**Author's note: 100 chapters and still going strong! Thank you everyone for reading!**
The bridge felt bigger again as all the metal seemed to glow with a vivacious light! Was he going mad? The Warp shades had also reappeared! What was happening?!
Holographic astropath Virgil Allegrii couldn't believe what he was seeing as he stood (or floated) nervously on the inconsistent bridge of the Divine Retribution. It felt like he was witnessing something forbidden. He felt guilty for even being here, but he dared not look away.
Virgil watched as the form of an average-sized man in dark trousers and a black shirt glitched between many different forms as he nervously paced back and forth on the bridge, with each of his features having long dark hair, a crown of gold laurels, and brilliant gold eyes. One of his "forms" was an evocative shape, a gigantic man three times the astropath's own size, and he wore heroic gold armor and had long dark hair. In his heart, he knew who this incredible gold warrior was, and he again felt guilty for even witnessing this unusual candid moment.
Every time this man's body glitched, the size of the bridge shifted along with him, as if they were both connected somehow. It was as if his body couldn't decide on a proper shape, and he flickered like an unstable image on a cogitator.
The legendary godlike individual then stopped as if collecting himself, and his flickering body became more substantial, now almost appearing real. Virgil held his breath, still not quite believing what he was seeing.
"Thanks for coming by, Saint Germain," the man in gold laurels spoke clearly as his body transitioned to being average-sized again. Again, he retained his gold eyes, long dark hair, and his bright gold laurels. The young man's form seemed to stabilize, and when he spoke, his voice was a low fearful hush. "I've not been doing so well lately, as everyone has probably guessed, and I-I think I saw him again. The king with the long white hair."
Another shade of a man then flickered into existence nearby. The newcomer was of average height, and had fair skin and shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair that he kept tied back. This, Virgil assumed, was Saint Germain. Saint Germain wore what appeared to be the clothes of a wealthy hive world noble or a heroic rogue trader with a trim burgundy doublet over black trousers and tall stylish dark boots. In his left hand, he leaned on a dark cane which terminated with a gold eagle's head with three jeweled eyes. This man could pass as any sort of wealthy noble anywhere in the Imperium, and was entirely average in that matter, but for one thing:
He had eyes of dark gold, eyes that were remarkable even from where Virgil secretly watched this discussion off to the side of the bridge. Currently, those distinctive watchful eyes were observing the young man who wore the gold laurels as he shifted his weight as if unsettled. Saint Germain wore a kind expression, and began to speak. "Do you mean the same king ghost you saw last month, Bastian? The white-haired man wearing a crown and bearing the Key?"
"Yes," Bastian said with a nod. "The other Inheritor."
Bastian.
His name was Bastian, Virgil thought with breathless awe...
"What did he say that troubles you so much, my friend?" Saint Germain asked.
And he had a friend named Saint Germain, the astropath wondered in amazement. Why hadn't he been recorded through history?
As he studied him, Virgil noticed that this "Bastian" certainly did not appear very majestic. Aside from his bright gold eyes and laurel crown, this man appeared entirely human. He could be any Imperial nobleman breaking hearts in high society parties. The distinctive (but still somehow godlike) young man definitely appeared troubled as he spoke with Saint Germain.
Bastian shook his head. "You know how I've been not feeling well lately, right? The vertigo, the headaches, all that? The problems with my heart?" Bastian reached to briefly grip the Key around his neck. There was a slight pause, and it appeared that the young man was thinking carefully on how to respond. When Bastian spoke again, his words were quiet and furtive, almost as if he did not want others to hear what he had to say. "That ghost king, I think he noticed my issues, and he had an explanation for what he saw. The king says it's from the integration with the Divine Intervention, the ship he says he used to call Divine Majesty. He told me a lot of things, detailed what he had been through it as captain. He said he had just talked to our 'sister', but wouldn't explain who that was. He said a lot of confusing things."
"The Divine Majesty? Never heard of it, but I suppose that makes sense. From what we know, the ship likes to remove itself from memory and history when idle," Saint Germain spoke, gripping his eagle cane. "But, this sounds more like a cause for celebration. You now have more of a frame of reference on this vessel's function, maybe more of what it can do after speaking with a previous Inheritor. Tell me then: what troubles you so about the king's words?"
Bastian closed his eyes again before speaking, and his Corona flashed gold around his head and shoulders, which caused Virgil to quietly gasp. "The king told me many things. But, something stood out. When I asked about his power, and his nature, he told me that, no doubt, I would become strong like him. I'd be a ruler of humankind. But, it had a cost." Bastian then actually shuddered. He then gripped the Key in his hand again with white knuckles. "He said that inevitably, when I consume too much life, that death would catch up to me. He said that one day I'd die. The king even smiled when he said that! Actually, well, he told me that Sebastian would die, and that the fire within me would live. I don't know what he meant, and he was gone before I could ask him any more questions."
