Editing Exterminatus High (section)

==Chapter Five==

Morus was accompanied by everyone of sufficient rank in the Schola Progenium he could find on such short notice as he made his way to the visitor’s foyer: Sister Superior Angrel, Commissar Dahn, and Commissar Arick. Dahn and Angrel seemed to be in a bad mood, as if they were in the middle of something important when he contacted them. Morus really couldn’t care less. As the Arch-Confessor of the Klusus IV Progenium, he wielded significant power, yet all of his rank, prestige and personal confidence counted for nothing in the face of the Star Fangs.

He didn’t know why, and he wished they were not here, but they demanded he come to meet them. A group of Star Fangs Astartes had arrived without his knowledge, or the knowledge of any of the Schola’s guards, and were demanding his presence.

Demanding.

That wasn’t a word that often applied to the dealings of others with Morus, but he had encountered the Star Fangs before. When he emerged into the foyer where they waited, it was immediately apparent that his memories of them were perfectly accurate.

They were terrifying.

The room was darker than it normally was, and Morus had to appreciate the company of his senior teachers as he approached the waiting figure in the middle of the room, his face obscured by shadow that seemed out of place but was there nonetheless.

Dahn and Morus managed to conceal as the Space Marine approached, casting a shadow over their group. Angrel looked up at him in respectful awe, and Arick shifted a little.

It always staggered Morus whenever he saw a Space Marine this close. The superhuman was far broader than any man Morus had ever seen (in his time in the Guard he had seen some big men), and must have been nine feet tall. Even for an Astartes, Morus reckoned he was large. However, that was not what disturbed him about this particular Marine.

It was the shadows. The Marine’s face was still concealed, despite his wearing only a hood. There was too much light for the room to be full of shadows, yet all Morus could see was a large, impassive mouth: the rest of the ‘man’s’ face was hidden. The armour was also odd. It was black, blacker than black, and it did not shine at all in the sparse light. It was just a black mass. Morus got the feeling that if the room was darker, the Marine would be very hard to see at all.

Morus spoke first. “Welcome to the Klysus IV Schola Progena, how can a fellow Imperial servant assist you?” 
The Space Marine made no move to remove his hood.
“We are looking for Malus.” Morus gulped.
“I-well, I don’t know who that is.”
“Bring us Malus.” Morus grimaced, and his palms began to sweat profusely. This Space Marine was certainly a Librarian, and could sense his lies. Morus recalled everything he had been taught recently to block the Psyker’s probing, and responded once more:
“My answer remains the same, my Lord Marine.” The Star Fangs Librarian’s mouth pursed, and Morus felt a shiver make its way down his spine.
“I am Librarian Kurze. Named after our blessed Primarch.”. Kurze was obviously baiting the fiercely fanatical group accompanying Morus.
Dahn could not contain himself: “The Haunter was a traitor to the Imperium and the Emperor, and his soul is burning in eternal damnation, as he deserves!” Angrel’s hand, twitched towards Dahn’s, and Kurze’s mouth jerked as if he was trying to refrain from smiling. 
“My Brothers and I will be conducting an investigation throughout the Schola. Do not impede us.”
“Your brothers?”

Morus reacted with a mild but sharp intake of breath as four more Astartes emerged from different corners of the room. They were massive, and all wreathed in shadow just like Kurze. And they had been standing silently in this not-so-well lit room the whole time without any of the four humans noticing. Not a little offput by the abilities of these Marines to hide in plain sight despite their fully-armoured bulk, Morus spoke unsurely:
“Well…you have all my resources at your disposal. But I will have to alert the Schola to your continuing presence.” Kurze’s mouth did that bizarre twitch again, as if he was once more trying to hide amusement.
“Do so. And do not discourage the use of the colloquialism you humans have applied to us.”
“Which would be?”
The four shadowy Astartes moved to flank Kruze. The effect was disturbing, as shadows wreathed the group and the dull white eyes of the Astartes helmets flashed like lightning on a dark night. Morus also found the silence with which these warmachines could walk surprising.
“The ‘Scary Marines’.”

