#acheran

It hurts it hurts it hurts.

Tears no longer ran tracks down her cheeks. She tried not to sob, barely even to pant. If she remained quiet and unnoticed, maybe she could die before the Monster came for her again.

Dimly, she was aware of noises around her. Large noises. Wet noises. Sometimes laughter. Always whispers. The very air pulsed with an oiliness she felt seeping into her pores. 

She never opened her eyes.

Not once.

She couldn’t stop the thick air from enveloping her. Couldn’t stop the fragrant foulness from working its way up her nose and down her throat. Couldn’t avoid the ghostly fingers wisping across her bare, bloodied skin. 

But she could keep her eyes shut.

No matter what the whispers promised.

“Pretty thing… look… just once….”

“Pretty… pretty… pretty….”

“Make aaaaaaalllll the pain go away….”

Vesta bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

The whispers weren’t the Monster. She didn’t know what they were. Didn’t dare think about it. They echoed from everywhere and nowhere, just faint enough that she could never decide if they were one or many. 

With every breath reality seemed to disintegrate a little more. Turning her head, she pressed her face to the hard, sticky metal flooring beneath her cheek and barely managed to bite back a cry of sheer relief. Solid. Real. An island of sanity in an ocean of… of… 

Chaos.

The whispers giggled at that word. She didn’t know why.

Thud… Squelch… Thud.

The Monster. Vesta tried not to breathe.

“Almosssst… almossssst….”

The voice bore only the faintest resemblance to that of the Astartes it had once been. It hissed, words emerging slowly as if forced from a vocal structure never made to utter any sane tongue.

“Come… Harlot… closssssser….”

The gasp burst forth before Vesta could stop it, horror momentarily drowning out the pain.

“No, Sera! DON’T!”

***

The door to the chamber shut behind you with the clang of a death knell. 

No.

You closed your eyes and forced your breathing to slow. 

This is not the end.

Your heart pounded like it was trying to rip its way from your chest and flee. You wanted to do exactly that. Fling yourself against the door and scream for mercy. Demetrian would answer in a heartbeat. 

And Vesta would die.

You should have been used to the darkness by now. The last segment of your journey to this cursed chamber was completed in blackness, all the lumens malfunctioning and the candles extinguished long before you arrived. But you’d had the red gleam of Titus’s lenses to comfort you.

He was gone now. He’d led you to the chamber and ushered you inside, then turned on his heel and marched straight out again. As ordered.

But not before offering you the only mercy he had left.

You hefted the weight of his combat blade in both hands. A knife to him. A sword to you. Only a minute since he’d handed it to you and your arms already ached from the strain. Even if you didn’t face a Monster, you had the feeling it would be useless to you in a struggle.

But maybe that wasn’t the point.

You gingerly ran your finger over the edge. Sharp. Sharp enough to deliver a clean end.

He’d promised not to let the Monster take you again. 

You pulled the blade close to your chest and cradled it like a treasured keepsake. 

Thank you, Demetrian.

The darkness closed in around you. You couldn’t help imagining the poor girl they’d found in this place. They hadn’t told you her name. You wondered if anyone had even asked. Just another serf. But someone, somewhere on this massive vessel powering through the void, mourned tonight. 

Because she’d looked like you.

A fist squeezed your heart as you fought the rising tide of guilt.

No. I won’t go down that road again. 

You clutched the hilt of the combat blade, imagining the hands that had held it before, and drew strength. 

The faint impression of the Librarian’s fingers at your temples still lingered. A warding, he’d called it. Against what he would not say, a glance of his glowing eyes discouraging any further questions. If you concentrated, you swore you could feel a weight like an invisible helm settled atop your skull.

You also felt the hard angles of the tracking beacon adhered to your lower back. 

And the lighter pressure of Demetrian’s laurel leaf over your heart.

“I am protected.” You whispered into the black. “I am protected!”

The shadows absorbed your words into their inky depths. But something in you felt better for saying them.

