"Are you ready, Sorcerer?"
I looked at the Dark Apostle opposite me. Chronos, formerly a Chaplain of the now renegade Sapphire Drakes, stood with his hands clasped. His skull helm had been discarded, the Space Marine now in favor of exposing his "true" face. In one hand, he held a tome. Behind him, two Chapter serfs lingered, dressed in black robes and murmuring prayers under their breath. The thick scent of incense flooded the chamber, several wisps emanating from the blazing braziers affixed to the back power plant of Chronos' armor.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded and affixed Chronos with an intense stare of my own. "Yes. Are you?"
"Whenever you are ready, you may begin."
The runes engraved into the surface of Chronos' sapphire blue armor glowed faintly, almost in anticipation of the ritual we were about to carry out. A low growl drew both of our glances to the side. Within the shadows, Noveno emerged, his mechadendrites writhing impatiently.
"Then let us hasten," he said, his voice distorted through the vox-grille in his helm. He thumped the blunt end of his thunder hammer against the ground, power tools and drills igniting to life as he ran one last check on the machine he had constructed for this purpose. "We do not have much time."
Trying not to sigh, I raised my force staff and tapped it against the formation that I had drawn over the floor. Fresh blood glistened, recently taken from sacrificed menials only too eager to offer the meager lives to the voracious entities that dwelled within the Great Ocean. Whispering the words of a language that was never meant for the tongue of man, I weaved an intricate spell. The air between us shimmered as I weakened the barrier between reality and the immaterium.
Already I could sense the primordial predators swimming in the endless depths of the Great Ocean. Like a shark who had caught a whiff of blood, a shoal of daemons streaked toward the weakening barrier. Among them was a single monstrosity, snapping its shapeless jaws and attempting to devour its rivals. The other lesser entities scattered, their fins torn, but they wisely kept their distance from the immense brute.
I say immense, but it was not size that I speak of. Such concepts were meaningless to the denizens of the Warp, for their forms were never fixed. The creature closest to us at times resembled a bodiless shark, a jaw filled with rows upon rows of sword-like teeth. Other times, a serpentine lamprey with a globular mouth. And the next instant, it appeared to have morphed into a draconic aspect with wings and claws, lashing out at the other daemons that continued to stalk them.
And stalk it they did, for they were bitter, vengeful things. The gods that ruled over the Great Ocean were fickle beings, after all. One moment they might abandon a favored patron and grant dark blessings to another. The hierarchy was far from being set in stone. The scheming creatures of the Warp would snatch at every opportunity to rise above their rivals, gleefully trampling upon the latter if they so much as displayed even a hint of weakness.
For now, though, the shifting monster was brimming with strength. Its anger, its hatred...its hunger was a volatile thing, bestowing upon its essence a primal power.
"Ah." Chronos smiled, his eyes glinting in triumph. "That one."
His fngers tightened upon the arcane tome he held. The grimoire was one that contained the names of Daemons, gathered from several hundred worlds sacrificed to the warp. Those damned planets now swirled aimlessly about in the Eye of Terror, domains of indomitable entities who warred incessantly against each other. It wasn't difficult to coax the true names of daemons out from their treacherous rivals. It was infinitely more difficult to leave safely after harboring such knowledge.
That was precisely how the Imperium ought to keep its citizens safe. Through the fragile shield of ignorance.
Whispering another incantation, I completed the spell and opened a portal between reality and the Great Ocean. The primordial predator closed in, gnashing its fangs ravenously. It had latched onto our scent and considered us prey. An illusion I had allowed it to see. To the Daemons, we psykers and witches were particularly appetizing meals, our minds ripe for them to gorge on. Perhaps it might attempt to inhabit my body and use me as a host after feasting upon my soul. Or maybe it would just devour my existence entire, both physical and spiritual.
Not that it mattered. It would fail to do either.
As the Daemon reached the portal, Chronos moved. He chanted an esoteric chain of words that sounded nonsensical. Yet each word contained power, saturating the air with a tense, almost electric tang. Hoarfrost began expanding over the usually hellish furnace, freezing over the dull fires that Noveno kept alight in his smithing chamber.
