New chapter. As always, the next two chapters are up on my P-a-t-r-e-o-n, here: h*t*t*p*s :/ w*w*w . p*a*t*r*e*o*n user - ? - u = 52718582 (remove the spaces and stars)
In the deepest depths of the Bai-heng hive, of what was slowly coming to be known as the Imperial Palace, lay the private sanctum of the Emperor of Mankind. Many secrets were hidden within these sanctums, and only two men had ever been permitted into their depths.
Many would have committed atrocities beyond number to gain a small glimpse into this sanctum and the Emperor's secrets…though they might have been surprised by what they found.
The sanctum was large, but rather than being lavishly decorated, it was cold, white and sterile, bearing more resemblance to an ordinary laboratory than the lavish decadence one might expect from the Golden Emperor.
Nor, as one might expect, was the Emperor deep in meditation as he contemplated the secrets of the universe.
Instead, he was staring intently at a golden crystal floating in front of him.
The Emperor reached out and took the crystal, turning it over in his hands and examining it. It emanated an aura of protection…but it was a weak one. One full of holes and vulnerabilities.
Another failure. He thought angrily, tossing the crystal into the pile of other crystals on the table in front of him. It would make it marginally more difficult for daemons to whisper into the minds of psykers, but it was no true shield, in the end.
Why was he struggling with this?
He was the Guardian of Humanity, the Lord of Terra.
His feats were carved into myth and legend, his discoveries had helped elevate mankind to their rightful status as the greatest civilization in the galaxy.
He had fought and defeated a shard of Void Dragon itself when he was but a handful of years old, with nothing more than the guiding instructions that his creators had left him. He had delved deep into the mysteries of the Warp, unlocking secrets that allowed him to oppose the power of the Dark Gods alone.
And yet, for all his power and intelligence, he could not unlock the secret of this damned dreamstone.
The Emperor glowered at the pile of golden crystals on the table in front of him. The table was only half covered…unlike the other tables, the surface of which was hidden completely by his previous failed attempts, the golden gleam of the crystals a stark contrast to the cold sterility of the labs.
They were infuriating, the evidence of his failure and inability to master this simple technique that Isha had demonstrated for him.
…well, no, they were not a complete failure, he admitted to himself grudgingly.
Plucking a crystal from the pile, he let his power flow into it.
The crystal absorbed the power, storing it away for future use. The process was not entirely seamless, some of the power did bleed out, dissipating back into the Warp.
But the crystal worked nonetheless.
By observing Isha's singing and her method of creating dreamstones, he had soon realized that the basic principles were also applicable to the creation of wraithbone.
He had not yet mastered the technique to his satisfaction, it was true. The ability to craft not merely psychoactive material but psychoactive programmable matter escaped him for now. But it was still an Eldar secret that he had sought for more than ten thousand years. His creations were crude compared to true wraithbone artifacts he had examined in the past, but it was only a matter of time.
And yet, what should have been a triumph was undercut by his bitter failure to achieve his actual goal.
Even now, the ability to forge his love for humanity into a shield eluded him.
Just thinking about it was somewhat embarrassing. It felt so…childish. The romantic young fool he used to be could have done it, perhaps. Would likely have gotten along splendidly with Isha, and mastered these techniques so easily.
But that fool who had believed that love and hope had power which mattered was long dead, had died before humanity began its downwards spiral before the Golden Age even began.
…and yet, love did have power. Isha had proven that quite definitively.
It was simply a power he was unable to harness.
He had tried to take Isha's advice. He had called upon memories of his youth, of pleasant times and people he had cared for. He had tried to use his love for humanity as a whole, his vision of humanity ascendant and immune to all dangers.
And yet, the ability to craft a dreamstone was beyond him.
The Emperor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was an old habit left over from his youth, one he had never been able to completely shake even after all these aeons.
There was nothing else for it. No matter how embarrassing it was, he would need to demonstrate his technique to Isha and ask her for direct advice on how to improve it.
Rising to his feet, the Emperor waved a hand. The crystals all rose into the air, floating into suddenly opened drawers and closets, organizing themselves in neat rows before the drawers and closets slammed shut again.
One crystal, however, the Emperor kept in his hand, the one he had just made.
Now, to Isha.
