"Stories abound in times ancient, eons in the past. Stories of those who dared to chain the very heavens, all of which have failed. It is usually some combination of their hubris, their incompetence, or their greed that damns them to self destruction. Similarly I see the same rot within the Imperium, the Xenos filth, and those who sell themselves to the warp and all its foul influence. Weakness will always doom those who reach above their station, but what if a will of steel was to go where inferiors never could?"
From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36
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The guts of a ship as large as Praeco Voltaic were an odd thing, most of the ship was known to the priests, all of it was mapped. But used? That was a different story, she was no Ark Mechanicum but it was a capital ship of endless years. Discovered on a planet far from Imperium space and repaired within the depths of a mighty forge world, the ship had been given to the now missing Archmagos Ghetaldi. It was a ship so large even the most decorated jungle explorers of Catachan would get lost in the span of a few hours trying to navigate it without some level of assistance.
That was part of why Quill was so baffled that they had yet to find a single Dark Mechanicum intruder as they stalked the halls. He, along with the team of Sicarians just out of sight, had maneuvered through the ship's underbelly on a hunt for heretek scum to eradicate. All they found were abandoned rooms, layers of dust and stale air that offended what remained of his olfactory senses, and machinery that had gone unnoticed by the reclamation squads. Curiously, he found artifacts of antiquity here, scrap aged to the heresy and trinkets from the Great Crusade.
Quill's understanding was that the ship was returned to its former glory within the last two-thousand years and while there were no automata or knight class siege engines the presence of these baubles made him wonder. Battista had never shared such a collection with him, nor had he shown Quill any indication he knew how to forge such things. He set down a glowing orb that hummed with a soft blue energy and continued on his way down the darkened hallways. The Sicarians were nearly silent in their approach, The Null Set was the finest set of assassins and hunters he could have called upon but there was a flaw in their methods.
Quill had assumed these traitors had only recently boarded the ship, so he further assumed they would find themselves lost without any knowledge of Praeco Volcatic's layout. They had plotted a course through the lower decks that would all but mathematically guarantee they encountered a confused and tired group of desperate survivors. To be evaded so expertly was evidence that they were only circling an equally adept group of hunters.
"We need to widen our search radius. Princeps Unit, report."
On command, Xor dropped from an unseen hiding place and stood before Quill awaiting directives.
"Extend the search area by three times our current amount, upload search procedures but delay kill orders. We must maintain the element of surprise if we are to succeed in purging our blessed vessel."
Xor chittered an acknowledgement and the twos' servo skulls uploaded the alterations to the other Ruststalkers while Quill sent new orders to his small group of Kataphrons. The group dispersed into the ship's shaded depths. Like spiders maneuvering their massive web and rolling tanks of melded flesh and metal. Quill continued on his way, confident in his ability to fend off anyone long enough for the Null Set and his Battle Servitors to converge on his location. In truth, he was thinking about what to do. Magos Ceth was busy, and his datastream was focused planetside so he was inaccessible to a certain degree.
He'd caught some data threads about Magos Van'thauss falling ill, and while he did believe in coincidences he was always cautious around them. Coincidences meant mathematical improbabilities. Pythagoras was acting odd, well, more odd than normal for the diminutive cretin. He needed to convene with the relic, and doing so with spectators was dangerous. Even the servitors with him could house the mind and vision of another priest, possibly Pythagoras. Someone Quill didn't fully trust at that moment, the only way to safely commune and plan was in complete isolation.
"Great spirit? Are you with me?"
"I am. Magos."
"I am surrounded by questions, and I worry I am outmaneuvered. I am in desperate need of your holy guidance." There was a beat of silence apart from the metal clinking of Quill's steel legs, the spirit within the relic said nothing for a while. "Spirit? Have you no guidance for me?"
"They are near, Magos. Within a chamber nearby, let me take you there. Let go."
Quill paused, he got a sense of where he was supposed to go but he also felt a tug at his mind. He'd felt it before, whenever the spirit communed with him or advised him. Though this time it felt stronger, like the spirit was trying to dominate his will. He rejected it, shaking his head rapidly.
