Chapter Text
Neither of the moons of Kaiphal IV had yet risen above the mountains, but the star-ladden sky above the planets southern hemisphere provided enough light for the eyes of a Space Marine. But even without light, the lonesome warrior who walked up the ridge would have found his way. He had walked the path hundreds of times, in the heath of the day as well as in the chill of the night, and therefore knew every stone and every bend. He walked steady and assuredly, paying little attention to the faint noises which the wind brought up from the plane. They were not unusual after all; the howling of jackals and the hoarse croaking of hunting salt-lizards. From time to time there was also a noise, which an unfamiliar listener might have mistaken for the clanking sound of metal clashing against metal; however it was merely the wind brushing through dry palm leaves.
The lone Space Marine stopped atop the ridge and looked skyward, taking a moment to admire the star constellations above him. There was the Marix, the Little Asp and the Big Asp; there the star cloud, which the tribes of Kaiphal IV called the "Spirit of the Emperor"; there the lonesome, reddish light of the planet Kaiphal V. It was still a little too early in the year to see the Hyrax or the Basilisk, but they would ascend soon.
The warrior made the sign of the Aquila and continued on his path, descending now into a small valley. His steps were still, steady, but his pace had quickened, for the sight of the eternal stars had roused unwanted feelings in his hearth and made him eager to reach the end of his journey. Becoming aware of this, he consciously slowed down, for he was about to tread on sacred ground, and it was improper to show haste in such a place. For down in the shady valley waited one of the oldest places of worship of the Imperial Creed on the planet. Here the desert tribes had gathered to listen to the voices of the first Imperial Missionaries and here they had erected, in arduous labor, titanic statues of the Imperial Saints of which the Missionaries had told them. Of course, as the culture of Kaiphal IV had become more urbane and their interpretation of the Creed more theologically sophisticated, the valley of the saints had diminished in importance. The city-dwellers now worshiped in Communion Houses and even the people who still lived in the desert, nowadays preferred the worship of small statues, which they could carry with them. The Space Marines chapter, whose fortress-monastery crowned the top of the highest peak in the mountains, still regarded the valley as a place of supreme importance. For one of the Saints who had been revered here, was the founder of their chapter.
The Space Marine reached the bottom of the valley, made the sign of the Aquila one more and bowed his head in reverence before the gigantic, archaic-looking statues. Then he slowly sank down on his knees and began to speak.
"Blessed Saints! I, Caius of the Anchorites, besiege you to allay my suffering! For three moons now, I am afflicted with a problem, which, according to the Apothecaries of my chapter, has no physical cause. I am healthy in body and spirit, yet there is something..."
"Let us kill, my brothers." the voice whispered "Let us kill, kill, kill, kill..."
It was a strange voice, malicious, yet at the same time oddly impersonal, haunting, but without any hint of personal involvement. The voice of a speaker who was familiar with the concept of "conviction", but had never experienced such a thing himself.
"It is not the voice of the traitor, nor the xeno, nor the heretic that whispers here." Caius thought "It is the darkness. The eternal darkness of the Void has been given a voice and speaks to me." He knew, of course, that this thought was but a feeble attempt at self-deception, for the Void was not a conscious entity. It was not at entity at all, just an empty space between the small specs of matter that made up the world of man. But besides that, the voice did not come from the outside. He had tried to shut it out, had tried to occupy his mind with other things, had even tried to cover his ears with his hands, but it was in vain. The voice was always there, always tempting, always mocking.
"Kill." the voice repeated "Let us kill, my brethren. Let us kill, kill, kill..."
"I am not your brethren." Caius murmured "I am Brother Caius Clemens Blagost of the Anchorites. I am a Battle Brother of the Fourth Company. I am a faithful servant of the Emperor, blessed be His name. I am..."
"You are nothing." the voice intercepted "You are nobody. We knew you before you acquired your meaningless names, and we shall know you when bear them no more. Let us kill, my brothers!"
"The Emperor is my strength." Caius said calmly. "His will is my law. His word is my nourishment. His..."
"Empty phrases! Nothing but empty phrases! You do not believe one word you are saying!"
"His war is..." Caius could not finish the sentence. A sudden, sharp pain in the left half of his brains struck him and before he could do so much as analyze the situation, he had fallen to the floor. His muscles cramped and he broke out in cold sweat, as a barrage of abominable sensations assailed his senses. The landscape around him had changed completely; the formerly serene mountains were alive with dancing shadows and rolling pillars of otherworldly fire; the statues of the saints suddenly shook, their noble faces twisting into grotesque masks of heathen lust and ravenous avidity. "Kill, kill, kill, kill" the voice whispered with tenfold intensity - and the giants, that had just a moment ago been saints, did just that. With spasming limbs and gaping mouths they started tearing and biting each other, further changing and mutating as they did so. Despite his revulsion, Caius noted that their movements seemed oddly stiff and ritualistic, as if this was a dance or a sacrifice, and not a deadly battle. He had no time to dwell on this, for suddenly a particularly foul-looking creature reached out for him and swallowed him whole.
To his utter astonishment, Caius found that he was flying through a vast emptiness. Visions of death and destruction assailed his consciousness, but they suddenly seemed distant and unimportant to him. He had forgotten his previous feelings of fear and horror, as well as many other things that had seemed important just a moment ago. Now, only his destination seemed important. For he sensed that there was a destination, a destination which a suppressed part of him knew very well, even if his conscious self dared not even imagine it. Vague pictures and emotions floated to the surface of his soul; there was a place which reeked of eternity, but it was a cramped and constricted eternity, as opposed to the black, liberating eternity of the Void. There was a tower which had countless entrances, but not a single exit. There was a voice; there was a seeker; there was a throne that walked and on that throne sat one, that was...
Caius entire being recoiled from the revelation. His conscious mind reasserted itself and covered the dreadful thing with which he had been confronted with merciful oblivion, but still the feeling of unbridled, existential horror remained. Caius screamed. His flight had turned into a rapid fall and his destination, for which he had felt a strange longing not one moment ago, now seemed like a place where nothing but death and destruction awaited.
Caius opened his eyes and found that an ascetic face was staring down on him with an expression of barely concealed sorrow.
"What...?" he said in a tone of utter bewilderment "Where...?"
"Be calm, Brother Blagost." answered Sargent Niketas Bogumilos "You are safe and secure in your cell in the Fortress-Monastery. I came to gather the squad for the Morning Gathering and found that your sleep was unruly. Forgive me, if I woke you too abruptly."
Caius took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Then he opened them again and smiled faintly. "It is me who has to beg forgiveness, Brother Sargent. I awake your concern with my nightmares and disobey the rules of our order through oversleeping. If you give me a moment, I will be with you presently."
"Are you sure, Brother? If you are not feeling well, you should..."
"I feel fine, thank you Brother Sargent. It was a nightmare, nothing more."
And with that, Caius stood up and began to prepare himself for the duties of the day.