Warhammer 40K: Dreams of the fated...

Pain
Darkness
For an Eternity it seemed, That was all that Atash knew, all he could perceive.

But then, There was Light.

Not the harsh luminescence of artificial light, but the bright, warm light of a star, as seen in the blue sky from the surface of a world.

The Sky is clear, the sun is Warm, but the air tastes Arid, familiar.

Atash wakes up.

As conscience returned, so did recollection; the appearance of a hated foe believed defeated. The fight, faster than the eye or even mind could follow, the desperation, the anger--

-- the fall, and the pain... and the fear. Not for himself, but for his squad mates, his battle-brothers. Even as a small part of Atash's mind registered the clear sky and warm sun, the rest of his attention was caught up in one overwhelming concern that overwrote everything else.

Tarik, Lance, Rainer - are they all right? Did they escape, did they survive? Are they all right? Did the enemy reach them? Do my battle-brothers yet live?! Until he knew the answer, he could focus on nothing else.

A voice, powerful yet benevolent, and and full of a sense of infinite patience and calmness,
"What is it you believe happened."

Atash hesitated, uncertain and agitated. "I don't know - I fell, and the daemon came down after me, and-- I don't know what happened after that. It must have gone after them as well, and I can only hope they fared better than I..."

"hmm.." Was all the man offered in response.

For a while, the man gazed off at lights that shimmered on the horizon. Then commented, seemingly ignorant of the young marines strife.

"It truly was a beautiful city. Id heard of it, but you must understand how I'd never had guessed that the Sagas could be so.. accurate. "

He then turned half to face Atash, revealing the gleaming yet subtle augments along the left side of his skull.

"Ah, Hope. Something to give strength to the mortal masses. But such uncertainty has no place for the likes of Us. Hope is nothing compared to the conviction of belief.

So, what do you Believe happened to your brothers. How strong is your Conviction in them."

Atash blinked and frowned, his concern for his squadmates receding slightly as his current situation intruded more fully on his awareness. He glanced around, taking in his location, then turned to face the unknown source of the voice. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the figure, and he took a step back, settling himself defensively.

"I believe in my brothers' abilities, and that they are perfectly capable in just about any situation," he replied carefully, his eyes never leaving the other figure. "However, I also know what they would be facing. I fear for them - and I am not ashamed to admit so." Atash's frowned deepened. "What I do not know right now is - who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The figure seemed to ponder this for a moment.
"I am a friend. What i am doing here remains to be seen, for i am not here, You are."

The figure turned fully to face Atash, and again turned the subject back as if it had never changed.

"If you truly have faith in your brothers power to overcome any foe, than that is what they will have done. If, that is, your trust in them is strong enough. You need not worry on inevitability of a truth you know, a truth you believe in."

A Sly smirk crept upon the figures aged face, eliminating decades from his visage.

"I am not here, for 'here' is you and only You are here. So ask yourself here - what do you truly believe became of your brothers."

"Faith?" Atash snorted and shook his head slightly. "Faith is for the weak-minded, those who do not have the courage or will to seek knowledge, to discover the truth. Faith is blind and easily misled, easily abused. And mere faith does not, cannot, change something that has already happened. I will not put my trust in faith."

He straightened, his narrowed gaze still fixed on the other figure. "As for what I believe - I believe they were facing a foe greater than they are fully prepared for, because I know who that foe is and what he is capable of. I know that foe has abilities they are not equipped to handle. And I know that I have failed them by falling as I did."

Atash paused for a moment to take breath, pain flickering briefly across his face. "But despite all that I know, I still hope. And I will continue hoping even as I seek the truth - because hope is all we have left."

"And what of the faith your brothers posses?"

The figures response is earnest, yet tinged with an echo of something else.. disappointment?

"In their chapters, in the Emperor. What of the faith your brothers put in You? Do you condemn them fools for it? Do you have the Strength of mind to find out?"

Atash hesitated for a moment, then shook his head again. "Faith is for false gods, and based on ignorance. What my squadmates have for their chapters is based on their knowledge and experience - it is belief, confidence. Likewise for the Emperor - or at least, I hope so, for the Emperor is no god. Nonetheless, I will not begrudge them their own beliefs, whatever they may be."