"Bastian, we're immortal," Saint Germain offered in a conciliatory tone. "You're still young in soul, and you are a newcomer to this universe, just as I. Your body is very old, and has lived many lifetimes before you came to this reality. My body has been alive for some time, and in those years, I've managed to 'die' without truly dying. Death does not need to trouble you, my friend. Just because some ghost of a past captain tells you these things does not mean that it is true. From what you told me of that manifestation, he doesn't seem like the most honorable of kings."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Bastian replied with a heavy sigh. "I just have a bad feeling about this. About everything. I don't know." The young man then walked to stand ahead of the central eye window of the bridge, and leaned against it. "We've been going from world to world and things keep getting worse. And I keep getting worse. Every time I see death, I feel worse. And these souls I consume, they're hurting me. The king was right about that at least. Everything, just about everything feels like it's crumbling in this reality. I'm having these... these visions of the future, and they're not good. They terrify me, like I told you before."
"Visions can be misinterpreted, and as someone with similar gifts, try to focus on the present," Saint Germain replied warmly, walking up behind Bastian and offering a comforting hand pat on his shoulder. "But, I will confirm with you again that you cannot die."
The scene then violently glitched to an image of a mummified man in incredible agony integrated into a terrifying golden machine! In a split second, it was gone, and Bastian cried out as he stepped away from the window, his gold eyes forced shut and his Corona wreathing him in powerful light. He wailed in misery at what he had seen!
"I-I just saw it again!" Bastian explained, pitching over. He then broke out in an immediate sweat, and began to breathe heavily. Saint Germain stood by, concerned. "The monster on the throne! It looks like this throne! I just saw it again!" The young man pointed to the central throne of the Divine Retribution.
"Remember what we talked about. Visions can be subjective, Bas. It doesn't have to be literal. Maybe there is something to interpret, or perhaps it is false? It could be an interpretation on how you feel when you are integrated into the Divine Intervention. Visions can be tricky things, my friend. Please try to remember that."
Bastian shook his long haired head. Briefly, the gold glow of his Corona flashed bright enough to illuminate the entire bridge. "And do you know what else the white king said? He said that when I start sweating light, that that's when I would know the end was near. He said that's what happens when your soul is crushed. He said my soul is being crushed. H-how does that even happen? What does that mean?!"
"When was the last time you slept, Bas?" Saint Germain gently asked as he critically observed Bastian as he trembled in fear.
"The things I see. Everything! The future of this reality is dark and cold, consumed by nightmares!" The young man gestured in a grandiose manner. "I feel as if everything is doomed!" Bastian's voice began to crack as he began to fight tears. "And, listen to this: More than anything I want to go home, but everyone in this universe will suffer if I don't intervene and help them! This sounds crazy, but it feels like someone wants to keep me here!" The young man then paused to compose himself, and took a deep breath as he opened his eyes again. "So, I was thinking about this earlier. Maybe we shouldn't go home? Maybe if we stay, we can-"
The sound of someone clearing their throat echoed in this wide space. A newcomer of average height then walked into the scene. He wore plain dark robes, and his cloak hood was up, concealing his features.
"Good evening, Mal," Saint Germain said, his voice clipped. "We were just having a private conversation."
"A private conversation? Is that true, Bas? I thought we all trusted each other," Mal said, continuing to walk confidently into the room. "We should all trust one another on this ship. We as The Undying are entrusted with great power, and that power must always come from a source that flows of truth and honesty. Holding secret meetings away from the rest of the crew isn't very becoming of you, Saint Germain."
"I called him here, Malachi. Don't worry about it," Bastian hastily replied, wiping his tears on his hand.
"Bastian, I do so worry for you, you know," Mal replied. The cloaked figure then seemed to briefly observed Saint Germain. Despite not being able to see his features, Virgil could feel that Mal was watching Saint Germain with a sense of distrust.
Bastian did not respond to this, as his eyes had grown distant. Virgil watched as the young man briefly glitched into his giant form with gold armor again. Now, the giant was alone on the bridge, which was also now inexplicably expansive to accommodate him. The astropath felt like a small child in proportion to the heroic giant figure. The giant was staring out the center window of the Divine Retribution's head, his armored back to Virgil. He extended his left arm, and tapped his massive lightning claw up against the metal beside the window.
It sounded like rain was falling upon the glass, and a deep metallic tapping could be heard from the giant's tapping lightning claw. The figure appeared deep in thought.
He then abruptly turned around, and made sudden brief eye contact with Virgil from above! Before the astropath could react in any way, the gold giant glitched and shimmered back into his more normal "human" form once again. The young man was now standing beside Saint Germain and Mal as they both bickered, but his attention actually now somehow seemed to be on Virgil.
"You, there!" Bastian suddenly said to the astropath, and even pointed directly at him!
"Me?" Virgil stammered, pointing at his own chest. Bastian's shape shimmered, and he nodded.
"He's not well right now, you see," Saint Germain said to Mal. "Bas wanted to speak of his troubles alone with me. We are friends. Is that alright with you?" There was an knife of hostility in Saint Germain's voice.