Leaving the chamber and allowing the five Star Fangs free passage through the entire school, Morus breathed a sigh of relief to be out of their presence.
“I’m a veteran in the war against Chaos and have killed both men and monsters with knives and guns, but I will be honest: these...beings terrify me. Morus’ words seemed to surprise Angrel:
“What? I thought they were magnificent. The fear they invoked in myself must be doubled in the hearts of those who are enemies of the Emperor! They are divine instruments of his merciless retribution!” Morus turned to Arick and Dahn:
“Thoughts?” Dahn responded first:
“They disturb me, and I will not be satisfied until they leave the Schola.” Morus could not help but nod.
“Arick?” The other Commissar seemed lost in his thoughts, and snapped to attention as Morus’ words cut into his reverie.
“How did they do that thing with the shadows?”

Nayren, Zane, Mathew and Sulam had never seen a Star Fang before, and their first encounter with one would stay with them forever. 
They were currently in their sleeping quarters, just the four of them. The sleeping quarters was quite large, but everybody else was busy milling around in excitement. Night had fallen and it was both raining and storming outside. The lights were on.
“Everyone’s going mad, but I haven’t even seen them yet.” complained Nayren.
“I wonder if they’re really as ‘scary’”-Mathew mouthed “oooooooooooh” and twinkled his fingers in mockery, “-as everyone else says”. Zane obviously took the stories of their fearsome demeanour as a challenge. Sulam was silent, for once.
“Well, if they’re wandering around the school I’m sure we’ll see the-“
The lights went out.
“What in the Empero-“
A flash of lightning lit up the room, and Nayren and Sulam both saw the distinctive shape of a massive, power-armoured warrior in the hallway. When the darkness fell once more, a pair of white eyes remained briefly, and then disappeared. Nayren yelled in surprise.
“What!?” Zane asked.
“I-I saw…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
The lights came back on. Sulam was very pale.


Morus paced back and forth behind his desk, hands fidgeting with his mixed military and religious uniform, as he tried to decide his next move. Librarian Kurze and his four Star Fangs had already made their subtle presence felt at the school, terrifying students who swore these massive armoured monsters were there one second and gone the next. This, however, was the least of Morus’ problems. Kurze had made himself clear:

He knew about Malus.

Morus began to sweat as he considered summoning Malus. Kurze would find his warp-presence eventually, and then Malus would have no choice but to manifest in self defence. Many people would die.

The Arch-Confessor did not consider himself a heretic. He did the bidding of Malus in the hope of someday destroying him, and also in the (vain?) hope that he could minimize the damage Malus was capable of doing. Morus struggled with his alliance every day. Ecclesiarchal dogma and old Terran philosophy was clear on the matter: the road to evil is paved with good intentions.

If only he could find out whom Malus’ vessel was, there would be no need for this…

