=== Nira ===
Nira's eyes fluttered open to the soft golden light of dawn filtering through tall arched windows. The faint smell of medicinal salves and antiseptics greeted her first, then the coolness of fine Naboo linens against her skin. For a brief moment, she had no sense of where she was—only the sensation of quiet, of safety. The war, the chaos, the endless death… it all felt like a dream.
But as she shifted and pain whispered through her limbs, memory returned.
She sat up slowly, her movements tentative. The room around her was quiet and regal in its elegance. Pale stone walls, shelves of medical supplies, and a vase of blue blossoms at the bedside. The silk drapes fluttered gently in the morning breeze. Outside, Naboo's serenity pulsed like an echo of another world—so far removed from the fire and ash of Geonosis. So far from the bunker… from Him.
Her eyes lowered to her lap, and there it was.
A single golden feather.
It glowed faintly with warmth, unnatural and divine, resting on her palm as though it had always belonged there. She hadn't dreamed that part.
Nira stared at it in silence. Her breath caught as fragments of the conversation—if it could even be called that—drifted back to her. Disjointed, ethereal… surreal. The figure of gold, luminous like a walking sun, had spoken to her. His presence had felt like standing before the furnace of creation itself. A God among Gods. The raw power He carried was unfathomable, terrifying… yet strangely gentle in the moment He had spoken to her.
"You have glimpsed the edge of what awaits." He had said.
"A deal is struck then."
The words weren't memories so much as impressions etched into her soul, as though the very fabric of her being had been marked. She didn't know if minutes had passed or millennia in His presence. He had spoken of sacrifice. Of His grand plans for her, and what she needed to do for Him. Of standing against the tide of the Ruinous powers. Of fire and war and a future born in blood.
She closed her hand around the feather, and it pulsed once—warm, comforting.
A tear slipped from her eye before she could stop it.
The Emperor. She had talked to Him. At what cost, she didn't know, only that something inside her had changed. There was a new awareness behind her eyes now. A presence of divine nature, watching. Guiding? She wasn't sure.
Her fingers ran absently across the bandages on her arm and the side of her neck. There were bruises hidden beneath the hospital gown, souvenirs of what had happened in that cursed bunker. Of what she had unleashed.
The whispers were gone. Silent now. Yet a part of her feared they weren't truly gone—just waiting. But deep down she knew that He had banished them.
She looked down at the feather, and willed it to lose its glow, which it did. She simply clutched it in her hand before attempting to stand.
Her legs were shaky beneath her, but she was able to pad barefoot across the cold marble floor to the window. Naboo stretched before her like a painting—green hills, soft lakes, skies painted with sunrise. A world that didn't know the immaterium existed. A world still innocent.
And she? She no longer was.
Her reflection in the glass caught her eye. The same face. The same eyes. But something inside her was forever altered.
She walked from the room and into the long hallway, bathed in the soft glow of Naboo's early morning sun. Ornate marble pillars lined the walls, their bases inlaid with delicate carvings of Gungan and Naboo symbology intertwined—peaceful, ancient, and oddly comforting. The sound of birds chirping outside was a distant hum, barely reaching her ears. She moved slowly, her bare feet brushing softly against the polished floors, every movement cautious, every breath steadying.
She needed to see someone. Anyone.
Turning a corner, she paused.
There, framed against a wide balcony overlooking the majestic city of Theed, stood master Dooku.
His tall, regal frame was silhouetted by the rising sun, a long cloak draped over his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back. His silver hair glinted with morning light, and his posture, as always, was proud. Yet something about him seemed different. More… subdued. She took a tentative step closer.
Dooku turned slowly, his stern expression softening as his eyes fell on her.
"Nira," he said, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're awake."
She offered a faint smile in return, her voice raspy from disuse. "Master… it's good to see you."
Dooku stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You've been unconscious for nearly a month," he said, voice low. "There were times I feared we had lost you."
Her eyes widened slightly. A month?
"I… I don't remember much," she said, gaze shifting toward the cityscape. "The last thing I recall is… pain. And screaming. After that… nothing."
It was a lie, of course. Every fiber of her being burned with the memory of that realm, of the whispering abyss, and of the Man the Astartes referred to as a God.
The Emperor of Mankind had told her: Some truths must remain hidden—for now.
