Daedren braced for the impact, every muscle in his body taut with defiance. He knelt, his battered shield clutched in one trembling hand, while his other arm hung limp at his side, its strength sapped by the relentless battle. The chaos abomination loomed over him, its form rippling like liquid shadow, an impossible mass of shifting limbs and twisting geometry.
The creature’s attack came with a force that seemed to tear the very air apart. Its tendrils lunged downward, crackling with malevolent energy, and Daedren closed his eyes. He prepared for the searing pain, the weight of his brothers' sacrifice heavy on his soul. If this was the end, he would face it with the honor of a Salamander.
But the pain never came.
Instead, he felt... nothing.
The expected impact passed through him without resistance, like a ghostly breeze slipping through the cracks of a door. His eyes shot open, and what he saw defied explanation. The chaos creature's tendrils swept through him as if he were incorporeal, their twisted shapes flickering and disintegrating before reforming into jagged streaks of shimmering light.
Daedren staggered to his feet, his shield slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. Around him, the chamber began to shift. The thick stench of blood and ozone dissipated, replaced by an eerie, weightless sensation. The walls of the room, once heaving and pulsing with the chaotic influence of the warp, began to blink in and out of existence, like a failing holo-feed. The jagged, organic forms melted into smooth, featureless surfaces before fading entirely.
The silence was deafening. The sounds of war, the relentless pounding of bolters, the roaring of chainswords, and the guttural shrieks of Chaos spawn, were gone, leaving only the sound of Daedren’s labored breathing. His vision blurred for a moment, the oppressive weight of reality itself seeming to lift, leaving him lightheaded and disoriented.
Then the ground beneath his feet dissolved.
He stumbled but did not fall. It was as though the very fabric of existence around him had unraveled, leaving him suspended in a void of infinite blackness. Stars began to blink into view, not like the natural celestial bodies of the galaxy but as tiny pinpricks of light, faint and distant, forming patterns and constellations that seemed familiar yet alien.
Daedren turned in a slow circle, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His brothers, the monstrous creature, the very room itself, had vanished without a trace. He was alone in a vast expanse of nothingness, his armor battered and his hands shaking.
“What is this?” he whispered, his voice echoing strangely in the emptiness.
A faint hum filled the void, growing louder with each passing moment. It wasn’t an oppressive sound but rather a soothing resonance, like the gentle tolling of a bell carried on a distant wind. Daedren’s breath caught in his throat as the darkness before him began to shift.
At first, it was subtle, like a ripple across the surface of still water. Then the void seemed to coalesce, light and shadow bending together to form a single, indistinct shape. It grew sharper with each heartbeat, until finally, standing before him was a figure.
Daedren froze, his instincts screaming at him to act, to raise his shield or draw his weapon, but his body refused to obey. The figure was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its form was cloaked in an aura of shimmering light, its edges indistinct as though it was both there and not there at the same time. It was tall, towering over Daedren, its presence both overwhelming and strangely calming.
The void around them seemed to hold its breath.
Daedren’s voice wavered as he spoke, the words escaping his lips in a hoarse whisper. “Who... who are you?”
The figure remained silent, its form emanating an energy that resonated deep within Daedren’s very being. It felt as though the figure was not just in front of him but all around him, a part of the void itself, a part of him. Its head tilted slightly, as though studying him, and for the first time, Daedren felt a flicker of something he could not describe, an understanding, a connection, perhaps even recognition.
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The silence stretched on, the figure unmoving. Daedren’s heart thundered in his chest as he stood before it, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him like a forge hammer against steel.
And then, without warning, the void around them began to glow faintly, the stars growing brighter. The figure raised an arm, a motion so fluid and deliberate it seemed almost reverent.
Daedren’s eyes widened as the gesture sent a wave of light cascading outward, illuminating the void in a brilliant, otherworldly glow. The sense of calm was replaced by an overwhelming anticipation.
Then, the light ebbed slowly, fading like the last embers of a dying forge fire. Daedren stood in the void, his breath caught in his throat, his hands trembling at his sides. The figure before him grew clearer, its radiant aura peeling away like layers of mist. As the shroud lifted, Daedren’s eyes widened in awe and disbelief.
In front of him stood Vulkan, the Primarch of the Salamanders.
