Brave Companions
Segmentum Pacificus
Before him lay an oily black pool, infinite in size and depth, drinking in all light and betraying nothing that lay under its surface. His hand reached out, shaking in fright and anticipation. Upon contact a ripple emerged, spreading outwards and gaining momentum until it had left his sight. Then stillness returned, and all he could hear was a low static hum from no direction in particular, moving whenever he sought its source.
Then a ripple emerged, pressed from a force unknown on the other side. He leaned in closely, but could only see himself. Then his appearance vanished, replaced only by the empty void. He began to feel empty, as he felt the abyss reach into him and hollow him out. He involuntarily groaned as he felt a force pull at him, first gently but ever so slowly gaining strength.
An eye opened under the surface, shining yellow. He heard something, but it was muffled and unclear. Then another eye opened, though this one was not human. Soon a thousand strange eyes were upon him, shifting, blinking, and mutating. The yellow eye remained fixed upon him, never changing, never blinking. More words he could not hear were uttered, and the eye closed. He felt a violent pull towards the pool, and could not resist, falling into its depths, gagging as the viscous fluid assaulted his throat and eyes. His heart beat faster and faster, until he convulsed, and it beat no more.
During this moment images raced through his mind as if flashes of lightning. He saw Titus, seated upon a charred throne, fashioning great chains all the while the building around him collapsed and burned. Vasilisa, kneeling, held to her head a bloodied Astartes helmet, whispering something under her breath. Indrania walked through streets of ash and dust, laughing maniacally as tears ran down her face. Atlas tearing out his left eye, and handing it to a wretched and twitching arm. Eyrian seated upon a burning world, enjoying a rotting feast. Many more images like these appeared and disappeared.
Then a stillness returned, he was standing upon the oily pool. In the distance came a ship, of a design not used since humanity's earliest days. Its sail bore a great and living eye, which turned to look at him as he gazed back at it. At the prowl stood a man, his face contorted into pure rage, if only to hide the pain beneath. A son seeking to fulfil his father's quest, upon an odyssey of blood.
The ship sailed past, and all faded to darkness and nothingness. He was dead.
And with the opening of his eyes he was alive again, kneeling in a pool of vomit. His body was drenched in sweat, and he was shaking. His breaths were haggard, painfully intaking a great deal of air. Slowly he got them back under control, and pushed himself up. Aside from another figure, the room was empty.
The figure in question was huge, almost twice the size of a regular human. And he wore the same face.
"Crios, tell me everything."
Steel Men
Segmentum Pacificus
The Gate of Dreams now played host to a strange cult. The strange priest Erebus had brought with him a myriad of wretches, vile heretics, and all assortments of sorcerers and fanatics. After the gruesome remains of several crew members were found, the victims of foul rituals, Atlas had confined them to a section of the ship. Only Erebus had leave to go where he wished, and that was by Atlas' side.
Ulysses was gathered with the other members of the Ekthroi, Achilleus, Ektor, and Parizitis. Agamemnon, much to his dismay, had been left behind with Evonios and Azrael. The room was cramped, and dimly lit, but it was far from the sorcerer's hold. Here they could not hear the chanting and screaming.
"They are unnatural beasts, fit only to be put out of their misery." Said Achilleus. He had suffered from an encounter with several of the cultists, though they were the ones who had suffered his wrath.
Ektor shook his head, "Atlas would not have let them aboard without a reason. We would do well not to interfere with his plans."
Ulysses nodded, "They are a means to an end. From what Erebus has told us, the Emperor employs and has employed far darker sorcery. Atlas must have the power to slay him, else this will all be for nothing."
"They said their 'gods' are peaceful, and only wish the Emperor to leave them be. Why then do they demand such vile rituals and sacrifices?" Asked Parizitis. He had kept a wide berth from the cultists, even before they had been sectioned off.
"All would-be gods are cruel. Atlas will end the False Emperor, and then he will end these False Gods. Until then we must work with these things, and remember that what we do, we do for humanity." Replied Ulysses, though he was not entirely convinced by what he said himself.
