A long, long time ago...

  A loud creaking, scraping, screeching noise emanated from the old iridium blast doors located deep within the heart of the largest volcano on Taleth, the old Imperium outpost dating back to the Horus Heresy. A massive form turned from the blazing fires of a forge to face the door. The form sighed as radiant vermillion eyes opened. From its side it effortlessly lifted a massive hammer inscribed with the emblem of the Imperium and that of the legion of the Salamanders. A deep voice chuckled remorsefully, “Well, I suppose this is how I die, away from my brothers. At least I will join them soon.” The door finally caved in and a legion of Tyranids swarmed into the room. The hammer flashed and three of the large, hideous insects went flying, their bodies collapsed in on themselves. A spark, then a stream of liquid fire charred another group. As the slaughter continued, the enclosed room and thin doorway benefiting the lone Space Marine. After five hours, with fractured armor and dozens of gashes lacing his body, the Salamander fell back against the massive anvil. “Forgive me brothers, I, Lak’ret, have failed to die in battle.” He sighed, “Will that be forever my fate? To always survive and be denied a warrior’s death?” “I suppose I should set myself down and let time take its toll, whether that be to heal, or to die.” Lak’ret leaned his head back on the anvil, closed his eyes, and slept. Story

  Now...

  “Captain!” “Yes, brother?” “We have detected an old Imperium tracking beacon 3,000 (space marine space units) from here.” “Explain, lieutenant.” “As we were passing by an asteroid, we started picking up a signal which the Magos says is from the the time of The Heresy.” “Bring the Chaplain and the Magos.” “Yes, sir.” A signal dating from the Heresy… how intriguing, the Captain mused. As the Chaplain and Magos arrived, the Captain asked, “The Lieutenant has explained?” “He has,” the Chaplain responded. “I suggest we send out a Thunderhawk with a recon team to investigate.” The Magos added, “Whatever is there, it is bound to interesting information. I agree with the Chaplain, we should send some men to investigate.” “Very well. Lieutenant, take five men and board a Thunderhawk. You are going to investigate.” “Yes, Sir,” the Lieutenant responded. On board the Thunderhawk transport, the Lieutenant explained the situation to his brothers. “We have found the signal of an old Imperium tracking beacon.” “How old?” one of the brothers asked. “It dates back to The Heresy. We are not anticipating any combat, however, be on your guard. We don’t know what is broadcasting this signal. For the Emperor!” “For the Emperor!” came the resounding response. As the vessel landed on an ancient, ash covered, planet, and the recon team egressed, they began tracking the beacon. Trudging towards the source of the signal, a sergeant called, “Halt! See these mounds?” “Aye, we do.” “Uncover one, they are too many and too small to be rocks and boulders.” “Yes, sir.” After a minute of brushing away of ash and dust, there was a gasp from one of the Battle-Brothers. “Brother, what did you find?” “Corpses, tryanid corpses,” came the harsh reply. “On your guard,” called the Sergeant. “Lieutenant, any advice?” “Keep on. The Magos wishes to find the source as soon as possible.” “Yes, sir.” The closer they came to the beacon, the more corpses were found. “A great battle was fought here. I wonder how many perished,” commented. “On which side?” another responded. “On both sides, I think. What I would give to have seen this battle play out.” Onward, they went, until they came to a crevice packed with charred and split corpses. “The signal’s coming from inside this mountain. Move those corpses out of the way,” the Lieutenant commanded. “Yes, sir.” They set to work removing the obstructions from the doorway. When it was finally cleared, the Sergeant ran his hand over the shredded door. “Iridium. That hasn’t been used for three millennia,” he whispered in awe. “Sergeant! Quick! A neurothrope corpse, fully encased in ash!” In awe, the Lieutenant wondered aloud, “What kind of beast could have wrought such destruction on these tyranids?” “Maybe we’ll find out once we reach the source.” “Aye, let’s press onward.” As they entered the chamber where the beacon was, they were met with a gruesome sight of hundreds upon hundreds of tyranid bodies, all laid to waste. As the eyes of the team swept the room, they were first drawn to the brightly burning forge in the center. As they went closer to investigate, they froze. “What in the name of the Emperor is that,” one Brother whispered. A misshapen Dreadnought towered over them, its ancient presence bearing down on them. “A Dreadnought? Here? How is that possible? That resembles no system that I have seen.” They circled the Dreadnought, wary of any traps. A curious Brother reached out his hand and brushed the ash off of the chest plate, looking for an insignia. A creak, and then a cascade of dust, dried blood, and ash fell off of the armored giant. The soldier sprang away. A hacking cough followed the cascade as the Dreadnought awoke. “I… am alive?” It wheezed as ash spilled from its mouth. Its eyes opened, revealing a dull orange gleam. “So, I did not die. But who are you? You bear no markings known to me.” It trailed off. “Perhaps….” His eyes flashed, and a massive arm swung, bringing an desiccated flamer to aim at the recon team. “Speak! Are you Heretics? Did Horus claim victory over the emperor?” The Sergeant spoke, “Heretics? You insult us! I know not who you are, but if you draw blade or bolter against us, we will kill you. In the name of the Emperor, identify yourself!” The giant form seemed to sag, the light of fury leaving his eyes, “Thank the Primarch that the Emperor lives. I am Brother Lak’ret of the Eighteenth Legion, Master of the Forge. I am descended of Vulkan, lord of Nocturne and son of the Emperor. Now, identify yourselves, young Brothers.” The team spoke as one, “We are Brothers of the Eighteenth legion. We were sent to investigate a signal from the Heresy and came here.” “Ah, so we are all Brothers. That is good.” The Lieutenant spoke, “Our Magos Mechanicus wishes to know what kind of Dreadnought you are in. He says he has no records of that design.” “It is the work of my own hand, built to either serve as a tomb, or keep me alive. It seems it did the later. I built it with the aid of one of the Primarch’s artifacts, a spear, crafted by his hands. It serves as my spine, as there was nothing else strong enough.” The recon team was stunned, “You managed to find one of the Primarch’s artifacts?” “Yes, but I fear I have not much energy left to entertain you. My wounds are deep and the Dreadnought is all that keeps me alive. If your Magos wishes to examine me, I say we leave now.” “Yes, lord. This way.” As they left the mountain, light fell upon Lak’ret once more as the Thunderhawk came to bring them to the Hammer of Nocturne, the massive flying church of the Chapter. “I am among my brothers once again,” Lak’ret smiled as he settled down into a stasis chamber in the Hall of Souls.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.