"That will not be necessary, blessed one. I will take us there." Quill felt a distinct sense of irritation in the area. Not Noospherically, nor through the datastream. He cautiously approached a large temple door, he could see nothing within. As he had before, he sent a command to the Servohound at his side. The machine loped inside, sending all clear codes back to Quill. So he joined them inside, the room was a large empty thing. Its purpose was unknowable without further analysis, but such analysis would be impossible.
Standing within the chamber was a figure, cloaked in cog trim robes of jet black. The trim was a dark crimson, and the figure was adorned with numerous augmetics. Coiled mechadendrites equipped with blades on the end, legs fixed with hydraulic boosters that would grant inhuman bursts of speed, and weaponry affixed to servo arms. They held no weapon, not one that Quill could see, though one of their hands was replaced with a chordclaw.
Quill didn't waste time with words, he instead sent urgent machine code to the Null Set. He immediately gripped his head as a sharp pain tore through his neural uplink. He glanced around suddenly, and saw the curtains of data and clouds of the Noosphere were gone from his vision. Were his heart rate not mandated by numerous augmetics, it may have skipped a beat out of fear. Not due to the heretek before him, but because he hadn't been cut off from the blessed Noosphere since his reawakening.
Quill brought his axe up , "Identify yourself, then shut off whatever jamming device you have hidden here. Or I will gladly destroy you, traitor." Behind his hood and optics, Quill was looking everywhere for the jammer. Without it, no signals would leave this room. Including his instructions to the Null Set, they would likely find this room eventually but that would be far too late if Quill was bested by the intruder. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't find it. Any further searching was interrupted as the stranger lunged forward with a distinct high pitched hydraulic hiss. Tendrils of linked steel lashed out, Quill's own acted before his mind processed he was being attacked. The mechadendrites coiled around each other, struggling to reach their respective hosts.
Quill's Volkite Blaster spun up and loosed a shot towards their gut, but a quick strike from a previously hidden servo arm sent it aside harmlessly. Quill's bladed legs stabbed down trying to cut into their legs and limit their movement, the Heretek leapt up with another push of his hydraulics. Their Mechadendrites pulled taut, forcing Quill onto the ground on his back. A secutor blade shot from the stranger's wrist and stabbed down, glancing harmlessly off Quill's armor.
They reared back and prepared to lash out once more, this time with their chordclaw, a weapon that would cut through any armor Quill had. A Servohound slammed into the attacker, steel jaws slamming down onto their arm with a spray of sparks. The attacker was wrenched to the ground with a metal crash, Quill quickly got to his legs and charged forward with his axe in hand. The head charged with power and the teeth slammed down into one of their metal arms. Severing it with another shower of sparks and oil.
"You have lost, traitor!" Quill shouted, "Surrender! I will make your demise quick." Instead of responding, surrendering, or even moving the Heretek made a hand motion. An antiquated way of sending machine commands, then he saw it. An old style of Servo-skull, looking at it made his vision distort and glitch out horribly. Causing him to recoil in pain. That Skull was the jammer, and he had to destroy it.
He was interrupted again by the sound of GR-37Δ being wrenched off this intruder and thrown aside with strength that could only come from advanced augmetics. The one armed Heretek still had his chordclaw, that alone made him dangerous. The swarm of Mechadendrites only exaggerated the danger. Their Chordclaw erupted with green energy, and they lunged forward towards GR-37Δ. Quill's Volkite Blaster drew faster than humanly possible, aiming calculations were performed just as quickly, and the shot landed on the claw. Knocking them aside briefly, but it was enough for a quick machine command to call the Cyberhound back to his side.
The Heretek lashed out in pursuit, barely missing Quill's faceplate by millimeters. All at once, Quill's mechadendrites shot forwards suddenly. Numerous sharpened tools stabbed into the Heretek, some met flesh but most punched through metal. Shoving the Heretek back into a wall. Blood and oil pooled at their feet, while a Mechadendrite coiled around the Chordclaw's wrist and held it safely aside.
