Joe rubbed his forehead, his thoughts jumbled. “So… let me get this straight. You’re saying yoing to die, and I’ll take over your body. And you’re teag me now so I carry on in your pce? Serve your Emperor or whatever?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But no matter what happens, you’re saying it’s a bad deal for me? Whether I stay trapped or end up serving your Emperor, it’s all unfortunate?”

  “It’s not just an Emperor as you imagine him,” Kayvaan said firmly. “Not some mortal ruler sitting on a throhe Emperor of Mankind is humanity’s savior, our leader, our prophet. His power surpasses all gods. Without Him, humanity would have beeinguished long ago. It is because of the God-Emperor that humanity still survives in this gaxy teeming with horrors.”

  Joe shrugged, unvinced. “Alright, your Emperor then. I get it. But bay question: why would serving Him be just as unlucky as being trapped?”

  "This is no easy task," Kayvaan said with a weary but prideful smile etched on his face. "If you ve iure, you'll uand. As aus Astartes—a Space Marine—owerful, perfect, and graernal purpose, but such gifts e with unimaginable sacrifices."

  Joe froze, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "Are you serious? Why should I follow your orders like some puppet?"

  Kayvaan’s smile vanished, repced by a chilling ess. "Because you’re an outsider. You o uand that with a mere thought, I could make you disappear in unimaginable agony." With that, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, Joe crumpled to the ground, his body vulsing as excruciating pain tore through him.

  "I make you feel torment beyond your wildest nightmares," Kayvaan said coldly, watg Joe writhe. "So, it would be wise to learn resped obedienow, get up. You've already squandered a thousand years; there's no time left to waste! Your first task is to read every book in this hall."____________Meanwhile time also passed outside,

  "How could this happen?" Alen’s voice trembled as he stared in disbelief at the ceramite coffin before him. His captain, the one he had revered above all, now y within it—a shadow of his former self. Anger surged through him, burning hot in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I need an expnatiohat makes seherwise..."

  The servitor standing nearby trembled visibly, its meical arm twitg at its side. "I-I don’t kher. This is... unpreted. The captain shouldn't have ged after being pced in the sanctum, but... Please wait a moment. This might have happened during the Great Betrayal or shortly thereafter. I’ll o check the records."

  Before the servitor could move, an elderly man stepped out from the shadows of the hall. "No need, Corida. You’re not authorized to access those records," the man said, his voice steady but firm. He waved a dismissive hand, and Corida quickly retreated. The old man approached Alen, bowing slightly as a sign of respect. "Lord Alen, I am Eustace, Librarian of the Sanctum of the Honored Dead. I oversee everything here. How may I assist you?"

  Alen’s gaze remained fixed on the coffin. "I want to know what happeo the person lying inside. How did he end up like this?"

  Eustaced briefly at the identification sigil engraved on the ceramite coffin. "May I ask your e to the captain iion?"

  Alen didn’t hesitate. "He was my captain. He always will be."

  Uanding dawned on the Librarian’s face. He let his gaze drift to the chest of Alen’s armor, adorned with medals that gleamed in the hall’s soft light: the Imperial Laurel, the Crux Terminatus, and the Mark of the Emperor’s Wrath. Eae represented extraordinary feats—victories against insurmountable odds, triumphs in legendary battles, and tless foes vanquished. It was no wohe servitor had quaked in the presence of such a figure.

  "If your captain could see what you’ve bee, he would be proud," Eustace said softly. "But I must ask you to temper yer and lower your voice. This is the Sanctum of the Honored Dead, after all."

  Alen nodded, fully aware of the solemnity and unyielding rules that goverhis sanctified space. The Sanctum of the Honored Dead was no ordinary hall—it was a sacred reliquary of the Chapter’s most revered heroes, those who had givehing in service to the Emperor. These were warriors who had sin xenos lords, turhe tide of impossible battles, or id down their lives in acts of supreme sacrifice.

  The remains of these heroes y interred in stasis sarcophagi, their surfaces adorned with purity seals, etched litanies, and the sigils of their Chapter. The walls of the hall stretched into shadowed infinity, each recess taining a crypt illuminated by the dim glow of flickering votive dles. Some sarcophagi bore the honored Crux Terminatus, signifying those who had once doerminator armor. Others were marked with urels of champions or the battle honors of campaigns long past.

  For these heroes, death was iable—whether from insurmountable wounds or mortal injuries sustained in battle—but their loss was too great for the Imperium to bear. Their talents, their wisdom, and even their geic legacy were treasures the Imperium could not afford to lose. Thus, the Sanctum of the Honored Dead was established. These sarcophagi weren’t mere resting pces; they were advaasis chambers ected to a colossal temporal stabilizer. Time flowed so slowly for the octs that they were nearly frozen in aernal slumber. The hope was that one day, when the Imperium’s teology advanced far enough, these heroes could be revived aored.

  Eustace pulled out a data-ste, its surface lighting up with glowi and symbols. He sed the information carefully before speaking again. "You have the right to know about your captain’s dition. However, I must warn you that this involves highly cssified information. It is one of the Imperium’s most closely guarded secrets. I trust you uand the importance of discretion."

  Alen’s expression hardened. "I uand."

  "Good." Eustace tapped the data-ste, bringing up a specifient. He held it out toward Alen. "Take a look here—pay close attention to this seal."

  Alen's gaze followed Eustace's pointing finger, and his jaw dropped instantly. He stood frozen, his mouth agape for what felt like ay. This battle-hardened hero, who had oood unshaken against hundreds of Chaos Space Marines, now wore an expression he had not shown in thousands of years—pure, unfiltered astonishment.

  The sight left Alen speechless.

  The Librarian waited patiently, allowing Alen a moment to collect himself. Once Alen regained some posure, the Librarian tinued, his tone grave yet steady. “What you see before you is a seal of the Emperor’s Will, pced by the hand of the Emperor Himself. Your captain, the revered Kayvaan Shrike, ersonally examined by His Omnist Majesty. It was His diviion that your captain’s wounds were not merely physical but were inflicted by a curse of the most sinister kind.”

  “A curse?” Alen's voice trembled slightly as the word sent a chill through him. He struggled to process what he had just heard. “I-I don’t uand. I was with my captain otlefield during that campaign. Afterward, they told me he was gravely injured, but no one ever mentioned a curse.”