Chapter 2 - Ascending from the Depths
The silence in the archives was suffocating. The hum of broken cogitators and the faint flicker of emergency lights were the only remnants of the life that had once filled the room. Eris stood there, alone in the wreckage, her mind reeling from the events that had just unfolded.
She was on her own. Her hands trembled as she reached down, shakily drawing her laspistol from its holster. She had never felt the weight of it quite like this before. The cold metal seemed far too heavy in her grip, the reality of what was happening settling over her like a crushing weight.
She couldn't stay here. Whatever had torn through the warp and reached Gaia was only the beginning. There was no one coming to help her. She needed to move. Taking a shaky breath, she turned toward the door, her legs unsteady beneath her as she forced herself to step out of the archives. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, the flickering lights casting long shadows across the walls. It felt colder here, like the air itself had been stripped of any warmth.
As she left the safety of the room behind, her hand remained tightly clenched around the grip of her pistol. She wasn't sure if she was ready to use it, but that didn't matter. She had no other choice now. The corridors were eerily quiet. What little light flickered overhead revealed a trail of destruction. Broken cogitators lined the walls, their once-bright screens now dim and cracked. Cables dangled from the ceiling, sparking occasionally, illuminating the wreckage around her in brief flashes.
There were no signs of life, only the lingering scent of burnt circuitry and oil. The closer to the surface she got, the more apparent the devastation became. And yet, there were no servitors, no Mechanicus personnel rushing to repair the damage. Only silence.
As she rounded a corner, the sight before her brought her to a room was a slaughterhouse. Bodies of Mechanicus security forces lay scattered across the floor, their red robes soaked in oil and twisted metal. The corpses of servitors were strewn among them, their mechanical limbs torn apart and scattered like broken toys. But it wasn't just Mechanicus that had fallen here. Interspersed with the dead were the bloated, festering remains of daemons—their decaying forms twisted into grotesque shapes, their foul blood staining the walls and floors.
Eris's breath caught in her throat as she stifled a gag from the putrid smell. So this was Chaos. She had read about it in the archives, studied the incursions, and the battles fought against the forces of the warp. But nothing had prepared her for seeing it with her own eyes, of experiencing the horror in person.
Her heart raced as her gaze swept across the room.
Then she saw it: at the far end of the hall, hunched over the remains of a fallen servitor, was a Plaguebearer.
The daemon's rotting flesh glistened with filth, its bloated body leaking dark ichor from open sores. Its movements were sluggish, labored—it had been injured in the fight, but it wasn't dead. For a moment, Eris froze. The creature's back was turned, and its attention focused on the carnage it had wrought. But it wouldn't stay that way for long. Her mind raced. She couldn't fight this thing.
Her gaze flicked to the nearby cogitator, still sparking faintly from the earlier battle. It wasn't much, but it was something. Her hands trembled as she raised her laspistol again, breathing through her mouth to avoid retching, her breath shallow, she took aim at the damaged console. She squeezed the trigger.
The shot connected, and the cogitator exploded in a shower of sparks. Electricity arced through the room, striking the Plaguebearer in the back. The daemon roared in pain as its bloated body convulsed, its massive form twitching violently under the assault.
But it wasn't dead. Not yet. A sickening squelch echoed through the corridor as one of the creature's tumors burst, sending debris tumbling from the ceiling. Heavy monitors, still attached to their dangling cables, swayed dangerously above the daemon's head.
Eris's breath quickened. This was her chance. Without hesitating, she raised her laspistol again, firing at the cables overhead. Her hands shook, her shots erratic, but after a few tense moments, the cables snapped. The monitors crashed down onto the Plaguebearer with a sickening thud, pinning the daemon beneath their weight. The creature let out one last, gurgling roar, its bloated form writhing as it struggled weakly against its restraints.
Eris approached slowly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. She had never been this close to death before—never faced something like this. Her hands trembled as she raised her pistol one last time.
With a final shot, she silenced the daemon for good. As it began to dissolve into nothingness, she staggered back, retching and gagging, but alive.
The room was still now, the only sound the faint crackle of electricity from the destroyed cogitators. The air was thick with the stench of rot and decay, mingling with the metallic tang of oil and blood.
Eris stood there, staring down at the ground where the creature had been. Her mind struggled to process what had just happened. She had killed a daemon. She had survived. the weight of it threatened to overwhelm her, even in victory, but she shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts and smells at once.
There was no time to dwell on it. The halls ahead were still dark, and the sounds of distant battle echoed faintly from above. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a galvanic rifle off the ground next to a fallen guard, along with a couple of magazines of his ammunition.
As she stood, the gravity of what she had done set in. A small voice prickled in her mind, saying she should just give up and wait for rescue like anyone sane would.
It was almost incessant, screaming and tugging at her mind. But it had a point. She had already done enough, more than what would be expected of any archivist of ANY experience, let alone someone like her. Shoving it away wasn't easy. It almost gnawed at her. Her grip on the rifle loosened. She could just...
She shouldered the rifle and began to slap herself across the face. It had always been her way of waking back up during a long lecture of overnight survey. It was almost a muscle memory at this point, anytime her mind wandered.
Her resolve seemed to strengthen. The air around her almost shivered, sharpening, with every strike. Reorienting herself, she shook her head. With one last look back, she made for the doorway, eyes determined. As she made her way through the upper levels of the facility carefully, the devastation only grew worse. The walls were scorched, the floors littered with the remains of more security forces and servitors.
The air itself seemed to quiver and shake as she moved, reality itself groaning against the breach. Whatever had breached, Gaia wasn't done yet. If anything, it was just starting.
Eris's legs felt heavy, her body aching with every step. But she forced herself to keep moving. She had to get to the surface. She had to warn someone.
The gunfire grew louder as she neared the entrance of the facility. The faint echoes of lasguns and the guttural roars of daemons reached her ears, the sounds of battle growing closer with every passing moment.
Finally, she reached the upper levels. The corridor ahead was dimly lit, but she could see the faint glow of light coming from the doorway that led to the surface. Her breath hitched as she heard the unmistakable sound of orders being barked out and the chaotic clatter of gunfire.
There were people up there. Someone was still fighting.
Eris pressed on, her heart racing. The battle was close—closer than she had expected. She could hear the daemons' roars, the frantic shouting of soldiers as they fought to hold the line. She was almost there.