He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. "As for whatever faith, or confidence, or belief they have - or had - in me, well." His mouth twisted in an unhappy grimace. "It does not change the fact that I have still failed them. Their faith did not help me in that regard." He shifted his weight restlessly from foot to foot, then his expression became resolute. "I have to get back to them, somehow. If they still face Kharriaz, I cannot leave them to face him alone, no matter the cost."

Atash looked around again, then picked a direction seemingly at random and began walking.

As Atash took his first dozen steps, the intensity of the sun magnified in an instant, the heat pounding down becoming immediately unbearable.

The world began to shake with violent earthquakes, yet were different from any quake Atash knew.

Not like earthquakes, something else...
Familiar...
"Hmm.."
Recent...
"You should brace your mind."
Turbulence.

The world went Dark again. The Pain came back. Hard.

A new light, deep and red this time. Emergency lights, inside an aircraft, shuddering slightly in during flight.
Storm Raven class judging by the size.

In front of Atash, lied a body. Astarte, Green armor, or it was once. Now it was mostly a visceral red. Missing most of its left side.

Another Astarte lent over the body, deep in some kind of a chant, or litany..."...guide him safely back to our side, else guide him to yours.." Taric prayed to the Emperor for his fallen brother, on the cusp of death. Having done all that could be done, his Narthacium was covered in gore.

Many wires and machines were connected to the body in the center of the Storm Ravens hold, charts showing barely the faintest signs of life sustained by the Sus-an implant. A Techmarine tended to the equipment, his binary chant intelligible. He turned, appraising the body, "His body is broken. But not yet beyond repair."

At the far end of the hold, Lance yelled into the Vox, the fury of his new lord at the fore. "..not enough medicae resources on planet! Need immediate access to the Deathwatch Destroyer! No, NOW! YOU started this, YOU WILL help fix it!!.."

"Their faith in you remains unbowed."

Atash braced himself as the pain slammed into him once again, threatening to drag him back down into darkness. But as he beheld the red-lit scene before him, another emotion rose up within him, strong enough to almost block out the pain.

Relief.

Atash's astral form gazed around the interior of the Storm Raven, his previous agitation fast fading away as he saw his battle-brothers all safe and unharmed. Somehow they had escaped the daemon prince - and rescued his own broken body as well. "They are safe," he murmured, his relief almost overwhelming him. "They are all right, all of them."

He then took a moment to steel himself before looking back at his own body, automatically murmuring the lower enumerations to himself to help focus and keep his psychic projection from dissipating. The damage was shocking to see, and another wave of pain swamped him briefly before he stubbornly forced it back and held himself together with sheer will. They had removed his helmet, and Atash could see his own face, the skin parchment-pale beneath the familiar freckles and red light. His right leg was gone, and the left side of his chest was a bloody, mangled ruin.

But the machines continued to show that faint flicker of life, and the fact that his astral self was even still here proved that he was not dead just yet. "Be it faith, or belief, or hope - I will not disappoint them," Atash vowed, resolute. "I will not fail them, no matter what it costs me."

"Good."

In the glimmer of a pale blue light, the Old man materialized on the opposite side of Atash's body.

"But the cost has been paid. You are dead. at least in the most literal of senses. The physical trauma was devastating, but the Emperor built us well. Rainer's assessment is correct.

The psychic trauma however.."

The figure looked down upon Atashes reposed body.

"Your soul was cast from your body, before it could expire. whilst it lingers, you cannot pass on.

And yet, your soul does not return as it should.

In time, your body will die unless you can return to it. "

The Old Man glanced about the cargo hold, taking in each Space Marine in turn.

"They are strong. scarred, but untainted by what happened.

But you were at the epicenter of all this."

The Old Man gazed sternly at Atash.

"Show me what happened. "

Atash watched as the figure materialised in a glimmer of blue, then frowned at his words. "Cast out? What, then, is keeping me from returning?" But before he could consider it any further, or attempt to return anyway, the figure demanded to know what had happened.

At first, Atash baulked at the order. This old man wasn't one of his battle-brothers - he wasn't even someone he knew, and Atash had little reason to trust him. But some instinct warned him that it would be unwise to disobey - and there was something vaguely familiar about his aura, a similarity that Atash thought he recognised. He hesitated, taking some time to carefully assess the figure standing before him.

