The Red Herald

The Red Herald

"Take them! By The Blood! Take them all!"

Nassir Amit roars, his voice almost as booming as the repeated bark of the bolt pistol in his hand, as he dives into the fray once more. His sidearm clicks empty in one hand, as he tosses it aside, his reserves of ammunition fully spent, as in the other, he slashes forward with his savage, serrated blade. The teeth of the weapon carve through the flesh of the traitors, parting it with the ease of an alpha predator on the hunt. Nassir turns and twists the blade, before withdrawing it to a gore filled spray of ichor, wetting the ground beneath him, as well as his bared face. He feels The Thirst well up within him, stronger than ever before, and curses this damned world once again, before launching himself against the next of the crazed cultists that seek to stop him.

The Ninth Legion had come to Signus in force, the full mustering of The Legion having been accomplished for this grim campaign. The task was one that none of The Sons of Sanguinius would turn from, the eradication of a xenos species so foul, so hated, that they'd cried out in fury when it was discovered they'd somehow survived the genocide granted to them any years ago. The Nephilim, a breed of creature that fed on the worship of greater species, parasitic, cruel, and always thirsting for more, Amit was more than happy to see such scum purged from the face of the galaxy. It was said that they'd been exterminated by Hualan of the Vth Legion, yet, clearly, she had proven incapable of of the task, so that it now fell to The Ninth. Their lord, master, and father, Sanguinius, had spoken to his sons before making the first jump to Signus, on how this task would test them, on how this mistake would be corrected in blood and righteous fury, and Amit could have only agreed with such words. Yet, since arrival, he'd only wondered on how his Legion had been so wrong about the nature of this campaign.

They'd arrived in system, not to meet xenos deception, but some strange, almost occult force that defied them. Entire populations of worlds had been missing, thought dead or worse, while at the core of the system, Signus Prime offered challenge to The Great Angel and his sons. Amit had been among the first to respond to such challenge, the vanguard of the Blood Angels throwing themselves like a divine hammer upon the surface of Signus Prime, and those who would challenge Imperial Might. Upon these plains, their fields filled with the scent of brimstone, and bursting with flames, beneath a sky of murderous red, The Blood Angels would face those they'd come to liberate, each screaming mortal now lost completely to some strange zealotry. Nassir had fought in The Great Crusade for many years, and in this time, he'd seen many renegade human empires fall by his own efforts, yet here, he was irritated and shocked by how hard the mortals fought them.

Each moved with such aggression, such blind devotion, that it was almost akin to battling a greenskin, yet, in his hearts, Nassir knew that was not an apt comparison. The orks, for all their brutality, could be broken, and made to flee, if met with sufficient savagery, of which he was intimately experienced, yet these humans, they did not hesitate. He'd broken them, flayed them, torn them apart, yet still they came on, uncaring of the massacre around them, still chanting the same damned chorus over and over again. Indeed, while none of the astartes had anything to fear from one of their number, with the sheer focus on murder they brought to fore in their packs, Nassir had seen even his fellow angels brought down under the weigh of their ignorant cries and devotions.

"Salvator! Flamer!"

His called is answered, as a hissing scream is felt in his bones, the heavy flamer of his battle brother sending forth a stream of burning promethium into the masses that sought to overwhelm them. Even the most devoted crumpled as their flesh and muscles melted upon their charring bones, and for a brief moment, Amit and his warriors were allowed a moment's respite.

Yet, it was not to last.

The roars that followed would be sounds that haunted Nassir to the end of his days, for their notes were pitched in a manner that seemed all to unnatural, and in each shriek, the marine could swear he heard the death cries of foes slain in years past. Turning his gaze to the horizon, where the damned Cathedral rose up, Amit would witness the charge of their true foe. Skin stretched taut over muscular forms, in both arterial crimson, and lascivious amethyst hues, the twin forces would charge against them. Amit would watch, bringing up his blade, crying out in challenge, even as he took in the sights of these beasts, beyond the mere hatred that xenos elicited. These creatures, with their curved, black horns, and crustacean claws, they were more than just alien, they were anathema to all he and his Blood Angels stood for. Only a single word, weighed with the heresy of it's meaning, could properly convey the sheer hate he felt for such warriors.

