Morgan, my daughter.
You are a failure.
The voice echoed in her mind, like waves crashing against a cliff.
The infant in the cabin furrowed her brows, immersed in a dream, a real dream.
She could feel that, at the very beginning, she was in an empty container, surrounded by cold nutrient fluid and infusion tubes, needles piercing the back of her hand, kneading her flesh and spirit at will, transforming her into a shape that pleased her creator.
“Morgan…”
Someone was calling her.
“Failure.”
The voice concluded mercilessly, followed by the most intense pain, thousands of sharp edges tearing at her heart, she curled up, struggling helplessly.
Then came the storm, she could hear the constantly changing mad laughter within the storm, and that angry roar, she only felt herself swept away by the storm, wandering in a void day after day, year after year, until finally falling somewhere.
She didn't know how much time had passed after that, but the sounds of war and slaughter came through with unusual clarity at some point, it was a crazy internecine conflict, she could hear entire Legions fighting and destroying each other around her, until no sound came through anymore.
So, she closed her eyes and continued to sleep.
Until the vilest one visited from the stars.
“Are you sure it’s here, Chief Priest?”
The vanguard carefully stepped onto the cracked earth, by the Emperor, he might be the first human to set foot in such a remote, desolate place in thousands of years.
The MK II Power Armor's temperature regulation system roared due to the gusts of wind between the dark clouds, the vanguard looked up and found that the next downpour was imminent.
“Looks like we have to be quick, who knows what the weather is like in this cursed place.”
“It won’t be too bad.”
The scribe was the second to disembark, adjusting his weapon, his gaze first lingering on the distant horizon for a moment, then returning to the ground, searching for potential paths and dangers.
Behind him followed two Legion recruits, looking left and right, maintaining the most standard alert posture.
“According to the Rogue Trader’s exploration log, there is a high possibility of traces of a few xenos civilizations here, rather than worrying about the weather, we should worry about attackers.”
As soon as the scribe finished speaking, a recruit tilted his head towards him.
“Sir, then why don’t we assemble an exploration team? According to the Legion codex, exploring a xenos world with an unknown intelligence level requires at least…”
“At least 50 soldiers, one warship, and written permission from two high-ranking officers, I know, rookie, I’m the one responsible for teaching these regulations.”
The scribe intimately patted a recruit’s shoulder plate, then smiled at the other: “Trust me, desperate times call for desperate measures, this is permitted.”
Such perfunctory words obviously couldn't convince anyone, but it was at this moment that the priest descended.
The priest was a tall and dangerous figure, his broad jaw, deep-set eyes, and face covered in scriptures were chilling, merely a glance made the recruits lower their heads in awe.
The priest narrowed his eyes, like a wild fox that had just had a full meal, he first smugly enjoyed this awe for a while, then slowly walked towards the depths of the dense forest.
“Be careful, rookies.”
Behind him, the scribe smiled reassuringly at the two excellent consumables beside him.
“Erebus the Priest’s temper isn’t exactly good.”
This was the age of rising.
Accompanying the final whimper of the old empire, the tide of chaos and madness had surged in the galaxy for too long, and now, with a series of unquestionable commands, new forces, new wills, and new Legions would crush them one by one, and another magnificent giant was forging his own glorious chapter with steel and flame.
This was the revival of miracles, the Nirvana of the phoenix, an immortal monument erected with countless efforts and sacrifices, every victory and conquest adding luster to this legendary story.
The Great Crusade had begun.
The Emperor's will came from Holy Terra, transforming into boundless Legions and fleets, interrogating every corner of the galaxy, lost lands were reclaimed, resistance was crushed, and the conqueror's banner spread like a plague.
Speculators, ambitious individuals, and the vile all shed tears of emotion for this magnificent scene, they were pleasantly surprised to find that in the waves stirred up by war, there were countless opportunities and treasures to be discovered…
“To be plundered…”
Erebus whispered, xenos skeletons and spirits piled up into hills beneath his feet.
“By the Emperor, what on earth happened here?”