So you lifted the blade and spoke your defiance.

“I will not run.”

***

Brother Librarian Atius stood still and silent as an armored monolith, all his thoughts focused on one tiny, flickering mortal mind. The ghost of a smile passed over his lips as the soul-light flared bright.

Brave girl. Find your courage.

His warding would hold. Few Astartes Librarians took the time to study the protection of mortal minds, but he allowed himself some small pride in the skill he learned from an ancient Salamander during a joint mission. Decades ago, now.

He could still hear the old drake rumble. 

“We are hardened against the horrors of the Archenemy. The mortals amongst us are not. As our bodies shield their bodies, so must our minds shield their minds.”

Many of his brothers would call such a skill sentimental frivolity. Had called it that. 

But Atius knew with certainty there were more mortals alive and sane and uncorrupted in the Imperium today because of it. You would be one of them. His warding would hold.

Why then, did unease deny him the peace of meditation?

He opened his eyes and surveyed the silent brethren surrounding him. At their head, Captain Acheran himself, eyes locked on the auspex in his gauntlet. An auspex with a single, blinking light. Astartes’ emotions were not so bright to Atius’s eyes as those of the mortals, but he recognized the vague shimmer of shame flickering around the Captain’s rigid form. Sensed it sour upon his tongue.

You blame yourself for not seeing the fallen one’s fractures in time. Perhaps the blame is justified. Accept it. Learn. Do not let it make you reckless.

The Captain’s unaugmented eye flickered to him for a second, then focused straight on the auspex again.

Atius sighed.

He tasted more shame upon the still, stifling air. The Apothecary fairly burned with it. And sorrow. A sorrow Atlus had only felt in the presence of mortal parents who had lost children.

Again, he tried to plumb the pulsating darkness for a flicker from that other young soul. Her pain should be shining bright and scarlet. 

He saw nothing. Another rolling surge of unease tightened his jaw.

More fierce emotions emanated from the brothers stationed within the corridor on the deck below. Brother Chairon’s mingled with a deep, soul-scouring rage.

And beyond them….

Atius knew that, were he on the opposite end of the Resilient, or even on another voidship entirely, he would yet feel Lieutenant Demetrian Titus’s anguish.

He pushed his thoughts outward, seeking to offer some kind of solidarity. Only to run up against the sealed bastion of the Lieutenant’s mind. 

Access utterly denied.

He’d heard, of course, of the Lieutenant’s uncanny resistance to all things Warp-related. But, feeling it firsthand, the resolute strength of it, the willpower unlike any he’d encountered before, brought him a form of comfort.

Keep me out, Titus. Keep everything out. 

The battle to come depended on it.

In the depths surrounding them… something massive and malformed finally moved.

“Captain!”

Acheran didn’t hesitate. “Ultramarines, form up!”

The other Astartes, five not including the Apothecary, snapped into standard formation behind their Captain. Atius’s lips thinned as he surveyed the meager force.

The fallen one is clever, drawing us to one of the serf decks. Too small to bring our full power to bear without grievously damaging the ship’s infrastructure. 

The Captain barked into his vox. “Sergeant, the traitor’s made himself known. Advance to the Lieutenant’s position and hold until we arrive.”

A reply crackled back immediately. “Yes, sir. We will advance- Chairon! For the love of the Emperor, wait!”

“Sergeant! What is happening?”

“Apologies, Captain! Battle Brother Chairon and I are advancing… immediately!”

The Captain growled. “Just keep him and the Lieutenant from doing anything foolish, Sergeant.” He turned. “Lower the-”

Gears screeched as the great lift suddenly plummeted beneath their feet. Several Ultramarines stumbled into each other, and Atilus had to reach out and steady himself against the wall. He looked up to see Apothecary Callistus standing next to the controls. 

Controls flashing an alarming red.

Acheran noticed too. “By the Throne, Apothecary!”

