Requiem of a broken dream

The year is 327.M45.

Magnus moved throughout his palace, nicknamed The Tower of the Cyclops upon the Planet of the Sorcerers, found within the Eye of Terror. Magnus softly walked past the few Sekhmet guards, stationed by the palace's entrance. He moved further and further into his home until he finally reached his personal library. As Magnus entered the library and psychically closed the reinforced door behind him, he noticed a creature standing before him beside the large redwood table he had made.

'Twas Kairos Fate weaver, a bright blue avion daemon with two beaked heads and blood red wings. It held its grand staff by its side and a dark brown cloak covering most of its body. Kairos's heads moved with a swiftness like a rearing snake as it spoke," Magnus, I bring a message from our lord.'

Magnus nodded uncaringly, motioning the blasted chicken to hurry. Kairos scoffed as he shook his head and said," Tzeentch is dissatisfied with your work, he urges you to spread chaos further. Your lack of success and achievements leaves him with less interest upon you." His second head spoke," There are other daemons happy to take your place, our lord warns you that he shall take your daemonic strengths away."

Magnus sighed as he said," I don't have the energy for your shenanigans Kairos. Ahriman takes care of the operations; I have no interest in overseeing such things. I have far more important matters to handle, more knowledge yet to find. And I shall not accomplish that with you wasting breath. Leave my palace daemon."

Kairos laughed hysterically that would spread terror upon any mortal being until he took back control of his second half. Kairos stared at Magnus and said," I shall leave Magnus, but you will regret your words soon. Disregarding and disappointing your lord is not a choice, I've killed countless daemons for far less. You are no different." With his last word, Kairos vanished, leaving Magnus to breath more clearly.

Magnus snickered and he walked around his library looking for various books to read. Time or whatever accounted for such a trivial idea within the warp flew past as Magnus greedily scoured numerous books until his table was hidden by the stacks of books upon it. He stopped when he noticed something fall out of the book he was currently reading onto the floor.

Magnus psychically picked up the thing and held it in front of him, levitating in the air. His eyes widened as he realized it was a bookmark that Perturabo made for him. Just how long has that been hidden in this book, he wondered? Thinking back on his brother, his train of thought refused to stop. Ancient memories of his brothers and his father flashed his mind at a mind breaking pace, forcing Magnus to stop, and hit his head with a solid smack with the butt of his clenched hand.

He growled at the pain from the old memories, like ripping skin off that's long past healed. He sighed and tried to refocus his mind on the book, but it didn't help. He gave up and tossed the book onto the table and quickly stood up. He decided to leave his library and head to his private sanctum. He held his arm up and moved his hands together with his fingers stretched out.

Within his hands, a small swirling dark purple ball of energy filled into existence. He slammed his hands together, breaking the energy between and exploding it into a small shower of glowing embers falling down and instantly teleported himself into his sanctum.

He sighed as he moved towards his archaic warp sign and sat down. Magnus struggled calming his mind and mediated his psyche into the warp. His third eye traveled the warp at blinding speed as he watched the chaotic energies of the warp swirl around. He eventually found Ahriman and a small group of his sons obliterating an Imperial Pleasure world. He honestly couldn't care or feel proud of such actions, especially when compared to his other fallen brothers. It only worsened his condition.

Despite being a daemon prince, not for the lack of trying of stopping that mind you, he was as sane as he ever used to be. Or was he? He learned how sly Chaos was, tricking people to see things that never happened and make them believe it to be the truth. When he failed so miserably so long ago, accidentally destroying his father's web way project, he learned how he was so utterly tricked into believing that was a good idea. Not destroying the web way project but getting past whatever psychic barriers father had created to warn him of Horus.

Or so he thought to be the best method of warning him fast. Did chaos plant that little seed of thought within him too? Only he found just how pointless it all was, his action caused insurmountable destruction upon Terra releasing hordes of endless daemons and his father believing Magnus had fallen, not to fucking mention the damn Nikaea ruling.

One damn thing leading another all just to sucker punch Magnus into Zceentch's control. None of this was what he wanted, millennia he pondered on why such accursed things took place. Was it his fathers fault for being so damn hard on him for being born with powers, the very same powers fathers has? Was solely because of the chaos entities? Or the overly complex planning of his fallen brothers, Lorgar and Horus? Or why had he majorly fucked up in everything he ever accomplished?