Behind him, the recruit marveled at everything before his eyes, this was a royal court built of white bones, staining the muddy ground like a snowfield, the fragments of those bones resembled human ones, but their skulls mercilessly revealed their xenos identity.
“These are Aeldari bones, probably thousands of them.”
The scribe sorted through pieces of pendants and ornaments, carefully distinguishing them.
“This is Aeldari… Jes… Jeswarr… Craftworld.”
“This barbed whip looks more like an instrument of torture.”
“What’s this? …Is it a mask for a performance?”
The scribe conducted his exploration with great interest, even straying a bit from the team, his eyes soon caught sight of some larger beast skeletons, mixed with some Aeldari remains, clearly, in their last moments, these xenos were either fighting terrifying behemoths or fighting alongside them.
Finally, he discovered something interesting, it was a communication device, after fiddling with it for a while, a final voice message floated out:
“Ilyil, I really don’t understand why we have to fight here, this isn’t defending the Craftworld, our kin in the galaxy are already so few, yet we still have to kill each other here.”
“Watch your attitude, Yossie, the seers have received a prophecy, that thing on this world will destroy us, so we must destroy it first.”
“Our wild kin won’t agree, that thing has already merged with their World-Soul, and so have those Harlequins, they want to take it away.”
“So, we fight for this… Careful! Those scourges from Commorragh are killing their way over…”
The words stopped abruptly, followed by chaotic gunshots and battle cries, then, wails.
It was thousands of intertwined wails, chaotic, terrifying, as if thousands of souls were being torn out alive by some force.
The scribe frowned, he threw away the device, clapped his hands, and quickly caught up with the team, returning to his rear guard position, he lowered his head under Erebus the Priest’s displeased gaze, then continued his duties: adjusting his muzzle and watching the two lovely recruits.
The team advanced, Erebus closed his eyes, muttering to himself, letting the eight-pointed star carving tightly held in his palm lead him to the deepest part of the battlefield, where stood a towering ancient tree, incredibly tall and majestic, yet it was on the verge of death, just like this world.
The folly of prophecy.
The internecine conflict of kin.
The shrieks of souls.
It’s coming… almost there.
An ominous light appeared in his palm, Erebus revealed a satisfied smile, he stepped into the ancient tree, in the shadows, he saw the precious relic, wrapped layer upon layer by withered vines.
The last step…
The blurred whispers of the gods flashed through his mind, which made Erebus even more convinced that his piety had been rewarded.
The blood of betrayal.
Erebus turned his head, and with his gaze, the scribe mercilessly pulled the trigger.
With two gunshots, the recruits widened their eyes and fell, one after another, they would certainly die, because only their muzzles were not aimed at their comrades.
The vanguard also raised his weapon, he aimed at the recruits' heads, one shot each, ensuring no future trouble.
Even Erebus's mind pondered upon seeing this scene: this time, what kind of excuse would he have to fabricate?
After a brief moment of distress, excitement once again seized the vile one’s heart, he drew his short blade and smeared the flowing blood onto the withered vines.
Behind him, the vanguard examined the two gradually cooling bodies, then suddenly turned to the scribe.
“You say… does the Emperor truly know what we’re doing?”
“If he truly knew, we’d have died countless times already.”
The scribe merely yawned lazily.
Awaken.
This was the first time.
In the Chief Priest’s excited gaze, the final protective measures broke layer by layer, the world let out an irreversible wail, and then came the sound of collapsing in the Soul Sea.
He saw it, it was a private paradise where metal and wooden vines intertwined, a strong fortress protecting a valuable relic, and also the gods’ blessing upon him.
Through the faint metal crack, he saw that pair of light eyebrows, it perhaps belonged to an infant.
It seemed he needed a knife and fork, preferably one that could cut through soft flesh and sinew, so he wouldn't chip his teeth while enjoying the blessing.
Awaken!
This was the second time.
Erebus continued his shriek, the sound like the grating scrape of blades rubbing against each other, making the Soul Sea boil, echoing again and again in the sleeper’s ears.
