"Awake?"
The boy's long lashes trembled, and he slowly opened his sleepy eyes under the morning light. Though his mind was clear, he still lingered in the warmth, curling gently back into the man's arms and rubbing his cheek against the firm chest with a soft, nasal hum.
"Get up first. I have something to tell you."
Caelan's palm landed lightly on the boy's soft hair, rubbing it as one might pet a lazy kitten.
The boy sluggishly pushed himself up from Caelan's embrace like a cub reluctant to leave its warm den. He shifted half an inch away, but couldn't help glancing back at the spot that still held his warmth, before finally kneeling properly before Caelan.
"Knock, knock!"
The sound at the door broke the silence. A young, childish voice followed.
"Big brother, can I come in?"
"Come in, Mira."
Through the crack of the wooden door drifted a faint sweet aroma of wheat, along with the creak of the wooden floor as the little girl bounced in.
The boy's stomach growled audibly, a long, low sound that seemed to fill the quiet room. He hurriedly pressed a hand to his belly and lowered his head in embarrassment.
"Here." The girl with long, pale-golden hair pulled a strip of bread from her wicker basket and handed it to him.
The boy looked up at Caelan, and when Caelan nodded, he quickly reached out to take it.
Crack! He tentatively tapped the crust with his front teeth, leaving only two shallow marks.
"Big brother, what's his name?" Mira asked as she reached out and clumsily ruffled the boy's hair with her small palm.
"Angron," Caelan said.
Mira leaned in, her round eyes curling into two crescents as she beamed. "Hello, Angron! I'm Mira!"
"Hewwo," the boy mumbled through a mouthful of bread. He was still fighting with the tough loaf, forcing it down with effort. He was starving, he hadn't eaten anything since birth, and had already killed dozens of Aeldar.
Mira turned back and warned Caelan sternly, "Big brother, Dad told me to tell you, you must never go outside! If the village chief finds strangers, he'll call the High Knight to have you all arrested!"
"I understand. Thank you, Mira." Caelan patted her head, rubbing her hair like he was spoiling a playful kitten. Mira giggled, tilting her face up to follow the warmth of his hand.
She didn't know why, but being beside big brother made her feel light, as if she were a little fish returning to a warm sea.
Angron suddenly found his bread didn't taste so good anymore. He stared at Mira, who was pressing her head into Caelan's hand.
"You're not leaving?" Caelan asked.
Mira tensed, trying to arrange her freckles into a serious expression. "I'm staying here to watch you! I can't let you run off!"
"Then I'll give you a lesson too."
Mira blinked. "A… lesson?"
"Angron," Caelan said, "eat and listen."
The boy nodded. As soon as Caelan looked his way, the bread seemed to taste delicious again.
"The world beneath our feet is called Nuceria. This planet inherited advanced technology from the Dark Age of Technology, but its society is extremely primitive.
"The oligarchs rule through city-states, each controlled by a ruling clan. These elites live in luxury inside their palaces, while the citizens live outside the walls in sprawling slums.
"To amuse themselves, the nobles host grand gladiatorial games, slaves forced to fight and die for their entertainment."
"Angron, you are a Primarch. You will unite this world."
"Father… how?"
The boy learned quickly, like his brothers. He could already understand Caelan without telepathy, though his speech was still rough.
"You have two paths." Caelan raised a finger. "First, you can seize control from the top, take the oligarchs, use them to dominate the city-states. Quickest route, maybe a few months to unify everything.
"Second, unite the oppressed and lead a massive uprising. That road is hard. Poorly armed slaves can't easily fight noble armies. Tell me, Angron, which path will you choose?"
"The second." Angron's answer came without hesitation.
"Many will die if you choose that way," Caelan warned. "Are you sure?"
Angron nodded fiercely and bit the bread hard. "I don't like the slavers."
"Then from today, you must work for that path."
"Will you help me, Father?" Hope blazed in Angron's eyes.
"I will help, but it must be you who leads. You are the Primarch."
Angron's face lit up. He happily went back to gnawing on his bread.
"But…" Caelan's tone suddenly darkened. "Don't call me Father anymore."
Angron froze, eyes wide, full of confusion and pleading. "W-Why?" His trembling voice was like a wounded cub's whimper.
"Because I'm not your father," Caelan said, leaning closer with mock seriousness. "The Emperor is. If He hears you calling me that, He'll be angry!"
It was just a joke to scare the boy a little. But Angron lowered his head, saddened.
"The Emperor."
He whispered the unfamiliar title softly, the syllables heavy on his tongue like obsidian, hard and cold, sharp-edged and dark.