By the appearance of Mal, Virgil had now deduced that this cloaked man might actually be Malcador the Sigilite, despite him being called "Malachi" by Saint Germain. The astropath wondered again what Saint Germain had done to find himself stricken from any historical records. From this small interaction, it definitely appeared that Bastian and he had a good friendship.
Virgil's thoughts were interrupted by Mal's rich voice explaining himself. "I'm not saying it isn't right. What I'm saying is that we should all trust each other, Saint Germain. This vessel and its integrated captain are, from what we understand now, the most powerful singular destructive forces for humankind and-"
Mal's voice seemed to trail off into inaudibility as Bastian continued to fixate on Virgil. A strange sensation then fell over the hologram, and around him, colors became slightly desaturated and the movements of the other shades slowed greatly. His intuition informed him that time was being affected.
"I've seen you before. You and that pale woman, I have seen you both together on the bridge. Who are you?" Bastian's voice was a hush. "Can you hear me? Can you respond?"
Virgil could only nod.
"Good, good," Bastian replied with a brief smile. "Can you see them? My crewmembers?"
Virgil nodded again.
"I don't know how much you saw, but they don't understand," Bastian said, shaking his head. "Everyone thinks I'm going mad. I just, I sometimes get overloaded with this thing and I need someone to talk to, you know?" Bastian showed Virgil his Key as he again gripped it tightly. "Forgive me, but can you tell me when you are? Do you know if you're ahead or behind in time of me? We now think that the ghosts are actually reflections of people from the past or future."
"Ahead, I think," Virgil finally was able to respond in a very small voice. "Are y-you the Emperor?"
"The what?" Bastian asked, appearing briefly confused. He then blinked rapidly, shrugged, and began to quickly speak. "Not sure how much time we have but hello, pleased to meet you, I'm the present captain of the vessel you're in, the Divine Intervention. No one calls me 'Emperor', but I've been called the 'Weeping King' before, and others called me 'Revelation' awhile ago. Honestly, I'm fine with simply being Sebastian, but my friends here just call me Bastian. You're the second ghost I've been able to talk to!"
Virgil found himself prostrating himself wordlessly to the floor.
"You don't need to do that, man," Bastian chuckled. "Maybe your captain is tough and demands it but I don't. I like to think I'm pretty laid back normally."
Virgil continued to kneel on the floor, completely overwhelmed with this confrontation. Was this man "Bastian" actually the Emperor? He couldn't be! He... he was just a... normal frightened young man!
"Uh..." Bastian murmured awkwardly, and then actually sat down on the floor next to Virgil so he could continue speaking, which he did so with a rapid stream of questions. "I've always been so curious. What's that woman's name I think I see you with sometimes? The pretty one with the long white hair and the two swords? I think I see her with the Key, but she can't be the Inheritor that comes after me, since that woman has streaked black and white hair. Is she a copilot? Maybe someone else? Maybe you know what happened to me, I wonder? Did I get home?"
"N-n-n..." Virgil stammered, still overwhelmed and unable to respond correctly. He felt his soul blaze with worship, and in his distress, he found himself uttering prayers to the Emperor, even when his (almost disappointingly) modest pre-Emperor form was sitting right beside him.
A strange buzzing sound began to echo through the room. It almost sounded like crackling electric static.
"I'm sorry, and I know this is invasive, but maybe you're confused because I can hear what you're thinking. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I'm- I'm really not any sort of 'Emperor', or a god. I'm just some guy," Bastian reassured Virgil warmly. A short pause.
"That's... that's w-" Virgil couldn't even finish his sentence, but Bastian was able to read his thoughts effortlessly.
"That's what they'll call me?" Bastian replied. The buzzing interference in the room was now getting louder, and the young man's expression grew concerned as he watched Virgil. "Wait, wait! Hey, tell me about the future! What about the lady with the white hair!? Why am I called the Emperor? Tell me that I get home!"
The buzzing in the room was now becoming overwhelming, and now, it appeared that the ghost of Bastian was now destabilizing into a smear of light.
"Please don't go yet! Come back! Do I get home?!" the young man shouted desperately before he vanished.
Virgil was now kneeling on the floor of the Divine Retribution's gold bridge, his holographic form shimmering with strange gold light. He sprung up, and examined his immediate space. There were no ghosts of any sort, and only the soft light of the golden throne of the bridge filled this space.
"Virgil Allegrii..." A sedate androgynous voice called out to the astropath, almost causing him to cry out in fright. After a few moments of disorientation, he realized that the ship itself was speaking to him. "Crewmember Virgil Allegrii, crewmember Null of the Tower of Reason wishes communication. Open channel?"
"Yes," Virgil said, smoothing his robes and calming his mind. Throne, what an experience! "Open the channel."
"...we're through?" Null's tenor synth voice then echoed through the bridge. "Hello, Virgil. Quite a busy night!"
