Author's Note: For those interested, there are now eight advance chapters on P-atreon (remove the spaces and dash): p-atreon/ SkySage24.
Ahzek Ahriman's soul was poisoned.
To Isha's eyes, the curse of Tzeentch was akin to thorned vines entwined around the Space Marine's soul, black thorns dripping with violently pink venom.
It cursed Ahriman to succumb to madness, lose control over his powers, and become a raving lunatic who did not remember what he was.
She should have expected something like this. The Liesmith was a jealous, possessive creature and would not let go of something it had claimed as a toy so easily.
But there was still a way.
Isha nodded cautiously to the Witch, who was standing on the other side of the insensate Ahriman, signalling that she was ready to begin.
The Witch nodded back, and then she reached into Ahriman's soul.
Isha kept her hands on the mortal's chest, to numb the inevitable pain of such a process, but the majority of her focus was on the Witch.
The Emperor's Aspect moved with smooth skill and fluidity, but at the same time…there was a shade of uncertainty, a barely noticeable hesitance. The manipulation of the soul came instinctively to Gods of the Dead, but it was obvious neither the Emperor nor even this specific Aspect of his being was accustomed to doing so.
Nevertheless, the Witch's hands deftly picked away at the thorned vines with a metaphysical knife and scalpel, moving with speed and precision to cut them out without harming Ahriman's soul.
That was not what it would be like to be the Witch. It wasn't even what it would be like for Isha if she were attempting to break the curse herself. It was far too mundane a process to cover the complexity of trying to unravel a curse laid by a God of Chaos.
But in this case, Isha was merely an outside observer, so the curse-breaking's true nuance was invisible to her. She saw only the upper-most surface of what the Witch was seeking to do, and trying to look any deeper would have distracted her from her actual role in this process.
And her time came almost immediately, for as soon as the first cut was made, Ahriman began convulsion in pain, both body and soul writhing as the vines tightened, the thorns sinking deeper into him.
Isha soothed him as much as she could, green light spreading from her fingers to numb his pain, keeping him in a dreamless sleep and containing the Chaos corruption that was trying to spread.
And the Witch's focus on her task was unwavering, doing her best to excise the curse from Ahriman's soul.
It wasn't enough.
The vines and thorns regenerated as rapidly as they were cut away, refusing to be removed from the mortal's soul. They continued to tighten and began to burn with fell fire, deepening Ahriman's madness with each passing moment.
Isha fought it as best as she could, trying to keep the damage from spreading any further. That, at least, was successful. But containing the curse was only a stopgap measure, merely a suppression of the symptoms rather than a cure of the actual problem.
Finally, after several hours, the Witch stopped, backing away from Ahriman's soul, letting out an inarticulate noise of frustration.
Isha shared it, even as she wrapped Ahriman's soul in light, offering him whatever peace and comfort she could. Once that was done, she too backed away, raising her head to look at the Witch.
"This isn't working," The Witch said, rubbing a hand across her face. "We need to re-evaluate our approach."
"Agreed," Isha said with a sigh. But what other approach was there?
The two of them left Ahriman's cell, sitting down in the corridor outside on conjured chairs.
The Witch frowned intensely at all the cells, rubbing her chin. "Perhaps we need more data. Focusing on one Marine may not give us all the information we need."
"I examined all of them, I assure you," Isha said, faintly offended at the implication that she wouldn't be as thorough as possible when tending to her patients. "But you are welcome to do so as well,"
"I think I will," The Witch said, her dark eyes distant as she stood and strode towards a different cell, even as her mind and power spread out so she could examine everyone at once.
Isha watched her go, the momentary prickle of irritation fading away as her mind turned thoughtful.
The Witch was…interesting. Isha had never expected the Emperor to have such an Aspect, but he had surprised her.
Perhaps most disconcerting was the Witch's resemblance to Isha's own mother. A Goddess of the Dead, a mistress of magic and the shadows.
But that was only superficial. Morai-heg had been comfortable in who and what she was, certain of herself.
The Witch was…damaged. What aspect of the Emperor was she? She had avoided answering the question of whether she was the Emperor's mystic aspect, and Isha hesitated to press the subject. But it was obviously distorted from its true nature by pain and grief. She projected the supreme confidence, the arrogance, that the Emperor always did, but her heart was heavy with sorrow and regret.
Isha was unsure what to make of her, what her existence meant for the Emperor. Isha had thought she had a firm grasp on the Emperor's character, who he was and what drove him…but perhaps not.
She set aside her musings when the Witch returned, scowling fiercely as she dropped into the chair opposite Isha with an insouciance entirely unlike the Emperor.
"You were correct," The Witch said sourly. "I learned nothing useful. The curse has small differences across each of them, but nothing that we can use, nothing that would be helpful. It's just Tzeentch's usual nonsense."
