Chapter 15: Erebus — You Are the Devil
Strike first, and you seize the initiative.
Hesitate, and ruin follows.
Shaeluna had never imagined that a mortal could be like this.
The good news was that she still existed.
The bad news was that she very much wished she did not.
Her host body was bound upside down within a sanctum lined with crude statues of the God-Emperor. Chains bit into flesh. Sigils burned faintly along the walls, their purpose not holy, but anchoring.
Before her, three senior members of the Emperor's Cult took turns.
One preached.
One interrogated.
One screamed abuse with tireless creativity.
"You creatures of the warp always overcomplicate things," one priest snarled.
"Humanity is supreme. That is the Emperor's truth," another intoned.
"You think you're better than us?" the third spat. "Look at you now."
Noise. Endless, grinding noise.
Shaeluna had existed for centuries within the warp. She had tempted kings, broken saints, whispered entire civilizations into ruin.
She had never encountered this.
Every few minutes, the interrogators rotated. None stayed long enough to be tempted. None listened long enough to be corrupted. They vented their hatred, their faith, their contempt—and left.
Even when she tried to whisper pleasure, despair, longing—
They shouted over her.
They enjoyed shouting over her.
Outside the chamber, Erebus stood with his arms folded as Jalulek emerged, pale but steady.
"Anything?" Erebus asked calmly.
"No, lord. No whispers. No voices. Nothing."
Erebus nodded.
Kor Phaeron's psychic bindings were holding. Crude, but effective. The daemon's consciousness remained trapped, unable to slip back into the warp. The irony was not lost on Erebus—Kor Phaeron wielded the warp like a jailer who insisted he was innocent.
Erebus turned.
"Lorgar," he said mildly. "Would you like to conduct the next interrogation yourself?"
Lorgar hesitated.
Then nodded.
Before entering, Erebus leaned close to Jalulek and murmured a few quiet words.
Lorgar heard them anyway.
Even a Primarch felt a chill.
Inside the chamber, the priests withdrew at once.
Shaeluna lifted her head and bared her teeth.
"Erebus," she hissed. "I will drink your soul."
Erebus answered by striking her across the face.
The host body spasmed, a strangled sound escaping its throat.
"That tone," Erebus said, almost gently, "will not be used here."
"You will die," Shaeluna snarled. "All of you will. You meddle with destiny. You damn mankind."
Erebus sighed.
"It's only a possession," he said to Lorgar, as if explaining a simple mechanism. "Ordinarily, we would kill the host and banish the daemon."
He leaned closer.
"But there is a more educational method."
Shaeluna went still.
"To preserve the vessel," Erebus continued, "and deny the daemon release. No glory. No sensation. No return."
Her confidence fractured.
"Kill me if you dare," she spat.
"I don't need to," Erebus replied. "I only need to disappoint your master."
Silence.
Erebus smiled.
"Imagine," he went on, "being offered to the God-Emperor himself. Bound. Helpless. Studied."
Her defiance faltered.
"What… do you want?" she whispered.
Erebus did not answer her. He nudged Lorgar instead.
"Observe," he said softly. "Faith collapses faster than flesh."
Lorgar watched, unsettled.
"Your name," Erebus said at last.
"I will not give it," Shaeluna snapped. "Names are power."
"Very well," Erebus said easily. "We'll try something simpler."
He straightened.
"I will speak. You will repeat."
She laughed weakly. "Childish."
"I swear by the Emperor," Erebus said.
The oath burned.
"Speak."
"For—"
"For—" she echoed, compelled.
"For humanity."
"For humanity."
Erebus continued, calmly, methodically, each phrase layering meaning, allegiance, and recorded confession.
When it was done, Shaeluna stared at him.
"That's all?" she asked.
Erebus stepped back.
"Yes," he said. "You may go."
Confusion rippled through her.
Then Jalulek entered, carrying a bulky pict-recorder—primitive, heavy, unmistakably active.
The device replayed her words.
Edited. Framed. Irrefutable.
"For the Emperor's pleasure," the recording declared in her own voice.
"For humanity. For the Imperium."
Shaeluna screamed.
Erebus watched with quiet satisfaction.
"Release her," he said.
Kor Phaeron hesitated—then obeyed.
"No—wait!" she cried. "I serve the Lord of Excess! My name is Shaeluna! I will tell you everything!"
"I'm no longer listening," Erebus replied.
Jalulek stopped the recording.
"I'll send this," Erebus continued, "to your patron. True or false won't matter."
Tears streamed down the daemon's borrowed face.
"What do you want?" she begged.
Erebus met her gaze.
"I want you to believe."
Lorgar inhaled sharply.
Erebus turned the pict-recorder back on.
"Swear," he said, "to the Divine Emperor."
In that moment, Shaeluna understood.
This mortal was not a servant.
Not a priest.
Not even a monster.
He was something far worse.
And for the first time in her existence, a daemon of Slaanesh felt true fear.