Among these ndmarks stood the Cathedral of the Emperor's Assion, a bea of faith and history. Even the Imperium's wealthiest and most corrupt nobles saw value in bringing their children to its hallowed halls. For many, it was not just a visit but an opportunity to instill values and a proper outlook on life. Some Imperial schools even made trips to the Cathedral a regur activity, allowing children to hear firsthand the heroic tales and legends of a time long past.

  The Cathedral’s outer sanctum was a t Gothic marvel. Its bck walls bore tless carvings depig heroic sacrifices made for the Imperium. Pilgrims and tourists patiently waited in long queues, guided by attendants who led them through the various exhibits. At every signifit stop, priests aors reted the stories of legendary battles and the brave souls who fought them.

  It had been 9,000 years sihe hero Kayvaao a dark curse otlefield. In those millennia, the Imperium had weathered tless storms uhe Emperor’s eternal vigihere had been dark periods when humanity teetered on the brink of annihition, but through faith and unyielding will, the Imperium eoday, though the gaxy was ruly free from flict, Terra enjoyed a rare moment of retive peace, and its citizens cherished the hard-won stability.

  The Sanctum of the Honored Dead, once exclusively a resting pce for fallen heroes, had evolved. While its inner sanctum still housed the remains of those legendary figures, access was strictly limited. Visitors instead marveled at the rebuilt outer sanctum, a grand and majestic structure designed for public admiration and education.

  Then, on an otherwise ordinary day, the cathedral was interrupted by a strange and a sound—the ringing of a bell. Its deep, majestie reverberated through the hall, cutting through the chatter of the crowds. What made it extraordinary was that it wasn’t amplified by any teology; the bell’s power seemed to e from its sheer resonance.

  Pilgrims froze, startled, their eyes darting around to locate the source of the sound. Eveendants tasked with guiding the visitors were left bewildered. None of them knew why the bell had been rung.

  Amid the fusion, the high priest suddenly burst onto the se. His appearance was disheveled—he wore a simple robe, his orer clutched awkwardly under one arm, and his bare feet spped against the cold stone floor as he sprioward the inner sanctum. His frantic, almost undignified dash dres and puzzled murmurs from the crowd.

  Ihe inner sanctum, chaned. Some priests panicked, while others were visibly flushed with excitement. The bishop, normally a figure of calm authority, looked uncharacteristically energized. Everyone knew what the bell sighe “Awakening Bell” had been rung.

  The Awakening Bell only tolled under extraordinary circumstances, marking the return of a hero long thought lost to history. For those interred in the Sanctum’s coffins, emerging again was akin to a miracle. In the Hall’s 9,000-year history, the bell had only rung three times, each ocarking the resurre of a legend or their final passing.

  The bishop, aware of the magnitude of the moment, k in the special auditorium. He prayed fervently, his words praising the Emperor and the miracle unfolding before him. To hear the bell during his tenure was an unimaginable blessing.

  A maery groao life, and soon a stasis sarcophagus was transported into the auditorium by meical arms. The bishop rose from his prayer, his hands trembling slightly as he removed an a golden key from around his neck. With reverence, he ha to a servitor. The automaton bowed deeply, then carefully ied the key into the sarcophagus's lock, ensuring every movement recise ale.

  As the lid of the sarcophagus slid open, the figure of a young man was revealed. He appeared no older thaeen, his face calm and serene, but when his eyes fluttered open, they held a depth of wearihat spoke of untold years and battles.

  The bishop stepped forward, his voice steady despite his emotions. “I am Armandius, bishop of the Cathedral. I have been your servant during your slumber. Wele back, great one.”

  The man who emerged from the sarcophagus was not the inal Kayvaan Shrike, but a traveler through time—Joe. When his mentor vahe essence of Joe, the traveler, ceased to exist. Now, only Joe, who had ied Kayvaan's name and legacy, remained. He vowed to honor that name, carrying its weight forward into this world.

  This was only the beginning—the very first step of a new journey. Kayvaan Shrike stepped out of the sarcophagus, his movements unsteady. His bare foot nded on the cold, smooth floor with a sharp "pop." A servitor approached hastily, support, but Kayvaan waved them off, his hand firm.

  "I am Kayvaan, captain of the Raven Guard," he decred, his voice stroe his weakeate. "I don’t need anyone’s help to walk. Get out of the way."

  Joe's awakeni an a system into motion, one inally designed by the Sanctum to hahose returning from proloasis. The first protocol was a plete isotion procedure. A massive, inftable psticlosure sealed Joe away from the outside world. Medical equipment and meical assistants flooded into the room, setting up a sterile enviro.

  The examinations began almost immediately. housand years had passed, and the top priority was ensuring Joe wasn’t carrying a pathogens. Despite the advanced medical systems of this era, bacteria and diseases still existed—tiny, invisible threats lurking in the air. Fortunately, the Imperium’s disease prevention protocols were thh. Every a sleeper and alien visitor underwent the same rigorous scrutiny.

  Joe, however, warranted extra caution. Not only was he a relic of an a past, but he had also suffered a dreadful curse. No one could be sure what horrors might still linger in his body, remnants of his old life.

  For a week, Joe endured releests—blood extras, ss, aal evaluations. Medical staff surrounded him, monit his every move. By the end of the week, the se shifted. Two clergymen arrived, dismissing the medical personnel and removing the inftable isotion chamber. The high-tech maery disappeared, transf the room bato a grand auditorium. Yet, the atmosphere was different.

  Joe sat alone in a simple chair before a long table. Two clergymen faced him from across the table, their austere expressions framed by the Imperium’s aqui and the sigil of the Ecclesiarchy dispyed behind them. Their questions came rapidly, probing into every er of his past. Their words carried suspi, as if they doubted his every answer. Again and again, they questioned his faith and loyalty to the Emperor.

  Frustration boiled over. Smming his hand oable, Joe snarled, "What is this? I uood the medical tests—ensuring I didn’t bring some a pgue with me. I even tolerated your mental and intelligence exams to check for brain damage after so long. But this? This feels like an interrogation! Are you treating me as an enemy?"