"Yes," Isha said thoughtfully, turning over the problem yet again. What were they missing? "Hm. It is dangerous to them, but…one possible solution might be to cut away the infected pieces of their soul entirely. I could regrow them afterwards. They would be changed, and would likely need to be retrained, but they would survive."
The Witch's scowl shifted as she mulled it over, before shaking her head. "No, we're still focusing on the wrong part of the problem. The curse is bound to Magnus. And so are his gene-sons. As long as that spiritual link remains, the curse will simply spread forth from him into his Legion once more even if we cure them all."
"So we need to break the curse on Magnus and cure every Marine of the Fifteenth Legion," Isha realized. "But how?"
The two of them sat in silence for several moments, divine minds whirling through the possibilities.
Finally, the Witch opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, there was a bright flash of light. And then the Witch was replaced by the form of the Emperor.
Isha startled slightly. "Your Majesty?"
"I will consider the problem of Magnus," The Emperor said shortly. "But for now, I must address other matters. Keep the Fifteenth sedated and alert me if the problem worsens."
He stood and then vanished, his presence reappearing in a distant part of the palace.
Isha blinked, puzzled by the sudden abruptness. What was all that about?
But there was nothing she could do about it right now, in any case.
Her concern now was her patients. The Witch was most likely correct that simply cutting away pieces of the soul and regrowing them would not work, but at this stage, it would hardly make the matter worse.
Entering the cell of another legionary, Isha sedated him and once more began her work.
First, isolate the infection.
Then, with smooth, simple strokes, slice it away.
The infected portions of the soul came off, pulsing with foul light as they did. Isha held them for a moment before she crushed them into dust.
Now began the process of regeneration. The soul could heal by itself, and Isha merely had to ease the process along, to accelerate and strengthen it.
To her frustration, however, as the soul regenerated, Tzeentch's curse crept back in. Slowly at first, but as she rebuilt the Marine's soul, the curse returned in full force, and when she was done, it was as if nothing had happened in the first place.
Isha ended the process, backing away from the Marine. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. There was a time when this would not have been beyond her, when she could have contested Tzeentch directly for the souls of those he had cursed, and won.
But those times were long past.
Now, there was nothing she could do except wait for the Emperor to return and propose any other ideas he might have, and to ease the Fifteenth Legion's pain.
Isha returned to her seat in the corridor, leaning backwards, half her attention on keeping the Fifteenth Legion sedated as the other half of her mind wandered away.
The Witch had truly been a shock. She was a revelation astounding and intriguing in equal parts, and Isha was fascinated.
And above all the question was, what had made the Witch what she was? Why was she so twisted? What had happened to her?
Something must have happened to warp the Witch into her current state. Divine Aspects were not easily twisted or changed. It could only happen through events both great and terrible, something deeply, intensely personal.
What could it have been? It was unlikely the Emperor would tell her, and Isha wasn't going to prod at what was still a raw wound.
But she couldn't deny she was curious.
Isha sighed once again, and then forced her mind away from that line of thought as she once more sought how to deal with the Fifteenth Legion's ailment.
Perhaps if she had direct access to Magnus? But even if the boy was durable enough to withstand Tzeentch's curse, that did not mean the curse would be easily undone. Even if the Emperor permitted her to try and agreed to help, Isha seriously doubted that they could break the curse while Magnus was halfway across the galaxy. Even for Incarnates, the limitations of distance were not so easily surmounted.
If Magnus was here and she had direct access to him…perhaps. There was no guarantee, but it was possible.
And they were off to retrieve the Primarchs soon. And Magnus would likely be the easiest to locate, with his nearly blinding psychic presence. Perhaps they could place the Fifteenth Legion in stasis until they found him and could attempt to break the curse directly.
However, that was still a matter of delaying the cure by years and being unable to help Isha's patients right now. Yet, it seemed the only path other than euthanizing the Fifteenth outright.
And that aside, there were other worries. Once Isha and the Emperor left Sol, what was to become of Iyanden? Isha did not think they should stay in Alpha Centauri, so close to the Imperium without Isha to run interference.
But then Iyanden would most likely want to follow her along. They were…clingy, as children tended to be after not having their parents with them for too long. And if Isha was honest, she didn't want to let go of the one group of her children that were finally within reach either.
As always, however, the Emperor loomed large over them. The odds of him wanting to take a Craftworld along on his journey to locate his children were utterly laughable. He would never agree to such a thing. Not to mention that the Emperor's ship and the Craftworld could not travel alongside each other in any case. Imperial vessels moved through the Warp, while the Craftworld would have to go through the Webway.
So where could Isha send Iyanden that they would be willing to go? Where they would be safe, where she could find them again?
If only she knew. But in this new age of darkness, Isha feared there was nowhere in the galaxy that was truly safe.