Someone was humming that song again.

Maylin Hadmayer was on her break when she heard the familiar melody from somewhere in the sea of military tents. The young preacher was soon humming along when a voice called out to her.

‘Sister Preacher Maylin. That song again?’

Maylin turned and saw a young man who wore a similar preacher’s outfit like her own walking over.

‘Brother Preacher Xavier. How are things on your side?’

Like herself, Xavier was one of many newly sanctioned preachers hastily recruited as part of a massive faith validation endeavour for the surrendered masses.

‘It surprised me, but the people here exhibit more faith than I expected.’ Xavier said with a satisfying nod.

‘I have the same observation, the emergence of a living saint must have rekindled their faith in the Emperor.’

‘She is still a saint candidate at the moment right?’

‘For the moment that is true. But in my opinion, considering what we have witnessed it would be outrageous if she doesn’t qualify for her contributions.’

‘Agreed.’ Xavier said before asking, ‘so any new development on her condition?’

‘Nothing.’ Maylin said with a sigh before switching topics, ‘on other news, some linguistics experts have been cracking at the lyrics of that song. Most now agree that it was made up of multiple ancient Terran languages.’

‘Really?’

‘For real, the current most trending topic was guessing its title. From what little they had translated, “It’s Only Love” and “Beautiful World” are leading the poll.’

Xavier smiled, ‘I can always count on you for any latest news on our mysterious saviour. Another sermon session is coming up for me. I’ll see you around.’

Maylin watched as Xavier left, leaving her alone with that song in the air. That song, that mysterious song in ancient human tongues that stopped the war. The very song that was credited by many for saving their lives, and later that of the whole planet after the heretical scheme came to light.

Everything felt so surreal.

There was an old saying, “there are centuries where nothing happens; and there are weeks where centuries happen”. Maylin was definitely living on that latter part as the centuries old stability enjoyed by her world disappeared with the recent happenings.

The Holy Daughter prophecy, a local legend with many variants that even Maylin herself had deemed silly, had actually come to pass. Prompted by the recent earth shattering events, Maylin started doing her own research on the legend’s history whenever she had time to spare.

From what she was able to discover, records mentioning the Holy Daughter prophecy started appearing about a thousand years ago, coinciding with the time the local minor Sororitas Order was established on the planet.

Digging further, for the first time Maylin noted the Adeptus Ministorum, commonly known as the Ecclesiarchy, or simply the Church, seemed to have a standing policy of localising its teachings and subverting any local legends to become its own. When the Church encountered the Holy Daughter prophecy, it simply took it under its wings to be listed amongst the countless other imperial legends and prophecies. In a galaxy mired with endless war, unrest and despair, no one paid heed to another story that provided a glimmer of hope.

Then it actually came to pass, a mysterious girl arrived and saved the planet from the brink of disaster. If the news was to be believed, she ended the largest battle of the civil war while preventing massive casualties, narrowly averted Nusquam’s damnation and possibly martyred herself to stop a rampaging daemon.

It all sounded so outlandish. Nusquam had not seen a major war in three hundred years, let alone witnessing a daemonic incursion. Personally for Maylin, the notion that a living saint could have emerged and passed away before anyone noticed in this backwater imperial world was more outrageous than all the ridiculous events combined. It even made the young preacher wonder for a moment if her homeworld was abandoned by the God-Emperor, to have their saint taken away so quickly.

Triggered with a sense of melancholy, Maylin took out her data-slate and conjured a picture on its display. It was a picture she had viewed countless times, but still struck her with a sense of awe whenever she laid her eyes on it.

It was a picture of a Sororitas Rhino armoured transport tank, and sticking out of its opened hatch was the breathtaking sight of a regal-looking girl glowing with a blinding halo. Illuminating a backdrop of a darkened rainy sky, the glowing girl held a sword in one hand, pointed forwards.

Maylin recognised the sword to be the priceless relic of the local Sororitas Order; she had only seen it once in person from a distance. In the picture the relic sword was covered in bright blue flames and appeared slightly too large on the outstretched arm of its petite user.

