When the Emperor rushed back into the library, it was unnervingly quiet.
“Child, where are you?!”
He tore through layer after layer of bookshelves, frantic, hoping to catch a glimpse of a figure somewhere in the stacks.
He must have been tired.
Must have fallen asleep somewhere.
Finally, the Emperor stopped before a desk buried under books of every kind.
A single book lay on the surface.
A wind from nowhere stirred the air.
The Hexagram on its cover was glaringly conspicuous, like a sneer from the Empyrean itself.
So this was…
Fate?
…
Sunlight fell across the grass.
A gentle breeze moved through, and the undergrowth rustled softly.
Bonar watched white clouds drift lazily across the sky, a few birds gliding unhurried through the open air.
He sat up and looked around, disoriented.
Where was this?
He had still been in the library just moments ago, reading that book, feeling drowsy, wanting to rest his head on the desk for a bit.
Then he opened his eyes and was here.
The place looked a lot like the old Terra described in books, but it was definitely not Terra.
Not far away stood a towering tree.
Beneath it was a Statue of Bonadan.
Bonar walked slowly toward it.
Where was this place?
“Hello there, little one.”
He turned around and saw four…
lunatics?
One wore heavy black-and-red armour, every bit like a warrior, the face beneath the helmet completely hidden from view.
The one beside him was plainly dressed, yet the allure was impossible to conceal, though those pointy-ears were hard to miss.
Another was a kindly-looking elderly figure, slightly stout, leaning on a cane.
The last appeared to be a somewhat bookish, frail-looking scholar.
The eyes behind the spectacles were as deep as black holes, inviting endless speculation.
Each of them looked ordinary enough on their own.
Together, they gave Bonar a profoundly strange feeling.
“And the four of you are…?”
The armored warrior spoke first.
“I am the God of Justice and Courage — guardian of order in this world.”
“Hello, little friend.
I am the God of Life and Love.
Would you like to come visit my home?
My family has been looking forward to it for quite some time.”
The Aeldari beside them, whose beauty no amount of plain clothing could hide, wiped a bit of drool from the corner of their mouth.
No.
This is unbearable.
I want to take a bite so badly.
“Hellooo, I’m the God of Beauty and Joy — want to come play?” Slaanesh jumped up cheerfully and waved.
Tzeentch was just about to introduce himself when he felt the killing glares of the other three lock onto him.
I am the God of Wisdom and Hope, master of infinite knowledge,” he said, and obediently kept it normal.
If he tried anything at this particular moment, the other three probably wouldn’t mind joining hands to give him a thorough beating.
Bonar stared wide-eyed, momentarily at a loss for words.
“You all…
actually exist?”
“Then this place…
is the legendary Warp?”
Tzeentch nodded.
With a gentle wave of his hand, the stars reversed course, the long river of time swept past, snow and lightning intertwined, the grass became desert, the desert became snowfield, and the vast starry sky above burst into brilliant, shifting colors overhead.
Bonar felt that power again, the one called Psychic Power, but this time it felt as natural and easy to sense as breathing.
He flicked his hand lightly.
A bolt of lightning split the sky.
A single thought, and a howling gale roared before him.
He took out the Lectitio Divinitatus his father had given him.
He looked at the first line.
Core principle: the universe is rational, and there are no such things as so-called “gods”, knowledge can defeat fear and deliver humanity from the horrors of the Age of Strife.
Then he summoned a pen and started writing something.
“Little friend, what are you doing?” Slaanesh asked, curious.
“My father doesn’t know this place exists yet.
I need to go back and tell him.”
Bonar said it excitedly, then wrote in large letters beside that line: The Warp is real.
“You know, my father is incredibly busy.
Now that the Warp can help him — I’m sure he’ll be very pleased.”
Behind Slaanesh’s back, both hands had twisted into knots.
Never before had Slaanesh endured this hard, the urge to rush over and devour Bonar piece by piece was almost overwhelming.
Nurgle beside them was smiling even more happily.
See.
What a friendly child.
Always thinking of family.
“Heh heh, that is where you are mistaken, Bonar.
Do you know why we summoned you here?” Tzeentch said, in that cryptic, mystifying way of his.
Only then did Bonar remember that he still didn’t know why he’d ended up here.
“Why?”
Tzeentch gave a light smile and waved his hand.
…
“By the Blood of Sanguinius!”
“For the Emperor and Sanguinius!”
Bonar watched Astartes in red power armour roar past him at a full charge.
Ah.
He’d seen this group of “vampires” before, they’d even shared the same trench once.
The power armour looked different though.
A new pattern, by the look of it.
He turned around, and saw…
Tyranids.
Endless and innumerable.
The vast shadow they cast swallowed every ray of sunlight whole, regardless of how many suns hung in the sky.
The Tyranids launched their charge, filling mountains and flooding seas in the most literal sense, surging toward the Imperium’s defensive lines like a tide.
There was no need to aim.
Eyes closed, you’d still hit something.
Bonar watched Tyranids tear apart Astartes, swarm the lines, and devour the desperately struggling mortals alive, rending them limb from limb.
Then an overwhelming barrage of artillery crashed down, killing Tyranids and survivors alike.
Another wave of Astartes and mortals retook the stretch of line, driving the Banner firmly into the ground.
…
The scene shifted.
“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh.”
One furious roar.
Then tens of thousands more, deafening, all at once.
Bonar saw countless big green-skinned brutes screaming as they charged out of their lines, utterly savage, all of them.
The Orks swung their weapons, scrap iron, basically, straight into the fire of the Imperium of Man, firing a few wild shots before switching to using those same weapons as clubs.
Black smoke streaked across the sky above.
Flying machines that could only be described as oversized fireworks carved their trails through the heavens.
And those outrageous mechs swung great chainsaws and plowed right in, effortlessly shredding the human armored divisions.
“For the Emperor!”
Atop a massive fortress, a one-eyed old man in a peaked cap let out a furious roar.
One eye had been replaced with a bionic implant, his left hand with an oversized power claw.
He bellowed and raised the Banner, leading his soldiers in a counter-charge.
Some of the most desperate fighters even snatched up Ork weapons and hacked right back.
…
Finally, Bonar arrived in space.
The golden eagle of the Imperium of Man was burning.
The bodies of warriors and sailors, tangled with shattered steel, drifted through the void.
The entire fleet had been blasted to fragments.
Not far away floated several sickle-shaped warships glowing with an eerie green light.
The metal skulls looked upon all of it without expression.
“Threat of the ignorant race has been purged.”
…
The scene shifted again.
Bonar saw a group of blue-skinned, noseless figures piloting their spacecraft, currently being thrashed like they owed someone money by a Lunar-class Cruiser.
The image flashed past.
“Heh heh heh, never mind that last one.
Pretend you didn’t see it.” Tzeentch laughed awkwardly and closed the vision.
“What was all of that?” Bonar asked, still a little shaken.
All four gods answered together:
“The Imperium of Man.
Ten thousand years from now.”
With those words, a massive Shrine World appeared before them out of nowhere.
People chanted prayers at the top of their voices, fervent and unceasing.
An Ecclesiarchy Priest proclaimed the Emperor’s edicts from the pulpit with thundering passion.
Below, a vast congregation of the faithful knelt in rows stretching as far as the eye could see.
On a nearby execution square, Flagellants swung heavy iron flails, lashing those deemed insufficiently devout, while a fanatical Ecclesiarchy Priest stood before them and denounced their weakness.
“Full of ignorance, savagery, and oppression,” Tzeentch said, wearing that playful, knowing smile.