Embers of a Dead Past

By author StrenousActivity

Haqqan

The sound of the gas cooker fuelling its prometheum flame was the only thing Cyrus could hear in between Haqqan's chewing.

His brother was gnawing on a roasted leg, a meaty, blueish purple, stringy thing run through by a metal skewer. It belonged to a general of the xenos army whose spirit they had broken just a day earlier.

Haqqan turned to face Cyrus and waved an extra leg his way, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Despite Cyrus's misgivings, the Primarch of the Rust Spiders found himself accepting it and taking a hearty bite.

It was incredibly juicy, salty and sweet, with a light hint of spice. Cyrus had to take a smaller chunk to keep it from dribbling down his chin.

Suddenly, the flame sputtered, sparks flying off the cooker in a display of shoddy make, and it went out. Haqqan hissed under his breath and fiddled with one of the gas knobs for a moment.

The pirate captain scoffed.

"That's what I get for stealing from the auxilia camps. Should've had Trah bring a field kitchen from the Bosom." He sneered and smacked the appliance on its side.

"Don't worry. I can fix it." Cyrus stood up and pulled the food station back upright. Using a dataslate mag-locked to his hip, he made a quick read up on the parts inside the Wasteless Cuirass.

After singling out what he needed, Cyrus unceremoniously plunged his hand inside and ripped them out. Mechadendrites slithered out of his armour's backpack, giving him finer motor control for his new project.

"Eager to get some white noise back, Brother?"

"I've always been more at home with machines than the quiet," Cyrus said, taking out a burnt wire and sliding in a replacement, he made an experimental twist of the knob to no avail.

"But what if there was more to listen to besides the whirring of your little drills and multitools? Like out here?" Haqqan gestured to the vast forest they made camp within.

"You are the hunter between us, Haqqan. On that end, I defer to you."

His brother nodded, sidling up behind Cyrus and peering over his shoulder while he worked.

"Yes, yes, but what if I wasn't there?" Haqqan began circling around his fellow Primarch.

"What if you were so occupied with your workshopping and home projects, that you don't hear your door open, don't see the beast slink out of the forest…"

Cyrus attached a new prometheum vent with an audible click and tried again.

"What if, do tell, it bypasses what little safeguards you put in place?"

Haqqan wrapped an arm around Cyrus's shoulders while he changed the electric sparker.

"And you never knew you were in danger until its claws were around your throat?"

Cyrus twisted the knob one more time, and the stoves lit up.

He turned to face his brother, not really impressed by his flair of dramatics. "Then I'd count myself a fool."

Haqqan chuckled, hearty and cruel.

"Wise words. You'd better be careful, Brother, else someday you'll count yourself a fool a dozen times over."

Jiun Xiao

Something clattered on the table with a metallic thud, missing Jiun's propped up feet by inches.

Jiun opened an eye, one eye, just to see who had decided to barge into this room, and saw Cyrus standing above her with a smile on his face.

"I would ask if you're here to complain about something I did that upset you."

She smirked knowingly. "After which I would ask you to be specific, but then again, little brother, you're too… you to ever be that confrontational."

"Of course. Nothing of that sort, I promise, and I'll be very sorry if you take it that way."

Jiun rolled her eyes. "How courteous of you…"

She sat up and took a good look at the thing Cyrus put on her table.

It was a boltgun, of a sort. What kind was hard to tell, but that made this present all the more interesting. The carrion birds of the IX Legion always ended up making odd curios in their bid to be more frugal than the most humble of Xiuttilangi ascetics.

She picked it up and aimed it around with one hand, judging each little detail she could see with an interrogative gaze.

"What is this, Cyrus?"

"A gift. I saw you needed a new sidearm after you lost your plasma pistol and I thought you'd like this."

"And what a charitable little brother you are," she drawled, the boy beaming in return.

Jiun cackled inside. Surely Cyrus was not so naïve to not hear her sarcasm. But that did not matter at the moment.

"So what does it actually do?"

Cyrus's eyes lit up and he quickly rattled off a list of features installed in the Grand Entrance, and Jiun had to admit, the amount of killing potential her brother stuffed into this little weapon was impressive.

"And that's not the best part." Cyrus did a little gesture at the gun.

"Oh?"

"There's an activation rune on the side. Try it!"

Probably some kind of secret melta attachment, but she would humour him.

Suddenly, a loud set of whirs and clicks sounded out and the gun extended out into a full rifle, as long as one of Jiun's own arms, the barrel ending at a wicked bayonet point.

"I know I said sidearm, but I realised halfway through that you would want something with more shock value."

The Demon Queen of Xiuttilang nodded as ideas for how she would use this piece started to filter in.

"Grand Entrance indeed…" Jiun grinned, then looked back at Cyrus. "Will I have to give this back to you whenever a spring comes loose or will it just explode?"

