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by ownddwqo

I do not write any of these stories, they were written by someone else, I claim no credit for the story, I just post it here because I am too lazy to actually read them and just listen to them. This is not written by me, this was written by The Plauge Dragon , you can find them on space battles or on Ao3 under the name The Plauge Dragon.

2. Chapter 2

I awoke with a throbbing headache that was like all of the hangovers I'd ever had thanks to my misspent youth all rolled into one while tiny Orks fought inside my skull. Frak, my whole body ached more fiercely than it ever had despite the rigorous physical drills I'd been forced to endure at the Schola. By the God-Emperor, even my HAIR HURT! How was that even possible?! Oh, and there was a finely wrought golden chain around my neck attached to an equally ornate golden Aquila upon resting heavily upon my chest. For a moment, I wondered how drunk I had gotten if I'd gone and bought something that must have been worth at least several month's pay without remembering it. Then the metal flooring underneath got jostled as the Salamander hit a bump, and I remembered everything. The disguised Eldar Harlequin. The Darkstone. The Academy. Emeli and the ritual. And then… and then…

Mind shying away from the events that had led to my current state, I gingerly sat up in the safety harness I'd been strapped into with a groan. Groggily I blinked, and looked about for Jurgen before seeing him at the driver's station. He looked down at me where I was laying, and I swear I saw relief in his normally phlegmatic expression. "Oh good, you're awake, sir." Jurgen stated calmly even as he swerved to avoid a pothole on the road; considering his usual style of driving, it was amazing that I'd slept as long as I apparently had before being jolted awake. The swelling bump on my head reminded me of how I was rendered unconscious in the first place, as well as… Nope, avoiding thinking about captivating purple eyes that threatened to consume all I was. Ignorant of my internal thoughts, Jurgen continued speaking as he drove with only one eye on the damaged roadway and the other on me. "I was worried that the shy Eldar did something to you, sir." He stated (1).

….Shy Eldar? What in the Warp was my aide talking about? There was only… the thing I was NOT going to think about. With another groan of misery as I gingerly held my head so it would stop spinning, I asked Jurgen about the events that had occurred in an attempt to get my own scattered and hazy thoughts in order. "What… What happened? The last thing that I remember…"

Dutifully, Jurgen filled me in on what he thought I was asking about. "Well, the 12th flattened that cult building along with the surrounding area, sir. Mulenz and Grear have been honored and avenged." He briefly made the sign of the Aquila before thankfully returning both hands to the steering wheel. I was about to ask for further detail when another voice made itself known, one that Jurgen wasn't reacting to.

'Where… where am I?' I heard. The voice was familiar to me, as I'd been going about all day with its owner.

"Mulenz?!" I shouted, looking around wide eyed for signs of the young Gunner who my memories insisted had been martyred in a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. But there was nobody there, just Jurgen and myself in the Salamander and the slowly brightening landscape we passed by as dawn slowly rose.

Jurgen looked at me with concern, the sort that in any other trooper I'd be concerned meant they were wondering if their Commissar had become a liability. His voice was hesitant and gentle as he spoke, acting like… Well, like I'd suffered a blow to the head, to be fair. "Sir… they're gone. Mulenz and Grear both. They died from that ritual, remember?"

As if to deny Jurgen's words, another voice piped up, though my aide showed no sign of hearing it. 'Emperor help me… are we dead?' Grear asked fretfully, voice streaked with increasing panic. 'Where's the Throne!?'

'I… where are we?! Emperor! Were we not faithful?!' Mulenz cried out in dismay and anguish, the words reverberating in my skull. I blinked in shock, wondering if I'd lost my mind, but then suddenly, I wasn't in the Salamander as my eyes opened once more from the blink. I was in… Well… It looked like the cells where the Arbitrator candidates at the Schola kept the prisoners they rounded up during their 'field trips'. Except… Some of the furnishings and 'equipment' seemed more suited towards a bordello with a certain type of clientele. What sort of detainment facility had a full bar along one side, as well as downright pornographic works of art and by the scent of it copious amounts of narcotics? I certainly had never heard of a standard Imperial prison with silken ropes, and the chains on the walls seemed like something out of a bad holo-drama. That's where I found Mulenz and Grear, chained to the wall with chains that had a decidedly purplish sheen to them. They were stripped of their uniform tops, and it looked like their chests had been… rubbed down with scented oils?

"What the frak?" I whispered. This all was just too frakking strange for me, and I wondered if I'd hit my head harder than I realized. For some reason, my whispered words echoed loudly in the room, as if they were coming from the very walls. It drew the two unfortunate troopers' attention towards me. I'd expected them to react positively at the sight of rescue, especially as Grear and Mulenz were two of the men most in awe of my reputation save for Divas. Instead, they recoiled in fear and revulsion from me, thrashing even harder at their chains in an effort to get away from me.

