The Enemy

[Sister Evangeline]

The sound of knocking pulled Evangeline’s attention to the door.

“My lady, the oil and soap you requested have arrived.” A masculine voice called from behind the door.

“Have the alchemists do as I instructed.” Evangeline called back. She wasn’t exactly in a position to answer, with only a white towel covering her still drying body as she stood, eyeing her discarded garments. “Grind the soap into a powder and then add it to the oil in a one to eight ratio by volume. Stir until it periodically until if forms a gel.”

The amount she required was impossible to make it all on her own, and even to feudal alchemists it was not a difficult task, just labour intensive. Which meant she was left with time, time to dwell on the revelations of the day. With a huff she walked over to the bed and collapsed backward onto it’s soft upholstery, all the while the image of the creature rose to the surface of her mind, Omni. Promises of eternal life providing it was entertained, and anything she wanted.

What you want most.

The words resonated. What Evangeline wanted most was a way back to the comfort of her sisters, or so she believed. Perhaps there was something within her that didn’t want to return. She considered the arduous nature of life in the 41st millenium, her mind always on guard for corrupting influences and her body always ready for war. It was an idea that she was able to quickly dismiss. Though the landscape was alien, the monsters were very familiar, and she felt no more at ease here than in the Imperium. The only difference was that she was alone. Perhaps she did want an escape from the Imperium, but it would not be to a place such as the Moor.

The thing she wanted most was definitely to return home. More than anything. It had been in the background as she pushed forward, like a little child calling out to her father. Something she had to ignore and drag with her as she pushed forward. Now in the quiet of an opulent room, as far as feudal standards go, she could entertain it. Indeed she had been for quite some time now. She wanted it, more than anything. So either the creature was lying to her or a path home was off the table.

Something simpler then. She cast her eyes back to the shield robes she’d left in a heap in the corner, festering in the rotten muck of the swamp. She knew it must be cast upon the fire yet she had not yet done so, and she knew the reason. It was not something like an attachment to the holy garment of her order. Her reason was vanity and comfort. Being born of nobility Evangeline had a taste for the finer things. High thread counts were the standard growing up, and she considered the clothing of the community leader on par with sackcloth. It was a line of thought that began many self-flagellation rituals, though her time in the Hospitalia only served to strengthen those notions. In practice, the cleaner and more well made her equipment and dressings were, the better the outcomes for the patient. Nonetheless, her instinctive vanity was a trait she felt was inappropriate for a sister of the Adepta Sororitas.

“Do not think of such things.” A voice, feminine but abrasive, said in front of her.

The room had morphed into a small chapple. The walls and floor were made from white marble and the altars and pews made from Ivory. Each had an opulent golden trim. Coloured light filtered in through the stained glass windows, it was all slightly formless however, as though it was always a fuzzy mess until her eyes set upon that particular place, only to turn into liquid the moment she lifted them. Evangeline herself was 3 feet talk, hunched over at the altar and praying when she heard the voice.

“Your narcissism is an affront to the God Emperor. Cleanse such deviant thoughts from your mind lest I cleanse your presence from me with the flame.”

The woman was dressed in golden power armour with wings poking out either side of her shoulders. Again, much like the room the specifics were formless, save her face which was like a mirror.

“And here you are, moments after listening to the words of a formless creature to now follow the abominations instruction. Whatever gifts it offers are heretical, it’s powers obscene.”

“I know that!” the child protested apologetically, with tears in her eyes, streaming down her face “But I am alone, and face the ruinous powers.” She pleaded with the angelic figure “What would you have me do? Use the muskets of these men to defeat the great evil?”

The angelic figure was silent. She wanted to say ‘Have faith that the Emperor will save you.’ but the lack of warmth she felt from the astronomican gave her pause.

“I was fighting agents of Tzeentch.” The angel said with with the same tenor as before. “I cannot assume that this isn’t some ruse by one of their magicians, to turn me from the emperor’s light."

The child wiped her eyes clear and stood up. “On the off chance it isn’t, don’t I also have a responsibility to the innocents of this world?” She asked with a slightly sheepish, shaking voice.

“This power cannot be trusted. I cannot risk being tainted by it.” The angel became dismissive.

“I already am.” The child straightened up “My tooth was healed. And apparently I’m reborn when killed. This power is already woven into my being.”

“If that’s the case then I should end it now. Put this rebirth to the test.” The angel’s infection was hesitant.