Elsewhere:
"Oh, blast it!" Null swore at the static-filled cogitator screen as he attempted to contact the Divine Retribution. Through Nimmie Amee's port surveillance, he had discovered that not only had Port Aubergine been destroyed in a terrorist attack, but that the Divine Retribution had been glowing with a strange light, causing even more fright and panic in the terrorized local neighborhood. They had finally been able to boost the tower enough to regain some semblance of control over some of the hijacked Wheeler forces, but law and order had not been restored, and communications were still very difficult. Behind him, the pitiful moans of a Delta-level psyker mixed with the barked orders and angry shouts of frantic adepts, desperately trying to regain control over the security force network of Evna.
It had all happened so quickly! Directly after Null had single-handedly stopped the terrorist flyer directed at the Tower of Reason, three traitorous adepts were discovered attempting to leave the premises. It was then quickly uncovered that these adepts were secret members of the Family of Liberty, and when apprehended, their information was scraped painfully from their minds. Of course, due to their corruption, these three adepts seemed to derive pleasure from this forceful extraction of information, and as soon as they were bled of their usefulness, they were quickly dispatched by fire.
The discovery shocked the entire tower. The Family of Liberty had been planning a government takeover with the aid and full blessing of governor Langwidere. Not only had they become a cult since the formation of the Great Rift, they had become a markedly ambitious one. First, various coordinated terror attacks across the city would be blamed on a rival Chaos cult, one that apparently had gone entirely unnoticed by the authorities. Langwidere and a handful of her closest Family of Liberty advisors would use this opportunity to seize direct control of the Wheelers, which would then be directionless after the destruction of the Tower of Reason, giving the governor and the Family of Liberty full control over all of Evna (and, by extension, all of Tar Vigaz itself). Martial law would be called, and scapegoats for the act would be rounded up.
When the motives for this heinous act were asked, one of the corrupted hereteks had screamed that all this was for the good of Tar Vigaz, and without the aid of the Family, that the world would fall to the xenos that were prophesied to come. When asked why they hadn't simply disclosed that they knew of an incoming fleet of hostile aliens, the heretek had laughed, and said that he'd rather society continue under the blessings of Am'Erika than live under the current sterile government of the Conglomeration of Ev.
There was something else that the Family and Langwidere had been planning as well, but as soon as that part of each heretek's mechanized minds was breached, a mind-wipe directive was triggered, and each were reduced to mindless creatures which were then burned to death. The enormity of this plot was chilling, and they still didn't understand the full depth of it!
Null had to be the one to quickly educate the Tech-priests and skitarii of the Tower on the identity of the daemon named Am'Erika. In this world, the creature was nearly entirely unknown outside of the Family of Liberty. An ancient book pilfered from a visiting Inquisitor some time ago categorizing known greater daemons was quickly dusted off, and the qualities of "Amnaich the Golden" were quickly studied, as this new daemon Am'Erika was simply Amnaich with a new name and a fondness for red, white, and blue (and Traveler souls). Amnaich, it was discovered, was an especially dangerous greater daemon of Slaanesh that had personally fought against the Emperor's forces on Holy Terra itself!
The Archmagos had learned that Amnaich (now Am'Erika) actually had a habit of inhabiting statues, and it had attempted to drag the worlds of the Golwyn Belt into the Warp using a group of these daemonically blessed vessel constructs. This effort failed, however, and the Imperium was able to muster itself in time to destroy each vile colossus. Unfortunately, the Imperium's attention had missed an area of disrupted Warp space around the distant world of Levant. Another lesser statue had been built there over many, many years, and Null cringed to himself when he had even remembered its slow construction over centuries! The names and natures of many named daemons had been an admitted blind spot in his vast mind, and deep within, the Archmagos was ashamed at himself for his short-sighted ignorance!
According to the book, Null deduced that the lesser gold colossus on Levant was likely one of the very few constructs remaining (if any) that had the capability of housing that particular greater daemon's evil essence. But then, the idiots of this world decided to complete and consecrate this brand new one! According to this book, the Imperium even appeared supremely confident that it had destroyed all of Amnaich's statues. That meant, of course, that there were probably more. Blasted stupid Imperium, Null angrily thought, punching the metal of the console ahead of him.
The terrible broadness of the Family's plan was now coming into focus, and Null's mechanical heart skipped a beat. The suspicions of himself and the Inheritor had been correct. The cult wanted to animate another daemonic statue, and they would use the chaos of the terrorist attacks to conceal their true intentions! The Archmagos then began to suspect what the cult had planned for the scapegoats of the acts of terrorism in Evna...
Twelve signal towers and various points of interest had been hit with bombs, explosive projectiles, or suicidal flyers. These included transportation depots, ports, and even the hotel that he and the Inheritor had been assigned! Since the Family had failed to destroy the Tower of Reason itself, complete control of the Wheelers had not been attained, but now, many seemed to be malfunctioning. Instead of hastily rounding up their scapegoats, many Wheelers were now indiscriminately attacking citizens, leading to confusion and even more chaos in the streets. Some even chanted "Glory to Am'Erika" as they cut fleeing citizens down, and others simply wouldn't function. Despite no one now having full control over the legion of battle servitors patrolling Evna, Langwidere decided to declare martial law anyway, and used her media contacts through the elder Justinian Sinclair to inform the people that now, it was both the scapegoated cult and the Tower of Reason that was at fault for the chaos in the city!
