I do not own the Warhammer 40000 universe nor any of its characters. They belong to Games Workshop.
Inspired by the Dornian Heresy, by Aurelius Rex.
Hagiology
999.M41 – Holy Terra
Ten minutes to Light's End
The Cathedral of the Immortal Emperor was ancient and hallowed. Once, it had been called the Cathedral of the Saviour Emperor, but that name had been abandoned when the faction of the Ecclesiarchy sharing it had been unmasked by Sebastian Thor as selfish, manipulative heretics who sought only to use the Church for their own gains.
Within its halls were stored thousands of the Imperial Creed's holy relics, locked in stasis and displayed for the eyes of the pilgrims to see. The faithful came from all across the galaxy to enter the Cathedral, undertaking journeys that often lasted years and sometimes entire generations in order to reach it and be allowed within. Even then, they were only allowed a few seconds to behold the sacred artefacts before being ushered out to let the next batch of pilgrims enter. And yet, the pull of the holy relics was so strong that more continued to come, sacrificing everything for a glimpse of the divine.
Sister Luha understood well the divine call that drew such faithful to make such a journey. Though she had never entered the Cathedral herself before this day, she had studied the records of its contents. Contained within its most sacrosanct chambers were fragments of the Emperor's own armor, along with a fragment of Mortarion's cloak, and a simple combat knife (the size of a human short sword) that had been wielded by Lucius the Reborn himself, along with other equally priceless treasures of the faith.
Luha and the other Sisters of the August Vigil had not come to bask in the holiness of the Cathedral, however, but to add another sacred artefact to its contents. Their cargo was a single coffin, carved from white marble and decorated in gold, which they had carried halfway across the galaxy. Saint Rodrigo Alexander had been born on Terra, five centuries ago, and it had been decided by the Ecclesiarchy that his mortal remains would be interred on the Throneworld itself, in this very cathedral, as a reward for his many acts of devoted service to the God-Emperor. They had rushed on their journey here, in order to deliver the Saint's mortal remains in time for the celebrations of the millennium's end.
Though none of them had voiced such thoughts out loud, all of them were thinking about the various prophecies and rumors that claimed that the God-Emperor would rise again upon the coming of the forty-second millennium. At the very least, Luha was. How could she not ? This was her first time on Holy Terra, and for it to have happened at such an auspicious time ?
More than ever, she could feel the hand of the God-Emperor on her shoulder, guiding her path. It had brought them here, even as the dark tides of the Warp had grown ever more restless around the Sol system, and carried them past the evils that lurked in its depths.
The pilgrims had been pushed back so that she and the other nine Sisters could bring the ornate coffin to its appointed place. It weighed heavy on them, even with their power armor – they had been holding it on their shoulders for hours, standing perfectly still. It had been decided that the coffin would be put in place at the striking of midnight, and the crowd watched in breathless anticipation, hands held tight in prayer.
Amidst the whispered prayers of the crowd were other, more unsettling currents. Rumors spread like wildfire among the billions of pilgrims, and recent events had the entire planet on edge. While Luha knew her mind should be focused solely on the holiness of her duty, she could not help but overhear some of the whispers.
"… they say that the Primarchs have returned …"
"… Magnus and Lorgar, from sleep and the Warp itself …"
"… sailors on the ship looked nervous during the entire last leg of the trip …"
"… were on Mars a week ago, I heard from the guards ..."
"… coming here for the celebrations ..."
"… returned after ten thousand years …"
"… blessed be His name, His sons are coming back, and soon so will He …"
If it was true – if the Primarchs had truly returned – then it was momentous news, the kind that would shake the very foundations of the Imperium and shape the course of the galaxy.
The relationship between the Primarchs and the Ecclesiarchy was a complicated one. It was a fact that the priests of the God-Emperor tried very hard to suppress that the sons of Him On Earth held little love for the Imperial Creed, regarding the worship of the God-Emperor as a betrayal of the ideals of the ancient Great Crusade – a time none but they now remembered. But the Church had had a long time to understand how this could be.
The Emperor had created the Primarchs as His sons. Not only had He wanted them to serve as His generals, He had also hoped to alleviate the burden of His duty by creating beings closer to Him than we ever could hope to be. The Primarchs did not see the Emperor as a God not because they were heretics, but because to them, He was a father, not a figure to be worshipped. What kind of father would want his children to abase themselves before him, rather than stand alongside him as equal – or at least as close as one such as the God-Emperor could hope to have ?
