"As long as they remained within the capital walls," Vi said softly, "they could not die from a wound. They could not fall ill. They didn't even age. It was paradise. A gift of divine magnitude."
She paused, letting the weight of those words settle like ancient dust.
"But," her voice darkened, "There was another great figure: the Barbarian Primarch. While the Human Emperor guided mankind into nobility and order, the Primarch led the wildmen, scattered tribes and feral warriors."
Kaelor listened, drawn in.
"They drank his blood, and through it, they changed. Became bigger, stronger… monsters in human form. His blood was their power and their curse. The Primarch would soak himself in a pool of blood to recover after each offering. And to sustain him, his followers hunted not animals, but people. Villages, towns, even cities were raided, their inhabitants dragged off and drained, just to keep him alive."
Vi looked away, the wind catching her silver hair.
