Day 68, Continued

"What… just happened?"

It was Aliciel who had asked that question, Tide realized after a moment. Normally, he'd have known that instantly, but he was somewhat… distracted.

He stood in many places at once, but the eyes he was currently focused on looking through belonged to the treeman he had sent to the moon that was slowly being transformed into a verdant realm of life. The moon that had just had a Warp Rift open up on it, dumping out thirteen humans dressed in old rags, a broken Rubric Marine, and a certain Chaos Sorcerer.

"Tide?" Aliciel spoke again, but she got no answer. Every bit of Tide's focus that he could spare was dedicated towards her first question. On Malum, factories ground to a halt as the biomass within them turned its thoughts from construction to consideration. On this moon, the bioforms dedicated to sowing seeds of life throughout the moon went still as statues. Any thoughts of the future, of science, of his plans were temporarily tossed aside. He had not even thought to begin restraining the humans who had just appeared out of nowhere on the moon. An unprecedented percentage of his mental power was brought out to deal with this single question until,after nearly two minutes, he at last had determined his answer.

I don't know.
He had never heard of anything like what he'd just seen before. The Wendigos were one thing, while they were new he at least had an idea of how they operated, especially now that he had the knowledge Uirus had gathered.

But that… thing? It had been wearing daemon corpses like a cloak. He didn't even know daemons could have corpses. And now…

He looked out into the Warp through the crack in his Domain. Where before there had been some disruption as the Warp Rift had opened, now there was a relative quiet again. However, he now knew that state to be nothing but a lie.

The unaligned daemons, the ones not in service to any god. There were more of them now than was usual according to Uirus' knowledge, than there had been when Tide had first peered into the Warp. Now, Tide knew why.

Because something else was out there, something that used all those daemons as camouflage. Something big was resting in the Warp, not invisible, but hidden, like a chameleon changing its colors. He had seen it move in the Materium, in the reactor room of the Gallow's Eye. It had been the source of the strange singing and drumming, seemingly the reason why the Wendigos had fled and why the daemons had tried to escape. However, now that it had receded…

He wasn't sure he could see it anymore. There were countless daemons swimming in the Warp. Were all of the unaligned daemons a part of its cloak? How big was it? How dangerous was such an entity?

Tide theoretically had always known that he was just the biggest fish in a small pond, at least for the moment. The Deep Warp had taught him that lesson, taught him he was not undetectable. And now, it seemed something else had found him and, worse still, taken an interest.

How else could one explain the cultists showing up on the moon he was sowing with life? Whatever this thing was, it wanted him to know it knew about him. And that was terrifying.

The gods, at least, he could see. The Deep Warp, he knew to stay out of. But this thing… He had no idea how powerful it was. What he had seen moving might have been all or most of what it was. Indeed, why else hide like it was doing if it could rival the gods in power? However, just because this thing could not defeat the gods, did not mean it could not crush him easily. Especially if it knew the areas he operated in, which it clearly did.

"What do we do?" Aliciel asked, bringing Tide back to reality a bit. Slowly, he let his focus flow back into a more balanced state, resuming his myriad of tasks.

For whatever reason, this… entity seems to not be actively hostile. While I would not normally trust that assumption… there is little else we can do about it at this time.

"So… just ignore… that?" Catherine Ellen asked. She seemed shaken. They all did, even the Callidus, who had taken the name Sadara.

Not ignore. Never ignore. Any research or knowledge we can gleam will be put to use. Speaking of which…

The Star Road snapped into existence over the heads of the cultists and serfs. They didn't even have the instant needed to recognize its presence before it wrapped around each of them, one-by-one, and dragged them into the Domain. Only Ahsael, who had only just begun to wake up, had the moment necessary to see something was wrong before he too vanished into Tide's realm.

His voice sent shudders through his guests as a piece of his anger leaked into his words.

And now… we begin.

The last thing he remembered was fear. Fear of death, fear of his soul being taken by daemons, fear of losing control. And then, there had been respite. He had been in a land of grass and trees, filled with flowers unlike any he had seen. Once, long ago, he had peered into the Garden of Nurgle and found life of indescribable horror. In this place, he had found life of strange beauty and alien features. Then, there was a flash of white light, and…

He was here. Wherever 'here' was.