He didn't feel like teleporting through the Warp today, so instead the Emperor simply twisted the fabric of space and time to make two points meet.
And suddenly, he was standing in his forest, the one he had commissioned Isha to make for him.
Despite his frustration, being surrounded by so much greenery was an immediate balm to his mood. The fresh air, the enormous trees with their vibrant green leaves, the thick grass beneath his feet, and the sound of birds chirping in the air.
It wasn't quite the Terra of his youth, for the sky was still grey and overcast, and only a few beams of sunlight poked through the clouds.
But it was only a matter of time.
He could feel Isha's presence not too far away, and for a moment, he was tempted to simply stand here until she came to him before dismissing the idea. Making his way through the forest, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips at the sight of the squirrels scurrying about with nuts, the blooming flowers everywhere.
He passed a pack of wolves, who drew away from him, their animal instincts making them wary of him. He briefly toyed with the idea of stopping to tame one, perhaps keeping it as a pet, before discarding the idea. He had no time to spare on such things.
Eventually, he found Isha, who was perched on the highest branches of a tall tree near the river, tending to some baby birds in a nest. Her black robes were covered with dirt and leaves, and a large golden eagle, most likely the parent of the fledglings, was sitting on her shoulder, but she didn't seem to care. There were other animals nearby, who withdrew at his presence but seemed unwilling to move too far from Isha.
"Your Majesty," She greeted, looking away from the nest to peer down at him through the leaves. "I was just doing my regular check-in. Is there something you need?"
"Yes, I require some advice on…dreamstones."
A faintly surprised expression crossed her face, but she didn't object. "Your children are fine now," She said, not to him, but to the eagle, which immediately left her shoulder to fuss over its babies.
Isha then jumped down from the tree and landed next to him on the river bank with all the grace and agility of a tiger, her bare feet immediately soaked in mud. Even restraining her power as tightly as she did, her presence made the water seem cleaner, the grass greener, the trees healthier.
"What is it you wish to ask?" She inquired cautiously.
"My attempts at making a dreamstone have been a failure so far," Admitting it felt like giving up, losing but what choice did he have? "Take a look at this."
He offered her his latest crystal, and she took it, holding it up as she peered at it with eyes both physical and spiritual.
"You've made tremendous progress," She said. "It has hardly been a month since we began, this is excellent for such a short timeframe."
The Emperor scowled, crossing his arms. "It is too slow," He ground out. "I need to master this immediately."
Isha sighed. "Very well. Did you try what I suggested last time we discussed it?"
"I did," The Emperor admitted, crossing his arms. "It is how I came this far, but it is still not enough."
"...are you willing to give me a demonstration of your ability?"
The Emperor couldn't entirely suppress his twitch at that. He had expected as much, Isha could hardly assess what he was doing wrong with a demonstration.
And he had come here to ask for her advice on his own.
"Of course," He muttered, quickly erecting a cloak of privacy around them, one that extended for miles.
Once he was sure that the cloak would prevent anyone from seeing them, blocking all physical surveillance and psychic divination so that not even Kairos Fateweaver would be able to see through it, the Emperor cleared his throat with only the barest hint of embarrassment.
And then he began to sing.
His voice echoed like thunder, and at the same time, it was as smooth as silk. It was a melody no one had ever heard or known, but it was still easily recognizable as a war song, a call to arms, speaking of valour and heroism, of the darkness among the stars and the need to defend them. It spoke of people long lost, whom he had once loved, who had done great deeds in service of humanity and many of whom had died to defend it.
It was a song which would have inspired even the hardest of hearts to rise, to take up arms for the Imperium, for humanity.
And in front of the Emperor, as he sang, golden sparks continued to slowly coalesce into a shining crystal.
And throughout, Isha watched him intently, her eyes sharp and piercing. The Emperor felt as if she were looking right through him, even more keenly than she usually did. His psychic aura had never been a barrier to her, but nor had he ever exposed his emotions to her like this before.
At last, the song ended as the crystal finished forming completely, revolving gently in the air. And though he did not let it show, the Emperor could not help but be relieved once he stopped singing, no longer having to bare his throat to Isha like that.
There was a long silence, as Isha said nothing, apparently carefully considering her words. The silence dragged on for several minutes, until, eventually, the Emperor could not wait any longer.
"Well?" He asked impatiently.