Finally, Atash gave a short, sharp nod. "Very well." He focused his will, marshalling his own mental defences, then settled into the familiar pattern of recall and communication. This was far from the first time that he'd had to report in this fashion, though it was his first time doing so with anyone outside his chapter.

The memories flowed smoothly from scene to scene, precise and disciplined, everything that Atash had seen and heard and sensed. First from the assault out of the drop pod and into the building, to the initial retreat of what remained of the defenders. The feeling of growing, gathering psychic power, inexperienced and barely controlled, and how Atash had pinpointed the source on the floor above. The use of the melta bomb to eliminate said source from beneath, and the exposure of the psyk-lab on the floor below. The pursuit of the remaining defenders up to the roof, and the attempts to shoot down the escaping Valkyries.

The appearance of the chaos spawn on the roof, artificially augmented and enhanced - and the moment everything had gone wrong.

The way Atash had automatically reached to the empyrean to call forth cleansing flame, only to find the veil between reality and the warp far thinner than he had expected. The backlash of energy, even as he'd tried to shut down the link and seal the gap. The feeling of something monstrous ripping the hole even wider from the other side and stepping through, revealing itself to be a prince of daemons - one that Atash had recognised, and that had recognised him in return.

"Kneel before me, son of Magnus! Give yourself over to me, and you shall be spared!"

"Never!"

The ensuing battle, the daemon's strikes so fast that Atash had barely managed to keep up, desperately dodging or parrying. The shots from Tarik and Lance and Rainer that had, for the most part, dissipated against the daemon's warp shield, save for a blast from Rainer's multi-melta that had taken the daemon's right leg off - to little effect. The blow to Atash's head that had sent him staggering and nearly driven him to his knees before he recovered, only his helmet saving him from more serious injury. The single strike he'd managed to land on the daemon in return, scoring its unnatural flesh but failing to do further damage.

The daemon starting to cast some unknown psychic power, only for Atash to shut it down before it could be completed. The daemon's rage at being denied, and its renewed attacks, even faster than before, fuelled by its anger, driving Atash back and back. Pain, and the desperate attempt to avoid the final strike that had sent him plummeting off the edge of the roof.

Then falling, and agony, and darkness.

The retelling took only a fraction of the time that had actually passed, but by the end of it, Atash's astral self was trembling with weariness from reliving the events. "That's what happened," he said tiredly after a moment to collect himself. "I made a grave mistake that I should never have made in the first place. I should have known that the warp would be destabilised from everything that had already happened. The fault is mine."

As the events unfolded, The Old figure observed.

Mostly, he would watch silently, but now and then he would ask Ash to stop, repeat, proceed. He would ask as a Scholar would ask a student under review. To clarify something, or point out something of subtle import. Always asking, but never waiting for an answer, just letting the implications settle.

The landing, and how the drop pods scanners missed the more optimal landing zone on the top floor. "Does not that seem an incredible target to miss?"

The actual landing, and the ensuing massacre. "This was no private gathering. Yet it was not in the brief. How was it missed if not hidden? How could it be hidden if they did not know you were coming?"

The reaction time of the storm troopers. "15 second's to deploy and react. Is that normal for mortals to react to a shock assault so swiftly?"

The lab. "Could you not sense the psychic activity? Curious, wouldn't you say?"

And at the annihilation of the Lord, The Old man Actually Laughed. "That, i would applaud. But you may have simply traded one evil for another. Look closely, Reality is now thin in this place. Schemes like this are beyond the ken of mortals, He was a pawn, posing as a king. Where is the master?"

The vision continued, and finally came to the roof top fight. The Old man's Ethereal form became indistinct, its vaporous form gliding over and around the massive form of the summoned monstrosity. He studied the Ruinous sigils adorning the traitor, and as he did, he would censor them. Editing the memory to make them indistinct, and vague. He did this also for the beasts words and sounds. And as he did, like a lecturer, he explained. "The Ruinous powers are insidious in all things, but beings like this more than others. There are spells in every facet of this creature. Ones that madden, and haunt, and not all do so imminently. In time, we should work on properly erasing these memories."