Callistus didn’t respond. The look in his hollow eyes said it all as he manipulated the controls to descend even faster. 

“Lock armor and brace!” Acheran bellowed.

Sparks flew as the lift screamed to a juddering halt that would have shattered the bones of a mortal. The doors warped on impact, and Atius helped his brothers wrench them open.

Acheran stepped out into the unnatural blackness first. “Bah. It reeks of abomination. Remain vigilant, brothers. And follow the Warp-damned plan!”

The last was aimed at the Apothecary who had already shouldered his way to the front of the formation.

Atius laid a hand on his pauldron. But before he could offer words of comfort-

“AARRGH!”

White hot pain lanced through his skull, painting everything in a sudden swirl of purplish pink. An infernal tittering filled his ears until he felt his own carefully maintained wards on the verge of shattering.

Then… it was gone.

Atilus came to himself, supported on the Apothecary’s shoulder, every eye in the squad fixed on him.

The Captain’s red augmetic burned in the darkness. “Librarian, what-?!”

“...late.” Atilus choked, tasting blood. “Too late….”

***

One moment, you stood  in the inky blackness of the empty chamber. The next, madness surrounded you. Colors for which you had no name seared your eyes. Whispers and shrieks and the laughter of the damned swept over you with physical force. The very floor beneath your feet seemed to drop away, leaving you floating in unreality.

You tried to scream… or were screaming… or had screamed. 

Emperor, help-!

It ended.

You collapsed hard on a metal surface once again. And promptly emptied the contents of your stomach onto the grating. 

“Emperor… oh, Emperor….”

You no longer held Demetrian’s blade. Blindly reaching out in search of it, your fingers met something soft that gasped and shied away from your touch.

Slowly, your eyes cleared. A sickly purple gleam illuminated your surroundings. Another chamber, anonymous and interchangeable like so many on the great voidship. But not empty.

“VESTA!”

You threw yourself to your knees beside your friend. Her mottled skin looked ghastly in the unnatural glow. She lay still, so still, curled into a ball with her mangled limb tucked tight to her chest. Stripped of all clothing and dignity.

A sob ripped from your throat as you frantically pulled off your outer robe to cover her. “Vesta… oh, Emperor! I’m so sorry!”

Her eyes snapped open. Full of terror but, thank the Throne! Sane.

“... Sera?”

“I’m here!” You began tearing strips from the hem of your shift. “Let me see your wrist, Vesta. Let me help!”

Your friend’s shoulders shook in silent sobs as you bandaged her stump as best you could. Then you wrapped your arms around her, rocking her slowly back and forth.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

She grasped your shoulders with hands like claws, clinging so hard it hurt. You let her. 

“I know. I promise, I know.”

She shook her head, matted curls flying. “No. Nonono.”

You tried to comfort her. “We’ll be all right, Ves. Demetrian is coming. And the Captain with a full squad. They’ll save-”

“It knows!”

Her wail stopped you cold. Vesta lifted her head, staring into your eyes with a look of despairing horror. 

“It knows….” She buried her head in your chest. “You shouldn’t have come. Should have let me die.”

“Ves… no!”

The light changed. Rippled. Intensified. You didn’t want to look, but something drew your eyes like iron to a magnet. Drew them to something that dripped and pulsed against the far wall. 

Your heart stopped dead for a full beat.

It vaguely resembled an arched doorway… if doorways were made of intertwined human bodies. Bodies that by any sane law of nature could not live, and yet writhed in a dance at once macabre and horribly sensual. 

Emperor save me, the faces…!

You tore your eyes away before sanity deserted you completely. 

Then, the whispers began. You clung harder to Vesta, the two of you shuddering as a familiar voice purred through the perfumed air.

“Pretty thing. You should have accepted my offer.” A deep, moaning sigh. “Ah, well. You will provide such a lovely reward for my pet either way.”

The purplish air thickened into a column. And out of that column….

“At lasssst… my Harlot.”

You could do nothing but scream.