Immaterium
Sanguinius, Great Angel
He woke up in the infinite void of the Immaterium, surrounded on all sides by rivers of different energies swirling around, as if in the eye of a cyclone. At first he felt nothing; he simply was, not knowing who he was, what he was, or even if he existed at all. Then came the pain... the pain that seemed to tear his very self apart, only to come together and fall apart again
He didn't know how long he had lasted in this cycle, but the pain brought some relief because with it came the certainty that at least he existed. Pain diminished over time, and his consciousness began to return. However, his memories and thoughts were one big chaos, like a puzzle scattered haphazardly across the table.
He didn't know how much time had passed or if it had passed at all, but with an unimaginable effort of will, he began to piece together his shattered mind and soul into a whole. Step by step, fragment by fragment, he remembered who he was, or rather who he had once been. Millions of memories were falling into place again. A brown-haired man in golden armour, glowing like the sun. Emperor... Father.
Then he saw the faces of nineteen others like him, created to lead humanity to a better future. Along with their names, their faces returned, but so did their memories. Anger, sadness, a sense of betrayal, despair. Soon, the memories of his brothers were followed by others, no less painful. The lost lives of his sons, loyal to the end. Billions, perhaps trillions of lives destroyed by the machinations of cruel gods, the blindness of his father, the ambitions and imprudence of his brothers, but also the corruption of imperial officials.
The more of his memories returned, the more anger and despair grew within him. But eventually even they gave way, leaving a void once again, where he, Sanguinius, remained.
Now that he remembered who he was, his previously blurred figure began to take on clearer shapes, to finally become a golden-haired youth with burnt, broken snow-white wings, who floated naked and crouched in the void of the Empyrean. When the memories of the last moments of his life reached him fully, he truly wept, for himself, his brothers and all the victims of the fratricidal war.
Everything they had built, the magnificent vision of the empire, lay in ruins. What's more, the Horus Heresy revealed the disease already ravaging the young empire. Tens of thousands of worlds that followed Horus or simply rebelled, unable to endure the iron tyranny of the Imperium of Mankind, which treated its citizens no better than the xenos did.
Floating in that vast void, undisturbed, free from responsibility, he could for the first time since leaving Baal actually look back on more than two centuries of his life, and what he saw did not fill him with pride, for it was pride, along with stupidity and arrogance, that had contributed to their downfall.
Now that he looked back, so many things could have been avoided. First of all, their father's secrecy and lies had not only left them blind to the threat of the Chaos Gods, but had also caused division among the Primarchs. Instead of calming it, he had only fuelled it.
The best example of this was Magnus and his Thousand Sons. He had not known what the emperor had hoped to achieve by simply forbidding the psykers from using their powers without explaining why they shouldn't. Not fully understanding the threat of the Immaterium and the Ruinous Powers, they had been completely unprepared when the chaos attacked, sowing the seeds of betrayal within their ranks.
Sanguinius could not forgive himself for his own blindness and naivety. He should have seen what was happening much sooner, and he particularly blamed himself for his haste and lack of prudence in responding to Horus' call for help. A mistake that cost them the war. It was said that he was the best of his brothers, but he proved ultimately to weak.
He didn't know how long this bitterness and self-torment accompanied him because in the Immaterium time flows as it wills or does not flow at all. In any case, at some point, something inside him ignited. A small spark that soon grew into a flame of determination. His will burnt like a white inferno.
Much was lost, but while he lived... or rather, while he existed, he could influence what was yet to come. Even if it meant saving one system, one planet, or even one soul, it was worth fighting for. After all, wasn't he the son of the Emperor of Mankind, the one who would lead humanity to a bright future? Even if his father's plan had fallen apart, it didn't mean that something new couldn't be built on top of it. He, SANGUINIUS, would not rest until humanity was free and safe from the horrors of Chaos.
He will hunt, he will destroy, he will kill, he will save, he will heal, and he will restore. If humanity is destined to fall, he will change this destiny or shatter it completely. After all, isn't it natural to want to get back up after a fall, rather than stay on the ground?
The will not to give up, to live and move forward against all odds. Wasn't that the greatest trait of humanity? The will to fight. The will to survive. The will to win. Moving forward, hoping that the future of this grim, dark universe might be a little brighter, that another day on the battlefield, in the mine, in the factory... even in the greatest hell, might be a little better. Isn't that the only thing that pushes humanity forward?
However, one thought haunted him. How on earth was he still alive and hadn't lost his personality? From what little knowledge their father had shared with them, as well as from his numerous conversations with Magnus and his own deductions, it seemed impossible. After death, he should have transformed into pure energy, similar to the one that surrounded him at the moment.
In addition, he could be anywhere, and what's worse, he didn't know what had happened to his father, brothers, and the Empire. Had the Emperor won, or his corrupted by Ruinous Powers brother?
The shock of discovering the existence of the Chaos gods and the true face of the Immaterium was immense. Now it was beginning to dawn on him that he was in enemy territory, not knowing where he was or where to go. He was like a child in the fog.
