Dawn comes

This story is part of the community effort on the Emperor's Nightmare chapter.

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Brother-Captain Calarian's world flared as he impacted the reinforced ceramite wall under the sorcerous barrage. He could still hear the heretic chuckling softly as he walked leisurely towards him – he could hear so many things now. Each drop of rain in the pounding storm, the individual cracks forming in the stone with each blast echoing around the two warriors. So many things. His senses were sharpening, overcompensating – the world coming into sharper focus even as his mind slowly, relentlessly cracked. Calarian's time was near, be it at the hands of the enemy or by his own actions.

The flashing lights in his eyes resolved into a tiny glow on the horizon, through a slight break in the storm. Calarian allowed himself a small smile as he whispered the order for his brothers to retreat over the vox-link. They had lingered long enough, and he would remain to ensure their final objective would be completed. The sounds of battle faded as the warriors of Battlegroup Secundus, the Dusk, disengaged. He could imagine them melting away from the enemy under cover of sniper fire, leaving them scattered and unprepared for what was to come. It was a small comfort as the sorcerer loomed over him, before driving the end of his staff deep into the fallen Nightmare's chest.

Calarian spat up blood, fighting off the pain. His thoughts, quickening by the second, flashed back to before the deployment – to his death. Shortly before the operation was to begin, Calarian was approached by his company's Apothecary. He had already known why; he had been keeping count of when last he had truly been able to sleep, and it had been a long time. Experienced as he was, Calarian knew the signs of a Brother joining the Sleepless, and he was prepared. He had already decided that this mission would be his last, before his reason was lost.

As was customary for those Marines forever unable to sleep, funeral rites were held, as Calarian's name was added to the ranks of the honored dead. He had attended, taking the one final chance at rest, his blindfold allowing him some measure of solace. At the height of the service, as per the ritual, he had stood alongside the Chaplain and cut the delicate weave of his Dreamcatcher. Emperor help him, he could still feel the slight resistance as the blade severed the cords he had woven a century ago. Officially, it was his last act as a member of the Emperor's Nightmare – just as recruits leave their humanity behind, so do the Sleepless leave their dreams. Their brotherhood. Calarian had boarded the Thunderhawk immediately afterward, to undertake his last task as a Captain, one he did not plan on returning from.

A jolt of pain brought Calarian back to the moment as the Thousand Sons sorcerer pressed an armored foot into his cracked breastplate. He was sneering, Calarian could tell, even behind the blasphemous mask.

“Well, now...is this all you are capable of, dog? To struggle and die, doomed to die alone and tormented?”

Calarian laughed. Quietly at first, but gaining in what volume was possible with his shattered body. Meeting the heretic's gaze, he responded, “Tormented? I welcome this last rest. You, though...you will surely be tortured by your lord for your failures. Isn't that how it goes for you deluded madmen?”

The sorcerer angrily ground his foot further in, audibly snapping reinforced bones. “You know nothing. You speak as if you have not already lost, and underestimate my abilities. I will be rewarded well for this.”

Calarian merely laughed again, and, struggling to move, raised his hand to the sky.

The sorcerer felt the heat before he could even look. He whirled to see what Calarian indicated, and saw the shining meteors falling to the surface, the lances of fire piercing the storm, and the morning light burning through it all.

“Dawn comes, traitor. Dawn comes.”