Asked the voice.
"Who… are… you?"
Again and again it echoed in his clouded consciousness as an icy emptiness spread throughout his body.
"Death. So this is what it's like?"
"No," the same voice answered. "Kariél Lohars, nameless ghost, this is not death."
Boom!
A clap of thunder struck.
…
"This is not death," a man told him.
He had a dark face, a laurel wreath crowned his head, and his body was clad in golden armor. He looked tired, and even his almost divine appearance and luxurious armor could not hide this fatigue that came from the very depths of his being.
"Who are you?" after a short silence, the ghost asked.
"And who are you?" the man asked in turn.
Then he shook his head, as if talking to himself:
"Are you Kariél Lohars? No. Kariél Lohars is long dead. In the last moment of his life, he knocked on the gates of hell, and you… you, ghost, appeared at his call."
The azure sky behind the man was dazzlingly bright, and high in the zenith, the sun slowly poured out its light.
"Light…"
Ghost involuntarily raised his hand, shielding his eyes. He hadn't seen such bright natural light in so long that the sight of the sun overwhelmed him with an almost irresistible desire to cry.
But he couldn't ignore the question.
"Who are you, really?" the ghost asked quietly.
The man did not answer, just stood under the sun and looked at him intently. His gaze was calm, but it caused a strange irritation in the ghost.
"Are you one of them?" suppressing his emotions, he asked coldly.
"No," the man shook his head. "I am not one of them."
His words were not supported by any evidence, but for some reason, the ghost believed him.
One word – and he believed.
"So who are you?"
"I cannot answer that question," the man said. "Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know how."
"Are there people in the world who don't know who they are?"
"Of course. For example, you. Or me."
The man turned his head and looked in another direction of the azure sky. The moment his gaze touched the emptiness, plains and rivers appeared there. Animals were still not visible, but it was much better than just nothing.
"I know who I am," the ghost said quietly.
"Then why do you still refuse to call yourself by the name Kariél Lohars?" the man asked.
"…It's none of your business."
The man shook his head again.
"It wasn't," he said. "But now it is, ghost."
"What nonsense! You stand here, spouting riddles and lies. You act as if you know everything about me, but you don't even want to give your name. And where are we anyway?!"
"In my memory," the man answered.
He walked towards the plain visible ahead, and the ghost, frowning, followed him. He still didn't understand what was happening, but following seemed like a better choice than staying put.
They walked and walked, and the sun still shone softly. As they approached, the outlines of the plain became clearer.
Along the river, two wheat fields stretched out. Near them, adobe houses were scattered, children played merrily amidst the dust and dirt, and a few dogs dozed lazily in the shade of the trees.
"…Where is this?" the ghost asked quietly.
The man turned and calmly replied:
"I already told you, ghost. This is my memory."
"Or, let's say: this is Earth, the border of Europe and Asia at some point before our era. Tectonic shifts have not yet erased this place from the face of the earth. These people are preparing dinner, their day's work is finished."
Ghost's hands trembled.
The man noticed this but said nothing. He turned again and looked at one of the houses. His gaze slid over the empty opening in the wall that served as a window, and the expression in his eyes changed slightly.
"You…" the ghost began slowly. "Repeat, where are we?"
"On Earth," the man answered. "If you don't believe me, I can show you more proof, ghost."
"…Who are you?"
"What do you think?"
The man looked at him intently with his deep eyes.
"What do you think I am? You already have the answer, don't you, ghost? You know perfectly well that I am not lying. Lies are not needed in such a conversation."
Trembling, the ghost took a step back and began to breathe heavily. But the man didn't give him a chance to calm down. If he had enough time, he would have done so.
But now, what he lacked most was time.
Raising his head, the man glanced at the sky. The sun was still shining, but its light was no longer as bright as before.
"…Are you from Earth?" the ghost asked with a hope he himself didn't realize.
"Yes."
"…"
Sometimes an affirmative answer is scarier than a negative one.
Ghost closed his eyes and remained silent for a long time. An indescribable hurricane of emotions raged in his soul, but the man interrupted his reflections.
"You saved him. I am grateful," he said.
"Who?"
"My son. You call him Ghost, and I call him Konrad Curze."
