Chapter 5: A Curse?
Joe rubbed his forehead, his thoughts jumbled. "So… let me get this straight. You're saying you're going to die, and I'll take over your body. And you're teaching me now so I can carry on in your place? Serve your Emperor or whatever?"
"Exactly."
"But no matter what happens, you're saying it's a bad deal for me? Whether I stay trapped or end up serving your Emperor, it's all unfortunate?"
"It's not just an Emperor as you imagine him," Kayvaan said firmly. "Not some mortal ruler sitting on a throne. The Emperor of Mankind is humanity's savior, our leader, our prophet. His power surpasses all gods. Without Him, humanity would have been extinguished long ago. It is because of the God-Emperor that humanity still survives in this galaxy teeming with horrors."
Joe shrugged, unconvinced. "Alright, your Emperor then. I get it. But back to my question: why would serving Him be just as unlucky as being trapped?"
"This is no easy task," Kayvaan said with a weary but prideful smile etched on his face. "If you venture out in the future, you'll understand. As an Adeptus Astartes—a Space Marine—we are powerful, perfect, and granted eternal purpose, but such gifts come with unimaginable sacrifices."
Joe froze, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Are you serious? Why should I follow your orders like some puppet?"
Kayvaan's smile vanished, replaced by a chilling calmness. "Because you're an outsider. You need to understand that with a mere thought, I could make you disappear in unimaginable agony." With that, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, Joe crumpled to the ground, his body convulsing as excruciating pain tore through him.
"I can make you feel torment beyond your wildest nightmares," Kayvaan said coldly, watching Joe writhe. "So, it would be wise to learn respect and obedience. Now, get up. You've already squandered a thousand years; there's no time left to waste! Your first task is to read every book in this hall."
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Meanwhile time also passed outside,
"How could this happen?" Alen's voice trembled as he stared in disbelief at the ceramite coffin before him. His captain, the one he had revered above all, now lay within it—a shadow of his former self. Anger surged through him, burning hot in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I need an explanation—one that makes sense. Otherwise..."
The servitor standing nearby trembled visibly, its mechanical arm twitching at its side. "I-I don't know either. This is... unprecedented. The captain shouldn't have changed after being placed in the sanctum, but... Please wait a moment. This might have happened during the Great Betrayal or shortly thereafter. I'll need to check the records."
Before the servitor could move, an elderly man stepped out from the shadows of the hall. "No need, Corida. You're not authorized to access those records," the man said, his voice steady but firm. He waved a dismissive hand, and Corida quickly retreated. The old man approached Alen, bowing slightly as a sign of respect. "Lord Alen, I am Eustace, Librarian of the Sanctum of the Honored Dead. I oversee everything here. How may I assist you?"
Alen's gaze remained fixed on the coffin. "I want to know what happened to the person lying inside. How did he end up like this?"
Eustace glanced briefly at the identification sigil engraved on the ceramite coffin. "May I ask your connection to the captain in question?"
Alen didn't hesitate. "He was my captain. He always will be."
Understanding dawned on the Librarian's face. He let his gaze drift to the chest of Alen's armor, adorned with medals that gleamed in the hall's soft light: the Imperial Laurel, the Crux Terminatus, and the Mark of the Emperor's Wrath. Each one represented extraordinary feats—victories against insurmountable odds, triumphs in legendary battles, and countless foes vanquished. It was no wonder the servitor had quaked in the presence of such a figure.
"If your captain could see what you've become, he would be proud," Eustace said softly. "But I must ask you to temper your anger and lower your voice. This is the Sanctum of the Honored Dead, after all."
Alen nodded, fully aware of the solemnity and unyielding rules that governed this sanctified space. The Sanctum of the Honored Dead was no ordinary hall—it was a sacred reliquary of the Chapter's most revered heroes, those who had given everything in service to the Emperor. These were warriors who had slain xenos lords, turned the tide of impossible battles, or laid down their lives in acts of supreme sacrifice.
The remains of these heroes lay interred in stasis sarcophagi, their surfaces adorned with purity seals, etched litanies, and the sigils of their Chapter. The walls of the hall stretched into shadowed infinity, each recess containing a crypt illuminated by the dim glow of flickering votive candles. Some sarcophagi bore the honored Crux Terminatus, signifying those who had once donned Terminator armor. Others were marked with laurels of champions or the battle honors of campaigns long past.
For these heroes, death was inevitable—whether from insurmountable wounds or mortal injuries sustained in battle—but their loss was too great for the Imperium to bear. Their talents, their wisdom, and even their genetic legacy were treasures the Imperium could not afford to lose. Thus, the Sanctum of the Honored Dead was established. These sarcophagi weren't mere resting places; they were advanced stasis chambers connected to a colossal temporal stabilizer. Time flowed so slowly for the occupants that they were nearly frozen in an eternal slumber. The hope was that one day, when the Imperium's technology advanced far enough, these heroes could be revived and restored.
Eustace pulled out a data-slate, its surface lighting up with glowing text and symbols. He scanned the information carefully before speaking again. "You have the right to know about your captain's condition. However, I must warn you that this involves highly classified information. It is one of the Imperium's most closely guarded secrets. I trust you understand the importance of discretion."
Alen's expression hardened. "I understand."
"Good." Eustace tapped the data-slate, bringing up a specific document. He held it out toward Alen. "Take a look here—pay close attention to this seal."
Alen's gaze followed Eustace's pointing finger, and his jaw dropped instantly. He stood frozen, his mouth agape for what felt like an eternity. This battle-hardened hero, who had once stood unshaken against hundreds of Chaos Space Marines, now wore an expression he had not shown in thousands of years—pure, unfiltered astonishment.
The sight left Alen speechless.
The Librarian waited patiently, allowing Alen a moment to collect himself. Once Alen regained some composure, the Librarian continued, his tone grave yet steady. "What you see before you is a seal of the Emperor's Will, placed by the hand of the Emperor Himself. Your captain, the revered Kayvaan Shrike, was personally examined by His Omniscient Majesty. It was His divine revelation that your captain's wounds were not merely physical but were inflicted by a curse of the most sinister kind."
"A curse?" Alen's voice trembled slightly as the word sent a chill through him. He struggled to process what he had just heard. "I-I don't understand. I was with my captain on the battlefield during that campaign. Afterward, they told me he was gravely injured, but no one ever mentioned a curse."
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