Search the Community

JOURNAL OF ELIAS RENN (Recovered fragment. Original medium: bound paper journal, water- and ash-damaged.) Entry I: I write this as I walk. The road south cuts through the hills like a scar. I have followed it since dawn, though I no longer remember leaving the last town. Only the smoke remains clear in my mind—black and greasy, climbing into the sky like a signal flare for something vast and patient. They came without warning. No herald, no parley. The bells rang once before falling silent. Green armor moved through the square: huge, methodical shapes untouched by panic. Bolters did not roar; they punctuated. Each shot felt like the end of a sentence. I was spared only because I was already gone. That is my purpose, after all. Messenger. Runner. Fool who believes words can outrun fire. Entry II: The people of Varn’s Crossing listened. They nodded. They mad the sign of the Aquila when I spoke of Space Marines. But I saw the doubt in their eyes. Everyone knows His Angels do not descend for nothing. Everyone knows if they burn a place, it must have deserved it. I slept in the stable. I dreamed of armored boots grinding grain to dust. Tomorrow I try again. Entry III: They are burning in a line. That is what terrifies me most. It is not random. It is not wrath. Towns fall one by one, each nearer than the last, as though already marked. As though plotted on a map I cannot see. Today I heard of a village to the east—no survivors, no bodies whole enough to bury. Only ash and the sharp chemical sting that clawed at the eyes. I am beginning to wonder whether I am fleeing them… or leading them. Entry IV: I have started counting days since I left home. My wife’s face comes to me at night, stern and tired, as if she knows something I do not. My daughter laughs in my dreams, holding up her hands, asking if I have brought her something. Emperor forgive me. I did. Entry V: The thought arrived uninvited and now refuses to leave. What do I carry that others do not? No relics. No forbidden texts. No augmetics. I am no heretic. I pray. I tithe. I obey. Yet I remember the pilgrimage. The long road. The nameless guide. The hidden path. The quiet grove, untouched, impossibly green, impossibly old. An Aeldari world, though I did not know the word then. Only that it felt ancient. The vial was small. Clear glass. Clear liquid. Harmless, I thought. A gift. Entry VI: I went home. I do not know why I believed I could outrun them and still return. Perhaps I thought love would make me invisible. She was asleep when I entered. Curled on her side, breath slow, one hand open on the blanket. The vial sat on the table near the bed. She had placed it there carefully, upright, like a votive. I had not told her what it was. I had called it a blessing. I understood then. Not all at once. Enough. I lifted it and felt the cold through the glass. The liquid shifted, slow and deliberate, as if aware of being moved. My fingers shook. I waited for the sound of glass on wood, for her to stir. She did not. I stood there longer than was safe, listening to them breathe. I tried to memorize the sound. I failed. In the washroom I hesitated. Stupidly. As if hesitation mattered. I thought of the culvert, the fields, the river beyond town. All the places where water is allowed to disappear. Then I looked back at the bed. I chose. I poured it down the drain. It did not splash. It slid away, smooth and obedient, leaving the sink clean. The pipes did not protest. There was no smell, except something faint and familiar. Rain. I ran water after it. More than necessary. I told myself it was gone. I told myself this was what saving them looked like. I left before dawn and took a room at the inn where I could see the road and still see the house. I told myself distance was protection. I told myself I was clever. Entry VII: I took a room at the inn facing the road. From the window I could see my house. The roofline. The place where the gutter sagged. The bedroom window where the light caught in the morning and woke them before I did. I stood in plain sight. I wanted them to see me. I thought that mattered. I believed I had outsmarted them. They came midmorning. Not charging. Not hunting. A procession. White and green moving with the patience of men who know there is nowhere left to go. I waited for the moment when one of them would look up and raise a weapon. The one in white stopped instead. He carried a hand-scanner. He raised it and let it hum, slow and thoughtful, as if tasting the air. His helm turned toward the inn. Toward me. For a moment I was certain this was it. Then he lowered the device. He pointed. Not at me. At my house. The scanner moved again. He gestured to the next structure. Then the next. Calm. Precise. I could not hear the words, but I did not need them. The drain. The pipes. The way the liquid slid away so easily. I understood then what I had done. Not escaped. Not hidden. I had spread it. I had carried it into the walls. Into the water. Into everything they would test and mark and cleanse. The white one did not look back. Four Marines stepped forward. Flamers were raised with practiced indifference. No hesitation. No announcement. Fire does not need permission. I remained at the window. No one escapes the pyre. (No further journal entries.) EXTRACT: ADEPTUS ADMINISTRATUM SUB-SECTOR CLEANSING RECORD REF: GT-CX/XENOS-19-THREE CLEARANCE: MAGENTA DISTRIBUTION: RESTRICTED Subject: Civilian Settlement Contamination Event Location: Designate Three of Nineteen, Minoris Surface Habitation Tithe: Adeptus Non Responsible Authority: Green Templars Crusade Detachment, Blade Authority Confirmed Summary: On [REDACTED], auspex confirmation detected non-Imperial particulate contamination within a surface settlement designate Three of Nineteen. Contaminant exhibited self-propagating properties consistent with xenos-derived catalytic agents. Vector determined to be civilian transport from quarantined orbital structure. Assessment: Contamination classified as Class Absolutum. Spread confirmed via domestic water systems and substructure piping. Probability of civilian survival without full sterilization assessed at 0.0003%. Action Taken: In accordance with Crusade Purity Statutes and Codex Exactorum, Section XII, Sub-Clause Pyre, the following measures were enacted: • Full incineration of all affected hab structures • Termination of all civilian biological presence • Secondary purification burn to ensure null residuals • No recovery of remains deemed necessary Notable Observations: One civilian male observed at off-site lodging during initiation of cleansing protocols. Apothecarion scan registered no significant contamination at subject’s location at time of assessment. Subject classified as non-priority. No deviation from operational objectives recorded. Casualties: • Carriers: Total • Adeptus Astartes: None • Material Loss: Negligible Conclusion: Cleansing successful. Contamination eradicated. No relics, substances, or anomalous materials recovered of note. Final Disposition: Incident closed. Further inquiry unwarranted. The Emperor Protects.