Eternity
Year ?? Day ?? :
To hide in such a realm, I applaud your creativity—and foolishness mortal. A grave mistake you have made, for these waters belong to me and mine only!
She trained her sight on the shape ahead of her, its form flickering under the ruthless crushing assault of Ag’Dresil’s psychic mind. The beast bared little resemblance with its physical form, here in the immaterium the thing that had been Khamosh was no longer a man, nor even a daemon, but a cancerous geometry of eyes and mandibles, its very presence making the warp boil away in revulsion. Yet despite what once terrified the poor girl, now was but a foe to vanquish. Her eyes a crystal clear amber sclera with deep dark pupils as they searched, studied, calculated. Her body was scarred beyond comprehension, decades fighting without end took their toll as sharpened teeth grit against the broken flesh of her lips. She tasted the trickling blood as its iron taste stabilized her inflamed soul, calming her raging mind as she focused on the abomination ahead. The pain grounded what was left of her shredded mind, forcing the pilot to reckon with the present.
MORTAL FLESH, FEED MY THRONE WITH YOUR SCREAMING SOUL!
As soon as Khamosh made his move, her hands tied to their commands like chains, reacted effortlessly as nails sharp as claws scrapped the thin layer of coating remaining. The scar on her neck throbbed with enough power to sustain a starship, its tendrils wrapped around Zareen like a second skin, feeding her the essence she needed to annihilate her opponent.
Year 0 Day 1 :
As the world around morphed from blur to green pastures dotted with majestic trees, for a heartbeat, her skin crawled with phantom insects as reality restitched itself around her. Zareen’s guts twisted inside out, vomiting black bile that hissed where it struck the cockpit floor—half-real, half-warpstuff. Her head spun uncontrollably as a nauseating presence overburdened her sensations, almost passing out on the spot.
Side effects from the translation, worry not it will pass soon enough.
“Throne! You could have warned me that my worse hangovers would barely compare to this!” As soon as she regained her breath, she locked the helmet onto its seal once again, ready to do battle—at least as much as she could while her body recuperated from the ordeal. The world around was verdant green, grass as far as the eye could see with the sky devoid of any clouds as a lone star shined above. Trees taller than Alekto were sporadically placed upon the soft ground, not dense enough to create a forest but sufficient to offer fragile cover and break line of sight. No doubt the flora was carefully crafted by Ag’Dresil to create a suitable training ground.
As soon as you are ready we may begin.
His every word reverberated upon her neck, like a symphony of power now free of its crutches in the physical realm. The pilot took long deep breaths to calm her body as it revolted against the warp, steadying her hands and focusing her sights on the world before her. The bolt canon spun to life, dry firing as the warblade’s energy generators cackled to life. Once she was confident in Alekto’s diagnostics and her capabilities, she voiced the reply that would forever change Alekto’s pilot.
“I’m ready.” Eighty years of war began with three words.
The air before her turned into darkness as light became trapped and devoured. Like ink swallowing the white purity of paper, a form appeared—a questoris Knight of no markings, no colors, no allegiance. Simply equipped with a chain cleaver and a rapid-fire battle cannon the machine charged Alekto without a second thought.
Cleaver revved and swung, ready to eat away at adamantium plates, Zareen blocked the blow with her blade, catching it by the root to leave each teeth harmlessly cutting away at nothing. Then with a brief activation of its energy circuits, the blade melted its way through the opponent’s servos, removing the weapon entirely. Alekto’s left flank burst briefly into fire and smoke as the battle cannon spat shell after shell. Redirecting her ion shield, she caught each subsequent round as they exploded harmlessly upon her energy barrier.
“Is that all you have? Far too easy.” She smirked, adrenaline corrupting her reason as she swung again, slicing the remaining weapon in two. Continuing her assault, Zareen danced the blade, cutting off the machina’s remnants of its arms before finishing the Knight with a swift thrust into its cockpit, silencing the created pilot inside.
Ag’Dresil said nothing, instead another machine blinked into existence, identical the previous one. Charging in the exact same manner, she prepared herself to catch the blade once again. The enemy’s movements did not change and thus Zareen dispatched the Knight just as she previously did.
Another appeared as it continued mimicking its predecessor, again and again. By the ninth opponent, she prepared the warblade to catch the cleaver, scoffing at how much the spirit had underestimated her. As the Knight began its swing, chain cleaver barking, it shifted its weight onto the right foot, deviating the trajectory and crashing into the warblade invaluable hilt. Teeth ate away with such ferocity that it only took an instant for it to sever the weapon from Zareen’s hand. She felt her wrist burning as pain shot through her, screens flickering in response to the damage. The warpspawn Knight continued firing its battle cannon into Alekto as Batal desperately tried blocking each shell, when suddenly she felt the cleaver’s rumbling tear at her as the cockpit’s walls cracked, revealing hungry teeth chewing until they reached flesh and tore the woman apart in a bloody chaos of bone and muscle. With a sudden crash of adamantium slamming into itself, she awoke back into her seat, controlling the Knight she had been given two years ago, her breath shallow, sweat dripping across her face, the air reeking of ozone.
“Emperor what was that?!”
Expecting the expected gets pilots killed.
Echoing a phrase spoken to her by a certain Inquisitor. The woman grit her teeth in frustration “No one fights like that! You only kill them once, they don’t get to learn!” she roared.
Would it have been different had changed its appearance each time? Or did you get carried away in your own adrenaline child?
The pilot did no answer, feeling the weight of the Griffin’s words, realizing there was much to learn.
Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer, child.
“I’m not a child. Spare me the proverbs and spawn another one.”
Only children run into again and again into a problem thinking results will be different if they simply hit harder.
Well I’m not a child! I can do this, this time I know they can change attacks.
Child, you are not listening. This isn’t about learning patterns and expecting variances—we are here to learn how to fight, regardless of foe, regardless of if you’ve fought them a million times or if this is the first time! Open your mind instead of diving headfirst, visualize your strengths and limitations. Know yourself first and foremost.
Her grip on Alekto’s controls tightened to the point bones creaked. She felt humiliated, nothing more than the innocent lost soul that escaped Onerth, still a child.
Let your anger fuel you lest it control you. Channel it, use it to power every step you take.
“Then how?! What do you want me to do? Spouting fancy dogma will get me nowhere…”
You have played Regicide have you not?
“Not exactly… I never got very far, everyone seemingly had a inherent advantage over me when all I could do was play like a drunken fool that didn’t understand their piec-“ suddenly words clicked in her mind, she was the drunken fool—expecting different results as she thrashed her pawns—her weapons around without a clear strategy, instead only relying on instinct and reactions.
Do you now understand? Spoke the Machine Spirit, sensing the realization in her soul.
“All I understand is I’m grossly incompetent…”
Let us commence from the lowest point. What is the simplest piece?
“The citizen, they act as shields for more important pieces while also blocking the opponent.”
Good, now see yourself as a citizen in battle, what are you?