"What is THAT?!" Greer shouted hysterically, staring at me fearfully. I looked down at myself, wondering if there was perhaps some venomous arachnid or something on my uniform, then froze in shock. I looked… wrong. Twisted. Mutated. Multiple shades and sheens of various purple hues covered my body, while the skin of my hands looked like they were sculpted from pale marble. Other innumerable mutations covered me, twisting my form; I was beginning to understand the troopers fear and revulsion, as I was feeling it too just by looking at myself.

"It… it looks a little like the Commissar." Mulenz whispered shakily, before gaining a furious look and rallying his courage to scream at me. "MONSTER! How DARE you take Commissar Cain's face!" He roared, trying to lunge at me but was stopped by those chains holding him in place. Still he thrashed even harder than before, righteous fury overcoming him as he sought to strike out at the being daring to impersonate the regiment's heroic Commissar. Grear was reciting oath after oath to the Emperor, praying for the nightmare to stop. Meanwhile, I was having a panic attack to overshadow all other panic attacks. My form seemed to follow my boiling cauldron of panic and other mixed emotions, bubbling and pulsing with what seemed to be Warp energy. Overwhelmed, I shamefully turned and ran away from where the two troopers were imprisoned. I raced past what seemed to be gambling parlors, seedy looking bars full of a wide range of alcoholic beverages, and lunges fit only for the most decadent brothels before finding myself in another room, one done up like a stateroom and full of pictures of myself. But each pict-capture or portrait was vastly different, showing the sorts of expressions I neve allowed others to see. Many of them had signs or plaques on them, giving out various epithets with none being complimentary. 'Gutter rat.' 'Self-proclaimed coward'. 'Underhive trash.' 'Self-proclaimed liar'. 'Cheating swindler.' 'Self-proclaimed scum'. 'Unlucky fool'. 'Self-serving bastard.' And those were some of the nicer ones.

"Throne of Terra… What is this place?" I whispered in horror as I stared at the pictures that were each labeled something I'd thought of myself at one point or another. I needed a drink desperately, something to steady myself with and help get a hold on things. As if on cue, a steaming cup of Tanna appeared in front of me, the fine porcelain floating in midair on wisps of purple clouds. Carefully, with shaking hands that morphed into talons, then claws, and then back to human hands, I picked it up from where it hovered. I looked down into the dark liquid, and stared at my face. Instantly I screamed in horror and dropped the cup, causing it to shatter in a way that was somehow artistically pleasing. Turning, I ran to a mirror that I'd noticed in the corner, one of those that actors had over a desk while preparing to get into character. I feared what I would see within the purple-tinted pane of polished silver, but I turned to stare into it anyway; I may be cowardly, but even I knew that sometimes there was just no running from things no matter how horrid.

Put simply, I saw a monster. It had my face, or at least a caricature of it (I certainly didn't think my chin was that pronounced) and had the Mark of Slaanesh etched into its pale violet flesh. My body was ever-shifting, as if composed of water or clay. I opened my mouth to scream, and only a hiss came out as my tongue turned forked and extended out of my fanged maw by nearly a meter. I fell back from the sight, and scrambled back into a table as my mouth turned at least somewhat normal again. Not surprising myself in the least, I immediately used my regained ability for speech to plead and beg like the conniving coward I was. A braver and more faithful man would have already put a lasbolt through their own skull to see themself turned into such a picture of heresy, I was sure.

"Emperor… hear your servant…" I whimpered pathetically. "If not for me… then for the other two… Please… where… where are we?"

"Is it not obvious?" The mirror hissed, snake-like voice raspy and full of hate. I slowly turned to look back at it, seeing my own twisted features glaring right at me in contempt. That reminded me of one of my harshest taskmasters from the Schola, and the form twisted, turning into the appearance of the sadistic teacher in question. Those same flinty eyes bored into me, a familiar sneer on his lips as the vision in the mirror spat vitriol at me. "It's you, you amasec-addled meathead."

"I… what?" I whispered, still not comprehending things; just like his classroom back at the Schola now that I thought of it. The image gave a put upon sigh of disgust at my inadequacy, flipping his greasy mop of hair back before spelling it out for me.

"This place? It's you, or rather your soul. The inner mind of a Psyker." That was it, there was only one reasonable explanation for that statement; I had to be going insane.

"But… but I don't have that! I'm not a Psyker!" I pleaded flimsily. The form in the mirror shifted again to show the pouting scowl of Krystabel. It was an ugly look directed right at me, and stole away from her usual charms. Her words were equally ugly and biting, revealing the poison behind the pretty exterior.

"Of all the places to end up… this has to be a punishment from the Prince."

