Chapter Text
The Empyrean….an abyssal miasma of eldritch psychic energy, a place where everything and nothing exists, where anything is and everything isn't. Where possibility and impossibility become one. Where the souls of all of sentience reside, where they form the very ocean that they reside in. It's the mirror of the Materium, one shrouded and obscured.
But in places, indeed, in many places in this Age of Darkness, that veil is thin…loose…fragmented, even torn, pocketed in ever-sizable holes and eyes.
It is not only those souls that reside here in this turbulent place, for in this eldritch sea reside daemons. Manifestations of all emotions, of all ideals and all thoughts and all actions. Here gods are birthed and destroyed in their multitudes with every passing moment. These daemons hunger and devour, feeding off these things as a starving man would when presented a feast.
In this realm, the Four reign and wage war eternal on one another and on the Material. Each always vying for supremacy in this Sea of Souls.
However, sometimes, these Four come together and bestow upon chosen their hellish and unholy blessings, with promise and oath for souls to be reaped and action to be wrought in their Name.
These Four had since chosen Abaddon.
Abaddon had since been the herald and champion of these Four on the Material Plane.
But now after his 13th Black Crusade, the Four had returned to their rivalry and squabbles while Abaddon and his forces continue to carve an inexorable swathe across the Materium in his despotic and wanton march towards the cradle of Humanity.
Tzeentch, the Lord of Change, returned to enacting his never ending schemes and directing foul concerts of sorcery that corrupted and twisted those of ambition into his service to further those conspiracies and orchestras of subterfuge.
Nurgle, the Plague Lord, returned to experimenting and concocting ever new and old diseases across the worlds that had fallen into his blighted grasp. An oddly and confusing warm grasp that entangles and brings with his blessings the gift of despair and decay to his followers.
Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, returned to gorging and partaking in the ecstasy and pleasure that came with new and growing servants. It's gaze taking a shine to any who desire those that seek more…more…moremoremoremoremOrE.
There was the Blood God. Khorne. In his limitless rage and bloodlust. Blood was spilt in endless oceans by both sides. Many skulls and bloody ornaments collected, offered and sacrificed in his name. Innumerable champions vie for his favor and slaughter any and all that they are able.
But Khorne cares not from where the blood flowed, only that it does.
But these Four do not run rampant nor unopposed for there is One that fights them in this Sea of Souls. For ten millennia, there wages a war eternal. The Emperor of Mankind sits upon gilded archeotech; whose psychic might is wielded against the Four to protect Humanity from the worst of the nightmarish realm. His Light a beacon to safely travel this Sea of Souls.
And yet it is just barely enough to avoid plunging this galaxy into catastrophe.
For all the wanton death and destruction, there was something in the Immaterial that day. Something that had happened when the Will of Eternity broke the planet of Cadia and had tore that great rift across the galaxy.
A sudden roiling pressure that burst from the tides of the Warp.
A happenstance that drew the attention of not only the Four but also of the Anathema.
A sea green speck, akin to a droplet of water fell through the very fabric of the Immaterium and into realspace.
For all its chaotic and turbulent waves, the Sea of Souls seemed to still for the briefest of moments. There was no great purification. No gilded flame that scoured the foul energies that pervaded this hellspace. It simply went still. The energies and warpstuff simply stilled as that speck traversed and left before roaring once again.
As if its very presence calmed and stilled the Sea of Souls.
Something that the Anathema had not been witness to since before the Age of Strife.
Immediately, both the Anathema and Four collided once again in their titanic struggle with renewed fervor. Each of the Four eager to destroy or corrupt whoever this wandering soul was.
The Emperor of Mankind was not going to allow that.
The Anathema found himself on a ship, adorned in what was simple clothing, neutral and unassuming.
It was immediately apparent what was happening. A turbulent storm threatened to capsize the small vessel he was on. The only light provided were the sporadic and intricate webs of lightning that danced across the dark and ominous sky and the trio of small lanterns that hung onto the stern, mast and bow of the vessel for dear life.
He narrowed his eyes at what he was witness to.
Dark waters raged and large waves tossed and churned. Rogue waves if his memory served correctly. A mountainous wall of seawater rose and blocked the sky as it approached.