It always felt that he put extra effort into everything he did yet constantly fail. Why did father refuse to teach us about the warp or what dwelled within? Let alone how to use and most importantly, control our powers? Did he believe that chaos would simply stay away from his sons? Or was it the fact that he never cared for us from the start? Magnus fought to contain his mind and keep it from spiraling, but he was slowly losing.

All Magnus could do was sigh until he was soon interrupted by a psychic message. A heavily synthetic voice spoke," Greetings, will you accept a collect call from (ERROR)?" Magnus looked around puzzled before replying yes. The voice changed to a deep and far more sinister voice snarling," Is your cold storage running?"

Magnus became even more confused and promptly said," Uh, I don't have one." All Magnus could hear on the other end was the voice quickly saying,' Ah fuck." Magnus chuckled as he said," Is this a blasted prank call? Who in the blazes is this?" All Magnus could hear was someone snickering on the other end as Magnus pieced this odd even together. Magnus laughed and said," Damn it, is that you Lorgar?" The laughing stopped with a stern voice spoke,' I was wondering when you'd put it together brother but seriously, why don't you have a cold storage? Where do you even keep your collection of loyalist hearts?"

Magnus frowned as he said," Lorgar, we're daemon princes. We have no need to eat or drink, but the fuck do you mean where my collection of loyalist hearts are? That's just nasty brother. I'd expect that from Mortarion or Angron but you? That's honestly a surprise." Lorgar chuckled as he spoke," Fine, I guess we don't all need to share similar hobbies to get along. I will put in a few words to Perturabo to make you a high-quality cold storage. If not hearts, brother. Why not their brains? Some cultures respect the brains of their enemies, saying they would make the warrior stronger. Wouldn't hurt right?"

Magnus sighed as he said," Brother, I don't have enough words to describe just how many things are wrong with what you just said. Regardless Lorgar, what was with that synthetic voice at the beginning of the call?" Lorgar laughed as he said," Aww, don't be such a stick in the mud brother. But to answer your question, had a dark Mechanicus Magos owe me a favor. It's amazing what they'll do for the simplest of gifts."

A long pause erring in silence before Lorgar quickly spoke," Ah damn it, apologies brother. I've gotta go. Some dumbass sons of mine decided to make a chain blade scythe and accidently killed several death guard marines. Pretty sure Mortarion is going to be pissed so I've gotta leave to handle this shitshow. Good speaking with you brother." Magnus laughed as he said," Good speaking with you as well brother. Wish you luck dealing with that mess." The psychic line broke and As Magnus chuckled, another voice suddenly chimed in through the psychic connection, cutting through the mirth with a sharp tone.

"Ah, Magnus, always finding amusement in the chaos, aren't you?" came the voice of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, with a hint of amusement lacing his words. Magnus's expression shifted, his amusement giving way to a more guarded demeanor. "What do you want, Tzeentch?" he asked warily.

"Oh, nothing much, just enjoying the show," Tzeentch replied casually. "But I couldn't resist popping in to offer a suggestion. Why limit yourself to hearts or brains? There's a whole universe of possibilities out there for your collection." Magnus raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and apprehension flickering in his eyes. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Tzeentch's voice took on a mysterious tone, weaving through the ether like a whispered promise. "Imagine the power you could wield with the souls of your enemies, trapped and bound to your will. Or perhaps artifacts of ancient knowledge, ripe for your manipulation. The possibilities are endless, Magnus." Magnus considered Tzeentch's words for a moment, the temptation of such power tantalizing yet dangerous. "I'll... consider your suggestion, Tzeentch," he finally replied, his voice tinged with caution.

"Of course, Magnus, of course," Tzeentch chuckled softly. "Just remember, the path to true enlightenment is often paved with the most unexpected treasures." With that cryptic message, the psychic connection faded, leaving Magnus once again alone with his thoughts. As he pondered Tzeentch's words, a sense of unease lingered in the air, a reminder of the ever-shifting schemes of the Chaos Gods.