Daemon.

Nassir fights, his jagged blade weaving from strike to strike, no room for hesitation, or doubt, or strategy, only action. Twin hearts beat with a fury that one might think they are going to burst, and blood courses through the veins of the warrior, as he ducks, weaves and parries blows that would rend a mortal man apart. Amit doesn't know how long it's been since the daemons joined the fray, for he has trouble keeping track of time at all now. The fighting is thick, and The Thirst burns within him, sharpening his strikes, at the cost of bringing him ever closer to being fully engulfed by it's madness. The Flesh Tearer howls, as he decapitates the foe before him, it's horned head dropping to the earth, now coated in ash and soot, it's gleaming, burning blade already fading out of reality. The heaven's of Signus Prime weep the only way that would be fitting, as Nassir feels a warm drop fall upon him, the bloody tears of a world coming to lay it's downpour on man and monster alike.

For all that he is, and has become, Nassir feels himself teetering closer and closer to an oblivion of his own making, a pressure on his mind building, refusing to be denied. His brothers fall about him, just as readily as the abominations they battle, already more than a few losing themselves to the madness they bore within. Yet, even as Nassir struggles to keep his control, he feels a great burst of pressure, the heavy thud of something approaching. Looking up into the blood raining skies, a shadow descends from above, slick with the ichor of fallen heroes, it's ape-like face twisted into a toothy grin. Amit does not know how, but he can understand this creature at a glance, what it is, and what it represents. The lesser daemons raise their blades in salute to the arrival of their monstrous overlord, as it crashed into the earth, crushing friend and foe alike beneath it's cloven hooves.

Nassir moves, without thinking, his blade gripped in hand, his hearts beating, fangs bared, as he closes the distance between himself and this avatar of bloodshed. Yet, even as swiftly as he moves, he has not the time to see the strike that sends him whirling through the air, only recognizing the threat after he's crashed back into the earth. The crack of the hellish whip sounds off once more, as Amit, struggling to rise to his feet, feel's himself struck, and is sent reeling. His ceremite is cracked and burned, his blade is lost, and creatures gather about him, their burning, hungry gazes locked on The Flesh Tearer. Amit tries to rise, to fight, to die standing, but, weariness covers him, and he struggles to even spit back at those who'd seek his skull.

"This...this will not...be how...I die...."

Clenching a fist, for his other arm refuses to listen to his demands, Amit prepares himself to face death with all he knows, yet, a peace falls upon him. His vision is failing him, his hearts slowing in their beat, as The Flesh Tearer looks above, sensing the arrival of his father. The white pinions in the air, the radiant light he feels warming him, Amit watches as Sanguinius takes to the field, lowering himself to stand before the great beast. Amit can feel himself failing now, eyes fluttering black as he tries to fight, but it is of no use. As the talons of unconsciousness sink themselves into him, Amit falls back, seeing at the end, Sanguinius standing tall, Blade Encarmine in hand, as before him, all the creatures begin to kneel...

_____

Nassir awakens screaming, fangs bared, hearts beating, eyes wide and filled with aggression. The dreams of the slumbering marine had been dark, yet, as he slowly pulls back the almost fractured bits of his mind, he finds he cannot recall that which he saw in them. His breathing slows, his eyes close, as The Flesh Tearer tries to make sense of his whereabouts. He feels the prickling of the collar around his throat, the inner spines stabbing against his flesh as he struggles, as well as the weight of the shackles upon his wrists, ankles, and waist. The darkness rarely hides much from one of The Emperor's Space Marines, yet, strangely, Amit finds he cannot see far into the room around him, save that he is chained to some pillar of sorts. Snarling, the marine once again tests his bonds, cursing the fact that these creatures had seemingly taken him to their foul pit. Yet, with The Angel upon the field, Nassir knew that their time had come, and soon, the daemons would be met with the righteous fury of The Blood Angels unleashed.