The words that Chronos uttered were part of the Daemon's true name, identified by the grimoire. It was also an entreaty to the Ruinous Powers, a pact that was sealed by the incantation.
Too late the Daemon halted, suddenly aware of the trap. Unfortunately, it had crossed the event horizon, the point of no escape. Chronos continued speaking, growing in confidence with each second, each syllable spoken. Silvery chains froze along the Daemon's shifting, churning form. No matter how it transformed, it was unable to slip out of the arcane restraints that coiled over it. Chronos' voice grew in volume, and the Daemon was dragged through the portal.
I caught a glimpse of thousands of eyes and teeth, melded and splitting from an ever-mutating mass of flesh, before Chronos directed the metaphysical shape into the mechanical shell that Noveno had fashioned. Hoarfrost expanded all over the metallic construct, and there was a thunderous wail that shattered workbenches and tools across the warpsmith's chamber. Without fliching, Chronos spat out the last words that bound the Daemon to a physical body in the material universe, fusing the immaterial essence with metal and ceramite. Plasma reactors blazed with daemonic fury, brought to life by the pulsating energy that was the Daemon's essence.
Amidst the shrapnel of warp-tainted metal and broken ceramite, Noveno worked fast. His mechadendrites moved in a blur, almost like the tentacles that the Daemon occasionally conjured. Setting the warding-chains over the spiky shape of his masterpiece, he ensured that the binding was permanent. Not only that, he prevented the newly forged Daemon Engine from lashing out at us. Already the Daemon was thrashing, pulling against glowing chains, each link inscribed with esoteric runes of a primordial language long dead. The metal glowed red-hot, steaming, and the Daemon within the metallic shell howled in agony.
For a while, it fell back on its haunches. It glared at us through a reptilian facade...three of them, in fact, for this was a Cerberus type Forgefiend. The three ectoplasma cannons that served as its heads glowed, superheated steam billowing from the vents. I could sense its resentment even as I closed the portal. On the other side, the other Daemons chittered and swam away in delight, amused at how one of their mighty brethren had fallen so low.
However, the newly forged Deamon Engine was unable to aim any of its ectoplasma cannons at us. Whenever the Forgefiend attempted to swivel the fanged barrels in our direction, the warding chains ignited, sending shocks throughout the creature's tormented body. With a wail, the Daemonic construct flinched and shrank back, its rage shimmering.
"You will be Infernal Rage," Noveno said, his distorted voice filled with reverence. I felt a pang of disgust over how the warpsmith seemed to worship the Daemon within his creation, but suppressed it. How was I any better when I participated in such a foul ritual?
Certainly, it was done out of necessity, but...that was simply an excuse. It was meaningless to justify my actions. It changed nothing...the fact that I had spilled the blood of innocents in order to create a monster. That I intended to set this monstrosity upon my enemies, knowing full well the massacre it would result in.
I was already damned. There was no turning back. The only way was forward.
"Call me again when you have the next host ready," I instructed Noveno. The warpsmith did a half-bow, though I wasn't sure if he was mocking me.
"I will call upon your services once again, Ignatius."
My lip curled, though it remained unseen under my helm. Noveno was mistaken if he thought me as his lackey, one he could summon at will. However, I had no wish to engage in a conflict with him, not at so critical a juncture. Sighing heavily, I mustered up the last of my magicks to seal the breach in reality that I had created. Once I was satisfied that no Daemon would be tearing its way through the fabric of space and clawing into the material universe, I finally allowed myself to relax. Turning away, I departed the chamber, leaving him to croon to his latest masterpiece.
Chronos lingered on for a few moments. There was a time, I recalled, when he absolutely loathed such things. But now...I could sense an admiration in him as he watched the newly forged Forgefiend. With each Daemon he bound to a construct, the less hatred he held for them. Indeed, he was becoming increasingly fascinated with esoteric lore, seeking out more daemonic grimoires and forbidden knowledge.
It wouldn't be long before he indulged in daemonic pacts of his own.
There might have been a time when I felt regret over watching a once honorable Space Marine sinking into the depths of such depravity, but now I felt nothing. A hollowness filled me, much like the empty shells of my brothers who were now forever condemned by the Rubric to exist as soulless automata.
War was inevitable, and the only thing I could do now was prepare for it.
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