Zareen closed her eyes, trying to picture what battlefield that the circular board could represent. She saw herself next to uncountable legions of others, standing shoulder to shoulder as they faced down the opposing force.
“I’m just another cog in the wheel, others like me flank my left and my right. None of us wearing more than the most basic of protection, some wield spears, axes, tridents, swor-“
But how do you feel?
“I feel disposable, another pawn in someone’s game.”
That is Zareen speaking but how does your citizen self feel!
“I- I feel… small but part of something bigger. I feel my role as a shield that will give myself to create an opportunity for those with real power. I feel my weakness as an individual but also the strength my brothers and sisters give me. Through them we are both a wall and a spear.”
Good, now embrace those feelings. Digest that devotion to those above, the drive that makes you walk towards the deepest hells to satisfy your master’s orders. Feel it flow into your blood as your forefathers did.
“I still don’t see how this will hel-“
Focus! Divert every fiber of your being into that role. You are your lord’s shield and you are their spear.
Zareen continued, trying to picture that dynamic. Peasant and Lord, citizen and Lord, guard and Lord, Knight and Lord. Her grip on the controls loosened, fingers unconsciously forming the sign of the aquila – not as a pilot, but as an infantryman might before the charge.
Now open your eyes quickly, fight!
As her vision returned, there charged a Knight, that same machine that tore into her guts only moments ago. Behind it lay another, a scrapyard of adamantium, a Dominus pattern Knight—her Monarch. Diagnostics revealed the downed machina had not been slain, only brutally wounded—her Monarch.
The scar on her neck pulsed with anger, rage, blood lust for the creature that dared touch her Monarch. As vengeance coursed through her veins, she lashed out to meet the behemoth head-on, forcing it to abandon its charge as the warblade thrust perilously close to vital systems. Not content with putting her foe on its back foot, she continued pummeling into it, bolt cannon emptying its reserves as energy barriers buckled letting exposed servos take a unsustainable beating. Sparks exploded onto both Knights as circuits gave in, the enemy’s own lifeblood overloading.
The warpspawn attempted to retaliate with a blow of its own, chain cleaver revved to its maximum as it swung at Alekto. Zareen sacrificed the blade’s pitch controls as teeth tore into giant pistons, yet the move allowed her to thrust into the cleaver’s internals as machine oil boiled and motors melted into place. With one of its weapons now no more than a beating stick, she piled onto the remaining armament, slamming her own bolt weapon into the battle cannon as it veered off course, firing harmlessly into the empty sky, shells igniting like stars as they reached maximum fuse range.
With its only remaining pin mounted stubber, the enemy Knight shot with pointless anguish as Zareen’s blade thrust deep into the enemy’s chassis, boiling the pilot in their restraints.
As the Knight fell under its own weight, it vaporized into a cloud of darkness, like ink underwater until it was no more, the fallen Dominus followed as Batal regained her senses, her rage subsiding.
Congratulations, you have completed the first lesson. You’ve surpassed yourself child.
“I’m not- I don’t know what overtook me… It felt like every muscle in my body roared at that Knight, duty bound to defend a Lord I did not know.”
Is that not the essence of knighthood? You are sworn to their existence, your every action aimed at serving them.
“I suppose so… but I don’t exactly have a Lord.”
Do you not? It seemed like you followed every directive that Inquisitor gave you, she might not be royalty but you are sworn in her service are you not?
“That’s true… I’ve joked about it, being her Knight but-“
Your heart speaks of it every waking moment child, you do not follow her out of dogma, blind devotion or duty to institution—but out of mutual trust and affection. What closer bond is there than that of love?
She did not answer directly, instead seeking solace inside. Yes she followed Phoebe’s every order, she trusted the Inquisitor’s judgment—that every decision is born out of duty to safe-keep the Imperium. What she had not felt was a Knight’s compulsion, the connection, the link who’s chains rival the Emperor’s own armor. Why she asked herself—why maintain that boundary? Was she afraid of such commitment? Afraid of pledging soul and body to someone? Perhaps… What if she was betrayed? If she no longer trusted in their reason? Or what if they perished, what then? Would her heart be torn asunder as it did back on her homeworld? Maybe…
I sense you unease child, pray tell what aches you?
“First Lilith and now you, who else can sense my emotions?” wheezing lightly as she tried calming her mind. “But its this bond… to give mind, body, and soul to someone… I don’t know.”
Your words carry many lies towards oneself I have noticed.
“What?”
You are unsure of deepening your bond yet your heart yearns for more. Your purpose was singular only a night ago, did you not spend the night fluttering upon your bed at impossible prospects?
“I thought this was about honing my piloting skills…”
Again, you deviate from truth.
“Fine! Yes! What can I say… I’ve never felt such a connection to someone—at least outside of my family. She seemingly knows every string to pluck that will make me starved for more…” The scar on her neck pulsed warmer than where Lilith’s lips had once brushed hers.
Yet you do not doubt her intentions? You’ve said it yourself that it might all be a ploy to bring you under her heel.
“At first yes, I was not able to discern who was the real Lilith, cold calculating and ruthless agent of the Throne or the tender, vulnerable woman laughed when I asked why there was a floating skull roaming around. Now I know who lies underneath the rosette.”
Then you have answered your own questions child. Your own heart has given it to you.
The Inquisitor’s name rested upon her lips—someone she could give everything to, someone she would serve as Knights of old served grand Kings, as her ancestors did for centuries, as her father once did.
“I need to think this over more…”
Delay as much as you wish child, for an eternity awaits you here.
Year 0 Day 6 :
The ammunition stored in Alekto’s lower back rematerialized itself, broken servos remade anew, armor plates reforged to a shining gleam as warp energy appeared to boil off the regenerating Knight. Her left hand cooled as the selfsame energy dissipated, leaving a healthy member of flesh, bone and skin to be used anew. The regenerated hand sometimes flickered – for half a heartbeat – into the skeletal claw that had failed its last parry.
Zareen had ditched her personal armor for comfort as it has been over a hundred and forty hours since she’d begun her training, instead simple wearing a Astra miliatarum green tank top and dark track pants. The lighter wear also helped with the sweat as Alekto’s cockpit reached dangerously high temperatures during exceptional strain—but it also exposed every new scar that appeared when Ag’Dresil remade her. Each mark a failure, and a lesson she had to learn through fire. The latticework of silvered scars across her ribs mapped every cleaver strike that had found her heart. The process itself was painful for every wound was real. There was no electro-shock when a chainblade tore through her, unlike Bellegymere’s simulations, every drop of blood spilled was hers, every death was visceral. Being boiled alive was not an experience she wished to live through more than once…
Despite the lack of a need for sleep and food, she still took breaks occasionally after countless hours of carnage. The quiet let the pilot refocus her mind when emotions became too heated, or to rethink her strategy, examining her failures and how to improve—but what was most important was to have time to remember her friends: She’d think back to their looks, personalities and the memories she’d shared with them. Sometimes in the quiet, she’d swear she smelled Talleia’s lavender soap or heard Gastel humming off-key battle hymns. Gripping the dog-tags that he had gifted her, Zareen swore that whatever the warp would throw at her, she would not forget them— and yet the tags grew warmer with each regeneration, their engraved numerals slowly blurring as if time itself was erasing them.