On top of this mess, it was discovered that the treacherous governor Langwidere had departed the palace, and was presently on her way to the Tower of Reason with a small army of her personal guard. Understanding what this probably meant, the Tower was quickly locked down, and each adept and warrior now prepared to defend themselves against whatever mayhem that would assail them. Also now understanding that they were now definitely dealing with a large and extremely dangerous Chaos cult, Null immediately spearheaded rushed efforts to halt any daemonic rites that the cult would attempt through the rushed activation of the blackstone pylon. So far, they had had mixed results, and each psyker quickly died soon after integration into the pylon. But, at least it was something. Null did not want that statue to animate!
Null now stood over a communication screen as he attempted to contact Virgil inside the Divine Retribution during one of the pylon outages. Surveillance cameras had seen the majestic vessel glow with strange brightness as the great eagle once again extended its talons, and completely flattened the maddened Wheelers that set upon the destroyed remains of Port Aubergine. Null wanted to make sure that Virgil was safe, as the Divine Retribution had never been seen to brighten like that before.
The screen continued to crackle with static before him, and now, Null moved forward to the microphone, hoping that this directed transmission would finally be picked up by the Divine Retribution. When a very flustered and flickering Virgil appeared before him, Null was relieved. "Hello Virgil," the Archmagos greeted the hologram. "Quite a busy night! I'm here to inform you about recent terrible news."
"Yes, quite," Virgil replied nervously. "You probably already know this, but the port was firebombed, and the Divine Retribution has been moving a great deal. From the windows, I see servitors attempting to shoot at the body of the vessel, which defends itself with its talons. I do not see the two Astartes set to guard us, but I can only view out the front three windows."
Loud footsteps were then heard racing up the stairway to the bridge.
The Fallen Dark Angel Lian had appeared, and he was now covered in dust and ash. He held is helmet in his left hand, and his features were pinched in distress. Quickly, the Fallen said, "I must speak with Angel's Respite immediately! Port Aubergine has been destroyed, Wheelers have gone mad, and interference prevents my communication. I must inform my Brothers!"
"Angel's Respite has already been informed of this event, Angel," the buzzing voice of Nimmie Amee spoke behind Null as she passed around the Archmagos, placing a dataslate detailing the available weaponry of the Tower in a pair of his hands. Their newly discovered hoard of wealth apparently contained Necron weaponry, and at the very least, Null was familiar with its workmanship. This meant that they weren't going down without an incredible fight. Nimmie tapped Null's shoulder with a friendly mechadendrite before informing the Fallen: "Your Brothers are aware of what has happened, and I will send them a notification letting them know of your safety. Where is Librarian Rezel?"
Lian's expression fell before he answered. "Unconscious. Buried under the rubble of the port. I fought Wheelers until the Divine Retribution began to brighten, which then caused all remaining offending servitors to collapse dead. Do you have any news? What has happened?"
Nimmie Amee offered Lian a short description of this evening's events as she sat beside Null. Despite putting on a brave face, he could tell that she was lightly trembling. Both Lian and Virgil appeared stricken with shock at the news.
"The horror!" Lian breathed. "What of the Statue of Libertine? The Inheritor spoke of its danger on another world!"
"Our local surveillance of Port Ruby and the area surrounding the Statue of Libertine has been disabled, but there has been much traffic around the base of the structure, as we have been able to observe from here. If there are any daemonic plans concerning that abomination, we are working hard to thwart them. We're working on a consistent anti-Warp suppression field that will halt the plans of the Family of Liberty."
Null recalled the face of the daemonic statue on Levant as it had animated itself, and on another display nearby, he saw an image of the Statue of Libertine. More miserable moans echoing from the captured psyker as each adept did as instructed, carefully prepping the subject for her integration into the blackstone pylon. A Delta. We'll get more time out of a Delta, Null thought with a heavy swallow. "Virgil, do you have any knowledge as to how and why the Divine Retribution glowed as it did?" the Archmagos asked instead of voicing his dread.
The astropath shook his head. From behind, the two masked Blank women could now be seen, and they watched the transmission curiously. Virgil answered Null's question with, "No, I don't. But, I have been seeing very cohesive Warp-ghosts here on the bridge, if that has anything to do with it." The astropath then paused, and clenched his jaw. His eyes lashed to and fro, and it appeared that he was in conflict concerning whether or not to speak further. Finally, his form briefly rippled with energy, and he added: "One of these ghosts may have taken the form of the God-Emperor, but I understand that entities can lie, so I do not put much trust in what I witnessed. Aside from that, to my senses, the Divine Retribution appears oddly flush with energy, almost like how it feels when it has recently been refueled with souls. It feels especially alive right now."
