A New Journey

The walls of Nuba gleamed in the light of the rising sun; a hard grey against the golden brown of the desert beyond. Travelers who had spent weeks and months traversing the harsh sea of sand welcomed the sight of those walls; it symbolised safety, reprieve and the end of a long, arduous journey.

Not that day.

For Revan and the one hundred and ninety other potential Aspirants for the Eleventh Legion, the walls of Nuba was the symbol of everything they would leave behind. Their homes, their families, friends, safety and comfort. They would take the long trek across the desert, making for the assigned destination, from which they would be taken to the camps set up to begin their new life.

If they lived.

Revan stood with boys of the same age or older. Some had come from affluent backgrounds, like him. Others had come from harsher circumstances. They were as lean as he was, but many times meaner, their eyes hard and flinty. Dangerous, even.

At the roll call several hours earlier, every boy had been issued a rucksack containing a knife, water and food meant to last a week. The journey would take significantly longer. Revan had understood, young as he was, that the test had already begun. He would have no one to depend on out in the desert. He would have to rely only on himself or die.

The very real prospect of his death scared Revan more than he had cared to admit. It was one thing, to stand before Hayreddin and Thorondor, Vukona and Te Rangi and be brave. Now he was all alone, despite the hundred other boys around him, and he was well and truly scared.

Revan and the other boys had been assembled outside of Nuba. They were to depart soon, and many of them were just as scared as Revan, others were grimly determined. All of them were staring up at the walls. There were people on there: some of the iterators, Admiral Jerod and Governor Kazan, nine Astartes from the Eleventh Legion's elite including Te Rangi, the Legion Master Mika Vukona and Hayreddin.

Perhaps it was arrogant of him to think so, but Revan thought that his Uncle's eyes were on him. He mastered his fear and stood straighter. Revan would not show fear in front of his beloved Uncle.

All eyes were drawn to the Primarch, but it was Vukona who spoke.

"All of you here today have agreed to cast off your old lives to be part of something greater. The road ahead of you is hard. It would break even the strongest of men, and you are but boys still. You must have courage, and unshakeable will. If any of you still harbour fear and doubt, if any of you no longer wish to do this, this is your last chance to walk away. None will judge you."

The Legion Master paused. None of the one hundred and ninety boys moved. If any of them had been close enough, they would see a hint of pride glimmering in Vukona's organic eye.

"You are boys no longer. Live or die, you are all men of the Imperium henceforth. Go! May the Emperor smile upon you!"

Vukona slammed his right fist to his heart, the old Imperial salute that dated back to the Unification War. The boys below returned the gesture. Then, they slowly walked away, turning their backs on Nuba and their old lives.

Revan was among the last to leave. He stood still as the other boys left. His eyes never left Hayreddin and his father and grandfather. When the bulk of the boys had already left, Revan stood tall and proud, knowing for certain that Hayreddin and his family could see him. Facing them, Revan gave the Unity salute, his fist clenched against his heart.

After a moment, his father, grandfather and Hayreddin returned the salute.

Pride and sorrow welled up in Revan. He did not know if he would ever see them again, but he was proud they got to see him like this. He hoped that he would see them again one day.

Hoisting his rucksack, Revan turned his back on Nuba and walked away.

II XI II XI

The marble walls of the tomb gleamed faintly in the firelight. The shadows danced in the light of the flickering flame like capricious spirits, but Hayreddin paid them no heed. He had seen the true spirits. His brown eyes never left the four alcoves at the end of the tomb. Three of the alcoves held sarcophagi containing the corpses of those he loved dearly. The fourth was empty, save for a rusty old sword.

"I think you would have loved all this, Ravenna," said Hayreddin softly. "You would have been at home with the Imperium. Pragmatic, hard but fair. Everything I'm not. The Imperium would have vindicated all your arguments against me in the past. How you would have gloated."

Silence was all the answer Hayreddin received.