The Old figure took again his more corporal form, and looked sternly down at Atash. "Thank you, for the Clarity. You have helped yourself well, and your brothers more." He paused, as if considering his next words. "However, the danger yet presented by you cannot be underestimated. Come."

With that command, The old figure stepped to the edge of the roof, overlooking the courtyard where the drop pod stood, surrounded by blood and smoke as it was. With a gesture, he beckoned Atash to rewind the memory, but he also exuded a measure of his own will in the process. Doing so, he allowed Atash to witness from the rooftop as the drop pod ascended back into the sky, and the party took back on its original layout. "What do you See."

The layout of the party was much clearer than it had been in the drop pod. but more than that, the perspective was different. From hear, it was clear. The curved tables, seemingly random assortments of decorations. The very positioning of the lights, and the direction the banners themselves fluttered. It was a Symbol. Stylized, but definite.

The Mark of the Heralds of Change.

"What have you learned."

The pattern of questions and the feeling of student and teacher were familiar, almost comforting, and Atash settled easily into the routine. He considered each of the old man's queries carefully, even as the memories continued playing out and the next question was asked.

And as realisation grew with every question, so did Atash's anger. Anger at the weak-willed humans who had turned from the Imperium and succumbed to the lure of Chaos, anger at the circumstances that had sent himself and his squad down here in the first place, anger at the daemon prince that continued to haunt his chapter. But mostly, anger at himself for missing what now seemed blatantly obvious.

He followed the old man to the edge of the roof, rewinding the memory as commanded. The sight of the hated symbol on the rooftop below made his astral self suddenly flicker with a halo of ethereal fire as his anger flared anew. He had to take some time to calm himself and rein in his fury before he could answer the old man. The ethereal flames gradually receded, but didn't disappear entirely.

"This whole thing was a set-up, a trap," he replied flatly, the edges of his aura still flickering. "They were expecting this attack, knew it was coming down to the hour, maybe even the minute." He shook his head. "We were not adequately prepared - I was not adequately prepared. We did not have all the information we needed before we launched, and that is a mistake I should know better than to ever make in the first place."

The Old man nodded. "Worse yet, you knew it was a trap."

Memory's replayed, Atash and his brothers refusing the support of their Fellow Astartes, opting instead for more disposable Servitors.

"The decision of when and how to deploy was foolish. And whoever was in command will pay, for your fellow chapters wrath will see to that. But missing so many signs. Only You, of all your brothers could read the signs."

The scene changed, drawing back to the desert plane. The only signs of civilization the glint of glass and steel on the horizon, and a black and white marble tile grid on the ground. Atash on one side, the Old man on the other.

"It was their game, and they won. The practical you lost, now analyse the theoretical. Find your weakness, and their strengths."

As he said this, the large grid filled with figures, showing its purpose as a Massive regicide board.

One side, closer to Atash, was populated by his brothers ally's on Sothis. The other side, an amalgamation of monsters and daemon Astartes.

"First, What was the source of your defeat?"

Atash blinked as the scene changed without warning and he found himself back in the familiar desert. He watched the harsh sun glittering off the silver spires in the distance for a long moment, then turned his attention back to the old man's words and the regicide board between them.

As the board filled with figures, Atash regarded them intently, his brow furrowed in thought. He considered the old man's question in light of all the information he now had at hand. As he did so, the shimmering flames of his aura flickered and faded away as his temper cooled. Finally he let out a heavy breath, almost a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the figures arrayed across the board.

"I was the source," Atash replied, his voice quiet and subdued. "I was given lead of the mission, but I was unprepared for it. I did not see what needed to be seen." He shook his head. "Even so, the mission was still mostly on track until the flesh beast appeared on the roof - and I made my biggest error. I reacted immediately, without first considering the entire situation. My rash reaction caused the breach in the warp... and I was not strong enough to correct my mistake."

Atash straightened, squaring his shoulders, and looked back up at the old man on the other side of the board. "My weakness is my inexperience and rashness. The first can only be improved in time - and is no real excuse anyway - but the second... that is a fault I can work to correct."

"And work you will."

The Figure made his first move, lining up a defense.

"Let us begin with the mission."

The Old Man seemed to contemplate for a moment, and let the memory's of the mission ghost upon the horizon.