The Anathema raised a hand, and a golden orb of light seeped like a beacon before it catapulted towards the wave. It didn't completely destroy the wave but his power seemed to weaken it.
The ship lurched and turned, meeting it head on, cresting the top and smoothly landing even in the storm.
Closer in the distance, jagged teeth of rock adorned in torn flesh and littered in bones, even as the waves crashed against it. The blood stained the rocks and even the bones themselves seemed lodged in their places. Rent hulls of wood and steel sat among them, the lifeless carcasses adoring them as harsh trophies and reminders.
The boat seemed to want to meet this challenge head on, heedless of the reminders that were destroyed upon them.
The Anathema began to prepare another more vicious response as he raised his hand once more.
Before the vessel deftly skirted the edge of the outcropping, the surf skidding upwards even in the turbulent sea and crashing upon one of the outlying pillars of rock, causing it to collapse and fall into the water.
The Emperor lowered his arm.
He heard something. A pure and enchanting song, one that pulled his attention from the scene and towards the source. Entrancing and ethereal beauties flew overhead, theirs arms in the shape of avian wings.
The raging winds swept them from the sky and coursing sea swallowed and drowned them.
He looked about and he noticed that rot had began to set into the deck but something happened. Seeming of its own accord, the wooden panels were torn and flung into the depths of the ocean around them.
The Emperor raised his hand and waved and manifested newer panels for the ship.
And then the raging storm seemed to lessened. The winds lessened. A reprieve. The water was completely still, near flat in that no waves nor ripples affected it.
But beyond a few meters of the vessel, there was only pitch black sea and darkness.
The Emperor remained alert however. Such lulls in the storms were farces for what they truly were, meant to only secure those in false security.
"You know, I'm getting real tired of you people showing up."
Had the Emperor been anyone else, he would've jumped at the sudden voice.
But millennia of warpcraft had seen his senses harden and turn precise despite his increasing weariness.
Instead, the Emperor turned and faced this man.
No…boy. He still was incredibly young. Well, compared to him anyone was young. But the boy before him didn't look to have even seen his second decade of life yet.
Adorned in ancient, damaged, scarred and scorched golden armor, the boy was lazily leaning against a door that seemed to lead further below deck. Windswept raven hair cut short, he was tall, even for a boy that had yet to reach manhood.
The Emperor's extensive history in genecraft told him that this boy was not natural.
He was too perfectly natural to be so.
Even in the Age of Technology, perfection of the human form was impossible. Gene-tailoring or modification, cybernetics, medical enhancements helped to achieve that. And ever in Mankind's hubris there was always imperfections, always something to improve.
In the end, the human form was already perfect because it was imperfect. The Anathema had long ago learned that Humanity's strength was its adaptability and its ferocity to reach for heights unseen.
"You seem to have me on the back foot here." The Emperor spoke in a measured tone as he glanced around in wariness. The Sea of Souls did not stay calm for long.
"If you're worried about the storm, don't be." The boy sighed as he gestured widely and sat on the hand railing beside him. "First time being in charge too but I got a handle on it now."
'Interesting.' The Emperor impressed upon the young man. A luminescent golden glow from underneath the hood he wore to gleam what he could of his thoughts. Perseus Jackson…son of…
The Anathema stilled, staring at the young man in disbelief, yet beneath his shadowed façade nothing changed.
"Who are you?" The stillness was broken by the young man's question.
"Perseus Jackson…you may call me Revelation."
He saw the muscles on the young man tighten and coil. "I don't remember giving you my name, Revelation."
"It was revealed to me."
"That's convenient."
Had the young man been anyone else, he should probably have the boy killed. Him living…threw everything the Emperor knew and believed in on its head.
In the distance, a thundering sound was heard.
The stillness of the water began to churn and the Emperor felt a breeze as he and Perseus looked towards the rumbling in the darkness.
However…the Emperor could not let such a person go nor die. Not when everything already hung in the balance.
"I have need of you, Perseus." His voice grave as he stared out into the darkness as lightning began to once again dance across the sky. 'Against my better judgement', the Emperor thought. "Be ready, for the journey ahead isn't for the faint of heart."