Space Marines rarely appreciated that explanation, however. Though they were closer to Humanity that the Primarchs, they were transhuman still, and could not see through the eyes of their lesser. That was fine, Luha knew. That was why she and the rest of the Ecclesiarchy existed : to provide a bridge between the unfathomable divinity of Him On Earth and the uncounted trillions of souls in the Imperium.
Magnus and Lorgar, though … Neither of them were held in highest regards by the canon of the Imperial Creed – that illustrious honor belonged to martyred Horus Lupercal and Konrad Curze. The Thousand Sons had their own interpretation of the Creed within the Prosperine Dominion, and the Word Bearers were dreaded – and sometimes even despised – for their unrelenting watch over the Ecclesiarchy, ever ready to perform as they had during the Reign of Blood and purge the organization whose existence they only grudgingly tolerated from corruption.
"Sisters," called out Sister Superior Anastasia, pulling Luha from her thoughts. "Now."
The ten Sisters moved as one, laying down the coffin of Saint Rodrigo onto its allotted space before walking back while a tech-priest closed the dome of reinforced plexiglass around it – one final defense before activating the stasis-field. The sculpted features of the Saint were displayed in painted marble, his expression one of silent tranquillity. In the distance, Luha heard the bells ring twelve times, marking midnight and the turning of the millennium.
And then, on the twelfth ringing, the stasis-locked coffin exploded.
There was heat and light, and the sound of stone cracking and glass breaking. Luha was sent flying back, crashing onto the floor. She rolled back to her feet, hands falling onto her flamer – the only weapon she had kept, her chainsword left in the armory of the Order Pronatus vessel that had carried them to Sol.
She felt something burn on her cheek. She raised her right hand to her face, and the armored gauntlet came off spotted with red.
I have been cut, she realized, cold horror rising within her as she saw the crimson droplets falling onto the Cathedral's hallowed floor. The sound of them hitting the marble should have been drowned in the confused screams raising from all around her, and yet to her ears it sounded like the Bell of Lost Souls heralding her damnation. I have bleed upon Holy Terra.
It was forbidden. It was blasphemy. And while even the most naive of waifs knew that enforcing the ancient prohibition of bloodshed across all of Terra was impossible, breaking it here, surrounded by so many holy relics, was a sin beyond compare. The world around her ceased to exist, restricted to the sight of the scarlet heresy she had unwittingly committed.
Luha closed her eyes, waiting for the rush of heat that would precede her incineration alongside any trace of her sin. It would not be enough to atone for it, but perhaps it would be enough for her to implore the God-Emperor's clemency when she was cast before His throne for judgement.
But the fire did not come. Slowly, hesitantly, her mind turned away from the spiral of guilt and self-hatred, and she opened her eyes to find that the horror of her mind had followed her into the real world.
The Cathedral had become a slaughterhouse. All around her were the bodies of her Sisters and the pilgrims, cut apart and rearranged into grotesque sculptures of flesh and bone. Some of them were still alive, twitching in unspeakable agony. The stasis fields around nearby relics were sizzling, one of them failing before her eyes with a sound like a final exhalation of breath that was soon followed by the gold-clad skeletal hand inside blackening and falling apart.
Yet even this abomination paled compared to the creature that towered over her. Luha's mind could not comprehend it in its entirety, the faith that burned within her rejecting its very existence. She saw pale skin, four limbs, a horned head and the notion of purple chitin – and eyes, eyes without color that looked at her …
"Oh," it said, while holding the bloodied torso of a pilgrim in one claw and the head of Sister Superior Anastasia in another. "You finally opened your eyes, sweetling. Be honest with me : do you think these colors would pair well together ?"
No. No, this couldn't be. Not here, not on Terra. Not here, in the heart of the Ecclesiarchy's greatest temple. Impossible.
Luha realized she had spoken the last word aloud when the towering creature cocked its elongated head to the side, the casual gesture obscenely revolting. It threw aside the bloody remains it had been playing with, its attention focusing on Luha.
"Oh, but it is very much possible, sweetling." Its voice was like rotten honey and silk. "It wasn't easy, of course. I could never have done it without you."
"What ?" The single word was all Luha could manage to get out.