Sod that! If anyone here had cause to complain, it was me! Well, and Mulenz and Grear of course, but that didn't keep me from exploding now that I had a target for my confusion and terror. "What did you do?!" I shouted, pointing a finger that shifted to a hunting bird's talon, then a mighty beast's claw, and finally shifted back into a regular human finger at her. Krystabel obviously didn't appreciate my accusations, because she drew in a deep breath and let me have it.

"Me?! You blame me, thief! You stole Lady Emeli's power! You stole our souls! You stole her Ascension!" She raged impotently, banging a fist on the mirror but unable to reach me. Of course, she didn't need to strike me physically, or whatever counted as a physical assault in this place; her last words took the wind out of me as well as a gut punch would've.

"A- Ascension?" I whimpered. I knew that was the ritual I'd interrupted, and She-Who-I-Was-Not-Thinking-About had said that she was giving me what Emeli had wanted, but… No. No no no no. That… that couldn't be true.

"Search yourself, Cain," Krystabel spat the words out bitterly at me. "It should be easy, now that you're a Daemon Prince."

Yeah, that's what I was afraid she was going to say. Still, denial isn't easy to overcome at times. "...What?" I squeaked out as quietly as a tony rodent. That of course set Krystabel off again on another rant.

"What do you mean, what?! Cultists don't steal from others! And you DARE to-"

Alright, ignoring the sheer ludicrousness of that statement considering they'd been about to steal the souls of a large amount of their fellow planetary citizens (Seriously it was like claiming that Ork Freebootas or Eldar Corsairs didn't loot and plunder), I had to stop her there. "I serve the God-Emperor!" I raged righteously for once in my life, pushing through my fear and terror. "I… I serve Him on Terra!" I made the statement of my allegiance to the God-Emperor as firmly as I ever had, then forced my hands to stay normal in order to make the sign of the Aquila. It emboldened me somewhat, giving me more comfort than I'd ever taken from making the sign of prayer and the Imperium before, but it caused Krystabel to flinch as if I'd reached through the mirror and slapped her.

"You… you serve the Corpse-Emperor… and yet… The Prince…" She was shaking in rage, eyes wide and mouth frothing; honestly I preferred her this way, showing externally the ugliness of her soul. The infuriated cultist reared her head back and howled to the heavens, demanding answers. "SLAANESH! What did I do to deserve this!?" Krystabel wailed, angry tears gathering in her eyes and making her look like a juvie throwing a tantrum. "Why am I stuck in an Anathema-lover!?"

I ignored her, staring at my hands which had started shifting again after I'd made the sign of the Aquila. Focusing my will upon them, they slowly returned to my own hands, no pale flesh or mutations. In an instant Krystabel faded from the mirror (still ranting), revealing my own hideously mutated self. Still focusing intently, I imagined myself as I was the last time I'd seen myself in a mirror. Slowly, the mutations faded, the scars vanished, and finally, I was seeing myself. Progress, but I was still clinging to my denial and running from the truth like I ran from danger. "Okay… this is a nightmare. It has to be one." I told myself as I paced frantically about the room. "I am a servant of the Emperor, as poor of a servant as I may be… This isn't real. I can't have become a Daemon without my consent (2)." It was then that in my aimless movements I tripped over a chair, going down flat on my face and I felt the pain. Even in my most vivid nightmares, pain was not something that occurred.

"Frak." I whispered, settling down into a chair that had appeared. I couldn't run from this anymore, my river of denial had finally run dry. "This… this is happening, isn't it?" I asked the mirror I was sitting in front of. Thankfully, it didn't take the form of another figure from my past or one of the Cultists whose souls I'd unwittingly consumed; I was especially grateful that Emeli, that witch, didn't appear. I had absolutely no desire to see her ever again, and hoped fervently that Slaanesh had dragged her down to the deepest pits of the Warp and far away from me. Technically that was the case, as I learned later. However, that left the issue of the two Guardsmen as Cultists who deserved their damnation weren't the only ones in here with me.

Slowly and finding new depths of horror and dismay, I began to further put together the travesty that had occurred, not only to myself but to Mulenz and Grear. My voice shook as I spoke the conclusion I'd come to aloud. "If… if what she said is true… merciful Emperor, I've damned two souls!" For once, my thoughts were focused more on others rather than myself. My piety had always been… middle of the road at best, but the idea that I'd forced two soldiers of incredible faith down the path of damnation by my own idiocy made me ill in both my stomach and my heart. I lurched up from the chair and stumbled through the halls towards the area I'd found them in, tripping over my feet in my haste to get to the two Guardsmen; thankfully, they remained human feet. I focused on keeping myself… me, as I approached the garish cell where the two were still confined. Instantly, their faces brightened with hope at seeing my uncorrupted face.