The clanging of heavy metal draws his attention, Amit's eyes turning towards the source of the noise, before spitting a wad of acidic phlem. It hisses in the darkness, eating away at the floor, as he growls, and calls out.

"You will find no pleasure in keeping me, you wretched beasts!"

Yet, in response, Amit would find his captors approaching him, a sly grin forming upon his lips. Perhaps, these daemons might be goaded after all. Yet, all hints of his grin would disappear as the approaching party stepped into the light.

"By the Blood..."

The Sanguinary Guard pierced the darkness with his gleaming plate, it's figure seemingly glowing with a barely contained light, it's wings spread behind it. The mask of the astartes would stare at Amit, the usual cold, golden eyes now replaced with a boiling, malevolent glare, piercing his skin, and looking into his very being. Amit was silent, teeth clenching, as he realized what this would mean, yet struggled to process the results regardless.

By the time Sanguinius stepped into view, the trapped marine would be gnashing his teeth together in frustration. The cool, calming, voice of The Great Angel would cut through the cold silence of the chamber.

"Captain. I see you've awoken."

"TRAITOR!"

The words burst from Amit without even conscious thought, each syllable dripping with the fury the man felt boiling up within him. Years of small observations began to come together for The Flesh Tearer, which alone he'd ignored, yet now, painted a dark picture that culminated in the being that stood before him. To his credit, Sanguinius seemed unphased by the accusation laid before him, eyes appearing to turn almost sorrowful at Nassir's words. Yet, the same could not be said of the Sanguinary Guard, as the golden being stepped forward with a hiss, and struck Amit across the face, drawing blood with his blow.

Amit could hardly focus, the pounding of his head trying to understand what was before him, what it meant to him, what it would mean to The Imperium at large. His mouth would part, as he howled into the air, venting the confused anger that pulsated within his twin hearts, before letting his head hang, eyes wide, unbelieving. The touch of his Primarch would have him snap his gaze up, his venomous glare meeting the soothing visage of his father. Even now, even here in the dark, the radiance of The Great Angel almost overwhelmed him entirely, Sanguinius gingerly lifting his chin up with a gentle touch one might not believe possible for so mighty a being. His words were as silk, as the Primarch began to speak.

"Nassir, my Flesh Tearer, always so simple, always so direct. You have done me proud my son..."

Amit would remain silent, his mind alight with fire, his face shifting with each passing moment. Sanguinius would not pause, continuing to speak.

"I knew, in the end, you'd be the hardest to convince, the most difficult to bring into the fold. Even now, I can see it in your eyes, defiant to the end, fighting an enemy you cannot hope to best. But, I'm afraid you're on the wrong side of this effort, my son, and I cannot tolerate any who would try to challenge the destiny I have foreseen."

Amit is silent, for the first time since he's awoken, realization running through his being, as he speaks.

"The vanguard...My brothers..."

Sanguinius replies, genuinely sadness in his voice.

"All loyal to a being undeserving. All lying dead without exception, save for you, Amit."

The curses fly freely now, as Amit throws himself at his Gene-Sire, chains tearing at his flesh as he struggles to vent his outrage on his father. Sanguinius says nothing, his guard remain unmoving, each of their hateful eyes glaring towards the captive, until, after what feels like an eternity, Nassir grows silent, panting heavily, his temper spent, at least for the moment. The question comes next, out of his lips, unsure and still tinged with fury.

"Why do I yet live?"

Sanguinius takes a step forward, placing a hand gently upon Amit's shoulder, and even now, in the pits of his hatred, Amit feels the old tug of affection seeping into him. The next words from his father do nothing to help quell such feelings.

"Because I need you, Amit. Because you've been chosen, and none finer could I pick of my own accord."

Amit looks into his father's eyes, as Sanguinius takes a step back, and for the first time in his life, Nassir see's The Angel's light shift in it's glory.