"I can see I will have to execute you here and now." The Heretek's face was obscured by the darkness of the room and the size of their hood. Their face was completely replaced, instead it was four green lenses and a rebreather with a swarm of tubes running from it to an unseen location within their robes. Surprisingly, they laughed. It was a raspy, strained expression that released a hiss of an unknown gas from their rebreather.
"I fail to see the humor in this situation, once I destroy your jammer my Sicarians and I will hunt down any more rats scurrying around here."
"I don't think so, Magos. I believe you'll be coming with us." The Heretek finally said.
"Us?"
As if in response to his question, another robed figure emerged from the shadows. Along with a glowing green Arc Rifle. A Skitarius stared at Quill, and loosed a shot of pure electricity into the Tech-priest. Quill stumbled back, spasming while his augmetics glitched and shorted out. He fell to the ground as another shot of electricity coursed across his body, he barely had enough time to override his Cyberhound's bodyguard protocols and replace them with emergency retreat orders.
Another Heretek Skitarius emerged from the shadows with a second Arc Rifle; they were about to pursue the Cyberhound when the Secutor held up their hand. An order silently passed between the two, pulling the Skitarii back to the Secutor's side.
"It will be able to hail the Sicarians. We must retreat, we have both of our targets. The Archmagos has determined we will fulfill our objectives and nothing else. Protocols dictate our immediate withdrawal." The Skitarii saluted, and grabbed Quill. All the while their forms distorted as a teleportation node locked onto their positions.
Acknowledgement blips crossed the encoded Alpha Legion vox network, each one signifying a small squad had cleared their section of Obsidian Whisper. The ship was entirely theirs, there was no one left to resist them. A quick sweep from the cultists, agents, and Vaelith confirmed that much. Elatus couldn't help but be worried, the crew they fought was significantly smaller than he recalled aboard this ship. Were they dealing with Militarum or their loyalist brethren it would be easy to wave a hand and assume they'd simply left the ship lightly attended. Cog Worshippers didn't operate like that, to leave a ship like this unguarded would be like the Sororitas abandoning a holy site.
"You seem anxious, brother." Telemateus said as he snapped a dataslate in half, having just finished siphoning all its data to their own ship. "Do you suspect another ploy surrounds us?"
Elatus sighed, "I have suspected that since we landed. Not that we are left with much choice, unless we finish our mission here we are blind and know nothing of our situation. If we leave we have to guess where in the void the rest of the warband is. I don't care for our odds of success in that case."
The sorcerer directed a group of the humans with them to finish with the last few dataslates, "I agree, this has all been far too easy. Though I have managed to find some scraps of information, I have yet to get the chance to pour it over and make any use of it though."
"Have you heard anything from Deception's Venom about whether or not there are loyal Dark Mechanicum left?" Elatus asked with a poorly hidden hint of anger in his tone, the Dark Mechanicum had been nothing but a thorn in his side the past few days.
Telemateus nodded, "I have, there are a couple Magi and some serfs left. It hardly counts as a crew, but they will be able to keep the ship void worthy, with any luck they will be able to get this ship running as well." Elatus was about to respond, when the lights on the ship all cut out at the same time. Visual input from the Astartes' helmets gave way to their superior night vision, which allowed Elatus to see the confusion from the baseline humans.
"I don't like that, too many times we've assumed coincidence where there was malice." Elatus said while exiting, "Call back the others, be ready to leave for a less tenuous holdout position at any given moment." Telemateus saluted and began sending vox communications across the warband. Meanwhile, Elatus walked out into the darkened hallways. He pulled out both of his chainswords, they revved briefly then idled with an occasional burst of black exhaust. He purposely neglected to say it to Telemateus, but he suspected they would see more resistance sooner than the others believed.