We may continue as soon as you are ready.
“Yes, you need not ask anymore, I’ll let you know when I am.” Her speech had become imperceptibly changed, mimicking Ag’Dresil’s deliberate speech for he was her only companion in the sea of souls.
Have you considered your pledge?
“I haven’t, for now I’m focused on not dying over and over.”
Then might I suggest, another lesson?
“Not yet, I want to see if I can get this one myself.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead, gripping the controls once more, readying herself to continue the bloody orchestra.
As you wish
“I’m ready.” Taking one last breath before focusing onto the pastures before her. Since her arrival some areas had dirt overturned where explosions had rocked the ground, while a few trees had been torn from their roots or split open by charging metal giants.
Four armigers blinked into existence before her, they didn’t so much appear as unfold from the air, their carapaces slick with unborn-warp residue.
Zareen readied her weapons and set off, ready to spit fire and slice adamantium.
Year 0 Day 100 :
“One hundred karking days…” she muttered, releasing the commands as a pair of of Ork Deff Dreads burned at her feet, their form flickering as they turned back into raw warp energy.
Keeping count?
“I have to, it keeps me grounded when this Emperor forsaken realm is naught but eternal sunlight.”
Would it help if I gave you a standard day cycle?
“That’s not a bad idea actually, I wouldn’t mind the change, with some clouds too.
And perhaps a counter for the days you’ve been here?
“Maybe not that… My mind would feel oppressed by its omnipresence lurking over me. And I already have enough markers…” She traced her scars with her thumb, whispering their lessons like a penitent counting rosary beads. Her fingernails had grown unnaturally hard from constant gripping – more like talons now.
As is your wish
As if the Emperor himself commanded it, the Sun began to move unnaturally across the open sky as it set itself at the current time, only a few hours before sunset. Clouds morphed like dancers sliding on ice and anchored themselves in the now darker atmosphere. The new vista brought a refreshing change to the pilot, one hundred days of sunlight had been more than enough.
“Thank you, now let us resume.”
Shadows formed in the distance, outside of her line of sight.
“What do you have in store in this time” training Alekto’s eyes on anything that moved, ion shield ready to catch any surprises.
Suddenly with a flash of light, a projectile slammed into the energy barrier as energy cackled and screeched, depleting her protection in an instant. Using the Knight’s optics, she scanned for her assailant, spotting a strange vehicle, only its turret visible from its hull down position. She recognized the devastating weapon for what it was: a railcannon. A terrifying weapon employed by a minor xenos race, also known as the Tau. Reports from the Damocles Crusade spoke of a cannon that could take out a Leman Russ in a single shot, and Alekto would be next if she did not react quickly.
Zareen dashed for the nearest grand tree, hoping its frail bark could slow down the projectile at least enough to not be lethal. The next shot cracked through the air, a solid projectile reaching speeds only rivaled by the instantaneous lasgun, as it punched through the tree it left a superheated trail of burnt cinders and ash. Once the slug reached Alekto, its speed had only been decreased by a fraction of a fraction as it slammed into adamantium armor, piercing it as if it were just as fragile as the tree before it. In the span of a millisecond, the shot traveled all the way from its barrel to Zareen’s lower torso, killing the pilot instantly.
Pain roared through her as she found herself in the cockpit once more, a familiar heat dissipating from her stomach. She absentmindedly scratched at her newest scar – a railgun entry wound that would never heal.
She wiped the sweat from her reborn face, “Emperor save me… Let’s go again.” More shots came, and each time eventually she came face to face with a railcannon projectile. So much so that she started to appreciate the xeno weapon’s sound, it had a unique melody to its shots, a welcome change from the usual bolter or lascannon fire—even if it had killed her again and again…
421 attempts later :
“I know what you’re going to say… I can feel it coming.”
We have been at this for eight hours now, there is a lesson I can teach you here.
She sighed, hating having to admit defeat she still equally understood Ag’Dresil had the combined experience of every single pilot that once sat in the Throne as she did. His knowledge was invaluable.
“Fine, more regicide today?”
Not quite, the battle of Kualas II.
“I’m not too familiar with that board game.”
541.M36, House Valenmour is tasked with aiding the 125th Cadian regiment in securing a beachhead onto a Fortress held by heretical forces.
“Wait actually I think this rings a bell, my father used to tell me all kinds of stories about our lineage. The House could only spare a single Warden pattern, the Excelsior. But against all odds, the Knight was able to push through insurmountable enemy anti-tank fire and give its surrounding guardsmen the breathing room they needed to capture and hold their objective.”
You know your history, good.
“I take it you’re going to tell me how Excelsior was able to brave such firepower and survive?”
Simple, the Knight did not survive
“What? Records show that-“
Embellishments after the fact. You should be well aware that mighty deeds are elevated beyond mortals to establish myths and legends surrounding a House.
Echoes of her father’s words leaped through her mind, he would tell stories only to reveal their lies at the end with a bright smile followed by laughter. To think even the greatest of stories might have been altered sent shivers down here spine.
“Then what happened that day? If the Knight fell how did they take the beachhead?”
Oh but they did.
“Now I don’t follow anymore.”
You’ve spent the last four hundred attempts trying to reach that Hammerhead while keeping yourself alive. The Excelsior did not put its life before the mission, nor did it think itself above the guardsmen behind it. The Knight knew should the Cadians be slaughtered, holding any ground would become impossible. Therefor it pursued the only logical course of action, Excelsior sacrificed itself, walking upon the path of hell itself to protect the infantry.
The cockpit screens flickered with ghostly Cadian faces, their silent screams matching Excelsior’s final moments.
We are Knights, we serve our Lord, and our Lord serves their people—thus we serve the men and women of the Imperium.
“You mean I should focus on taking out the xenos even if it costs me everything?”
If you mission requires it, yes. The Imperium was built upon the corpses of trillions, each a sacrifice, each another brick that forms this realm we call home.
“I-“
Art thou ready to die for the Emperor, for its citizens, for the Inquisitor?
“I am—at least I think I am.”
Then this time if you fall I will not resurrect you, this is your gambit alone.
“Wait!”
Now fight! Claim victory over an inferior xenos!
Shadows poured once more in the distance, the familiar shape of her killer, however this time things would be different. With terror in her heart, she lashed out into the open pastures, spraying the ground before her foe with bolter rounds—it had been the only tactic that appeared to have moderate success in all her deaths. Blind the xenos just enough that it could no longer aim its weapon precisely on Aletko’s weak points. As she continued her charge, shot after shot zipped by, only visible by the superheated trail the weapon left behind. Multiple hits had already been scored, none critical but still painful for the pilot.
