The Catalepsean Node was unlike any of the other implants Daedren had received. It wasn’t a simple addition of an organ or a graft to his body. It was an implant that would fundamentally change how his mind worked. Situated deep within the brain, close to the medulla oblongata, it would alter his sleep patterns and give him the ability to go without rest for days, perhaps even weeks, without suffering from exhaustion. For a warrior, this was invaluable, sleep was a vulnerability, a time when an enemy could strike. But the node offered a solution, allowing an Astartes to rest half of his brain at a time while the other remained alert and focused.

But this change was not achieved through a mere surgical procedure. The node’s nature required that its full function be unlocked through hypnotherapy, a process that would rewire Daedren’s mind to accept the new implant, allowing it to function properly without destabilizing his psyche. It was a delicate, dangerous procedure, one that would push the boundaries of his consciousness to their very limit.

The hypnotherapy chamber was deep within the Apothecarion, a room insulated from the rest of the fortress-monastery. The walls were lined with thick slabs of reinforced ceramite, shielding it from any external interference. The interior was stark and utilitarian, devoid of the usual medical instruments and equipment Daedren had come to expect. Instead, a single, massive device dominated the room, a dark, foreboding machine that loomed over the surgical chair at its center.

The chair was more of a cradle, with padded restraints for his arms, legs, and head. A complex array of wires and neural interfaces dangled above it, each one designed to connect to specific points along his spine and skull. The sight of it made Daedren’s skin crawl. He had faced the blades and needles of the Apothecaries without flinching, but this… this was different. This would not be a test of physical endurance, but of his very sanity.

Brother Harvath stood beside the machine, his expression calm and composed as always. But there was a hint of caution in his eyes as he gestured for Daedren to sit.

“This will be a unique experience, Neophyte,” Harvath said softly, his voice almost lost in the stillness of the chamber. “During the therapy, the Catalepsean Node will be implanted into the back of your cerebrum just above the brain stem, but until we integrate it fully, it will lie dormant. The hypnotherapy process will unlock its potential, but it will also test your mind. You will face visions, memories, dreams, and perhaps even fears that you have buried deep within yourself. To endure this, you must remain centered. Do not allow yourself to be swept away by the illusions.”

Daedren nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the chair. He had faced the fires of Nocturne, the trials of the forge, and the pain of each implant, but this… something about this felt different. More personal. More dangerous. But he would not falter.

“I understand,” he said, his voice steady.

Harvath gave a single, approving nod, and then motioned for Daedren to take his place in the chair. As Daedren settled himself, the cold, padded restraints tightened around his wrists and ankles, holding him in place. The feeling of being bound, unable to move, made his pulse quicken, but he forced himself to remain calm.

The assistants moved in, attaching the neural interfaces to his skull and spine. Each connection sent a faint jolt through his nervous system, a ripple of sensation that made his vision blur for a moment before stabilizing. The machine above him hummed to life, its dark mass illuminated by a faint, eerie blue glow.

Harvath leaned over him, his face solemn. “I will be monitoring you closely. Remember, what you experience will not be real, but your reactions must be controlled. If your heart rate or neural activity spikes beyond safe parameters, I will intervene. But that should be a last resort. You must face this trial as you would face any enemy, with strength and resolve.”

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Daedren took a deep breath, his muscles tensing against the restraints. “I’m ready.”

With a nod, Harvath activated the machine. A low hum filled the room, rising slowly in pitch as the neural interfaces began to pulse with energy. Daedren felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, his vision blurring as the lights above seemed to fade, swallowed by darkness.

The hum grew louder, resonating in his skull like a swarm of angry insects. His mind felt stretched, as if it were being pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Thoughts, memories, and sensations flickered through his consciousness, too fast to grasp. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, the sound merging with the machine’s steady drone.

Then, suddenly, everything went silent.

The darkness enveloped him completely, a void so deep and empty that it seemed to swallow his very sense of self. Daedren floated in the abyss, weightless and alone. He could feel his mind unraveling, his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers.

But then, out of the darkness, a flicker of light appeared, a single, tiny flame, burning softly in the void.

Daedren’s eyes locked onto it, his mind seizing on that single point of light. The flame flickered, growing brighter, until it blazed with a fierce, emerald-green glow. The color was vivid, almost painfully bright, and it cast long, shifting shadows across the darkness.

A voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the void.

“Daedren… Do you know what you are?”

The voice was familiar, yet strange, like the memory of a dream half-forgotten. It reverberated through his mind, stirring emotions and thoughts he couldn’t quite place. Daedren opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged.

The flame flared brighter, its heat washing over him. Images began to swirl in the darkness, memories, fragments of his life, each one flickering in and out of focus.

He saw the forges of Nocturne, the roar of the flames as he hammered molten metal into shape. He saw his father’s face, stern but proud, as he watched Daedren work. He saw the trials on Nocturne, the agony and triumph of each step. He saw Sargo and Akeel, his brothers in battle, their faces set with grim determination. He saw the Scorpiads, their massive claws glistening with venom as they lunged at him in the dark.

The images shifted, blurring together, becoming something new. He was no longer in the forges or the wilds of Nocturne. He was standing in a great, open plain, the ground beneath his feet cracked and broken, scorched by fire. The sky above was a storm of swirling flames, the air thick with ash and smoke.

In the distance, a figure stood, a towering warrior, clad in dark green armor, wreathed in flames. The sigil of the Salamanders blazed on his chest, and in his hands, he held a massive, glowing hammer.

Vulkan.

The Primarch’s gaze bore into Daedren, his eyes like twin suns burning with the light of a thousand stars.

“You are not yet complete,” Vulkan said, his voice a thunderous roar that shook the ground. “But you have the fire within you.”

The ground cracked beneath Daedren’s feet, molten lava bubbling up from the depths. The flames roared higher, their heat searing his skin, but he did not flinch.

“Will you face it?” Vulkan demanded, his gaze piercing. “Will you stand in the fire, or will you be consumed?”

Daedren clenched his fists, the pain of the flames washing over him. He felt his mind tearing at the edges, the boundary between reality and illusion blurring. But he knew the answer. He had known it from the moment he took his first step on this path.

“I will stand,” he whispered, his voice a whisper in the storm.

The flames roared higher, swallowing him completely. His vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the heat and light. He felt his mind being pulled apart, every thought, every memory unraveling in the inferno. Agony...the heat of the fire seemed to melt his skin, a putrid smell began to ooze out of his very being... but he endured.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over.

The darkness faded, replaced by the soft, white light of the hypnotherapy chamber. Daedren blinked, his vision clearing slowly. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling with exhaustion. But he was whole. He had endured.

“Neural integration complete,” came Harvath’s voice, calm and steady. “The Catalepsean Node is active.”

Daedren took a shuddering breath, his chest heaving. The node was active. He could feel it, a strange, pulsing sensation deep within his skull, like a second heartbeat in his mind. The exhaustion that had gripped him moments before seemed to recede, replaced by a calm, focused clarity.

“You did well, Daedren,” Harvath said quietly. “The node has integrated perfectly. You will no longer need to sleep as you once did. Your mind will rest, even as you remain vigilant.”

Daedren nodded slowly, the weight of the moment settling over him. The Catalepsean Node was a part of him now, another step in his transformation into a true Astartes.