Cyrus shook his head, dismissing the jab with a laugh.

"Of course not." He revealed a small dataslate built into the rifle form and showed it to Jiun. "I have detailed instructions for you or whoever you assign to maintain it. And I made one of the sections as simplistic as possible in the event someone not of our knowledge was forced to fix it."

She scanned the contents thoroughly, nodding her head as she took it all in.

"My husband will never capitulate to you!" the shrill little bitch queen squealed. To her credit, she barely flinched with the Entrance's pistol mode pressed up against her temple. But one of Jiun's favourite pastimes was humbling prissy noble twats like this one, and she would get it done eventually.

Cyrus sighed, a grim frown settling on his youthful face.

"For your sake? No, he won't, and as much as I hate to say it, we'll need to give him a very good reason to do so."

"And a good reason you will have, Brother!" Jiun grinned in anticipation.

Their pilot killed the engines of their shuttle and peeked her head into the holding bay.

"We're here!" said the Scourge Astartes. "Give 'em hell!"

And with that, the back slid open into a ramp leading back onto solid ground.

"Do your worst, invading scum!" the yipping monarch jeered. "We are a proud people and my king will die before he surrenders!"

Cyrus eyed her with an unreadable expression.

The three of them, well, two really, what with the queen being held up by the scruff of her dress.

The two Primarchs and their prisoner stopped outside the great energy dome surrounding the capital city of their newest foe.

A large drone flew in, its deep blue optic casting a baleful gaze on them.

Jiun raised the queen high in one hand, placing her in an undignified but very noticeable state, with the Grand Entrance digging into the back of her head.

The crackling noise of the drone's vox-caster activating was distorted by the forcefield.

"You have great nerve bringing my wife so close to our seat of power. Tell me, invaders, what safeguards do you have in place that will save you from your destruction?"

"Oh, that's simple." Jiun smirked, wide and catlike. "None."

"Your hubris disgusts me."

"There is no hubris here, your Grace." Cyrus smiled nervously, stepping in between the machine and Jiun Xiao, but his lacking height did not block her vision.

"Please. Think of the battles you have already lost, the great and terrible might our armies bear that has placed all your old empire under heel. Surely your pride must tell you and your people to surrender with dignity in the face of this all. Yes?"

"You underestimate us," the king growled.

Jiun rolled her eyes. "I think our estimates are close enough."

She squeezed the Entrance's extension rune and brought it to full length. The bayonet ran through the queen's skull with a crunching squelch.

Jiun grinned, she lifted her new gory banner up high and slammed the queen's body against the forcefield, smearing the sky-blue shield with her blood and brain matter.

The king's drone could barely withstand his wordless cry of rage, and the entire defence system fell. Bright lights shot out from the distant city, and the sky behind them roared with the sound of distant armies.

Cyrus grimaced in disgust and shame.

"If you gave me more time, he would have surrendered."

"I know that just fine," Jiun shrugged, letting stray viscera drip down onto her armour. "But it isn't half as fun for me, and I and my girls have no excuse to plunder anymore!"

"And I'd rather not lose anything important, but you're the leader of this operation, I should not have thought it'd end any other way."

"Good to see you don't bother peddling any moralising diatribes with me. This must be very hard for you."

"I save those for the ones who listen."

"As you should."

Ozymandias

Cyrus sprinted like a madman, the sounds of the Ork WAAAAGH! drawing closer and closer as he neared his brother's position.

He dove under the buzzsaw of a Killa Kan. He whipped Spitter out behind him and shredded the machine apart.

The surviving grot pilot threw itself on Cyrus's vambrace, gnawing on his arm ineffectually. Cyrus grimaced at the grot in disgust and slammed it against the remnants of a wall, splattering green and red slime on the ferrocrete.

An Ork came screaming at him, Cyrus caught its chainsword with his own blade, pushed it forward, and promptly sliced it in half.

Ahead was a scene right out of a glorious fresco laid into the walls of the Imperial Palace, Ozymandias lay wounded above a mountain of dead Orks and Astartes, the banner of the Thunder Warriors buried all the way through his midsection.

"Brother!"

Ozymandias frowned.

"You are out of position," he hissed gravelly, hacking up a glob of blood.

"And you're about to die," Cyrus growled back.

"This offensive hinges on you leading the flank. I will live without your support."

"And it will definitely fail if you are not leading either! And guarantee nothing!"

Cyrus took stock of the crackling, sparking hole in his brother's armour, figuring out just what he would need to get it back into working order.

"When did it start to fail you?"

"Only recently."

Thinking quickly, Cyrus pulled off the banner embedded in his brother then plunged his hand into the depths of the Wasteless Cuirass, ripping out parts that had been made redundant in his armour at some point, but were still vital for Ozymandias's own.