"Commissar! Thank the Emperor!" Grear shouted, unaware of the bitter irony of that statement. "Help us down!" He pleaded desperately, asking me to save the two of them. "There has to be a key somewhere!" I looked around, mentally wishing for a key to appear. Just out of their vision, I watched a golden key shimmer into existence. I raced for it, picking it up while half expecting anything gold to burn me (3). With shaking hands, I opened the locks on the chains. It made me feel… strange. Empty, as if I'd suddenly gone without lunch. I ignored it, and focused on getting the two of them out of… whatever they were trapped in.

"What's the last thing you remember?" I asked them, as they rubbed their chafed wrists; there were manacles lying about that had soft leather padding within them for reasons I'd rather not think of, but those hadn't been used on the captive Guardsmen.

Obediently, Great replied to my query. "That damn ritual… we were eating, and then they used sorcery to bind us. Jurgen managed to overcome it, but we couldn't… and then…"

"Pain… it felt like we were being ripped apart… And the pieces were flowing towards that bitch…" Mulenz finished. "And then… here… and then…" He gained a panicked look, staring at me with a look that conveyed desperation to relay vital information. "Commissar! There's a thing looking like you here!"

I sighed, feeling emotionally drained and for once deciding to be fully honest with someone. "I have a theory as to what happened, but by the Emperor you two are not going to like it." In their full vision, a set of chairs manifested as I willed them to, and I sat down. At my urging, the two troopers did likewise, staring at me with shock and surprise; but no fear, such was their misplaced trust in me and my reputation.

"Bloody… are you a Psyker, sir?" Grear asked.

"That must be how he's always able to find the enemy!" Mulenz exclaimed.

"No, I'm not… or wasn't…" I put my head in my hands. "Remember that clown Trader? It turned out he was a Xeno, and gave me a Xenos artifact of particular value to Emeli's patron."

The two made horrified faces as they mulled that over. "Value, sir? Like… a daemon?"

"An Eldar soul," I replied, lifting my face to look them in the eyes. "I used it to bargain to keep the planet from being damned… but I forgot to clarify more." I put my head back in my hands, resisting the urge to break out weeping.

"You bargained with… the Ruinous Powers?" Grear whispered, rightfully horrified but still willing to hear me out. "And… what then?"

"As far as I know, Slaanesh kept her word… But she added something onto it. If… and this is a big if… What I think is true is indeed fact… then I'm a Daemon now."

There was a pause, before the two looked at one another, and burst out laughing. I let them laugh for a bit, figuring that they needed it, but noticed to my horror that their pleasure made me feel… stronger. Better. Healthier. Finally, they stopped, noticing my horrified face.

"You're… you're not joking, are you, sir?" Mulenz whispered to me, face pale.

"I… I don't want it to be true… to be turned into one of the pawns of the Enemies of the God-Emperor…" We paused and as one all performed the sign of the Aquila at the mention of He on Terra. "But… I… I don't think there are many other options…"

This time it was Grear who protested, denying that I could ever be an enemy of the Throne. "But you just performed the Aquila! That should burn a Daemon!"

"It should…" I agreed as I let out another sigh, continuing with this uncharacteristic streak of truthfulness. "That monster that looked like me? That was me. I… I woke up here, and…" I explained what I had seen. What I had been told. "...All of this leads me to one conclusion… I ate your souls," I whimpered, the tears I had been holding back starting to spring from the corners of my eyes. "God-Emperor forgive me, I ate your souls…" I was full out crying now, lifting my head to the ceiling as I wailed. "HOLY EMPEROR! If you can hear me, I beg that You take these two from me!" For once, my concern was indeed genuine and focused on people other than myself. And then…

Fire. Pain. It was like that pain earlier, but… lesser. Fires of golden energy tore through the place, burning away the garish trappings and leaving the walls shining gold. It felt like I was being burned in fire… but then as quickly as it happened it stopped. The pain stopped. I looked up from where I'd been dumped to the floor as my conjured chair was burnt away, and my jaw dropped as I scrambled to my knees. Behind me I could hear Mulenz and Grear do the same, and I knew they must be equally in awe as I was.

The Emperor had arrived as if summoned, and He was more radiant than I had ever envisioned. He looked to be as if He had never sustained His grievous wounds, glowing like He was out of a Holy text. He was clad in great armor made with the sort of artifice that legends were made out of. On one enormous hand was a gauntlet with bladed talons, looking like those of a noble hunting bird. In the other was His sword, blazing in flames that defied the darkness and cast away all shadows, emitting gentle warmth but threatening to turn those who were unworthy to ashes. His lustrous hair flowed in the wind of His own power, and from His eyes burned pure light which also formed a divine halo about His head. The light He emitted still stung harshly, but my tears were now ones of joy as I beheld the face of my god (4).