After gruelingly long seconds trying to close gap, Zareen could finally make out more of the enemy tank’s shape, its alien design, sleek and hovering. At this range, even blinded the Tau could shoot well enough to mortally wound Alekto. A shot pierced through the central servo that linked torso with legs, luckily the Knight still stood but the projectile had continued and irreparably damaged the bolt cannon’s ammo supply and its feed mechanism. Another shot tore through the machine’s head piece, diving into the cockpit and removing Zareen’s left leg. The agony was terrible, yet she grit her teeth and forced herself through it. A lost leg is better than a dead mind. Continuing her charge, she finally reached the Hammerhead, all she needed was one last swing of her sword to silence her killer.
Just before the blade connected with the xenos, it fired one last shot in desperation, a shot that screeched through adamantium plates on one end and out the back—taking with it a large chunk of Zareen’s shoulder, the self-same part that had been wounded before. Pushing through the pain, she continued as the warblade cut into the precious advanced Tau systems, melting systems as the blade radiated its powerful energy field.
The Hammerhead finally lay silent, after four hundred and twenty two attempts—Zareen felt the essence of life escaping her body as blood poured out of open wounds.
“Ag’Dre- sil… help…” her lungs giving themselves to send out the message. “Ple- ease…” was the final word that escaped her lips as she fell silent one last time.
As peace reigned upon the warp generated pastures, the broken Knight became enveloped in glowing energy, regeneration had begun. As Zareen’s consciousness returned, her breathing was shallow, still in that terrifying moment before death.
You have died a thousand times already here, but I believe today you have finally faced the possibility of it being permanent. The Griffin’s voice carried something new – not praise, but something rarer in the warp: respect.
Her breath still stunted, “I… I think I understand now…” Her regenerated leg twitched with phantom pain – the warp remembering what her flesh had forgotten.
Good, we may continue as soon as you are ready.
Year 1 Day 16 :
Serenity filled the cockpit, Zareen sat upon the throne, the fingers of her hands interlocked in prayer, repeating four words every few seconds: Memento Machina Cor Imperium. Remember the Machine, the Heart, the Imperium, a prayer to those she had left behind. Once she was done, she gripped the tags around her neck, remaining silent until she was satisfied their memories remained.
“I’m ready.”
Hast thou thought of your pledge?
“No…”
You cannot run from it forever. The sooner you accept, the easier your future trials will be.
“I’m doing fine on my own. I’ve made it this far have I not?”
A year has passed and your skills still pale in comparison to Terhil’s. At this rate the stars will have consumed themselves before you are ready.
“Really? Personally I think I’ve improved immensely, if I could fight Apsinthaeus again I would crush him. Terhil’s can’t be that far above him.”
As you wish.
A familiar knight tore itself into existence, as its claw scrapped the very fabric of warpspace. Its armor a glistening blue with silver accents, insignia marking it as Volstina, Terhil’s fearsome Knight. Standing only a few hundred meters away, the giant stood still, its stoicism betrayed by the vox blaring to life: “Is that Lady Batal? You’ve brought yourself to me! How generous of you, now let us dance in this final act of carnage!”
“Die you karking traitor!” yelled back the woman, war horns blaring aggressively.
Both leviathans charged each other, the slower Volstina take precaution to avoid sudden attacks from Zareen’s warblade. As she opened fire with the bolt cannon in the hopes of consuming precious attention from her opponent, Alekto swung its blade, crashing into the barrier as sparks poured outwards from energy fields intersecting. Her talons scrapped the commands as she tightened her grip, fueling her hatred into forward movement as she sought to collide with Volstina, using the Knight’s weight to break the barrier. Terhil leaped backwards, letting the learning pilot tumble before him before being eviscerated by the power claw as it tore at the exposed backside.
“Kark!” she roared as her lungs were remade, giving voice to the dead once again. Even regenerated her body burned with each movement – wounds Terhil gave her last time refusing to fully heal, as if they too screamed in rage.
She spat blood. “He fights like someone who’s already won.” The realization tasted more bitter than the copper on her tongue. “I can do this, I can crush you!” With defiance in her heart, she continued her duel against the imitation of Terhil.
Year 1 Day 147
The two Knights clashed again and again—each time the same result, Zareen failing. The ground beneath them now resembled the darkest campaigns of the Astra Militarum, charred dirt was mixed with spent bolt shells as tree bark had long been burnt into charcoal. The air was filled with ashes that rose with each step of the metal giants, like fireworks celebrating the eternal carnage of machine oil and adamantium.
Her every step, every move, and every strategy was anticipated by the daemonic Knight. Despite the difference in skill, Zareen did not give in, she had been ferociously assaulting Terhil for the past hundred days almost without end. The bloodbath only ever occasionally stopped by Ag’Dresil trying to reason with the pilot.
You have nothing to prove child. I do not understand your stubbornness.
“Exactly you don’t understand so shut it!” she barked in response at she thrust her blade only to be caught into the gaping maw of Voltstina’s grotesque claw and crushed into pieces. Even with her weapon torn apart, she continued the assault until she was silenced by the massive lascannon as she had been so many times before.
The longer you maintain this foolishness, the more distant your reunion shall be.
Finally striking a chord, Zareen stopped her regenerating body and machine, already eager to return to the fight. “And if I return empty handed whats the point?” she grit her teeth, a tear sliding down her cheek at her own failure.
You have learned much in only a year but there is still so much that you lack child. You have to listen to me, forgo your emotions of vengeance, they are bringing you naught but pain.
Her iron grip finally loosened, releasing the commands that had been in operation without end for countless hours, marked by scraping from Zareen’s talons. She slouched in the Throne, wiping away the tear and sighing deeply. “I’m listening again…”
Your pledge.
Daggers pierced the woman’s heart, that which she had been avoiding, hiding from all this time, to pledge herself, mind, body and soul to someone, to Lilith Phoebe.
I hope now you understand you cannot surmount this alone. You are no Primarch, you are no Emperor. You are but a mortal in an adamantium shell.
“Yes.” She simply spoke, defeated and powerless
Well?
I’ll do it. Just give me a sec
There will be no extra seconds, no more delays, no running away from what’s in front of you. If you wish to truly train and unlock your limits then you must become Knight Zareen Batal, daughter of Gregor Batal and in service to Lady Lilith Phoebe, Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Her scar pulsed in time with Phoebe’s name – not with pain, but something warmer.
Straightening herself in the Throne, “What do I do then?”
Has your father taught you of the Knight’s pledge, the exact words spoken by Valenmour pilots undergoing their final pledge to the Crown?
“He’s told me about it but never the exact words, I’m afraid those are unknown to me.”
Then we are in luck, for I have heard them a thousand times. I will display them before your eyes, it has been slightly adapted to fit your pledge to an Inquisitor of the Throne. Repeat them carefully and with absolute conviction, you must be crystal clear of mind.
Ag’Dresil’s words echoed those spoken to her by Phoebe before their mind-link, then again this was just as personal.
Zareen took one long deep breath, grabbed the tags that dangled from her necklace and began:
“By blood and bolt, I kneel.
