Conqueror from the stars in Warhammer

Instead of a train, the guards led me into a sonic elevator that didn't ascend but plunged downward at incredible speed. It felt like we descended 200 floors before finally leveling out.

"The lower hive? Why are we going to this place?" I asked. It was unusual for a noble to venture into these regions, especially since most of it consisted of a labyrinthine industrial and semi-factory system.

"My apologies, sir. These were the Lady's orders," was all the guard replied as we descended further into the dark sector.

It was called the "dark sector" not because we were deep in the underworld of the hive but because we had taken a detour after the elevator stopped. We continued on a sizable train.

It was there that I finally saw my mother.

Her white hair contrasted sharply with her dark skin, and her bright red eyes—our genetic inheritance—pierced me with a predatory gaze that made me feel as if I stood before a hunter.

I had the sudden urge to have my sword or a laser pistol in hand, but I simply stood firm.

"Come in. We have much to discuss," was all she said as the guards parted. Instead of entering the same compartment with us as usual, they stayed back.

They left an entire carriage empty—just my mother and me.

*"Strange…"*

The nature of all this filled me with dread. I didn't know what to expect, but I was certain I wouldn't like it.

*"At least we're alone. Maybe I can handle this."*

The silence, however, was unnerving. It felt as if the first to speak would also be the first to die.

This only made me more apprehensive. Thankfully, she spoke first.

"What do you think of the lower sectors?" Eleonora asked, sounding almost bored.

"Large but not opulent," I replied without much thought. Even now, I could see enormous machines at work, massive, towering structures pouring molten metal to be shaped into colossal ingots.

People worked below, but I was too far away to make out their features, attire, or how they even survived the hellish heat.

"Yes, large and immense. These are the countless mining sectors. There are some factories, but they mostly produce mining equipment—a waste, I'd say, but that's the way things are."

She seemed entertained by the thought of production. Perhaps she was the one who managed the industry that kept our family wealthy.

Unfortunately, not everything was laid out for me. All I knew was that every family member was expected to take on a responsibility, though I didn't know mine—or anyone else's yet.

"Do you oversee this sector?" I asked.

"No, this is beneath us. We have hundreds of servants managing it. But I must admit, for some of our noble lineage, this is one of the best places to speak without being seen."

"Forgive me, but I don't understand."

She looked at me, and I felt something strange—like a small pebble striking my head. A faint pain made me turn toward her.

It was her. My eyes widened as I felt the pain again, this time stronger. I clenched my teeth as something struck me again.

*"Impossible!"* I shouted internally as blood trickled from my nose, a single drop falling onto my legs.

"Interesting... Tell me, how long have you been a mutant, my son?"

It was too late. She had figured it out, and I didn't know what to say. But I did know the fate mutants faced among the nobility—especially the elite.

Abandoning all pretense, I felt my eyes glow with the profane power of the Warp. I knew I was likely about to be killed, exiled, or face some other cruel fate.

*"I need to escape."*

Growling, I unleashed the electricity coursing through me into a single punch aimed at my own mother without hesitation.

My fist stopped.

Even as it crackled with energy, I couldn't move a single muscle. My entire body was paralyzed.

All this while my mother remained seated, unmoving. The furniture, the paintings around us, and the Victorian-era sculpture nearby—all untouched, as if time itself had stopped. Yet I was suspended in the air, completely immobile, as her gaze bore into me.

"You intended to kill me and escape to avoid death—or perhaps subdue me and negotiate," she commented, as though the idea of a son attempting to harm his mother was tiresome.

I unleashed my power again, attempting telekinesis, but it was futile. It felt as if invisible chains bound me in place.

"Perhaps your plan could have worked. But so far from any known place, deep in our family's territory, you still would have met your end."

I struggled to break free, feeling the emotional surge of panic amplifying my powers. Voices began to echo in my mind, but I forced myself to ignore them.

"Potential... Strength... and the will to do what must be done. I think you truly are worthy of being my son."

"Urgh… What?" I asked, exhausted. I couldn't maintain my strength much longer.

My mother, on the other hand, was smiling—seemingly pleased.

"Oh, you thought you were going to die. Don't worry. The Wimbledon family always keeps its assets close. And you, my boy, will be our newest apprentice."

"What?"

I didn't understand. Nothing made sense. A sharp ache pierced my mind, and darkness enveloped me.

Eleonora smiled in satisfaction as she levitated her son into her arms.

"Finally, an apprentice. It was worth the wait."

My eyes opened

I awoke to the pale glow of synthetic light in a wide, featureless room.

Lying amidst a tangle of sheets, I felt the cold bite of steel beneath my back. It didn't take long to notice the chains binding me to the floor.

I tried to summon my strength, reaching out to the Warp, but I felt weak—restrained, as though something was blocking me.

The distinct sound of footsteps echoed, followed by the hiss of doors opening. A familiar, unmistakable scent reached me—the imported perfume of some far-off agri-world.

"I see you're awake," came Eleonora's unmistakable voice.

Despite myself, I felt a pang of intimidation as I realized I wasn't on the floor but secured to a table of the same cold, dark gray as the room's flooring.

The table rose, lifting me upright while chains around my limbs kept me from falling.

"Mother, what is the meaning of this?" I asked, dropping all pretense of civility or decorum.

Her expression was carved from stone as she gazed at me.

*"She's going to kill me… or perhaps she's a Chaos cultist?"*

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Death was preferable to being captured by a cultist, let alone a sorcerer of the Ruinous Powers.

"Calm yourself. I won't hurt you, but your little display earlier made it clear what you're capable of."

I wouldn't deny it—the first thing I'd done was attack her. It hadn't been intended to kill but to weaken her enough for me to escape. Unfortunately, I'd been gravely mistaken about her power.