“If not me then who will protect the villagers? No one else understands the threat the rot poses.” The child said with a determined voice.

The cathedral shattered in a moment and everything regained its focus. Evangeline's mind was no longer split into to two, now only she remained, the hospitalia dressed in Sororitas armour. Her thoughts became lucid and she recognised that she was dreaming, but the dream had suddenly taken a different turn.

[Okor]

Okor continued his traversal of the astral verse, the inky blackness that formed his ephemeral being crawling over the empyrean in which the dreamers dreamt their idle thoughts, a thousand thousand sleeping minds broadcasting their thoughts into what the unenlightened believed to be an empty void. But Okor knew better. His shade skittered across the sea of souls, seeking to pry forbidden lore from the unaware.
But he was not of one mind about these dark deeds.

A ragged wound blossomed across the blackness’ back, a shining mote of life breaking free from the clutch of the corrupted soul that claimed dominion over the maddened mass of pyches that once struggled for control of Okor. They had lost that fight millenia ago, and the ravenous hunger and ambition that had cowed them took every opportunity to remind them of it.
It flew through the kaleidoscope of colour, the errant spark desperately seeking out a similar light, refusing to return to dwindle in the darkness from whence it came. It darted past abstract landscapes where brutish warriors frolicked through rainbow-petalled flowers, shed its shining aura over ancient nightmares as it conducted its search.

After what felt like an age of wandering, a light shone over the churning sea of souls, a beacon to the blight-free fragment that raced over the subconsciouses of the sleepers beneath it, merging with the perfect, pearlescent sphere of purity  with nary a ripple over its shining surface.

***

The Sister’s mind was free of structure once more, preconceptions shattered and returned to a base state of nothingness upon which she was free to imprint her will upon the blank canvas. It was a beautiful thing, to see the falsehoods of man reduced and rent asunder, and allowing the void to reclaim it.

But Evangeline was no longer alone. A massive man, seemingly chiselled of marble, sat upon a pew that had survived the great dissolution. Interface ports rose from his collarbone, serving as evidence, alongside his impressive size, that he was among the Emperor’s Legions. Close-cropped black hair formed a beard upon a square jaw, the hair growth halted by a diagonal scar across his lips. Warm Hazel eyes matched the smile his mouth bore, spreading arms clad in a simple, off-white robe in a welcome gesture.

”At Long Last,” the Astartes spoke in a voice akin to rich mahogany, tinged with an accent reminiscent of the Germanic nations of ancient Terra. ”Another noble soul in the Emperor’s service comes to the Omniverse.”

The sister gasped at the intrusion, small arms reaching down to where her weapons would be maglocked to her ceramite-plated thigh, only to find herself clutching at a silk dress adorned with leonine beasts merged with the blessed Aquilla. Finding herself devoid of weaponry or the musculature and reach provided to her by puberty, she adopted a readied stance, preparing to fight a desperate battle against this newcomer. “Who are you?” She asked, heart hammering in her chest even as her breathing techniques and the prayers repeating through her mind sought to steady it.

Her guest answered with a sad chuckle, shaking his head. “I am Okor Gletch, of The Emperor’s Legions, and, much like you, a Prisoner in this realm.” The astartes advanced, kneeling before the child crusader and extending a hand for the mortal to shake. ”And I would ask that you sate my curiosity by naming yourself, Sister.”
Evangeline did not take it. She stared at the proffered appendage, emerald eyes darting between the hand and the Legionnaire’s lightly scarred visage. “How do I know that you’re real? That you’re not just some Dream-Daemon come to steal my soul away, and whisk me away from the path of the righteous?”

Gletch sighed, shaking his head. “Hatred of the Witch and their works is a thing to be praised, but I can assure you I have no such intentions. The Path of the Righteous is a trail you must blaze in this world, I fear.” He rose, turning and leaning against the remaining pew, resting himself against it as the youthful zealot advanced alongside him, still eying him suspiciously.
“This realm exists as a parody of what is right: A false Emperor rules from a city of spires and steel, with marines he forged from raw potential swearing their undying loyalty to him. The dead walk, the Eldar rule, men and monster living together in harmony, and every day, the Mad Godling steals another soul from their home to act as a Demiurge.”

Evangeline clambered onto the other end of the pew, stubby legs  briefly kicking the air as she hauled herself onto the bench. “I’ve noticed that this land is… queer. I have no love for it, and I need to return to my sisters. Do you know the path home?”