They said the picture was taken before the entire army in the frontlines confronted a towering monstrosity that shook off enough firepower to level a city. Details on what happened was sketchy, but supposedly in the end the warp entity was banished and the girl greatly injured in the process.

As the news spread, it soon became a point of public contention and an embarrassment for the Church. People could not get over the fact that the Church was silent and unaware that the Holy Daughter prophecy had come to pass while its cardinal was off world on yet another dubious pilgrimage.

The Church generally had a standard approach for power struggles between the nobility for planetary governorship; any such local disputes were tolerable as long as the winner maintained their loyalty to the Imperium and the God-Emperor. However, recent events with the dark ritual and daemonic incursion had led many to suspect that the uprising was being instigated by agents of the Great Enemy, leading the Church to finally speak up.

Breaking their silence, the Ecclesiarchy quickly started a series of propaganda campaigns with their signature self-righteousness, demanding the harshest punishment possible by executing all the surrendered troops. However their blunt proposal was rejected by the Planetary Governor Khatalina von Klaeus, and her stance was backed by the various powerful imperial factions that secured the victory.

Even the Church’s own military arm, Order of The Shining Beacon of the Adepta Sororitas, which contributed a lot to the victory, objected to the proposal as the Holy Daughter herself had promised leniency for the surrendered troops.

Then there was the Inquisition that appeared out of nowhere, the all powerful branch of the Imperium took control of the situation and quoted in a statement saying, “this world can ill afford such a senseless loss of trained personnel in these trying times. Such actions could potentially aid the hidden enemy”.

Behind the scenes, the Ecclesiarchy also suffered severe backlash from the pious population in the north who had a lot of family members within the surrendered ranks. Holding little true power in the local political landscape, the Church’s demands went nowhere. It was then the Inquisition reached out and requested aid for validating the integrity of faith for the surrendered troops.

Desperate to prove its worth, the Ecclesiarchy recruited many preachers for the task. Employed as part of the massive effort, Maylin had been working tirelessly on her assigned tasks for the past days. Between the sermons she was giving, Maylin had been doing intensive interview sessions with random individuals, looking for the slightest trace of heresy.

The overall results had surprised her. Instead of the typical Nusquamese laid back attitude towards religion, most of the interviewees exhibited a renewed sense of faith.

‘The Emperor gave us a second chance. I felt reborn and have no intention of wasting it this time,’ one said.

‘We had all been fooled, can’t wait to get back at the heretics!’ Declared a soldier fuming with righteous fury.

‘I caught a far away glimpse of the daemon and need no further convincing. The Emperor is the only reason humanity still exists in this world,’ an officer confessed with a thousand yard stare.

‘I saw the light of the saint with my own eyes, preacher. She was at the forefront of the forces that came to vanquish the daemon, the sight alone was worth a thousand sermons. I wish you were there to see it yourself, viewing it from a blurry pict-feed did it no justice,’ a young trooper said to her.

To witness a living saint doing the God-Emperor’s work in her lifetime… Oh what she would do to witness such a sight. Maylin began daydreaming as she walked back to work when a cultured voice called out from behind, breaking her thoughts.

‘Preacher Maylin?’

‘Yes?’ Maylin looked back and was surprised to see an individual she never expected to meet in this place. There at a short distance away was a man wearing the distinct garment of an Ecclesiarchy deacon, flanked by two robed crusaders.

Maylin blinked. The exquisite details on the deacon’s garment, together with the glittering of his many magnificent Ecclesiastical trinkets, informed her she was not seeing things.

Why was a deacon directly addressing a lowly preacher?

Then to Maylin’s shock, instead of asking her to come forwards, the deacon with his bodyguards made a beeline for her. As they approached, the crusaders’ sheer intimidating presence along with their towering storm shields kept everyone else at a respectable distance, scattering the crowd in their way.