He floated in something like water, but it was not soothing to his head's aches, nor a salve for his flesh, which still felt the chill of the Wastes and the charred wounds of a daemon's flaming claws. His mouth was filled with his own blood and his eyes struggled to see anything in the blackness, only able to make out his body, which now lacked armor entirely, wrapped instead in only his second skin that was patchworked and ragged. His wounded skin was already beginning to flake away, his genehanced body already starting to produce new flesh for him to replace that which had been lost. Yet, it was a slow process and did not stop the pain.

He had been… fighting, he recalled after a moment. His memories felt… hazy, almost not all there. Like his brain had been opened, its contents dumped out, perused, and then put back.

He had been fighting, trying to break through the hordes to escape the ship, and then… he'd made a mistake. The power of the Warp had filled his mind, mastering him instead of bending to his will as it should have. The daemons had taken advantage of that, leaping upon him to rip him apart to get at the soul chained to his physical form. He should have died to their claws and swords and fangs and whips.

And then he'd felt it. A gaze upon him, so much like Kalfen's, but different in more ways than he could count as well. It had been powerful, so much more powerful than him that he couldn't even comprehend of the difference. He'd looked up into the eyes of something vast, peering out of a cloak tightly wrapped, stitched from the thought-forms of Neverborn of countless eons that it had preyed upon, a hunter decorating its cloak with the trophies of past victories.

The Neverborn had felt its gaze too. Perhaps they knew what it was, perhaps they did not and simply feared the thing they did not know.

Only once he had finished recalling all that had occurred did Ahsael notice the feeling of being watched. Perhaps that was intentional.

It did not so much rise up from below him or out of the darkness, like some deep sea predator, as much as he simply realized it was already all around him. However, it was also not in the way that a prey animal might be surrounded by a pack or even how the serpent might coil around its victim.

No, what he felt was the feeling of prey that had already been swallowed. The thought made him shiver, sending fresh pains across his ruined flesh.

The presence was vast, more akin to an ocean than any natural beast, more entity than creature. Ahsael could not see it, but he knew it was there. It was a weight, a pressure that constricted his lungs, making every fresh gulp of air a struggle. He could not move, even though his wounds were not so great that they would have prevented him. It was like he was encased in adamantium, unbending, unbreaking, more oppressive than even the depths of a vast ocean.

And it felt hate.

It was not a burning fury as Ahsael was familiar with. Not the inferno that the Imperium taught its warriors to wield, the wildfire that drove them to scream their oaths and set them against one another if they lacked any more suitable victims to expend their energies upon. No, this was a cold rage, the wrath of an avalanche.

And it was directed wholly at him.

Yet, he also felt its restraint. The proof of that was shown in every breath he drew which was not his last. The fact that he was alive meant that it did not want him dead or, perhaps, needed him alive-!

What happened next were not words being spoken. There was a feeling like a whisper of power, yet that alone made the ocean tremble all around him. Ahsael felt his body nearly be shaken apart by the shockwave, felt his very soul shudder as it was affected in ways he hadn't believed possible. His mouth opened to scream in pain, but not noise emerged, like a fist had wrapped around his vocal cords, strangling any cries.

Then, there was a burst of hellish pain that wracked his frame. This was no physical torment, however, but something deeper. His soul, all that he was, felt almost like it had come loose, almost like a limb had been ripped off, yet it was far worse than any pain he had ever encountered. He felt something was lost in that moment, but he wasn't sure what. Again, however, no screams were allowed to pass his lips.

Words, however, were permitted, strangely enough. Even as he choked, even as he felt his vision turn blurry far more quickly than his genehanced body should have allowed, he was able to bite out a question. "W-what… do you… want?"

