Chapter 12: Lost and Found
I run, my breath tearing raggedly from my lungs, each step a desperate push away from the camp. Darkness engulfs me, a heavy, suffocating presence that presses against my skin. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a drum of fear and adrenaline. The noise of the camp fades, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the underhive.
The ground beneath my feet is uneven, littered with debris. I trip, my ankle twisting painfully, and I crash to the ground. The impact jars my bones, and I taste blood. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the throbbing pain, and keep moving. Every shadow seems to reach out, clawing at me, trying to drag me back.
My vision blurs with tears, and I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. The distant lights of the perimeter are gone now, lost in the labyrinth of pipes and rusted metal. I stumble again, my hands scraping against rough surfaces. The scent of oil and decay is thick in the air, making it hard to breathe.
I slow down, my legs trembling with exhaustion. The silence here is different, heavier. It feels like the very air is waiting, watching. The occasional drip of water echoes like a distant heartbeat, and I realize how vast this place must be. The echoes bounce back at me, distorted, creating a disorienting symphony of sound.
A rustling noise to my left makes me jump. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat. In the darkness, shapes move, shadows within shadows. I can't see them clearly, but I can feel their presence. Eyes watching from the dark, the underhive's hidden inhabitants. My skin prickles with fear, and I force myself to move again.
Every step is a struggle, my body aching from the falls and the relentless pace. I run my hand along a wall, feeling the cold, damp metal under my fingers. The texture changes, slick with something I can't identify. I pull my hand back, shuddering.
The ground shifts beneath me, and I nearly fall again. I catch myself, my hands landing in something soft and squishy. The smell hits me immediately—rotting food, decaying matter. I gag, pulling my hands away, wiping them on my already filthy clothes.
"Emperor, help me," I whisper automatically, my voice trembling. The darkness feels like it's closing in, a living thing that wants to swallow me whole. I push forward, my pace slower now, more cautious. The distant hum of machinery is a constant reminder of where I am, the lifeblood of the hive city above flowing through these ancient veins.
I hear the faintest sound of laughter, high and eerie, echoing from somewhere unseen. It sends a chill down my spine. Who could laugh in a place like this? The thought is terrifying. I quicken my pace, my heart pounding even harder.
A sudden sharp pain in my foot makes me cry out. I look down, barely able to see the outline of a jagged piece of metal protruding from the ground. Blood seeps from the wound, and I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears. I limp forward, each step a fresh wave of agony.
I slow, my legs heavy and weak. Ahead, a cluster of pipes descend into the floor, a tangle of metal that seems to offer a hiding place. I squeeze into the narrow space, my body trembling with exhaustion and fear. The pipes are cold against my skin, the metal slick with moisture. I huddle there, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
The sound of my own breathing is deafening in the confined space. I can hear the distant rumble of machinery, the occasional drip of water echoing like a taunt. My mind races, images of the child's lifeless eyes flashing before me. Her small body, discarded like refuse, haunts my thoughts.
"Why, Emperor?" I whisper, clutching the broken guardian icon to my chest. "Why did you let her die? Why let her die, and not me?"
Tears stream down my face, the salty trails mixing with the grime and blood. My heart aches with a pain deeper than any physical wound. I feel so small, so helpless. The weight of my armor presses down on me, reminding me of everything it stands for, everything I stand for. I feel bile rise in my chest and struggle out of the flack vest as though even the act of wearing it was offering a silent consent to the murder so callously committed and even more callously condoned.
The distant echoes of the underhive are a chorus of unseen dangers. I hear shuffling footsteps, whispers that seem to come from the walls themselves. The darkness is alive, filled with the unseen eyes of those who dwell here. It's a world of shadows and hidden threats, and I am just a small, terrified girl lost in its depths.
My thoughts churn, images of the girl, her eyes wide with terror, her small body crumpling to the ground. I can't shake the memory. It claws at me, demanding answers I don't have. I press my hands against my temples, trying to block it out, but it only grows louder.
"Emperor," I whisper, my voice trembling, barely a breath. "Why did you let her die?"