Exhaustion quicky overwhelmed him and felt his body cry out for sleep. He left his private meditation room and walked further up the palace stairs until he reached his personal room. As spartan as it is, aside from a few loose books strewn around. As Magnus drifted into sleep ontop of his own bed, his thoughts swirled with a tumultuous mix of emotions and uncertainties. Despite his weariness, his mind refused to grant him respite, instead plunging him into a dream that felt foreign and unsettling, a realm beyond his control. Within the depths of his subconscious, Magnus found himself adrift in a landscape that defied all logic and reason. Strange and twisted forms loomed in the shadows, their presence ominous and foreboding.

Anxiety gripped Magnus's heart as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, his senses overwhelmed by the surreal imagery that surrounded him. Every step he took seemed to lead him deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of his own mind, each twist and turn revealing new horrors lurking in the darkness. Try as he might to assert control, Magnus found himself powerless against the tide of his own subconscious. It was as if the dream itself held him captive, a prisoner of his own fears and insecurities.

Desperation clawed at Magnus's soul as he searched for an escape, his mind racing with thoughts of the waking world beyond. But no matter how hard he tried, the dream refused to release its hold on him, ensnaring him in its twisted embrace. And as Magnus struggled against the confines of his own mind, a sense of dread washed over him, the realization sinking in that he was trapped within the depths of his own subconscious, with no hope of escape. He watched in amazement as the realm transformed into a thick and heavy mountainous forest. Cries of birds and howling could clearly be heard and rolling fog clouded the distance, reducing his own visibility.

His eyes widened nervously as he watched a large golden hawk swoop at high speeds in front of him, landing upon a low handing branch. Magnus watched the bird as it seemed to stare intently at him. This certainly was no regular bird, that much was obvious. The bird continued to stare for a while and the nervousness only grew within Magnus. The bird within a blink of an eye flashed down onto the ground, transforming into a young boy.

The boy's words echoed in Magnus's mind, stirring a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within him. Anger, confusion, and a flicker of curiosity warred for dominance as he regarded the enigmatic figure before him. "Lost son, Magnus the Red of the Thousand Sons," the boy had said, his voice carrying an otherworldly resonance that sent a shiver down Magnus's spine. "I came here to deliver a message."

Magnus's brow furrowed in suspicion, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the boy's appearance. The sight of the young human, so out of place in the chaotic landscape of the warp, filled him with a sense of unease. "Who in the blazes are you?" Magnus demanded; his voice tinged with a hint of menace. "A Messenger of Tzeentch? Or one of my brothers?"

The boy's gaze remained steady; his golden eyes boring into Magnus's with an intensity that belied his youthful appearance. "I am but a conduit," the boy replied cryptically, his voice resonating with an otherworldly timbre. "A vessel for a message long overdue." Magnus felt a surge of frustration welling up inside him, the weight of centuries of betrayal and manipulation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. "I care not for your words," he growled, his fists clenching at his sides. "Leave now before I expel you out and tear your soul apart."

The boy's expression remained impassive, as if unfazed by Magnus's threats. "As you wish," he said simply, his voice echoing through the silent expanse of the warp. With a flicker of movement, the boy vanished into the ether, leaving Magnus alone with his thoughts. And as he stood there, surrounded by the swirling mists of the warp, a sense of unease gnawed at his insides, a nagging feeling that this encounter was far from over.

Oh, how right he was, as he felt the forest crack and twist apart. An earthquake of unimaginable scale easily obliterated the forest, the ground opening up as maws of a titan sized beast and swallowing all whole. Magnus could do nothing, his powers refused to obey his will. All he could do was scream in terror as he fell into the deep dark.

Time meant little for a primarch, let alone a daemon prince but even he could not tell just how long he had spent falling. Nothing he could grab or find within the dark, he couldn't even see himself for how thick the abyss was. His eyes shut closed in response as the darkness swirled in brightness and his environment morphed once again.

His brain seemed to pause as he realized he was within the Golden Throne room. Was he teleported here? But how? Who? As he looked around, he struggled to acknowledge this reality. Numerous ranks of Custodians filled the room which puzzled him even more. As he stepped closer, one of the custodians turned and walked through him. Magnus was puzzled as he thought to himself," A memory? What the hell is going on here?"

