Day 35

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

Kalak Bronzeblood was screaming that mantra, over and over, thrashing in the empty void against chains that did not exist, wasting air that was not real. This was no thought-crafted form, brought here gently like a glass of water being poured into the ocean, this was a thing, a real thing, dragged here through brute force. The Star Road that had brought him or, rather, the shadow of that extradimensional existence, floated through the void, dancing about the rampaging beastman, easily dodging the infinitely slower creature's attacks, weaving and pirouetting with grace beyond any dancer or athlete.

Though, to call this… thing a beastman at this point was being generous in the extreme. Before, Kalak had been at least human in silhouette, if not in appearance. However, as he'd struck down more and more of his enemies and, slightly more rarely, members of the very horde he had led into battle, it seemed Khorne, or whatever portion of the Blood God had seen fit to watch, had bestowed more and more 'gifts' upon him, further changing his already mutated form.

Eight, bloodshot eyes with pupils the color of brass stared into the darkness, blinking at random in a skull that was twice the size of a man's, framed by a gnarled and twisted pair of horns longer than most people's arms. His torso and legs had both grown massive, pulsing with unnatural musculature. His hooves had each split in two, allowing newer, larger ones to replace them, the old hooves almost like an armor for his ankles. The fur that had once covered his body was now patchy and fading, falling out in places, replaced by oozing slime, dark carapace, or bare bone in others. One of his arms was a writhing tendril, wrapped around and fused to a chain-axe whose head had changed, becoming a maw that joined its master in screaming that same mantra. His other axe had also fused to an arm that was massive and glowed below the skin, as though blood like molten copper flowed through it. In the Materium, it had been shining, though now it seemed to have dimmed slightly.

Well, you can still talk. That's a point in favor of you not fully devolving into a chaos spawn yet.

Tide studied the newest and, in some ways, first 'real' guest of his Domain. The idea to try and bring someone into this place had not been entirely his own. The Star Road had awoken new possibilities for him, this was merely one of them. He'd had to capture the beastman with a specially prepared trap and Flood form before the Star Road was 'willing' to transport him, not that it could have denied him in the first place, but the effect was ultimately the same: Kalak was here.

Tide had been unwilling to risk using the normal means, infection via his spores, on any but the lowest ranking of Chaos cultists, those without obvious mutations. He hadn't meant to infect even them, but he'd been left without a choice by their prior kidnapping of a PDF trooper from Malum. The man had been knocked unconscious and Tide had not stopped him from breathing out spores. An oversight he didn't intend to repeat.

Upon finding out just where the trooper had been taken and who by, Tide had maintained a very close eye on the situation as it developed. He had infected a few dozen cultists because of the accidental exposure, fortunately none were very mutated or far gone. Extensive viewing of their memories revealed they knew virtually nothing save for the fact that they served a Chaos Space Marine sorcerer, though more out of fear than anything else. He'd stopped them from producing spores of their own and caused all other spores floating around to essentially go inert. They were still there, still being breathed in… but they would do no infecting or spreading.

Was it a squandering of a possibly valuable military asset? Absolutely. Did he particularly care about that loss? Not remotely. Not only was he nearly finished taking Janus from the cults, making even the benefits of saboteurs and inside information relatively insignificant, he also wasn't sure how his own abilities would interact with Chaos mutations and influence. Whether he'd be able to overpower them or not was irrelevant, what he was afraid of was the possibility of someone, or something, noticing him.

He'd taken pains to not directly expose his true nature to them. He didn't mind acting openly against the genestealers, their complete destruction was mere days away after all and they had no way to contact the wider Tyranid Hive Mind with the Warp Storm still ongoing. Even if the storm subsided, Tide was less afraid of the Tyranids than he was of Chaos. The Tyranids would likely only think of him as something to avoid. Chaos… Well, there were a number of routes they could potentially take to deal with him, but none of them were particularly desirable.

The creation of the Star Road may have seemed like an oversight in that regard, given how massive that celestial event had been, at least to his own senses. Was it in vain to hope that no one else possessed those senses? Perhaps. But, the augurs of the hive cities had detected nothing, nor had any eyes he'd had access to been able to see the tears of the stars falling towards Limos. There could be technologies, not to mention psychic abilities, that might be able to feel such things, but Tide had no idea who might have them or what their reactions would be.

All that to say, what was he thinking bringing a Chaos cultist, let alone one who was well on his way to becoming a Chaos Spawn into this place that was essentially his own mind, the place where he was at his most powerful yet also could be vulnerable in unforeseen ways?