"The Warp howls. Where is that mad priest taking us?" Asked Achilleus
"A planet near Cygnus X-1, he seemed almost excited. Said it would answer all of Atlas' questions." Answered Ektor.
Charred remains were all that remained of Ingethel, the strange witch who only moments before had been before them, conducting in a perverse ritual which seemingly ended with her own annihilation. The Steel Men present looked on with horror at the carnage before them, though none said a word, the vox silent. Ulysses could see Atlas' face twitch slightly, and knew that even he was struggling to reconcile the horror of what they had seen. And then he snapped.
The Hand of Fate enclosed around the tiny figure of Erebus, and the priest was pulled into the air. "Filth, sorcery, and heresy, what more do you mean to subject me to? You promised answers, and all I gain is more questions. And I think I do not wish to know their answers." Said an extremely enraged Primarch.
Erebus seemed in pain, but managed to smile despite it. "My Lord forgive me if I speak in riddles, but this is the way of the Warp. You have seen what has happened before you in this reality, but you are blind to what has happened on the other side. Our host has ascended, for she shall guide you and your sons in that realm." The grip tightened, and his smile vanished, as he remembered that the one grasping him could crush him as easily as snapping a twig. "My masters are fickle and withhold much, but they fear another Anathema, another Emperor." He said, and was released, falling to the floor with a thud.
"How much does the Emperor know of them?" Atlas asked.
Erebus took a few moments to breathe and push himself back up, regaining his arrogant smile. "He knows enough to fear them, for he stole from them knowledge that should have been forgotten. But you will put things right. But first I must show you something." He replied, before beckoning Atlas to follow him.
They made their way through numerous tunnels and caverns, each filled with cultists chanting, dancing, or else doing bizarre activities. One was empty, of both people and items, except for a large pool at the centre. The pool was filled with a strange black oily liquid, which swirled around continuously despite there being no source of disturbance.
"Look into the pool, and tell me of what you see." Said Erebus, waving towards the foul water.
Atlas did as he said, kneeling next to it and gazing deeply into it. At first he saw nothing, it swirled around for several minutes, but then he began to make out a figure. It was then he realised that he was now surrounded by the liquid, though he breathed it in as easily as air. He looked up, and saw the figure again. Clad in silver robes, the face of the Emperor stared right back at him. Atlas froze in fear for a second, before realising that the figure was not his father, but his brother Cleophus. Minute differences told him as such.
They stared at each other for several moments, until he realised Erebus was standing beside him. "Cleophus is not the answer I seek." Atlas stated bluntly, his anger flaring again.
"I am sorry my Lord, it seems your brother is interfering with what you were to be shown. He cannot see us, so I don't think he is aware of what is happening." Replied Erebus, before chanting something in a guttural and unpleasant tongue. Around them appeared figures, strange xenos of all shapes and size, grotesque and beautiful, armed for war and those dying of plague, ever shifting and never changing. But Atlas did not take his eye off Cleophus, and none of the xenos looked at him nor seemed to care. Then his brother vanished, falling beneath the waves, facing them, and all the xenos were gone.
Atlas opened his mouth, intending to ask Erebus whether Cleophus could now see them, before he was overcome with extreme pain. He fell to his knees and grasped his head, voicelessly shouting in pain.
During this moment images raced through his mind as if flashes of lightning. He saw a great red beast, with vast leathery wings, assaulting the Imperial Palace, followed by marines drenched so deeply in blood it had painted their steel armour. Adalon making his way through an ever changing labyrinth, every path leading him back to Terra. Angeline bathed in golden light, golden wings carrying her through the air as she fought strange xenos Atlas had no name for. The Emperor, a corpse, seated upon a throne, screaming endlessly into the void. Many more images like these appeared and disappeared.
Then the pain stopped, and Atlas was returned to the cavern. "What was that, Erebus, what did I see?" He asked, pushing himself away from the pool and back to his feet.
Erebus seemed angered, but not at the question. "The answers the Primordial Truth attempted to send you, unfortunately blocked unwittingly by your brother. You saw only a fraction of what they meant to show you."
"My eye... that hand. I do not remember that." Atlas muttered.