She wasn't just like me—she was far stronger.

"So, what happens to me now? Execution?"

"No. Not for now."

What followed wasn't the blood-soaked torture I'd imagined from a Chaos sorcerer. Instead, it was an intense interrogation, bolstered by the use of exotic psychic powers like telepathy.

She tried to enter my mind. I resisted, but slowly, my defenses crumbled. How long this went on, only the Emperor could say.

I felt blood trickle from my nose, my chest heaving for air as my head pounded like a hammer striking it repeatedly.

Her glowing eyes stared into mine as her fingers pressed against my forehead in contemplative silence. She was inside my mind.

"Shhhh… calm yourself. It's all right," she whispered, her tone meant to soothe, but I felt no comfort—only unease.

It was only after long hours, perhaps an entire day, that the ordeal ended.

The chains restraining me were undone, and I was given food. A hovering servo-skull attended me, equipped with pincers and syringes filled with unknown liquids.

I sat in silence for hours, regaining my strength and rebuilding my mental defenses as best I could. All the while, I could feel the presence of guards nearby.

Their dark armor and emotionless masks were all I could see. Their silent vigilance forced me to focus harder on fortifying my mind.

Hours passed before my mother returned. This time, she wasn't wearing her usual elaborate attire befitting a noble lady. Instead, her appearance was something out of ancient myths—a sorcerer's garb, complete with a staff of mechanical design I recognized as a force staff.

I noticed faint cybernetic wires trailing from one side of her head, almost imperceptible.

"William, I imagine you have questions," she said.

I stared at the woman who had caused me one of the worst physical and mental pains I'd ever endured since my rebirth. A surge of anger flared, but I suppressed it as I stood, stretching my sore limbs.

"Why did you put me through all of that?" I growled, irritation dripping from my words.

I felt a dangerous urge to summon lightning, but I restrained myself. The guards stationed around me would shoot without hesitation at the slightest provocation.

She sighed softly, almost as if in regret, but her eyes remained resolute. There was no remorse in her expression.

"You're a psyker, my son. Such a gift comes with its own dangers, and I cannot allow our house to fall to ruin from powers that could instead secure its future."

I raised an eyebrow, watching her intently. Her words echoed in my mind, but the memory of what I'd just endured lingered. I couldn't help but feel anger simmering beneath the surface.

"So, to see if I listened to those voices, you imprisoned and tortured me here?"

Resentment and anger seeped into my voice as I thought of the hours—or perhaps days—I'd spent in this cursed cell.

"Torture? You don't know what torture is, boy. This was more of an interrogation. As I said, such gifts come with their own dangers—dangers you seem to already know."

She circled me like a predator of old, pacing as if assessing prey. I refused to be cowed, keeping my eyes locked on hers.

"The voices. They were always there whenever I used my powers," I admitted, seeing no reason to deny it.

"Yes... they are. But did you listen to what they said?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"No, I ignored them. I paid no attention to the voices as I tried to learn what I could do," I replied. It was the truth. In a universe like this, even entertaining the voices of the Warp filled me with existential dread.

"You did well. I would have killed you if you had lied. But I saw into your mind—your strength, your ability to wield the Warp at such a young age, and still your mental resistance is remarkable."

"And what does that mean, Mother? You speak in riddles as though I'm supposed to understand without explanation," I snapped.

She stopped in front of me, looking up despite my height. Even as tall as I was for my age, I couldn't help but notice how much larger women tended to grow in this world compared to the time I'd come from.

Standing at six feet tall, her ebony skin, long white hair, and piercing red eyes made her a striking figure. Her sculptural frame, hidden beneath a dark cloak, was that of a high-ranking noble of a dystopian hive world.

### **But Also a Sorceress**

"But that is everything, my son. It doesn't just mean you are strong—it means you are worthy to learn."

I tried to suppress any surprise at her words.

"Learn?" I asked cautiously.

She nodded, her hand caressing the staff that seemed to hum with a faint, bluish psychic aura.

"Our house has wandered among the stars since long before the Imperium's arrival. We were a house of ancient nobles and sorcerers, my young one. When the Imperium came, we adapted, we learned, and we endured until the time of our ascension."

"Ascension? You mean as planetary governor?"

"Yes, but not just that," she said, her tone taking on a lecturing quality. "As you know, psykers are considered a danger within the Imperium. They are hunted wherever they dwell, taken aboard the Black Ships to Holy Terra, where they meet their fate—either serving our God-Emperor or being sacrificed to sustain Him on the Golden Throne."

She spoke as though delivering a history lesson spanning ten millennia.

"But not all psykers need be taken. Our house has existed for millennia, and in that time, we've learned to hide well. As will you, when you learn our secrets—knowledge spanning over four thousand years."

It sounded too good—far too good.

"I understand... but what must I give in return?"

Her hand slid gently across my face, a tender smile forming as her crimson eyes locked with mine.

"Keep our legacy alive, my son. Much of our history and knowledge has been lost, but here, on the fringes of the galaxy, we are free to explore our gifts in secret, to see what no one else has seen, and to grow our dominion over this world simply because we have the ability."

I wanted to sigh in relief that I wasn't being inducted into some chaotic cult, but I kept my expectations low. Most psykers weren't entirely sane, and even those who were often ended up falling to Chaos.

I needed to learn, grow stronger, and ensure no chaos cults arose within our borders. Because if they did, and the Inquisition was called, I doubted we'd escape unscathed.

"I am willing to teach you, my son," she continued. "Even if you resent the way you were introduced to this, remember—the voices are dangerous, a constant threat that must always be watched."

"I know, even if I'll never fully understand why," I lied, my tone neutral.

"Do not worry. There will be time to learn. Your training will begin soon."

And that was how I was introduced to the psychic arts in a way I never could have imagined.