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Everqueen Reclamation - 44 (Draft 1)
🕑 Added 2024-11-02 12:54:02 +0000 UTCLeaving Isha behind in the labs to continue her study of the Fifteenth Legion, the Emperor withdrew to his private study.
He had made no changes to the decor, but it was more…comforting somehow, now that sunlight spilled through the windows and the blue sky was visible outside, rather than being choked by toxic clouds.
Settling into his chair, George pondered what to do next.
Between Isha’s request that they should empower the Astronomican together and the revelation of the lingering curse on the Fifteenth Legion, George needed some time to gather his thoughts before he reached out to Magnus. To decide how best to approach his son about this potential course.
Obviously, he would need to project himself to Prospero rather than Magnus projecting to Terra. The chances the boy would notice something wrong if he came here were too high.
But beyond that, George wasn’t sure what to do. It had been a long time since he had had children, and he had never had children like the Primarchs. Horus was one thing, but contact with Magnus was infrequent and short, due to how busy George was.
Perhaps it was time to do something he hadn’t done in a while.
A flick of his wrist tightened the wards around the study, to ensure no one would interrupt him. Then, he added a new veil so that even Isha wouldn’t be able to detect what he was about to do.
Closing his eyes, the Emperor breathed in deeply. Cracks of golden light spread across his skin like a spiderweb until he lit up in a blinding flare of light.
When the light faded, the Emperor was gone.
Instead, there were four people in the study.
One remained on the chair, a man in simple grey robes, a hood concealing his features, with only a seemingly endless void of shadows visible underneath. A shepherd’s crook was clutched in one skeletal hand, seemingly an unremarkable thing roughly hewn from wood yet radiating unmistakable power.
Standing next to the table was a knight, clad from head to toe in tarnished armour, a ragged crimson cape hanging from his shoulders. He was as tall and broad as the Emperor, and his face resembled that of the Master of Mankind…but it was a face much older. Weather-beaten and scarred, with a thick grey beard covering it, his long dark hair streaked with grey as well. Curiously, there were a few spots on his armour that seemed cleaner than the rest of it, tiny flecks of shining white on the otherwise blood-stained and mud-marked metal.
Above them, a golden eagle flew around the room before settling onto the shepherd’s shoulder. But at a closer glance, this was no ordinary bird. Not only was it twice as large as any ordinary eagle, it seemed to be carved entirely from metal, each feather a beautifully crafted masterpiece. Its talon glimmed like silver and its eyes were egg-sized rubies.
This was an eagle worthy of being called the king of birds…though it was so much more.
“We should dispose of the entire Fifteenth Legion,” The Knight began, immediately to the point. “Their curse may be infectious and if that happens, we risk losing the entire Legiones Astartes. It is an unacceptable risk to keep them alive.”
The Eagle cawed in annoyance. “Do not be so hasty,” It said. “We will dispose of them if necessary, but we should not rush ahead without gathering the proper information first.”
The Knight grunted in annoyance. “The Fifteenth are diseased. We should not take unnecessary risks. Why let the rot fester if we can simply cut it out?”
The Eagle scoffed. “You do not mean that,” It replied, pointedly looking at the flecks of white on the Knight’s armour. “Let us at least give Isha a chance to work on the curse.”
The Knight stiffened, before relaxing. “...very well.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” A new voice said from by the bookshelves. “Since this is a curse of Tzentech, this would be my speciality, no?”
The three Aspects of the Emperor turned to look at the speaker, the fourth of their number.
Snapping a book shut, she looked at them, black-painted lips twisting into a cruel smile. The woman had long golden hair and pale skin, with a startling, supernatural beauty…if not for her eyes. There was no iris or pupil visible, her eyes were voids of pure black, seemingly ready to swallow anyone who looked into them.
Putting the book she had been reading back on the shelf, the woman drifted towards them, her black robes swishing as she regally seated herself into the chair on the other side of the table.
The other three said nothing as the woman sat, watching them for a moment before she bared her teeth at them.
“How nice to see the three of you getting along,” she said, her voice as sweet as poison. “And you!” Her words were directed at the knight. “Look at you, some of that tarnish coming off, eh? How nice for you. But here I am, forgotten, only to be called up when needed.”
“Speak clearly, witch,” The eagle snapped, its wings bristling. “We have no time for games.”
The Witch sneered. “Fine. If you’re too stupid to understand, I’ll spell it out for you: I am part of us as much as the three of you, no matter how you wish to deny it. It was my mastery of science and sorcery that let us build the Primarchs, and then the Space Marines. Before we jump to executing the Fifteenth Legion, perhaps you three might consider that you should stop suppressing me except to draw on my knowledge and actually let me take a look at the Tzentech’s curse. I am our mystic aspect, am I not?”
“Never,” The Knight snarled. “You led our son to ruination by teaching him too much of the Warp. We will not allow it to happen again.”
The Witch’s hands clenched so hard that they drew blood. “You imbecile,” She snarled. “We are the same person. Do you think I do not feel the pain and regret for what happened? I do not intend to repeat our mistakes.”
