Rae van Daleon – The Roots of the Storm

by Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 67: Night’s Whispers

The medical wing of the Scola lay in hushed darkness, the usual bustle of activity reduced to whispered conversations and the soft hum of monitoring equipment. Through the high windows, Macragge’s moons cast pale light across the sterile floors, creating shadows that seemed to move with lives of their own.

In the recovery ward, Rae lay awake despite her exhaustion. The medicae’s treatments had dulled the worst of her pain, but sleep remained elusive. Her mind kept replaying the day’s horrors—the psyker’s twisted form, the deaths of the storm troopers, Alric’s blood staining Marcus’s hands.

Quiet Vigil

Down the corridor, in the intensive care unit, Alric fought his own battles. Through the observation window, Rae could just make out Marcus’s massive silhouette. He hadn’t left his post since they’d brought Alric out of surgery, standing guard like an immovable sentinel.

Celestine had finally succumbed to exhaustion, curled up in a chair near Rae’s bed. Her knives lay within easy reach, glinting occasionally in the moonlight. Even in sleep, her face held a tension that spoke of nightmares barely contained.

Soren maintained his watch from the upper gallery, his crossbow across his knees. The shadows didn’t hide him—he had become one with them, a quiet guardian in the darkness. Occasionally, his soft footsteps would echo as he made his rounds, checking every corner, every shadow.

Tyren’s cogitator cast a faint blue glow from his workstation. He hadn’t stopped monitoring since their return, his fingers moving tirelessly across the interface as he searched for patterns, for answers, for any sign of further threats.

Night’s Thoughts

The silence was broken only by the soft beeping of medical equipment and the distant sounds of the Scola’s night routine—the changing of guards, the whispered prayers from the chapel, the eternal vigilance of an institution that never truly slept.

Rae touched her bruised ribs gently, feeling the Emperor’s fury still burning quietly within her. The rage had subsided, but something else had taken its place—a cold, clear purpose. The Prescriptor, the corruption, the darkness that had claimed Talia and now threatened them all… it would end.

As the night deepened, the shadows grew longer, but they held no fear for her now. She had become something more than just a novice today. She had become vengeance, justice, faith made manifest.

The Emperor protects, she thought, watching the moons’ slow journey across the night sky. But through His servants, He strikes.

And in the quiet darkness of the medical wing, surrounded by her sleeping friends and the weight of battles yet to come, Rae van Daleon kept her vigil. The night might be silent, but the war for the Scola’s soul raged on.

The darkness would return. But when it did, it would find them ready. Faith’s blade never slept.

The Scola’s ancient chronometer struck midnight, its deep tones rolling through the stone corridors like distant thunder. In the medical wing, each member of the team kept their own counsel, lost in thoughts as profound as the darkness around them.

Marcus’s Vigil

Through the observation window, Marcus stood unmoving. His massive frame cast a long shadow across Alric’s bed, where machines quietly monitored every breath, every heartbeat. His thoughts were a storm of guilt and determination.

“Should’ve been faster,” he whispered to the quiet room. “Should’ve protected you better.”

A medicae servitor approached to check Alric’s vitals. Marcus stepped aside just enough to allow access, but his eyes never left his friend’s pale face. The memory of Alric stepping in front of that shot meant for Celestine played over and over in his mind.

Celestine’s Dreams

In her chair near Rae’s bed, Celestine stirred restlessly. Her sleep was troubled, fingers twitching toward her knives at every small sound. In her dreams, she saw the psyker’s corrupted form again, felt the weight of the threat against her, heard Alric’s warning shout.

“Not your fault,” she murmured in her sleep, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. “Not your sacrifice to make…”

Soren’s Watch

From his position in the upper gallery, Soren methodically scanned the shadows. His crossbow remained loaded, a bolt blessed with prayers he’d learned from Sister Verena. The night reminded him of the tunnels where they’d lost Talia—dark, full of secrets, promising more horror to come.

He touched the small aquila hanging at his throat, a gift from Talia before everything went wrong. “We’ll find them all,” he promised the night. “Every last one.”

Tyren’s Calculations

The blue glow of Tyren’s cogitator cast strange patterns on the walls. His fingers never stopped moving, correlating data, analyzing patterns, searching for connections. The psyker’s energy signatures, the corruption’s spread pattern, the timing of the attacks—everything held meaning, if he could just see it.

“The Emperor’s truth lies in patterns,” he whispered, repeating one of Magos Omnitek’s teachings. “In data flows the light of understanding.”

Rae’s Reflection

Rae watched her friends, each lost in their own private battles against the night. The moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and shadow, making the medical wing feel like a sanctuary frozen in time.

She thought of Kael’s words about faith and fury, about the darkness that had been growing in the Scola system. The weight of it all should have been crushing for an eleven-year-old, but instead, it filled her with a quiet, burning resolve.

