A psyker... What is a psyker? What makes a psyker? Why do they exist? Why do they draw their power from the warp??? Why do they so easily fall to corruption? How… could they bend the knee to such evil… when they have the God emperor… As brilliant as their gifts are scary… they make wonderful weapons for the imperium… but alas they also hinder it!
Though they are brilliantly strong, so much so that some can be similar to the Primarchs of old, but that is also their greatest weakness that can doom whole worlds! Legends say that even our God emperor himself was forged by a group of psyker… such folly to be sure... But still an interesting train of thought… one that may have its merits… but I digress… it matters not how they came to be or what made them, though I sure someone knows, maybe someone deep in the imperium… but as for me it does not matter…
What does matter to me is how we can protect them from falling! For it sickens me that every time one of our brothers or sisters uses their powers… they hear them… their whispers or loud voices… with each successful call that comes through we lose a brother… a sister… brought down by the hammer of man! Such sacrifices are said to be unavoidable… I disagree! There must be a way to safely take from the warp! To cross it even without a lighthouse! Just like how the warp can take from us! We should be able to take from it!
→→→→→→→→→→→→→ log number unknown… found in the Librium archives…. Under name Gideon Ravenor
As the beautiful rose petals fell one by one. They gently landed in puddles of blood, formed from a mixture of all kinds of flowers, from all different walks of life… but while they soaked up those precious memories locked within those bloody pools, their fluorescent red color glowed harmoniously with the light of the moon. But while the midnight wind carried their souls throughout the jungle night, their fellow flowers did not weep for those that wilted… For those who were crushed… or those who were lost…
For they still had to stand to a foe much bigger than them… to a foe who loves nothing more but to devour young flowers… to destroy them and their hopes. Through hardened steel they stood their ground! Through hardened steel their thorns tore away the flesh of their foes!
As the praying roses danced to the sounds of their foes' screams, cheering as the blood rained nourished their bodies, with fierce faces the roses stood for every inch of ground! Even through the claws that claimed them, the teeth that ate them, the burning of the mind that wilted them, they remained! As the church carols played their tunes for every inch of the jungle, there was one rose… one little rose, who held her chiming thorns ready… as a ferocious hound sent by the devil himself charged ready to squander her little efforts!
But as that flower watched… and waited… while the winds blew across it leaves… it took a deep breather… with mind at peace, the flower pushed away everything from its mind… it let go of its fears… its worries… While praying to its sun for strength, the little flower stared bravely down the jungle trees at the face of the monster that wished to kill it! The flower knew she was weak… she knew she didn't stand a chance… she knew she didn't share the same feeling of exhilaration as her sister flowers did… but that didn't matter now…
For as the bushes swayed, the sound of gun fire in the back, the noises of the yelling, to the backdrop of explosion, to the reverberation of metal on metal… all left her mind… for as she gripped her thorny blade tightly in her small precious hands… she waited… she waited as the hound tore down trees, crushed other flowers in its way. She watched as the light of the moon switched places. She watched, as half of the hell spawns' body was coated in shadow… one half glowing red from its scales, the other dark as its souls, with glowing orange eyes it hated the sight of the flower… it hated the flower's will to stand... It hated the flower for its boldness to stay and not run… to deny it the pleasure of the chase…
For though the toxic fumes escaped from its mouth, its demonic voice failed to wilt the flower… annoyed that its foe would not cower before him! The beast jumped at the little flower! But while the beast came down with its sharp teeth. The flower, who found solace in her peace. Closed her eyes one final time… for in that micro of a second, she felt one small glowing of warmth hidden the depth of her DNA…
A spark… a gentle loving spark… a spark she felt that connected her to something… something she felt was good… but did not know it… she only knew that it was good… allowing that spark to fill her arms, she pressed them forward to a world that believed her dead! When the flower opened them again… her eyes… Her beautiful blue eyes… eyes that shined like sapphire! She realized her thorns were broken in two!
But while her hair... Her golden blonde hair… floating down her back… she touched the burning fire blood that rested on her chest! For as she turned, she saw the impossible made possible! For the monster that could kill with its very presence, to any normal person was laying there on the floor with a gouging chest filled with flowing blood!
As the beast laid there with shocking eyes of the realization that something happened beyond its tiny mind understanding. But while it coughed out the gurgling blood that came from deep within his own body, the monster's eyes never lost their furry! For as it stared at the broken collar of his beloved master on the jungle floor, the broken and beaten hound tried to wrest itself off the floor, only to be swarmed by other flowerss… to be devoured by the flowers... The same flowers that it so easily slaughtered by the dozens...
Annoyed and saddened that his soul will now return to his master in failure… in defeat… Pained its little heart… as its eyes closed one final time… it swore to itself that in its next life it will hunt this one down… this one that did the impossible! For all eternity and beyond! Though time and places may try to stop it… it will never let go of his hatred for this one flower! For it will always remember this flower's sweet scent, for now and forever! Its image burned everlasting in its mind, while her voice locked perpetually in its ears! As his life was taken by the sword, it pleaded to his God for one final chance… not to live for living shake… mind you… not for revenge either… but for one more single chance at the chase!
As Layla stood there in shock of what she just did, not knowing how she did it… the psyker watching from the distance knew what he felt… for it was a long lost familiar feeling… barely recognizable from his long life… for his mind and body were now just a shell of what it once was, as it was now in the demon he worships hands… In Tzeentch hands!