"A Daemon calling for me to take the wrongfully damned…" The Emperor murmured, even His whisper echoing with the thunder of the storm and lapping waves of His power and authority. I fell prostrate from my knees, face pressed to the now golden flooring as I was unwilling to look the Master of Mankind in the eyes with my shameful damnation. With awe and trembling, I pleaded not for myself, but for others.

"Merciful Emperor… this damned servant wishes you to save those who can be saved," I breathed out; part of me wanted to whimper from being in His presence, but I refused to shame the Master of Mankind with such a shameful display. "Take them from me. I do not want the souls of the Righteous to suffer as I have."

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the gentle pulsing of His divine power, before He spoke once more. "Rise, Daemon. Let me look at you," The Emperor rumbled in command. I immediately sprang to attention, snapping the best and crispest salute I ever had in my entire life, with tears still in my eyes. I knew I was unworthy to gaze upon Him, had been unworthy even before my cursed transformation, but I'd be damned further before I disregarded a direct order from Him Upon The Golden Throne. I stood at attention, holding my salute as I gazed at His face as He inspected me down to the minutest detail. The Emperor's glowing eyes narrowed as He looked me in the eyes, and I could see fury there. I expected to be smote down as I deserved, but His rage was not for me. "That Whore…" He hissed with the sound of mighty pistons churning (I supposed due to His aspect as the cogboys' Omnissiah), eyes glowing with rage most righteous. I felt honored and comforted that the Emperor Himself felt such fury on behalf of myself and the two loyal Guardsmen. Then the anger in His eyes dimmed, and became curious, almost calculating. "But the Warp… it is peaceful here. More peaceful than I have ever felt in my entire existence." He mused, and I felt the weight of countless eons behind that statement. Then, He once more commanded me, His question simple yet demanding. "What happened?"

I hastily explained what I had done and why, how I had bargained for the safety of the world. I was even honest in telling how I had been most concerned about myself, knowing Grear and Mulenz were there listening but refusing to lie in the face of the God-Emperor Himself. Let Him judge me as I was, as I deserved, a failed and fallen servant. It took many long moments, but The Emperor's angered features began to soften as I spoke and explained. By the end, when I mentioned the pain I felt as I was changed, He was laughing. It was a deep, booming laughter, like that of thunder from beyond the horizon that promised a cleansing rain. I could have ecstatically listened to His laughter forever and forever until the end of time itself even as it pained my ears just as His light pained my eyes and His presence pained my cursed body.

"You never gave in!" He roared, laughing with pure glee with the sound of ice tinkling as mighty glaciers crashed together in the background of His amusement. The Emperor continued, granting us the wisdom behind His statement. "You were knocked unconscious before you could! By default, you never gave in!" His booming laughter lifted all of our spirits, raising them higher than they ever had been before. His gaze went past me to Mulenz and Grear, eyes filled with gentle compassion. "I'll take those two." He promised me solemnly. I turned to look at the two troopers as they vanished in wisps of gold; as they did so both of them saluted towards me, but surely it was meant for the Emperor rather than my damned self. I felt such relief, knowing they were safe and in the Emperor's Realm where they belonged. With that done, I returned to my knees in supplication, and this time pleaded for myself.

"Emperor… please… purify me…" I begged Him. It may have seemed strange that I would not fear oblivion at the Emperor's blessed hands, but I had discovered now that there were far worse things than death.

The Emperor paused, staring at me intently as I awaited the cleansing fires of His wrath and power. Instead, to my disbelief they never came; He knelt down next to me, and gently laid His gauntleted hand upon my shoulder. Oh, how that touch burned, yet I treasured it; later I would discover a small burn scar there, barely visible, and whenever possible I allowed it to remain as a reminder of this moment. As softly as was possible for Him with all of His immense power and glory, He spoke to me.

"My time is running out here before I must turn my attention back to the Astronomican and other matters. But know this. I gave you a gift. A gift initially meant to exorcize you, but I see that is no longer the case, or even readily possible." His eyes glowed bright, staring into my own.. "Now, it will contain you."

"C-contain?" I stuttered out, unable to wrap my mind around what He, my god and immortal liege, was saying.

He kept His gaze upon mine, and from the corner of His eye I saw a faint, glimmering tear of purest gold. His voice was gentle, apologetic, as if He Upon Terra would ever have to apologize to a wretched creature like myself! "I cannot save your soul without starting a great war that would distract from the Astronomicon. I am sorry, Ciaphas, but I cannot abandon My duties for one man, even one such as you (5)."