There was no answer. Instead, he again had the feeling of something being torn from him as every nerve in his body burned with a pain they didn't understand. Blood ran from his nose and eyes and ears. His skull ached. He tried to call upon his sorcerous power, tried to defend himself more out of instinct than anything else, a foolish thing to do since such desperation could have called predatory Neverborn to his soul like a lighthouse in the Warp. Yet, it did not matter as he struggled to remember the spells he needed. Even the simplest of his sorceries, things that he could call upon as easily as recalling his own name, were simply… gone.

"What have… you done to me?!" He cried out. Astartes were often said to feel no fear, but that was not truly the case save in a few rare individuals. Ahsael was not one of them and terror filled him at this incomprehensible monster's rage and power. "Give… give it back!"

Yet more soul-pain was all the answer he got. Few beings were aware of their own soul to any great degree, even most psykers, yet in that moment, Ahsael felt his soul quite keenly. There were holes or gouges, dug out by some claw that was still there, coiled about it like a serpent, almost lazily searching for the next portion of it to tear away.

What did it want? What could he possibly give it to make it stop this? Ahsael didn't know, didn't know why it was doing this. Was it simply malevolent, or was it because he had fought against it? It demanded no information, did not respond to his questions, yet he could not help but get the idea that it was searching for something, some answer to an unspoken question.

"Tell… me-!" He began to beg, but he gasped in pain. The tendril coiled about his soul had dug down again and he writhed in the darkness as a fresh chunk of his soul was ripped away. He could almost see it, like blue dye being tossed into a vast body of water, diffusing quickly before vanishing in the darkness. Finally, he was allowed to scream. The sound did not echo, but continued on and on into the darkness. He did not know how long he'd been screaming, but his vocal cords had grown strained and raw by the end of it.

For a moment, he was left like that, physical and spiritual pain muddling together. Was this his existence now? Every moment a torrent of suffering unlike anything he'd ever experienced?

The tendril ceased its attacks, but kept his soul within its grasp, like a serpent watching the last moments of its victim's life. It had ripped away his power… He supposed it was good if it would rip away his life as well. To live without the might he had attained, well that was hardly a life at all, wasn't it?

With the suddenness of a question answered, the tendril released his pockmarked soul and he gave out a pained sigh of something like relief. The pain was lesser now, though only slightly. His soul felt strange, weaker, like a building with poor foundations that was under threat of collapsing, but with that weakness there was something else mixed in. An unusual, but intimately familiar feeling he couldn't quite name.

Like burns being doused in cold water, something flowed into his soul, soothing its pain and shoring up that weakened foundation. It was a feeling unlike anything he'd encountered before and, in the course of mere moments, he felt every emotion he'd ever known and many he couldn't recognize or even understand. He felt strength return to his spirit, if not his body. It was not a return to what he had been before the attack, but a change into something new.

And then, the darkness grew around him, like lengthening shadows, and his mind fell away into the ocean's depths.

"Is this… wise?" Aliciel asked, crossing her arms. They stood within the hollow tree, each seated at a different table.

Tide seemed amused.

Wise? The wise thing to do, at least in this galaxy, would probably be to just kill him.

"Then why don't you?"

You know my reasons already. As much as I might want him and his brother to die...

"This is the only way?" Aliciel finished, though she didn't sound like she believed it.

No. But it is my way.

Aliciel sighed. "We are… letting him off, completely free."

Not completely. He will have to contend with his punishment.

Aliciel snorted. "I don't know if I'd call what you did to this… 'Ahsael' a punishment."

Oh?

"Its… not a reward, but I fail to see how his 'transformation' will teach him anything, let alone remorse. This seems more like a reward, in fact."

It would be a reward to some. To many, even. A second chance is a rare thing. However, while it might be something you or I would see as a fresh opportunity, for a Space Marine it will be nothing but a prison.

"Maybe for a few years, but eventually?"

He will never again wield the power he once did. For his kind, there is no greater punishment. He must relearn powerlessness and humanity. If he cannot, he will only ever see himself as a superior being.

"He is a superior being," Aliciel said. "All Astartes are."

Tide seemed more amused by that than anything else.

They are less superior than you might think and far more human than they care to admit.

"He still has a significant amount of knowledge," Aliciel pointed out. "Knowledge that can be dangerous."