The Astartes looked down at the void beneath them, all that was borne aloft on a blank plane bereft of features or flaws. ”No. Perhaps the only way out is through our jailor, but it is a long and danger-fraught journey to his throne of lies,” he said in a grave tone, turning to look at the youth. ”But in the meanwhile, humanity survives, and in some places, thrives in this realm of madness. It’s up to those like you to show them the Imperial Truth.”

***

Elsewhere, the shade noticed something lacking. The chained chorus that he forced into submission within his blackened soul was missing a voice. The splintered shards of his psyche that were too deviant to survive had long since been eradicated, their bones raised in a blighted temple to his decaying God. The remainder had proved too stubborn for death to have a lasting hold on them, much to his irritation. But they were His.

A flame-forged eye turned its gaze over the dreaming minds that his shadowy, serpentine form coiled around, coruscating spheres of colour slowly turning sepia beneath his tainted touch. Think. If he was the naive, unenlightened fool that his fragmented professed to be, what dream would he flee to?

The answer seared itself into his sight. A burning beacon of light shone over the horizon, fire and faith embedded into the very being of the dreamer.

He knew that spark of devotion, the scouring light that sought to strip away the darkened souls of those set before it.

Oh, how it burned. His shadow streaked towards it, practically salivating as he felt his very essence evaporate on the approach. How long had it been since he had felt pain? Decades? Centuries? Millenia? His soul smouldered as his blighted spirit dove within the shimmering sphere, his visage forged of smoke and shadows turned into a raptorours grin as he found his age-old enemy.

[Sister Evangeline]

The confirmation that there was no way home came as no surprise to Evangeline, so she was only slightly crestfallen when the Astartes conveyed that fact. She still didn't trust her eyes however, so that ember of hope wasn't completely snuffed.
"That was my intent." Evangeline stated, her young body looking rather comical as she stood at attention. "But what of you, brother?" the Sister inquired, hands placed behind her back as she lost her focus on her stance and began swayed with childish curiosity. "Am I to spread the Creed alone?"

Her desire for faithful companionship ebbed into her voice more than she would have cared to at that moment. Evidently the childish aspect of her psychology was affecting her in her more lucid state upon the astral plane. She found the soft white robes which covered Okor inviting and the desire to throw off her suppositions and notions of etiquette and dive into the Astartes' arms almost unbearable. The leash that normally held her in check felt a lot slacker here.

She offered her hand to the Marine, her 'leash' only able to ensure that it was an invitation for the apparition to follow her and not the other way around.

"Alas sister." Okor began, mournfully eyeing Evangeline's tiny hand "I have strayed far from His path."

Evangeline tilted her head to the side quizzically "Whatever do you mean?" She asked, still holding her hand out. "You speak true to His word. How can you be lost and articulate it so clearly?"

For all the lore Evangeline had absorbed on the ruinous powers she could never understand the mind state in which one would fall to it. She had treated the insane and broken but comprehension of their own personal hell was discouraged. She could imagine the tactics implemented to worm an idea into someone's mind however. As soldiers of faith it was something the Sororitas were familiar with, if only in theory. If he was an apparition of some dark chaos god trying to trick her then her invitation should have been taken without hesitation, for if he had the ability to overpower her would he not simply do that? The guilt and sorrow Okor was presenting seemed genuine, and so Evangeline trusted him more, thrusting her hand out further.

"I'm sure you haven't strayed too far." She said "I'm sure you can make penance."

The hope of redemption had been all but quashed from the Astartes mind long ago. He was aware of the monster that currently dominated his mind and vaguely aware of the atrocities he'd committed. Deliverance from the evil which held him seemed impossible, but there was something about the little beacon of faith standing before him that ignited a small spark.

He sighed heavily before reaching out "Very we-"

As Okor reached out his words turned into a horrid howl. The skin along his hand split in two, the bone and sinew exposed weeping a noxious looking yellow liquid. Evangeline attempted to recoil in horror but his hand jutted forward with inhuman speed and grabbed hers firmly, spilling the fluid upon her fair skin. She continued struggling as the split continued up Okors arm, exposing flesh in various states of decomposition, writhing unnaturally as though additional abominable creatures festered underneath. When it reached his neck, his head twisted around with a hideous snap of bone, though his grip did nothing to loosen. The white robes seemed to rot as Okor continued to transform, exposing his stomach which bloated. It grew larger and larger until the formally healthy pink skin went an unnatural grey and tore apart. His bowels began to drop out of the holes in his skin, leaking a foul smelling bile which splashed upon Eva's shiny black shoes.