Magnus phased through the horde of custodians and stumbled back when he saw what was happening. His father within his signature golden armor was heavily wounded, he watched as his father stumbled towards the throne. Leaving puddles of thick blood as a cruel trail. Magnus screamed," WHY? WHY MUST I WATCH THIS?!" His barking proved pointless, nothing to hear him. Magnus continued to watch when he felt his left hand being pulled.

He looked down to his side and saw it was the same young boy from before. Magnus fought his tears from breaking the damn further as he said," Are you responsible for this? Who even are you?" The boy looked up at him and said," Hold me so I can see as well." Magnus sighed and picked the boy up into his own hold and the two watched the scene unravel further. He listened as he heard the strained voice of his father speak,' "Behold the greatest sacrifice of our age! Malcador is Sigillite no more. Henceforth he shall always and only ever be Malcador the Hero!" The two watched further as the ashes were carefully cleaned off the throne and the Custodians assisting the dying Emperor onto the Throne.

The young boy in his arms spoke and said," Understand why this memory is shared. This was the consequence of your actions, regardless of your intentions." Magnus looked down at the boy who stared daggers into Magnus as he further explained," You did this to us. If you hadn't obliterated the psychic walls within the warp, we would be very much alive. Malcador would not have had his soul destroyed as a sacrifice. Do you have the slightest understanding of what you did? "Magnus stared at the boy, his expression a mixture of disbelief and defiance. " Magnus felt something, he couldn't explain what he was feeling.

He simply spoke softly," Your wording is too precise to be an accident, are you claiming to be my father? You expect me to believe that?" he retorted, his voice laced with skepticism. "After all this time, all the pain and suffering you've caused, you have the audacity to claim to be my father?" The boy met Magnus's gaze; his eyes unwavering. "Believe what you will, Magnus," he replied evenly. "But the truth remains the same. Whether you choose to accept it or not is up to you. I am but a sliver of his broken soul."

Magnus scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "And what does this... shard of my father's psyche have to say to me?" he asked, his tone dripping with disdain. The boy hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "He wishes to speak to you," he said finally, his voice soft yet insistent. "To offer you answers, closure... perhaps even redemption."

Magnus's eyes narrowed, his fists tightening at his sides. "Redemption?" he echoed, his voice tinged with scorn. "After all he's done? There can be no redemption for him, not after what he's put me through." The boy shook his head, a sad smile playing across his lips. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But he still wishes to try. To make amends, in whatever small way he can. In truth, he seeks redemption within you"

Magnus fell silent, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Could it be true? Could his father truly seek redemption after all these millennia? Or was it just another trick, another manipulation to further his own ends? Finally, Magnus spoke, his voice low and gruff. "Tell him... tell him I'll hear what he has to say," he said, his words heavy with reluctance. "But make no mistake... this changes nothing."

With a solemn nod, the boy vanished into thin air, leaving Magnus alone with his thoughts. And as he stood there in the darkness, a sense of unease gnawed on his insides, a whisper of doubt that lingered long after the boy had gone. He watched as the scene of such old memory fade, the environment fading and twisting into an empty and colorless void. Not a single thing existed in whatever realm this was, only to be changed when the golden hawk exploded into existence flying towards Magnus.

The hawk swooped down and gracefully landed on his shoulder. Magnus continued to be confused with what was even happening. The hawk spoke with the same voice as the boy earlier and said," I shall open a portal for the palace Magnus, it will be up to you to go through and find the throne room. This is the extent of the help I shall give you with one requirement. No blood will be shed with your arrival. He wishes for no fighting to occur, are you capable of doing this?" Magnus sighed as he pinched his nose and said," I will comply, but what am I to do if they fire upon me regardless?" The hawk chuckles and crudely replied," Tell them that you have the Emperor's mark, they'll understand." Mere seconds after speaking, a thick golden coin with the Emperor's Aquila symbol on both sides warp into existence within Magnus's right hand." Don't lose that and good luck, you'll need it."

Magnus watch as a massive multi colored shimmering portal appeared infront of them, the portal swirling at high speeds, the hawk beckoning Magnus to step through quickly. As Magnus set a foot within the portal, the hawk upon his vanished. The portal greedily pulled him in and Magnus opened to find...nothing. Everything was dark and a creeping feeling of regret lingered as he continued to be cradled within the nothingness.

Notes

Heya folks, first chapter is up and already working on the next. Feel free to leave a review.