"Jerod and Nisha got divorced. I know you would have been upset by that, Isan. You loved her; she was good for Jerod. Jerod wants to join the Great Crusade. He wants to join as an officer aboard the Imperial ships...that was one reason, but Revan leaving to become an Aspirant was too much for Nisha. She was furious with Jerod for leaving, but even more outraged for letting Revan go. She loved him too much."

Silence.

"I couldn't do anything. Would you have done things differently, Isan? Could you have stopped them from separating? Truthfully, I'm not sure if I did the right thing, letting Revan leave like that. He could be very well walking to his death. When Vukona explained to me why it had to be that way, I wanted to stop him, truly, I did. But Thorondor argued on Vukona's behalf…and I don't like it, but I understand it. But Revan...you would have been proud to see him. He showed no fear, even though he must have been so scared. He truly is of your blood, Isan, Ravenna."

Silence.

"I will be leaving soon. Just Thorondor and I. I think you all would have liked him. He is a true warrior, Ravenna. The kind you've always respected. But war isn't all he knows; you would have liked him too, Isan, he's courteous, learned...and the way he speaks about humanity as a whole...it's inspiring, you could hear his love for humanity in his voice."

Faint footsteps echoed in the tomb.

"Umm, Atta, it turns out I have nineteen other brothers out there: peerless warriors, kings and conqueror of worlds...I must seem like a disappointment by comparison. The man who created me...my father is an emperor...the Emperor."

The footsteps grew louder.

"But for all that...you are still my father, Atta. You may not have crossed the stars to save humanity...but you raised me and loved me. Both you and Umm. It was enough for me. You will always be my family. All of you."

The footsteps came to a halt just behind him. Hayreddin didn't even need to turn to know it was Thorondor. His brother's presence had become comfortingly familiar by now.

"It's almost time." Thorondor's voice was low, respectful.

"You came to get me yourself?"

"Your people seem to consider this place hallowed ground."

"It's not. They just avoid it out of respect for me."

Thorondor moved forward so that he was standing beside Hayreddin, who said nothing as the other Primarch took in the sarcophagi in the alcoves.

"Your family?" asked Thorondor.

Hayreddin nodded. He pointed at each alcove, naming its occupants. "Isan and Ravenna. They are Kazan's parents. They were initially my advisors when I began to change Nuba...they became my friends...and eventually they became brother and sister to me." Hayreddin pointed to the other two sarcophagi. "Barbarossa, everyone called him Babar, Anilia, everyone called her Ani. They are my parents."

Thorondor said nothing, but there was an odd look on his face. The Storm Lord suddenly took a step forward and knelt before the sarcophagi for a moment.

"I just wanted to pay my respects to the men and women who shaped you into the man you are," said Thorondor in answer to Hayreddin's questioning look when he was done. "They must have been very proud of you."

Hayreddin smiled. For a being as powerful as he was, Thorondor was unfailingly humble. It was charming. He wondered if it was a result of Thorondor's own upbringing. The Storm Lord had yet to share anything personal about himself.

"Did you have family? From before the Imperium found you?" asked Hayreddin. He regretted asking almost immediately.

Thorondor's eyes seemed to cloud over, and his smile became colder. A sudden chill fell in the tomb.

"Yes...I did," Thorondor's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. "But it no longer matters; the Storm Eagles, the other Primarchs, they are my family now."

Since the two Primarchs met, Thorondor had ever been gregarious. The Storm Lord was given to easy humour and effortless charm, yet Hayreddin had always sensed a deep melancholy behind his brother's ever-present smile. He sensed it more strongly now; Thorondor was not angry at Hayreddin's question. Rather, Hayreddin's question had touched some deep sorrow close to Thorondor's heart. Hayreddin chose not to press, respecting his brother's hidden anguish. If Thorondor wanted to share, he would.

"If you are finished here, we should finalise our preparations to leave," said Thorondor quietly.

Hayreddin nodded. He turned to the sarcophagi one last time, silently bidding goodbye. He then followed Thorondor out of the tomb.