Ozymandias looked at Cyrus, then eyed the long wiry chain of technology dangling out of his hands quizzically.

"Look, Brother, even I forget what I have put in this, but I know for sure what I have now will save you, at least for now. I'm no good at playing Apothecary, but I can at least fix your suit."

And he did, as fast as he could while running, Cyrus passed his bolt pistol off to his elder brother, who busied himself taking potshots at the Greenskins chasing them while Cyrus worked.

"Systems are coming back online," said Ozymandias, the voice in his helmet taking on a more distinct vox-enhanced crackle.

"Good! Can you stand?" Cyrus whipped his eyes around at the encroaching Orks, and twin-linked volkite blasters emerged from his back.

Slowly, painfully, the Eldest of the Primarchs stood to his full height.

Cyrus let out a sigh of relief.

"Then we fight!" Cyrus smacked his chestplate, and a light came on.

A bright flash blinded the Orkish advance, and a whole squad of Rust Spider Terminators appeared, forming a perimeter around the two demigods.

Aurora

"Overwhelming, isn't it?"

The bright shine in his eyes had been dulled, the joy and love within chipped away by a thousand thousand battles.

The voice broke Cyrus from his reverie, the rest of the world had faded away while he was busy ogling the Terran skyline from one of the many balconies in the Imperial Palace.

A wall of rusted iron, green miasma wafting out of the gaps in the horrible, mismatched mix of armour, a kindly revenant of stagnance and decay.

He turned to face his sister, a sheepish grin forming on his face.

A blank stare gazing off into the void, hope and compassion molded into iron will and suicidal determination by the anvil of pure hardship.

"Is it really that obvious?"

The same youthful joy had remained, but now laid low by trust built on lies and a grinning maw that now dripped with the blood of nascent divinity.

"No." Aurora smiled warmly. "Terra just has that effect on newcomers. May I sit with you?"

Glory, glistening silver armour, a proud but humoured grin, fantastical machines unlike any ever seen before, all leading the way to a future so bright that it was blinding.

"Be my guest." Cyrus shuffled to the other side of the bench, leaving ample space that Aurora filled.

War, terrible and great, born from betrayal on a scale so unthinkable that the only image was his face, twisted in a scream of terror and shock.

"This place is big, bigger than anything I have ever seen before, and the aide our father attached to me said the Palace was built into a mountain range! Is that true?"

A great number of them stood at the foot of a great mountain, fighting tooth and nail for victory, all honour gone, all dignity stripped away, every pretense reduced to rubble, replaced by the basest instincts that even the greatest man to ever exist could not wholly suppress, all who still lived were little more than beasts now if one watched how they fought, all, except for one.

"Well, it is not simply a mountain range, brother. It is the mountain range. The Himalazian Mountains are the largest on Terra."

"Fascinating…" Cyrus whispered. "Did it impress you too?"

"Of course. I would be lying if I said it didn't. Sheol IX was not the most opulent of places."

Eyes blinded by tears that burned her, inching down a scarred face as her hopes and dreams burned around her, the ache in her chest had grown too great to fight, and it drove her to her knees.

But then she felt something, a hand on her shoulder pulling her to her feet, then a voice, young and desperate, urging her to fight on.

And despite everything that had already come to pass, she found herself standing once more.

"Neither was Tuile."

"And you will adjust to it in due time. Believe me, our routines here will make watching Terra a bore."

Cyrus was tempted to argue, but he chose to keep his mouth shut. He had only just arrived after all.

"I understand." Another question soon came to mind. "When will my Legion arrive?"

"Soon. If the Warp is kind to them, their translation into the Sol system will happen in about two days."

"Is there anything I need to say? Will I need something prepared beforehand?"

Aurora shook her head. "It's customary, but not expected of you. The blood of the greatest man to ever live runs through your veins. Whatever comes naturally will be more than enough."

"Thank you—" Cyrus's wristband buzzed.

"Oh. The Palace calls."

"Then we will answer. Come, Brother!" Aurora got to her feet, pulling Cyrus along with her.

Warriors, machinists, soldiers, brothers, armed with weapons of slapdash yet ingenious make, dressed in armour sets that were being maintained far beyond their prescribed lifespan. But all carried dignity to themselves. All of them were heroes in their own right.

At their head stood another, whose height did not tower above them, allowing him to fight by their side as a true equal. His armour was a dizzying array of many things, a mosaic of unfamiliar parts working in unity to form something incredible. His helmet was missing, so she could see the small smile and kind eyes that would see so much horror yet still shone with the same light that he was born with.

When that final vision came unbidden to Aurora's mind right before she rose from her slumber, she gave herself one moment to dare think that, between all the crowings of a distant, terrible future, this curse of foresight had given her one pleasant dream.