"Forget your role as leader. You were not prepared, true, but you did not assign yourself that mantle.

Look at the mistakes you actually made. Were you to go into a similar situation now, could you fare any better? I should think not, not yet at least.

Make your move, then let us see if you can tell me how they bested you.

Not your team, You personally. "

Atash nodded at the old man's words and studied the board closely, pacing up and down along the board's edge. He mentally replayed his memories of the mission several times over, considering his team's every move and his own role within it. Finally he made his own opening move, probing the old man's defences not for a weakness, but for more information.

"We, as a team, made several mistakes. I can see now how I could most likely correct or prevent such mistakes in the first place - but those are not what you refer to here." He shook his head and stared at the board again. "Even my rashness in attempting to use my abilities on the rooftop is a mistake that I now can prevent myself from making again, as long as I keep my calm." He looked back up at the old man with a faint, wry smile. "As difficult as that sometimes is for me personally, it is still something well within the realms of my training and abilities."

The smile faded as he dropped his gaze back to the board again - where the daemon prince had not yet made an appearance. "My main error - one that is mine alone - was allowing the daemon to come into play at all." He began pacing again. "While such a situation could be avoided simply by not using my psychic abilities in the first place... that is not always going to be a viable option. Abstaining from the use of those abilities for fear of what might happen is not the answer." He scowled down darkly at the pieces on the board, though his gaze, for the moment, was focused elsewhere. "The Edict of Nikea showed how good of an idea that was."

The Old Man gave a look of surprise at the reference to the Edict. His astonishment quickly shifts to an almost amused smirk.

"There is much that could be said about That. I will not deny that - although the Emperor was never able to redact the edict, His son's choice in doing so was wise. But had the Edict never been forsaken in the first place.. well, then we may live in a very different age, one way or another.

Hindsight is 20/20, or so they say. And look at where the perpetrator of that crime lies now. "

The Old Man let the figures on the board move according to his will and plan, showing respect and the odd idle comment on Atash's own probing stratagem.

"Alas on my question, you still miss the point. You stick too closely to your.. Chapters motto. "Knowledge is Power" Correct?

But knowledge is useless without the wisdom to wield it, and that you yet lack and cannot learn in books or scrolls.

You Knew it was a trap.

You Knew who was setting it.

You and your brothers Knew everything you needed to.

Your Brother even shares your own Axiom, yet still your foreknowledge amounted to naught. "

The old man stopped, his hand absently stroking the scars of his old augments at a taught.

"No.. Not Nothing. You refused aid. With that, you quite possibly saved many from sharing your fate.

None the less, try again, how did they beat you."

The Old Man awaited as Atash took his next few moves and took his own in turn. The match took on no clear winner, both sides cautious calculated approach seeming quite even.

"The Edict was a mistake that should never have happened," Atash muttered, low and bitter. "That it was eventually redacted does not make up for the fact that it was enacted in the first place." He took a breath as if to say something more, then apparently thought better of it. His mouth snapped closed and his expression smoothed out as he forced his attention back to the figures on the board.

He was silent for a while, considering both his next move and the old man's words. "Knowledge is power," he agreed. "And you are right in that it needs wisdom as well - and that I am still lacking much of said wisdom! - but wisdom is also knowledge in its own right, so the axiom still stands." He finally made his move on the board, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"As for your question..." Atash began pacing once more, though slower than before. "... For all our foreknowledge - and theirs - they beat us by doing something we were not expecting, not prepared for. Something I believe even they had not actually planned for. It was... an attack of opportunity. My mistake provided the opportunity, Kharriaz took advantage of it, exploited it, and I failed to counter him." He let out a huff of frustration. "I was not strong enough, or fast enough, or knowledgeable enough to prevent him from materialising."

"Wrong."

The Old man made his move, dynamically shifting the power of the game. Units that seemed safe were suddenly exposed, and the gaps in the mans defenses unreachable without unreasonable sacrifices.

The man fell back into his Scholarly tone.

"Firstly, That is not what i asked. You were right, i believe however, in that they were not prepared for you to draw power from the same pool as your enemy. So that has no draw on how they were outplaying your team. Put that aside and look harder."

Having finished his lecture, he took a much harder look down upon Atash, his gaze turning stony, yet not in a hostile way.

