The Eye of Terror: Epilogue

[Cameron]

Deep inside the whirling mass of warp storms once known as the Eye of Terror, a last lingering pocket of reality remains, held in place unintentionally by an enchantment that was cast for an entirely different purpose. A small patch of ruined earth, still dotted with remains of the once vast Chaos Spire, is all that remains of the Chaos homeworld. As the Warp buffets endlessly against the boundaries of the enchantment seeking entry into the space, a crackle of energy erupts from the center of it. There is an audible popping sound, and a massive tome falls to the ground.

The Book of Magnus seems to breathe as it flips open on its own. Pages turn until it comes to rest on one holding a glowing rune with an eye in the center. There is another flash, and Ahzek Ahriman, former Grand Librarian of the Thousands Sons chapter of Chaos Marines and until recently, the Grand Master of Chaos, is restored to life once more. The great sorcerer straightens his robes with a frustrated sigh as he looks around to get his bearings.

"So. All of my collected power, wasted. The Eye of Terror destroyed. Abbadon has ruined everything."

The Book closes and floats into Ahriman's hands.

"Even my Black Staff is nowhere to be found. Oh well. As long as I still have this, I can rebuild it. I can rebuild everything."

Ahriman regards the raging warp storms. As he looks upward, he fails to notice tears in the ground opening and forming an intricate pattern under his feet.

"This pocket of reality will not hold long. I should escape. I can use the Ways to travel-"

Ahriman's words are cut off as a chain wraps around the Book of Magnus, ripping it from his grasp. He tries to lunge for it but metal hooks attached to more chains rip from the ground and slam into him, holding him fast. He screams in pain and anger.

"WHO DARES DEFY THE GREAT AHRIMAN! SHOW YOURSELF!"

A deep yet distorted chuckle is heard from behind him. The wrecked bleeding remains of James Peterson steps in front of his new captive. He is soaked in blood and other fluids. One of his arms hangs limp at his side, it's hand missing. It is clear that he can barely stand. But the daemon blade Drach'nyen remains clutched in his good hand and green fire dances wildly in his one remaining eye.

"Are you proud of me? I survived. Your GREATEST creation. Everything else was laid to waste but I lived."

Ahriman sputters, twisting wildly in a fruitless attempt to break free from his bonds.

"Yes, yes! Y-you did live! But your body is clearly in need of repairs. I can f-fix that for you! Just let me free and return my property to me, and I will restore you! You can b-be my right hand as we strike forth to end those who r-raised their hands against us!"

Peterson stares at Ahriman for a long moment.

"That is a fine offer. But I don't want to be anyone's right hand anymore. And I certainly don't want to wait around for you to fix me. Besides, why fix this hunk of crap when there is a perfectly good alternative right here in front of me!"

With one swift motion, Peterson plunges Drach'nyen into Ahriman's stomach. Blood pours into the carved ritual circle underneath him, slowly filling up the patterns and shapes. Ahriman coughs weakly.

"No... you can't..."

Peterson laughs.

"Oh, I certainly can. And I am! Thanks to your good buddy Abbadon teaching me how to read this."

Peterson produces the missing page of the Book of Magnus with a flourish. Ahriman's eyes widen beneath his great helm.

"NO!"

Peterson walks into the circle, carefully stepping over the channels of blood. He slams the page into Ahriman's chest and pins it in place with a jagged shard of metal, causing Ahriman to shout in pain once more.

"Hold this for me, friend. I'm down a hand."

Ahriman writhes weakly as Peterson grasps the hilt of Drach'nyen.

"There you go, pal. A nice fresh soul for you, just like I promised. Eat your fill."

Ahriman screams as Drach'nyen bursts into flames. Peterson hums to himself as the daemon blade consumes the life essence and soul of Ahriman. He then yanks the blade from the corpse.

"Step 2 complete! Now, let's see. How did that go again?"

Peterson peers at the parchment still pinned to the chest of Ahriman's corpse. He mumbles words to himself for a moment before nodding and stepping backwards out of the ritual circle.

"Okay! Here goes!"

