Imperial Literature

This was hell. Men ran, screamed, fell, writhed, and then lay silent. Others charged forward, gun-muzzles spraying fire and receivers chattering and ejecting spent casings. Still others huddled in whatever scant cover they could find, whimpering or praying for God to save them.

But God, Samuel was convinced, could not hear their cries. He sat upon his gilded throne, a hundred thousand light-years away, slowly but surely rotting into nothing. His mind was occupied with other, more important matters. More important people. The screams of his most humble and loyal servants fell upon deaf ears.

The Imperial Guard was nothing to the God-Emperor. Samuel Jaekes was nothing to the God-Emperor. In the army of the Imperium, ordinary men fought battle after battle, and when their reservoir of luck had run out, they died. It was inevitable.

Sam was not an ordinary man, however. On the outside, he looked like one. He talked like an ordinary man, thought like an ordinary man, acted like an ordinary man. But just below the surface of his consciousness, a monster lay in wait, ready to break out when the time was right.

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