Null nodded. "Thank you for telling us this, Virgil," the Archmagos replied. He then turned to Lian, and after a moment, said, "I have no love for traitor Astartes, but if the Inheritor trusts in you, so must I. I suggest that you remain on board if you wish to be safe. The Divine Retribution can defend itself easily against almost anything, even if inactive."
Lian instantly answered. "I cannot leave my Brother stranded and vulnerable under the rubble. I am only up here because of both the urgency of my request, and because all maddened servitors have been dispatched. I will go back to help the survivors, and to guard them against any more dark forces that should come upon us."
Null sighed. Lian's honorable nature did not cleanse him of the sins of his traitorous brethren, but the Archmagos had to admit that he was an excellent fighter, and his instinct to defend civilians was righteous. If anything, if he was killed outside of the port, they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. Null replied to the Fallen with a curt, "Very well, then."
"We would also like to help the people of the port," Morai unexpectedly replied in ancient Nubuan.
"If I recall correctly, you both were given orders by the Inheritor to stay on the ship," Null responded to this in Low Gothic, and allowed the translator of the Divine Retribution to make sense of it for them if they did not fully understand. While he didn't have a problem with Lian getting himself killed, the two Blank women could be of incredible use during any sort of daemonic conflict.
Morai and Ennoia glanced at each other, and bowed their heads. "That is true. And, we are worried. Do you know where the blessed Omega is?"
"She's still at the palace, unfortunately," Nimmie Amee replied when the words translated onscreen. "We're worried as well, but have faith that the Inheritor and all those aligned to her will prevail against any evil, and do not trouble your hearts."
A very uncomfortable pause, and Null finally said to the screen: "That is all. Expect further Warp instability in the coming hours as we attempt to fully activate the anti-Warp pylon here. Am'Erika and her sisters cannot manifest if we keep the Warp weakened. We will try to regain control of the Wheelers and to destroy any threat to our tower. We will prevail, my friends!"
"Very well," Virgil replied. The two gold-masked Blank women bowed in understanding. Lian didn't say goodbye, and was immediately on his way back down the stairs, presumably to go back outside. "Be well, old friend. And good luck."
As the screen went black, Magos Amee let out a long buzzing sigh. All eight of her spider eyes flashed with deep blue sorrow, and she continued to tremble.
"Do you have a plan going forward, mayhaps?" Null asked Nimmie in a very quiet voice as he reached to hold one of the brilliant Magos' metal hands with his gold arm.
Nimmie Amee's many shoulders slouched as she squeezed his fingers affectionately. The Magos almost imperceptibly shook her head. "No," she whispered.
The tortured moans of the restrained psyker became more pitched as an adept approached Null, and informed him that he was needed. The Archmagos regrettably left the Magos trembling in her worry as she faced a display depicting the Statue of Libertine's wickedly smiling gold face.
Elsewhere:
The eccentric Inquisitor Lord sat meditating in his chambers. After his recent vision, he wished to calm himself before giving the order to disembark.
A mixture of both hope and apprehension gripped him. This was entirely thrilling!
His vessel, the Tempus Infinitum, lay docked above Fort Pykman, a distant Deathwatch Watch Fortress located in the wilds of the Ghoul Stars. The Tempus Infinitum was a relatively small void ship, just under 500 meters in length, and sleek in form and style, resembling a stunningly ornate speartip covered in protectant runes that glimmered beautifully in the blackness of space. It was an absolutely gorgeous piece of craftsmanship which even impressed the Aeldari during a recent visit to a Craftworld. Below, the Inquisitor Lord could sense Astartes marveling at its construction, and this made him smile. At least people weren't automatically afraid of this ship all the way out here, and that was nice.
Entirely black and covered with luminous gold protectant wards and strange sigils, the Tempus Infinitum was a one-of-a-kind vessel that had been built from a blueprint discovered on a dead world orbiting a black hole around the time of the Horus Heresy. For secrecy, it had been built in a distant orbit around Ceres instead of within Jupiter's shipyards. After the vessel's completion, all those involved in its construction then vanished into thin air. This vanishing act included Tech-priests, humble shipwrights, and even mindless servitors. All those who had come into vague contact with the construction of the Tempus Infinitum had simply disappeared. The phenomena frightened many people, but everyone knew not to question the unusual event when the vessel was assigned to a very mysterious Inquisition Ordo. The vessel had also been assigned to an infamous Inquisitor whose name was spoken with fear and respect, with some rumors suggesting that the shadowy Lord was actually some kind of inhuman immortal creature that walked the galaxy over many millennia, and that the missing shipbuilders were sacrifices to a daemon to retain his vigor.
Which he was, but that was beside the point. Well, all that was mostly true, aside from the whole rumor about daemonic sacrifices. That was just silly.
The Count of Saint Germain, Inquisitor Lord of Ordo Chronos, grinned merrily. A little mystery kept people afraid of him, and that kept him safe for the most part. Each time he wished for novelty in his life (and to keep existence as a Perpetual a secret), he simply arranged for his "death" shortly after promoting an Inquisitor with his new desired identity. For the past hundred years, he had actually changed his identity back to Saint Germain once again in a quirk of whimsy. The Imperium either had never caught on, or they didn't care.
