(A/N: Hey all, as you all know, Sebastian now has Terminator armor, but its kinda messing with how i want to write him. So im just going to revert him to having normal Astartes armor, though its relic armor. Hope that make sense! Thank you all!)
=== Raxor ===
The Thunderhawk tore through Tython's atmosphere, clouds boiling away beneath its armored prow while the ancient world spread out below them in broken greens and stone-gray plateaus. Raxor stood closest to the ramp, fingers flexing unconsciously around the grip of his heavy bolter as the familiar pull in his chest grew stronger with every second they descended.
Maximus stood just beside him, thunderhammer mag-locked at his side, while Sebastian loomed to the other. No one spoke. They didn't need to.
The Thunderhawk hit the ground in front of the Temple with a bone-rattling impact, retro-thrusters howling before cutting out. The ramp slammed down, and Raxor was already moving before it finished lowering. He burst from the ship at a near run, boots hammering stone as he crossed the landing terrace toward the towering temple structure ahead, its weathered spires rising like the ribs of some colossal fossil. "He's here," Raxor said over his shoulder, voice raw and urgent. "I can feel it. I swear by the Emperor, he's here." Maximus lengthened his stride to keep pace. "Slow down," the Ultramarine warned, calm but firm. "If this place is trapped—" "I don't care," Raxor snapped, not breaking stride. "I will tear this world apart stone by stone if I have to."
Behind them, more Thunderhawks descended, disgorging Dooku, Nira, and the other leaders of the Imperium in a disciplined surge of ceramite and beskar. But Raxor barely registered them. He hit the temple doors like a living battering ram, forcing them open with brute strength, striding into the cool, echoing interior where the air felt heavy with age and dust. His vox crackled with overlapping reports, but he silenced them all with a sharp gesture. "Search everything," he ordered. "Every chamber. Every vault. Leave nothing untouched."
He moved through the temple like a man possessed, storming down corridors, ripping open sealed doors, sweeping his auspex across meditation halls and abandoned sanctums. "Father!" he called more than once, the name torn from his throat without restraint. "My lord! If you can hear me, answer!" Each empty room drove the ache deeper, turning hope into something more desperate. His pace grew frantic, almost reckless. Maximus caught his arm at one point, ceramite fingers biting into Raxor's vambrace. "Raxor," he said quietly, "breathe. We will find him." Raxor wrenched free. "Every second we waste is another second he's gone."
At last they reached the deepest section of the temple, a vast chamber carved directly from the mountain itself. The doors slid open with a low, ancient groan, and the room beyond lay silent and still. Raxor crossed the threshold, and stopped dead. In the center of the chamber rested a massive stone slab, cracked and weathered, bearing the unmistakable impression of a body that had lain there for a very long time. Beside it, leaning against the stone with quiet, terrible dignity, was Urdrakule.
The hammer dwarfed everything around it, its head scarred and blackened, runes faintly visible along its surface. Even at rest, it radiated power, as if the air itself bowed around it. Raxor's bolter slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a dull clang. Slowly, he reached up and removed his helmet, letting it fall from numb fingers. It rolled once across the stone and came to rest at the foot of the slab.
"Urdrakule…" The Salamander whispered, his voice breaking. He staggered forward, every step heavier than the last, until he stood before the hammer. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the stone floor, gauntleted hands trembling as they hovered inches from Urdrakule without touching it. A sound tore from his chest then, half sob, half laugh, as he bowed his head, shoulders shaking as he wept openly in the ancient hall.
Sebastian stopped short, confusion flickering across his scarred features. "He's not here," the Black Templar said quietly, almost gently. "Brother… I know this hurts." Maximus knelt beside Raxor, one massive hand settling on his pauldron. "We will continue the search," he said. "If Vulkan lives, we will find him. I swear it."
Raxor shook his head, laughter cutting through his sobs. "You don't understand," he said hoarsely. He looked up at them then, eyes red-rimmed but blazing with something fierce and reverent. "I'm not weeping because he's gone. I'm weeping because this proves it." He reached out at last and rested his palm against Urdrakule's haft, reverent as a pilgrim touching a relic. "He was here. Vulkan was here. My Primarch walked this world!"