"My Lord?" Asked Erebus.
Atlas shook his head, "There must be more, we must try again."
"It is risky, we are lucky it was Cleophus who intercepted it. One of your more gifted siblings may have been able to spot you. It seems your link with the other 19 is very strong indeed. There is another way. There is a price, however." Replied Erebus.
"I am willing to pay it, anything for the truth." Atlas said, though part of him screamed that all this was wrong, that it was not too late to turn back. He silenced that voice. It had always been too late.
The Crown of Towers transitioned back into realspace. For its crew it had been three months, though it had felt like an eternity. For those watching it return, it had been mere hours.
In return for the answers Erebus had promised, Atlas had delivered to him a speira of Zhetaroi, led by Captain Taitale. 256 Space Marines, along with the crew of the ship, had entered the warp, there to have apparently rendezvoused with Ingethel. Regardless of whether that had happened, the ship looked like it had taken a beating, though it was still intact and apparently undamaged.
Inside, however, was another story. They found gore lining the walls, excrement along the floor, bones in strange piles, in some cases constructed in strange patterns. The stench was unbearable, but it did not seem to affect Erebus. They pressed on, until they came to the ship's atrium. Inside, huddled, were roughly eighty of these marines. Aside from being covered in blood and bodily bits, they seemed the same as when they had left, though their demeanour had changed greatly.
One of them stood, and made his way to Atlas, Erebus, and the Ekthroi. "My Lord, Lochargos Vikare Omeros, second to the deceased Captain Taitale."
"What happened here Vikare?" Asked Atlas, unable to piece together what had led to such savagery.
"We did as you asked my Lord, we sought your answers." Replied the marine, apparently unwilling to divulge what he had seen.
"And, did you?"
The marine looked to the Primarch, but it was Erebus who spoke. "You may not see it, Lord Atlas, but they have been blessed. These are the warriors who will land the first strike, revelling in their perfect fusion of human and daemon. A vision for the future."
Atlas looked unconvinced. "Tell me, Vikare, do you feel you are the future?"
Vikare looked at Erebus, then back at Atlas. "It is like you said, my Lord, we are what make the future happen."
Atlas looked upon the great tear in the sky, a swirling void of dark and unnatural energy. He stared at it, and felt as though it stared back.
"The Baleful Eye meets the Eye of Terror." Said Ulysses, having managed to sneak up upon his gene-sire.
"Eye of Terror? Seems appropriate. This is where it all starts after all, the terror that we unleash upon the galaxy." Replied Atlas, stroking the fleshy skin where his left eye should have been.
"Terror? This doesn't sound like the liberation you usually speak of." Asked Ulysses, a look of concern dominating his face.
Atlas gave him a sad smile, "It is foolish to pretend that, even without this 'Chaos', such liberation would come without a great deal of terror, bloodshed, and death. Mankind would love the Emperor for enslaving them, and I know they will hate me for liberating them. For the cost, it is too much for them to bear. But I will have them bear it, it is the only way."
"My Lord, the arrangements are ready." Interrupted Erebus.
They made their way to a stormbird, which had been specially prepared for the journey it was to make. Surrounding it were the Ekthroi. They did not look happy.
"It is too dangerous to go alone my Lord, let us accompany you." Pleaded Ektor.
Erebus grinned wickedly at the sight of Ektor begging, "Your Lord is in no danger, he is a welcome guest of the Primordial Truth. He will find only the truth there, no enemies."
Atlas placed a hand upon Ektor's shoulder, and nothing needed to be said. He then made his way into the stormbird, and flew directly into the Eye of Terror. This time they waited only minutes, before the same stormbird flew back out, and made its way back to them. As it landed they feared the worst, though all sign of concern vanished when Atlas exited the ship.
He stood before them seemingly unaged and unchanged, and so they gathered it must have not have been so long a time in the warp for him either.
"My Lord, are you all right? What did you find in there?" Asked Ulysses.
Atlas looked at them, his eye moving between them, until it settled upon Ulysses. He smiled, one of sadness, but also one of genuine joy.
"My answers."
