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Cassian's stomach still felt pleasantly full from the last meal — a rare sensation after so many days of hunger and hardship. Sleep had come easily after, heavy and dreamless, letting his body mend from the strain of overusing both his muscles and his mind. For once, he let himself indulge. No looming threats. No desperate schemes. Just a warm bed and the quiet hum of the ship beneath him.
By the time he woke, another full day had passed. His limbs ached a little less, and his mind felt clearer. Not entirely back to normal — whatever that meant these days — but the worst of the exhaustion had faded. He stretched, feeling his joints pop, then settled back onto the cot with a long exhale.
Not bad.
But rest could only take him so far. His armor and weapons had taken a beating — just like him. If he wanted to survive what came next, they needed to be in peak condition. And that meant finding someone who knew what they were doing.
The ship had to have a Mechanicus contingent. No vessel this size traveled without them. So Cassian made his way through the ship's corridors once more, seeking the faint canticles of the Machine God and the hiss of sacred oils. The Magos wasn't hard to find.
Cassian found the priest hunched over a disassembled servitor, mechadendrites flicking through parts with meticulous care. The air stank of incense and machine oil.
"Magos," Cassian said carefully.
The tech-priest turned, a red lens focusing on him. "Identify."
Cassian reached into his coat, withdrawing the insignia he'd received from the Magos Biologis. The DNA strand gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the Mechanicus symbol behind it caught the priest's attention immediately. The Magos' eye whirred softly.
"Curious," the Magos intoned. "The Biologis do not part with such artifacts lightly."
Cassian kept his expression neutral. "I earned it."
The Magos tilted his head. "Purpose of inquiry?"
Cassian hesitated. How best to phrase this? He decided to go with honesty — or a close enough approximation.
"I require assistance." He gestured for the Magos to follow. "Come with me."
The tech-priest didn't question him. Either the insignia carried more weight than Cassian realized, or the Magos was just curious enough to humor him. Either way, they walked in silence back to Cassian's quarters.
Cassian keyed the door open and stepped inside, gesturing toward the corner where his power armor stood. The Magos froze.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then the tech-priest stepped forward, slow and reverent. His mechadendrites curled around the edges of the armor's plates, careful not to scratch the surface.
"This…" The Magos' voice was barely a whisper. "This is… Inquisitorial stock." He turned, the red lens focusing sharply on Cassian. "Where did you acquire such a holy relic?"
Cassian shrugged. "Found it."
The Magos stared at him for a long moment, then turned back to the armor. Slowly, carefully, he knelt, placing one metal hand against the breastplate. A low stream of Binaric Cant poured from his vox-grille, a soft hymn to the machine spirit within. Cassian stood silently, watching.
When the Magos finally rose, he turned to Cassian, his expression unreadable. "You seek maintenance."
Cassian nodded. "It's served me well. I want to keep it that way." He hesitated. "I'd also like to learn."
The Magos blinked. "Learn?"
Cassian shrugged again. "The armor's saved my life more than once. I figure it's only right I know how to care for it properly."
For a moment, the Magos said nothing. Then, slowly, he inclined his head. "A worthy pursuit."
The next few hours passed in a blur. The Magos guided Cassian through the proper rituals, each step a blend of practical maintenance and holy rite. They purified the armor with sacred oils, anointed its joints with unguents, and recited the proper canticles to appease its machine spirit.
Cassian listened closely, following the Magos' instructions to the letter. He worked the servos, cleaned the power feeds, and checked the integrity of the fiber bundles. The machine spirit purred softly beneath his fingertips, as if pleased by the attention.
The Magos watched him carefully, occasionally nodding in approval. "You have a gift," he said quietly. "Few outside the Cult Mechanicus possess such attunement."
Cassian snorted. "Just good instincts."
The Magos tilted his head. "Perhaps." He handed Cassian a data-slate. "Study this. It contains the rites of maintenance."
Cassian accepted the slate, tucking it into his coat. "Thanks."
They moved on to the weapons next — the Godwin-pattern boltgun, the plasma gun, and the melta. The Magos' reverence only grew as each weapon was unveiled. He ran his hands along the barrels, whispering soft prayers to the machine spirits within.
"These are relics," the Magos said softly. "Each one worthy of a shrine."
Cassian chuckled. "They're more useful in a fight."
The Magos turned, his red lens flickering. Then, surprisingly, he laughed — a dry, metallic sound. "Perhaps you are right."
They worked in silence for a while longer, the only sounds the hiss of sacred oils and the hum of the ship's engines. When at last the work was done, the Magos stepped back, surveying their handiwork. The armor gleamed under the dim light, its machine spirit purring softly. The weapons were clean and well-oiled, ready for battle once more.
