The Mystery Pryer and the Student of Ratiocination stepped up to the table, picked up the ritual daggers, and moved to either side.
They mimicked Nareth's earlier actions and spoke in Dunnic:
"I sanctify you, O blade of the ritual!
I purify you, that you may serve me within the rite!
In the name of the Black Emperor, you are sanctified!"
Then they circled the chamber once, completing the arrangement of the spiritual environment.
Nareth opened his spirit-vision and saw that the space they constructed was already cut off from the outside world.
"You've done it."
Both of their pathways were adept at ritual magic; this was no challenge for them.
The crucial step came next: whether the ritual design Nareth had created would indeed point toward him, and whether he could respond.
'I based this on countless sacrificial procedures. The ritual structure shouldn't be flawed.
Besides, I am a Primarch, far beyond an ordinary Sequence 7. The Briber is nearly fully digested, and in the Kingdom of Disorder, I already hold certain authority.'
His eyes glinted as he considered the consequences of failure.
'The Black Emperor's prestige must not falter. If this doesn't succeed, I'll simply let them "take the blame."'
'They've only just learned of the Black Emperor; they aren't yet devout. That's a plausible explanation.'
As the two pierced the spiritual barrier with their daggers, Nareth sent them a mental pulse:
"You will prepare an altar, wrought of obsidian. Place eleven candles upon it, arranged in this manner."
In Thomas and Arsena's minds, images surfaced,
To their left, candles were inverted on metal holders.
Farther left, the candelabrum set at a thirty-three–degree angle to the vertical axis…
The Pryer and the Student frowned slightly. This was unlike any ritual they knew.
Ordinary rites, even the primitive Fenrisians', followed certain patterns, mystical, yes, but structured.
What Nareth revealed seemed… chaotic.
Then another pulse followed:
"I have already prepared the candles for you."
They had been refined from the timber of Twinpeak Mountain.
"Divide the circle into twelve equal parts. Place the candles in the eleven positions surrounding where you now stand."
"From your left hand onward, place the following items in order: an iron balance… my compiled Iron Laws of Monarchs…"
As they beheld the eleven ritual items, the two psykers instantly realized their purpose: to draw the attention of the one being invoked, to compel His gaze.
Usually, offerings served this role, like the Heartsayers of the Crystal Mirage, whose worshippers sacrificed beating human hearts.
Here, though, among the objects they noticed the central cauldron, engraved with a holy sigil all too familiar.
It adorned the chestplates of every Shadow of Order, and could be found on legion warships, vehicles, and fortresses.
It was the sigil their Primarch had brought to them.
Thomas and Arsena exchanged a glance.
Thomas: "Father is a believer in the Black Emperor?"
Arsena: "Lord Nareth believes in no one. He is the Black Emperor."
Thomas: "That could be true. The power he grants us, even the Wolf King cannot match it, nor even mighty Horus."
Arsena: "The Monarch… no, the Emperor. He keeps silent because the time is not yet right. To proclaim it now would be a direct violation of the Imperial Truth."
Thomas: "Then we simply follow Father's will."
Thomas hesitated no longer. He would never bow to another, but to his gene-sire, he could devote his soul.
Nareth watched their silent exchange, then imparted the most critical portion of the incantation:
"With the ritual daggers, inscribe a spiritual boundary upon the altar, and recite in Dunnic these words:
"Black Emperor of the Shadows of Order,
Mysterious Sovereign of the Kingdom of Disorder,
Monarch of Light and Shadow, who governs the holds the rules."
The two psykers shared another look, trying to grasp the meaning.
Thomas: "Isn't Shadows of Order the new name Father gave our Legion?"
Arsena: "Ruler of Laws? Perhaps he uses his mastery of laws to grant us these powers?"
Thomas: "But why 'Kingdom of Disorder'? Is it linked to the decorations on the flagship, or to the Primarch's palace?"
Arsena: "Even the fortresses he designed for the Legion follow that motif."
Nareth did not linger. He sent them the closing words:
"I beseech Thy gaze. I beseech Thy favor."
And the specific petitions shall follow this form: 'I beseech Thee…' and then state the desire.
Finally, end thus:
"O Balance, foundation of the Kingdom of Disorder, grant strength to my invocation."
"O Iron Laws of Monarchs, basis of the Kingdom of Disorder, grant strength to my invocation."
The final invocations called upon the eleven ritual items (apart from the sigil) as conduits of power.
Thomas, ever the Pryer, grasped most of it. He spoke with fervor:
"Father, I shall begin at once to pray to…"
He caught himself, nearly said you, but remembering the Primarch's silence, changed his words:
"…to the Black Emperor."
Arsena bowed: "My lord, I shall fulfill your command without delay."
As he turned to leave, the communicator in his ear chimed.
Arsena reported: "My lord, one of the two Jokaero has successfully given birth."
"I know."
Nareth immediately carried the newborn into the third layer of the Kingdom of Disorder, settling it there before heading to the chamber where Slau Dha and the Black Wolf waited.
Slau Dha lay sprawled, mask torn away, hair disheveled, eyes glassy with exhaustion.
Sensing a presence, the Aeldar war-seer knew only Nareth could approach. His dull gaze sharpened with hatred.
"Mon-keigh," Slau Dha snarled, "you won't be smug for long. You will die."
Nareth sneered. "You can't even manage to kill yourself, yet still find strength to curse me?"
The Black Wolf padded up, fur sleek, eyes bright. The nightmare predator of Aeldar, he had recovered fully.
"Shall we continue?" the wolf asked expectantly.
"Begin."
Slau Dha shivered. "Mon-keigh, if you dare, kill me now, otherwise…"
His words broke off as his eyes slammed shut, dragged into a dream.
He stood within an Aeldar craftworld. Shadows of Order stormed through, boltguns roaring, tearing kin apart by the hundreds.
Every moment, more Aeldar were shredded into gore.
Deja vu struck Slau Dha. Had he lived this nightmare countless times?
He looked up as the Shadows reached him, a chainsword shrieking as it cleaved a guardian in two.
Bathed in blood, fury boiled in him. Donning the War Mask, he turned rage into power.
"All mon-keighs must die!"
He leapt, only to be struck by an overwhelming force.
"Nareth!"
Terror seized him as the Primarch tore through his psychic defenses.
Moments later, Nareth withdrew from the mindscape.
'I found no method of how Slau Dha revived John Grammaticus into an perpetual. But I did uncover the rune-circles the Cabal agents use to contact each other.'
He thought a moment, then his eyes lit up.
'Even if the Cabal learns of Slau Dha's failure, they cannot divine what happens in the Kingdom of Disorder. They won't know I hold their means of communication. I can send an agent, pose as one of Slau Dha's operatives, and infiltrate the Cabal from within. Since they already target me, better to strike first and eliminate this threat.'
The Cabal was ancient, millennia old.
'And I could harvest countless secrets… and many alchemical ingredients.'
He resolved to move against them.
Nareth then turned to the Black Wolf, seeing the black tether binding them.
'The link between us is now stable.'
Placing his hand upon the wolf's back, he drew him back into the waking world.
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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