(Hello everyone. Hope all are well. I am going to try and do a weekly or biweekly installment of stories for the Imperial Heralds for as long as y’all enjoy. Confusingly, this takes place a little before my last short. I’ll try to be better about that in the future. I will also eventually compile these shorts somewhere for easier reading and try to add links in the future. Thank you everyone! As always, comments and critiques are more than welcome.)

His footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavy ceramite meeting plasteel again and again. The lumen panels flickered and although he knew they did not coincide with his gait, sometimes the effect was eerie.

His footsteps were not the only noise. No ship in space was completely quiet. The engines would make the walls vibrate slightly, making a just audible hum to his enhanced hearing. Some ships played devotional music, others had prayers recited on loop. The crackle of vox messages could always be heard.

However another noise intruded, one foreign and unwholesome. A low moan seemed to always be present, interspersed with growls or claws on metal. It was as if something outside of the ship tried to force its way within, eager to crack the shell for the meat inside.

He had heard that any Warp travel had similar effects even at the best of time. With the ship traveling through the Cicatrix Maledictum, the scar of the heavens, the effects were multiplied many times. He tried to ignore it but every so often the feeling of a presence that wished ill on him could be felt, and he disliked it immensely.

He reached his destination, a set of doors that were far taller and wider than his already robust frame. Five of his enhanced build could walk through shoulder to shoulder without touching the frame, carrying two more standing on his shoulders. The doors were bare of ornamentation, plain and serviceable.

Before he knocked he paused, staring off in one direction and into a plain wall. Something felt different there, something faded but undeniably there. He felt compelled to follow it, to seek it out. Yet he did not and shaking the feeling away he knocked once. His armored fist rang off the metal, a dull knell of metal that carried down the corridor.

The doors slid open without complaint. As they did he stepped in without hesitation, stopping short at the sight. The walls within the room were covered in words. Lines upon lines were written all along the walls, from above his helmet and down to where his boots touched the floor. The entirety of the room had words lovingly, laboriously, etched.

The writer continued his work. The immense machine hunched over a panel, a long scraping noise ever constant filled the room. A large digit, as thick as a power maul, relentlessly slid over the metal. The words appeared via erosion, a testament to patience and stubbornness.

“When I first started this, the senior tech Magos offered me a plasma cutter. He said that I could scribe far more efficiently with one. He even offered to install it into my finger.” The contemptor dreadnaught’s voice was deep and somehow warm. No machine sound eroded his words, complete and utter clarity was his speech.

“That was...generous of him to offer,” the marine replied. Truthfully he was unsure how to respond, he felt compelled to. To keep the Dreadnaught speaking.

“Indeed. I declined obviously. I told him that I had always written this way. That it was tradition. He seemed to accept tradition as reason enough.” The Anchorite, the Chapter Master of the Imperial Heralds Reborn turned and towered over the marine. “Thank you for coming. Remove your helmet please.”

Without hesitation the marine did as asked. The neck seals hissed and he removed his helmet, breathing in the recycled air. It was stale yet comforting, a trace of metal and oil just noticeable.

“Ahh. You also hail from my home. You must have went into stasis near the end of things. Do you remember it?”

The marine felt his hearts beat harder. He shared a home with his Chapter Master. A home forever lost and reviled. “A little my Lord. I remember sands that burned and froze, winds that scoured.”

“Well said.” The Anchorite took a ponderous step and the scrape of metal resumed. “Any news of our course?”

“Are you not receiving notices from the ship’s captain?” The marine frowned at the disrespect.

“I see them whenever I wish. I choose to speak to my men for my information whenever possible.”

The marine felt his hearts leap again. “No change at this time. The Maledictum continues to hamper the fleet with no end in Navigator sight.” He paused, eyes flicking towards that spot again. The same spot that tugged at his attention.

The Anchorite did not miss the pause nor the look. “What do you feel? What do you see?”

“It is nothing my Lord.”

“It is something. Tell me. If you prefer to be commanded then assume you are.”

A touch of embarrassment made him wince. “I feel...something my Lord. Something that draws my attention. I do not know what it is. I cannot see anything. Only feel something.”

“Where?” No disbelief was in the Anchorite’s tone. “Show me.” At the marine’s point he stopped writing. “Have you tried to follow it?”

“Yes my Lord. It draws me to the same part of the hull everytime.”

“It wants you to go beyond the hull?” At the marine’s nod the machine walked to a plinth and activated the star chart. Worlds and systems swirled into coherent light. “Do you feel it here?”

The marine’s eyes widened and he pointed at a planet. “Yes...there. I know not what that planet is. But, I feel drawn to it.” The marine almost jumped at the sound of vox crackling, then realized the Anchorite was laughing.

“Captain, turn towards these coordinates,” the Chapter Master voxed to the bridge.

If the captain had any reservations they went unvoiced. After a few long moments her voice came out of the speakers at a rush. “My Lord! We see it! The edge of the Maledictum. The navigator sees clear space and we are getting astropathic calls for aid. It is a sanctum world under assault.”

“Understood. We are to go at speed to provide assistance. They have led us out of the storm and we will return their kindness.” The Anchorite turned and stared directly at the marine. “Well done. You have set us upon our journey.”

“Luck my Lord.”

“No. Faith. You felt the call of the faithful. You heard their plight. Now we are saved from the Warp because of it.” He touched the marine’s chest plate with the same finger he etched with and the marine felt an indescribable warmth. “Do not diminish faith, not yours. Not anyone else’s.”

The dreadnaught stride towards one wall and with a flick of his arm, pushed a thick slab of metal aside. Weapons and equipment became revealed, mounted and gleaming. He reached out and plucked two objects from the wall and offered them to the marine.

They looked tiny in his mighty hands but the storm shield was almost as tall as the marine, covering him from helmet to greaves. Unpowered it was heavy but the marine was proud to hold it. The handle of the neo-volkite seemed crafted for his hand alone and holding both weapons made him feel complete.

“I name you Lieutenant Marus, a commander of your brothers. You will shield them from harm, you will protect the faithful, guide the lost.”

Marus saluted, clenched hand to chest. “Yes Chapter Master! I will be your herald.”

Another crackle of laughter. “A herald amongst Heralds. Go then Lieutenant. Ready the men. We have arrived to Imperium Nihlius with a message to proclaim.”

“Yes my Lord. That the Imperium has not forgotten.”

“Indeed. The lost has been found. They are not alone.”