"You have done well," the Magos said quietly. "The Omnissiah would be pleased."
Cassian smiled faintly. "All paths lead to the Omnissiah." He gestured to the armor. "Flesh or machine, it's all the same. Every act of understanding is worship."
The Magos stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Perhaps you are right." He placed a hand on Cassian's shoulder. "Should you ever seek the path of the Mechanicus, know that you will find allies."
Cassian nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
As the Magos left, Cassian sat down on his cot, staring at the armor. The machine spirit purred softly in the back of his mind, a low pulse of warmth and approval. He ran a hand along the polished plates, feeling the hum beneath his fingertips.
For the first time in a long while, he felt… calm.
Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all.
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The Imperator Bellum trembled beneath his boots. Captain Daelus Korvin gripped the brass railing of the command dais, knuckles white, as the ship's ancient machine spirit groaned against the planet's corrupted atmosphere. The bridge was alive with panicked vox chatter, the hurried clatter of boots, and the low drone of warning klaxons echoing through the vaulted halls.
"Thrusters holding at sixty percent output!" a junior officer called out, voice strained. "The gravitational pull is increasing — it's like the planet doesn't want us to leave!"
Korvin's jaw tightened. "Increase power to the dorsal engines. I want us out of this hell before we become part of it."
The Imperator Bellum was a proud vessel, a dictator class-cruiser, built to house thousands and armed to rain death upon the enemies of the Imperium. Yet as it clawed its way free of the daemon-infested world below, it felt as if the ship itself recoiled from the horrors that unfolded beneath its hull.
The viewport displayed a nightmare. Where once a hive world stood, now only writhing masses of flesh and iron twisted through broken cityscapes, rivers of molten metal and blood running between shattered spires. In the atmosphere, daemons soared like vultures over a dying carcass, their unnatural forms shrieking through the thin air. Lightning crackled in the clouds, splitting the sky with eerie purple and green hues. The world had turned into a nightmare given form — a daemon world.
"Captain, multiple warp signatures converging on our position!" The sensor officer's voice cracked. "Daemons, hundreds of them!"
"Void shields holding?" Korvin barked.
"Affirmative, but the stress is immense. I don't know how long they'll last!"
The ship lurched violently as a daemon collided with the shields, its form exploding into dark mist against the invisible barrier. Korvin steadied himself. "Helmsman, push her harder! Break through!"
The helmsman, sweat pouring down his face, shoved the engine controls forward. The Imperator Bellum roared as its thrusters flared, the ship surging upward. Outside, daemonic forms clawed at the vessel, trying to drag it back down into the madness below. Korvin could almost feel the hatred pressing against the hull.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. A deep, bone-rattling groan echoed through the ship. For a moment, the bridge fell silent, save for the ragged breaths of its crew. Then, the auspex screamed.
"Captain!" A comms officer nearly stumbled over his console. "Something massive… it's—"
Before he could finish, the viewport darkened. A colossal form pushed through the clouds — a Greater Daemon. Towering, monstrous, with eyes like dying stars and wings that spanned the heavens. It raised a clawed hand, and Korvin felt the temperature drop as its gaze fell upon them. The shields flared brighter, cracks of blue lightning dancing across the hull.
"Fire forward batteries!" Korvin roared.
Macro-cannons thundered, filling the sky with explosive light. The daemon recoiled, screeching, as the rounds tore through its form. The ship pushed upward, straining against the planet's grip, engines howling.
"Almost clear of the atmosphere!"
The hull groaned, metal warping under the strain. Every deck felt the ship's pain as it fought against the pull of Chaos itself. The air grew thick, heavy, like a thousand invisible claws dragging the cruiser back. Korvin gritted his teeth. "Come on, old girl… just a little more."
Then, with a deafening crack, they breached the atmosphere.
The ship lurched, momentarily weightless before the void embraced them. The view shifted, and the writhing mass of the daemon world fell behind, shrinking as they accelerated into orbit. The tension on the bridge broke, and the crew exhaled as one.
Korvin slumped against the railing, heart pounding. "Status?"
"Void shields holding. Engines stabilizing. We're free, Captain."
He nodded slowly, looking out into the cold darkness of space. The battle wasn't over. Not yet. But for now… they had escaped.
"Set course away from the planet. No warp jump now. No ship has escaped this cluster.
Find a imperium aligned world."
As the crew moved to carry out his orders, Korvin allowed himself a rare moment of relief. They had survived. For now.
And in the dark, the stars watched.
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Word count: 1723
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