By the Machine God’s will and the Throne’s light,
I pledge mind, body, and soul-bound steel
To Inquisitor Lilith Phoebe, guardian of the Throne,
As my ancestors pledged to Kings of yore.
Speak the chains that bind thee.
“I vow to be thy shield against the darkness,
Thy spear against the traitor’s breast,
Thy wrath where the daemon treads.
My Knight’s heart beats with duty,
My flesh bears the scars of fealty,
My soul wears the Rosette’s weight.
What dost thou forsake?
“All hesitation. All selfish pride.
The lies of unbound freedom.
I forsake even death’s release
Until thy word releases me.”
And if thy lady’s path becomes heresy?
“Then let Alekto’s claws
Scour my name from its halls,
And the warp take what remains.”
The cockpit thrummed with a symphony of voices, echoes of the past as they propelled Zareen into eternal service. For a heartbeat, the cockpit screens showed Phoebe’s face – not as she last saw her, but as a golden-eyed saint of the Omnissiah.
“This Oath is carved in flesh and adamantium! Now and until the stars perish!”
Through the mechadendrite implanted into her neck, she felt her connection to Alekto closer than ever before, it had become more than a second skin—a symbiosis, man and machine.
Now the carnage was truly beginning.
Year 6 Day 203 :
No greenery remained of that fateful training ground, no tree still stood tall—no man’s land was an apt description of the world around her. Were the corpses to pile up, there would be a floor at least ten meters thick of metal scrap, ammunition and bloody bodies.
As the War Dogs encircled Alekto, a Knight Tyrant began its orchestra of daemonic weaponry, bringing day to the darkened night. Even outnumbered she did not let them take the upper hand, there were only thee of the smaller Knights. She trusted Alekto with the positioning of the ion shield to negate the Tyrant while she focused her attention on squashing the vermin before her. A barrage of castigator bolter fire lit up one of the beasts, sparks flew from exploding circuits as the weaker armor buckled and gave in to the sea of shells. Shifting her weight to the left, she narrowly avoided the lethal daemonbreath spear, swapping her bolter’s target to avoid repeated melta fire.
As one of the War Dogs tried taking the opening left by her movement, she emptied the hydraulic fluid in her right knee with an explosive decompression, letting the heavy adamantium leg fly straight into the charging foe, crushing its front and turning the monster inside into a bloody pulp. With a swift thrust she continued, cleanly removing the melta-equipped Knight from the battlefield as the sword melted its way through corrupted armor and vaporized crucial components. Finally she brought back the bolt cannon’s attention onto the shredded traitor armiger, finishing the encounter with another roar of thunder as explosions rocked its weakened surface, detonating the reactor.
Alekto had managed to continue adjusting the shield to minimize damage from the distant Tyrant while maintaining the barrier’s strength, Zareen trained her optics onto the abomination and made her way towards it. With its hydraulics gone, the Knight’s right leg was sluggish and required excessive force to rotate upon its axis but she did not let it deter her. Emptying the last of her ammunition as she marched onto the final foe, she hoped to deviate its aim if only slightly to buy her more time. Once she was close enough, she swung first with the now empty bolt cannon, smashing it into the Tyrant’s barrier as the weapon cracked open, spilling machine oil and loose components onto the ground. Not finished yet, every remaining ounce of power was redirected to her warblade, abandoning the ion shield in favor of offense and with one daring thrust, the sword’s overflowing energy tore open the Tyrants’s defenses. Continuing her thrust, the blade tore into the opponent’s left arm, servos burst apart as they melted, dropping the large weapon onto the mud below.
Not enough to win the battle.
The corrupted Knight slammed its shield breaker cannon shells into Zareen, bursting apart the carapace, then it followed with its remaining devastating weapon, the lascannon bore into Alektos chassis as it fused circuits together, bent plates into one, and pierced the cockpit. Luckily the energy has dissipated enough by the time it reach the pilot, even if it had burned half her face off, now covered charred flesh liquefied by the attack. Even as her own face melted, Zareen kept the fight going, swinging the blade through the Tyrant’s abdomen as it became separated from its legs. Yet with a final act of defiance, the monster fired again into Alekto’s chest once more, now weakened it punched clean through and vaporized what remained of Zareen.
Close, your best attempt so far.
For a heartbeat, the melted half of her face regenerated as silvered metal before becoming flesh. She coughed up blue bile filled with flesh and bones, with each passing death, she felt herself changing, only by a minuscule amount. Still she shook the thought away, blaming her own paranoia, instead focused on another scar across her face that failed to disappear, another grim reminder. “I despise that thing! Every time I feel like I’m just out of reach to kill it. I run out of ammo, I miss vital systems by a hair or this time it karking survives and finishes me off with a death rattle…”
I must say your maneuver with the hydraulics was quite creative—albeit perhaps too early, having to charge the Tyrant with a limping Knight.
“Thanks for the constructive criticism… I didn’t really have a choice however, either that war dog tore into my joints or I did what I did.”
Still, you are progressing. You went from lasting twenty three seconds to a full four minutes and five seconds. Almost completing the challenge. A few more tries and I believe you will succeed.
“I’d like to, I’m tired of seeing that perverse Knight shelling me from afar. For now though I’d like five minutes to myself.”
As you wish.
Zareen released the still warm controls and undid her harness. Interlocking her fingers in prayer she began her ritual: “Memento Machina Cor Imperium.” Their faces flashed into her mind, Gastel, Sasin, Bel, Talleia, Lilith—although not perfectly. Details began to disappear, scars and imperfections vanished from the mental image. Their voices began to morph into one, no longer able to tell them apart. She gripped onto the dog tags by her neck, holding it tightly as fingers traced the markings upon it, markings that no longer resembled words, simply lines and shapes. “I will never forget.” Ending her prayer before straightening herself in Alekto’s throne once more, ready to continue.
“I’m ready, let’s kill that Tyrant!”
She licked her sharpened teeth – the same teeth that had torn through her lip during the hydraulic maneuver. A flawed solution, but the Tyrant wouldn’t expect it twice.
Year 23 day 42 :
[Diagnostics complete] blurted the cogitator before her, its binaric transparent to Zareen. Alekto showed a 6% increase in reactor power generation—not dangerous yet but whatever might be the cause could devolve into a catastrophic failure. It started not less than a decade ago, the power fluctuated higher than possible during an encounter, enhancing the ion shield’s strength and securing her the victory over her opponent. At the time it had been less than 1%, ignoring the odd reading as a sensor failure.
Staring at the results she pondered what might be causing the growing abnormality—was it an after effect of the warp? Was Alekto itself changing? Or simply a sensor malfunction that persisted with each regeneration? Risking a core overload would prove disastrous after everything she had been through.
“You’re been suspiciously silent about these readings, dare I say avoiding them…”
Ag’Dresil did not respond, letting the woman bask in her theories.
“You know something, you’re deliberately not telling me.”
A deafening silence.
“The longer you say silent, the stronger my confidence in suspecting you becomes. Out with it.”
Have you checked your scar as of late?
“I haven’t no? There aren’t any mirrors around to look at my back.”
Suddenly the cogitators before her had their screens morph into a new image, a crystal view of from behind the pilot. As she leaned forward to better grasp what was in front of her, more and more of the scar came into view. Even covered by her tank top, it had grown considerably from its original minor puncture. Tendrils wrapped themselves onto her skin down her back, the sides of her neck and up into her head. Its color now a deep blue hue, she traced her fingers onto the scar, feeling a heightened warmth as it reacted to her touch.
“By the Emperor, what is that?!”
Our link.
“It looks more like warp corruption?! Why stay silent?!”
Worry not child, it is not corruption, in fact it is aiding you. As our connection grows stronger with each passing day, so to does my power—to the point I can help strengthen Alekto’s systems. As for why I did not tell you… your reaction is why.”
“Not corruption my arse! How long until it envelops my entire body? How long until I surrender control to it? Was this your plan, take over my body?! After all we’ve been through.”
I deeply apologize for not trusting you with this, I recognize my mistake. To calm your worries, the scar will not grow to such a size, your body is only that of a mortal. Should you be entirely taken by it—I fear it would consume you, kill you. Thus it will only grow until you have reached your limits, only then will you have obtained the power you need to rival Terhil.
Was this the true cost of power? To sacrifice one’s body for power? To fight Terhil on equal footing—corrupted Knights clashing each other. Still staring into the cogitator’s mirror, she become conscious of further changes: finally seeing her nails for the talons they were, her eyes no longer pure white with maroon pupils but instead her sclera had become tinted yellow, and her teeth sharpened like razors.
“Kark!” swore Zareen, “This was not the plan, I was to remain uncorrupted!”
Did you not dedicated yourself to becoming a formidable opponent to Voltstina?
“I did… and I stand by it…” her voice, weakening itself with every word “Its… Lilith will be disappointed. I promised.”
You are still Zareen Batal, do you feel yourself any different?
“I mean… not really other than being a much better pilot than I used to be”
Then all is well, no reason to doubt yourself.
“I hope you are right, for both our sakes.” Doubts remained, plaguing the woman’s mind. Only by lying to herself could she hope to survive. When she returned, would they recognize her? Would they shun her? Was she to be met with a bolt shell to the brain? She missed them dearly, believing in her heart that they would understand, that she hadn’t changed from the person they knew. That Garel would still drink Amase- wait Garel? Was it not Gastel? No, it was Garel, she was sure of it, Theeia and him would always laugh together, the three of them. Impossible that she would forget their names. She would never forget them.
Her prayer filled her mind as she held onto the tags, now as smooth as Alekto’s reborn plates, any traces of the past erased—forever lost.
“The sooner we get out of here, the sooner this nightmare will end. Twenty three years… I can barely remember my first day.”
You were quite naive—still are to an extent.
She scoffed at the remark, “Worry not, I don’t see myself beating that monster in my current state… and I won’t get there if I sit around, let’s continue. I’m ready.”
As you wish
A pair of questoris Knight’s screeched themselves into shape, energy echoing across the realm, as if the the warp itself was vomiting them out. Their surface rippled with a sea of blue feathers for only an instant, each containing an eye that peered into the soul. As adamantium took form, they first flickered with impossible shapes, nigh unending patterns that crawled into the mind, devouring it from the confusion.
‘Just another random occurrence of the warp’ she thought before focusing her entire psyche on the foes ahead, their deadly weapons ready to sing a tale of death.
As the left Knight fired its gatling cannon, covering Zareen’s view in blinding explosions, the right foe charged forward with its dual melee setup, a massive chainsword and a powerfist—both equally potent at annihilating their enemies. Alekto fired back with its bolt cannon, aiming for the origin point of the the incoming fire, hoping her weapon will overpower the enemy Knight’s weaker one—while keeping her blade ready for the incoming foe, energy cackling in anticipation.
Suddenly through the fireworks, a shape became discernible—the incoming Rampager. As the beast swung wildly with its chain weapon, Zareen took a step in the opposite direction to give enough room for her blade to parry the attack, adamantium teeth grinding against the energy field causing them to melt and shatter from the force. Her foe continued by thrusting its powerfist into her ion shield, shattering it as sparks covered the battlefield. With the Knights so close to each other, the further enemy was no longer able to safely fire at her without hitting its ally, a crucial mistake from the warpspawn pilots. She diverted her cannon to the Rampager as the torrent of shells burst its barrier apart as well, then following with a thrust of her own, the warblade dove into the enemy’s chassis deep into the cockpit, turning the pilot into vaporized flesh and bone.
For an instant she saw him, her screens flickered with his face—Terhil’s smirk as the blade crashed into him.
Shocked, she lost her momentum, losing precious time as the second knight marched ever closer, firing its carapace mounted rockets as they detonated on Alekto, destroying precious servos and cables. Power leaked out of its host from burnt circuits, Zareen basked in red lights, alarms blaring at the damage sustained. Soon there would be little left to keep the machina alive, movements became stiff, her weapons weakened severely as her opponent continued pummeling her.
Defeat was not an option.
With a roar, Zareen screamed for Alekto to keep fighting, her scar, now covering most of her neck burned a bright blue. Flames erupted from her back, yet she paid no head to the pain, for her teeth had already sunk deep into her lips, leaking blood down her chin—it kept her head straight from other sources of pain. The blood now sparked where it struck the controls—tiny arcs of blue energy dancing across her chin.
Even through the leaking circuits, power surged through the damaged Knight, reaching critical levels as systems return to nominal operation. With every fiber of her body roaring with hatred, she filled her warblade with so much power it almost melted itself, then she swung her arm and ordered a complete separation of the blade, sending it flying towards the enemy Knight. With power still echoing in its circuits, the sword sliced through its target, melting the beast in half and destroying it. For a heartbeat, the flying sword left a tear in reality—a screaming mouth that devoured the Knight’s wreckage.
As she stood still, breath shallow from the ordeal, the separated blade reformed into Alekto’s hilt. The reformed weapon felt different in her grip – not colder, but more like an extension of her own twitching fingers.
“Let the next fool who seeks my death pray harder to their false gods!” Words escaping from her grit teeth, as anger remained, a desire for carnage, for revenge.
Year 50 Day 3 :
Amber eyes stared into the empty dog tags—trying to grab shattered memories that remained out of reach. Why was this piece of junk at her neck? Shouldn’t it at least carry her name? Mayhap it was given to her by someone… but who? For a heartbeat, the tags reflected not her face, but a laughing man’s—his mouth moving in silent words she once knew. The words Memento Machina Cor Imperium flashed into her mind… but rang hollow, what did they mean? A prayer perhaps? To what? A pledge to someone? Something?
That didn’t matter, the only face that did was Lilith Phoebe, she who Zareen had pledged herself to, mind, body and soul. Forever in service of this Inquisitor, forever chained to duty, forever bowed to… Lilith? Her face was blurred, a pale shape with black hair—someone important.
