*Intro
*Prologue
*Twists of Fate
Inquisitor Faeit stood tall, stretching his arms and wrists outward to feel the strength of his powered armor. He pulled the blood red over a balding head, allowing the psychic energy to course down his spine where it mixed with the bodies own adrenaline. His eyes widened into the intense gaze of a madman as the anticipation of battle swelled with every breath. The visions had pointed here, to this planet, to these ancient ruins, and to a battle that would leave this crusade for the Emperor, swinging in the balance. He would not fail.
“Have I not already failed?” the words coming silently off his lips, in conflict with what was happening around him. This was not real, it was a dream, a memory. No, the realization came, it was his nightmare, the same nightmare.
Behind him, the gunship’s engines had begun to whine, preparing to lift off. Around him blurry black carapace armored figures ran past Faeit, jumping up into the vendetta’s open door. Awaiting orders, surrounding chimera transports turned over their engines as the battle group prepared to advance into the ruined city. The hum of plasma guns charging, rang in his ears. and Faeit dropped down to one knee.
This routine of pretending to pray before battle was one of Lord Faeits greatest secrets. The men would need unbending faith in him, and by invoking the power of the Emperor through prayer, even the lowliest soldier was willing to face death. He recalled that the Templar were moving against him, many would die. He numbly went through the motions of the dream, aware of the memory that was this dream and what was to come, but he was unable and possibly unwilling to break the cycle and wake.
Faeit stood, taking in the nightmare around him, it was a blur; the faces he knew indistinct. Then something peculiar happened, she walked by, and the blurriness of the dream focused, her image solid and clear. Faeit turned quickly from her, fearful she would catch his stare. This did not happen, he knew she was supposed to already be aboard the gunship. Where had she just come from?
Intrigued, Faeit turned and boarded. Everyone including the acolyte Celene, were in their proper location, yet the blurriness of the dream focused everything to her. Their eyes met, and she smiled. It wasn’t her smile. Something else was there in the eyes, looking back at him, her smile a lie.
“Incoming!” the speakers cracked from the pilot. The gunship shook violently with the explosion and reeled sharply to the right. Sparks showered the interior deck from above as one engine turbine was blown, bellowing black smoke throughout the cabin. The gunship was probably on fire above them and they were about to crash.
He could hear his own thoughts as they were hit, furious, fiery, they thought only of the artifact. They played like a recording in the background. They were already flying into the plaza when they were hit, and Faeit found it peculiar that they had just taken off a moment ago. Dreams were strange, the passage of time and events unclear. Faeit’s grabbed a metal rail to brace himself against the impact.
They crashed to the ground, the metal grab bar ripping out under the impact and strength of Faeits powered armor as he was thrown into the wall. He stood through it and staggered backwards, the pilot lowering his flying wreckage to the ground without tearing them apart, it was the last moments of his life.
Faeit quickly emerged from the wreckage beneath a flaming wing , his plasma team moving quickly to his sides. The black smoke was everywhere, covering their exit from the vehicle. Then Celene moved up beside him, where she moved, the smoke parted, and the dream focused.
From the other side of the plaza, the dark armored marines emerged from the ruins, their thick ceramite plates of black and white glistening in the dying light. In the distance, Faeit could hear the men bark futile orders, drowned out by the rising battle hymn of the Templar. In cue with the rising hymns, missiles leaving behind trails of white smoke, were fired from the Black Templar, followed by the rising chorus of bolter fire.
Faeit 212 continues here