting to leap into the fray from its ladder.
"But his place is with his Brothers. Such a duty is an insult to his honor"
"Somebody had to do it" Vownus snapped back, "it wasn't-"
A shadow swung low over the wall, an series of Ork aircraft that had managed to make it through the bloodbath in the heavens.
Ork Landa's.
From their cargo bay bellies emerged an entirely new threat. These Ork attackers were dispensed without care or concern, their large figures coming to land amongst the battlements with powerful impacts.
Nobs.
But… They were armored.
One had landed close enough to Vownus for the Inquisitor to get a good look at the monster.
As the Greenskin came to its full height, the Witch Hunter saw how the beast was completely armored. Head to foot. Shoulder Pauldrons and the works…
They looked like…
Astartes.
As the beast opened its mouth to roar at them, Vownus brought his Hel Pistol up and squeezed off two shots.
Both struck the Meganob, however each shot managed to only stagger the creature.
Standing once more to Vownus' abject shock, the beast revealed its plate armor was blisteringly damaged, but not broken.
"You've got to be fucking-"
The creature charged him, roaring its warcry as it did.
Yet it never reached him.
Thade's Storm Bolters peppered the beast with hundreds of explosive tipped rounds, each Bolt shredding both the armor and the monster that wore it.
Reduced to bleeding and gory mess, the heavy set Ork tumbled over.
Vownus turned back to the Dreadnaught, trying to find the eyes of the ancient warrior that lay interred beneath its still visage.
Before he could utter his thanks, his attention was taken by a group of these new assailants approaching.
It seemed these 'Meganobz' were after the bigger warriors.
Vownus met their charge head on, Thade's guns roaring over his shoulder in support of the attack.
The Meganobz weren't just being deployed to the Outer Wall. These plate wearing Greenskins also found their shuttles being directed beyond the Southern Defense, their Landa's coming into the Outer city.
Primarily in the Western sector, the Orks obviously having a keen focus on the Manufactorums that lay there.
The Tech-Adepts had a thing or two to say about that.
As the PDF and Armored Divisions in the many causeways came head to head with these armored monsters, Skittarii engaged from the many alcoves and balconies of the Factories hundreds of floors.
The Anti Air guns were pushed to their limit, each battery given no respite between every target they picked out of the sky.
Being pushed to their limits, the Defenders needed to dig deep within themselves to muster all the strength they could.
The Orks had no such need.
By sheer numerical advantage they would take the wall.
The rumbling approach of the Gargants and Stompa's only added to the ticking of the doomsday clock.
Yet the denizens of Hive Primaris fought.
But eventually, something had to give.
Germael had made his way toward his Chapter Master, eyes having spotted the stylised hat of the Witch Hunter beside the Dreadnaught.
Fighting his way through had proven more difficult than he initially expected.
These armored Ork's were a sturdy sort, his sword struggling to find purchase against their thick plate more than a few times.
Instead of slashes or his graceful dance, Germael had been forced to run each armored Greenskin through with his swords.
Even the thick material of their battlearmor could not prevent the piercing strength of a Power weapon such as Germael's own.
The Captain found himself a handful of feet away from Thade and Vownus within a handful of blood filled minutes.
A blaring horn from the approaching line Ork Stompa boomed from his right.
The Guardsmen's cry of "Incoming!" followed shortly.
A wave of explosions detonated across the Western Wall, Germael curling in on himself momentarily to protect himself from any close strikes.
Besides a light rattling of his body within his armor, the Captain of the Astral Knights shortly found himself upright in the dusty air of the battlements.
His eyes found Thade between the briefly subdued battle.
The Ork missile strike had no care for who it struck, friend or foe. It's goal had been to disorient and damage, and it had succeeded in that.
Germael saw how Thade minced an armored Nob while batting away a smaller one.
Vownus to his side, had a mind blade embedded in the skull of another.
Only Germael saw the threat behind them both, their backs to the ramparts.
"Chapter Master!" the scream was drawn from his lips, "THADE!"
From the lip of the battlements, born to these great heights from one of their many ladders, a group of Ork's emerged. Unlike their kin, the weapons of these Orks were not ballistic or crude.
Pointed spears lay in their hands, each shining as if in evidence of their master craftsmanship. From the distance he found himself at, Thade could tell these were power weapons. And he could also see how the Greenskin's red eyes focused on the Dreadnaught's back.