The words hang in the air, unanswered. The darkness seems to close in, a silent, suffocating presence. My chest tightens, and I feel the tears welling up again. I can't hold them back. They spill over, hot and bitter, mingling with the grime on my face.
"Why do you allow such suffering?" I plead, my voice rising in desperation. "Are we not all your children?"
The silence is deafening. I clutch the broken guardian icon tighter, my fingers digging into the metal until it cuts into my palm. The pain is a sharp, physical reminder of the turmoil inside me. I press my forehead against the pipes, the cold seeping into my skin.
"Do you even see us down here?" I demand, my voice cracking. "Do you care about the little lives that make up your Imperium?"
The only response is the distant drip of water, a mocking echo of my own despair. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. The darkness offers no comfort, only the cold, unyielding silence.
"Please, take away this pain, this confusion," I beg, my voice hoarse. "Give me the peace I had when I believed without question. Show me it's all okay, that you have a plan, that there is mercy in your heart."
The tears flow freely now, unstoppable. I press my hands against my face, the broken guardian icon biting into my skin. The darkness feels like a living thing, pressing in on all sides, suffocating me.
"Don't abandon me, please," I whisper, my voice a broken plea. "Don't leave me alone in the dark. I have nothing but my faith, and even that is slipping away."
The silence is absolute. The darkness offers no answers, no comfort. I am alone, more alone than I have ever been. My heart aches with a pain deeper than any physical wound. The girl's face haunts me, her eyes wide with terror, her small body crumpling to the ground. I can't shake the memory.
"Why did you save me?" I ask, my voice barely more than a breath. "Why did the Light Woman bring me out of this place, only to leave me here again?"
There is no answer, only the oppressive silence. I curl up tighter, pressing my face against the cold metal of the pipes. The laspistol is still clutched in my hand, a small, cold comfort in the vast, uncaring expanse.
"Why was I saved, and not her?" I whisper, the question tearing at my heart. "Why am I here, when she is gone?"
The tears continue to flow, unstoppable. I am lost in the darkness, my faith a fragile, flickering flame. The silence is absolute, the darkness impenetrable. I wonder if the Emperor even looks at what happens down here, if these lives are too insignificant to matter.
"Please," I beg, my voice a broken whisper. "Please, show me that you care. Show me that this is not all for nothing. Show me that there is mercy in your heart."
But there is no answer, only the oppressive silence. The darkness closes in, suffocating me. I am alone, more alone than I have ever been. My heart aches with a pain deeper than any physical wound. I feel the exhaustion dragging at my eyelids, my body heavy with fatigue.
I curl up against the warm pipe, the laspistol clutched tightly in my hand. Darkness envelops me, pulling me into a fitful sleep. My dreams are haunted by the child's face, my own reflection, and half remembered memories of a life that seems so distant and yet so close at hand.
The darkness is thick and unyielding as I drift in and out of fitful sleep.
A faint sound stirs me. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen intently, straining to make out the noise. Footsteps. No voices, just the steady, methodical tread of boots on the gritty floor. Panic flares in my chest, and I clutch the broken guardian icon tighter, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
Through the darkness, I see a faint glow, the lumen beam cutting through the gloom. I can hear them now, closer. The servo skull's eerie hum, its small, mechanical eyes scanning the ground. It holds my helmet in its grasper, and I know they're tracking me by my scent.
"She's close," a gruff voice whispers, and I recognize it as one of the Gilead's Gravediggers. "Blood trail here."
My heart races, and I press myself deeper into the pipes, willing myself to disappear. For a moment, fear grips me, and I worry they're coming to execute me for desertion. But then I hear the veteran's voice over his comm bead.
"We've got a blood trail. Inform Sister Helena that we'll be returning with Aurora shortly."
Relief floods through me, and I can almost breathe again. Another cadet's voice breaks the silence.
"Pretty stupid of her to run off," he mutters.
"More interesting that she left her helmet behind," Lucious's voice adds, dripping with disdain.
"Quiet," the veteran snaps, his lumen sweeping towards the pipes.