The enigmatic Inquisitor Lord usually let people believe what they wanted to believe about him and Ordo Chronos. Some rumors were actually correct, but that nonsense a few centuries ago about him being a time-manipulating Warp entity was entirely unreasonable. Was the concept of differing dimensions too scary for the people of this reality to consider? They already had to deal with the Warp, why was the concept of alternate realities too difficult to understand?
Saint Germain shifted on his cushioned floor pillow, and retrieved his cane, which lay beside him. He observed it lovingly. The cane's unique head of brilliant living gold offered a constant sentimental reminder of where he had come from, and what he had experienced in his long life. It was an eagle with three jeweled eyes that seemed to shift in color in the light. Within, it concealed an equally stunning electric gold blade that never lost its sharpness. The Inquisitor Lord traced his fingers over the eagle's hooked beak, again admiring its beauty. If he was correct about what he had witnessed in his vision just now, the Inquisitor Lord imagined that there was now another (and much larger) three-eyed eagle of living gold making its way through the galaxy.
Oh, the wonder of it all, the Inquisitor Lord thought with a giddy sigh as he gripped his cane. Saint Germain was thrilled to be witnessing time repeat itself once again! It was all very felicitous when he thought about it. Some weeks ago, he and his coterie had been visiting Watch Fortress Erioch when the legendary Omega Vault decided to open just as he had been struck with a dreadful psychic migraine, even briefly losing consciousness. After being cleared by a medicae, he had been informed by the Watch Master that a chamber within the Omega Vault had opened, and that a new chamber had been revealed. Using his station, he requested to see it, and was struck dumb with shock when he had realized what was within.
It was a small model of the Divine Intervention, the three-eyed eagle of fate and destiny! The elegant bird's clockwork talons stood upon an unmarked information disk, its encrypted contents not immediately accessible.
The small gold model was a well-crafted reproduction of the legendary eagle vessel that the Emperor (in his more human pre-incarnation of Sebastian) had piloted. The Count of Saint Germain had been one of Sebastian's copilots, with the other being a very dubious character who had initially introduced himself simply as Malachi.
He remembered it all as if it were yesterday. Many millennia ago, Saint Germain had found himself transported from his home reality and into this universe during violent circumstances that he preferred not to recall. He discovered much to his surprise that he was an immortal creature called a "Perpetual" after a mortal accident failed to kill him. Saint Germain also discovered others that were displaced from their home realities, and that they were known as "Travelers" in this strange new dimension. He later learned that the weak reality surrounding his new home was enabling many displaced souls to be drawn away from their home dimensions, pulling them into this one. As the world he had been living upon began to finally expire due to this weakening metaphysical reality, Saint Germain and a band of other Travelers discovered the Divine Intervention, and were able to board it after Sebastian's "Key" necklace opened it for them. The group had escaped, and behind them, a rift had exploded, tearing the world to pieces! This bruise in space was still in existence, and it served as an eternal reminder of Saint Germain's past escapades.
The Maelstrom still glowed hotly on every star chart, which made the Inquisitor Lord oddly sentimental at times. Ah, memories!
Saint Germain pondered the statue that had been found within the Omega Vault. Each little gold feather and detail had been lovingly sculpted with a deft hand. Those same hands would go on to completely reshape the galaxy, which was incredible to think about, in both impressive and depressing terms. How the model had been placed within the Omega Vault was yet another impossible mystery, one that he wasn't even going to attempt to solve.
After a meeting with two Space Marine Librarians and some of his psychically-talented henchmen, Saint Germain then also discovered that the galaxy had broken in two, and that the Astronomican could no longer be seen in this region! Further disturbing, a second minor Warp rift had blown open to their distant north approximately eight thousand light years northeast of Fort Pykman. When his psychic senses focused on that particular rift, Saint Germain was again amazed. The rift actually felt more like a temporal Warp anomaly similar to the Hadex, which made it quite unique.
This new "Phoenix Anomaly" (which was what the rift had been hastily named before a proper designation came in from Terra) had consumed a backwater world named Levant in its formation. It seemed to spew and bend the flow of time about it, and between the appearance of the little gold eagle in the Omega Vault, and the recent dreams he had been experiencing, Saint Germain had become convinced of something very important:
After thousands of years, it was happening again! A new interdimensional Traveler had discovered the Key and was now flying the great eagle, and that very lucky (or very unlucky, depending on opinion) someone was on the move somewhere to the north, likely originating from the new anomaly.
Wasting no time, Saint Germain contacted Fort Pykman. The Deathwatch stationed there confirmed that their number had been experiencing dreams of a gold eagle, and soon, the Tempus Infinitum was racing northward as quickly as they could manage without the Astronomican. They didn't even wait for the disk the gold bird had been discovered with to be decrypted, such was their hurry. During these two weeks of Warp travel, the Inquisitor Lord experienced more heady dreams and visions, one of which being the complete annihilation of the Broken Desert of Nubua, the galactic region Sebastian had cursed by accident in his early years in this universe. This made Saint Germain solemnly happy, as he had remembered what had happened to the poor souls of the lost Independent Empires. After thousands of years of tortured half-existence, the souls within those cursed worlds had finally achieved the peace of death. He hoped that this had been seen by a certain special soul on Terra, despite the Great Rift's interference.