He saw those eyebrows slowly furrow, as if a peaceful good dream was shattered, newborn branches enjoying the morning light, only to be shaken by an unreasonable cold wind.
Erebus smiled, he continued.
Awaken!!
This was the third time.
Even the birds in the sky fell due to this hoarse roar, the Soul Sea surged, the vanguard and the scribe tightly covered their ears, their heads felt like they were bouncing around inside their helmets.
The light eyebrows were tightly twisted together, their owner was still resisting, still futilely trying to remain in the wonderful illusion, rejecting the coldness of reality.
Erebus quieted down, he no longer roared, he waited patiently, until the waves of the soul calmed down from their frenzy, until the entire world seemed to become peaceful because of it.
He waited, until the light eyebrows in his vision slowly stretched from their tight distortion, finally flattening completely, clearly, the dream had descended once again.
The Chief Priest curled his lips, feeling genuine joy for his next action, he transformed his voice into a pure shriek, into a sound wave spear capable of piercing any brain.
This was the last time.
Awaken!!!
Finally, that thing opened its eyes.
She woke up.
The slaughter began.
The first to fall was the vanguard.
This veteran had just recovered from his dizziness, meticulously appreciating the astonished expressions of the two dead men with an incredibly mocking attitude, this was his terrible hobby, but then, the Astartes' superhuman senses made him realize something.
“Priest!”
He shrieked, but before the call for help was completed, an unseen force struck from the void, first the head, then the chest, arms, and legs, this heavy warrior was pulled into mid-air, crushed inch by inch, like a squeezed milk carton, blood splattering heavily onto the ground.
The scribe watched all this in horror, but soon felt a cold wind pass through his body, he struggled to lower his head, only to see blood flowing from his knees, and then came the biting pain.
Erebus’s gun muzzle smoked, he glanced at his trusted subordinate, whose knee he had personally shot through, causing him to be pulled by an unseen large hand and torn to shreds, then he turned and ran wildly.
He ran faster and faster, more and more urgently, he desperately ran through the dense forest and over bones, the strong wind brought a tearing sound to his ears, his flying speed even surprised himself.
Faster and faster, further and further, faster and faster, higher and higher, faster and faster, and…
Wait?
He finally reacted.
Erebus lowered his head, only to see a shattered corpse lying in the most inconspicuous corner, from head to abdomen, from arms to toes, every inch had been pulverized by some violent great force.
He even felt that the corpse looked a little familiar.
Then, he realized, it was himself.
Erebus's soul couldn't help but look around blankly, then, he felt pain, not physical pain, but spiritual, his soul was being torn by an angry, violent force, like a hurricane devouring clouds.
Before he could shriek, this vile little thing was casually crushed, like a stinking bug accidentally stepped on, unremarkable.
In the last moment, he only realized that the blurred sounds in the void were becoming clear, he realized it was boundless mockery, he only realized that this was not a blessing, not even a gaze.
It was just mockery.
Morgan awoke.
She was woken up.
Therefore, she was very annoyed, and a little bewildered.
Memories surged like floodwaters, scattering her orderly mind, she vaguely recalled some violent sounds, the screams and roars of thousands of lives, and then her displeased shriek, and then those sounds disappeared.
She began to move her limbs, but found them fragile and stubby, after some attempts, she barely managed to stand up.
She felt empty, curious, and hungry.
She was hungry, she needed to eat something.
The dreamlike memories appeared intermittently, guiding her to extend her consciousness, and a few ethereal bodies wandering in mid-air were easily grasped by her.
These are souls.
Her brain immediately told her so.
She had eaten them before, while she was still sleeping, she had eaten hundreds and thousands of the same things, but they didn't seem entirely consistent with the ones before her now.
She looked carefully, and found that among these five ethereal foods, one soul seemed particularly dirty and ugly, yet very appealing.
Driven by hunger, she still opened her mouth.
Hmm…
An unexpected delicacy.