There was a sigh of weariness. Not from the Emperor but from the young man. "I just want to go home." The mumble was faint and probably not meant to be heard by the Emperor yet he dismissed it, and following a flash of lightning, the Emperor had disappeared.
Percy looked to where the stranger had been and disappeared. He knew he was in a dream. A demigod one at that. The storm continued to roil and begin to pick up its raging pace.
But Percy, for the first time in his life, finally had control of it. He leashed the ocean of his dream to his control and ordered it to calm. The storm while raging, no longer was it an enemy, but an ally. Those damned sirens in the sky flittered about in the distance. A narrow of his eyes and a bolt of lightning flashed and vaporized the creatures.
He sighed but figured this momentary reprieve was something he should cherish and use to gather his thoughts.
He blinked.
Percy awoke on an uncomfortable metal chair. His arms and legs, over his bracers and greaves, bound by heavy steel manacles. His head hurt, like he had taken one too many shields to the head. Unable to cradle or massage it, he took a few precious moments of quietness to reorient himself.
He just wanted to go home. Whatever this place was, it wasn't anything he knew. Whoever that being was…Revelation…Percy quite simply wanted nothing to do with him.
After slaughtering a drakon and intercepting Gaea's final martyrdom, Percy had blacked out.
He had a nasty habit of doing that.
In his defense, at the moment, he was consoled in that split decision thinking that he'd end up in Elysium.
Then he woke up in a dark stone cell, not unlike those he had assaulted and destroyed beneath Rome, still horribly wounded and weak from the fight with the drakon.
Decidedly, not Elysium.
It had taken him some time to expunge the venom from his body. He should be grateful. Such a mortal wound from a drakon should've killed him, venom or not.
He supposed that was why he resigned himself to his destiny when he had. Already on the threshold of entering his uncle's realm; with the venom coursing through him, it was no question that he should spend his final moments ensuring that Gaea was actually dead.
To still be living after that ordeal was a miracle in and of itself. To say nothing of where he found himself.
Bleary-eyed and still adjusting to the migraine he had been afflicted with, he took in his surroundings. It was those same stone walls but not exactly. Instead of stone, the floors seemed to be of metal and there was actual electric lighting embedded above instead of candles. More modern rather than the archaic dungeons that he had first found himself in. The corners were fluted into columns and crowned with sculpted, ornate, steel eagles.
The walls were metal and engraved in them from top to bottom was a script of odd symbols and writing. He could make out a few words with their Latin roots but most of it seemed more of a jumbled mess than any coherent language.
His previously wounded arm by that red creature was bandaged and soaked with blood but rather than stinging and lingering pain all he felt was a stiff soreness.
Several thoughts lingered in his mind as he began to deliberate on how to proceed from what he hoped wasn't a going to be a recurring thing. If there was anything Percy hated more than those that would mean his family and friends harmed, it was being restrained and tied down, both figuratively and literally.
The first and foremost thought was that he was no longer near any substantial amount of water. What water, or rather liquid he could sense was running within and throughout the bowels of this place. It was thick and rife with other substances, pollutants and chemicals. There was water, that much he knew but the other liquids varied much more than that of his power.
He could, of course, conjure it. Willing it into existence with far spanning and devastating storms, tsunamis and such, or even conjure more precisely, orbs of crystal pure water into being from nothing but it would be much less draining and faster if he pulled from already existing sources or even the air around him. Other liquids were much harder, he couldn't conjure them as he could with water and forcing their compliance was often accompanied by headaches and pain, but he could do it and the more he did, the less pain he suffered and the shorter the migraines, like training a muscle. It was a dull ache at this point but controlling drakon venom was torture and then that lake of blood had drained him considerably.
He could also break free, rather easily in fact. The metal clamps restraining him to the metal chair were definitely heavy, strong and restrained him from using his arms and legs. The most he could physically do was squirm in his metal chair.
But Percy had his powers. He could conjure water and that gave him options. He blinked tightly, the migraine subduing but still there.