The two Primarchs emerged at the foot of the mastaba located outside Nuba. The mighty edifice was located on a hill overlooking the city, providing a beautiful view. Hayreddin took it in: the gleaming walls of Nuba, the roofs of the many buildings, the towering form of the administrative palace, and the sapphire-blue sea shining beyond Hayreddin's Wall. He realised this could very well be the last time he'd ever see Nuba. It could be a very long time before he'd see his home again.

If he ever returned.

A sudden desire burned so strongly within Hayreddin then. It burned so fiercely that he knew he must act upon it or regret it forever.

"Thorondor," he called to the other Primarch, who halted and turned to him questioningly. "Could you one last thing for me, before we leave?"

II XI II XI

Garuda's wings rose and fell, the spicy, metallic musk of his feathers filling Hayreddin's nostrils as the wind roared in his ears. He clung tightly to Thorondor's broad back as the Storm Eagle rose higher and higher, circling above Nuba.

The city that had been his home for so long now looked like a child's toy from the sky. The administrative palace was no bigger than a coin, the market square no larger than a plate on a table and Hayreddin's Wall a mere strip of white across the bay. It was everything Hayreddin had ever loved, from the viewpoint of a god.

Hayreddin felt exhilarated, he felt powerful. He felt a surge of love, hot and fierce, for Nuba, for Baybar and all who called it home. He knew he would do anything to protect them all.

He realised this was likely how Thorondor felt for Tempestas. He realised this was how the Storm Lord felt for all Mankind. To love his species so unconditionally, to desire to raise them to ever greater heights, that was Thorondor, the other Primarchs and the Emperor aspired to do.

Hayreddin realised now the terrible, noble burden on all their shoulders. All it had taken was a change in vantage point.

"Thank you, Thorondor." Hayreddin didn't know if the Storm Lord could hear him over the rushing wind, but, unseen by him, Thorondor's smile had softened.

II XI II XI

The sun was dipping into the horizon, casting the last of the day's dying golden light. Revan and the other boys had marched on, determined to put as much as distance between themselves and Nuba. In the early stages of the march, they had all been in high spirits, chatting animatedly amongst themselves and singing songs. But as the day wore on, they had grown quiet, contemplating the days ahead. Death was a real risk when crossing the desert, even when using the road, and they were only boys. One of the older, grimmer boys had told Revan the desert crossing was a way to weed out the weak.

Revan had said nothing, but he knew it was true.

As the sun dipped lower, most of the boys had begun to stop to rest for the night, some pressed on, wanting to cover as much ground before nightfall.

Revan paused and looked back. He could still see Nuba, the city looking miniscule on the horizon, haloed by the light of the sunset. His grandfather would be going about his business as the newly appointed Planetary Governor. His mother would be there, likely still weeping. If there was anything that made Revan reconsider his journey, it was his mother.

Nisha had gotten into a terrible row with Jerod when she had found out about Revan's intentions. She had raged, she had wept and she had pleaded. It had taken all of Revan's willpower to stand firm in his decision. Even at their final farewell, Nisha had hugged him so tightly that he couldn't breathe. She had pleaded with Revan one last time, begging him not to go on the dangerous journey, begging him to stay with her.

Wrapped in her warm, loving arms, Revan had seriously reconsidered going. The thought of never seeing his family again, of never being in his mother's embrace again, had nearly made Revan give up. But in the end, he had dug deep, and stood firm.

And broke his mother's heart.

So, Revan stood in the desert, looking back at his home in the dying sunlight with over a hundred other boys seeking to make a new life.

Even as he watched, he saw burning pinpricks of light in the darkening sky. They reminded Revan of falling stars, only these were ascending. He knew those were likely Imperium ships, making their way back to the stars from whence they came. He wondered which of those rising stars was the ship carrying his father and Hayreddin to their new journey.

Revan pressed a clenched fist against his heart, a last private salute, and then turned away to continue his own journey.