The Knight placed his hand on his sword. “I will not let you ruin more of our children,” He said darkly.
“As opposed to you?” The Witch spat. “You’ll just turn them into perfect little weapons and then use them until they break or die.”
The Knight recoiled as though he had been slapped. “That is not my intent,” He thundered. “I only do what is necessary.”
“As if I do not?” The Witch snapped back. “If you have forgotten, you could not have made the Primarchs without me. Deny me, suppress me, choose to forget all you like. But I am as much as part of our whole self as you are, whether or not you acknowledge it.”
Before the Knight could respond, the Shepherd spoke for the first time, in a soft whisper that could have snuffed out worlds.
“Enough.”
The two subsided, glaring mutinously at each other. The Shepherd turned to the Eagle, gesturing for it to speak.
“You both raise fair points,” The Eagle said slowly. “We could not have made the Primarchs with you,” He told the Witch. “But as the Knight says, you led one of our children down the path of folly before.”
The Witch breathed in deeply, before responding in a tight, controlled voice. “As I said, I regret that. But do not forget: we all made that choice. I may have been dominant, then, but I was still only a part of us. You should know this well, given you kept me suppressed and asleep until recently. I have no intention of repeating that mistake, of teaching any of our children the secrets of the Warp. I only wish to see if I can unravel the curse.”
“Even so, you have changed since then,” The Eagle observed. “You are darker than you were then, angrier and colder.”
The Witch had not always been the Witch, after all. Once, she had simply been the Shaman.
The Witch let out an angry, humourless laugh. “You think I want to be like this? I don’t want this any more than he wants to be like that,” She gestured to the knight. “I remember when his armour was pure white when we had not soaked our hands in enough blood to drown armies. Our own regret and self-hate has made me like this, being suppressed has made me like this.”
The Eagle turned to the Knight, but the Knight said nothing. The Witch’s words seem to have struck a chord with him, and he traced a finger over one of the few spots of white on his armour, seemingly lost in thought.
The Eagle mulled it over, before deciding. “Very well,” He said. “A compromise, then. We will not let you speak directly to Magnus, but once we have done so, you may work with Isha on the Fifteenth Legion. Is that acceptable?”
The Witch scowled. “Fine,” She muttered.
The Knight also nodded slowly. “I will allow it.”
The Shepherd simply inclined his head.
“On to the next matter, then,” The Eagle said. “What about Isha’s request about the Astronomican?”
Silence lingered over the room, and no one answered immediately.
“I truly do not know,” The Knight said finally. “Both the rewards and the risks are high.”
“We would be binding ourselves to Isha even more tightly than we already have,” The Witch murmured, cupping her chin. “But she has not let us down so far. Yet, unlike the contract, if this goes wrong, we alone would not suffer the consequences.”
“All true,” The Eagle acknowledged. “But in the end, only one of us can truly make the decision.”
All eyes turned to the Shepherd.
“What say you, then? You are the part of us who will be most important to the Astronomican, to building an afterlife for mankind.” The Witch inquired, folding her arms.
For a long moment, the Shepherd said nothing. The ancient clock on the mantle ticked away quietly, the only noise in the room.
“Only our whole self can choose,” The Shepherd rasped finally, his voice no longer resonating with power but ghostly, almost ethereal.
“He is correct,” The Eagle sighed. “As long as we are plagued by indecision, it matters not. We have time to consider the matter, in any case.”
The Knight and the Witch nodded, though the latter somewhat reluctantly.
“Then this meeting is over,” The Eagle declared.
And then, in another golden flash of light, the four were gone, and the Emperor sat once more in his chair.
George grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. He never did enjoy splitting himself like that, but he would have to get used to it if he intended to split avatars while searching for the Primarch. It was one thing to maintain two avatars and one mind within a single solar system, but across interstellar distances, it was another matter.
He would need to decide which Aspect would go look for the Primarchs, and which one would remain behind on Terra.
For now, however, he needed to speak to his son.
Closing his eyes once more, the Emperor projected his will into the warp.
In the form of a golden beam of light, he pierced through the dark tides, searching for the luminous soul of his most psychically gifted son.
Isha’s presence was most immediately obvious, an ancient star steadily at work in the Imperial Palace. Malcador was holding court, a candle in the darkness yet all that much brighter for it.
And, there was Magnus, far in the distance. If Isha was a star and Malcador a candle, then Magnus was a bonfire, raw and untamed but burning ever so brightly.
The Emperor swam through the dark tides, cutting through the daemons and ignoring the furious gaze of the Four upon him.
He appeared inside a library, stacked with scrolls instead of books, with hieroglyphs painted on the walls. And with his nose buried in one scroll was Magnus, so absorbed that he hadn’t even noticed his father.
“Hello, my son,” George greeted warmly and Magnus’s head snapped up in shock. “It is good to see you.”
Comments
demonxenomorph1987
Nice chaper
Carl Gman
I like you using the fact that George/Big E is can have different aspects of himself and those aspects can act with independence and even voice their own opinions. Reminding us readers that He is actually a construct made by shamans sacrificing themselves to form Him.