He would meet this threat head on, the enemy expected the element of surprise? The Chaos Lord would prove such expectations foolish. He heard footsteps approaching, metal, heavy footsteps. Heavier than that of Skitarii, heavier than even the dead eyed Servitors. For now, he only identified one set, and they were coming close. Elatus exhaled slowly, quietly. His hearts beat steadily as he prepared to attack whatever was coming. Then, he leapt around the corner.
He swung down immediately, his first chainsword was met with the end of an archaic gun that revved in the same way his sword did. Sparks erupted into the air, briefly illuminating the corridor before it was once more bathed in darkness. Elatus took a fraction of a second to identify his enemy, and failed miserably. He had no idea what he was looking at, some sort of well armored automaton wielding a long gun with a roaring chain blade at the end. Elatus kicked the machine in the torso. It fell back, jet thrusters on its back roared to life with pure burning white flame.
The machine's armored form slammed into Elatus, Ceramite held up well against steel for now but the weight of the automaton would prove dangerous if Elatus didn't disengage. The Chaos Lord grabbed the machine, forced them both to a stop, and slammed it into the ground. It thrashed around with a metal hand or its revving chain bayonet. A bolt of searing blue lightning tore from the barrel of its gun, striking Elatus in the pauldron.
He was forced back, which gave the Thallax enough time to get back up onto its four toed feet. It hefted its lightning gun again, and took aim. Elatus had mere moments to come up with a plan. Glancing aside, he saw a pipe releasing small jets of steam barely visible even with his naturally enhanced night vision. He presumed, given their earlier engagement, that these things would use thermal vision. Giving them a distinct advantage in the dark.
Elatus slashed at the pipe with his chainblade as the lightning gun fired, he dove to the ground just in time as the corridor was filled with burning hot steam. More shots of lightning ripped the cloud apart but all of them went wide, Elatus grinned under his helmet. His chameleonic cloak reengaged, he knew it was useless to hide him visually but he cared far more about the sound muffling it provided. With his cover secured, Elatus slipped into a side corridor.
The Thallax broke through the cloud of steam, looking around but not seeing the Astartes. It was certain a target that large couldn't have slipped past the way it came from. He had to have run off. It stomped forwards, seeing no abnormal heat signatures. It's visual feed distorted, but only for a moment. Shortly afterwards, it saw absolutely nothing. Elatus' chainsword ripped at its neck joint, metal was rent asunder before Elatus grabbed at its head. With one strong pull, it came apart with a metal screech. Elatus looked at the head piece, turned it around, and was mildly reviled to see bits of human brain within.
"By the Primarchs… Damned crazy Cog Worshippers."
He was interrupted when another bolt of lightning struck him in the back. He was knocked to the ground, as three more Thallax filtered into the hallway. Elatus snarled, pulling out his heavy bolt pistol and firing the entire magazine into the trio. It bought him enough time to stand but not enough to advance any.
"How many of you depraved monsters are there?!"
His vox buzzed briefly, before Medon's voice broke through the sounds of the attacking Thallax.
"Brother! Tech-thralls have broken through the hull in this quadrant! They're spilling into the lower decks!"
The sound of las-fire accompanied the Master of Executions' panic. Elatus could hear the sounds of destroyed flesh, crushed metal, and occasionally the agonized groans of the thralls as they got close.
"It's too much! We have to fall back!"
"Regroup with us, we need to get back to the shuttles and return to our own ship. We'll be able to safely plan there! I will see if Telemateus can send Vaelith."
"For once, I will spare my complaints about working with that which is of Slaanesh. Good hunting, brother."
"Hydra Dominatus, stay alive." Elatus' vox clicked off, fortunately for him he'd managed to take cover within the side corridor he hid in earlier. Unfortunately, the Thallax were advancing. He could run down the corridor and try to break line of sight, or he could stand and fight. If he picked one off quickly, he felt confident he could kill two on his own. That confidence faded quickly with a soft quiet metal clink. His eyes shot sideways, and he saw a small metal sphere. He didn't need Telemateus here to know that it was some type of grenade, he swore under his breath and broke down the corridor moments before it exploded.