"It's too impersonal," Isha said finally, her tone both resigned and expectant, clearly knowing how he would respond.
"Impersonal?" The Emperor repeated incredulously, more than a little stung. He should not have been so predictable to her, perhaps, but he couldn't help it. "It is my dream, my goal, everything I have dedicated my life working towards. How is it too impersonal?" He barely kept his voice from rising towards the end.
"Because you are still thinking as a shepherd overseeing his flock," Isha said frankly, uncowed. "And that is being generous. You are not thinking of humans as actual people. Even the parts about the people you loved are a reference to their great deeds and their heroic deaths, not who they were and why you loved them."
The Emperor clamped down on his mounting frustration. He had come here to ask for Isha's advice, he reminded himself. And she was giving it to him. There was no point in being irritated said advice was not precisely to his liking.
"It would also help," Isha added. "If you were not…ashamed of doing this. Your shame and embarrassment bleed through, and it affects the creation of the dreamstone, whether you intend it to or not."
"Of course it does," The Emperor sighed wearily. "I understand, but I cannot simply rid myself of those emotions." Or he could, but he rather doubted cutting out his ability to feel emotions, even just a few ones, would help. With this, or anything.
No matter how tempting it had been at times.
"As I said before, you have made tremendous amounts of progress in a short time," Isha reiterated. "You are immortal, you must understand the value of patience. I realize you are in a hurry, and that our enemies are many, but even with all our might, we cannot accomplish everything instantly. It has not even been two months, do not let your haste get the better of you."
"I cannot afford to be patient," The Emperor snapped. "The Orks, the Rangdan-"
"-are not destroying the galaxy at this very moment." Isha finished, now with an edge of exasperation in her voice. "I have helped accelerate your plans, have I not? You have the time to spare."
The Emperor had no rebuttal to that, so he simply pressed his lips together. She was right. Had he not been telling Malcador of the value of Isha's aid not so long ago?
Why was he so frustrated with this dreamstone project? Had he truly lost so much patience? In the past centuries, he had tried to compensate for his lackadaisical approach in his youth, but when had he reached the point where needing a few months to master something was inflaming his temper like this?
"Very well," He said finally. "I will continue practicing, though I will need to leave for a while shortly. When I return, we will continue, and this time, I want you to observe my attempts and tell me how to refine them."
"Of course," Isha said. There was no judgment in her tone, no triumphant gleam in her emerald eyes that he had come to ask for her help after initially refusing it, and somehow, that was just as annoying in its own way. "If I may, I have something else to add."
"...you may."
"You must let go of the embarrassment you feel about creating these dreamstones," She told him quietly. "I understand it is difficult for you, but these dreamstones are made up of equal parts love and conviction. If creating them shames you, then that shame becomes part of them, diminishing their potency."
The Emperor grimaced. She was right, of course. Conviction in one's ideals and beliefs was important, and shame would do no good. He had known this for a very long time.
He simply had to apply it here as well.
"...thank you, Isha," He said finally. "Your advice is appreciated."
"I am glad I could help," Isha replied.
And she was, wasn't she?
Offering her a final nod, the Emperor twisted space-time again, returning to the Imperial Palace.
He had made a promise to his son and he fully intended to keep it.
"Father!"
"Horus," The Emperor said warmly, striding out on the balcony where they had agreed to meet.
His son had been looking out at Bai-heng below, but now turned to him with a broad smile.
Every time he saw Horus, the Emperor was struck by a mixture of joy and melancholy. Horus had kept growing rapidly, as he was meant to, now a good foot taller than he had been on Cthonia. His shoulders had become broader as well, and more of the baby fat had left his face, faint hints of stubble appearing on his jaw. Clad in a simple but regal white and black tunic and trousers, he was every bit the Prince of the Imperium.
He had not quite left adolescence behind him just yet, but it only a matter of months before he was physically an adult.
It was as the Emperor had intended and yet…part of him wished he could have let Horus be a child for a while longer.
"Are you ready for tonight?" The Emperor inquired, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and was pleased when his son accepted it readily. Their relationship was still growing, but he had undone the damage of that rushed trip to Cthonia, at least.
"Yes, father," Horus agreed. "But…what exactly do you have in mind?"
"You will see," The Emperor said with a smile, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now, let us go, my son."
