=== Nira ===
"My son," the woman said softly, her voice like ancient wind brushing through dead leaves, at once gentle and infinitely old.
Sanguinius froze, his expression unreadable. The word seemed to hang in the air, charged with the raw, aching weight of a thousand years.
He took a step forward, his gaze burning into her like twin suns.
"You… were said to have died," he began, his tone cold and edged with restrained fury. "Erebus himself claimed to have killed you."
He started to move, slow and deliberate, circling the courtyard like a predator assessing its prey.
"But instead… here you are. Old. Decrepit. A mockery of the once beautiful woman who was said to have loved the Emperor."
Mother Talzin, once Erda, offered him a faint, knowing smile. There was no anger in it. Only memory. Regret. And something deeper.
"My death was… exaggerated," she said quietly. "Erebus came closer to killing me than anyone ever has. In desperation, I did the unthinkable. I tore a hole through the Warp itself and fled into its howling madness. I escaped with my life, yes… but not without cost."
She lifted a hand and gestured around her. "Now I am here. Now I am diminished. A fraction of what I once was. And as my power fades, the long embrace of time finally touches me. I began to age. I began… to decay."
Sanguinius stopped beside a cracked pillar carved with ancient symbols and ran a gauntleted hand across its surface. His wings glimmered in the Warp-light, their edges twitching with barely contained emotion.
"From the golden halls of the Imperial Palace," he murmured, "to the lowest of caves."
There was venom in his tone, not out of cruelty, but pain.
"I know…" Erda said softly. "I know you must despise me for my role in your scattering."
Sanguinius turned to her, and there was fire in his eyes now.
"Your role?" he scoffed. "You speak as though you were some distant participant, some spectator. You were the reason."
His voice rose.
"You tore us from our Emperor's hand before we were ready. You condemned us to lifetimes of war, of isolation, of madness and death. Of hardship. You must know what happened to Angron. To Mortarion. You shattered us. I wonder, truly wonder, what would have become of us had you done nothing at all."
Erda looked down for a moment, the weight of centuries reflected in her eyes. "So do I," she admitted. "Every day. Every time I see a star flicker out, or a life twisted by Chaos, I ask myself that very question."
She raised her eyes to meet his again.
"But if I hadn't acted… do you truly believe He would have treated you differently? You were His creations. His weapons. Do you think he would have actually ever loved you?"
Sanguinius clenched his fists. He wanted to argue. To deny it. But he couldn't. He couldn't go back and change it.
Erda's expression softened, though it did not grow warm.
"But that is the past. You may hate me for it, despise me, if you must. Your anger is justified. I will not ask your forgiveness. I do not deserve it."
She stepped forward, the mist swirling at her feet like living cloth.
"But now… is not the time to relive the past. Now is the time to speak of the future."
She raised her hand slowly and gestured toward Nira, who stood watching in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the revelation unraveling before her.
Before Nira could react, her body was lifted from the ground by unseen forces. The Warp surged, coiling around her like green flame. Her cloak fluttered in the ethereal wind as she floated gently across the courtyard toward Erda.
Sanguinius's eyes widened, and his wings flared. In a heartbeat, a shimmering blade manifested in his hand, its tip angled toward Erda.
"Unhand her," he snarled, stepping forward with wrath rising in his voice. "Touch her again, and I will end you!"
Talzin ignored the weapon completely. Her eyes were locked on Nira's face as she reached up with her gnarled, bony fingers and gently gripped the young woman's cheeks, holding her as if studying a precious relic.
Sanguinius took another step, blade trembling with restrained fury.
"I said—"
"Put the blade away," Erda interrupted, still not looking at him. Her voice was firm, sharp with command.
"You are barely holding your manifestation together, my son. Your will is great, but you are far from whole. This body you wear now, this shadow of yourself, carries only a sliver of the power you once wielded."
She turned slowly, her gaze settling on him with cold finality.
"Yes, you could destroy me. Annihilate my soul from this world and the next. But not here. Not now. Not in this place, where the Warp answers only to me. You are too weak. Your soul itself is still healing after being shattered.
Sanguinius stopped, breathing heavily, the blade trembling in his grip before slowly dissipating into mist.
"What I must show you," Erda continued, now looking back to Nira, "is too important to be marred by your grief and my guilt. This galaxy teeters on the edge of a blade, more than you know."
Nira felt a sudden warmth radiate through her body, as if the Warp itself were drawing breath.
Erda's voice grew quieter, but no less intense.
"There is more in you than the Jedi ever dared to see. You are not simply a conduit of the Force. But the Warp as well."
"You must have felt it," Erda continued, her voice low and echoing strangely in the cavernous sanctum. "The pull. The whisper from the depths of the Warp. It calls to you, doesn't it?"
Nira's lips parted, but no words came at first. Her fingers twitched at her sides as if itching to draw her lightsaber, to feel something familiar. But the memory from Geonosis struck her too quickly.
The chaos. The blood. The swirling insanity of the Warp. The whispers in her mind. The laughter.
"I won't," she said at last, voice shaking as she stepped back. "I won't touch it again."
Erda tilted her head slightly, the green glow from the sanctum's mist casting deep shadows across her ancient features.
"Won't?" she asked gently. "Or can't?"
Nira's throat tightened.
"After what happened on Geonosis," she whispered. "After what I felt, and what I saw… I can't go back into that place. There was a… a presence. A being. It's waiting for me."
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Tzeentch."
At that, Erda gave a quiet, almost amused laugh. Not mocking, but like a fire crackling in the hearth of old wisdom.
"Yes. The Architect of Fate," she said. "The Twister of Truth. One of the four great parasites that dwell in the Warp. He is cunning and powerful… in his own realm."
She gestured around her, to the stone walls etched with runes older than the Republic, to the mist swirling like breath around their feet.
"But not here. Not in this sanctum. This place is sanctified, protected, older than even the birth of those gods. Here, his influence is a shadow, a whisper against the will of the Force. You are safe."
Erda stepped forward, slowly circling her as she set her down.
"You fear the Warp because it is chaotic," she continued. "Because it corrupts. And rightly so. It is a sea of madness, a mirror of the subconscious, where emotion becomes matter and desire gives birth to monsters."
Her fingers waved through the mist, which coiled around them like living silk.
"But it is also the raw essence of power. Infinite and untamed. The source from which all magic and psychic might are born. Even the Force… draws from its fringes at times."
"The Force is not the Warp," Nira insisted, clinging to that truth like a lifeline.
"No," Erda agreed. "It is not. It is its opposite."
She stopped in front of Nira, raising both hands. As she did, two illusions manifested between them: one a churning storm of color and screaming faces—the Warp; the other a sphere of calm blue-white light, radiating serenity—the Force.
"The Warp is destruction, creation, madness, and freedom. The Force is harmony, clarity, unity, and order. One is power unshackled; the other, peace refined."
She looked directly into Nira's eyes.
"Together, they form a whole."
Nira frowned. "The Jedi would say the Warp is pure corruption."
"And yet the Jedi do not understand the Force either," Erda replied calmly. "They fear what lies beyond their narrow walls. That is not wisdom. It is blindness wrapped in robes of discipline."
Sanguinius stirred nearby, his wings shifting uneasily, but he said nothing.
Erda stepped closer, her presence now more intense, almost luminous in the dim light.
"In order for you to survive the war to come, child, you must learn to walk between both realms. You must drink from the well of the Warp to find strength… and then bathe in the light of the Force to purify yourself."
She raised a hand to Nira's chest, just above her heart.
"The Emperor chose you not because you were strong in the Force. Many are. But because you are one of the very, very few who can survive both."
Nira's lips trembled, her brow furrowed with confusion and fear. "I don't know if I can."
Erda's gaze softened, her voice lowering to a near whisper.
"You must. Or the deal you made with Him will be meaningless. This galaxy stands on the edge of ruin. The Ruinous powers stir. The veil grows thin. If you cannot master both powers, you will be consumed by them. One way… or another."
"If you need more convincing…" she said, slowly lifting her hand, her gnarled fingers curling like the roots of a blackened tree, "then let me show you the true reason I have called you here."
The mist that clung to the sanctum floor surged upward like smoke caught in a reverse gale, swirling around Nira's form. It coiled tightly around her limbs, her waist, her chest, before spiraling toward her eyes.
Nira's breath caught as her vision went white, then black.
===
The roar of war thundered in her ears.
She found herself standing atop a jagged cliff overlooking the battlefield of Mortis, the mythical realm at the center of the Force itself, now desecrated by Chaos. The once-pristine sky of twilight shimmered with unnatural storms, rent open by swirling rifts into the Warp. Blood-colored lightning arced across the heavens, and the land below was fire, ash, and ruin.
The armies of the Imperium and Republic were arrayed in desperate defense.
On the ground below, hundreds of Astartes fought with unwavering fury. Ultramarines in immaculate blue-and-gold livery stood shoulder to shoulder, firing bolters into tides of gibbering Chaos spawn. Their lines buckled but never broke, even as daemonic monstrosities tore into their ranks.
And at the center of this battle stood one Astartes.
Maximus.
The towering figure of the Ultramarine commander stood like a god among mortals. His thunder hammer crackled with enough energy to split tanks in two. Each swing obliterated scores of daemons, reducing their grotesque forms to bursts of foul ichor and Warp flame. His armor was dented and scarred, painted in streaks of blood and the charred remnants of lesser daemons, yet he did not falter.
To his left, Raxor, his massive heavy bolter sang through the air, carving through Chaos Marines in frenzied abandon. The Salamander's snarls were heard even over the din of war as he led a wedge of assault marines into the thickest part of the enemy line.
On his right, Sebastian struck with the fury of a man who had long ago surrendered his soul to vengeance. His blade cleaved through a Plaguebearer's torso before sweeping into a charging Khorne Berserker, cutting him down mid-roar.
