Here you go, it was 1:43am yesterday when I posted the first part, so I was right when I said the next part would be here tomorrow! Originally I was going to conclude the story with part two. But I want to make something of the last part, and you can all do with a bit of suspense
Hope you enjoy it!
Valeorus dropped back down into the normal aspect of the world, the colours and the howling winds washing away as quickly as they had appeared, though the aftertaste lingered. Despite the serene atmosphere of the environment, the mark of battle was deep and may remain forever.
He’d followed his Psy sense to a stone entrance of the ruin, an eroded mouth breaking from the ground to lead into the darkness of the throat below. Instinctively he moved his influence over the stone, caressing and searching with the most delicate of touches. He almost recoiled as he brushed against something most foul; a deep hunger, insatiable and threatening to consume him and the entire universe in an instant. He closed off his probing mind and moved silently into the descending staircase, his footfalls not disturbing a pebble as he walked with eerie grace.
The gliding wards cast a cold ghost light over the stone walls, before long the steps began to spiral in their fall. He briefly thought about how the coming task might fare different had he brought companions; No, none of his people deserved to be asked to do what he needed to do, should they fall... Valeorus tilted his head down slightly in anguish; the result didn’t bear thinking about.
Time became meaningless; he could have been walking for hours, minutes. He’d spent months in preparation for this, ever since he’d first caught a glimpse of this strand of fate, this pathway of the future, he was as ready as he could ever be. Almost subconsciously he began testing his surroundings with his mind, probing and tasting the area. The tang of war had slipped away, merely a familiar smell at this depth. Though that which was replacing it was far more twisted, pure anguish emanated from below shadowed by a sick and perverse pleasure; an outside source elating greatly in the suffering. The very earth beneath him was trying to twist itself free from the sick abomination on reality.
His mental barriers flashed up as a deep, booming laughter echoed up the stairs, whether in his mind, or through his ears, he could not tell. The laughter seemed to resonate back along itself, overlapping again and again and picking up pitch until a thousand mocking cackles screeched from the walls. The numbing note of perverse pleasure throbbed through the stonework once more; Valeorus fought away a shudder of disgust and forced away the sardonic hysterics until eventually they died into nothing more than a whispery remainder. Though more than once he thought he could sense a slight snicker, so quiet he had to question whether or not it was his imagination.
The feeling of utter wrongness became so strong he didn’t need to extend any psychic influence; it welled up in his stomach in a repulsive affront to nature. He could feel... Desires. Not his own, but outside his mind, trying to force their way in. Lust, hunger, spurts of euphoria and even grating stings of pain. A lesser mind would have caved under the pressure, succumbing to every external whim and losing its sanity in the process. The Farseer tapped into his own energy reserves and pushed away the tainted influence, freeing his thoughts from the depraved chatter.
The stairway eventually ended, rather abruptly, leading straight to a huge set of wooden doors; ancient, though the waft of oak was still on them. The metal handles of the doors twisted and writhed as Valeorus approached, shivering ecstatically in anticipation, they curled themselves into the pronged circle symbol of the Prince of Excess before snaking away to dance across the wood. The Farseer tilted his staff forward, blowing the doors from their hinges with enough force to shatter steel. The metal buckles shrieked as they were torn asunder and the timber exploded into a shower of splinters. Though before they could hit the ground they slowed and froze in the air, trapped in some gravity defying stasis. Valeorus brushed his way past the fragments, causing them to spin before slowing to a halt once more. He was assaulted by another wash of emotions and chattering laughter, though they fell deadly silent before he could make his own effort to remove them.
A ripple of warp force blasted from the centre of the dark, cold room. The Psyker shielded himself with the staff from the roiling energy. Along the walls the stone twisted and distorted under the power, the splinters behind him each exploded in a flash of colour. Faintly at first, but quickly gaining in intensity, a peculiar shimmering circle burned from the floor, black lighting crackled from its surface to scour the walls and floor, carving deep molten scars along the stone. The dark energy lashed out towards the Farseer, but was denied the sweet prize of his body by a radiant dome of light. A handful of the orbiting wards shrivelled under the attack, desiccating and fallen to the floor in dark husks before fading from sight.
Valeorus grasped his staff in both hands as the circle began to fall away into the floor, coruscating power beginning to crackle along its length. His mind took on a strange blanket of calm as he prepared to face this atrocity, the very anathema of their entire race.