"You brought me in, my dear," it said, pointing at the ruined coffin beneath its legs. "You and your dear sisters. Then, when the explosives my servants had put inside exploded, you were the first to spill blood. It called to the old power that has echoed on this blighted world for millennia, cowed by that awful light. But the light … well. The light has fallen dark, sweetling. And so I rose, from the hallowed flesh of one of the Dark Prince's champions."
"N-no. This can't be. Saint Rodrigo ..."
"Dear Rodrigo was ours," the daemon delightfully explained. "He was always ours. I could carve his sins into the walls of this false temple and run out of space before I was halfway done. He lied and seduced, and spread his corruption across the clergy of entire Sectors to help his own elevation. He was a prophet, but one pledged to the Prince of Pleasure and Pain – and for his devotion, he was rewarded with this final opportunity to serve, even in death."
"You lie," she croaked out.
"Do I ?" Its smiled revealed teeth of perfect white embedded with jewels that gleamed with the light of shrieking souls. "Perhaps I do. After all, your scriptures tell you that I and all my brethren are creatures of deceit and treachery. But answer me this, sweetling … If I am lying, then how am I here ?"
It extended its four arms, gesturing to their surroundings.
"This is Terra," it said, purring the name of the Holy Throneworld with sickening fondness. "Not since great Guilliman himself has my kind walked upon this world."
"The Emperor protects," Luha whispered. "You cannot be here ! His Light will consume you !"
"Your god is dead," laughed the monstrosity. "There is no one left to hear your prayers."
No. No, it couldn't be true. She refused to believe it. And yet … and yet, something had changed. Something she had felt since her ship had emerged from the Warp at the border of Sol, something she hadn't even noticed was there, suddenly had vanished. Could it be … ? No. No, it was heresy to merely think it, to even consider it possible …
"You are starting to see," cooed the Keeper of Secrets. "Yet you still refuse the truth, still cling to the lies. How disappointing, sweetling. But I am not an ungrateful creature. You will live, little Luha. You will live to see all the lies you dedicated yourself to cast down, to witness the Light's End and the Angel's rise. You will live to behold the true meaning of glory !"
Luha ran, her mind awash with horror, the monster's laughter following behind her.
"Run ! Run, sweetling ! As fast as you can, as far as you dare ! In the end, it will change nothing."
She screamed and stumbled, pushing aside the pilgrims and other servants of the Creed from her path with her armor-augmented strength. They did not resist her, their minds too caught in the awful sounds and lights emanating from the Cathedral.
"The Anathema is dead," mocked the daemon. "Soon, this entire world will be our playground ! So run, sweetling. It will make the chase all the more … intoxicating !"
And as Sister Luha ran from the Cathedral of the Immortal Emperor, K'alith the Prurient, Keeper of Secrets of the Youngest God, returned to its gory work of desecration. Amidst the blood of hundreds of pilgrims, it called to the Echoes that slumbered within the collective psyche of Terra, and drew them forth in all their horror and magnificence. Its sculptures of flesh began to twitch, as infernal intelligences flowed through them and claimed them as their own.
One by one, these possessed constructs tore themselves free of K'alith's great work, and turned stolen eyes upon the rest of the horrified pilgrims, who had finally begun to run from the nightmare that had manifested itself within the Cathedral of the Immortal Emperor. Screams of pain mixed with those of terror and madness, a discordant note among the never-ending chorus of prayers and chimes that filled the territory of the Ecclesiarchy on Terra.
AN : Well, technically it's still before the end of the week, so I kept my word for once.
Yes, as it turns out, even working from home is quite tiring and doesn't leave a lot of time to write. I had this chapter almost finished the entire week, but just got it done today.
Poor Luha. At least she survived, which wasn't the initial plan - but of course, considering the Angel War has begun, whether that's a mercy or not ... actually, considering what's unfolding on the other side of the Veil, it's definitely a mercy. Never mind.
Another change from the initial draft was that this chapter was going to be titled "Holiness", but then I remembered that the latin prefix for all things saint-related is "hagio", and I just had to go with that instead.
Those of you who recognized the names "Rodrigo" and "Alexander" probably saw the twist coming.
The next Interlude needs to be written down entirely - I have the title, the name and theme of the warband, and the setup of the Interlude, but I still need to actually write it. The one after that is already done - but I am going to publish those in order, so you will have to wait.
I am also working on the next chapter of A Blade Recast. We will see how much progress I make during the week-end.
Zahariel out.