I know I can't hide much longer. Sleep has calmed some of my turmoil, though I'm far from peaceful. Faith or no faith, right or wrong, running off was probably the stupidest thing I've done, and I know I can't keep hiding. Taking a deep breath, I call out softly.
"I'm here. I'm coming out."
I push myself slowly from the pipes, wincing as my cut foot scrapes against the rough metal. Pain lances up my leg, but I grit my teeth and limp forward. The veteran steps forward, his eyes narrowing as the servo skull hovers closer, verifying my scent.
"There you are," the veteran says, his tone a mixture of relief and reprimand. The servo-skull hovers closer, the familiar scent of oil and incense filling the air as it verifies my scent.
The veteran opens his mouth to continue, but a lasbolt cuts him short. His face explodes in a spray of blood and bone, his body slumping forward onto me. I gasp, the warmth of his blood soaking into my clothes. The servo-skull follows, exploding into a shower of sparks.
Rough hands grab my shoulders, throwing me down beside the veteran's lifeless body. There's a muted scuffle, a third shot, and the body of a cadet falls beside me, his face a ruined mess.
"Are we secure?" Lucious's voice, calm and collected, cuts through the panic.
Two boys in cadet uniforms take positions at the pipes, confirming their security. "Secure, sir."
"Good," Lucious steps into the light, his smile a cruel slash in the darkness. "Hello, little rat."
I scramble to bring my pistol up, but Lucious is faster. He shoots my mechanical shoulder three times, the metal fusing and sparking. Pain explodes through me, and I scream, the synaptic link to the augmetic shutting down, deadening the agony.
Lucious's grin widens. "Your little friend Valeria told everyone you'd taken it upon yourself to find your master. But I've been watching you, little rat. I've had my friends watch you. Scurrying about, cleaning, polishing, crying. Always crying."
He steps closer, looming over me. "You almost ruined my fun when you threw yourself off that balcony. But you lived, little heretic. We can't have that, can we?" His face curls into a sneer, "You're a little heretic, aren't you? A sewer rat, polluting everything you touch." His words are a litany of hate, each one a dagger. "You don't belong up here. You belong down there, with the other rat I shot."
I snarl, trying to launch myself at him, but my augmetic fails to respond. Lucious kicks me in the face, sending me sprawling back to the ground.
"I suppose I should thank you, little rat," Lucious says, pulling out a small, worn piece of dried skin. "I was worried I'd have to kill you in camp, but you made it easy, running off like this." He glances at the dead veteran and the cadet, then back at me, laughing at my confusion.
"That veteran, he didn't care anymore. A traitor, blowing his pay on drugs." Lucious points to the cadet, "And him, he put personal feelings above the great work of purifying the Imperium."
Lucious's eyes bore into mine. "But you, Aurora, you're the worst. A heretic, a rat. Feeding off the Imperium's lifeblood. I saw it the first time we met. I see everything, little rat. I've been chosen, chosen by the Emperor to undertake a great cleansing, a crusade, to rid the imperium of the complacent, the self-serving, the heretic, and those who sympathize with heretics."
He puts away his pistol, drawing a knife instead. I whimper, trying to shuffle back, but he steps on my wounded ankle, and I cry out in pain.
"You see, the Emperor chose me, revealed himself to me," He holds up the dried skin and something on it, or maybe in it, moves and twists, not on the skin, but in my mind as I stare at it. I yelp in shock and turn away, a sudden migraine splitting my senses and for a moment, I black out. When I come to, Lucious is there, filling my vision, the flap of skin now situated over his left eye, glaring down at me, into me, through me, burrowing inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
"I see you," Lucious whispers, "I see it in you, in so many, the heresy, the self-serving thoughts, the desire for comfort and mercy and love and pity and pleasure and—"
I lashed out with my good arm, the Broken Guardian grasped between my fingers like a tiny dagger. He caught my hand at the wrist and ripped the icon from it.
"Shhhh," Lucious whispers, kneeling beside me. "I'm not going to kill you, I'm not even going to torture you. I am the seer, only rarely allowed to pile skulls before the Emperor's bloody throne. Another will come to purge you, little heretic, hopefully your own master. I simply need her to see what I see… now… hold still."