The sky above Doms was a perpetual shroud of iron-gray cloud.
Forks of pale lightning split the darkness, illuminating Mordecai's ashen face for the briefest instant before vanishing into the storm.
Rain fell in endless sheets.
Droplets hammered against stone tiles and palace eaves. Thunder rolled across the horizon like distant artillery. Wind screamed through the courtyards, driving ripples across flooded flagstones.
"So quiet…"
His voice was thin — almost spectral.
Then, when it came again, it was the same voice — but layered with something else.
Joy.
Mockery.
Anticipation.
"It will be noisy soon."
His gaze passed through the courtyard and beyond the palace walls.
Fire burned across Doms.
Cities.
Jungles.
Fortifications.
Flames danced joyfully beneath the torrential rain, refusing to die.
Hundreds of thousands of Astartes stood with their backs to the palace, Titans towering among them like silent mountains. They faced outward — as if awaiting a sovereign… or preparing to receive an enemy.
Suddenly, Mordecai collapsed to his knees.
His hands covered his face.
He began to sob.
His body lay nearly prostrate upon the wet stone.
At his right temple, a dried, cavernous wound gaped open — an injury that should have killed any living being.
Yet he wept.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"
He had never told anyone.
He envied his brothers.
They possessed purpose.
Dreams.
Beliefs.
They lived as themselves.
Mordecai's purpose had died long ago.
From birth, he had lived for others.
If he could, he might have hated them.
If they had not placed such hope upon him…
Would he have lived differently?
But he had no right.
They loved him.
They gave him everything.
Love is the heaviest shackle.
Heavier than the chains of any slave.
And he had worn those chains all his life.
Because they loved him, he believed he must free them.
Because he was stronger, he must fight.
If he failed, the blame was his alone.
He failed.
He could not save them.
It was his fault.
If not his fault, whose?
He had wanted to die beside his family.
Instead, he fled.
Because his grandfather demanded he live.
From that day forward, he despised himself.
Was it obedience?
Or cowardice?
When he arrived on Doms, he intended to die.
Instead, he found a child about to be torn apart by beasts.
He saved him.
He did not know why.
Perhaps pity.
Perhaps he saw slaves struggling to survive.
He named the child Mordecai.
He gave him knowledge.
Strength.
Guidance.
But never expectations.
He would not chain another life.
On a rain-soaked night, two strangers came to his door.
They claimed to be his family.
He knew immediately what they truly were:
Hope.
Expectation.
Burden.
When the Emperor offered him purpose, he accepted without hesitation.
As he always had.
He became a prince of the Imperium.
He led his sons to war.
He witnessed victories and losses.
And for a time…
the past loosened its grip.
Then the Rangdan war began.
The shadows returned.
He could not escape.
So he sought revenge.
On his nightmare.
The nightmare endured.
Yuki was gravely wounded.
The Imperium suffered grievous losses.
The Rangdan anticipated Imperial strategy with terrifying precision.
Never had defeat weighed so heavily.
He felt guilt — crushing, suffocating guilt.
But this time he did not destroy himself with it.
Because Yuki would not have wished it.
She was one of the few who loved him without expectation.
He would not hurt her.
But—
what if he already had?
His memories fractured.
He saw alien hosts kneeling before him.
He saw strategies formed with flawless precision.
Solutions to problems the Imperium had never understood.
That wasn't me.
That was me.
Erased memories returned like floodwater breaking a dam.
He told himself:
Enemy manipulation.
Not me.
Not me.
In a deeper memory:
Mordecai died with his slave family.
What remained was a monster wearing his face.
Lies.
We lie.
Another memory surfaced.
Older.
Colder.
You were the Emperor of the Rangdan.
First among them.
Conqueror of species.
Architect of annihilation.
You discovered an anomaly:
An ultimate weapon.
A being of unparalleled biological power.
But his soul resisted you.
So you toyed with him.
You let him believe he could free his people.
You let him taste hope.
Then you struck.
You seized his body.
But you underestimated him.
His soul overwhelmed yours.
You awakened believing you were him.
You helped slaves escape.
You fought the Rangdan.
You became Mordecai.
How ironic.
The Rangdan Emperor…
defender of humanity.
But memory returned.
The dormant consciousness awakened.
Yet another self suppressed it.
Mordecai's consciousness should have vanished long ago.
Instead, the Rangdan Emperor had split himself…
creating another Mordecai.
Sometimes the Rangdan Emperor seized control.
Opened breaches.
Commanded fleets.
Destroyed Imperial forces.
Mordecai refused the truth.
"You're lying."
We are lying.
We are inseparable.
We are Rangdan.
We are the King.
When Yuki came to see him, he could not beg for help.
He could not change his expression.
"You know the truth," the voice whispered.
"You simply refuse to accept it."
"No…"
"Then I will prove it."
He traveled alone to an untouched alien world.
No Rangdan influence.
No contamination.
He concealed his presence.
He seized a native lifeform.
In its own language, voice trembling, he spoke:
"I am Rangdan."
The creature's eyes glazed.
It knelt.
"Long live Rangdan. Your Majesty."
"No…"
He crushed it.
"You're lying…"
World after world.
The same result.
Even where Rangdan had never walked.
The same answer.
He pressed a plasma pistol to his temple.
"What do you intend?" the other voice asked.
"I cannot choose my birth," he whispered.
"But I can choose my death."
White plasma detonated.
A catastrophic wound opened in his skull.
He did not fall.
He laughed.
"Well? Admit it now?"
"…Never mind," the other voice replied.
"I will not lose to you."
"It's us," Mordecai whispered, rising.
"And you have already lost."
Thunderhawk gunships descended.
The Second Legion crushed the alien world.
Mordecai ran toward him.
"Father— how could you—"
"Run, Mordecai! Run!"
Too late.
The Primarch's hand struck like lightning.
It pierced the boy's chest.
Mordecai stared in disbelief.
The hand withdrew.
He fell.
The voice of Mordecai faded.
Only the cold authority of the Rangdan Emperor remained.
The legionaries did not react.
"Assemble him," the Emperor of Rangdan commanded.
"Conversion will begin immediately. Then we depart for Doms."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He smiled.
The Mordecai consciousness still resisted.
He would erase it.
He would destroy everything it loved.
"Doms… the Imperium… all will fall."
Aboard the warp-route vessel racing toward Doms, Yuki's mind burned with urgency.
"Father," she asked through psychic communion, "is it possible to alter consciousness without altering the soul?"
"I do not know," the Emperor replied.
"Those we believed controlled showed no change in their souls. That misled us."
Silence.
"Can the Rangdan possess a Primarch consciousness?"
"If one entered Ryan's mind… then it is possible."
Yuki closed her eyes.
"If the soul remains unchanged… can they use a Primarch's warp nature?"
A long pause followed.
"…I do not know."
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