Having no idea what she had done to attract the personal attention of such a high ranking individual, an ominous feeling descended on Maylin. Making the matter worse, she struggled to recall the name of the deacon in front of her. Maylin had never fancied her chance of meeting the few active deacons due to her lowly status, and thus never committed their details to memory.

‘Esteemed deacon, it is such an honour. I did not expect to meet you in a place like this.’ Maylin formed the aquila sign while bowing, silently praying for the man to not notice her skipping his name.

Luckily for her, formality seemed to be the last thing on the man’s mind. ‘We go wherever the Emperor’s work demands,’ replied the deacon with a politician’s smile before revealing the purpose of his visit. ‘Maylin Hadmayer, you have been summoned.’

‘Pardon? Summoned?’

‘Yes, you are to drop everything and come with me now.’

‘But my work here…’

‘Pay it no heed, arrangements have been made.’

‘May I enquire who exactly had summoned me?’ Maylin asked, her mind a messy blank with the sudden development. She looked at the deacon, begging for an answer. A hint of frustration flashed on the man’s face for an instant before he indulged her curiosity.

‘You are being summoned by the archdeacon himself.’

And so, Maylin soon found herself inside the Ministorum grand cathedral. After walking through many heavy doors leading to the second highest tower, Maylin entered an office with a mind-bogglingly luxurious interior.

In the centre of the office was a huge desk cut from a single slab of marble, its delicately carved surfaces decorated with many golden and platinum elements. Behind said desk sat the second most powerful religious figure on the planet, Archdeacon Ricene Venarrin himself.

Maylin remembered the man to be nearing a hundred years old, yet he looked barely fifty and was still quite handsome with all the deaging treatments.

The archdeacon appeared to be deep in thought and merely nodded to acknowledge his visitors before signalling the others to leave with a wave. After her escorts bowed and left, Maylin quickly performed her greeting to the archdeacon and knelt.

It took a while before Ricene broke the silence. ‘Preacher Maylin, welcome and please rise. Tell me, have you dedicated your further studies to any of the orthodox creeds yet?’

Upon hearing his words, Maylin rose but kept her head bowed respectfully. ‘Venerable archdeacon. To answer your question, I have yet to master my fundamental studies to decide on my dedication to a particular creed.’

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The man behind the huge desk nodded before asking, ‘do you know why you were summoned?’

‘Pardon my ignorance, your grace, I have no idea.’

Ricene stayed silent for a moment before saying, ‘as of this morning, the saint candidate has awakened and seemed healthy. She even showed the Emperor’s light at the gate of the Sororitas monastery fortress in front of hundreds of devotees. The news has been suppressed for now, but not for long.’

Upon hearing the shocking development, Maylin involuntarily gasped and looked up. ‘Venerable archdeacon, that… that is marvellous news! The Throne be praised! Did you get to speak to her?’ It took a second before the overly excited young preacher realised she had interrupted the archdeacon, so she quickly lowered her head again.

To her relief, Ricene did not appear to be offended, instead he answered with a hint of excitement. ‘Yes, while it was unfortunately short, I spoke with her.’

‘May I ask what was your impression of the saint candidate?’ Maylin asked, unable to contain her excitement.

‘By the Throne, she had an otherworldly spiritual presence that is difficult to define…’ Ricene replied before trailing off, lost in memory. It took a moment before he spoke again with a tone of wonder. ‘How do I put it… she radiates warmth and calmness, but what really captivated me was her quiet confidence. Combining those qualities with her unearthly beauty, she reminded me of everything wonderful in this world. When she is around I find it hard to take my attention off her. You will understand the moment you meet her in person.’

Maylin was slightly taken aback by the excessive statement, surely the archdeacon did not just confess to gawking at the saint candidate? And why was she here again?

‘Venerable archdeacon. While that was most enlightening and I thank you for your insight, may I inquire about the purpose of my visit?’ Maylin asked.