It stunned me, and my world fell apart. But not entirely because He refused to cleanse me. It was far, far more than that. It was the viewpoint of a lifetime coming unraveled in the face of newly discovered truth. I had long held that the Immortal Emperor had far better things to concern His time than my or anyone else's struggles, that while He blessed us it was up to us to save ourselves. Now, while it was proven that He had other things than my fate concerning Him, He still knew and cared for me and my trials. "You… you know my name…" I whispered in awe.

"Of course I do," The Emperor replied gently, face still softened in sympathy. Then His gaze hardened, and His grip upon my shoulder firmed yet still not enough for those talons to pierce flesh. His words rang out, and out of the corner of my eye I saw them being carved into the golden walls by His unconscious might, another reminder of His will for me. "You have been damned by no fault of your own, Ciapas. But… you can still be of use to Me. Wear the Gift I gave you, and you will remain almost human. Remove it, and your True Nature will be unleashed. I give you this chance on account of you letting those two souls go. I hope this wasn't a mistake. Do not disappoint me, Ciaphas Cain, Daemon Prince of Slaanesh and of My Imperium." With that, He shimmered away, and I collapsed to the ground fully like a puppet with its strings cut. I blinked once more, and I was back in the Salamander, Jurgen holding my head above the metal and looking down at me with concern.

"Sir? You passed out." He said, brows furrowed. "Are there any lingering side effects from earlier, or that knock to the head? Sorry about that by the way, Commissar." I noticed the Aquila on my chest again, and reached for it with reverence.

"Was that…" Sensing my unspoken query, the ever dutiful Jurgen replied.

"I found it on you, sir, before you woke up the first time. It glowed gold a bit, just before you woke up. Begging your pardon, but doesn't seem like the sort of thing you normally go for."

"It is a gift from Him on Terra," I told him.

"Truly?" Jurgen asked, eyes wide and making the sign of the Aquila. I did so as well. Of course now would come the truth, and the ultimate test of my aide's loyalty.

"Jurgen… I need to tell you something. Something you can't tell anyone else." So I told him of my recent mental delve. When I finished, he looked at me with confusion.

"You still serve The Emperor, right?" He asked.

"With all my heart and soul." I told him, more truthfully and firm in my faith than I'd ever been before. How could I look upon Him Who Sits Upon the Golden Throne and not have my meager faith bolstered?

"Then I don't see a problem with it." he replied, shrugging in his own carefree manner. "Warp beast or not, you're still the Commissar. I imagine that if it really was such an issue, you'd order a summary execution for yourself."

His blind trust in me was humbling, and I deeply wanted to be worthy of it. "Thank you, Jurgen." I whispered, still conflicted. Part of me still wished for destruction of my damned self even as my survival instincts raged against such thoughts, but He had said that He still had a use for me.

"You're welcome, Sir," He replied back to me as blandly as if he'd just refilled my cup of tanna rather than accept me as I was. Truly, Jurgen was one of a kind and I was reminded of how lucky I was to have him. Deep within, at his faith in me, I felt a warm trickle flowing into my soul which I dismissed as lingering effects of my encounter with the God-Emperor.

The rest of the mission was a piece of cake aside from explaining what had happened to the ever suspicious Colonel Mostrue in a manner he'd accept without giving him the truth. Overnight, the cultists had died, like a certain breed of winged insect from some Agriworld or other that dropped dead after a single day of maturity. The populace celebrated wildly, liberated both from the hated former Governor and from the threat of Chaos. Of course they had no clue of what their salvation had cost. I just hoped that the Inquisition wouldn't look at me too closely. All I said to High Command was that Jurgen and I had disrupted a ritual from a third faction, and perhaps that had severed the connection the cults had with their Dark Gods? General Mahlone seemed to buy it at least, even if Mostrue was skeptical.

With the planet cleared of active hostiles, the regiment was going to be packed onto another transport and sent to Emperor-knows-where as soon as a ship could be arranged for. As we were waiting, the soldiers decided to try out the bars, gambling dens, the newly reopened brothels, and other places of ill-repute located in the capital which were all too happy to unburden eager Imperial Guardsmen of their wages. Normally, I'd be right there with them, 'ensuring that the troops met the required standards of behavior', or some other such excuse to let me get at a chance to drink, gamble, and enjoy other pursuits. However, this time I went a much different way. I'd decided, much to Divas' disbelief when I passed up the opportunity to go with him to a local watering hole he'd heard about, that I needed to go to church. After my experiences, I was in desperate need of spiritual guidance; even if the God-Emperor Himself had said that I was still of use to Him, I worried for the state of my soul. I mean, I was me, how could I help but let down the expectations that He On Terra had for me?