The Night Deepens

A cloud passed over the moons, dimming their light momentarily. In that deeper darkness, each member of the team felt their connection to each other grow stronger. They were more than friends now, more than just novices. They were warriors of faith, forged in battles against corruption that most would never understand.

Marcus shifted his weight, his shadow moving slightly across Alric’s bed.

Celestine’s hand tightened on her knife hilt, even in sleep.

Soren’s footsteps whispered across the gallery as he continued his rounds.

Tyren’s cogitator hummed softly as it processed another data stream.

And Rae kept her quiet vigil, watching over them all.

The night grew deeper, but none of them truly slept. They were guardians now, sentinels against a darkness that had already taken too much from them. Tomorrow would bring new battles, new threats, new challenges. But for now, in this silent night, they stood watch—together yet alone, each carrying their own weight of duty and determination.

The Emperor protects, they thought in their different ways. And through us, He will bring light to these shadows.

The chronometer ticked on, counting down the hours until dawn. But in the medical wing of the Scola Progenium, faith never slumbered, and vengeance kept its quiet vigil through the longest hours of the night.

The night’s deepest hour had settled over the medical wing when Sister Verena made her rounds, checking on the wounded novices. As she adjusted Rae’s blanket, something fluttered from between the folds—a carefully folded piece of parchment, sealed with a drop of red wax bearing no mark.

Rae’s hand caught it before it could fall, her trained reflexes quick even in her exhausted state. Sister Verena raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely nodding before continuing her rounds.

The Letter

In the pale moonlight, Rae carefully broke the seal. The handwriting was elegant but strong, each letter formed with careful precision:

“Dearest Rae,

Your fury today was beautiful—pure as faith itself. I watched you become something more than just a novice, something that made even the shadows retreat. The Emperor’s light burns so bright in you that it hurts to look upon, yet I cannot look away.

When you threw your blade, saving the Inquisitor, my heart stopped. Not from fear, but from pride. You are everything the Scola hopes to create, everything I aspire to be. Your strength isn’t just in your blade or your fury—it’s in your heart, in the way you protect those you love.

I know these words must remain in shadow, like so much else in these dark days. But know this: you are not alone in your vigil. There are those who watch, who guard, who would give anything to keep you safe.

Rest now, warrior of faith. Tomorrow brings new battles, but tonight, let others stand watch while you heal.

With deepest admiration,

One who sees your light”

Rae held the letter close, her heart beating a little faster. In the quiet darkness, surrounded by her sleeping friends and the weight of all they faced, these words felt like a warm light—a reminder that even in the darkest times, hope and tenderness could still bloom.

She carefully folded the letter and tucked it away with the others, a small collection of mystery and comfort. Somewhere in the Scola, someone watched over her, someone who saw not just the warrior she was becoming, but the heart that drove her blade.

The night continued its quiet vigil, and Rae finally felt sleep approaching, the letter’s words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. Tomorrow would bring more battles, more mysteries, more challenges. But for now, in this moment, she wasn’t just a warrior of faith—she was also a young girl, touched by words of admiration and care.

The moons continued their journey across the sky, casting silver light on a small smile that had found its way to Rae’s lips as she finally drifted into sleep.

The peaceful silence of the medical wing shattered as monitoring equipment suddenly screamed to life. The harsh, steady tone of a flatlined heart monitor cut through the night like a blade.

“Code Red! ICU Three!” a medicae’s voice rang out. “Cardiac arrest!”

Marcus’s reaction was instant, his massive frame stumbling back from the observation window as medical staff rushed past him. “No, no, no…” his voice broke as he watched Alric’s body arch slightly on the bed.

Emergency Response

The night shift medicae team moved with practiced precision. Sister Hospitalier Maren took command, her voice sharp and clear over the chaos.

“Begin compression sequence! Get me that stimm pack NOW!”

Rae jolted awake at the commotion, her body protesting as she pushed herself up. Celestine was already on her feet, knives forgotten as she pressed against the observation window beside Marcus.

“Emperor protect him,” Celestine whispered, her hand pressed against the glass. “Please…”

The Battle for Life

Inside the ICU, the team worked frantically. A servitor administered chest compressions while Sister Maren prepared a cocktail of emergency stimms. The monitors continued their merciless drone, marking each second without a heartbeat.

“No response to initial compression,” a medicae reported. “Blood pressure critical.”

“Administering cardiac stimm,” Sister Maren announced, driving the injector into Alric’s chest. “Stand clear!”

Alric’s body jerked as the stimms hit his system. The monitor’s tone wavered for a moment, then returned to its dreadful monotone.

“Again!” Sister Maren commanded. “Increase voltage! We’re not losing him!”