Peterson makes a show of clearing his throat loudly despite not needing to breathe, and then begins to recite the spell from the page, exactly as he had recited it for Abbadon when the Despoiler claimed the former body of Kalana.

"Mutata in interitu, et domini. Nos quaerere potentia. Transferamus vas animam inanem, et reddere vitae statum. Ut sit vas tuum imple potestatem ad ministerium vestrum. Hanc vitam carnis et fingunt illam tuam. Famulórum, Tzeentch!"

There is a flash of light and a pillar of energy bursts from the ritual circle into the sky. Peterson's lifeless body collapses to the ground in a tangle of dead flesh and ruined metal. The chains holding up Ahriman's corpse also give way, allowing it to tumble to the ground. The blood in the ritual circle has been consumed and turned to ash. For a few moments, nothing stirs. And then Ahriman's body lifts itself from the ground. As it reaches its full height, it regards its hands and barks a laugh in a voice that isn't its own.

"So it worked! Even with Tzeentch being dead, it still worked! HAHAHAHA!"

Peterson rips Ahriman's helm off his head, breathing deeply. The flesh underneath is already reshaping itself to look like Peterson's original face. The right eye is still a swirling mass of chaos fire. Looking down, Peterson focuses, and the wounds caused by Drach'nyen close themselves.

"Perfect! PERFECT! Oh, it feels so fucking GREAT to be alive again. And now, I have this."

Peterson snatches Drach'nyen up off the ground.

"And I also have THIS."

Peterson gestures with his other hand, and the Book of Magnus flies into it. Holding Drach'nyen under one arm, he flips open the Book with his free hand and re-inserts the missing page, which seems to magically mend itself. He then slams the living tome shut.

"OKAY! Everything's coming up Peterson! Now... what was that idiot saying about the Ways?"

Peterson closes his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. They snap open again and he grins wildly.

"Oh, that is VERY handy. I guess it's time to get the fuck out of here. There's a whole multiverse out there just waiting for me. And I am so very very hungry."

Peterson laughs as his body seems to fold itself into a hole in reality and vanish. Seconds later, the enchantment fails and warp storms consume the last remaining bit of reality.

[Cameron]

Mary Argent sits on the bridge of the Starblade MKII and watches as the Eye of Terror slowly collapses in on itself. As it does, she can feel her energy levels finally subsiding. Shaking her head, she stands to her feet and looks at a nearby screen. The remnants of the Imperial fleet have made it out, along with a jalopy of a warship that can only be Ork in design and a large number of Eldar and Tau warships. It would appear as though the mission was successful. But where was Cameron and the others?

Mary is startled by a sudden flash and explosion of energy from just behind her. She wheels around just in time to see Cameron and the future version of herself crumple to the deck. They are both clearly injured.

"Cameron! And uh... me! What the hell happened? Where's everyone else?"

Mary tries to rush to their side but is cut off by a swarm of medical servitors that swarm in from the ceiling, chirping and scanning their two newly arrived patients. Cameron hauls himself to his feet, waving them off impatiently.

"Back off, back off, damn it. I'm fine."

Cameron rests a heavy gaze on the current version of Mary while helping the future version to her feet. Both look like they have been through hell, and are covered in blood, only some of which is their own. They both look past Mary, out of the viewport to the section of space where they Eye of Terror once blazed, and is now almost gone. Cameron sighs.

"We finally did it."

The Mary of the future glances down at the beat up data pad that she has been occasionally checking throughout the entire ordeal. Seemingly satisfied with what she sees, she thumbs a switch, clearing the screen, before sliding it back into the pack attached to her armor.

"Yes. It's almost over."

Mary shoots a look at her future self.

"Almost? What do you mean 'almost?' Where's Karyl, Garr, and Kari? Where's Kalana?"

The future version of Mary does not respond. She steps to one side as Cameron limps past her, heaving himself into the command chair of the bridge. With a gesture, a number of controls appear in front of him. He begins tapping them, flipping through screens.

"I need to hail the fleet. Get a status report. Make sure the rest of the Chapter made it out. I need to..."

Cameron trails off as he eyes one of the screens, showing a scan of the tiny speck that is the remaining Eye. It is barely there, but something has stopped it from closing entirely.