Why do you think I brought him here?

"I have an idea, but I'm afraid of you saying its correct," Aliciel replied, watching as the Chaos mutant slashed through emptiness, attempting to cut through a filament made of starlight and failing utterly, the newborn Star Road having already weaved around the half-spawn's strike with amusing ease. The creature screamed in rage and fury, little more than a rampaging beast.

It might be.

"Are you really going to try and set…" Aliciel tried to swallow her disgust. She didn't succeed. "That on the same road you've encouraged me to walk?"

I can assure you, I am not.

Aliciel sighed in relief.

Not yet, anyways.

Aliciel sighed in something that was very much not relief.

"It's a Chaos-corrupted mutant. That's two of the three things I was taught to abhor, practically from birth. I have seen villains made of either alone and I have struck down monsters who were both."

Mutation isn't inherently wicked.

"You have told me thus. But what about Chaos worship?" Aliciel asked drily.

That's definitely bad… But nothing we can't change. Nothing he can't change for himself.

Aliciel snorted in disbelief. "You want to try and get this… thing to recognize its past sins? I don't think it's even capable of a coherent thought, let alone consideration of the self."

Its capable of repeating 'Blood for the Blood God' over and over. And, at the moment, I'm less interested in getting Kalak here to do some introspection and more in getting him to… well, calm down for starters.

"Are you even sure this is safe?"

His body and his soul are both within this realm. He's cut off from the Warp entirely. No more whispers in his skull, no daemons trying to possess him, no more 'gifts'. Well, other than what he already has.

"And is what he already has safe?" Aliciel asked. The former Sister of Battle was taking this whole thing surprisingly well. She hadn't tried to set fire to Tide's mind yet, which was very promising. More than that, she was actually willing to hear him out, which was also delightful.

The Blood God isn't a big fan of secret traps and hidden daemons, if that's what you mean. Most of these 'gifts' are meant to make him better at chopping off heads.

"That doesn't answer my question. Are you sure this is safe?"

Well… reasonably sure.

Aliciel felt a migraine coming on, which was incredible given that she had not felt even a glimmer of pain other than that inflicted by old memories since she had been brought to this place.

"These are dark times…" Aliciel said, shaking her head.

The times in this galaxy are always dark, yet people still think they can brighten them up by being even darker.

Aliciel chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know. We're pretty good at setting things on fire." She heard a similar laugh echo around her.

That you are.

"Where would you even begin?"

I think you mean, where would 'we' even begin.

Aliciel stared very hard at the endless void. Tide, for whatever reason, chose not to take on an avatar at the moment to give her something to glare at. "You can't be serious."

I'd like your help with this one.

"Why?!" Aliciel cried out. "I… I don't know the first thing about… I don't even know what to call this! Do you want to domesticize him or something?"

Mm… well, I guess it gets the general idea across, yes. We get him to calm down enough to have a thought other than 'MAIMKILLBURN' and then we try and get him to not fall back into that.

"I…" Aliciel shook her head. "Why go to all this effort for one person? Does he have information you need or something?"

I doubt it. Even if he did, its likely been wiped away or at least damaged by the corruption.

"Is he special somehow? Did you see him play an important role in a vision?"

I don't have visions. And, no, I don't think he could be considered particularly special, at least in the sense you describe.

"Then why?"

Because I want to. And if we can help someone as damaged as him… who can't we help?

Aliciel wondered if Tide was really as sane as she'd previously thought.

"You can't… help everyone," Aliciel said. "There's a tipping point, you know that right? A step too far, a line that gets crossed. A place they won't be able to come back from."

Maybe. Maybe not. Shall we find out together?

Aliciel sighed once more.

Corren found his seat just as he felt the train shift under him, its great wheels rumbling as they began their journey. Looking around, he was surprised to find he was not in a section of the train with just Guardsmen. There was a clear divide, right down the middle of the rows of dozens of seats facing each other. Guardsmen on one side… PDF on the other.

Malum PDF, specifically. The same men whose colonel had apparently received Inquisitorial authority to take command of the entire army sent to liberate the eastern hives. To say that had ruffled a few feathers would be beyond understatement, at least according to the rumors he'd heard. The higher-ups didn't seem happy, thinking it was a betrayal by the Inquisitor. That Malum seemed to consistently be showing up all the other hives in the last few weeks of madness didn't earn them any friends either. Not among the higher-ups, anyways.

The Guard itself was split on the subject, at least among the rank-and-file. Of those who were present and not trying to catch a few hours of sleep or cleaning their weapons, around half his fellow Guardsmen were either apathetic or outright glaring at the men and women across the aisle.