Evangeline didn't scream, she was almost to petrified to do anything. With her small childlike body and without weapons she could only watch as the abomination gripped her.

Once the liquid had been expelled the damaged began to reverse, his now dry innards being sucked up back into his abdomen before the skin regenerated, though it retained its mottled appearance and now appeared emaciated. The regeneration continued until it reached his arm again, the necrotic flesh being covered by tight skin that still writhed with the parasites just below the surface. While she was transfixed armour had appeared on Okor's body, covering all but his stomach and the hand which currently gripped her, the unmistakable silhouette of the Astartes, no question, but corrupted with the markings of the ruinous powers and pot-marked by centuries of neglect.

[Okor]

The gangrenous giant’s gauntlet rose up to his horned skull, spine cracking as he slowly, gently snapped his own neck to face the sister his bared, bony claw was gripping. His skin gently smouldered, his ancient corruption suffering under the shining light of her undeniable purity. A single eye set into the bent and broken bones that forged his face settled on the childlike crusader, scarlet sclera swimming with barely-visible parasites staring into her very soul. Festering fangs split the malformed maw apart, skin stretching and tearing as broken teeth twisted themselves into a Cheshire grin.

”At long… last,” the bubonic beast spoke gravely, leprous limbs holding the Sister in place. Evangeline struggled, trying to push the plagued paladin away, her hand caught in a grip like rust-coated iron.

”Do you know how long I have wasted away in this Gods-forsaken realm, alone?” A mad gleam shone in his eye, an entropic aura intensifying around the infected iconoclast, the once-pure dream sickening and withering around him. The Sister’s eyes narrowed, panic and fear replaced by years of intense training. A knife-like hand descended on the wretched wrist that held her in place, a retina-scorching light erupting on the point of contact, burning away cursed flesh and blasted bone.

Okor lifted his newly cauterized wrist, tumorous, tentacular growths struggling to slowly writhe up out of the charred stump, sizzling and scorching beneath the ever-present purity of this psyche. “For far less time than you deserve, Heretic,” spat the Sister, her voice wavering, yet an undercurrent of strength and faith remained, lending strength to her words. She was still small, still trembling in apprehension. But she was not without strength within her own mind: angelic wings rose from her back, a faint halo of shining light resting above her brow.

A cancer-ridden chuckle answered her accusation, noxious smoke rising from his impure flesh as he basked in her pure radiance. ”Good, good. Hate has not yet abandoned you. It is the first thing this accursed realm will steal from you.” A confused scowl answered the statement, Evangeline’s youthful form entering a combat stance, fists raised as she stared down the Terror-inspiring titan. “Speak what you mean, blasphemer. In the God-Emperor’s name, I demand you speak the truth.”

The gangrenous grin only seemed to grow, rotting hide tearing itself further asunder as jaws filled with further festering fangs were revealed. ”The Truth? My… dear, I will tell you nothing but the Truth. It will be painful. It will be unwelcome. But from these long-dead lips, nothing but the truth comes.”

His hands came together, one still slick with the festering fluids of its rebirth, the other clad in corrupted ceramite, pulling tight a shimmering skein of pure potential, swirling iridescence resplendent across its surface. Spires of steel rose to blot out the sun, Astartes bearing strange sigils kneeling before a robed master. Stone platforms, buoyed by crystals sailed through the sky as scholars from a thousand races banded together. Endless dunes stretching past the horizon, tangled green forests overrunning any hopes of civilization, vast crystal-clear seas beneath which abyssal creatures lurked, ashen steppes adorned with the charred bones of a thousand champions. There were a hundred vistas within this accursed realm to show, each of them devoid of what both the Divine Champions were accustomed to: Faith, fury, fire.

”This is a realm without the Emperor. Without the Gods. Without hatred,” he snarled, spitting a gobbet of rotting flesh to the ground. ”Each day, I look over this wretched realm, I start to forget. I forget the pain I have… suffered. I forget the justice I have sought. I forget my brothers. I forget my hatred.”

His face was more fang than flesh now, a torn and tattered tongue running over gnarled masses of broken teeth.

”I am Okor Paleblood, born of Barbarus, son of the Fourteenth Legion, Chosen of Nurgle. Remember who you are, Slave to an absent Emperor, for the Smiling One has taken everything from you but yourself.”

