Flesh on feet sizzled as men and women ran forth to adore the silver figure at the heart of the crater of sand turned to glass. Caressing hands ran across its body, the mercurial texture of the flesh bringing great awe to the cultists. Only the two shamans dared not step on the slag to approach the child. They could hardly see it behind all the fawning men and women upon it but even what little they saw had unprecedented potence that perhaps millions of even great minds as them couldn’t match. As much as an instinct within their brain told them to get on their knees in prayer, they knew this had to be handled carefully.

“O’ gift of the stars, we thank you, we thank the Fathers and Mothers of Sky and Earth for your sight!” Belsokh announced, his eyes skipping towards Ptraf for but a fraction of a second for affirmation.

“My Lord.” Ptraf began. “I hope our offerings were to your satisfaction. How may we serve you?” he said. 

“How may we serve our masters?” Belsokh quickly added, somewhat confused by what Ptraf was saying; he was not yet enlightened to what had occurred this day.

“Why are there dead before me.” The figure stated, its voice almost smothered by a tattooed hand running across his lips.

“My Lord, I apologize, we put as much devotion as we could before the sacrifices expired, we-” Belsokh began, before being interrupted by Ptraf.

“It was a necessity. Their lives were given eagerly.”

“But why?” he giant child asked.

“To bring you forth my Lord.” Ptraf replied.

The child looked quizzical for a moment, its skin then very slowly changing pigment and moving across its flesh before it almost perfectly mirrored the appearance of Ptraf; even the tattoos he could not see directly were derived from visions of the man reflected off of the coast’s waters.  

Not bothering to dislodge several of the people stuck to him, the child stepped forward and thus upon the stand to stand before the two magicians. It stared in the eyes of one, then the other.

“How did you summon me? I do not believe I was called. I saw the stars, the infinite nothing before I arrived upon this world. I saw the lights of your sister world. I believe my presence is an accident, elder. I do not think I am meant to be here. [i]Harmony in chaos, wisdom in the wild,[/i] I do not know what this means. I do not believe any of this is meant for me. I do not think these souls should have died.”

Belsokh looked astounded, and then very quickly enraged despite the fact the figure before him could clearly slay him. “Their lives were spent righteously! They died for a greater cause!” He screamed, unable to be silenced by the hasty waves of Ptraf.

“Sire, Sire, you were brought here by a greater will! Can you not see? I see now you are a being of wisdom, of logic, no? Surely you understand there are no accidents, no chance, that is true superstition before our truth. You can see we are here to serve, to bring truth!”

“Serve, then. Where may I find the greatest realm of this land. Do not say it is here beneath my feet. Who built that?” he pointed to the not too distant temple, made at least in part of materials far too complex for these tribals. “Our ancestors, my lord.” 

“Very well then. Who built that?” he pointed. What his finger was aimed at was unseen to all present, but Ptraf knew of what he spoke. “That is the Kingdom of Jhumal. Great are its armies and treasures, but it is not the greatest realm.”

“What is the greatest?”

With a sigh, and a look of defeat followed by one of scorn towards Belsokh, Ptraf sagged his shoulders and spoke. “I will tell it to you my Lord, but only if you make a small promise.

“What?”

“When you are downtrodden, when you are lost, and unsure of this world and life. Perhaps now, perhaps years, perhaps decades or centuries from now, when such a time comes, you will seek me out and ask me to explain why this is, and then you will listen.”

“I agree to this. When my existence is dim, I will ask you for light.”

“Very well. Up the Coast, to the East. Seek the great walls with great helms bearing galeas as towers, there you will find the realm of Ummaria, it is perhaps the greatest realm upon this planet.”

“Thank you.” With that, the creature reverted to its silvery form and walked off in the direction of this Ummaria. 

“I see now, Ptraf. You aim to make this imposter perish in the deserts without slaying our own. Wise.” he said, as the child trodded well past the vanishing point of their vision. 

Ptraf shook his head but said nothing. One day, one day he would redeem himself for the failures of this day.


[hr]
Days later, after trodding far through the desiccated land the child brushed off the dead worshippers who had gladly died of thirst upon him. Washing himself of their residues in the salty waters, the child then looked up and saw the crest of a galea in the distance. There, his destination.

As he approached the walls, many a horn blared. He looked up, hearing the twisting of windlasses long before the ballista bolt missed him. He looked upon it, fingers tracing the painting along the fletching. Hundreds more followed. 

Unafraid, he continued towards the walls. Stones soon followed shattering earth and stone around him. Eventually he was close enough that the men within the towers and upon the walls could see the features of the primarch. 

“Please, do not fire upon me, I wish no harm!” the child bellowed, the voice carrying far further than any present could imagine. To their own surprise, all men present found themselves obeying.

“Now, please let me in. I wish to see your Sovereign.”

The child smiled as the gates opened for him. The day had just begun.