The Captain broke out into a charge, even as fate unwinded before his gaze.
Thade was turning, but his form was too slow, too large to prevent the coming strike.
The world slowed down for Germael. His hearts thudded in his chest as each powerful stride he took thundered through his bones.
But he was too slow.
Far too slow.
He saw the moment the first spear cut deep into the Ceramite plating on the Dreadnaught's spine.
As the second and third found its way to his Chapter Master's back, the tip of the first emerged from the front.
The light of day coated the wet blade, its blood covered tip shining under the sun.
As the agonizing seconds rolled by, Germael's eyes locked upon the still form of his Chapter Master.
Slower still, the great form of Thade began to topple forward.
Vownus was upon the killers, but Germael's eyes could not leave the tumbling Dreadnaught.
It was impossible.
The oldest of them, the shining remnant of their former order…
Amongst the piles of dead Orks, Guardsmen and Space Wolves, did the Dreadnaughts' wide form fall.
Germael's voice failed him, the pain of what lay before him driving a deep spear of its own between his hearts.
For the immovable behemoth that he called brother, his ally, leader and teacher, was dead.
Germael could not help the singular tear that fell from his eye.
The day was marked.
No victory could be had in exchange for this tremendous loss.
Thade, Chapter Master of the Astral Knights, had been slain.
And thats a wrap.
So, still pressing the whole Mortarion vs Angron thing, which one you guys would rather have make the first appearance. So far the set up is interchangeable for those two. I know y'all want Fulgrim or Lorgar, but they come into play later. I've already figured out their spots.
The big stuff. Vanella side story, Titos side story, and now the Eldar. For those of you who are Eldar fans, expect an Eldar Waifuu in the future, hope it keeps you happy.
BALOR IS CRANKING UP. BIG WAR. MORE DEATH. SORRY NOT SORRY. Word of advice, don't get attached to ANYONE. I'm not GRRM, but I'll fuckin kill 'em without warning, regardless of how you feel about them.
TO YOU BEAUTIFUL REVIEWERS. THANK YOU FOR CHARGING ME WITH YOUR ENERGY, this chapter is for y'all.
human dragon: honestly, I don't mind either. both are bad, but theres room for me to work with. I like morty more just cuz he uses a scythe. Scythe's are cool.
Arch Magos Belacaruius Cronus: Magos, apologies for a lack of tech priest glory. This will come. By the will of the Omnissiah I shall include the glorious cog boys. Thanks for the view on angron, I hope you'll enjoy what I have in store for him and all the other traitor primarchs.
Benjamin Bones: your words are too kind. Glad you enjoyed it. I aim to entertain, and its nice to hear I've hit the mark. Don't chu worry bout Fulgrim my man's, he's got a greeeeeeeat part in the future all lined up. ty for your outlook on morty and angron, its appreciated and helps me make my decisions easier. Hope to catch you for next chapter my man.
Maitre Inquisiteur: thank you ;)
GodsgiftFires: Keeping it up my good sir, have no fear. Thank you for the justification on the morty choice, I will take note of this.
AlphariusMagyar: I can't tell you how long I've been itching to let Lucian loose. But, everyone moment in the story has to feel earned, otherwise it's just some shitty op power fantasy. I promise you, I've got some goooood shennangins lined up for later. This story will keep going for as long as y'all are enjoying it.
The Lone Swordswolf: ty for the lore. I spend a lot of my time researching, so thank you for backing up your dislike with actual literary points
Hunter19941: thanks for the review my mans, appreciate it. Glad your enjoying my take on warp stuff.
fdsadsaw: i agree. I just wanna work with the one people hate MORE, just because it allows me to see if there are any redeemable aspects to them. Morty and Angron just happen to be some of the more contested primarchs regarding people's dislike of not just their characters, but the actual writing behind them.
And that's that.
Gotta give me some time to do some more lore reading stuff. Gotta figure out where certain things find their place, as well as some adjust some future points.
I have another request for y'all.
What's something in 40k Lore that's left ambiguous? Something where the right answer hasn't been found yet.
Since The Mortal Son is pretty much a story tying together loose ends over the course of an epic tale, the more threads I can get the better. So let me know. Anything that isn't clear if someone died, or who won, or where an individual went, lmk in a review, and hopefully I can include it in the story.