At first I tried to go to the grandest Cathedrals the city boasted, but to my disbelief and dismay my power swelled at the excess debauchery and degeneracy that emanated from each one (6). For frak's sake, they felt far closer to what I'd felt in the presence of the Dark Whore than what I'd felt from the Emperor that these places were supposed to worship! The frak was wrong with this planet that even the priests were corrupt (7)?! Desperate, needing to unburden my damned soul at least a little bit, I kept looking. Finally, I arrived at a small, out of the way chapel that was overshadowed by its neighboring buildings. Even being across the street from its doors stung a little, so I brace myself and trudged inwards. By the time I entered, it was like I was being rubbed raw with sandpaper before being subjected to a Valhallan ice shower using seawater. I staggered to attention before the statue of the Emperor in his aspect of the great protector, making the sign of the Aquila while pressing my hands against the gift the God-Emperor had bestowed upon me. The priest, of middle age and whose faith burned brightly at my cursed soul, soon noticed me and came over with a kind and welcoming smile on his face. It was all I could do to keep from weeping, his faith was so beautiful to behold; were I before someone of even stronger faith I doubt I could control my reaction of blissful if pained awe.

"Hello, my Child. I am Father Anthony." He said as he approached where I stood next to an empty pew. I was glad for the emptiness of the sanctuary as I had much to confess. I bowed my head respectfully to him, again giving the sign of the Aquila as I introduced myself.

"Commissar Ciaphas Cain, of the 12th Valhallan Field Artillery Regiment." Then I cut straight to the chase. "Father, I need guidance." I admitted, sitting down and glorying in how even the simple, smooth wood of the pew stung like nettles, so deeply had genuine faith in the God-Emperor sunk into every inch of this humble little house of worship. The whole place was filled with an air of true piety to the point it ached to breathe.

"What is it, my child?" Father Anthony asked, pulling up a seat beside me on the pew.

"I fear I've been tainted by the Dark Gods." I confessed shamefully. Well, 'fear' was something of an extremely vast understatement. More like 'was consumed wholly by the taint'. Seeing the incredulous look the older man had at such a bold-faced statement, I continued my plea for spiritual assistance. "And I need to know if my taint means that I am a heretic."

"I see…" The Priest rubbed his clean shaven chin, eyes thoughtful. I was grateful for it, having been half fearful that he'd throw me out or call the local Arbites as soon as I'd made my confession of taint. But no, his faith and devotion to the sanctity of the confessional rang true like a grand bell. Gently, he questioned me further, no judgment in his gaze or voice. "How do you know you're tainted?"

"I can feel things," I replied. "It's… recent. I cleared out a cabal of Slaanesh worshippers… but I didn't come out unscathed."

"What happened?" Father Anthony asked calmly, gently letting me know he was listening to me and willing to help shoulder my burdens. I'd never met a priest like him before, and perhaps if I had I'd have found a stronger faith far earlier than I had.

I decided that 'I successfully bargained with a Chaos god' was probably too much for a priest, so I sighed. It felt wrong to lie to this helpful soul in a place that radiated with genuine love for the God-Emperor, but I couldn't put that burden on him. If the Inquisition came sniffing around Slawkenberg after we'd left, I didn't want him being put in any uncomfortable positions. That, and I doubted he'd still consider the sanctity of the confessional valid if I admitted to being a literal Daemon. "Their leader was sacrificing the cult to achieve daemonhood. I interrupted the ritual… and ended up taking in that power."

His eyes widened, and he took a moment to gather himself, but kept his voice calm and steady. "Taking it in how, son?"

"I wasn't a Psyker before." I then focused on my hands, and through great effort considering my location, a small plume of purple fire appeared which I then promptly snuffed out before I alarmed the priest. "And I… I feel… stronger, when in the presence of the domain of degeneracy." I further admitted, still halfway expecting him to call in the authorities. But he didn't. Bless his soul, he didn't.

There was a lengthy pause as Father Anthony regathered himself again. I doubted the seminary covered what to do when a Psyker came in and performed witchcraft in your temple. Still, he handled it more than admirably. "My Child… why come here, then?"

What I said next didn't surprise him, but was met with sad acceptance, as if he knew that the other places of worship to be found were unworthy. "Because every other place strengthened me. Every other chapel was filled with that corruption… But being here… It hurts. That must mean that, since I am tainted, your chapel must be the most faithful to the God-Emperor."

"The taint runs so deep that the presence of faith hurts you… And yet you still came, seeking counsel?" Father Anthony asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Father. I… I don't want to be tainted. I didn't want it…" I trailed off as he placed a hand on my shoulder, which felt like a gentle fire; enough to register as partially painful, but soft enough that its heat didn't hurt as much as it should have.