The PDF troopers didn't seem like they cared all too much. Some were making conversation with one another, others doing as some of the Guardsmen, cleaning equipment or already fast asleep.

The train was picking up speed, jostling them all back and forth. The doors into their little section of the train car slid open with a hiss, causing many to instinctively look over. Corren's eyes widened fractionally.

Stepping through the doors were troops with gear he had never seen before. They were wearing carapace armor, but it was a pattern he hadn't seen before, painted matte-black. Their helmets covered their entire heads, a tinted visor blocking any trace of their faces. They carried heavier looking autoguns than what the Malum PDF troopers were equipped with, along with an assortment of other weapons, including autopistols and combat knives. Their primary weapons were of a variety of designs, slung over their backs. There was a pair of sniper rifles, shotguns, assault rifles, even grenade and rocket launchers. The only symbol marking them were the letters 'ODST'. The meaning behind them was unknown to him.

The sixteen who entered all flanked a strange casket, nearly two-and-a-half meters long and a meter wide. It was sealed and entirely barren of markings save for the stamp of the Mechanicus on its upper side. The casket floated and was attended by a pair of servoskulls.

He noticed that several of the PDF were sitting up straighter now, some even tossing casual salutes as the black-armored soldiers passed by. They had an odd way of walking and he realized why: it was the same kind of walk he'd seen from Belleric, the Tempestus Scion he'd met following the Battle of Deimos against the greenskins. The walk of someone with complete and utter confidence in their own capabilities. It was almost incredible just how similar the movements were.

His eyes narrowed. Was it arrogance? Their gear was probably better than anyone in Corren's regiment, save perhaps for those with specialist gear like the plasma pistol currently strapped to his own side, though still inferior to the Scions themselves. These men appeared to at least have worked alongside the Malum PDF, assuming they weren't a part of them. Did they have the skills to match their gear? Or were they just overconfident because of their kit? Just who the hel were these guys and what was in the box?

The black-armored troopers crossed to the end of the section, though only half took their seats at the end of the aisle, not far from Corren himself. The other half remained standing, surrounding the casket with their weapons held tightly to their chests. Unlike those around them, even the ones sitting seemed almost at attention, straight-backed, staring blankly ahead. They all seemed almost unnatural in how still they were. Certainly, they were disciplined.

"Sulla," Corren whispered, elbowing the Guardsmen to his right as he did so. The snoozing woman awoke with a start, her training sending her halfway out of her seat as she went to salute a superior officer who wasn't there. Upon realizing what had happened, she sat back down, tossing him a dirty look he returned with a wry smile.

"I was dreaming, bastard." She seemed only annoyed by his smile.

"Sorry, need someone with your expertise," Corren replied and she raised an eyebrow. "You're from Malum, yeah?"

"Ugh, this again?" Sulla rolled her eyes. "If you're asking if I know about whatever military secrets Coris or whoever has, then forget about it."

"Sorry," Corren said with zero remorse in his voice. He nodded towards the black-armored troopers. "Do you know who they are, at least?"

Sulla leaned forward to see who he was talking about and he watched her eyes widen slightly. "Nope," She said after a moment. "Not a clue. That's some pretty nice kit they've got, though. You think they're from Malum?"

"Their PDF seems to know them, so I assumed," Corren said with a shrug. "They've got 'ODST' on their shoulders. Recognize that?"

"I've got nothing," Sulla admitted. "Could be new. A lot of new things in Malum, or so I hear."

"What about the casket?"

"That's mechanicus, why the hel would I know anything?"

"Right, yeah," Corren said, leaning back, slightly disappointed. "It makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"Well, did Malum really send its best to the Guard? I mean, if the PDF's got people like that-." Corren grunted with a snicker as Sulla socked him in the shoulder with enough force that he bumped into the Guardsman next to him, a man named Urloc who simply responded with a swear that would have made a more trigger-happy commissar reaching for his sidearm.

"Well, maybe they just make us tougher in Malum," Sulla replied with a grin as Corren rubbed his sore shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Cass…"

She didn't look back at Brunt, merely holding up a warning hand for silence. Slowly, she held out the tiny shard of a mirror into the hallway, slowly rotating it all about, scanning the reflected empty corridor for any signs of an enemy. When she found none, she still only whispered. "Do you think they're gone? Like… gone gone?"

"We were never that lucky," Brunt replied.

She gave him a small smile. "What do you call us surviving when it seems like everyone else is dead or with those things?"