More like an Adult, looking upon a child who has said something foolish.

"Wisdom, is in part, the knowledge of not knowing. In the edict you show very little wisdom. Think of who enacted it, you think you or any of your masters know better than he did? What Wisdom did the rest of the Fifteenth and its master posses that lead them to where they are.

What can we know of why the Emperor saw fit to enact the Edict, what works were undone by those that broke it. "

The old figure relaxed, a wave of melancholy taking hold.

"We cannot know what His plans were, that knowledge is lost to time now. But with Wisdom can conclude He does nothing without Cause. We can infer much we do not know with wisdom.

Know, and remember this however - Young Son of Prospero. It was by convincing Horus that the Emperor was at fault, that he had Abandoned his crusade to the like of politicians, that he fell from Grace. That is the lure of Chaos."

Atash's eyes widened as the balance of power on the board suddenly shifted. He began studying the layout intently, trying to figure out what he had missed, where he had gone wrong.

But as the old man continued talking, Atash's attention snapped away from the board and back to him, especially as the Fifteenth was mentioned. The other man's words made Atash's temper flare anew, and he was again wreathed in ethereal flame, flickering red and orange and white and gold. "You are right in that we do not know all of the reasons why he enacted the Edict," he growled, glaring at the old man with narrowed eyes. "And therein lies the problem. All we know is that those we considered - trusted - as brothers spoke against us, out of hatred and jealousy and superstition and fear borne from ignorance - we who have always been loyal, always given our all to build and protect the Imperium in the name of the Emperor. All we know is that we were judged unworthy by the one who made us as we are, ordered to cease using the abilities that he had given us in the first place!"

Behind him the sky had darkened rapidly, the silver spires in the distance disappearing beneath black clouds of smoke and ash. The desert plains were darkening as well, turning black and grey and glassy, silently echoing his growing fury. Atash didn't seem to notice, his gaze still fixed unblinkingly on the old man as he continued without pause. "All we know is that the Wolves were unleashed upon the Fifteenth, upon Prospero - the Wolves we had fought alongside as battle-brothers, sent to annihilate not just our Legion and our Primarch but our people, our libraries, our home. All we know is that our Legion were not lured to Chaos, they did not fall - they were driven there by the very ones they would have otherwise fought alongside with against Horus's forces!"

Atash shifted his stance, the now-black sand crunching beneath his boot. The very air around him shimmered with the force of his emotions and his conviction, even as he struggled to get himself back under control. "And all you know about the Edict, about the Heresy, about my Primarch and my Legion, is whatever "information" has survived  over the past ten thousand years, edited and chopped and changed to suit the Imperium's needs. All you know about the Emperor has been filtered through an entire millennium - so you have no right to judge me when I say that the Emperor, for all his knowledge and wisdom and power, was still human, and still capable of making mistakes. Perhaps the Edict was one of them, perhaps not, we will never know for sure - but the Emperor did make mistakes, because if he had not, the Heresy would never have happened!"

He staggered then, nearly falling as pain and exhaustion caught up to him, the flames wreathing him flickering and dying. But somehow Atash managed to stay on his feet, still glaring with just as much intensity at the old man. "So you - whoever the hell you are. You remember this. My brothers and I - we have already been tried, we have been tested, we have been lured and tempted, and yet we have still chosen to remain steadfast and loyal to an Imperium that we helped to build - an Imperium that would sooner see us all dead. For all that we may believe the Emperor made mistakes, we still respect him and remain loyal - we remain his sons of the thousand." He took a deep breath to steady himself, and when he spoke again his voice, though faint with fatigue, was flat and cold. "So do not ever dare to compare myself or my brothers to that traitor."

Seeing the game was won, the Old Man made his final move, and reset the board.

"That is exactly who i Must Compare you to."

He fixed Atash with his Gaze, studying his reaction closely.

"You are right. The Emperor was Human, at least once, more or less, and still is, in the ways that matter most. He made mistakes, He entrusted the fate of the Imperiam to a flawed being. Hubris. Pride. Sins of character you should look out for, Young Brother."

The old man sat, and waited to see if his point would sink in, if the Younger Astarte's temper would Flare or Cool, and waited to see Atash's opening moves.