The moment the Great Horned Rat laid its claws upon Erda and tore her away, the Emperor sensed it. It was an intrusion that kindled a rare spark of shock and cold fury within him.
"How… how can the abominations of the Warp manifest their strength upon Holy Terra itself?" The Emperor frowned, his consciousness sweeping across the throneworld, and indeed the entire Sol System, searching for the tell-tale stains of the Dark Gods' touch.
In this age, the Emperor had draped Holy Terra in a seamless aegis of psychic protection. Coupled with the relentless propagation of the Imperial Truth, there should have been no purchase for the Ruinous Powers, neither physically nor spiritually. If there were, the Four would not have been forced to look toward Horus for their opportunity.
"I shall go and retrieve her," Malcador offered.
"No... it matters not. Erda has fulfilled her purpose; this is but a minor deviation. However, we must investigate how the foul powers of the Warp have managed to bypass the wards of Terra."
The Emperor's feelings toward Erda, the follower who had shattered his grand design for the Primarchs, were labyrinthine. He harbored a deep-seated resentment for her betrayal, yet beneath it lay a sliver of nuanced guilt. It was for this reason that, despite knowing she resided within the Eye of the Sahara, he had never sought retribution. But that was the extent of his mercy.
The Emperor racked his mind but could not fathom why a Warp entity would abduct her. Was it for the knowledge of the Primarchs' creation? But it was common knowledge that forging the Primarchs' physical vessels was the simplest part of the task; the true labor lay in securing the Warp-essence of minor deities.
The Emperor had utilized his own peerless might and his unique link to humanity, bartering with the Four to pluck the nascent gods of mankind from the tides of the Aether to serve as his sons. In the end, unable to divine the motive, he forced the matter from his mind and returned to the cold logic of the Webway Project.
…
Within the Realm of Ruin.
Erda awoke from a state of formless chaos. To her surprise, she did not behold a landscape of nightmare or the shifting madness of the Warp. Instead, she found herself within a room that appeared identical to a dwelling from the twenty-first century of Old Terra.
"Where is this?" Though Erda was a Perpetual and a psyker of immense power, she had never truly set foot within the personal domains of the gods.
"Welcome, Erda."
The voice was that of an ordinary young man. Erda turned, her senses on a razor's edge. Standing there was a youth of about twenty, with dark hair and eyes, possessing a distinctly handsome countenance. He wore casual urban attire, and the language he spoke was not the High Gothic prevalent in the Imperium, but an ancient dialect of English.
In the current Imperium, the nation where English originated had long since vanished. On the eve of the Unification Wars, the entire realm had disappeared in a sudden, continent-spanning fire. The Emperor had merely claimed they had departed the galaxy as one, and never spoke of it again.
"You are human—no, that is incorrect. This resonance belongs only to a pure entity of the Warp. What are you truly, daemon?" Erda's voice was sharp, a command for truth.
"Did you recognize me so quickly? I thought adopting these clothes, which even I find somewhat foreign now, might lend a sense of familiarity." Lucius touched his sleeve. He hadn't worn the attire of his previous life in a very long time. Since his arrival in this universe, the black robes had become a second skin, a part of his very essence.
"But... your soul. I feel something familiar. It is as if a human soul has been encased in the power of Chaos," Erda said, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Not encased, it is part of me now. Do you never wonder where the 'eternal' lives and psychic might of you so-called Perpetuals truly originate?" Lucius stood up, appearing somewhat dissatisfied as he looked at Erda, who bore the features of a woman from ancient Central Asia.
Erda nodded slowly. "There is truth in that. Humans who attain immortality are rare, but they exist. However, one like you... you are unique."
As the Mother of Primarchs and one of the Emperor's oldest peers, Erda's understanding of the human soul was deep. Like the Emperor, she could see the human core of Lucius's essence. This realization allowed her to relax, if only slightly.
"Haha, I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you," Lucius said with a grin.
"Why have you brought me here? Surely you aren't about to claim, like that hypocritical tyrant, that you wish to contribute to the future of mankind?" Erda said, her tone half mocking, half questioning.
"I am not that noble. I only wish to satisfy myself," Lucius said, shrugging. "I invited you here because I want you to create new Primarchs for me. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it?"
Erda's eyes narrowed. "As I suspected. I'm sorry... I have no interest in letting my children become tools for another's ambition."
"I went to a great deal of trouble to 'invite' you; I don't intend to let you idle." Lucius raised a hand and traced a circle in the air. Like a cinema screen, the horrific state of the Imperium ten millennia in the future flickered into being before Erda's eyes.
"This is—!"
Erda had intended to ignore him, but she was instantly paralyzed by the visions: an empire of feudal superstition, of crushing oppression, and a grim, stagnant misery.
"You are a powerful psyker. You can discern truth from falsehood," Lucius tempted. "Serve me, Erda. Help me, and I can prevent humanity from falling into this wretched fate. The Emperor can even continue his life as a hermit in his palace."
"You? Do you expect me to believe you possess such benevolence?"
"Fine, I shall show you my true desire. Consider it a gesture of sincerity." Lucius knew Erda had betrayed the Emperor precisely because he treated the Primarchs as tools and forced a vision of human galactic hegemony that she found abhorrent.
Lucius then unveiled the future he envisioned:
The Warp would be entirely suppressed under his reign. The various races of the galaxy, including humanity, would exist in a state of precarious balance. Wars would be constant, yet peace and cooperation would emerge in the interludes. Humanity would be stripped of its extreme xenophobia and hatred. Under his control, the Warp and realspace would achieve a perfect equilibrium.
It looked much like the order of human civilization before it stepped off the cradle of Earth, before the horrors of the Dark Age of Technology.
Of course, Lucius omitted certain details, namely, that he had no intention of sitting upon a Golden Throne of agony. He would be the Game Master, a 'GM' manipulating reality at his whim. He would simply be less extreme than the current Four.
Looking at the future Lucius displayed, Erda felt her resolve waver. She had never agreed with the Emperor's policy of human galactic dominance, believing that reaching such a peak made destruction and decline inevitable. She had seen enough of the suffering following the Iron Rebellion.
"I... why should I trust you?" Erda asked, swallowing hard.
"I have no guarantees to offer, and the Great Horned Rat makes no honest promises to anyone," Lucius said with a laugh. "But you have a choice, don't you? Either trust me and bring a perfect balance to the galaxy, letting the mortal realms flourish through controlled strife, or watch the Imperium of Man rot piece by piece."
Erda hesitated for a long time. Finally, she looked up at Lucius. "I have one condition... I must have custody of the Primarchs. I will raise them."
Lucius nearly choked. So you're fighting me for custody? he thought. Fine, you can take that up with Isha later.
"Agreed," Lucius nodded.
——————
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