Brunt shrugged and was about to reply when a bout of nausea sent Cass towards the wall. He was there in an instant, holding her steady while she regained her footing. "Ok," She said after a few deep breaths. "I'm ok-, ohhh, no, I'm not."

Cass doubled over and spewed vomit from her mouth. Brunt held her, uncaring that she was unloading her stomach's contents onto his boots. He rubbed gentle circles into her back with his wounded arm, ignoring the slight pain it caused him.

It was a few minutes before Cass was able to stand back up, wiping residue from her mouth and breathing in long, slow gulps of air.

"I think I hate being pregnant," Cass decided.

"It doesn't seem fun," Brunt provided sympathetically, receiving a glare that melted into a smile from Cass.

"I don't suppose we can trade," Cass said, chuckling. "Still, this was the worst possible time for it, I think."

"I don't think there was ever going to be a good time for the two of us," Brunt said, a dark look on his face. "Not down here. Not… for people like us."

She leaned against him and he held her tight for a few moments longer. For a while, they stayed like that, savoring each other's presence.

Cass pulled away. "It's clear, I think." Together, Cass holding her autogun at the ready while Brunt held an autopistol they'd found, they emerged into the corridor. "Where do you think they went? It's been days."

"I don't know," Brunt admitted. "Maybe they've got bigger problems than two survivors. Maybe they think we're dead by now."

"Maybe someone's fighting them off?" Cass suggested.

"Maybe," Brunt said. "If it's the Imperium… Well, I don't think we'll be able to stop hiding in any case."

"Maybe," Cass repeated.

Selene sat in her hab block, her only company the sleeping forms of her papa, her papa's papa, and her uncle. She stared down at a blank, white sheet that felt crisp under her tiny fingers.

Paper.

That was what the person in her dreams had told her it was called. 'Paper'. And, in her hands, which had begun to become something more than skeletal in appearance, was a quill. It was made of a 'feather' and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her four years of life. There were colors in it that she had never seen, shades she would never have known in all her life. Everything in the hive was dull gray or black or brown or a rusty red. There were other colors, but they were rare and usually just as dull. She had only ever known the vibrance of scarlet because of the blood spilled from the bodies of others.

Yet, this quill was like it had captured all the color of her tiny, gray world. Royal purple became vibrant red, which changed to fascinating orange, then to wondrous yellow, then to interesting green, and finally to blue.

Sky blue.

She had never seen the sky. She had been told it was high above them all, far higher than the ceiling of the hab block and the corridors. That had always seemed strange. And she had been told it was a black fog, like the breath of a furnace. Yet, in her dreams, she had seen the sky. And that sky had been a breathtaking blue.

That was her favorite color.

She pressed the tip of the quill onto the paper. The person in her dreams had spoken to her a lot about strange things. Distant things and things near to home. Selene didn't understand everything, but the person had said that was alright. He had seemed sad.

Then, the person in her dreams had told her that she'd find a quill and a piece of paper outside her hab block that night. He'd also told her what those things were and what she could do with them. When she'd woken up, she'd gone to look and found them, just as he'd said.

So, as she pressed the tip of the quill onto the paper, she imagined what the person in her dreams had shown her. The sky at noon, the sun hanging high, clouds lazily drifting through the sky. The color she held in her mind was the one the quill's ink took, as though she were scratching away some covering to reveal the vibrance underneath. She imagined… and then she began to draw.

She didn't really know what she was doing, of course. This was all new to her and she was only four. Before today, she had never picked up a quill. Before today, the last person even remotely related to her to have actually drawn something with anything remotely like a quill had died over three millennia ago, not that anyone would have known that.

So, her drawing was a poor copy of what she remembered. And she was frustrated by that fact, even as she filled the page, on both sides, with the scratches of the quill's color-shifting ink. She wasn't sure how long she was at it. Minutes or even hours. However, eventually, the piece of paper was covered in the white and yellow and orange and sky blue of her mind.

She heard something flutter behind her, like the wings of some underhive animals. She turned around, more surprised than anything resembling fear, and saw another piece of paper had fluttered to the ground outside her hab block.

Selene smiled. This time she would draw everyone she knew. Since only she and Papa's Papa stayed at home all day, she knew quite a lot of the people in her family! She even knew their names!

Papa was 'Nanel', Mama was 'Cory'. Papa's Papa was 'Orin'. Auntie was 'Peri' and Gillian was… well, Gillian! And then uncle was 'Jaco'. She hadn't seen uncle in a while, but she was sure he would be back from his shift soon. And when he was, she could show him the drawing of her and everyone!