The Divine Rite: A Warhammer 40,000 Fanfiction

Part 4

Those shackled by the weight of suffering must have someone they are saving from it, else it is worthless. This is why innocence is precious. This is why naivety is a luxury rather than a weakness. If all the Imperium toils, if all of humanity suffers, then that suffering is worthless, for it preserves nothing of value. The soldier who fights so that his family back home might prosper in safety and comfort, that has meaning. Those who die so complete strangers need not, that is a real sacrifice.

Those who perish for the Emperor, for an empty shell who cares not for their pain, their death is a waste.

You all know the galaxy is not as it should be. The restrictions, the oppression, the chains.

The war.

The ruin.

The death.

The despair.

These are all far too familiar to you, to everyone, when they should be the rare exception in an otherwise happy existence.

In this, my own life was singularly blessed for a long time. I was far from the civilized borders of the Imperium, far from their sight. Latigia IV was spared the iron fist of Imperial rule, but so too was it lacking any defenses. Were any of the innumerable threats in our galaxy to turn their eyes upon my people, we would have perished.

And whatever they would have you believe, not one Imperial would have mourned us.

Fortunately no such threat emerged, and we prospered, even with their faith foisted on us. Yet our spirits were dead. However we went through the motions, however we tried to believe, our faith was a hollow one, built upon lies. Why, Lorgar himself wrote much of the faith spouted by the Ecclesiarchy, and he is one of the most denounced and reviled heretics of all time. This hypocrisy is just one of many.

I offer you all the path I chose myself all those years ago. As my powers awakened and I became that which I had preached against all my life, I was forced to change. Here, now, I offer you the path I chose myself, or the one you are presently on, which I was forced from. Stay with your Imperium, we shall leave here soon enough, and keep wasting your life toiling for those who will never care.

Or find freedom and purpose in Chaos. The Word Bearers will show you the way, will shelter you from the storms of the universe.

And this fortress is free of both shackles, and chains.

*****

The panic of my parents was assuaged easily, the assurance that it had been no more than a fall readily accepted. The thump of my body hitting the wall had startled them, but once again they seemed fully unaware of all sights, sounds, and sensations associated with my visions. Visions I could no longer pretend were a fluke, and no longer believed came from the Emperor.

They returned to their routines, mild admonishments spoken with relief. They thought all was well, just a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness from their otherwise graceful daughter. Nothing to worry about. No need to panic.

I fully disagreed.

I lay in bed that night, mind churning with rationalizations, with excuses, even with what I recognized at the time to be flat out lies. There was no avoiding it though, no getting around it, and eventually my mind spiraled to the one conclusion I could reasonably arrive at, however horrifying the implications might be.

I was a psyker.

Fear of psychic powers had been drilled into all Latigians from birth. Those who possessed them were evil incarnate, walking damnation, waiting to infect those around them. Their very existence was dangerous, not just because of their unnatural abilities, but because any second a demon could sense that psychic signature in the Warp. If that happened, the ravening beasts of the Immaterium would boil out, devouring the world and all upon it, along with their souls.

But I didn’t feel like doom personified.

I didn’t feel any different at all.

Uncertain whether that was a good sign, or proof of my thorough corruption, I dragged myself out of bed the following morning. It took incredible effort to shuffle through my duties, ignoring the lack of sleep and my constant worry both, but somehow I managed. I did so well in fact, that not a single person from among my flock commented on what I was certain would be a visibly harried demeanor.

My facade successful, that night I strolled to the river once more, this time intending to bathe quickly and collapse into bed. Surely I was exhausted enough to sleep this time? Then again, given that my waking thoughts were filled with horrific speculation, perhaps slumber would be scant comfort. When your waking mind is plagued with nightmares, sleep tends to lose some of its appeal. Even the gently rolling river, the sound always soothing, failed to cheer me up.

Given the fugue I was in, it was little wonder I didn’t notice my company until I had already started to undress.

“Good evening, Katherine.” Marcus greeted, making me nearly jump out of my skin. My robe already in hand, once again clad in only my undergarments, I turned a harsh glare on him. While seeing each other in various states of undress was commonplace, spying was most certainly not. However, I found him studiously studying the stars, facing directly away from me. “My apologies for intruding once again, but you seemed rather preoccupied with your tasks today, and I had no other opportunity to approach you.”

“Supplicants and other faithful are always welcome to approach me.” Katherine replied dutifully, though she was just a little cross. It was a delight to see him, but speaking required energy and enthusiasm she lacked after such a long day.

“Ah, but this is no matter of faith. It is a matter of heart and of honor.” He replied, holding a hand out to the side. Still unwilling to turn and look at me, he stayed put, and so I approached instead, his eyes still locked on the night sky. “It is a minor trinket, ivory from a razorbull, but I wanted your permission to carve it into your semblance. I have some minor skill, and am certain I could do you justice. But such an intimate piece of art is not something I’d take the liberty of beginning without consent.”

It was one of the most formal methods of courtship that existed on Latigia, and I found my cheeks burning scarlet. It was romantic in a way that few bothered with any longer. The forward admittance of attraction. The request to render the object of their affection into some kind of artwork. It required courage to be so open. Modern courtship tended to be fairly open of course, but also much more forward and to the point, focused on physical aspects.

In a way, his choice of courtship method also displayed his interest went beyond the physical, and I’m not ashamed to say I was quite swept up in the moment.

“I would be flattered.” I replied, utterly sincere. He beamed. I don’t know how I could tell from the back of his head, but something about the facial muscles must have given it away. “Though I know you have more than ‘a small talent’. I expect nothing less than utter perfection from a craftsman of your skill.”

As I spoke, the word wavered into shadow. The reflected light on the river became incandescent eyes, burning with color. The stars overhead were bleached a dull gray this time, all vitality gone from their twinkling. Only the moon was the same as it was during my first vision, a gaping, oil slick maw of endless hunger, an unclean sheen gleaming from its surface. Wrath roared to me that he was mine, and any others who looked upon him should die by my hand. Treachery hissed that it was a ploy, a maneuver to gain standing for himself by associating with me. Kinship rejoiced alongside my heart, that another would desire to know me so completely.

Lasciviousness, she was quiet this time, a blessed relief since her voice tended to be the loudest. Marcus’ parting words were lost to me in the chorus, but he seemed pleased, and so I was also. I watched his departing back, eyes roaming hungrily over the rippling muscle there. His shoulders, his arms, all of him was lean and toned by endless hiking to gather useful supplies for the village.

And as I watched, Lasciviousness watched with me, and in my heart I felt that oil-slick maw open, mirroring the one above, and both it and I were voracious.

It brought a predatory smile to my lips.