Dooku studied her face carefully. The Jedi master had never been easily deceived, and his silence was heavy. But after a long pause, he nodded, his hand falling away.
"I won't press you," he said. "Some wounds are not of the body. And some memories return when we are ready to bear them."
They stood together in silence for a time, overlooking Theed as the sun climbed into the sky. The city below stirred to life—children ran through market squares, transports rose into the air, Naboo's serenity unbroken by the war raging far beyond its borders.
"I must admit," Dooku finally said, his voice thoughtful, "I have seen many things in my life—victory, defeat, treachery… but I've never seen anything like what occurred on Geonosis. The Imperium… their warriors… their machines…" He shook his head slowly. "They are not of this… Universe."
"No," Nira said softly. "They aren't."
He turned to her once more, a calculating light in his eyes. "Anakin and Senator Amidala. They're here, somewhere in the palace. Recovering. You should go see them, tell them you are awake."
Nira looked down at the polished stone beneath her feet. A quiet war raged inside her. Part of her wanted to tell him. To speak of the bond she had seen growing between Anakin and Padmé, of the way they had kissed. A Jedi Palawan and a Senator, entangled in a forbidden relationship…
But she didn't.
She raised her head and simply said, "I'll find them later. I… need some air first."
Dooku gave her a knowing look, but said nothing. He nodded once and returned his gaze to the city.
"I have matters to attend to," he said quietly. "When you're ready, come find me. We have much to discuss—about the war, and your place in it."
"I will," she said.
She turned and walked away, the feather now tucked safely inside the folds of her robe, close to her heart.
And though she didn't say it aloud, one thought echoed in her mind:
My place… may not be what you think it is anymore.
=== Sebastian ===
The echo of his boots on steel was the only sound that followed Sebastian through the dim corridors of the Battle Barge that had left Geonosis to go to Tatooine while the others had stayed behind.
Sebastian walked alone, his helmet cradled beneath his arm, the heavy weight of it now matched by the solemn burden in his chest. The dim red lighting of the surgical bay loomed ahead like a bloody omen, and as the doors hissed open, he entered a world of pain and resilience.
Maximus lay on the table, surrounded by surgical servitors and the soft chitter of medicae drones. Tubes fed into his chest, where a massive gash—inflicted by the Necron Anrakyr—had all but ruined one of his hearts. His right arm was opened from the elbow down, and the left half of his face was covered in stitches.
The Apothecary, Brother Uriel, stood beside him, working swiftly but with reverence. He spared a glance at Sebastian.
"He clings to life," Uriel said, voice modulated through the vox-grill of his helm. "Barely. His secondary heart is functioning, but his primary one is damaged. We can save him—but what returns may not be the Maximus you remember."
Sebastian stepped closer, gaze locked on the pale, motionless face of his brother. Maximus had been more than a warrior. He had been his Brother in the Deathwatch, one of his oldest companions.
Uriel returned to his work. A flicker of light in the corner of the room caught Sebastian's eye—one of the servitors bore the iconography of Mars, its mechanical arms precise, expressionless.
He lingered, just for a moment longer, before the vox in his ear crackled.
"Sebastian, Captain Agemman has asked for you and Raxor." A fellow Astartes said.
Sebastian turned without a word and strode from the surgical bay. As he moved, the corridors of the Battle Barge shifted around him. Banners of the Ultramarines chapter hung limp from the ceilings. The scent of incense and ozone was strong in the air—a holy mixture, masking the rot of death that permeated even the most sacred vessels.
Raxor met him at the armored gates leading into the Apothecarion Sanctum.
"Maximus?" he asked softly.
"Still fighting," Sebastian replied.
Raxor nodded, then they entered together.
The chamber was lit in calming blues and golds, a shrine of purity amidst the surrounding devastation. The Honor Guard stood silent in formation, their armor immaculate. At the center, on a raised bed, lay Captain Agemman—Captain of the first company of the Ultramarines, decorated hero of countless campaigns, and now… a broken monument to war.
His chest was bound in a medical sarcophagus, ribcage crushed and multiple organs damaged. One of his legs had been removed below the thigh, replaced already by a gleaming cybernetic, and the right side of his face bore a new line of bionics trailing down into the collar of his surgical robe. And one of his eyes was missing, having been replaced. But the other burned with the same clarity that had inspired warriors across the galaxy.