"You have not seen the future I fight for my son, so I will forgive your choice, but it is a glorious one. Loraine and her chosen have shown me the path, yet I am the one who would dare to walk it, to bring humanity into an age where angels and daemons alike will fly, and none will challenge the might of humanity and it's divine mandate of dominion."

The Angel speaks, his voice filled with a fervour that Amit has rarely seen from one he'd remembered to be so humble, and it terrifies him to see his lord swelling with such a dark ambition.

"I will go where none other dare, and I will wrest control over Materium and Immaterium, ensuring the melding of two realms, into one, glorious Imperium for all mankind."

"But...The Emperor, he wi-"

"He will fall. As all tyrants and lesser men eventually do. In his hubris, my father sought to carve out his place in the stars, while denying the powers that dwelt in The Warp. I have seen through this mistake, and will ensure I do not fail as my father has, I can promise you this, Amit."

Nassir spits upon the ground, his teeth clenching, strength returning to his body as the hate burns once more.

"And you'd cast down your sons to do such a thing! You'd set this entire galaxy on fire for this foolish ambition?!?!"

Sanguinius laughs, soft and charming, if not for the insidious meaning behind it.

"Let The Galaxy Burn. From it's pyre, I shall rise."

Then, Sanguinius is before him once more, clutching at his chin with golden fingers, as he speaks.

"Of course, pacts will need be made, and the loyalty of those beyond the veil of reality must be won. That, my son, is where you will give me one last service."

Amit sees movement behind his lord, a Word Bearer, Uan Harox, step into view, surrounded by a cabal of hooded figures, each chanting in a tongue that makes Nassir's ears begin to bleed. Drawing forth a strange, runic dagger, the Word Bearer approaches, as Sanguinius steps back. Amit cries out, as the blade begins to carve into his flesh, The Word Bearer forming sigils and other heretical texts upon his body. Sanguinius watches this all with interest, speaking as the Daughter of Loraine works.

"Flesh Tearer. My son, it was always going to be you, I hope you realize. With your savage nature, the gleeful way you use the rage that beats in each of our hearts, oh yes, you were marked from the beginning."

Amit tries to curse once more at his father, yet, feels a strange sensation beginning to build within him, as the chanting of the cultists grows in volume, and the runes upon his body begin to glow.

"My most savage son, you will make the perfect marriage of that which I seek to join. The child of Angel and Daemon..."

Amit's eyes grow wide, as he feels the heat rising within him, a burning that torches his soul. In his final moments, he hears the words of his father, mixed with the words of some otherworldly beast.

"Rise now, my chosen..."

_____

The Red Tear lays in orbit above Signus Prime, the massive warship prepares for departure. Upon it's bridge, a carnival of activity is at play, mortal serfs shuffling about, many doing their best to ignore the new additions to their staff as best they can. Overseeing it all, Sanguinius looks once more towards Signus Prime, as he gives the order to begin departure. He has dwelt long enough in this system, and now, with all proceeding as planned, The Great Angel moves onward along the path to ultimate victory. Turning command of the bridge over to his mortal captain, The Great Angel turns and begins to stride away to his quarters. His Sanguinary Guard rise without word, and begin following their liege, their shining armour only dimmed where covered in blood, yet still Sanguinius halts.

Turning his gaze, he looks upon the newest addition to his entourage, a small pang of guilt being crushed as quickly as it rises up. The burning figure appears as one of his sons, yet with cracked plate, burning, hate filled eyes, and a brutal, jagged blade always clutched in hand. It stares, even now, back towards Signus, as if unable to tear it's eyes from the world, until Sanguinius speaks.

"My Herald..."

It turns, facing The Great Angel with the burning skull of a man he once loved, glaring back with all the hate of a son betrayed. Sanguinius cannot help but let a smile cross his lips, as he ushers forth his warrior.

"Come, there is still much that must be done, and for you, I have foreseen a task of great import."

Turning his back upon Signus, Amit marches off after Sanguinius, his screams unheard, his defiance unnoticed, as he gazes out with a body that no longer obeys, and listens to the voice of a being that only desires Blood.