Carefully and slowly, he allowed his mind to delve into the Warp surrounding him. Somewhere in the distance, if he could call it that, he sensed entities circling on the edge of perception, a muffled sea of whispers, whose meaning was lost somewhere along the way.
He felt them trying to get to him, urging him to come closer. But something blocked them, preventing them from coming any closer.
"They won't get any closer, little one… They are too afraid of what awaits them here. Even the most powerful of them." Sanguinius looked around in surprise, but he couldn't see anything; even his psychic senses couldn't detect anything.
"Who are you? And where?... Show yourself, demon," he cried, strengthening his mental shields and taking his unstable feelings and tangled thoughts into check.
"Should I be offended? Hmh? But I understand your concern and caution." The voice spoke again, but this time a small ball, the size of a human head, made of glowing white light, materialised in front of him.
Strange. He didn't feel any energy typical of chaos from this thing. What's more, the creature emanated an unusual calmness; its presence seemed like the calm surface of a lake on a windless day.
"You do not seem to belong to the forces of chaos, but you are undoubtedly a being of the Warp. Unless you are simply deceiving my thoughts." He replied after a moment, trying to choose his words wisely. He did not know what he was dealing with and how to possibly fight it.
"I do not belong to Chaos; what's more, I am far older than any of the Ruinous Powers, as some call them, as your father used to call them."
"You claim to be older than chaos?… Hmh.You exist in the Immaterium, so you cannot be C'tan or Necron. You must be one of the Old Ones, the creator of the Aeldari. I have seen texts about you on the Craftworld Magc' Sithraal." Sanguinius quickly deduced, but one thing did not add up in his reasoning. The Old Ones were supposed to completely disappear from the galaxy after the lost war with Necrons and their masters.
The ball of light glowed slightly, and he somehow knew subconsciously that it was a sign of satisfaction and approval. After a moment, the creature's calm voice resounded again.
"You weren't far off, young Sanguinius. In truth, I am but a fragment of a once-powerful being, a shadow of my former self, hidden in this place, waiting for the right moment," the other admitted.
This really intrigued him, a true being from myth and legends, and not of humans, but of a much older race.
"Do you have a name? How should I address you? And what do you mean by the right moment?" he asked, his innate curiosity about the world, buried under the mounds of self-criticism and despair after his defeat, coming to the surface.
"My name has long ceased to have any meaning; it is better left to be erased in time. Call me Mad Fool, for that is what my brethren called me before they left this galaxy… Yes... That is exactly what I am. Although you, my dear child, may be the one I have been waiting for."
The Primarch looked at him with surprise and slight disbelief.
"Mad Fool? Is that how I should address you? And why exactly would you wait for me or someone like me? What are your motives?" His voice became tense; what could the fragment of an ancient god, or something equally powerful, want from him?
The ball of light dimmed slightly for a moment, and when his interlocutor did not respond immediately, he took it as a moment of reflection or contemplation.
"Well, you may call me Prophet. Let's say that would more or less reflect my position among my people." Old One replied after a moment, creating more questions than answers.
"You didn't answer my next question. What do you want from me?"
Prophet fell silent for a moment, as if trying to put his thought into the right words.
"I have been observing what is happening in our galaxy, both in the Materium and the Immaterium, for over 60 million years, and with each passing day, no, with every second, this place is becoming worse, corrupted, or destoryed. A world of endless wars." His voice was filled with timeless fatigue and sadness.
"All this time I've been waiting for someone with the right qualities. Qualities that very few have met in all this time, and none have passed the trials I've set before them."
Sanguinius pondered these words. So there were others, but they failed? The question is what happened to them and what will happen to him if he fails those trials?
"You're talking about the right criteria, qualities. What are they?"
"Come with me. I'll show you something, and then I'll answer your question." The Old One replied, suddenly transporting them to another place, where they were floating in front of an unimaginably large vortex of energy, so powerful that just looking at it caused him physical and mental pain.
He turned to the Prophet and asked, pressing his hand to his temple. "Agh. Where are we and what is this?"
"A treasury of all knowledge. Concealing the secrets of the past, present and future. The very centre of reality. The Well of Eternity." The Old One replied. Then he added soothingly. "Give it a moment. Soon the pain will pass."
Sanguinius pondered his words. A treasury of knowledge both past and future? How could such a thing exist? In moments like this it truly dawned on him how little his race knew about the world around them.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"This is the first of the trials. With my help, you will peer into the Well of Eternity. If you survive, not only will I answer all your questions and help you in every way I can, but what you see will change you."
"Remember, however, not to focus on the future but on the past, if you do not want your soul to evaporate. Now the question remains... Will you try?"
Great Angel turned towards the phenomenon. Now, as the pain truly began to subside, he could appreciate the unique beauty of what was before him. Thousands of colourful weaves and streams created something beyond human comprehension, while hiding secrets ready to shatter a mind of mortals and immortals alike.