The line of Astartes extended in either direction, hundreds of Ultramarines, fighting in perfect coordination beside clone troopers in gleaming white armor. ARC troopers dropped into pockets of daemons, carving out positions to hold alongside the Angels of Death.
Above them, Jedi leapt and spun, sabers flashing with brilliance. Nira recognized Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, and others from the High Council, backs to Astartes, fighting as one. For once, there was unity between the warriors of different Universes.
Then, the ground shook.
The air grew heavy, thick with blood and smoke, as a monstrous figure stepped from a Warp portal.
A Bloodthirster, massive, red-skinned, its wings like shredded banners, its burning axe taller than most men, descended with a bellow that sent shockwaves across the battlefield.
Against it stood a handful of figures.
Anakin Skywalker, the "Chosen One", leapt forward, blue saber blazing with fury. He moved like a whirlwind. His command over the Force was undeniable as he held the massive daemon at bay, barely.
Beside him, Captain Rex directed clone squads, twin pistols firing into daemonic flesh as he covered Jedi flanks. Ahsoka, agile and fierce, darted beneath the Bloodthirster's guard, twin sabers carving deep gouges in its legs. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought alongside them, doing what they could to hold the massive daemon back.
Yet even together, they were being pushed back.
Nira's heart clenched as she saw Anakin falter. Ahsoka, reckless and brave, tried to draw the Bloodthirster's attention. It was far too much.
The daemon's long, barbed tail whipped out, striking like a serpent. Ahsoka cried out.
The barbs pierced clean through her chest, lifting her off the ground. Her sabers fell first. Then her body.
Anakin screamed, the Force erupting around him in a violent pulse, sending the daemon stumbling back, but the damage was done.
He caught her in his arms, falling to his knees.
Nira cried out, but the vision did not stop.
She was then pulled elsewhere, to the center of the battlefield, where a great altar had risen, formed from black iron and the bones of thousands.
A Chaos Sorcerer stood atop it, commanding the tides of daemons with sweeping gestures of his clawed sword. The Warp around him seethed, distorting reality, twisting the air into nightmarish reflections.
Facing him were five figures, each of them radiant in their own deadly purpose.
Maximus, now bloodied but still unbowed, his presence a black hole in the Warp, nullifying Kharath's spells.
Raxor, his armor cracked and broken, stood tall as his Iron Halo protected himself and others.
Sebastian, blade glowing red-hot with daemonic blood, advancing despite his wounds.
Dooku was among them. His saber a needlepoint of blue light. His eyes were fierce, his presence composed. He fought with all the elegance of a master duelist.
And at the center, the Father was laid out at their feet, alive, but barely.
But the Sorcerer was no fool.
He feigned retreat. Baited the aging Jedi Master forward.
Then struck.
A blast of pure Warp energy flared from his staff, bypassing Maximus's null aura by inches. It struck Dooku directly in the chest.
The Jedi staggered, dropped to one knee, and then collapsed.
Nira screamed out for her master.
Maximus' thunder hammer crackled as he hurled himself at Kharath, smashing the sorcerer back with earth-shattering force. The other Astartes joined him, surrounding the Chaos Lord in a whirlwind of fury.
Then, the portal.
A gaping wound in reality behind the altar, leading directly into the Warp before a massive Bloodthirster came through.
Sebastian, ever the warrior, threw himself at the Bloodthirster, taking him from the Sorcerers side.
Maximus raised his hammer and struck the final blow, shattering Kharath's staff. The Sorcerer reeled, and Raxor tackled him, bearing him toward the portal.
With a last cry, Kharath was cast into the Warp, consumed by the rift he himself had opened.
But the cost…
As the battle concluded she was able to finally see the price paid for survival.
Sebastian lay dead, surrounded by the remains of the Bloodthirster Kharath had summoned. His brother knelt beside him. He had slain the Greater Daemon in single combat, but his body was broken, his sword still impaled in the daemon's eye.
Clone bodies were everywhere.
Ahsoka's lightsabers lay extinguished on the blood-soaked ground.
And Anakin knelt beside her corpse, silent, empty, broken.
The vision faded.
Nira gasped as the sanctum returned around her as she fell to her knees. Her hands shook. Tears blurred her eyes.
Erda stood unmoved, her face impassive.
"This," she said solemnly, "is the price of inaction. The cost of fear."
She stepped forward.
"You can walk away. You can reject the Warp. But know this… if you do, then when the final blade falls, it will not be on your enemies."
She leaned in closer.
"It will be on those you love, and the vision will come true, though many more will die."
Nira swallowed, the fire in her chest burning through the fear as she reached up and gripped Mother Talzin's wrist.
"…Teach me."
Erda smiled faintly.
"Good. Then let us begin."
===
If you enjoyed this chapter, maybe consider leaving me with a couple of your power stones? I promise I'll take good care of them:)