Macragge, the jewel of the Ultima Segmentum, had fallen. The walls of its fortresses broken, its pristine cities were aflame, its people screaming as hordes of grinning heretics offered them up as sacrifices to Khorne, Tzeentch and Slaanesh. Unholy monuments were being erected, and dark rites performed to call upon the favor of the Gods whose laughter echoed in the souls of all present. Mechanized horrors stalked the ruins for Imperial survivors, dragging them out of their hiding places and adding them to the sacrificial pyres.
The broken corpses of Ultramarines were scattered on the ground where the Chapter had made its last stand, surrounded by a veritable sea of mortal bodies. Their mingled blood spread in a pool in which the faces of the damned were reflected, distorted in silent, endless agony. Above, the skies were blazing with Warp-fire, and swarms of cackling Neverborn dense enough to blot out the sun flew, occasionally leaving the atmosphere to gnaw on the carcasses of what had once been the proud fleet of a First Founding Chapter.
On a throne made of the defiled bones of Primarch Guilliman and his sons, the one responsible for all this devastation sat clad in an immense suit of crimson armor, the transhuman blood that covered it almost completely masking the fell sigils emblazoned upon the metal which proclaimed its wearer's allegiance to Chaos. The armor's helmet was off, revealing a face hideously warped by the boons of the Dark Gods yet unmistakable all the same. A pair of wicked horns grew from its forehead, casting a shadow on its face that was pierced by the hellish glow of its eyes - two where they should be, and a third on the forehead, right between the horns. The air around it shimmered, showing brief glimpses of a figure that was equally beautiful and terrible holding it in a lascivious embrace, while hundreds of lesser heretics prostrated themselves before the throne of bones' occupant, voices raised in praise and supplication.
The Chaos warlord smiled at me, and I quivered at the sight of its pointed teeth, each carved with a Chaos rune, before it bit into the heart of Marneus Calgar, tearing out a chunk of meat before swallowing, the blood of the legendary Chapter Master pouring down its chin.
"I am inevitable," said the Liberator with my voice.
I awoke, shaking and covered in sweat. With trembling fingers, I reached for the bottle of amasec on my nightstand. Without wasting time pouring myself a glass, I uncorked it and drank straight from the bottle, letting the burning sensation in my throat distract me from the nightmare.
And it had only been a nightmare, I told myself. A wild conjuration of my over-stressed mind, nothing more. I had never been on Macragge, had only heard stories about it at the Schola. Chances were, the real place was completely different from what my brain had made up – not that I was ever going to have the opportunity to check.
"Just a nightmare," I repeated to myself, putting the now empty bottle down and hugging myself, alone in my bed, surrounded by the luxurious fineries of a man I'd killed to save my own hide. "Just a nightmare."
It wasn't the first time I had that nightmare or another like it, and unfortunately, it probably wouldn't be the last. Sometimes it was Macragge; sometimes it was Baal, the home of the Blood Angels; sometimes it was Valhalla; and once, in a particularly horrible one, it had even been Holy Terra itself.
But always, always the dream would end the same way : with that awful thing looking at me through the dream, and speaking those same words. Threat, promise of prophecy, I did not know and was terrified to find out. I wanted to kneel, to pray to the God-Emperor for forgiveness, but I knew that it would not come – that I didn't deserve it, and perhaps never would.
"Just a nightmare …"
AN : Happy Halloween, everyone !
I know this short somewhat clashes with the tone of the rest of the story, but I didn't have any idea for what to write for the occasion, until inspiration struck last night (because of course it did instead of coming during the week-end when I actually had free time, why wouldn't it) and I wrote this today. As a result, it is of questionable canonicity to the rest of the story, but it should serve as an exemple of why Cain is drinking quite so heavily.
Fun fact : according to WordCounter, this little omake is exactly 666 words long. Make of that what you will.
I'm going to focus on AYGWM for the immediate future, in order to fulfill my goal of finishing that story by the end of the year. Expect that fic's next chapter to come out relatively soon.
Zahariel out.