Hercules's consciousness drifted like a kite with a broken string through an endless, absolute void.
There was no light here, no sound, no sense of touch, no measure of time or space, only eternal silence and darkness that swallowed everything.
He could not feel his body, the fluid in the cultivation tank, or the agony that had torn through him.
He felt himself dissolving, like a drop of ink merging into an endless pool of black, about to vanish into utter nothingness.
Just as his consciousness teetered on the brink of oblivion, a faint point of light pierced the dense darkness.
The light rapidly expanded and changed shape, finally resolving into a scene. He had returned to Colchis, his homeworld.
This was no longer the barren, savage surface of the death world Tenerum, nor the cold, unforgiving metal corridors of a Word Bearers warship.
He "stood" on the soil of his homeland. Beneath his feet lay familiar, slightly damp earth, and he seemed to smell the distinctive scent of the forest near his home, a mingling of humus and fragrant wildflowers.
Warm sunlight filtered through scattered clouds and fell upon his "skin."
He saw the familiar little house built from rough local stone, cooking smoke curling from its roof.
The door opened.
His family came out.
His father gazed at him with eyes full of love and a trace of worry.
His mother, her face bearing the gentle marks of passing years, opened her arms. Her smile brimmed with wholehearted love, warm enough to melt steel.
His younger brothers and sisters called his name and ran toward him, their faces filled with pure, unalloyed joy.
Everything was so real, so perfect, as though he had never left, never endured the life-and-death trials of becoming a Space Marine, never entered the