All knowledge can be dangerous. The Thousand Sons know this well and it is why they believe in gathering knowledge… and hoarding it. He will not share even the least of his secrets with others, nor would I allow him to provide anything dangerous.

"And your hope is… what? That he'll become some kind of guiding figure?"

I hope he learns to help others, rather than solely himself. If the path I have laid out for him would have him become such a guide, then so be it. I only hope he has lost the arrogant belief of his own superiority before then.

"Why?"

The Emperor saw himself as a guide and I… I see myself as one too. However, I believe the main difference between myself and him is that he enforces his views upon those he teaches. I hope to let Ahsael, and all I speak with, come to their own conclusions.

"And… is that good?"

Tide was quiet for a moment.

I hope so.

Ahsael felt the change before he'd even opened his eyes. First was the fact he no longer felt the burns of his body, nor any of the other aches and pains that had been inflicted upon him. Second was that he felt weak. Weaker than even exhaustion should have rendered him, weaker than he could ever remember being. The third was that his body was… different from what it should have been, though he wasn't sure how.

His eyes blinked open and he was struck by the brightness of wherever he was, the flash of light nearly blinding him. His genehanced eyes should have given him perfect eyesight in almost any but the most extreme of light levels, but nonetheless he found the glare intolerable. He blinked and his eyes adjusted, far more slowly than what he was used to.

He was in a truly massive corridor. The walls had to be dozens of meters high, fashioned from rockrete. Somewhere on the hive world? The lights were coming from panels, similarly large. Vines, each thick as his arms, clung to the ceiling and walls, crisscrossing in strange patterns. Fruits that reminded him of the apples that originated from old Terra and were grown on countless agri-worlds grew from certain parts of the vines, though these were clearly huge, easily five or six times the size of what an apple should have been.

He was resting on some kind of cloth, perhaps a bed, though that made little sense to him. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate, trapped by its own weakness. Instead, his eyes flicked down. He could not see his body save for his nose and cheeks, yet they seemed… strange. Malformed in some way. However, what drew his attention was what stood at the foot of the cloth bed he laid upon.

A rat, with startlingly white fur and with bright, green eyes, stared at him. Like everything in this hall, it too was large, nearly the size of a mortal human he'd suspect. It wasn't doing anything, just… looking at him. The size alone, however, made Ahsael wary and he tried to call upon his sorcery. However, nothing happened save for the rat tilting its head to the side. Something about its eyes made a shiver of fear run through Ahsael, but even that felt strange in his body. What had been done to him?

Suddenly, the rat turned and bounded away, disappearing from his sight. A moment later, Ahsael heard footsteps, yet his ears must have been weakened as well somehow, because footsteps were all he heard. No breath or rustle of cloth, as his sharpened senses should have told him of. More shocking, however, was when the source of the footsteps appeared.

A mortal woman, very clearly of a similar stock as the hive-dwellers who worked the factories on Monstrum, stood over him. She had brown hair and eyes filled with pity. However, where he'd have expected her to have a thin, even gaunt and sickly frame from the malnutrition rife among hivers, she instead had a well-fed and healthy look about her. But these were not the thoughts going through his head when she came into view.

Architect, she's a giant! Ahsael thought to himself. Indeed, the woman must have easily been ten or more meters tall, easily the largest abhuman he had ever seen save.

The giant reached down, her massive hands pulling him up with shocking ease. She cradled him in her arms and indignity filled him. He opened his mouth to speak some demand to be released, but he was cut-off by the sound of an infant's wailing.

It took him a moment to realize the wailing was coming from him.

"Poor thing," The woman said, rocking him gently back and forth. "I can't believe your parents would just… leave you like this."

No, Ahsael thought with growing horror. It… Surely not? Surely it wasn't possible? Had he been… Had that monster made him into a…

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," She continued with a gentle, loving smile. Behind her head, he saw the rat clinging to the vines on the ceiling, staring down at him with an amused light in its eyes. "I'm Cory, but you can call me 'Mama'. Let's go introduce you to your new big sister, hm?"