Scintilla is where they had sent him, to Hive Sibeluis, to be exact. Markus had known ahead of time that he would be working with the Inquisition, not through some miraculous clairvoyance of his own but simply because his trainers had told him. His particular talents were in high demand, and his level of control had barely proved adequate to send him forth into the field. Hopefully, with time and his resolute faith in the Emperor, he would only grow stronger. If he failed, well, a blackship to Terra always awaited those with the gifts necessary to power the Astronomicon.
As he walked down the busy street, occasionally turning heads with his focus-staff and flaming red hair, Markus considered his fate. It would be a great honor to give his life to the Golden Throne. That was what he had been conditioned to believe, and so he did. However, he supposedly had the potential for even greater service, as an Inquisitor. Thus, it wasn't fear of going back to Terra that drove Markus to this private meeting, but his intense devotion. If there was more he could give than his life, he would give it.
Markus paused under a great statue of a weeping saint and pulled out a scrap of paper where he had scribbled a vague map to himself. Reaffirming his location, he realized he had to hurry. He tucked the note back into his pocket and proceeded briskly.
So focused he was on getting to the meeting, that Markus failed to notice the initial, faint signs of illness affecting his body. There, just around this outpost... the elevator. Striding with intent, Markus stumbled unexpectedly and staggered for a moment. That was when he realized something was wrong.
The young man in the long white coat that had been approaching swayed as he blinked confusedly with blue eyes. He couldn't have been more than 20 or so standard years of age. Such a child should have been fit and vigorous, but he looked unwell. The servitor remained unmoving at the entrance to the elevator, but Markus saw another man standing there with him.
Markus reached out with his thoughts toward the two beings, but it was like all his energy simply fell into a void in the space around him, draining him of even his life. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't sense anything. A dull pain grew inside him, as if coursing through his own blood. His head hurt, and he leaned heavily on his staff.
Perplexion and possibly fear showed on his face as he looked up just meters in front of the elevator. He had no idea what was affecting him, for there were things the Scholastic Psykana intentionally never told him. Clinging to his staff, he forced himself forward, one step at a time... Markus collapsed to the ground unconscious.
As he walked down the busy street, occasionally turning heads with his focus-staff and flaming red hair, Markus considered his fate. It would be a great honor to give his life to the Golden Throne. That was what he had been conditioned to believe, and so he did. However, he supposedly had the potential for even greater service, as an Inquisitor. Thus, it wasn't fear of going back to Terra that drove Markus to this private meeting, but his intense devotion. If there was more he could give than his life, he would give it.
Markus paused under a great statue of a weeping saint and pulled out a scrap of paper where he had scribbled a vague map to himself. Reaffirming his location, he realized he had to hurry. He tucked the note back into his pocket and proceeded briskly.
So focused he was on getting to the meeting, that Markus failed to notice the initial, faint signs of illness affecting his body. There, just around this outpost... the elevator. Striding with intent, Markus stumbled unexpectedly and staggered for a moment. That was when he realized something was wrong.
The young man in the long white coat that had been approaching swayed as he blinked confusedly with blue eyes. He couldn't have been more than 20 or so standard years of age. Such a child should have been fit and vigorous, but he looked unwell. The servitor remained unmoving at the entrance to the elevator, but Markus saw another man standing there with him.
Markus reached out with his thoughts toward the two beings, but it was like all his energy simply fell into a void in the space around him, draining him of even his life. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't sense anything. A dull pain grew inside him, as if coursing through his own blood. His head hurt, and he leaned heavily on his staff.
Perplexion and possibly fear showed on his face as he looked up just meters in front of the elevator. He had no idea what was affecting him, for there were things the Scholastic Psykana intentionally never told him. Clinging to his staff, he forced himself forward, one step at a time... Markus collapsed to the ground unconscious.