"What is that?"

Cameron zooms in, and then zooms in again. He can clearly make out two massive power sources, although one is guttering like a dying candle. As he watches, there is a surge, and the only one power source remains. This one is twice as large as either of the other two were previously. Cameron closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind. The future version of Mary does not move, but the original version steps forward, a worried expression crossing her face.

"Cameron, what-"

Cameron suddenly recoils as if he was slapped. His eyes fly open, burning with elemental fire.

"Peterson."

When Cameron stands, the limp and any signs of weariness are gone. He marches to the current Mary, his damaged power armor screeching in protest. He pulls a large blue crystal from one of his pouches and presses it into Mary's hands so forcefully that she almost drops it.

"Take this. Get it back to Cellaris V."

Mary stares at Cameron, and then stares at the object in her hands.

"This... this is the Source. Where did you find this?"

Mary has barely finished speaking this question when her own voice rings out from behind her. The future Mary's words carry a hard edge behind them.

"Cameron. Remember. You promised."

Cameron stares at the future version of his friend, the only reason he is even still alive at this point, for a long moment. It is absolutely clear that both of them know exactly where this is going. Cameron is the first to break eye contact, closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly.

"I'm sorry."

The current Mary looks from her future self back to Cameron.

"Promised what? Sorry for what?"

Cameron turns his back to them both and barks a single command.

"Transport."

There is a blinding blue flash, and both versions of Mary vanish. Cameron sighs audibly and makes his way back to the command chair. As he sits, he is already speaking additional commands to the starship's computer.

"Engage engines. Raise all warp shields. Disengage all safety protocols. Give me full manual control."

A set of transparent hard light pilot controls appear in front of Cameron, and he twists the throttle all the way open. The Starblade MKII shudders as the engines roar to life.



Both Mary and her future self appear on the bridge of the Imperial warship Revenant, surprising the already frazzled flight crew and the commander of the Imperial fleet, Admiral Benden.

"By the Primarchs! Where did the two of you come from? Where's Lord Aileron?"

The future Mary gestures out of the warship's massive viewport at a much smaller ship in the distance. It has engaged all of its engines and is burning towards the remnants of the Eye.

"Right there."

Benden and the rest of the Imperial crew, along with the current Mary, can only watch in horror as the Starblade MKII plunges into the Eye of Terror seconds before it finally finishes collapsing and winks out of existance. Benden is the first to speak.

"But why? Why would he do that? That's suicide!"

The future Mary seems nonplussed, though her past self can tell by the set of her jaw that she is hiding a barely repressed fury. She betrays none of this when she speaks.

"Don't worry. He'll be fine. If I were you, I would set a course for home."

Benden turns to face her, ready to protest, but then pauses and nods once. He turns to his crew.

"You heard her. We're done here. Radio the rest of the Fleet. We are disengaging."

One of the flight techs is looking worriedly at a panel in front of her.

"But Lord Benden, there's still combat happening. The Ork Krooza has been engaged by some massive power source and has opened fire!"

Before Benden has a chance to respond, the future Mary speaks up once again.

"The strike team has that well in hand. All you interfering will do is provide extra collateral damage."

The future Mary turns to a different flight tech nearby and holds out a hand.

"You. Data-pad. Now."

Cowed by the urgent and angry tone of her voice, the flight tech fumbles a bit before producing a small data pad. The current Mary can't help but notice that it looks like a much less worn version of the one her future self was looking at earlier. She confirms her current self's suspicions by walking over and handing the data pad to her.

"Now it is done. Take this. There's a lot to go over and we won't have much time to do it."

The current Mary reluctantly takes the data-pad, frowning.

"What promise did Cameron break?"

The future version of herself sighs heavily.

"He hasn't. Yet. But he will."

"How do you know that?"

The future Mary stares out of the viewport for a long moment, absentmindedly running the edge of Danyael's Everworld cloak in between two of her fingers.

"Because that's how time travel works. We can't change anything. We can only make sure that what has happened does happen. Now listen."

As the future version of Mary dictates and the current version hurriedly types notes, the Revenant slips into the Warp, followed by the rest of the Imperial Fleet.