Realising he might have gone overboard, Ricene awkwardly cleared his throat. ‘Ah… yes, the Ecclesiarchy needs a representative operating beside the saint candidate immediately. Due to the past few… unfortunate blunders, we cannot afford to be excluded from her future actions. Since his holiness is off-world, the task of selecting a representative falls to me.’

‘But alas, this is no simple matter. Naturally almost everybody wants to work beside a saint candidate and get the chance to witness the God-Emperor’s miracles up close. The choice however is far from simple. Give any senior clergyman the position and all his rival peers would scream favouritism, plus it will be viewed as patronage to the individual’s particular creed.’ Ricene explained with a sigh.

Maylin stayed silent, not sure why she was hearing the archdeacon complaining about the difficulties of his position.

‘So for the sanity and stability of the Church, the representative in question needs to be freed from such burdens and preferably a female due to obvious reasons of propriety.’ When the archdeacon finally finished his rambling, he gave Maylin a long thoughtful look before coming to a decision.

‘This is where you come in, Preacher Maylin. Do you know that due to the presence of the Sororitas Order, there are but a handful of preachers in this world deemed suitable for this honour I am about to bestow onto you. Rejoice, you are very lucky.’

Maylin did not believe what she was hearing and felt her head going numb just by thinking about the conclusion of that logic train. She could not help but look up to see Archdeacon Ricene smiling somewhat self-deprecatingly as he slowly walked over to her.

‘If I were any younger and in a suitable position, I would do anything for this. Junior Preacher Maylin Hadmayer, heed your new duty,’ the archdeacon said while handing her a delicate letter with an official Adeptus Ministorum seal.

‘I, Ricene Venarrin, Archdeacon of the Adeptus Ministorum on Nusquam, hereby officially assign you as the representative of the Ecclesiarchy to the saint candidate. Praise the Lord; praise the God-Emperor, our saviour!’

* * *

Somewhere on Nusquam, a man awakened from his restless slumber and groaned. He found himself inside a shadowy room, his pitch black surroundings broken only by the flickering of multiple monitor displays nearby.

Every so often, the flickering streams on the displays temporarily lit up the room, illuminating a man with an impressive physique yet looking absolutely miserable. A long, unkempt beard hung from a face etched with lines of exhaustion. His skin was rough and weathered while his once piercing eyes constantly darted around wearily, as if searching for something.

After failing to locate whatever horrors haunted his dreams, he put up a hand to shield his eyes from the flickering lights. Calming down slightly, the man groaned again as painful memories of his life’s work burning flooded back to him.

Everything had fallen apart.

While he knew his supposed masters were fickle beings, he could not fathom what had transpired. He was close, so close to becoming one of them. The muffled pain on his head grew more pronounced, as it did everytime the idea of losing his shot for ascendency crossed his mind.

Just days ago, his many decades of scheming and meticulous planning was coming to fruition. Even with the surprise activation of a psychic beacon that came out of nowhere, everything was on track. He was but a step away from his ascension, this close to achieving immortality and made eternal. His masters on the other side had promised, they even marked him out as one of their favoured servants.

The man had all he needed to reach the apex of existence. By his design the dimwitted imperials were tricked into fighting amongst themselves, and their deaths would be the sacrifice to fuel his ritual. From a hidden site secured with careful use of his vast resources, he and his followers created a breach in reality, opening up the planet for a daemonic invasion. According to his plan, the summoned daemons would assault the populace, further fueling the ritual to allow even more daemons into reality, from there the cascading nature should do the rest.

But then things started to go awry. The ongoing civil war between the governor and her half brother was strangely not providing enough casualties to feed his ritual.

Just as doubts began sinking in, something in the Sea of Souls answered his calls, something huge and powerful. It was so enormous that the breach expanded as it tore through the opening in spacetime and wriggled itself into reality. The thing he summoned, or the thing that had summoned itself, was beyond his understanding. Unlike any known servants of the Holy Great Four, what came through from the breach was at first a huge lump of shadow.