The man slowly shook his head.
"I didn't have time to give him this name."
"He is your son?"
"Yes, ghost. But he is not what you think he is. He is not a perverted creation of the Nostramo aristocrats. He is…"
The man lowered his head and sighed. For the first time, he showed such clear emotions.
"…He is one of my visions of humanity's future."
The man spoke slowly:
"I don't have much time, ghost. I wanted to tell you about this earlier, but you refused many times…"
"It was you all along…" the ghost's eyes snapped open.
"…It was me," the man interrupted him.
He lowered his head, and for a moment, pain reflected on his face, but when he looked up again, it was gone.
"I don't have time for long explanations, ghost," he said emotionlessly.
"I'll be brief. This is no longer the era you remember. The times you knew have long passed. So long ago that humanity has managed to spread throughout the galaxy… But where there is a rise, there will inevitably be a…"
He didn't finish. The man's body shuddered strangely, as if from a strong blow, and he collapsed to the ground.
Ghost frowned and, approaching, helped him up.
The sun in the azure sky brightened even more, but the ghost didn't notice. His attention was focused on something else – where his hand touched the man's armor, a familiar icy sensation appeared.
"…Is it them?" the ghost asked seriously.
"Them," the man answered slowly. "Have you seen them?"
"I have."
"So that's how it is…"
The man nodded, and something in the depths of his dark eyes extinguished. He got to his feet and continued the interrupted conversation.
"Humanity is now scattered throughout the galaxy, and there are many terrible planets like Nostramo. Oppression and suffering are almost everywhere. You must understand that I am not lying, ghost."
Ghost nodded silently. How could he deny it? He had witnessed the dark side of human nature for too long.
"If you want to test a man – give him power."
This saying was absolutely true. What the Nostramo aristocrats did when they gained power… it was disgusting even to recall.
"Therefore…"
The man exhaled slowly and frowned slightly. At that moment, the sun in the sky disappeared, and only the last ray of light illuminated him and the ghost.
Something appeared from the darkness.
"…They have come," the man said quietly. "Our brief conversation is over."
He looked at the ghost.
"I want to thank you, ghost. You protected him, kept him from a crooked and thorny path…"
The man seriously extended his right hand.
"But I didn't save you because of his desire," he said slowly. "Will you accept this?"
"Accept what?" the ghost asked.
"To become Kariél Lohars."
Golden fire suddenly flashed in the man's eyes. Piercing screams came from the darkness, and in the next second, the stench of burnt flesh wafted.
"Will you accept?" the man repeated, holding his hand in the air. "Ghost?"
"…"
Kariél Lohars extended his right hand and shook it.
"I accept," he answered silently. The face of Ghost appeared before his eyes.
"I still owe him a knife."
…
The gold-clad giant opened his eyes sharply, and golden light flashed in them like lightning. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and blood slowly trickled from the corners of his mouth.
+ Your Majesty. +
+ I know, Malcador, I know. +
+ You're playing for high stakes. +
+ I already know the opponent's cards. What high stakes can there be? +
+ But this ghost… he is full of mysteries. +
+ A person's character is formed by his past, and his actions by his character. You know this, don't you? +
+ Since you insist, I have nothing to say. After all, who am I? Just a Sigillite. But you'd better be careful. +
+ Careful about what? +
+ Asking questions when you know the answer is a very bad habit, Your Majesty. Besides, your courage… using psychic powers to cross half the galaxy and bring a man back to life, completely transforming him… it worries me. +
+ I asked a question, knowing the answer, but you answered anyway, Malcador? +
+ Because I have no choice, Your Majesty! +
The giant in golden armor smiled slightly and, standing up, walked to the porthole of his cabin. He turned away from the ostentatious luxury that accompanied his current position. He never liked ornate decorations, but since he was now the "Emperor," he had to conform.
Looking at the stars outside the window, the giant nodded thoughtfully.
+ In short, Malcador, trust me at least once. How about this? +
+ Your Majesty… +
+ Mm? +
+ I always trust you. But perhaps you should visit your sons. Lorgar and Rogal Dorn have had disagreements. They want to hear your explanations… +
The giant fell silent.
+ Send the Adeptus Custodes. +
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan