The Eye Of The Storm

“It is time Lady.” barked the little monster, a horror of Tzeentch, its voice twisted into the moans of the dead.

“Yes… Status on the last preparations? How many more…”

“Twelve Armigers are no more, as are fifteen Quest—“

“Fifteen?!” Roared Reeta. “Gods… and that fool won’t even head my words anymore, too busy pooling in his own grandeur!” The metal of her gauntlet creaked as her grip tightened, teeth gritting against each other.

“There was also… a Castigator.”

“You mean to tell me that the last in our arsenal has fallen to our own?!”

“Not taken by infighting… but our Lord, he chose to take it apart for display—repainted in Alekto’s hues, a mockery of his query.”

She did not answer, her silence more damning than any insult.

“My lady…?”

“That karker has lost his mind… First he purges our finest war machines, then he corrupts the rest into uncontrollable beasts. The halls of House Valenmour are no more… all that remains is that man’s own ego. Everything we bled for—every battle etched into tapestries, every sacrifice—gone. All for his glory. His only ambition? To fatten his carcass of a soul. He cares nothing for his people. Nothing for his Knights. Nothing for our legacy. This cannot continue… Terhil—you who has ascended to the throne by right of blood, you who has decimated our legacy, you who has abandoned our realm… I will claim vengeance. Our House might be too far gone… but I am not. I will end this. When the time is right, you will taste your own blood in the hopes it reminds you what you’ve thrown to the dirt. May Sapphire’s own weapons tear through you.”

“You speak of regicide! How delicious! There is naught more pleasant than the hope of change through blood!”

“There is no hope in my actions… only vengeance.” Reeta marched towards the daemon before grabbing it with her hand and throwing a dagger with the other into the poor warpspawn. Its blade cutting deep into into one of its amber eyes before tearing it down and slicing the screeching remnants in half. The split horror’s scream multiplied—a chorus of dying voices—before its halves twisted into twin azure flames, leaving only the stench of ozone and a single, blinking eye in the air.

The traitor wiped her blade clean of fresh goop before sheathing it. She took her helmet that lay on a the steel table and left the room, then into the wrist-mounted device, she voxed to the remaining forces of House Valenmour:

“Beasts, abominations…, daemons. Tonight we march to war once again at our master’s wishes. There are uncountable worlds that cling to the hope their corpse emperor will save them, we shall show them their folly. We do not follow blindly a maddened foul that seeks only to enrich his own grandeur. We do not serve an Emperor that has forgotten us, we do not serve an Emperor that has forsaken us, and we do serve an Emperor that seeks to use us for his own aspirations! We serve a God that empowers us, a God that listens to our prayers, a God that gives us the hope to tear down tyrants. Let His lies shine… until the truth cuts them down. Let desperation fill their veins as our weapons tear them apart! Let the blood of the weak mark our path! Death to our enemies. Death to the false Emperor!”

A pause. Static. Then, softer—”And death to the king who forgot his throne.”

---

Voltstina charged with its claw drawn and ready to strike, energy cackling from each talon. There was no time to dodge, her opponent was too close, instead she peppered the foe’s ion barrier with her cannon while preparing to parry the incoming blow. As shells detonated against solid energy, showering the Knights in smoke and charred brass, Voltstina finally swung its weapon, grabbing onto Alekto’s warblade before attempting to force the claw to close—power field versus power field. Zareen’s own body supplied the energy necessary for the blade to survive, and yet Terhil was still dominant. With a loud crash, the claw finally snapped together, crushing the blade into pieces.

With her right armament torn apart, she slammed the spitting bolt cannon deeper into Voltstina until the barrier finally gave in, flickering before breaking apart in a firework of lights. Terhil fired his las cannon in retaliation but Zareen had already predicted it, using her own castigator cannon to punch into the weapon and send its aim wide. With both of the Knight’s ranged weapons locked together, she slammed the remnants of the warblade into her opponent’s right side to its surprise—the blade itself might be gone but the electronics remained operational.

A grin grew across the pilot’s face as the circuits became overloaded with raw energy, creating a distorted power field that detonated into Voltstina, melting straight into the enemy’s chassis—victory.

As she removed what remained of Alekto’s right arm from the carcase, her kill dissipated into a rainbow of pixels, triumphant hymns blared—recorded cheers* from long-dead crew—as confetti melted into ash the moment it touched Alekto’s hull. A useless charade…

The woman sighed before severing her link with the Knight and removing her helmet.

“Congratulations / Hardest level = beaten / Your training has truly paid off.” Bellegymere’s stoic voice erupted from the cockpit’s vox.

“A hollow victory… That simulacrum is nothing compared to the actual abomination. No offense but this is pointless.” She hit the hatch release key and jumped out of her cage, before sliding onto the nearest ladder and rejoining the cold hangar floor.

“Criticism noted / Difficulty can be increased?” Now his voice boomed from in front of Zareen as they reunited, giving an opportunity for the techpriest to inspect her armor for any damage.

“It’s not that. Your simulations are good but Terhil is different… He doesn’t fight according to rules, he doesn’t follow well known techniques—he’s so far above it all.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just trying to say there’s no substitute for the real thing. Just focus on maintaining Alekto, without you he would’ve been worth a handful of aquilas in a scrapyard by now.”

“That I can do / I trust your judgment.”

“Thanks Bel.”

Just as their conversation ended, the hangar’s vox came to life, it was Phoebe “To all retinue members, impromptu meeting in my office immediately. Priority Theta.”

“That can’t be good…” continued Zareen, before making her way down the hall with Bel.

As they arrived, the air in the room was stale, tense.

“Everyone is here, we may commence. Began Lilith, her grip tight around her rosette. “We have received preliminary reports that House Valenmour has launched an all out slaughter campaign, with Terhil at the head.”

Zareen grit her teeth at the mention of his name, her scar burned neon, her pulse hammering as copper filled her mouth. She swallowed the blood before anyone noticed—almost. Gastel’s nostrils flared, his enhanced senses catching the iron scent. Their eyes met. A silent question. A silent warning.

“This sector is in a state of emergency, all available fleets and regiments have been diverted to Reo XI, most likely the Archenemy’s next target. Normally we might have been spared the carnage but with a Knight aboard, the Imperium requires our resources in the coming battle. I don’t believe this bears repeating but this is our best opportunity to slay Terhil—he will most likely seek to engage Alekto in a duel, to which Zareen will crush that madman once and for all.”

“If I can crush him… He is still extremely powerful—likely even stronger now as he grows fat with power.” Interjected the pilot, it was a big ‘if’.

“This will certainly be the toughest fight of your life—but you have trained nigh endlessly in preparation for this moment. Ninety-three years of war—and this will be your finest hour. I believe you are capable of slaying that beast and bringing back its head.”

‘But at what cost’ She wanted to speak her thoughts. “Thanks… we’ll have to see.” Was all she spoke instead.

“As for the others, you’ll receive assignments in coordination with our allies.” Continued the Inquisitor.

“So Zareen will be alone again?” asked Gastel.

“No, not this time. I will accompany her.”

The pilot brought her head up suddenly upon hearing the unexpected—and yet, Terhil’s grim prophecy echoed through her skull, “You… but why?”

“If Terhil has gorged himself upon arcane sacrifices to empower himself, having a psyker at your side could prove invaluable.”

“And extremely dangerous! You would have to sit atop Alekto.” Quipped Zareen.

“Correct… but the Emperor protects does he not?” Lilith flashed a faint smile at her Knight—an understanding of the risks but against Terhil, they needed anything…

“That he does…” followed the pilot, Her fingers clenched around the broken rosette in her pocket—still whispering, still lying.

“Alright then if anyone else has questions?”

“What about Reeta?” asked Gastel, bringing up an important unknown factor.

“A wild card. Based of Zareen’s testimony she hates him. But hate makes Chaos knights unpredictable—today an ally, tomorrow a greater threat. A lot will depend on that relationship straining further and further.”

“We’re hoping a heretic sees the light…?” scoffed Talleia.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re the boss anyways. If you think this is the best course of action.” Followed the Captain, Gastel nodded along.

“Believe me, I don’t intend on dying. We will succeed, we will slay the alpha. If not us, then who else.”

---

As Zareen entered her room after having spent the past three hours at the training ring, punching and kicking servitors into lifeless pieces of scrap, she noticed a peculiar yet familiar smell.

“Hey little Knight.” A soft voice emerged from the darkness, and as Zareen flipped the lumen switch, Phoebe appeared, sitting on the bed.

“I thought these rooms were private.” Responded the tired pilot, moving towards the room’s bathroom to wipe away sweat and machine oil.

“Do you not remember…?”

Zareen closed the door giving herself privacy as she disrobed and entered the warm shower. “That you’ve intruded into my quarters before? No, I’m sorry.”

“Oh… That’s heartbreaking…” she muttered under her breath.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY? I DIDN’T HEAR!” yelled the showering pilot.

“Nothing! It was nothing.”

“If you say so! But, why are you here?”

“I have my reasons—but I prefer if we spoke face to face.”

“I’ll be quick then!” As she picked up pace, quickly applying cleansing oils and washing herself a final time. With the water now off, she wrapped herself in a towel and opened the door. “What is it? Having second thoughts about your incredibly dangerous plan?”

Lilith took a second to refocus her thoughts, the bare figure of Zareen, covered only in a towel—between love and attention for those scars… “Uhm- yes, well no sorry-“

“In low gothic please.”

Phoebe took one deep breathe. “I just want to be sure you feel alright with this. I do believe in you, that you will be able to destroy Terhil once and for all but I am afraid what it might cost. If the warp has morphed you to improve your skills, then—what will it take to defeat one such as him.”

Zareen took a seat beside the psyker, silent at first. “I don’t know honestly. I don’t know how powerful he has gotten, for all we know he’s a daemon prince by now.”

“Then… promise me one thing; You will not cross the event horizon.”

“I-“ The pilot looked down, unsure how to respond at first. “You’d rather I live and the galaxy burns?”

“N-no… Of course we must do everything in our power to stop that monster. And yet, I find myself feeling another primary… I won’t lose you. Not to him. Not to the warp”

Zareen fell backwards onto the bed, staring at the empty ceiling safe for the single lumen. “Terhil made me an offer.”

“He what?”

“When I was in medical…  I had a nightmare, he came to talk to me. Spoke of how he no longer sought Alekto, that I could live beside him… with you.”

“Of course that snake is going to try and seduce you.”

“I… that was not all. He also mentioned you were fated to die at the end.”

The words took Lilith aback. Her own death? Predicted? Impossible… “Since when can that fool read time.” She scoffed, trying to ease her rising heartbeat.

“Evidently he has grown… he… gave me something as proof.”

Zareen got up and grabbed the rosette from her discarded pants, before bringing it to its present twin.

“This…!” Phoebe gripped her own, studying the one in the pilot’s hand. Tried as she could, it was an almost exact copy—safe for the broken piece. “How is this possible?” 

“I don’t know. If it is a copy, it is perfect.” 

“Its more than perfect… I can feel its exactitude, It’s my rosette,” Lilith whispered. “But it smells of my blood—blood I haven’t spilled yet.”

“I- am not sure what to make of it.”

“Fate is never set in stone.” Her voice had changed, becoming deeper and more confident. We might be facing a underling of the Changer of Ways, we might be facing fate itself… but we will not fail.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have once seen them, the strings of destiny. Fate is a noose—but we hold the blade.”

“Another forgotten memory?”

“No… my past. You know of Baarneas correct?”

“Your past mentor yes, and that he met an unfortunate demise at your hands.”

“Baarneas was what we call a radical in the Inquisition—the ends justify the means. Except as is tradition, if one spends too much time in the dark, the dark swallows them.”

“He became a heretic.”

“Not quite, he still believed in the Imperium… but through twisted lenses. His own hubris made him believe he was still ahead of the corruption, that he was in control. I trusted in his judgment until the very end, he was… my adoptive father after all. I followed his example and blinded myself to the horrors that became commonplace until it reached a breaking point. He had spent months working on a device, fed by mortal souls it was a glass that could peer into the strings of time. Baarneas wished to master time itself. Once activated, the room darkened as illuminated paths appeared, each a possible fate. It is then that I finally saw the path he wished to take—I can still smell the carnage, charred flesh, boiling blood, crushed organs… That was the path Baarneas chose. That is when I realized how far gone the man I trusted the most had become, that is when I killed him.”

“Throne…”

“The point is that Baarneas’ fate meant for him to live and sow death upon our galaxy, and I cut that string short. So if Terhil says fate had decided my death is soon, then I shall rage against it until it is no longer. And odds are the person that is supposed to end my life is Terhil, making our quest concise and clear.

“Mhm I hope so…”

“Trust me, I don’t intend on dying any time soon. There is far too much work for me here, I cannot die.” Phoebe flashed a smile with a slight chuckle. “And—there is someone I cannot abandon” As she enveloped Zareen’s scarred hand with hers.

“I— I don’t— I’m not—“ Part of her wanted to remember. Part of her feared what those memories might cost.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that… I got carried away. You do not see it that way…” Lilith took back her hand, a tear sliding down her immaculate face.

Zareen remained silent, staring at her own hands.

“I’m sorry, this was all a mistake—“ As she got up from the bed, a hand caught hers.

“Stay.”

Phoebe turned around, facing the sitting woman. “B-but—”

“I might not have every memory of our time together… but I still feel an attraction for you.”

“Your feelings come from your pledge to me though—“

Suddenly, still holding onto Lilith’s hand, Zareen pulled her closer until she fell onto the bed, laying over the naked pilot, the towel having fallen away. She pulled again, bringing their warm faces closer and closer until lips touched once more for a brief instant.

“Does a Knight normally kiss their Lady naked?” added Zareen, amber eyes sparkling with a bouquet of emotions.

The message was crystal clear in the psyker’s mind. Every barrier that had been erected around Phoebe’s soul fell apart in an instant, every lesson from her mentor, every experience—all void as a single raw emotion poured outwards: Love.

A full hour hour of biting lips, claw marks on pale skin, and warp-scarred hands tangled in void black hair passed.

As both women lay in bed, resting upon each other’s bodes, Lilith took her hand and pressed it against Zareen’s, her gentle frail hand contrasting the scarred flesh that ended in sharp talons.

“What passes through your mind?”

Phoebe sighed, for such a moment to be broken by reality: “Even with Rorkon dead. Your… differences have not gone unnoticed. I said I was responsible for you, the expectation for you is imprisonment or exorcism, better known as death…”

“But can’t they see I am completely lucid? Yes I may have physical aspects aligned with the warp but I am still human!”

“You need not convince me, and I’m afraid the others are much less understanding—even Abahim cannot protect you.”

“I- see.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, I will never let those wolves hurt you again, Nor will I succumb to their accusations and turn on you.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I still worry for your position, or even yourself. Will you be called a heretic once more?”

“Most likely, even with that pathetic fool dead. Nevertheless, I have let my record speak for itself, if we can take out Terhil then I believe you will be left alone.”

“And we can live happily ever after?” Zareen chuckled at the notion.

“Yes, we can.” Lilith leaned forwards and kissed the woman before her. “We’ll burn for the Imperium together”

“You should probably cut down on the dammassine, you still taste of it.”

“It helps calm my nerves. It isn’t simply a pleasure drink.”

‘Still I’d rather you don’t rely on medicine to keep your body intact.”

“Fine, once we’re done with this case, I’ll try and cut down on it, but in exchange you’ll be my stress ball.”

“Sounds like a win-win.” They laughed in unison, gentle souls enjoying the pleasures of life in the darkness of hell.

“But” continued Zareen “It is time to rest, I am exhausted and we have long days ahead.” She yawned at the end, to which Lilith mimicked her.

“You’re right, I don’t want to wake up a disheveled corpse. Sleep well my love.”

“Likewise my cute sweet witch.”

Phoebe scoffed at the nickname, how much they had grown since their first interactions; From yelling about her as a emotionless witch—now closer than two mortals could ever become.

They both slid under the bed sheets, and still embracing each other they fell in deep slumber. As they slept, Zareen’s scar pulsed—not with pain, but in sync with Lilith’s heartbeat. 

Somewhere, in the warp, something laughed.

---

A loud curse suddenly woke Zareen up. She rolled over to catch sight of Lilith, hastily putting her clothes back on. The scent of the psyker’s Dammassine still clung to her skin—cloying and floral, like a perfume over battlefield rot.

“G-good morning.” She began with a yawn. “Late to something?”

“Oh you’re awake, I apologize if I made too much noise.” Slipping into her synthsuit, both feet at once. “I have a meeting with one of the regimental commanders in less than ten minutes. I hope you won’t mind me running off.”

Batal stretched, her warp-amber eyes catching the light like dirty promethium.. “I might forgive you—if I get a goodbye kiss.”

Putting her coat swiftly, she leaned towards the bed before embracing her lover’s lips with hers. “Alright now I really must leave, take care love.” Running out of the room as she grabbed her rosette.

The now lonely woman returned under the warm bedsheets before she too was greeted by the memory of duty, having promised to initiate in sparring with Gastel. Just as the Inquisitor did before her, she hastily robed herself in active wear and ran out.

“Since when is my pupil ever late?” The militarum’s voice erupted her from beside the door frame as she entered. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a slight frown. To Gastel’ side stood Sasin and Talleia, unexpected guests.

“I’m terribly sorry, I was caught up in work and didn’t see the time!”

“Uh huh. ‘Work.’” His nose wrinkled. “Smells like paperwork in here.” Sniffing the newly arrived air, he easily recognized a distinct inquisitorial smell.

She ran into the ring after placing her belongings by the side, performed rapid stretches, and then brought her hands up in a fighting form.

“Ready whenever you are old man!”

Gastel followed, sighing at the warrior’s eagerness. “3… 2… 1… go.”

Zareen rushed forward first, Gastel barely parried her leading jab before a sweeping kick forced him to sidestep.

“Better,” he grunted, swiping at her ribs with a hooked arm. She ducked low and spun out, her hair whipping behind her like a comet’s tail.

“Still a little slow on the follow-through,” he taunted, smiling.

“Still a little old,” she answered, grinning through her guard.

She closed in again, this time feinting high before launching a brutal elbow to his sternum. He stumbled, but countered with a knee that caught her flank—enough to knock the breath out of her.

“Knock his teeth out, Zee! I’ve got five aquilas on you!” yelled Talleia, almost ready to enter the ring herself.

A mechadendrite snapped “Cortical readings: unnatural serotonin levels. As if externally influenced..” Sasin’s words were filled with investigative curiosity.

“You think she’s different? I suppose she looks more confident… energetic? That was the point of their sparring anyways, relieve some tension before the big day.”

“010001 1101010 000110 010100 010110 111110, preliminary scans showed abnormally low levels of stress.” The Magos brought her mechanical hand to her face, as if scratching where her chin had once been.

“That’s good though no?”

“Yes, but curious. Query: Warp interference?”

“Does it really matter? I love my gossip but right now I think she deserves to bask in anything that can keep her mind steady.”

“I suppose you are correct. As we must all do the same, the coming days will be shadowed in darkness the likes of which we have no seen before.”

“Grim… but yes, so let’s enjoy Gastel getting his gut punched in! Go Zee! Show him who’s the real deal!”

This time Zareen was quicker—far too quick. She dropped low and swept Gastel’s legs clean out from under him. He hit the mat with a thud that echoed like a bolt pistol crack.

Zareen, panting heavily, walked over to help Gastel back to his feet. “Good match old man!” As she smiled at him, her warp-sharpened teeth glinted—predator’s teeth.

The man felt his fight of flight reactions flare up at the figure before him before shaking them away. For one frozen second, he didn’t see his pupil—just Terhil’s smile reflected in those sharpened canines. No, it was Zareen, not a monster. “I might need to retire soon!” He smiled back.

“LETS GO ZEE, THATS 5 AQUILAS FOR ME!” yelled the Captain from across the room, clearly happier to have won her bet than Zareen’s own performance.

“Yeah yeah…” scoffed Gastel.

“A remarkable fight to both of you, my emotional storage banks are brimming with excitement at the back and forth!” From the side, Sasin’s mechadendrites quivered, recording data. “Fascinating. Coordination, speed, aggression—all enhanced. Your musculature has adapted far faster than baseline projections.”

“Translation: Zee’s a badass,” said Talleia.

“Thanks, but really Gastel deserves all the praise, without him I would still be a fool wailing my arms.”

“You’re underestimating yourself.” Answered the militarum man. “I might’ve taught you a thing or two but you’ve excelled beyond all expectations, you’re a real monst—“ He paused, realizing the implications. “Sorry, no I didn’t mean to—“

“Its fine Gastel, don’t worry about it…” Zareen brought a hand to upwards, staring at its features: a battlefield atlas of regenerated flesh, faint glowing blue veins, nails now sharpened talons…

An awkward silence reigned.

Finally Talleia attempted a subject swap. “Big day in two huh?”

“Mhm” mumbled Gastel.

“Can’t say I’m looking forward to it—but the sooner its over, the better.” Answered Zareen, trying to remain level headed and positive at her impending challenge.

“I won’t argue with that. We should do something big afterwards—a party!” continued the Captain.

“I don’t mean to be a killjoy on this but…”

“Shut it Gastel.”

“Last time we suggested a party, Zareen returned…”

“I said shut it…”

“Phoebe was clear on this, it won’t be easy. We’re looking at the most dangerous battle in our lives—it would not be the first time tha—“

“SHUT UP FOR THRONE’S SAKE!” roared Talleia, crystal beads beginning to streak down her face. “I know! Every mission we might end up joining Herculaar! His corpse still orbits that damned planet! I karking know… Of course I know our lives hang in the balance…”

Once again, the silence was crushing. Their safety was far from guaranteed—especially Phoebe and Zareen’s, having to face the beast himself. After Herculaar’s loss and Batal’s near death with her shoulder wound, each member’s fragility was crystal clear to all.

“How about instead we do a party the day before?” opened Zareen.

“B-before?” words leaving the Captain’s mouth through sniffles.

“If the future is uncertain, we might as well make tomorrow the night of our lives.”

“One final hooray before the storm… I like that, we should do this.” Answered Gastel, dread slowly leaving his body.

“A party would certainly improve everyone’s serotonin—and their hope. I agree.” Mechadendrites twirling around the techpriest in gleeful approval.

“Hmm, would need to convince Phoebe though…” wiping away her tears.

“I’ll convince her, we’ll get our night.” Smiled Zareen, reminiscing at her newfound lover while trying to avoid any obvious tells.

“Perfect, I’ll convince Mr emotionless grumpy.” Continued Talleia, with renewed excitement.

Laughter like gunfire returned—bright, brief, doomed. Bonds forged in trauma, deeper than blood tied them together, and together they would have to face death itself. As they celebrated, Zareen’s scar pulsed twice then fell silent. Somewhere in the void, Voltstina’s bloated form twitched.

---

Zareen sat on the gilded desk of the Inquisitor’s grand room, her bosom having displaced old dataslates—dangerously heretical were it not for roaming emotions. Phoebe leaned against the wall beside the pilot, silently hearing.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t take much effort! Its not some extravagant ball, just a bunch of old friends laughing over amasec.”

“Right upon the final hour when everyone should be at tightest.”

“Do you want people to die of anxiety? It’ll be important for moral. Come on Lil, its just a party.”

Phoebe sighed longly before finally giving her verdict. “Fine, I’ll allow a gathering at the mess hall… but only upon the explicit guarantee my crew won’t let themselves go before the biggest day of their lives.”

“You have my word, thanks love!” Zareen leaped from the table to embrace Phoebe, at which point the door’s mechanism’s screeched its alarm followed by the vox waking up.

“Lady Phoebe, we have received an unknown communique originating from Archenemy controlled space, it is specifically addressed to you my Lady.”

Hurriedly both women separated as the once professional Inquisitor rapidly readjusted herself. “You may enter.”

The large door hissed open revealing a out of breath crewman, not older than twenty cycles, carrying a dataslate with bold red gothic upon it. “My Lady!” The man quickly bowed and presented his possession.

Lilith strode towards the entrance and grabbed onto the curious item, her sight stern and piercing as it sent shivers down the man’s spine, likely his first time in presence of the Inquisitor. “You are dismissed.”

“Yes my Lady!” In an instant he was gone, running back to his distant superior across cold empty corridors.

Phoebe studied the dataslate briefly before turning back and sitting at her desk.

“Terhil?” asked Zareen, who else could be trying to contact them? Could it be another scheme, or a trap?

“Unclear. Now let’s see:” The psyker began reading aloud the mysterious message.

“Addressed to Inquisitor Phoebe’s eyes only.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind an extra pair…” chuckled nervously Zareen, Phoebe simply looked at her amber eyes and continued reading.

“To begin, this message is not an elaborate plan to trap you, nor is it another traitorous plea for your cooperation—I seek only to inform.

My name is Reeta Nassek, Hammer to the Throne, to Antonius Myrlaugur.

Ever since recent developments aided by your own hand, with Terhil as our newest and final monarch, House Valenmour is naught but a mockery of its legacy. Our people are nothing more than food for the slaughter, our Knights reduced to barbaric beasts that seek only their next meal, the Gods themselves laugh at our hollowed halls. We are nothing more than blind wolves led by a madman too fattened by his own power that he cannot see the cockroaches at his feet. Blight has taken our House, its corruption far too deep to uproot—the only solution is extermination. I do not serve a twisted fool. I am Reeta Nassek, Knight to Antonius Myrlaugur and in my final act to his name, I will tear off that bloated sneer from Terhil’s face.

As you are no doubt aware, our fleet will arrive upon Reo upon the day after morrow. We have observed a considerable build-up of forces upon these waters, they will not suffice. Terhil is not the man you faced prior, he has grown considerably, becoming a grotesque mass of flesh and treachery. His repugnance should not be underestimated however, Terhil has become more dangerous than any foe you will face in your pitiful existence. He is infatuated with his own ego, if played correctly it may be his downfall. Voltstina has equally been modified to fit our carcass of a monarch, this has lead to several vulnerabilities you may exploit during battle, I attached detailed schematics below.

If you seek to truly fight for your corpse god, you will require every tool at your disposal, whatever it may be, whatever the cost. I will pour mind, body, and soul into burning away the stain he has become, but should I fail—do not. May our ancestors smile upon us for this act of righteous treason.

And should you find my corpse, know I died smiling—for at least the roaches will feast on royal flesh that night.”

With the last of Reeta’s letter, Zareen stared at Lilith, her expression portraying unease and uncertainty.

“You think this is another ploy?” asked the psyker, leaning back into her chair after having placed the dataslate before her.

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Yet your testimony spoke of her hatred?”

“You’re right… but still.”

“We need not trust her admission of treason—her warning and revelations will have to suffice.”

“The safest option, I agree. As for Voltstina’s supposed vulnerabilities…”

“I will send this to Bel, he will be able to determine the veracity of these findings. This could prove invaluable.”

“I won’t say no to any help—I just hope its real, we already have enough to worry about. I-“ Zareen’s voice began to crackle. “I’m…”

Lilith stood up from her chair and embraced the shivering woman. The pilot continued. “Honestly I’m terrified, everyone is making Terhil out to be this demi-god. Despite everything, will I ever be capable of standing my ground against him?”

“Calm yourself Love.” Phoebe’s aura chilled the air like a winter shrine, yet Zareen only felt warmth where their bodies touched—an island of calm in the coming storm. “You have prepared yourself more than all of us combined, your skill puts Bellegymere’s simulations to shame, and determination feeds through your veins. You can do this.”

“What if it isn’t enough?” The pilot’s gripped tightened on the black coat, talons almost tearing into the durable composite fabric.

“Then I will be there, by your side, dragging you to victory if I must.”

Zareen left the embrace, looking directly into the Inquisitor’s lightning blue eyes, tears already squished against her face, like rain on a battlefield.

Phoebe continued. “And you are my Knight, no foe is out of your blade’s reach.” As she wiped away the woman’s tears with her tender frail hand.

A faint smile emerged from under the storm. “Except maybe my Dammassine stash.”

Zareen suddenly scoffed and began chuckling, the smile now etched onto her lips. “I’ve laid myself upon your nether regions but your secret stash is too much?”

“Hey, no vulgarities in an Inquisitor’s office!” Snickered Lilith.

“But you’re right, I can do this—no , we can do this.”

“There’s my little Knight, armed and ready.”

“Always and forever.”

Smiles plastered upon their faces, the young couple continued snickering and laughing over past and crude stories, a needed breather from the incoming storm—where laughs continued, maws full of flesh and guts, blood spilling onto the cosmos.

---

Curious music boomed into the corridor as Zareen approached the half-open door. As she entered, a veritable sea of bodies awaited the pilot—evidently the crew was invited as well.

“Over here Zee!” yelled a voice from across the room, it was Talleia, already a near empty glass in hand.
She walked over to greet her friends, every member of their doomed retinue stood by the room’s starboard side. Even despite the relaxed atmosphere, Phoebe still wore her inquisitorial attire, hair neatly tied and frail hands encompassing a unique glass with its own personal delicacy.

“I was expecting something a little more… personal?” Quipped Zareen, briefly glancing at the hundreds of souls.

“A certain someone could not keep their mouth closed / our captain found it amusing to promise this ‘party’ to every fleshbag she came across.” Answered the Magos Errant, mechadendrites snapping towards Talleia.

“Its not a party if its just us six gloomy souls! And we had an extra shipment of amasec to get through.” She added with a smile breaking from cheek to cheek.

“We did offer to move but Bel also said that would be a ‘waste of time’.” Continued Sableshank.

“Merely maximizing crew distraction / Studies show favorable results when human are able to relax before considerable events.”

“I believe what my brethren are trying to say is—welcome to the party Zareen.” Added Sasin, with a glass in hand, despite not being able to drink it she enjoyed playing the part.

“Thank you everyone—but is there anything else than amasec?” She responded, glancing around hoping for an alternative.

“I’m afraid not kiddo, you either finally embrace the poiso—“ Phoebe cut the militarum man off unexpectedly.

“You can have my glass, I can get more later.”

“My savior!” Exclaimed Zareen, grabbing the psyker’s unnaturally ice cold glass filled with its exquisite Dammassine.

Every other member remained dumbfounded at the rare display, for Lilith to share her most prized possession.

The ship’s captain eventually broke the silence. “By the Emperor, Gastel tell me I’m not dreaming.”
“I think— she’s possessed.” He added.

“Throne you two, it’s just a drink.” Quipped the Phoebe, employing damage control measures before Talleia dug deeper.

“Just a drink?!”

‘Too late’

“It is no mere liquid! It is the nectar of gods! The very essence of life in physical form! For you to part with such a delicacy must only mean one thing!”

‘Emperor save me’

“Your taste buds have finally changed!”

“Pardon?”

“No I’m kidding, it means you two are—“ but before Talleia’s mouth exhaled her doom, Sableshank quickly brought his hand to muffle the woman.

“That’s enough of that.” Awkwardly chuckled Gastel, keeping the captain’s thoughts private. “How about we swap topics to something more interesting eh? Like what expects us after this foray?”

“After the Valenmour case? Well there are certainly many loose ends to tie before I can put my seal onto the final report. That being said, I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery…”

“Change of scenery, are you quitting?” asked Zareen, well aware of the finality of an Inquisitor’s duty.
“Nothing of the sort, merely thinking about moving eastwards, perhaps aid with the Cicatrix Maledictum.”

“Eastwards? Avoiding Terra?”

“Exactly my plan, escape from the ever watchful gaze of our God.” She sneered lightly, basking in the heresy for amusement. “Not quite though, rather avoiding the Ordo, even with Rorkon gone, I’ve already received far too many complaints and unsolicited advice from colleagues… Perhaps out in the middle of nowhere, they might finally find another poor soul to prey upon.”

“Well wherever you go, we follow.” Continued the pilot with a cheerful smile, a Knight’s duty was everlasting.

“What about trying to cross into Imperium Nihilus? Might be more peaceful there?” added Gastel.
“If by more peaceful you mean a daemon infested hellscape where even His Light does not shine.” Quickly responded Sasin.

“Rah that’s a normal day with the guard!”

“[Fool] You might as well jump into the Eye itself.”

“What’s that saying? You can’t hate it till you’ve tried it?”

“I can try throwing you into an industrial incinerator if you wish.”

“Point taken.” He added with a laugh.

“Before you want to start daemon diving, you can at least make tomorrow a resounding victory!” Interjected a well inebriated Talleia.

“Worry not my dear Captain, with our available forces, it’ll be like the Great Crusade once again. We even have a regiment of Catachans!”

“Didn’t the Great Crusade end in treachery?” Added Zareen.

“No need to get stuck in the details, how about you focus on your horsey.” Gastel chuckled back.

“My horsey is Alekto and he is the steed to the ever loyal Knight of Lady Phoebe, sir.”

“And a damn good one at that!” Easily dismantling any slight he might have caused in his drunken banter. “Terhil, that bastard won’t last a minute against you!” The words rang hollow. They both knew Terhil had already lasted far longer in Zareen’s nightmares.

“That… we’ll see” Her fingers spasmed against the glass—each tremor sending fractal cracks through the Dammassine’s frozen surface.

Reacting nigh instantly to her companion’s changing emotions, Phoebe sneakily grabbed the anxious’ woman’s hand, psychically freezing yet soothing, like a gentle breeze upon a hot sunny day. “That is the morrow anyhow, tonight is for pleasure and distraction.”

“Yes ma’am.” Finished Gastel, emptying the last of his third glass.

Worry not my Knight, let your mind rest tonight.

Lilith’s voiced echoed through the pilot’s mind, calming rising insecurities.

“Instead I could recount my valorous tales from my young charming days in the guard!” Opened once more the militarum man.

Several hours passed as crew and retinue enjoyed a brief respite in the roaring tempest they found themselves in, the eye of the storm—and yet soon the greatest rage and fire of their lifetime would wash over them. With each passing tick of the clock, more souls finally took comfort upon their own beds, leaving only a handful of crewman finishing the last of the amasec, and the retinue, minus Gastel, Talleia and Sasin, the two former requiring a special concoction to rid themselves of a deathly hangover. Bellegymere finally took his leave as well, excusing himself to continue pointless examinations of Alekto and the ship’s systems—pointless but necessary to him.

“Things are a lot quieter now…” As Zareen glanced around the near empty room before looking back at Phoebe, who once more had a glass in hand, the selfsame she had gifted earlier.

“I prefer the silence I must say.” Added the Inquisitor.

“Not a party person?”

“You could say that—mostly due to my curses, being able to sense people’s emotions might be invaluable at times, but during others… it is an endless noise. Picture yourself standing in a cathedral during Exterminatus, every scream, prayer and cracking bone at once.”

“Oh— I had no idea.”

“Worry not, I have grown used to it. Still during moments like these with hundreds, thousands of minds… It can get very tiresome.”

“Why didn’t you take up on the idea of moving elsewhere?”

“The crew, my retinue—they all deserve to see their Inquisitor participating in the final banquet. After all, is it not a regicide strategy to lead with your ruler?”

“Lilith… You put yourself through all that noise for them? That’s very sweet of you! Any accusations of being a cold witch ring hollow now, you are exceptional.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere young lady.” Phoebe chuckled back.

“Is it flattery if if I am merely making observations?”

Lilith sighed “You really are something else, Zareen.”

“I am merely a simple farmer from a backwater world with peculiar traditions so I’ve learned.”

“Right, and I’m Saint Celestine.” She laughed. “But peculiar?”

“Yes! Take for example if one reaches the age of thirty without being wed, they are to be groomed and given lavish clothes to be paraded across the city in the hopes of crossing hearts with an onlooker!”

“That is indeed peculiar. I’m glad my home wasn’t Onerth then—being past my mid-thirties…”

Zareen laughed before continuing, “Or another example, for those that undergo a by the latter traditional Onerthian wedding, the to-be wed couple must climb the two thousand stairs of our largest church.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad, a little exhausting but?”

“Except for every step, both must proclaim something they love about their other. That’s two thousand things they must say to each other!”

“Throne, that must take an eternity.”

“Several hours! I’ve only seen it once though but it was quite amusing and interesting, by the last hundred steps they resorted to complimenting the smallest of things, down to individual preferred hair strand or how their partner’s left pinky nail caught the light.”

“I can imagine but that shows incredible dedication to your significant other. Those bonds must be stronger than adamantium.”

“Definitely—although I believe I would be capable of such a feat.”

“Zareen…”

“If I can remember thousands of different battle encounters, then two thousand compliments is a breeze.”

“Zareen.”

“What?”

“I— You’re a very pretty straight forward person but… it’s been two days. I understand the initial flutter of emotions can be overwhelming but let’s take this one step at a time. Its like my Dammassine recipe, speeding through the steps might lead to a poor mix.” Phoebe grabbed the woman’s tender hand with hers, rubbing her thumb atop its scars.

“But… you’re probably right, you know more than I do. Its just—what if one of us doesn’t make it back.”

“We both will. I will make sure of it.”

“But—“

“One more but and you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

Zareen sighed before announcing defeat. “Emperor have mercy on your enemies.”

“Good, now it might be time for us to close the night. We have a very long day ahead.”

“Lead the way my Lady.”

“My room this time, no risks of distractions.” Her grip tightened on the coarse corrupted hand, dragging Zareen along.

“I—.”

“Shush and enjoy the night.” Briefly looking back at Zareen behind her with a soft wink. As they left, neither noticed the Dammassine glass—its frozen surface now webbed with cracks mirroring Zareen’s scar patterns.

---

With a detonating roar, the entire ship shook followed by the eerie sound of adamantium tearing itself apart. Zareen awoke to wailing sirens and blood-red lights. Phoebe was already up, vox pressed to her mouth.

“Report!”

The answer came directly through the room’s own mechanical mouth, clear enough for the pilot to hear. “We were ambushed by an enemy frigate exiting warp transit, they hit us before void shields were available. Port cannons three through eight are down. Decks seven and eleven have suffered severe breaches, estimated casualties are in the hundreds.” Another voice took over, the ship’s captain. “We were hit hard but we’re still afloat. Looks like intel was wrong to assume the third moon lacked any threats.

Lilith muttered a swear under her breath before thumbing onto the reply trigger. “Mission status?”

“Green. It’s only a frigate, with our shields active once more we have little to worry about—that is unless the shadows hide others.”

“An acceptable risk. Proceed with our course, and link to allied forces as soon as possible. I’ll be on my way.”

“Copy that.”

Just as quickly as everything began, Phoebe slipped into worn clothes and ran out, not before confirming with Zareen to make haste with preparations for planetfall. The pilot followed suit, dashing for the hangar to convene with Bellegymere and ready herself to embark on the journey of blood and fire.

The final dawn had arrived, rosette and steel against madness incarnate.

---