He leaned in close, his breath rank, impossibly real for a mere dream.

”And together, we shall take everything from him.”

[Sister Evangeline]

Evangeline recoiled at the stench emanating from the heretic, taking a step backward not out of fear or intimidation, but out of revulsion. However, once she looked past her disgust she erupted into a bout of laughter. Despite her adorable visage the cackle she released was hideous. Hysterical, punctuated with a malice and fanaticism that radiated from the very core of her being.

"I take it the cultists are your doing, heretic?" she said after regaining her composure, a deeply amused, almost manic expression upon her features.

"Of course," the bubonic beast boasted, misplaced mirth decidedly out of place upon his rotting visage, leprous lips twisting themselves into a foul mockery of a smile. "The only thing worse than a false God is a false Daemon, dear sister. I gave them a choice: to stand by helplessly and allow all that they knew burn, or to seize their own... lives, and turn all the rot and ruin I have to offer into their own Salvation. They have found strength in their suffering, Sister."

Evangeline could barely believe her ears. An apostate from a traitor legion no less, cut off from his Plague Lord as much as she was from her emperor, in a land so fertile for the likes of him had done little more that start a small cult. The Great Enemy had grown soft. "You complain about the abomination who owns these realms, yet you defend them when invaded?" She said with condescension "And now you beg for help from the daughter of one you betrayed." Her expression turned to one of utter disgust. "How pathetic you are." She spat venomously.

"I do not beg, dear sister." Okor replied with an, if anything, amused inflection at the indignity of the small frame before him. "I know what makes you tick. The rusted, broken clockwork of your soul. It will permit no master but the Emperor, and you will remind this accursed Omni of that fact."

"Perhaps. If everything you've said is true." Evangeline replied with a haughty dismissive cadence. "But do not mistake for a moment that I consider the enemy of my enemy an ally. The 'smiling one' and even your Plague Lord are slaves to their nature. I hate them, sure, but not like I do an apostate, not like you." Her eyes began to burn with spite. "You who had the spark of humanity and sacrificed it for some short sighted benefit or misplaced loyalty. I hate you with every fiber of my being, heretic. That will not change"

"Good. This realm steals a piece of yourself with each breath, it obliterates all meaning.  Were we still where we belong, we would happily give our lives to slay the other. But here? Death is but... a wistful dream," he snarled, corroded claws clenching into fists. "There is no End in this maddening place. How many times will we clash blades before you realize we have but one true foe? Omni thinks us puppets dancing upon his shimmering strings. How long will it be until you decide to cut them?"

"Insight and Prophecy aren't your domains apostate.” She replied venomiously. The novelty of a heretic in her presence had quickly begun lost its appeal until her only feeling left to her in that moment was utter revulsion. “I tire of this, kill me or release me, but do not make me suffer your visage a moment longer."

"This is not Prophecy, my dear Sister. This is... experience.” Okor said thoughtfully. His decrepit extremities began moving slowly and methodically as he explained in an almost mystical cadence. “I have seen the wheels of time turn again, and again. I forged the Impeirum of your False God, built it upon the blood and bones of my brothers. There is a limit to how many Mortals one can meet, before seeing the patterns.” The cycloptic helm covering his face tilted slightly as he regarded the sister, trapped as she was in a childish form. “As... Impressive as you might be, I have walked the battlefields of our home long enough to know that none of us are unique. But now, we are: The emissaries of a realm of endless war and hate, forced into a world of unscarred and untested beings. We will meet again, oh Sister.” His mouth curled up into a wretched smile, all the hate and malice he had claimed to has lost seemingly radiated from between his rotten teeth. “And when we do, The Smiling One and all his slaves shall tremble in fear."

Glowing green, toxic looking tendrils erupted from the ground around Okor’s feet and encircled him like the petals of a diseased flower. They quickly closed around him, ensconcing him in their dangerous light before dragging him into the floor.


***

Evangeline woke with a start, an afterimage of Okor’s corrupted smile left upon her retina as she looked around the masonry of her room. She was still covered in a towel, still in the mediation position she was in as she tried to will the Omilium into form. She clutched her chest as she gasped for breath.

Looking down at the bed a fresh shield robe had been formed. Before she had even settled down she tore the towel from her body and donned the garment. Evangeline did not know how things would play out between her and the ruler of this realm, but her worst fears about the plague that threatened to consume the bodies and souls of the denizens of the moor were confirmed, and she would need more than a Lasgun and a Power Sword to save them.