He took a moment to focus, to breathe and calm. Just like before the first order of business was to figure out where the hell he was. He retraced his thoughts. It was a cell, a more modern one than the last and was absent primitive wrought iron bars and any sign of other prisoners.
Percy was about to mentally retrace the moments of his escape to find out who exactly captured him but as soon as it started, what sounded like an automatic door slid open behind him, Percy couldn't exactly twist his head far enough to see. An oddly pleasant aroma of cedar wafting inwards.
He preferred the smell of the sea but it was a decent enough alternative.
A warbling hum accompanied both soft yet echoing footfalls. Though those steps halted just as quickly as they began.
He didn't exactly expect to see a floating skull of all things drift over and around him, peering at him with a malevolent red iris. It was absent its lower jaw, which looked to be replaced by a small tablet and pen with two hooks on either side holding it up as if it were some sort of secretary. An ornate, steel and stylized I was stamped onto the center of the forehead and all manner of circuitry, wires and small cords seemed to be tightly wound underneath and into the roof of the mouth. Above that, in the empty nose socket where, if he squinted, he could see the small holes of what Percy was guessing to be a speaker of sorts. A metal headband, was wrapped tightly around it and a stubby and thick antennae was protruding from the back.
More than a bit macabre, in his brief tenure in the Legion, Percy could only recall seeing something even remotely close to this in the temple of Mors at New Rome. The few attendants there had created an ossuary enshrined with the bones of her children and their legacies. Morbid but they didn't bother anyone.
This was…not that. While he'd seen far worse than some sort of floating techno-skull that seemed to double as a secretary of all things, it was still more than a bit of a shock.
Then he felt the very slightest of prickling at his neck. He had long been able to differentiate that demigod sixth-sense. One was danger, the other was caution. If Percy had to choose, he would prefer the former. At least it was straight with him.
Yet this was warning him to be careful.
And that set off more alarm bells in his head than if he were about to get stabbed in the back. Whoever was behind him, was someone that could and would stab him in the back without any thought.
But didn't.
"Hello, this here is my friend, Iovis." A smooth and masculine voice greeted…or at least that was what Percy thought he said. Gods above, guy just said hi and I already hate him. Was Percy's immediate thought. "He will be recording our…conversation here this day." Seemed he was close to the mark with the floating skull being a scribe or recorder of sorts. The odd and alien Latin he spoke was slightly more familiar to him than what that lady in the dungeons spoke but it still made Percy visibly cringe in distaste, it was almost like a bastardized form of Latin turned inside out.
He may be Greek but his heritage provided him some decent insight into the language and his aunt's manipulations in the war had afforded him more knowledge on the Roman side of things than most demigods were allowed since the division of aspects.
"Apologies." The man smoothly continued, a hint of what had to be false concern laced in his voice that told him he wasn't sincere. "Did I say something to offend you?"
The man speaking may send danger chills up Percy's spine but the demigod son of Poseidon saw no reason to not answer truthfully, because at this point, Percy couldn't stand hold back his snark. After all, Greek he may be but there was Latin and then there was ancient Latin. So Percy answered in the language with only a little bit of snark lacing into his own voice. "Your pronunciation is off. Whatever the hell you just said sounds like you're chewing with your mouthful. If you're going to speak Latin, at least get it right."
It left a churn of stomach as he said the words in the language of ancient Rome but, again, he couldn't help himself.
There was silence, enough to give Percy pause and actually consider breaking out before the offended person could literally stab him in the back, only for the man to speak again.
This time, and if Percy wasn't looking for it he was sure he would have missed it, a bit of frustration in his tone. If there was one thing that Percy knew he could do was his ability to piss off those in authority. He didn't catch all the words given how fast he was speaking nor did he understand most but he did pick out 'Orders' and 'Sisterhood' and something about a 'Dialogue'.
They waited there for some time until that same automatic door slid open and that same wafting of cedar followed accompanied by roses as well.
A feminine voice spoke, rich and soft yet in a hushed tone to the initial man that had sent chills up his spine. Percy, again, didn't understand much of what they said other than a few pieces such as Lord. They spoke for a little bit before silencing. That feminine voice spoke again, this time louder. "Hello." She greeted slowly as if she were choosing her words carefully. "I am Sister Miriama of the Ordos Dialogous. May I know what the name of the dialect that you speak?" That was more or less what she asked. What he didn't understand he gleamed from the context.