The ship rocked, burning fire and breakneck winds shoved Elatus further down the hallway and onto his front. Sparks flooded the area, fires had broken out on most of the control panels and external machines. The hallway was a ruined mess, but his armor was holding strong. He'd had the good judgement to ensure its energy field was charged during the brief quiet they had after subduing the ship's defenders. Still, it wasn't going to last him forever and those Thallax were coming. No doubt to confirm their kill. Elatus quickly reengaged his chameleonic field, hoping that the air around him was sufficiently hot to hide him.
The three filtered into the destroyed hall, looking around in an uncannily human way. They stepped forwards, slowly checking every possible hiding place. Elatus realized they were depending on visual feeds, as one of them activated a searchlight mounted on their shoulder as they checked a darkened corner. His assumption was right, their grenade had made thermal much less accurate. He could use that.
Eventually, one of the Thallax stepped forward and instead of their foot hitting flooring it hit a cylindrical piece of ceramite. The Thallax's head shot down at Elatus, his field dropped revealing a heavy bolt pistol leveled at their head. The shot obliterated the faceplate and anything behind it. Blood, brains, and metal sprayed backwards onto the ceiling. Elatus was up in less than a moment, charging forwards. He grabbed a Thallax before it could react, spinning it to his front just in time for it to block a lightning bolt for him. The Thallax being used as a body shield spasmed and fell backwards. Elatus put a bolt through the lightning gun's power coil.
He expected it to backfire like modern arc weapons or a plasma rifle would, but it simply sputtered spare energy and died. The chain bayonet, however, was as alive as ever. The Thallax raised the bayonet high, its jet thrusters came alive and it shot forwards like a large red bullet. Elatus sidestepped, and took his chance to flatten the head of the Thallax on the ground with his boot. He found the crunch of metal mixed with the sound of a crushed brain an unnerving combination.
He turned, and replaced his bolt pistol with his second chainsword. There, at the end of the hallway the final Thallax stood there. It revved its chain bayonet, Elatus revved his chainswords as a challenge. The Thallax made a metal shriek that may have been language, and charged forwards again. Elatus waited, not raising his chainswords, not pulling his pistol, not even moving.
"Wait…" Elatus said under his breath. The sound of a screaming thruster bounced off the metal walls as it approached at alarming speed.
"Closer you metal abomination…"
The Thallax pulled its damaged weapon back, prepared to break through Elatus' ceramite and tear his flesh apart. Then, Elatus slammed his boot down as hard as he could. A damaged coupling in the floor gave, the damaged flooring pivoted up into the Thallax's path. The machine slammed into the sharp edges of the sudden obstacle, and the force changed its trajectory upwards. It slammed into the ceiling and bounced, now moving straight down into Elatus' waiting chainswords.
The blades connected and acted like scissors full of gnashing teeth. A binharic scream escaped the thing, as its lower half was separated with a shower of oil, coolant, and blood. Elatus lifted up the torso and bisected it from bottom to top. The final attacker was destroyed and left in three pieces.
"Telemateus, the second wave of opposition is upon us. Prepare emergency defenses and get us a way out of here." Elatus was met with no acknowledgement blips, just idle static.
"Telemateus, respond."
Still, nothing. He tried hailing Scylia instead, "Scylia, pull back your cultists and return to the-" He heard the same static, something was wrong. He holstered one of his chainswords and began to sprint back to the comms center just as another, more distant, explosion rocked the ship. He picked up speed, knowing that more explosions meant more of these automata were attacking.
On his way back, Elatus stopped at a body. It was horribly burned by electricity, and torn apart by chain blades. He saw another body, then two more, all left in the same state. Killed then moved past, their attackers took no joy nor pleasure in the kill. They were not hunters, there was nothing human left in them. They were simply machines, given a task that would be fulfilled in the most efficient way possible. What was that task, though?
He paused by a dead Astartes, his ceramite was badly beaten. Eventually falling to the Thallaxs' overwhelming firepower, Elatus figured no less than five of them had come this way. This legionnaire had been caught off guard, judging by the oldest damage being in his back. He sighed as he looked up and saw four more Astartes bodies, it was times like this he wished they still had an apothecary. Telemateus would have to try to recover their bodies seeing as they lacked the equipment to harvest geneseed with them.