"Go where?" Horus demanded, puzzled, just as space distorted around them and they were suddenly standing on a corner street of the Imperial capital.
"What-" Horus spluttered, caught off-guard.
"Teleportation," The Emperor explained. "You will learn to do it…someday." He had considered not teaching Horus anything of the psychic arts, given how he had been cast through the Warp by Chaos, but since both his own scans and Isha had turned up nothing…well, at least for Horus, he had decided to use his original training plans for the Primarchs.
"Really?" Horus asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
"If you behave and do well at your studies." The Emperor told him. "It will take time, however, this is a fairly complex technique." Teleporting directly through the Warp was easier, but he had been reluctant to move his son through the Immaterium, so he had bent the fabric of space instead. "For now, however, let us focus on the city."
Horus seems slightly disappointed by the answer, but accepted. "Where are we?" He asked, looking around.
"A corner street of Bai-heng, just below my main fortress." The Emperor said, gesturing to the sky above them, where the Himazalian mountains loomed, the beating heart of the Imperium.
Horus, however, seemed more fascinated by the city around them, seeming to realize no one had noticed. The evening crowds were dense and buzzing with activity, but nobody seemed to have paid their arrival any mind, oblivious to the presence of their overlord and his son.
"They didn't notice us," Horus muttered, surprised.
"Oh, they do," The Emperor said pleasantly. "But they only see what I want them to see. Which is an ordinary man and his son out for a walk, having just emerged from the alley behind us."
"Huh," Horus murmured, both awed and intrigued. "This would have been damn useful on Cthonia…"
The Emperor laughed. "Indeed. Now, the city awaits!"
They wandered the streets for a while, Horus's eyes darting everywhere in excitement. But at the same time, he was no excitable child, but rather seemed reminded of Cthonia by the crowds and the shops, his sharp eyes flickering across the streets and shops, picking out who seemed useful and knowledgeable, where there were quick escape routes, the habits of the gang-lord quickly reasserting themselves.
The Emperor ambled behind his son, content to let Horus take the lead.
It felt good to do this again, he mused. Just watching people living their lives, to see them as they saw themselves rather than how they acted in the presence of the Golden Emperor. Children played happily on the streets. Two young women passed him by, arm-in-arm, obviously very much in love. A father with an infant strapped to his chest was carrying several bags full of groceries, looking somewhat harassed but with an undercurrent of happiness. A street performer was playing music, drawing a small crowd of people.
Only half a century ago, such a thing would have been impossible on Terra. His homeworld had become a nightmarish hell, where survival was the first order of the day and nothing else mattered.
It was good to see society and civilization return.
"What are all the lights and banners for, Father?" Horus asked, pointing at the decorations that had been hung across the buildings and streets.
"There is a festival today," The Emperor explained. "We'll attend it soon, but let us explore the city first."
Horus nodded excitedly, and they resumed their walk down the street.
For a moment, they stopped at a street vendor's stall and quickly picked out a few meat rolls. They were fairly mediocre by the Emperor's standards, but Horus seemed to be reminded of Cthonia and devoured his eagerly, so the Emperor summoned a single Throne from the Imperial treasury to pay for the food.
The vendor, a balding middle-aged man with brown hair and eyes, took the coin eagerly, a slight nudge to his mind ensuring he wouldn't question why an ordinary customer had the highest form of currency in the Imperium. "Thank you, sir," He said happily. "Business has been slow, recently, with the Emperor's farms and all."
"Oh?" The Emperor asked casually, "Have you been doing badly?"
"No, no, not at all!" The man said, shaking his head furiously. "The Emperor's farms are an amazing thing, sir. But the fruits and vegetables they give out are so damn good, and since they never seem to run out, most people, even the nobles, get their food from there these days. I do too. But it does mean not a lot of people buy my rolls these days since the farms give them food for free."
"Yes, I see what you mean," The Lord of Terra agreed. Malcador had reported to him that Isha's work had eliminated food shortages and starvation in Bai-heng, but it was good to know that common people shared the same positive sentiment. It was good for the Imperium's image and made the people love him more.
"Father, let's go," Horus had already finished the mountain of rolls he had bought, so the Emperor gave the vendor a shallow nod and they were off again.
They continued to wander the city for a while, the Emperor observing his son's glee at wandering the city streets.
