Chapter 9: Temptation
Night stretched long and uneasy.
Erebus lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, his patience worn thin. Sleep refused him. The air felt wrong—too still, too heavy, as if the shadows themselves were listening.
Someone was watching him.
Erebus turned his eyes sideways, slow and careful.
If it had been a beautiful woman, he would have suspected the hand of Slaanesh at once.
Instead, it was worse.
Lorgar.
The primarch lay awake beside him, eyes bright in the darkness, unblinking.
Erebus felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"I should say this," Lorgar murmured. "If possible… do not strike my adoptive father again."
Erebus stared at him.
That tone—gentle, earnest, painfully sincere—unnerved him far more than threats ever could.
"That depends," Erebus replied carefully, "on whether he truly serves the Emperor."
"He does," Lorgar said at once. "Absolutely."
"Then I won't strike him," Erebus said.
"I believe you," Lorgar replied.
Erebus nearly laughed.
Believe me?You have known me for days.
This primarch was starving for trust. Faith had hollowed him out and left nothing beneath it.
"Good night, then… brother," Lorgar said.
"Good night," Erebus replied.
He closed his eyes, wondering bleakly when the galaxy had decided this was acceptable conversation. If this was truly the age of the Great Crusade, then the universe had already gone mad.
Eventually, sleep took him.
The dream was wrong.
Erebus found himself enclosed—suspended inside a perfectly smooth, transparent cube. He could not move. Could not speak.
Something stepped onto the surface above him.
A taloned foot—avian, blue, clawed.
The glass shuddered.
A red glare lashed out, hurling the shape aside. Then more presences pressed in: heat, rot, ecstasy, hunger. Colors bled into sensation. Eyes opened where there should have been none.
Red. Blue. Green. Violet.
And beyond them, something vast and golden, distant and cold.
The lights began to circle.
Conflict. Pressure. A silent war is playing out inches from his soul.
Erebus strained to see more—
Thunder exploded.
He woke with a sharp breath, heart hammering.
The ceiling stared back at him.
He turned his head stiffly.
Lorgar lay sprawled beside him, utterly without grace, snoring like a siege engine tearing down a city wall.
On the other side of the room, Kor Phaeron's snoring answered it—a wheezing, rasping counterpoint.
Surrounded.
Erebus sat up slowly.
After a moment's consideration, he took his pillow, stood, and moved to Lorgar's bedside.
The primarch slept deeply.
Erebus placed the pillow firmly over Lorgar's face.
Lorgar jerked awake at once, choking, arms flailing.
They crashed to the floor.
Morning came painfully.
The room looked like a battlefield.
Lorgar sat stiffly, face flushed with embarrassment. "I… did not know I snored," he said.
Erebus sat on the bed, hollow-eyed, saying nothing.
Kor Phaeron groaned from a corner.
"If the two of you are finished reconciling," the old priest rasped, "perhaps you could summon a physician."
His ribs ached. Several were certainly cracked.
Lorgar nodded at once. "We will change quarters tonight," he said. "This will not happen again."
Erebus muttered something resembling a prayer.
Later, alone, he wandered the corridors, forcing himself to breathe steadily. Thirteen measured breaths—discipline against panic.
The halls grew quiet.
Too quiet.
Mist crept along the floor.
A great mirror stood ahead, framed by blasphemous carvings.
As Erebus approached, the glass shattered—splitting cleanly into four sections.
Visions bloomed.
In one, he reclined in opulence, adored and powerful.In another, he stood as a conquering general.In the third, a philosopher, revered for wisdom.In the last piece. Family. Belonging.
A single word echoed in his mind.
Choose.
Rage surged.
Erebus struck the mirror with his fist. The visions shattered into countless fragments, each reflecting his face.
Convince, whispered the Warp.
"By the Emperor," Erebus snarled, "you parasites never learn."
He raised his voice, raw and furious.
"You promise everything and mean nothing. You steal desire and call it truth. You have no fathers, no mothers, no loyalty—only hunger."
Warp-light flared.
A lance of psychic force struck toward him.
Erebus crossed his arms instinctively—
—and the energy rebounded, screaming back into the void.
The chamber shook.
A voice howled, distant and enraged.
"You are destined for us—"
"Find me again," Erebus shouted into the darkness, "and I will burn you out of reality."
Silence answered him.
Erebus stood alone, breathing hard.
For the first time, he understood.
The Warp had noticed him.
And he had refused.