He rounded the last corner and saw the doors to the comms center were completely destroyed, similar to the corridor it had been breached by a high yield explosive. Then bashed in with the Thallax bodies acting as battering rams. The distinct metallic smell of fresh blood filled Elatus' nostrils, which made him increase his pace.
Inside, he saw nothing but wreckage. The humans were slaughtered, the dataslates were smashed, the transfer terminal was burned and cut into bits.
"Telemateus!" Elatus shouted into the darkness. Fires flickered providing minimal amounts of light, casting shifting shadows over the mangled dead bodies of the human agents and cultists. The signs of a battle were completely absent, only one side of the room was scored with weapon damage. This was no fight, this was a slaughter. There was, however, a source of light towards the back of the chamber. A hole blown open by more explosives, the edges of the metal were still glowing orange with heat.
Natural light from the planet's ancient red sun filtered in, illuminating the back where signs of battle did go both ways. Elatus groaned, and pulled a knife from a boot sheath. Slowly, hesitantly even, he approached one of the bodies. He hated this part, but he needed to get a full idea of what happened here and his Omophagea would help with that. Still, he never really adjusted to the idea of eating the brains of the dead. He was about to slice the skull of one of the agents open, when his vox blipped.
"Lord Elatus!" It was Scylia, and based on the strained breathing she was sprinting. Or had been for a while. "We were attacked! They killed everyone but me. I need backup!"
"What is your location? Medon and I will reroute there." Elatus should have been more worried, but he was more focused on finding Telemateus than Scylia. Pragmatism took precedent, though he valued his battle brothers over their cultists; an experienced Psyker would likely make finding Telemateus easier.
"We were in the lower decks, checking on the engine to see if the ship was seaworthy. There was a group of strange machines waiting for us in ambush. They're still her-" Elatus heard the sounds of booming jet thrusters and revving chain bayonets, a sound that he was growing to hate. Then, Scylia's vox cut back to static. Elatus cursed through clenched teeth, dropped the cultist he had been holding, and stalked off back into the corridors of the ship.
"Medon," He said through their encoded frequency, "Telemateus and Scylia's groups have been compromised. They're either dead, missing, or captured. Regroup with me at the data vault. We will escape through there."
"Acknowledged, brother. We have managed to break from the battle and are heading your way. The Thralls will not be far behind, prepare to move quickly. We will find them." Elatus appreciated how blunt Medon was sometimes, some would confuse it for vain hope but Medon was genuine. His beliefs were simple, straightforward. Much like his tactics in battle. Elatus heard no more metal footsteps, no more sounds of battle, the ship was quiet aside from the cracking fires.
The calm after a battle was another thing that Elatus disliked. War he understood, battles he could read easily, the moments right after a battle were the worst. Tension hung thick in the air, around every corner there could be another war machine or mechanized assassin prepared to cut at his throat. It didn't make him nervous, he wasn't sure he could feel nervous, but it put him on edge.
Through the silence, he heard something. A faint beeping, it was close but not in the ceiling, not in the walls it was coming from somewhere. He looked down, and lowered himself to the floor. The beeping was rhythmic and consistent. He knew it from somewhere, he just didn't know where. He thought back, until he realized something. He realized it too late though, across the ship the beeping sped up.
Obsidian Whisper had been deemed by the lord of this world as an acceptable loss, it was infested with those who could pose a problem. A potential danger to plans, who would now be expunged. Elatus shot up and broke into a sprint towards the back of the ship, back the way he came.
"Medon!" Elatus shouted through the vox net, "Abandon the rendezvous plans! The ship is rigged to explode!"