“Second stimm pack ready!” a medicae called out as Sister Maren worked. The monitoring equipment’s drone seemed to grow louder with each passing second, marking the precious moments Alric’s heart remained still.

“Emperor guide my hands,” Sister Maren whispered, driving the second stimm pack into Alric’s chest. His body convulsed again, monitors flickering.

The Critical Edge

“No response!” The servitor continued compressions, its mechanical movements precise and tireless. “Oxygen levels critical. Brain function declining.”

Sister Maren’s face hardened with determination. She reached for a small, ornate box on her medical tray—a relic of the Ecclesiarchy, reserved for the most desperate cases.

“Sacred oils of resurrection,” she intoned, marking Alric’s forehead with the blessed substance. “By His will, return this warrior to us.”

Outside the ICU, Marcus pressed his forehead against the glass, his massive frame shaking. Rae had somehow made it to his side, her small hand gripping his arm.

The Final Push

“Third stimm pack!” Sister Maren’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “Maximum charge! Clear!”

The monitors screamed as the strongest dose yet surged through Alric’s system. For a terrible moment, nothing changed. The monotone drone continued its merciless song.

Then…

A blip.

Another.

“Heartbeat detected!” A medicae called out. “Weak but present!”

“Stabilise him NOW!” Sister Maren commanded. “Get that blood pressure up! Start the sacred incantations of preservation!”

The medical team moved with renewed vigor, their actions precise and desperate. Servitors administered stabilising compounds while Sister Maren continued her work, her hands steady despite the intensity of the moment.

“Stay with us, little warrior,” she murmured, watching the monitors slowly strengthen. “The Emperor’s not done with you yet.”

The night had nearly claimed another of their own, but faith and medicine had pulled Alric back from the brink. Yet as the emergency stabilised, everyone knew: this was just another battle in a longer war.

And somewhere in the darkness, the enemies who had put Alric in this position waited, planning their next move.

As Alric’s heartbeat stabilised into a steady rhythm, the emergency team’s frantic activity slowly transformed into careful monitoring. Sister Maren stepped back from the bed, her hands slightly trembling as she made the sign of the aquila.

“Let them in,” she nodded to the medicae by the door. “Briefly.”

The Aftermath

Marcus was the first through the door, his large frame somehow managing to move without disturbing any of the equipment. Rae and Celestine followed, with Tyren and Soren close behind. They gathered around Alric’s bed, careful not to touch any of the monitoring devices or the numerous tubes now keeping their friend alive.

“He’s so pale,” Celestine whispered, her usual confidence cracking.

Sister Maren’s Assessment

“He nearly left us,” Sister Maren said, her voice carrying the weight of decades of medical experience. “The trauma from the las-rounds, combined with the proximity to Warp corruption… it was too much for his system.”

She checked the monitoring equipment one more time before continuing, “The blessed stimms and sacred oils brought him back, but the next twenty-four hours are critical. His body is fighting not just physical wounds, but the echo of that psyker’s presence.”

Rae looked up at the Sister Hospitalier, her young face marked with worry and exhaustion. “Will he… will he fully recover?”

Sister Maren’s expression softened slightly. “The Emperor protects, little one. Alric is young and strong, and his faith is pure. But…” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “he’ll need more than just medical care. He’ll need all of you.”

The Team’s Vigil

Marcus hadn’t moved from Alric’s side, his massive hand gently resting near his friend’s arm, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. “I’m not leaving,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Not again.”

“None of us are,” Celestine added, her hand finding Rae’s and squeezing it tight.

Tyren had set up his cogitator to interface with the medical monitoring systems. “I’ll sync the readings to my device. Any change, any fluctuation, we’ll know instantly.”

Soren moved to the window, his crossbow ready. “Nothing gets near him. Not while we breathe.”

Sister Maren watched them, these young warriors bound by more than just training or friendship. “Very well,” she said, making a note in her dataslate. “You may stay, but at the first sign of deterioration…”

“We understand,” Rae nodded, speaking for them all.

A New Dawn Approaches

The medical wing slowly returned to its quiet routine, though now filled with the soft beeping of stabilised monitors rather than the earlier emergency alarms. Sister Maren arranged for additional chairs to be brought in, knowing none of the team would leave.

“The Emperor tests us in many ways,” she said before leaving them to their vigil. “Sometimes through battle, sometimes through waiting. Both require equal strength.”

As the night continued its slow march toward dawn, the team settled into their positions around Alric’s bed. Each lost in their own thoughts, their own prayers, their own promises to do better, to be stronger, to protect each other more fiercely.

They had almost lost another friend tonight. But unlike with Talia, they had been given a second chance. And in the quiet hours before dawn, they silently vowed to make that chance count.

The war for the Scola raged on, but for now, in this room, there was only the quiet solidarity of friends standing guard over one of their own, waiting for morning’s light to bring new hope.