As she tried concentrating on any shred of knowledge, her lips twitched slightly. A sign? But of what? Memories of time spent together… as servant and Lord? Perhaps more?
Zareen couldn’t make out any more details, her heart stinging in anguish. She would never forget—and yet… had she forgotten? Tears streaked from her face, a deep crystal blue as they broke upon hitting the cockpit floor in minor sparks, cogitators reacted with flickers of blue light with each broken tear. What was this pain she felt? Was her heart remembering something she couldn’t?
The Griffin remained silent—not in secrecy, but in mourning. Even a machine spirit could recognize tragedy.
What was lost? What had been forgotten? Who…?
Did any of it even matter? Her goal was killing Terhil, that was all that mattered—any distractions would compromise her resolve.
Yes that was all that mattered now. Whoever was left behind will understand.
Killing Terhil.
That was it.
Nothing else.
That must be what Lilith Phoebe wishes.
That must be why I am here.
And so I will continue my training.
I will kill Terhil.
At any cost.
Year 62 Day 332 :
“I’m ready” screeched a sinister voice, sharpened teeth already piercing feeble lips.
This challenge will be interesting for you.
As ink took shape, warp energy pooled into a large mass of cruel adamantium, grand weapons took shape as plates shined a striking blue with silver accents. Even in her shattered mind, she recognized her new opponent, an abomination that had brought nightmares to her mind, it was Apsinthaeus.
“I know you. You almost killed me once… when I was weak, feeble and naive.”
The Tyrant only responded with blaring war horns as it prepared itself to fight, the very air around it distorting as it marched forward.
“This time I will be the one to silence you, monster.” She finished before charging forward, bolt cannon spinning to life as fresh shells found their way into the firing mechanism.
Apsinthaeus began the song of carnage by opening fire with its carapace shieldbreaker cannons, hitting Alekto directly. However this time the barrier barely flickered, her scar pulsing with tremendous power as it breathed energy into the Knight’s systems, bringing circuits to their absolute limits.
Zareen responded in kind with her own torrent of fire, tearing into her foe’s ion shield until she was only mere meters from the corrupted giant. The massive conflagration cannon spat liquid flames at temperatures where even adamantium began to melt, and yet against Alekto’s energy barrier it harmlessly recoiled onto the darkened mud below. The amber eyed pilot continued pushing forward, thrusting the warblade against Apsinthaeus’ defenses until it finally buckled and broke into a shower of sparks.
She brought her bolt weapon to bare against the silent thundercoil harpoon, adamant on removing it before she felt that shock once more. As hundreds of shells detonated, her foe gambled by firing the weapon, harpoon flying out of its sheath towards Alekto—until her blade melted the projectile as it crashed against it, falling to the ground in melted pieces. Zareen was not the same pilot that had faced the Tyrant before, this time it was burning vengeance.
In a fit of panic, the giant fired its carapace missiles point blank only for them to miss and hit the ground behind her harmlessly, the angle far too wide at this range.
Not wanting her prey to continue its wails, she overcharged her sword before plunging it under Apsinthaeus’ head, piercing deep into the cockpit and boiling the imitation of Antonius in his restraints. For a heartbeat, the boiling cage revealed not Antonius’ face, but her own – screaming as she had on that ash battlefield so long ago. It took only a second before the Tyrant fell silent, never to be reborn again.
As she removed the sword, she finally caught her breath, briefly wiping the sweat from her face. Her sweat sizzled where it struck the controls, leaving tiny chrome circles that pulsed like her scar.
Congratulations, that was an impressive show of skill. You have improved immensely since your last encounter.
“Thanks but that traitor was still leagues below Terhil, I must train more.”
You are not incorrect but it it still important to recognize the journey you have traveled. The mind is fond of success.
“That matters not to me. Until I can slay Terhil, I am weak.”
I worry you are losing yourself child, there is m-
“Silence, I did not ask for your opinion. Now let us continue, spawn more creatures.”
As you wish The Griffin’s voice fractured into static – half warning, half apology – before complying with her demand, sensing he is beginning to lose his pilot.
Year 93 Day 21 :
As the latest victim to her wrath burned below, another questoris Knight walked out of the horizon and marched on—yet something was wrong. Its pace was sluggish, movements were awkward and it lacked any aggression.
Regardless an opponent was an opponent to the hardened pilot, Zareen made her way to her new target, bolt cannon trained and ready to unleash death. Once the distance had reached only a few hundred meters, the enemy Knight began firing its battle cannon, wildly. Large shells left the weapon’s barrel only to slam into the mud below, detonating, creating eruptions of dirt, rock and charcoal that showered Alekto. A single shell hit Zareen, easily caught by the ion barrier as she continued marching through the cloud of fire and shrapnel.
Not letting her guard down, she fired her weapon in retaliation. Rounds crashed into the battle cannon, easily tearing through the unprotected machinery disabling the weapon permanently.
‘No ion shield? Is this enemy defective? No—Ag’Dresil has never made a mistake…’
Regardless, the assault continued, bolter shells digging deeper into the opponent chassis, systems bursting into spark and flame. The damaged Knight swung with its chainsword, more akin to wailing its arm around like a clueless child… Without breaking a sweat, Alekto parried and dodged each blow before lighting the blade in cackling energy as it sliced through the chainsword as if it were but a twig. With her enemy now defenseless safe for its singe stubber, she plunged the blade deep into the Knight’s core, melting precious circuits in place as power escaped the failing machina.
As she removed the blade, the dying Knight’s carapace creaked open, revealing its warpspawn pilot—a small mortal, barely older than twelve standard years, their face half-melted by leaking radiation, crimson tears streaking from innocent eyes.
Zareen stood still in shock. “What is the meaning of this?!”
Ag’Dresil did not answer. Instead followed the child’s raw and terrified voice, “P-please… Papa said… it’d keep me safe…”
“No—you are but a warp trick. A daemon’s mockery.”
“It hurts so much… p-please help.” Wailing continued, mixed in with agonizing screams as the young soul’s lungs filled with ashes of burnt circuitry and steel.
“Y-you can’t be. No—“ her fingers twitched, unconsciously pressing down onto the bolt cannon’s trigger, and yet the barrels spun empty, Alekto itself refusing to participated in the slaughter.
Her dying opponent choked as their own breathing began to fail them, blood blurting out of their mouth. The child’s remaining hand clutched a stuffed toy—stitched into the shape of a Knight—now smoldering in their lap.
“P-papa—I love yo—
Her hands shook—but the scar burned, and her body moved anyway. The warblade lurched forward, not cleanly, but like a drunkard’s stab. The child’s final words cut off as their torso burst into steam.
Zareen gripped the controls so tightly her own bones began cracking, teeth dug so deep into her lip she had reached the lower jaw below.
“You monster, why?!” addressing her silent companion.
Monster? Have you not just torn a defenseless’ child apart?
“You made be do this! You gave life to them! You put her in my path! You knew what you were doing!”
And without hesitation you clawed through innocence.