Everyone was puzzled until it started to solidify, its shadowy form materialising into bones, sinews, muscles and more until eventually a towering black winged daemon rose into reality. A greater daemon. They had summoned a greater daemon on their first attempt. Seeing the magnificence of their success, everyone cheered.

The man was ecstatic to say the least. While many questions lingered, like why the possession offerings were not taken and no one recognised what type of daemon it was, the fact that it did not immediately attack meant the ritual worked as intended. With this magnificent being leading the charge, the downfall of this world was all but assured.

While the cultists were ecstatic, the newly formed monstrosity that barely fit in the massive underground storage hall paid no attention to the puny mortals around it. It raised its muscular hand and observed it, as if tasting and experiencing its new existence.

The man approached the imposing warp spawn to initiate communication. ‘Greetings, great one. I am Grigerii Morvich, the one in charge of this congregation that brings forth your blessed existence. May I ask which of the Holy Great Four do thou hail from?’

The thing slowly turned its head to face the cult leader, surprising everyone as it communicated via telepathy. +The Holy Great Four? Take a guess then. Which of the Holy Four?+ It asked.

Suddenly feeling pressured, Grigerii blinked and managed a response. ‘I… I am totally lost, great one. My apologies but my studies seemed totally inadequate.’

+Take a guess.+ It insisted with a non-negotiable tone, the malicious bale lights in its eyes glowed with increasing intensity. Cornered, Grigerii thought for a moment before deciding this was a trick question. He gulped, betting it all on his intuition. ‘My answer is that thou do not hail from any of the Great Four.’

There was a short moment of silence before the warp monstrosity started to laugh, or it tried to; what came out was a poor imitation of laughter, a terrible bestial sound that was out of this world. Despite its eldritch nature, the inhuman sound was clearly laced with malevolence and mockery. The daemon then silently raised its hand to the air where a colossal axe materialised. After grabbing the weapon, it announced. +Correct. For your reward, you shall be the last person I kill in this world.+

Then the massacre began.

Grigerii found himself at the door of one of his many hideouts some time later. He had no recollection of how he arrived covered in bruises and wounds, but he remembered losing everything.

That thing. That cursed thing he summoned disregarded his status as a marked one and took all from him. His many devout followers slaughtered, his precious artifact taken and worst of all, his powers were stripped away. It had somehow denied him the connection to the Ether and made him a normal man.

Confused and scared out of his wits, Grigerii had been hiding in the hideout ever since. While he was keeping a tab on the outside world via the news feed, emotionally he was utterly devastated, barely coping with his fall from the peak of existence straight down to the gutters.

Anyone else with a lesser mental fortitude would have gone insane, Grigerii was sure of that. The fact that he was still alive proved he was made of sterner stuff.

Slightly reassured, Grigerii turned on his bed and his hand touched something wet. Jolting to his senses he quickly switched on the lights and what he saw petrified him. On top of the pillows of his massive bed was a mess of blood and organic matter. It looked like a crime scene where someone’s brain was blown off. Wait…

Grigerii suddenly recalled what had really happened. He was not as stern as he imagined. Faced with an impossible scenario, after days of soul-shattering despair, in a moment of weakness he finally put a gun to his own head.

Or did he imagine his suicide?

Grigerii turned around and saw the used pistol on the bedside. Slowly he picked up the weapon and checked its ammunition count. Upon finding out a single shot was missing, he felt every strand of hair on him standing on their end.

But how? Grigerii was about to give into insanity when an inhuman voice sounded in his head.

+The Ether is much bigger than you think.+

It was that thing.

Realising what was residing in him, Grigerii screamed, something he had not done for more than a century. Before he could do anything else his body froze, then a searing headache hit him as his memories were read by the entity.

After a while, the thing inside him came to a conclusion.

+My splinter and the target annihilated each other? Hmmm… So be it.+ It said while slowly holding up the pistol and pointed it at Grigerii’s own head, seemingly about to finish what he had attempted once.