Morus pulled a talisman from a concealed section under his desk, the same altered Pointed-Star of Chaos that Cyrene had seen in her dreams after the scrumball game. It was warm to the touch, and gave off a slight glow that, oddly enough, actually seemed to darken the air around it. Speaking in an ancient Chaos dialect, the Arch-Confessor spoke the words that would summon Malus’ presence:
“Malus, servant of the fifth power, Chaos manifest and destroyer combined, your servant summons your warp-spirit to the world of the flesh.”
The room darkened, and Morus felt the familiar emotion that accompanied the presence of Malus: melancholy. The summoning was nothing visually spectacular, but the presence of something supernatural weighed heavily on the priest’s mind.
“The Star Fangs are here. They are trying to find you.”
Malus did not respond right away, but Morus could acutely feel what passed for emotions in such a powerful warp-entity. It seemed the otherworldly being was capable of fear. Morus could not help but gleam some satisfaction from the thought, which Malus sensed in turn. The voice of the daemon itself, however, betrayed no human emotion:
“I may feel fear, human, but know that I do not fear you. Nor do I fear the powers of my brothers, the Star Fangs and their Librarian. I curse their power. I am eternal, they have made me this.” Arch-Confessor Morus felt the presence of the daemon shift in his mind, as if the thing was uncomfortable with its own words.
“I fear for my host. He is weak in both flesh and mind. You know this. I am all that was strong in him, but without him, neither of us can be what we should be. He must be protected.” Morus nodded.
“Remember, Confessor-“, the daemon let some amusement creep into its voice as it said that word, “-I can possess my host at any time at an acceptable cost. You know well that even without full control, I am still Malus. I am destruction. My powers are not that of death and decay drawn from Nurgle, but are of Chaos itself. All the corpse-god oriented faith I sense in this entire Schola will amount for nothing, and if you fail me and force me to manifest prematurely, you will suffer. This school will suffer. The planet will suffer.” Morus’ jaw shifted, and he felt sweat drench his brow. But he remained resolute:
“If I fail and you are forced to manifest unprepared, you are vulnerable to Kurze and his Astartes. You will achieve nothing with threats, forfeiting my life is a sacrifice I would be willing to take to see you destroyed. Remember our pact, and only then I will serve you.”
The darkness in the room seemed to slightly recede at his defiance. While Malus had to be summoned, he could leave at any given time. Still, despite Morus’ intractability, the daemon’s voice was inscrutable as it spoke once more:
“I will have no choice but to uphold the pact if you serve me faithfully. Keep my sacrifice safe.” 

Morus took an intake of breath as he considered concealing his latest discovery regarding the…’sacrifice’. However, the life of one person was not worth the deaths of countless others:
“Regarding your sacrifice- I have noticed that he has developed an attraction to another student here, a Sororitas cadet. A friend of the woman whom you granted that vision.”
“’Granting’ that woman a vision was necessary. While a mortal without the foresight may find this amusing, I saw that my sacrifice would be endangered if the…’game’ they played continued. It was the only was I could distract her. As for the woman who is growing close to my sacrifice, kill her. I already see that she will interfere.”
“Kill her!? I refuse.”
“You will do it.”
“I will not murder a loyal servant of the Emperor…”
“I already see that you will. You know what will happen if you break the pact.”

Try as he might, Morus could not help but shed a tear for a loyal servant of the Emperor. The girl must die so that more may live.
“V…very well. I will arrange an accident.”
“Good. If you do not, the 977 Uprising will happen all over again.” Morus’ lips quivered.
“It will be done.”
The Arch-Confessor felt the daemon’s presence leave the room. All options had been exhausted- if he killed Malus’ host, the daemon would possess the corpse in response. Damn that bond…

Morus silently renewed the oath he had sworn so long ago: the Star Fangs would pay for their sins.

An hour later, Kyandra was conversing with Cyrene, who had seemed distracted of late. Cyrene could remember nothing of her visit with the Arch-Confessor regarding her vision, and it frustrated her greatly.
“Perhaps I should take the Oath of the Penitent!”, Cyrene stated with no small amount of passion. Kyandra immediately rejected the idea:
“If the Emperor wishes you to know something, he will grant you another vision. It is not your failure that you have forgotten. Whatever you told Confessor Morus, I’m sure he knew the meaning.” Cyrene seemed anything but convinced:
“I no longer trust Morus.”
“Why?”
“I do not know why. Perhaps the Emperor will tell me.”
As Kyandra was about to respond, a message appeared on her Ecclesiarchal Personal Data Assistant, used for everything from recording class notes to prayers to the Emperor. Cyrene frowned, and as she read the message, Kyandra’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What is it?”
“N-nothing. I have to go.”
Cyrene glared as Kyandra left the room in a hurry.

Nayren wanted to see her in the disposal chambers. What could he want, and why would he want to meet here there?

Nayren, however, was completely unaware of this requested meeting.