"Sebastian," he rasped as they approached. "Raxor. Cousins. Come closer."
They did, kneeling beside him, placing fists to chests in salute.
"You still breathe," Sebastian said, a ghost of a smirk flickering across his battle-worn face. "The galaxy should tremble."
Agemman chuckled, though the sound turned quickly into a ragged cough. A medicae servitor moved forward to intervene, but he waved it off with a flick of his hand. "Not for long, if the medicae have their way," he rasped, a trace of grim humor in his voice. "At this rate, I may become more metal than man."
His one good eye turned to Sebastian, locking onto him with the clarity of a seasoned warrior despite the pain etched deep into his aged features.
"I heard what you've been through here. But i want to hear it from you. Tell me everything."
Sebastian hesitated only for a moment, glancing to Raxor, who gave a slight nod.
Together, the two Astartes recounted everything that had transpired since they arrived in this Universe. They spoke of the War for Naboo, the cleansing of Tatooine. Of the Republic's corruption and spinelessness, of the Wars with the Hutts, and of the Jedi's disillusionments. They told him of the Chaos Sorcerer's, and of the Separatists, of the strange machines called "droids". They told him of Maximus—of how he had bled for his brothers, how he had stood against impossible odds to see their forces to victory.
Agemman listened silently, never interrupting. His expression never wavered, never betrayed his thoughts. Only his fingers twitched from time to time, flexing around the edge of his bed like a man straining against unseen chains.
When they finally finished, a long silence settled over the chamber. The only sound was the soft chime of medical monitors and the muffled hum of the Battle Barge's life-support systems.
At last, Agemman stirred.
He turned to one of the robed medicae at his bedside—an older man in Mechanicum robes, adorned with brass-rimmed lenses and servo-limbs. "Go to the surgical wing. Maximus must live. Spare nothing. Use the Apothecarion's full might."
The medicae bowed deeply. "By your will, my lord."
The Captain then looked to the rest of the assembled personnel in the room—apothecaries, adepts, junior officers—and raised a hand.
"Leave us."
They hesitated only a moment before obeying. One by one, they filed out of the chamber, leaving behind only Agemman's Honor Guard, Raxor, and Sebastian.
The massive doors hissed closed.
Agemman exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment as though gathering strength. When he spoke, his voice was not weakened by pain—but firm and filled with the weight of a commander's decision.
"I am no longer fit to lead," he said at last. "Not in this body. Not in this war. My mind is sharp, but my limbs fail me. This Universe—this twisted mockery of our own—is too fast, too fractured, too different. Our enemies multiply with each passing day, and the Imperium's strength wanes. I cannot command the 1st Company from a stasis cradle."
Sebastian stiffened, unsure of what he was hearing.
Agemman continued, "I have made my decision. Upon his recovery, Brother Maximus shall be elevated to the rank of Captain of the 1st Company of the Ultramarines."
Both Raxor and Sebastian's eyes widened slightly, but they did not interrupt.
"He has earned it," Agemman said. "Ten years. Ten years in this cursed universe, and he has never wavered. Neither have the two of you."
He looked at them both now with something new in his expression—pride, tempered by a heavy awareness of mortality.
"You three know this place. You understand the threats we face—Chaos, the Jedi, the Republic, the Separatists, the Necrons. And beyond them, something far greater is stirring. I can feel it in my bones."
Agemman's voice dropped, almost to a whisper. "Something ancient. Something like the Ruinous Powers."
Sebastian said nothing, but he could feel the chill in his transhuman bones.
"Maximus is not simply a warrior," Agemman went on. "He is a tactician, a shield to the weak, and a hammer to the unclean. He will lead with fire and faith. And he will have the two of you—his brothers—to stand at his side."
He reached up with a great effort, placing a hand briefly against Sebastian's shoulder plate.
"Swear to me," he said. "Swear that you will stay by his side. That you will see this Universe cleansed of the unworthy. That you will forge a future worthy of the Emperor's will."
Sebastian bowed his head.
"I swear it," he said. "On my honor as a Black Templar. In the name of my Primarch Rogal Dorn."
Raxor spoke as well. "As do I. On Vulkan's name."
Agemman nodded, eyes closing once more.
"Then… may the Emperor protect you. And may He forgive me for my weakness."
===
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