Was he ready to take the risk? But did he have anything to lose? He was dead. He did not know if he could somehow return to the world of the living, nor how to survive in the Immaterium without alerting the chaos gods. What's more, this place might hold the answers he needed.
Struggling with his thoughts, he finally replied, his voice more confident than he felt, "I will undertake your trials… Shall we begin?"
He could clearly feel the joy radiating from the Prophet at his words. "Then let us begin. Focus your senses on the Well, and I will guide you further."
He did as he was told. Soon he felt as if he were being pulled inside, then darkness filled him, and a moment later he awoke floating in an endless white void filled with countless thin, multi-coloured threads, intertwining in all directions.
"These ribbons of light", said the prophet, "contain within them your past and all the events related to it. From the moment you were created in the laboratory by your father until now."
"The amount of information and knowledge contained within them would be enough to disintegrate the mind of a mortal, even an enhanced one. And that's just part of the danger. The hardest part is facing the truth because you will be looking at your past from the outside, not from your own perspective, which often blurs it or makes us perceive it in an acceptable for us way. Grab one of them."
More questions rose in the mind of the best of the emperor's sons, but he realised that the time had come to act, not to ask questions, so clenching his jaw, he grabbed the purple ribbon that snaked next to his right hand without hesitation.
Then it began. Even if he wanted to, he could not describe what he was experiencing. It was beyond human comprehension. He expected to see past events replayed before his eyes.
But instead, every day, every second, he experienced from the perspective of every being nearby. When he was created, he felt his father's hope and joy, mixed with his cold calculation. Malcador's doubts. The fear and anger of the Ruinous Powers.
When he fought mutants, xenos, or demons, he saw and felt himself killing and being killed at the same time. He was himself, but he was also the Aeldari whose skull was crushed by his hand.
These alien thoughts of the xenos, and especially the demons' perspectives full of hatred and malice, made him want to vomit, but those rare moments when he experienced events from the perspective of the chaos gods were the worst. At those times, he only wanted to scratch his eyes out and destroy himself just to not experience it.
He finally understood what they were really facing. The power and malice of these beings went beyond human understanding. There were no words to describe how evil they were, even from the perspective of a man who had seen nothing but war, death, and other horrors of this world his entire life.
He didn't know how much time had passed; it seemed like an eternity, during which his mind had almost broken down many times, and his soul had been consumed by this madness.
At some point, however, everything stopped, and his eyes were once more filled with the image of himself standing in front of the Eternity Gate, giving a speech to the defenders.
"I had my eye on you earlier." The prophet appeared to his right. "You and your brother Vulkan. There was compassion in you, but also an iron will, rarely seen together in this grimdark universe."
"But it was you who shone brighter and brighter for me with every moment of this civil war. Your will tempered by the struggles with Black Rage and Red Thirst, your concern not only for your sons but for the common people of the empire. But it was your defence of Terra and your speech that assured me that you were the right choice."
Sanguinius turned his head away from him, feeling slightly embarrassed. He didn't like being praised. He didn't feel worthy of it. He was far from perfect.
"I know what you would like to say." The Old One continued, his voice warm and understanding. "That you are not perfect... And that is good, I say. I am not looking for someone who is; it is impossible."
"I am looking for someone who struggles with his own weaknesses and understands the weaknesses of others. Because of your struggles and your sons' struggles with your flaws, you are more understanding of people and their mistakes; you do not look down on them because you yourself fight with your darker nature."
They were both silent for a moment.
"Do you know what I see when I look upon this scene?" Prophet finally said, and Sanguinius fixed his gaze on the events unfolding before his eyes.
"Desperate men, fighting against horrors to allow humanity to survive another hour?" he asked, his voice full of pain at the memories he had experienced earlier. This was undoubtedly the worst moment of the trial.
"That too. But most of all I see strength, yet compassion; valour, yet righteous anger; unyielding will, yet love; sacrifice, yet hope, all in one person, the brightest soul in this galaxy."
"You have passed my test, boy. And your mind and Will have been forged into an indestructible armour, having survived something that should have destroyed you utterly, like so many before you. Even Tzeentch, that foul creature, fears to look into the Well of Eternity."
"Now the most important question remains. Do you wish to make this dark galaxy a brighter place?"
The question hung in the air between them. Sanguinius didn't have to think long to know what had to be done. No... what he wanted to do.
"Yes. I do," he replied, to which Ole One flashed his light, clearly pleased with his answer."
"Come, so we have much to do, and you probably have many questions. Time for you to meet the others."
"The others?" he asked, frowning.
"You didn't think I was the only 'Mad Fool' who dared to remain in this galaxy, did you? There are three of us. The remaining two stand guard."
"Guarding what?" he asked, now even more intrigued. Two beings as powerful as prophets could not guard something ordinary.
"The trail you have walked and those that await you, they are not just our whims. They have a purpose, which you will soon learn.