Poor Sebastian, Saint Germain thought, opening his distinctive dark gold eyes. Maybe his old friend would also see the end of his suffering soon, the Inquisitor Lord hoped as he stood from his floor cushion and walked to his desk. A small flashing light aside a wide cogitator mounted to the table alerted him that someone wished to speak to him. Saint Germain sat at his desk, and pressed the flashing button.
"My Lord," a crackled voice spoke to him from the bridge.
"I told you all to not interrupt my meditations unless it was important," Saint Germain replied coolly. "We will disembark soon, worry not."
"My Lord Saint Germain, my greatest apologies, but we have received a priority transmission from the Watch Fortress. It appears that another Inquisitorial vessel is already here, and is currently docked on the far side of the port."
"This is the Deathwatch, Sura. Ordo Xenos will typically visit this Watch Fortress in their studies of regional threats here in the Ghoul Stars."
"This is understood, yes," Inquisitor Sura replied, and then hesitated before continuing. "But, the vessel is of Ordo Malleus. I am being told that they are currently conducting interrogations of the Brothers of the Watch Fortress because of... dreams of a gold eagle."
"Dreams of a gold eagle. How peculiar," Saint Germain laughed as he put a comb through his shoulder length hair, teasing out the tangles before tying it back with a black ribbon. "What does this have to do with us other than making our lives more inconvenient? Are they experiencing daemonic activity of any sort? Malleus always likes to overstep their bounds. What is the name of the vessel?"
As he waited for Sura to answer, Saint Germain felt his formidable psychic senses twitch uncomfortably. Deep in the Inquisitor Lord's mind, a brief frightening vision. A woman was being burned, and being ordered to confess. It was enough to cause Saint Germain's breath to catch. Oh dear, he hoped that it was not-
"It is the Inevitable Wisdom, my lord," came the reply. "And, they are now hailing us from within the Watch Fortress. High Inquisitor Frollo Vertpestyn wishes to speak with you."
Saint Germain felt his stomach drop. He knew of these Inquisitors, and had crossed paths with them before. They were a sadistic family that enjoyed fire a bit too much, even for the firebugs of Ordo Malleus. "Oh joy of joys, the Verpestyn family," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "How utterly fantastic. You know, sometimes I do wish I had these effortless time alteration abilities that everyone seems to think we have. That way, I'd find a way to either get here before or after those fools visit. Preferably before, seeing how there always seem to be 'accidents' with fire with them around."
Inquisitor Sura morbidly laughed, and then asked, "Shall I contact the Watch Fortress, my Lord? Shall I say you are not available?"
"Contact them, but tell them to meet us when we've landed if they want to talk. Fiery Frollo doesn't get to make requests or demands of me, and face-to-face meetings are much more my style anyway. Inform the Watch Fortress that we'll be visiting within ninety minutes. This will give the Verpestyns time to cease whatever pointless fire torture 'interrogations' they're engaged within to receive us. We're clearly more important, and that nasty little family should know that."
"Very well, my Lord."
"And, on our side, inform the main crew to dress formally and to meet me in forty five minutes in the center meeting hall. We have a few new recruits, I'll need to debrief everyone concerning the nature of these Inquisitors. Tell everyone to bring their normal accoutrements and defensive implements, but don't overdo it. I just want us to look better than they do, those pissant psychotic reprobates."
Inquisitor Sura again laughed, "It will be done my Lord. Anything else?"
"No, Sura. That will be all."
Saint Germain stood with a stretch, and began to sort through his expansive closet for a proper show-off fancy coat to upset Frollo. The Verpestyns, on top of being sadistic monsters, also really had no sense of style. He also hoped that they hadn't had enough time to brutalize too many people at the Watch Fortress below. The Inquisitor Lord had a crawling suspicion that things weren't going very well down there, and the last thing he needed was for these particular Inquisitors to start investigating the existence of the Divine Intervention.
Feeling and sampling his collection of coats, the Inquisitor Lord briefly then closed his eyes as he recalled what he had seen in his meditative vision, confirming to himself the existence of a new Inheritor. This new captain was a woman with black and white streaked hair, and she appeared very similar to the painting of the figure inside Nubua's sacred pyramid so long ago, which made perfect sense. Maybe after all this time humanity had hope? And now that Mal wasn't around anymore, he could actually help in the reshaping of humankind's destiny? The Inquisitor Lord then hoped that she hadn't already taken two copilots.
Thinking about Malachi (or Malcador, as he later changed his name to) made Saint Germain upset again, even after all this time. He put his anger aside, and now began hunting for his favorite leather boots and fine velvet trousers. At least he always knew he'd win every confrontation when it came to style.