She seemed much more reasonable so Percy didn't mind answering. "It isn't a dialect. It's the language you're trying to speak. It's called Latin."
"Latin?" She seemed to test the word. "It sounds like a variant of High Gothic. What is more apparent is that it seems more..." Her voice shifting to mimic his tones but she didn't finish her sentence. She seemed to understand him now, if a bit more clumsily.
"You're a translator then?"
"I am a Sister of the Adeptus Sororitas, specifically of the Ordos Dialogous and I study the languages of His Imperium and that of His enemies so that we may better combat them."
Sounds exhausting. Percy was getting tired just thinking about it. Then his mind stalled. "You said his Imperium. What does that mean?" Imperium only meant one thing to him. The Imperium Romanum. And that Imperium's legacy continued into New Rome with the Legion. Whatever this place was, Percy was absolutely sure that this was not that. He was sure that these mortals were not Roman, legacy or otherwise.
LARPers seemed the more apt title but until he needed to get a rise out of people, he'd keep that in his back pocket.
There was a poignant pause before the woman spoke up once again. "His Imperium." She repeated a bit more slowly as well as if she were speaking to a simpleton, he could hear a tone of surprise laced within as she explained. "His Imperium of Man, spans the length and breadth of the galaxy, encompassing millions of worlds." The woman spoke with a certain reverence. One that reminded him of the more fanatical and traditional people of New Rome. "The-"
The man interrupted. "As much as I would love to regale him with history he should already know, we have more pressing concerns, Sister Miriama."
But Percy's mind, in that simple sentence, was already reeling. His breath caught in the absurdity. A galactic empire? He already figured he wasn't in his home anymore. If the laser rifles, giant red demons, horrid and insane flagellants and floating cool in a sort of morbid way, techno-skull weren't an indication, then the mention of that definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.
Aside from the lucid demigod dreams, this wasn't that.
Percy quickly recounted recent events.
Battle of Greece. Second Great Prophecy. Fight with Gaea forcing her back.
The Primordial of the Earth point-blank exploding in silver light.
Wake up in that bloody pool, with his adamantine spatha gifted from his aunt when he had woken up in the Wolf House and since Anaklusmos was currently a piece of shrapnel in the Primordial of the Pit's leg.
Despite the horrors of that place and nightmares he'd had since climbing out of it, that had been a neat parting gift for his distant relative.
Even if the Lord of the Pit seemed more amused than anything at the act.
Dragged into that iron cell, recuperating his strength for who knows how long.
Fought his way out alongside other people…that red…demon… it knew what he was. It called him demigod.
He had lost Riptide to the Primordial, and lost a part of himself. Losing Tempest…he tried his best to recover it. Maybe if he had entered that portal with the demon thing, he could've went back. It was how he got here after all.
At least he would've had his sword with him.
He heard something from the pair behind him as they conversed.
Something about…star warriors…Astartes…Silver Skulls…Living Saint…Ecclesiarchy…
The unknown man spoke again, Iovis, the techno-skull, warbling around Percy's head. "It appears we must get on with determining if you possess the favor of the Master of Mankind." The man's words were gravely spoken and hardly understood and only through the woman's, Sister Miriama, translation, did he fully understand.
Percy had a feeling he wasn't going to like what was about follow as an uncomfortable chill snaked its way down his spine.
"We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something."
-Mother Teresa
Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, been having a rough time lately trying to put what I wanted down. Fun fact, there are two other iterations of this chapter that were scrapped. This final version is a mesh of three. So sorry if it's a little clunky. We'll be digging into the meat of the story from here on. I'll try to be a little more timely on the next update but no promises. I recently got a promotion at work, so that's been at the forefront of my mind.
Not much else to say here!
On that note, (and as always), you can find me on the Emerald Library Discord! It's a fantastic place to interact with other writers and readers where we just chill and chat about ideas, future works and generally just have a good time!
The link to that is on my profile!