It had been a long time since he had done this, simply making a trip outside with a child. He had forgotten what it felt like.
This feeling, perhaps, was what he could use to create a dreamstone. Surely it was personal enough.
Something to consider.
But for now, he and Horus had other matters to tend to.
"Now, to the festival, son," The Emperor said, leading his down the winding streets of the city. The crowds thickened as they approached the centre, and as they walked, they passed many market stalls, selling bright and colourful fabrics, foods, jewellery, and Horus eyed it all with wonder.
"This is all yours, my son," The Emperor told him. "You are my son, a Prince of the Imperium, and this empire will be yours as much as it will be mine. And together, we will make it even greater, and reunify humanity across the stars. We will build the greatest empire the galaxy has ever seen."
"I…wow." Horus murmured. "It's so much…brighter than Cthonia."
"But you have a duty to the people of the empire, as well. You must rule them well, and protect them from the many horrors that lurk beyond the stars." The Emperor continued. "You say this is brighter than Cthonia. Well, it is now. But only a century ago, Cthonia would have been a paradise compared to what Terra used to be. I took up the mantle of the Emperor to put an end to the discord and strife, to allow peace and order to reign once more. And as my son, you have the same responsibility."
"I will, father," Horus promised, a fire in his eyes. "I will."
"Good," The Emperor said proudly. "And ah, yes, here we are."
They had arrived at a large arena, made in the image of the Colosseum of millennia past, though much larger. The Emperor had ordered it's construction personally, and he was pleased to see that there was an enormous line of people eagerly waiting to enter.
"Here, we are holding the Golden Games, Horus," The Emperor explained to Horus as they waited in line. "The greatest athletes from across the Imperium have gathered here, to compete with each other in a grand show for the public. It is being held in celebration of the hundredth anniversary since I founded the Imperium."
"Awesome," Horus breathed. "Are the athletes good?"
"Very good. They are not quite as capable as you or I, but many of them are transhumans," The Emperor answered as they passed the guards at the gate, sparing only a thought to make sure nobody thought to stop them for not having tickets. "They are highly trained as well. Nevertheless, the games will not be easy for them. I designed them personally, and I included a few…obstacles to make everything more exciting."
Of course, the real purpose of the games was to help foster a sense of national identity and unity among the Imperium's populace, but that was a lesson for another time.
Horus seemed excited as they took their seats at the highest ring of the colosseum, though his eyes drifted to the royal box. "Is that your place, father?"
"Normally," The Emperor chuckled. "But for now, I thought it would be better to show you a glimpse of the Imperium from a more…grounded perspective."
Horus nodded, and they settled in to wait as the master of the ceremonies strode out onto the arena, followed by the various teams, bearing their flags in a riot of different colours.
"People of the Imperium," The master of the ceremonies cried, his transhuman augmentations letting him project his voice across the stadium without any device. "I see you're all excited about the games. However, before we begin, I have an announcement from the Emperor, Beloved By All."
There was a stir of excitement, even as Horus looked at him in surprise.
"The Emperor organised these games for you! The Emperor's work has seen all fed so well that no one from the highest lord to the lowliest beggar goes hungry. Because of the Emperor, our world is slowly turning green again! But the Emperor himself has long been grieved for all that he has made us happy."
"Father?" Horus asked.
"Just wait, and be ready, my son."
"As you all know, our Emperor is childless. But this is not because he wished to be He had sons, the twenty Primarchs, but they were stolen from him by the wretched enemies of the Imperium!"
The crowd grumbled at the mention of this, expressing their sympathy for the Emperor and anger towards his enemies.
"However, some months ago, one of our beloved Emperor's sons was found against, at last! And today, we are going to meet him."
The space around them shifted and rippled once more, and suddenly, they were sitting in the royal box."
"My people!" The Emperor said, his voice resounding across the colosseum like thunder. "I introduce to you, my first-found son! Horus Lupercal, Primarch of the Sixteenth Legion!"
"HORUS! HORUS! HORUS! HORUS!"
The stadium erupted in raucous cheers, and Horus seemed almost overwhelmed for a moment…before he stood and waved, delight overwhelming his uncertainty.
"HORUS! HORUS! HORUS!" The chant continued, and the Emperor watched proudly as his son embraced the cheers, exulting in it.
It had been a good day.