IMPERIUM OF MAN – HOLY TERRA
LABORATORY 00 – "SPES"
The laboratory was a vast cathedral of iron and light, alive with the hum of arcane machinery and sacred instruments of the Mechanicum. Golden light filtered in through high gothic-arched windows, illuminating arrays of cogitators, vats, and incubation tanks. Servitors moved methodically, their metallic limbs hissing as they performed their ceaseless tasks in silence—a silence so absolute it seemed to press upon the ears.
Constantin Valdor stood immovable, his golden form a sentinel beside the Master of Mankind. The Emperor sat before a desk of adamantium, examining a set of aged parchments with quiet intensity. Beside Valdor stood a cloaked figure, barely stirring, though the anticipation beneath his hood was palpable.
"It's good to see you, Constantin. Still not much of a talker, I see," came a dry, croaking voice from beneath the cloak.
Valdor's brow twitched, but he replied flatly.
"I'm simply shocked. You've lived within these walls for millennia and I never sensed your presence. It forces me to question the Palace's security... and my own competence." He shook his head faintly. "Many questions come to mind, but few answers bring clarity, Malcador."
"Do not be so hard on yourself," the Sigillite replied, a whisper of amusement curling his voice. "I cannot be found if I do not wish it. My "death" was commanded by the Lord Himself."
Valdor grunted, but said no more.
Then, without warning, the Emperor lifted His head from the documents, His golden eyes locking onto them. The air thickened. Valdor stiffened instinctively, while Malcador's gaze sharpened.
"You've made great strides, Malcador. This will suffice," the Emperor said, nodding in approval.
"My thanks, Lord. The psykers have been trained in secret for centuries. With your plan, we've funneled them to Terra beneath the guise of sacrificial offerings. With the illusion of your demise, the ruinous powers turned their gaze elsewhere. It allowed us to nurture them in shadow. But none of it would have been possible without Atrius, Your Majesty."
At the mention of the name, Valdor's expression darkened faintly—an involuntary flicker of emotion.
The Emperor turned His gaze on him with surgical precision.
"Worry not, Constantin. He is lost, not fallen."
Valdor bowed his head. "Apologies, my Lord. I never doubted Your will."
"I have not forgotten who you are, my loyal spear," the Emperor said, His voice lower now. "And may it never be said that I would send my own blood to his death… Is that not right, Malcador?"
Valdor's eyes widened a fraction—no shock, only confirmation. He had long suspected.
Malcador gave a slow, subtle nod. "Indeed, my Lord. You see, Valdor, this was all a ruse—to lull the Chaos Gods into slumber. I believe you're aware of the unique nature of the Last Son?"
"I am," Valdor replied. "His origin was sealed in your archives. I studied them after… your supposed death. His capabilities—his importance—are unmatched."
"What was documented was... incomplete," Malcador said with a crooked smile. "Only the Lord knew the truth. And with those capabilities, we have achieved the nearly impossible."
The Emperor moved across the lab, His golden form bathed in cold lumen light, until He stood before a massive glass cylinder. Steam coiled from the vents beneath it.
"Atrius' very existence dulled the senses of the warp," the Emperor said softly. "He clouded our eyes. For centuries, even beings of immense power—myself, Malcador, the Chaos Gods—struggled to see futures while he lived. That anomaly granted us precious time."
He placed His armoured palm gently against the glass, the tube glowing faintly.
"I saw him at the time. Saw how he clawed his way through the Immaterium to reach me. I didn't understand at first. But before I could grasp it—his life was taken. Torn away from me once more."
The Emperor's reflection shimmered on the glass, and within it, He no longer saw Himself—but Atrius.
Malcador and Valdor froze. Such unguarded emotion from the Master of Mankind was unheard of.
"I couldn't let him go again," the Emperor said. "So I reached into the warp. I snatched his soul from the currents and rebuilt him. From his broken body, I forged a new vessel. I gave him life again."
He gestured grandly to the lab around them.
Malcador conjured a sealed document and handed it to Valdor wordlessly. The Chief Custodian accepted it, eyes scanning the script with growing gravity.
"He grew strong," the Emperor continued. "Stronger than I expected. In time, I saw in him a reflection of myself—unsurprising, perhaps. But he surpassed even that. I placed him under your care, Constantin, not to make him a Custodes… but he became one. He absorbed your strength, your discipline, as if he were born to it."
"He had little psychic potential at first," the Emperor mused aloud. "But his time with me changed that. He began to adapt. Evolve. Mimic the traits of those around him—not intentionally, but instinctively. A creature shaped by influence, forged in reflection."
Valdor stood in silence, reading, listening, understanding.
THEMYSCIRA – CAVE
Light spilled gently into the cavern, dancing across the still pond like molten gold. The natural stone glistened faintly with moisture, the air warm and heavy with the scent of moss and mineral.
Atrius sat alone near the water's edge, massive and silent.
His red eyes narrowed slightly.
His irises flickered—briefly shifting in hue before settling again.
lightning flickered on his fingers
"…Hmm?" he hummed, low and confused.
He rose to his feet. His colossal frame cast a long shadow across the crystalline waters.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each step echoed, making the cave walls tremble. Startled, the small fish darted away beneath the surface.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
He waded into the pond with deliberate calm. Even at its deepest, the water only reached his knees.
Splash.
He lowered himself slowly, steam curling from his body as the cold met his unnatural heat.
"Hmph," he exhaled, leaning back against the damp cave wall.
The water began to bubble around him.
Steam rose.
And silence reigned.