His presence commanding yet deeply human. His dark, scarred skin seemed to hold the glow of a forge, faintly radiant as if embers smoldered beneath the surface. His armor, adorned with symbols of fire and the forge, bore the weight of untold battles, each scratch and scorch mark telling a story of sacrifice and valor. Yet, in the brilliance of his form, there was a sorrow, a profound weariness that hung over him like a mantle.
Daedren sank to his knees, the weight of Vulkan’s presence pressing him down as if the very air around them had turned to iron. Awe and reverence coursed through him, and he dared not look up for fear of breaking the fragile moment.
“My lord…” he whispered, his voice trembling. The words felt insignificant, a whisper against the hurricane of the Primarch’s being.
Vulkan gazed at him with eyes like twin green flames, burning with the wisdom of centuries and the pain of untold losses. His gaze seemed to pierce through Daedren, seeing not only the young Astartes before him but something deeper, something Daedren himself could not comprehend.
Time seemed to stretch and bend in the Primarch’s presence. Vulkan neither moved nor spoke, yet his silence was a language unto itself, heavy with meaning. Daedren felt as though he stood before the eternal forge of the universe itself, a place where all things were unmade and remade, purified in fire.
Then, Vulkan moved.
It was not the grand gesture Daedren had expected. There was no thunderous declaration, no raising of his hammer in triumph. Instead, the great Primarch’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered his head. Slowly, Vulkan knelt, his massive frame bowing as if under an unbearable weight. Daedren’s heart clenched at the sight; this was not the indomitable figure he had imagined, but a being burdened by eons of sorrow.
“My lord…” Daedren’s voice broke, the words dying in his throat. He wanted to reach out, to steady the towering figure before him, but he dared not move.
Vulkan’s armor began to crack.
Tiny fissures spread across its surface, glowing faintly like the veins of molten rock running through the forges of Nocturne. Pieces of it flaked away, drifting into the void as ash. His dark skin, so resilient and strong, began to crumble, turning to dust that floated weightlessly in the air.
“No…” Daedren whispered, his voice filled with despair. He reached out, his gauntleted hand trembling, but he could not bridge the distance between them. “No, this cannot be…”
Vulkan lifted his head. His face, though marked by the passage of centuries, held an expression of serene acceptance. The flames in his eyes burned brighter for a moment, as if reigniting from deep within. His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was not the thunderous roar of a Primarch but a quiet, resonant command that echoed across the void.
“Help me. Find me.”
The words struck Daedren like a hammer blow, reverberating through his very soul. The plea was simple, yet it carried the weight of an entire galaxy, a desperate call that transcended time and space. Vulkan’s gaze locked onto his, and in that moment, Daedren felt an unbreakable bond form, a flame kindled within him that would never be extinguished.
Before Daedren could respond, before he could ask how or why, Vulkan’s body disintegrated further. The cracks spread rapidly, and the great figure of the Primarch began to collapse. Ash swirled around him, the embers of his form scattering into the void like sparks blown from a forge.
“No!” Daedren cried, his voice raw with anguish. He lunged forward, his hand outstretched, but his fingers closed on empty air. The last remnants of Vulkan vanished, leaving behind only silence.
The light dimmed, and the void around Daedren grew cold and dark.
___
He woke with a start, gasping for air as if he had been pulled from the depths of a deep ocean. His twin hearts raced, and his body was drenched in cold sweat. Disoriented, he sat up, his eyes darting around wildly, searching for the vision that had just consumed him.
But all he saw were the familiar surroundings of the 3rd Company’s barracks. The rows of bunks, the faint hum of machinery, and the soft glow of lumen strips, everything was exactly as it had been. The distant noise of his brothers sparring outside grounded him, but his mind was anything but calm.
Daedren pressed his hands to his face, his breathing ragged. The vision of Vulkan was still vivid, etched into his thoughts as if seared there by the forge’s heat. The words rang in his ears: Help me. Find me.
He swung his legs over the side of the bunk, his feet touching the cold floor. For a long moment, he sat there, staring at the ground as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was it a vision? A dream? Or something more profound? The memory of Vulkan’s burning gaze, his plea for aid, felt too real to be dismissed as mere imagination.
Daedren looked around the barracks, oblivious to the turmoil that had shaken him to his core. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening with every breath. Whatever it was he had seen, whatever it meant, he could not ignore it.