Sebastian frowned. "Raxor—" He began to say, but was cut off. "For ten thousand years," Raxor continued, voice trembling, "we hoped. We prayed. We told ourselves the legends were true because the alternative was unthinkable." He let out a shuddering breath. "And now? Now there's no doubt. He's alive. He's free. And he's out there somewhere." He looked from Maximus to Sebastian, a fierce, almost joyful smile breaking through his tears. "We will find him. I don't care how long it takes or how many worlds we burn to ash. Vulkan lives!"
Maximus straightened slowly, gaze lingering on the hammer. "Then this was not a failure," he said at last. "It was a confirmation that he lives." Sebastian inclined his head, pressing a fist to his chest. "The Emperor tests us," he murmured. "And rewards our faith."
Raxor rose to his feet, wiping his face with the back of his gauntlet before replacing his helmet. When he turned back to the chamber, his grief had hardened into iron resolve. "Mark this place," he ordered, voice steady once more. "Secure the relic. And spread the word through the Imperium." He paused, one last glance at Urdrakule. "Tell them Vulkan has returned. And we will not stop until we bring my father home. Tell them, Vulkan lives!"
=== Anakin ===
Darkness clung to Anakin like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, until it slowly peeled back and resolved into a place that felt wrong in every way that mattered. He stood on a vast durasteel platform suspended over lava, the air thick and hot with heat rising from the river below him.
A towering figure stood between him and the far end of the platform, broad and immovable as all Astartes seemed to be. Emerald armor caught the dim light, scorched and scarred, the sigil of the Salamanders burning bright upon his left pauldron. Raxor turned slowly to face him, massive boots grinding against the deck, and even in the dream Anakin could feel the sheer weight of the Astartes' anger, like standing before a living engine of war. Beyond him, framed by the open maw of a waiting gunship, Padmé lay limp in the arms of a familiar figure. Her head lolled to the side, her face pale, one hand instinctively curled around her swollen belly as Nira clung to her desperately.
"No," Anakin whispered, the word tearing itself from his throat as his feet carried him forward. "Padmé! Padmé!"
He broke into a run, reaching for the Force, but Raxor moved to meet him with terrifying speed. The Salamander stepped into Anakin's path, one massive arm coming up to swat him. He flew back, and hit the ground hard, the impact sending a shock through Anakin's body.
"Go," Raxor yelled, turning to look at Nira who quickly took Padmé into the ships belly.
"Get out of my way!" Anakin snarled, shoving against him, desperation bleeding into rage.
He lashed out with the Force, but it slid off Raxor like water over adamantium as if his connection to the Force had been cut for some reason. The Salamander caught his wrist in one massive gauntlet, the grip crushing, and forced him back a step. Behind them, the gunship's engines roared to life.
"No!" Anakin choked, his voice breaking as he twisted to look past Raxor.
The ramp began to close. Nira turned briefly, her gaze flicking to Anakin, before the shadows swallowed her and Padmé alike. The gunship lifted, its engines screaming as it tore away into the void. Anakin roared, throwing himself forward again, only to be held fast as the ship vanished from sight.
The world shattered.
The platform dissolved, reforming into a stark white chamber that reeked of antiseptic. Harsh lights burned overhead, stabbing into Anakin's eyes as he found himself standing at the edge of an operating room. Padmé lay on a table at its center, her body arched in agony, sweat plastering her hair to her face. Droids and armored figures moved around her in a blur of motion, instruments flashing, monitors screaming. Her hands clawed at the table as she cried out, the sound cutting straight through Anakin like a blade as Nira gripped one of her hands.
"Stop!" he screamed, lunging forward. "Get away from her!"
No one heard him. No one even looked at him. It was as if he were nothing more than a ghost, condemned to watch.
"Anakin!" Padmé cried, her voice hoarse and broken. "It hurts, Anakin, please!"