"I realized that moments ago, we're making for a damaged section of hull. I believe we'll make it, quit talking to me and move!" Sound advice, Elatus heard the beeping become a shrill high pitched ringing. Right as he broke through the hole in the comms center the ship began to explode. One by one the Meltabombs detonated, sending immense heat and molten slag everywhere, Elatus had to keep sprinting to get clear of the explosion. He was knocked forwards again, heat slammed into him. His armor screamed, warning runes filled his vision. They were wholly unnecessary, he knew damn well that the area was dangerous.
The ship buckled under its own weight, metal creaked and groaned. Struggling and ultimately failing to keep its shape. It collapsed, burying the corpses of both the Mechanicum and Alpha Legion under a massive pile of fire, metal, and stone.
"Medon!"
"Made it out, brother. I cannot say the same for any of my agents. They were all but liquified by the force of the blast. My armor is getting low on power, but it will hold."
"I'm sending you coordinates, meet me there with your chosen. We'll plan on how to find Scylia and Telemateus." An acknowledgement blip came through, and Elatus stood. He was tempted to stop and rest, to catch his breath. His twin hearts pounded like drums in his head and his lungs strained under the cloud of smoke and dust. But he had to keep going, the Alpha Legion could never afford to abandon their own. There were so few of them left in the galaxy.
Deep within a place unknown, a space of infinite expanse while simultaneously a diminutive prison a consciousness roiled. It hungered, secrets abounded around it, just within reach in some cases while distant and quiet in others. It heard the whispers, felt a connection to the minds of mortals nearby. Were it still able to, it would have licked its lips in anticipation. The Magos kept such wonderful secrets, his desires were simple yet elegant. For he too was a seeker of knowledge, through that this being would attain its form again. The sweet succulent souls of the Eldars' Descendants had been nearby, that had stirred it from barely awake to chomping at the bit to escape confinement.
Yet, it would have to wait a bit longer. It knew that, though that didn't make patience any easier to practice. The master of this world had promised it such sweet secrets so long ago, it had begun to assume he would never deliver his end of the deal. Power was such an easy thing to sell mortals, snake oil that they clamored for no matter how many times the truth reared its head at them.
Their greed was the delicious venom that seeped deep into their very being without a single lie whispered. Some mortals, however, needed a nudge. This magos was one of them, it had taken quite a lot to get them to begin indulging. But this being had learned to siphon off their odd rituals. Electricity, and the overindulgence of it, could fuel its needs and their desires equally. As the cohort longed for more of this "Motive Force", and bathed deeply within the currents of power, they fed it.
They helped it grow powerful once more, soon it would rise from this wretched cell and return to realspace in its full twisted beauty. It wondered for a long time, for what little time meant here, on all the greatest, most wonderful ways to fulfill its desires once this mortal foolishly freed it. Oh the look on what remained of Battista's face would be the most decadent prize for two centuries of planning. Such easy prey, it presumed that it would eventually grow tired of fooling these creatures.
But every time, it was better than the last. As were the eternal screams of their delicious torture. It had been deprived here for too long, since those wretched Aeldari trapped it here. Hatred. That was what it had sustained itself on, overwhelming overbearing and overindulgent hatred. Once it escaped it would pay their backwards little world a visit, consume them all as they screamed in pain and begged for mercy.
The thought put a smile on its nonexistent face. It looked up into the nothingness, movement. They were moving. The Magos was clearly unconscious, otherwise it would be able to see through him. It snarled, the sound echoing infinitely in the expanse. Watching the Magos was the closest it had come to being in reality again for centuries, now it was deprived of that again? This better be worth it, the being thought.
It planned on giving Battista what he had asked for, yes. But it would do so in the most elegantly traitorous of ways. A double-cross so meticulous it would be perfect. The whispers of secrets and souls grew louder, perfect. Once it was close enough to Battista it would learn his mind, hear his secrets, learn his plan better than even he knew it. To destroy someone's plans, you had to know them, after all.
The Cinderheart, as mortals had called it eons ago, could do nothing but wait. Wait and broil in its hatred, simmer in its eagerness and anticipation. It's ravenous hunger. Finally, it would be sated again, at long last it would return to its former glory and claim the souls that were so clearly its own to do with as it pleased.