‘NO! WAIT!’ Grigerii screamed desperately but was unable to control his body.

+I had kept my promise and made you whole once.+

‘Please! I beseech thee! I offer thee everything!’ Grigerii begged as tears rolled down uncontrollably and he wetted himself. While he knew better than anyone about the futility of appeasing to such an entity, he had to try.

Just when Grigerii believed he would die for real this time, his gaze became fixated on something. There on one of the many flickering monitors was a news update with bold letterings: SAINT CANDIDATE AWAKENED.

The news flash was accompanied by a series of pictures, one of which depicted a glowing girl on top of a Rhino tank hatch, her arm stretched out, holding a flaming blue sword that pointed forward.

The thing inside Grigerii went quiet, and then he felt a series of intense emotions bubbling over him. It started with flashes of anger mixed with amusement and then, fascination. The thing pondered for a moment before finally deciding on a course of action.

+Grigerii Morvich. I will make you an offer.+

Some time later in another hidden location, a group of people were whispering their worries in a meeting room. It was a gloomy event, the sombre atmosphere of the gathering amplified by the news featured on the wall mounted main display.

‘So, she has awakened.’

‘But our master is still missing.’

‘We need effective leadership now! Our brothers and sisters are being hunted on all fronts.’

‘Shouldn’t we be appointing a new leader at this point?’

‘Who should it be? Surely not you?’

‘Careful of your tone. I, Stellar Clamour, second in command to the master until his unfortunate disappearance, am the most qualified around here to lead.’

‘You wish to lead us? Over my dead body.’

As the meeting was heating up, there was a commotion at the door and a runner came in without knocking. Panting, the runner made an exciting announcement.

‘Everyone! The… the master is back!’

‘What?!’

‘Where is he?’

Before anyone could get a proper answer, a figure barged into the meeting room uninvited, a figure everyone here knew well. It was the missing leader Grigerii himself, looking sharp and alert.

‘Master!’

‘Rejoice, my disciples. The wait is over.’ Grigerii said.

‘What happened?’

‘Where were you this whole time, master?’

Grigerii raised a palm to calm the gathering and said. ‘There were setbacks, but I have returned.’

‘Master, what happened to you?’ Asked Stellar, the person who had suggested electing a new leader just then.

‘Brother Stellar, why such a question?’ Grigerii asked.

‘You feel… different. I can no longer sense your powers.’

The room of acolytes quieted down upon hearing one of them utter such a question. Grigerii however did not immediately answer, instead his attention became fixated on the main display on the wall where another news about the saint candidate was streaming. It became so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

Eventually Stellar broke the silence. ‘Master?’

‘Oh… excuse me. But to answer you, yes I still have my powers.’ Grigerii turned his attention back to the gathering. ‘In fact, I am stronger than ever. Allow me to demonstrate.’ He smiled then gestured with his hand as if forming a fist.

In the next instance Stellar screamed as his head was slowly crushed by an invisible force. He grabbed his aching cranium with both hands, wailed and fell over, rolling on the ground. Then Grigerii’s hand closed into a fist and Stellar’s head popped, spilling blood and brain matter everywhere.

While the rest of his acolytes became petrified, Grigerii asked casually, ‘anyone else wishes to usurp my position?’

None dared to reply.

‘Good. Listen to what I have to say carefully.’ Grigerii said, the smile disappearing from his face. ‘We have encountered setbacks but the path forward is still open to us.’ Grigerii proclaimed, his eyes brimming with unnatural powers.

‘Didn’t my prediction of the Astronomican’s light fading come to pass? I have since received further revelations from the Ether. I tell you all now, no slaves of the corpse god, no governor, no Inquisition, not even that upstart false saint can deny us our destiny! Gather our people, heed my instructions and we shall take back what is rightfully ours. To the promised world!’ The cult leader concluded with his fist held high.

‘The master is back! To the promised world!’ His followers cried out enthusiastically.

‘Promised world!’

‘Promised world!’

‘PROMISED WORLD!’