"She's dying," Anakin screamed, horror clawing up his spine as he took in the scene, his mind twisting it into something monstrous. "You're killing her! You're tearing her apart!" he shouted to no one.
The machines whined louder, alarms spiking as Padmé screamed again, a sound of pure anguish that ripped at his soul. Blood stained the sheets. The figures around her moved faster, their actions precise and merciless in his eyes. Every instinct he had told him this was torture, deliberate and cruel, and his helplessness fed the fire growing inside his chest.
"I'll destroy you!" he vowed through clenched teeth, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her and found nothing but empty air. "I swear it! I'll burn your Imperium to the ground! I'll kill every last one of you if that's what it takes to save her!"
Padmé's cry rose one last time, sharp and piercing, and then the room was swallowed by blinding light. The sound cut off abruptly, leaving only silence and the echo of Anakin's own ragged breathing as the vision began to collapse in on itself, dragging him back toward darkness with his fear and rage burning brighter than ever.
He surfaced to awareness suspended in warmth, his body held upright by slim wires. All around him, glowing liquid pressed against every burn and wound. The bacta tank hummed softly around him, its faint currents tugging at his limbs as if reminding him that they were still there. Pain existed only as a distant pressure, muted and dulled, but the memory of fire, force, the roar of an explosion still echoed in his mind. His chest tightened as his eyes fluttered open, vision blurring as shapes resolved into the sterile whites and silvers of a medical chamber.
A familiar man approached the tank.
"Anakin," Palpatine's voice came gently, amplified slightly through the glass with concern. "Can you hear me, my boy?"
Anakin tried to speak, but only bubbles rose from his mouth around the mouthpiece. He forced himself to focus instead, lifting his gaze and giving a small, sluggish nod. The effort sent ripples through the bacta.
Palpatine moved closer, his face appearing through the curved surface of the tank. "Good," he said softly. "You've been unconscious for some time. We were… quite worried."
Anakin's thoughts snapped immediately to one name, one face. His eyes widened, panic flaring despite the sedatives flooding his system. Palpatine noticed at once.
"Easy," the Chancellor said, raising a hand as if to steady him through the glass. "You were caught in a terrible explosion at the Senate building. The Imperium planted a bomb, an act of terror meant to cripple the Republic and throw Coruscant into chaos." His voice hardened just a touch at the word Imperium. "The blast caused severe burns. Your body took the brunt of it, but you're healing. The medics assure me you will recover, though, maybe not completely.
Anakin's breathing quickened, bubbles streaming upward as fear overwhelmed restraint. His eyes locked onto Palpatine's, silently demanding the answer he was afraid to hear.
The seconds stretched unbearably thin.
"The Senate apartments were destroyed in the blast," Palpatine said at last. "Many senators were killed."
Anakin's world tilted. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides, heart hammering so hard it felt as though it might shatter the glass around him. The Force churned faintly, unfocused and wild.
"But," Palpatine added quickly, leaning closer, lowering his voice, "Padmé was not there when the bomb detonated."
Relief crashed through Anakin so hard it left him weak. His chest shuddered, and for a moment all he could do was cling to that single truth.
"She was attacked earlier by Imperium forces, but she escaped. She is quite shaken, and only lightly injured, but alive." His expression softened, almost kind. "She's on her way here now. She insisted on seeing you the moment she was cleared to travel."
Anakin closed his eyes, a trembling exhale escaping him as the weight he'd been carrying finally lifted, if only a little. Padmé was alive. Whatever horrors he had seen, whatever visions had haunted him, they had not come to pass. Not yet.
Palpatine straightened slowly, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded Anakin with something like satisfaction. "Rest for now," he said gently. "When she arrives, there is something important I wish to show you both. Something that will help you understand what has truly been set in motion… and what must be done to protect those you love."
Anakin opened his eyes again, exhaustion and gratitude mingling with a growing, uneasy curiosity. He gave another small nod, and Palpatine turned from the tank, hiding a growing smile.
===
discord.gg/vDrfkXnDe2
If you enjoyed this chapter, maybe consider leaving me with a couple of your power stones? I promise I'll take good care of them:)