"A heretic turns from the God-Emperor out of selfish desire. Not because he is forced to, but because he chooses to. You are tainted, yes, but your faith shows. You are not yet a heretic. Keep the faith, my child. It will be a long, hard path, but I don't think your path is forever tied to damnation." He looked me dead in the eye, his own shining with conviction and love for all those who held true to the Emperor. "Damnation requires a choice. To take the easy path of heresy or the hard path of faith. Your circumstances can only influence your decision. They cannot make it for you." His words rang with truth and so much faith it felt like I was being pelted by heavy rainfall; unpleasant yet cleansing.

"Thank you, Father," I said, voice choked with genuine emotion. I glanced at my wrist chronometer, seeing that I must have spent hours wandering in search of a genuine house of faith. I'd have to leave soon if I hoped to make it back to the regiment before curfew. "But now I must be going."

Father Anthony stood as I did, smiling encouragingly to me as he made the sign of the Aquila. "May the Emperor guide you, for while He no longer speaks directly, His ways are mysterious yet just." With that, I walked out of the hall, making sure to divest myself of a significant amount of my pay into the church's charity box. It felt right to do so, after I had been given such fine counsel. Those parting words, however, rang within me as I strode past the doors and down the street, the sandpaper feeling fading slowly the further away from the chapel I got. The Emperor didn't just speak to anyone, especially not a daemon… Was it actually the Emperor I'd spoken to, or some abomination taking his form to deceive me?! Had I condemned those two to their damnation regardless of my intentions?! That thought staggered me, leading me to go into a nearby alley where I went to my knees in horror out of view of any passers by. Could the Dark Gods take on the shape of The Emperor!? It seemed impossible, but then I'd thought one couldn't unwillingly become a Daemon either. I took a few deep breaths, steadying myself before standing once more.

No. Not one more. If someone died, I'd keep their soul safe until I could be absolutely sure I was handing them off to the God-Emperor and only Him. If I had to go to the Golden Throne itself to be certain, I would! Little did I know where that determination would lead, but I think I'd still have made that resolution regardless. I thumbed the Aquila, feeling the burnished metal. This was a sign of my humanity, my one last outreach. But now, if I truly threw myself into what I had become… Then those I safekept would be damned as well. I couldn't risk that. Damned as I was, I refused to damn others. Even I could only be so selfish.

"I will never serve you, Slaanesh," I hissed. I spat the name with all the disgust I could muster. I refused to be some slave to Chaos. I'd rather die. And coming from me, that's saying something. With that, I departed once more through the growing night, returning to my regiment and the path I'd been set upon.

"Treasonous blood for the Emperor! Skulls of the corrupt for the Golden Throne!" - Battle Cry of the Slawkenberg Liberator Regiments (8)

"All are welcome here." -Engraving placed over the door of Father Anthony's(9) chapel after the departure of the 12th Valhallan Artillery Regiment from Slawkenberg.

1: It wasn't until he told me his side of the story that I understood, albeit barely. The idea of the True Form of Slaanesh being a shy Eldar woman seemed antithetical at the time.

2: This was thought to be the case for tens of thousands of years, if not tens of millions of years, but Ciaphas is something of a trailblazer.

3: A reasonable conclusion.

4: The section following this was something that made me go through all too many quills to read, my jealousy nearly consuming me. But I suppose a Slaaneshi Daemon Prince of immense power begging the one most daemons call 'Anathema' to take back His faithful would require some personal attention…

5: A simple truth, yet the fact that He knew Cain's name showed how much He cared… even if it took time for that to sink in.

6: One of Ciaphas' powers, which has been of great use to the Inquisition, is the ability to determine sources of degeneracy and heresy. In fact, him saying that someone is innocent has saved many lives, to the point that some of the Radicals have (without his knowledge), began to try to find ways to summon him to serve as Final Judge in an interrogation.

7: Sadly, as Ciaphas would discover soon enough, this was not native solely to Slawkenberg. At that time the local Ecclesiarchy was particularly corrupt and deeply in the pockets of the late Governor. However, as a planet where heavy cult activity existed, the Inquisition took a heavy interest in why the priesthood of Slawkenberg had failed in their duties to maintain the populace's faith in His Most Holy Majesty. After we helped the church to clean house, I'm happy to report that Caiphas can find no excess decadence in Slawkenberg's houses of faith.

8: Both Imperial allies and forces of Chaos are confused and left stunned at this motto coming from the lips of hundreds of heavily armored shock troopers charging at the enemies of the Imperium. In the latter case at least, I think that may be the point.

9: After the Inquisition's investigations into the clergy of Slawkenberg were concluded, then Father Anthony would be part of a mere handful of local priests remaining. As such he easily rose to prominence as a leader in the church community after Slawkenberg was elevated to a Shrine World. Among his various duties, he's the chief Confessor for a certain Order of the Adepta Sororitas which now calls Slawkenberg home.