He clenched his fists unconsciously. Anyone who could make a child afraid to call someone "Father"… must be a tyrant in a golden robe.
"What's an uprising?" Mira asked blankly.
She didn't understand most of what they said, but she did know this: Caelan and Angron wanted to defy the nobles.
That terrified her. Nobles ruled Nuceria. Everyone was born to kneel before them. Why rebel? Wouldn't that mean no more bread to eat?
Wouldn't their house burn down, like Uncle Trill's did, when the village chief burned it because he refused to sell his land?
Trill's wife and baby had died in that fire. Mira had even held that baby once.
Her father had wanted to help put out the flames, but the chief said anyone who helped would have their own homes burned. No one dared move.
If they rebelled, the nobles would burn everything too.
Mira tugged Caelan's sleeve timidly. "C-can we… not rebel?"
Her voice was soft as a feather, trembling with fear. She didn't want anyone to die.
"No."
Caelan rested a hand on her hair. Angron scooted close, and Caelan placed his other hand on the boy's head.
Mira was just a farmer's daughter; she didn't have the same fire as Angron. Farmers weren't slaves, but their lives weren't much better. They had land, but the land only made them obedient. As long as they could survive, they endured exploitation.
They never dreamed of winning a rebellion. What could a few peasants do against nobles with advanced weapons?
Uprisings were the desperate struggles of the hopeless.
Slaves rebelled because they had nothing to lose.
Farmers, only if they saw a chance of victory, might join them.
"Are you afraid?" Angron asked.
Mira shuddered violently, curling up like a frightened leaf. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her dress until it cried under the strain.
Of course, she was afraid. She feared death, her own, her parents', Caelan's, and Angron's.
She just wanted everyone to live.
"Don't be afraid," Angron said, taking her hand. His warmth and certainty flowed through her.
"We'll win."
Her fear melted like frost. Warmth spread from their joined hands through her body.
It wasn't blind hope; it was conviction, like watching the sunrise after a long night.
They would win.
As long as he was there.
Because they were his children.
But… why them?
The air suddenly grew cold. Frost crept across the floor in branching patterns, ice blooming visibly across the wood. The sunlight refracted through the frost into cold golden shards.
Mira's breath misted and froze into falling ice dust. Her lashes glittered with frost.
Caelan gently took her icy hand. "Don't fear your power. Control it."
The phenomenon wasn't caused by Caelan or Angron; it came from Mira herself.
She was a psyker.
Like in all Imperial worlds, psykers here were seen as witches.
Mira knew what that meant, burned at the stake, or thrown into the arena. Her parents would become slaves, forced to fight for the nobles' amusement.
And she knew all this, without knowing how. Images of horror filled her mind, memories that weren't hers.
"Are you… psykers too?" Her voice was calm, unnaturally so. "Will the nobles burn me?"
"No." A voice echoed directly in her mind. "They will burn. We will overthrow them."
Mira hadn't seen Caelan's lips move, but she heard him.
Then she realized she hadn't moved her own lips either.
"So amazing," she whispered, looking at Angron with awe.
He blushed, lowering his head.
"You won't die," the voice continued, "but you will be captured, turned into a gladiator, branded with the Nails, and in your rage, you will kill your father."
Angron trembled. "That… that won't happen, right? You saved me!"
"I can't save you," Caelan said softly. "Only you can save yourself, and your people. If you don't overthrow Nuceria's rulers, the tragedy will repeat."
They shared everything, thoughts, emotions, memories. It wasn't one-way mind reading; it was mutual understanding.
Caelan hated telepathic intrusion, even from the Emperor or Malcador. But this, this was different.
He showed them Curze's life, his rise from the filth of Nostramo to a leader of rebellion. He showed them Russ, his journey around Fenris. He showed them Lorgar, growing from a blind follower of power into one who became power itself.
They traveled through three worlds together, all harsher than Nuceria.
Even this world seemed gentle in comparison.
"Don't worry," Caelan said finally, smiling faintly. "We'll win. Because I'm here."
"…It's hot," Mira murmured suddenly.
"You feel hot because someone's lighting a fire," Angron replied calmly.
Mira turned toward the window, flames were already devouring the roof.
"No! Don't burn Dad's house!"
She raised her hand, and the fire instantly stopped, as if strangled by an invisible force. But then the walls groaned and twisted like soft metal, the entire house warping under unseen pressure.
Boom!
Half the house ripped open like paper. Splintered beams jutted out like broken ribs.
Outside stood the villagers, frozen in fear, torches in hand. The village chief's face went pale under the sun.
"Kill them! Kill the witches!" he screamed.
"…I think I messed up," Mira whimpered. She had only wanted to put the fire out.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu