Chapter 3

Kaelon sat rigidly in his seat, hands clasped together to hide their trembling. The council chamber was dim, the red glow of lumens casting harsh shadows across the faces of the assembled Tech-Priests. Magos Heironymus sat to his left, a model of composure amid the storm of anger and fear. The air was thick with tension, like the suffocating atmosphere before a storm breaks.

"The very notion is abhorrent!" thundered Magos Gerontius, his mechadendrites snapping angrily, amplifying his rage. His voice boomed through the chamber, reverberating from the stone walls. "To suggest that the Omnissiah—the Emperor—could be some form of ancient scrapcode, a leftover from the Dark Age, is blasphemy of the highest order! This Cogito dares to plant the seeds of doubt in our hearts, to suggest that our God is a mere construct, a deception spun by the Great Deceiver?"

Magos Valerian, his face more metal than flesh, leaned forward with a creak of servos. "The Emperor's divinity is beyond question," he rasped, his voice like the grinding of ancient gears. "He is the guardian of mankind, the shield against the Warp. To claim He could be some sentient corruption, an abominable intelligence from the Dark Age, spits on everything we have fought for. No mere relic of technology could wield the power of the Astronomican or hold the Imperium together. This is the work of Tzeentch, sowing doubt and discord."

Kaelon's eyes flickered to Heironymus, who sat still, his mask hiding any trace of emotion. The council was ablaze with indignation, their outrage spilling over like a dam about to burst. Even suggesting that the Omnissiah might be anything other than the divine Emperor's will was dangerous, yet Heironymus had dared to entertain the thought, if only to disprove it.

Heironymus raised his hand, and the uproar dimmed, though the tension was palpable. "I share your outrage, my brothers," he began, his voice calm but forceful. "The idea that the Omnissiah could be some ancient machine twisted by Tzeentchian lies is abhorrent. But Cogito is not an ordinary relic. It predates much of our recorded history. It may possess knowledge we have lost. We must interrogate it further. To destroy or hand it over to the Inquisition without understanding what it knows would be a mistake. Knowledge is power, and we must use it wisely."

"Wisely?" Magos Darius snarled, his metal hand clenching into a fist. "You speak of wisdom, yet you would risk everything by listening to the whispers of a corrupted logic engine? These abominations are traps, designed to lead us astray. Our duty is to protect the sanctity of the Machine God's truth, not to play with fire. The Inquisition exists for this very reason—to root out and destroy the taint of heresy. Every moment we delay is a moment for this filth to spread!"

Magos Helva, her voice a thin, metallic hiss, added, "This is not only about heresy. If word spreads that the Emperor could be some corrupted code, the ramifications would be catastrophic. Worlds could fall into rebellion. Tzeentch thrives on doubt, turning it into madness and revolt. We cannot allow such ideas to fester. We must act now, swiftly, to cleanse this taint."

Heironymus's voice hardened. "Calling in the Inquisition is not a matter to be taken lightly. They will not simply remove Cogito. They will assume control, strip us of our autonomy, and dig through every aspect of our operations. You know what they are capable of—their purges are thorough. Should they see fit, they could declare Exterminatus, condemning not just Cogito but this entire forge world. We could lose everything. Is that what you want?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence. The Inquisition's involvement was a double-edged sword, capable of purging heresy but also of annihilating all in its path. The fear of losing control, of seeing everything they had built raised to the ground, gripped them. Yet the fear of heresy, of a shadow spreading through the Imperium, was just as real.

Magos Gerontius's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unforgiving. "We are walking a knife's edge. To entertain Cogito's claims is to flirt with damnation. To do nothing is to risk the spread of corruption. If the Emperor is truly the divine Machine God, then we must eradicate any who would suggest otherwise. But if there is even a hint of truth..."

Darius spoke, his voice cold and precise. "There can be no truth in the ramblings of a scrap-code defiler. But to ignore the potential danger it poses, to allow it to speak unchecked, may be just as reckless. We cannot afford to be paralysed by indecision. We must act, one way or another."

Heironymus remained silent, his thoughts hidden. Kaelon could feel the tension ratcheting up, the weight of the decision pressing down on them all. The council was split, torn between the desire to understand and the instinct to destroy, between the need to maintain control and the fear of heresy.

Heironymus finally spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will adjourn for now. This matter is too grave for hasty decisions. We must consider all angles, understand the full scope of the threat. But remember this: if we act in fear, we may bring about the very thing we seek to prevent."

The chamber slowly emptied, the echo of the Tech-Priests' footsteps fading into the darkness. The last of them disappeared through the heavy doors, leaving Kaelon and Heironymus alone in the vast, dimly lit room. Silence fell like a shroud, thick and almost tangible, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. The tension from the heated debate still lingered, pressing down on Kaelon like the weight of a forge-world's sky.

Heironymus remained seated, his gaze fixed on the empty table in front of him. He was motionless, like a statue carved from iron and steel, his ceremonial robes draped around him. The red glow of the lumens above cast long shadows over his metallic face, making him seem both ancient and ageless. Kaelon felt a sudden pang of uncertainty, seeing his mentor so still, so silent. Heironymus, who was always the embodiment of control and authority, now seemed lost in the silence.

Finally, Heironymus turned his head, the faint whir of servos breaking the oppressive quiet. His eyes, usually sharp and decisive, were clouded, and Kaelon saw something in them he had never seen before: doubt.

"What do you think, Kaelon?" Heironymus asked, his voice soft, almost fragile in the emptiness of the chamber. The usual steel in his tone was replaced by a hint of vulnerability, a rare glimpse behind the formidable mask of authority. "This... revelation from Cogito. The council is divided, and so am I. Is there wisdom in what we heard, or are they just the ramblings of a corrupted machine spirit?"

Kaelon hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on him like a physical force. He had always looked up to Heironymus as a pillar of strength and knowledge, someone who always knew the right course. To see him uncertain now, to hear him seeking guidance, was both unsettling and strangely empowering. Heironymus needed his insight, his judgement.

Taking a deep breath, Kaelon gathered his thoughts. "I... believe we should question Cogito more, Magos," he said, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "Cogito's claims are deeply unsettling, but dismissing a deeper interrogation outright might be a mistake. If there is even a possibility that it holds knowledge we don't understand, we have a duty to explore it. Knowledge is power, and we should not fear it. We are the Mechanicus, after all. It is our role to seek understanding, even if it challenges our beliefs."

Heironymus's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps concern—crossing his face. "Kaelon, you underestimate the danger. Cogito's words are not just unsettling; they are heretical. To question it further is to risk contamination. The council is right to fear what it represents. We have seen what happens when the seed of doubt is planted—it grows, it corrupts. The more we listen, the more we risk becoming ensnared in its web."

Kaelon felt a pang of frustration but remained resolute. "If we destroy it now, we could be throwing away valuable knowledge. If Cogito is lying, we should be able to uncover the lies and learn from them. If it speaks the truth, then understanding that truth could protect us. I don't believe ignorance will keep us safe, Magos. Understanding our enemy, even a potential one, might be our best defence."

Heironymus shook his head, his tone firming. "And what if that understanding leads us down a path we cannot return from? The line between knowledge and heresy is not just thin—it is invisible. We would be playing into Tzeentch's hands, unravelling our own faith, our own beliefs. I have seen the Inquisition destroy worlds for less. We cannot afford to be careless."

Kaelon's voice softened, but there was a note of urgency. "I understand your caution, Magos. But we are not just protectors of the faith; we are seekers of truth. If we close our minds now, out of fear, we risk becoming blind. We need to proceed with care, yes, but we cannot turn away from knowledge. Isn't that the essence of what it means to be of the Mechanicus?"

Heironymus sighed, a sound that seemed to echo in the vast chamber. He looked at Kaelon, the conflict in his eyes clear. " But the risk... it's too great. We are treading on the edge of a precipice, and one misstep could bring ruin. We must proceed with caution, if at all. I will think on this further, but for now, we will keep Cogito contained. We will not question it further until I am certain of our path."

Kaelon nodded, a mix of disappointment and understanding in his expression. He knew Heironymus was right to be cautious, but he couldn't shake the feeling that turning away from Cogito's knowledge might leave them vulnerable. As they stood and began to leave the chamber, the air between them heavy with unresolved tension, Kaelon silently vowed to find a way to learn the truth, without falling into the trap of heresy.