The Arch Angels: The Iron Plague Legion.

Chapter 15.

Back with the remembrance.
After a brief pause in my narrative, the atmosphere in the room remained still, engulfed in silence. I glimpsed at her, discovering a newfound curiosity dancing in her eyes. I continued to observe her intently, my anticipation mounting as I awaited any potential inquiries or remarks she might have. Time seemed to stretch on for what must have been a minute until, at last, she broke the silence.

"So, Partaqlus was on the verge of ending your life?" she questioned, her voice laced with a mix of concern and intrigue. "What could you have possibly done to push him to that extreme?"

Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I met her gaze before responding, "I succumbed to my own anger and hate; I surrendered and allowed my burning hatred and seething anger to consume me entirely, I made an Astartes from the World Eaters look like a calm chiled compared to me"

She regarded me with a hint of confusion, her brows furrowing slightly. "But that doesn't sound so grave, considering you were engaged in a battle against formidable adversaries," she contemplated aloud.

Maintaining a composed façade, I concealed the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. After a brief pause, I calmly stated, "Let us reserve judgment until you hear the entirety of my tale," before resuming my tale.

Chapter 15.
As I knelt before Partaqlus, my body trembling under the weight of his burning gaze, a wave of despair washed over me. The intensity of his piercing eyes seemed to reach into the depths of my soul, exposing every flaw and weakness within me. I desperately yearned to summon the strength to stand tall and meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, but my limbs felt heavy and lifeless, lacking the vigor that once coursed through my veins.

Partaqlus' accusation echoed in the air, reverberating through my mind like a haunting melody. "You are fallen, succumbed to the corrupting influence of Khorne," he declared, his voice cutting through the silence and leaving me reeling in disbelief. The world around me spun, as if the very fabric of reality was being twisted by his words. How could I have strayed so far from his grace?

His words pierced deeper still, like a blade thrust into the depths of my being. "And to make matters worse," he continued, his psychic voice heavy with disappointment in my mind, "you have stained your hands with the blood of four loyal Astartes from your own company." My heart clenched at the revelation, a cry of disbelief escaping my lips before I could even comprehend the weight of his accusation. "What are you saying?" I cried out

But before the words could fully escape my mouth, Partaqlus voice thundered in my mind, commanding silence. The force of his anger and disappointment crashed over me, engulfing me in a suffocating haze of shame and remorse. I felt as if I was drowning in his disapproval, the weight of my actions pressing down upon me with crushing force.

In that moment, I knew the road to redemption would be long and arduous, if it was even possible at all. I had fallen from grace, strayed from the path of righteousness, let myself be corrupted by the influence of the primal four. And now, under the weight of Partaqlus judgment, I found myself grappling with the shattered fragments of my own shattered soul.

I felt an overwhelming void, crushed to my core, incapable of comprehending what Partaqlus was disclosing. Memories eluded me, save for an intense loathing and an indescribable surge of unparalleled strength. Amidst it all, a voice emerged, brimming with hatred, fury, and violence. Desperately, I attempted to grasp onto any clear recollection, but it proved futile. Hatred, anger, and power were the only fragments that persisted in my mind. I yearned to cry out, pleading for forgiveness from my lord, willing to do whatever it took to earn his mercy. These thoughts echoed within me, hoping Partaqlus could perceive them. His response, thoughtful yet devastating, struck my soul like a blow. "Acta Non Verba," he conveyed, leaving me with no choice but to nod in understanding. I pondered those familiar words and their significance: Actions speak louder than words.

In the depths of despair, I pleaded, "I understand, I truly do. But I implore you, guide me towards redemption." With every ounce of determination, I mustered the courage to lift my head and meet Partaqlus' gaze. Our eyes locked, and within his stare, I sensed nothing but disdain and disillusionment. Though engulfed in a sea of desolation, I refused to break our connection, unwavering in my resolve to face my gene-father.

"Who among your comrades will stand beside you in battle once more?" echoed Partaqlus voice in the depths of my mind. His words pierced through my heart, striking at the undeniable truth. I had not only failed, but in my failure, I had become the harbinger of death for those brothers who had entrusted their lives to me, lives that I had callously extinguished. My mind swirled in a tempest of remorse, anguish, disdain, and self-indulgence. "I may not know the answer, but I yearn to make amends for my treachery," I thought to myself, my mind laden with determination.

"Prove your worth," Partaqlus declared, breaking the silence as his words escaped his lips instead of lingering in my mind. It was the first time he had spoken out loud. "I have a task for you, Eric. Succeed, and your transgressions against us will be forgiven. Fail, and I shall be the one to personally end your life. Do you comprehend?" His gaze locked onto mine, and I found myself unable to look away. Eventually, I nodded in understanding.

"Welcome to your new abode, within the confines of the Angelic Grace," Partaqlus continued, his voice filled with a strange mix of authority and compassion. "Although this cell shall be your dwelling, we will ensure that you have a bed and the bare essentials. No weapons or armor are to be carried aboard." His words hung in the air, emphasizing the gravity of my situation. Then, he added, "You are now one of the Angeli Vindictae."

As I peered back at him, I noticed a flicker of intensity in his eyes, different from the fire that burned within him before. It was as if he regarded me with newfound vision. "Your journey of redemption commences today, my fallen son," Partaqlus concluded, concluding our conversation with finality. With a swiftness, he turned and exited the room, leaving me alone to contemplate the magnitude of my task.

As Partaqlus exited the room, I attentively watched over him. "Angeli vindictae?" I pondered silently, translating it in my mind as Angel of Vengeance. The meaning behind Partaqlus' words eluded me, yet they managed to ignite a flicker of hope within me. Perhaps, just maybe, there was a chance for forgiveness, even after the lives I had taken. I wiped away the lingering tears from my eyes and rose to my feet, feeling a newfound determination taking hold of my heart. "Angeli vindictae," I whispered to myself, as if speaking those words would summon my former fervor back to me.

Alone I stood, anticipation coursing through my veins, as time dragged on relentlessly. Hours morphed into an eternity, and I found solace in the embrace of the wall, my weary body seeking respite. The minutes crawled by at an agonizing pace, until abruptly, a voice jolted me awake. "Sinner, rise," it commanded. I lifted my gaze, desperately searching for the source of this unexpected interruption.

Before me stood a figure both familiar and distant, an Astartes seldom engaged in conversation beyond polite pleasantries. It was Gabriel Heart, the esteemed chief chaplain of the 2nd Legiones Astartes. His eyes bore into me with a mixture of disdain and something more elusive, a sentiment I couldn't quite decipher. Gathering my strength, I rose from my seated position and approached him tentatively.

"Gabriel," I uttered, my voice a whispered reverence, as I inclined my head in a humble nod, acknowledging his position even in the midst of my own predicament.

"I have been bestowed with the solemn duty of guiding you on your path of redemption," he uttered, his gaze fixed upon me with an enduring perplexity. "Without delay, we must commence, for the depths of Horus' betrayal far transcend our initial comprehension. Our Primarch necessitates every Astartes warrior in order to confront his treacherous kin. However, perplexingly, he has charged me with restoring you to a state of combat readiness. Frankly, I fail to comprehend his reasoning. If the choice were mine, I would have opted for your immediate execution. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to me, our father desires your survival," Gabriel's words pierced through me like a thousand stinging blades, and in that moment, I realized the weight of scrutiny from every member of the Legion following my transgression.