“Spare me your elaborate phrases! Explain yourself!”
I’m afraid only you can understand yourself now. I brought you here to train, not become a monster.
“You coward! You knew exactly what you were doing! We both made great sacrifices to get to this point, and now its too much?!”
You are beginning to resemble him more and more.
“DON’T YOU DARE COMPARE ME TO THAT CREATURE!” roared Zareen with every corrupted cell in her morphed body.
Someone must. The path you’ve committed yourself to will consume every shred of humanity remaining.
“If not me then who! Terhil will burn the galaxy before he is satisfied! This is my sacrifice to make. You don’t get to try and guilt me out of it after all these decades! You spineless pompous bastard!”
What would Lilith think of you now?
“Lilith? She would… she would…” Her resolve fissuring with each of Ag’Dresil words, like claws tearing into a feeble mind.
You don’t even remember her do you? The very person you swore yourself to! The one that matters the most—your own memory has failed you.
“Shut your filthy mechanical mouth! What matters is killing Terhil! Everything else is irrelevant.”
‘What has become of you…? You swore to me that corruption would never touch you. What have you done?’ A new voice echoed into Alekto’s cockpit, it was the Inquisitors.
‘Zee… why? You promised you would return unharmed—but look at you now.’ Another, Talleia’s crackling voice.
‘What happened…? Kiddo I- I told you to keep yourself self and now you’ve let everything go?’ Gastel’s voice echoing as the metal tags at her neck dissolved like salt in the tide.
‘You are far beyond my expertise… you are no longer Zareen, you are an abomination.’ Continued, followed by the sound of Sasin’s snapping mechadendrites.
‘Purge required / Only solution / I am sorry Zareen’
“Your tricks won’t work, I know these are fabrications!”
Are they? Or am I not simply projecting what those you left behind will share with you upon your return? Have you become so blinded by vengeance that you don’t recognize your own family?
She clawed at her face, nails scrapping against her sweat ridden skin and faint scars. “No no no! Stop this!” Her talons raked furrows into her cheeks, but the child’s ashes wouldn’t flake off. They burrowed deeper, stitching her scars into a mask of soot and child’s blood. Her own hair wet with the blood of an innocent child, the crimson streaks on her skin pulsed blue where they touched her scar. For a heartbeat, her veins shone like fissures in glass.
The controls sparked under her grip, not from damage, but rejection. Alekto’s throttle locked—for a heartbeat, it refused to let her flee.
Y̷͔̋o̴̹̚ù̷ͅ ̴̹̔m̷̜͝ä̴̱́d̸̩͘ȩ̶͗ ̸̻͛y̴̲̾o̴̡͘ṵ̸̽r̶̋ͅ ̶̮̍č̸̤h̷̩͐o̴̱̿i̸̮͗c̷̘̐e̵͖̅,̷̪̀ ̴̼̀ṡ̶̱ạ̷̌c̴̻͝r̶̲͆ǐ̶̞f̵̞͛i̴̔ͅc̶̲͑ě̸̮ḑ̵̚ ̵̛̼e̶̙̓v̷̮͝e̵̪͆ŕ̵͖y̷̘͌t̷͙̃h̷̛̼i̴̩͗ň̸̘g̴͕̏.
The sky peeled back like rotten canvas, and behind it—eyes, not just in the clouds but in the cracks of her cockpit’s cogitators, in the static between her teeth. Laughing. Always laughing. Her own world crumbling before her. No release, no past—no future.
Ẁ̷̜̽̓́̾h̸̙̩̩̺͎͎̍̈́͛̍̔͂͆̓̿͐y̶̨̜̼̰̣̓̂̎͛͌̿͠?̸̣̝̞̹̟̆̈́̾̎͗͑̌̆͘ͅ ̸̛̫̬̄̈́͛͛̆̄͠Z̴̰̱̱̪͊́̽̓͛͂͛͊̉̓ā̶̺͖̜͙̅̿͒̓̈́̀̀͆͘̕r̴͓̟͕͎̫͊̈̽̾̐͊̄͒̓͌ę̸̜͕͖̹̩̟̬̟̖̍ę̵̮͕̤̬̜̮͎͇̑͒͌͋͗̕͘͠ͅͅn̵̗̞̎͛̃̏͝?̸̬͚̩͐̓͘
“Please stop! I beg you—my head… its burning. STOP PLEASE!”
S̷̭̹̳̞̟̗͎͔̳̪̜̤̬̦̭̱͙̎̊̑̌̒̉͜͜͜͝t̴̡̨̢̨̧̝̘̟͉̺̤̟̻͈̗͚̹̺͔̼̄̓̍̓̂͗̅̀́̕o̴̢̨̭̞͈͕̮͕̮̫̔͒̈̎̓͂͠ͅṗ̵̹̙̝̹̠̊͐?̵̛̼̺̬̙̬̫̠̣̒̔̄̀̿̔̏̈́̉͋̀̔̔̂̎̅͋͒̂̽̚͠ ̸͎̲͓̳͈̻̣̳͚͚̠̹͖́̑̓͊́̚̕͜͜͝ͅB̸̨̪͚̯͚̙͓̞̼͇̦̤̹̗̠͛͜ù̷̡̲̻̬̫͇̞̯̩̯͔̤̓͒̉̐̋͂̈́̅̑̏̋̽̆̕̚̚t̵̢̡̧̛̘̲͍̠͔̪̙̞̼̳̪̮̱̔͋̾̾̀̕͝͠͝ͅ ̶̙̥̟̙̦̉̋͐̅̏̿̂̄̒̈́́̀̾͗̓͆̓̔͆̉͝ẅ̸̛͓̱̗̘̝͍́͛ę̸̢͎͇̤̲͙̞̖̝̙͓̬͕̪̥̙̯̣̉̂̿͗͊͝ ̷̧̡̢̡̪̠̹̟̻̲͍̻̤̣͇͎̣͎͙͎́́̇͌͒̃̎ͅͅa̸̛̛̰̍́̅͂̿̓̐̊͛̑͊͑͂̋̾͆̋͊̔r̷͉͎͖̘̳͓̹̗̮͕̬̜̹͊ͅé̴̬̥̘̠̓͒͐̚͘͜͠ͅ ̷̭̺̃̓͊̃͗̄̄̋̀̅̒͒̓̐̋̋̚̚͝͝͝s̷̛̭̯̻̤̗͖̥̠͇̓̊̀̀̓̾̂̍̀̈́̌̓̏̕̕̚͜͝o̸̲͋͑̈́̊̓̋̀̕ ̷̦̙̭̼̗̺̞̺͓̪̳͚͂̈́͒̀́̆̈̃̿͊̒͂̑̎͐̑̀̕̚͘͘͝͝c̴͙͑͛͛̇͝l̷̨͖͇͚̞͕͓͇̯̺̽̄̔̔͐̃͑͛̎͑̑͑̉͘o̵̼͂͋s̵̪̳̋̇͑͌é̴̢̜͈̳̪̯̭̺̼̺̳͓̬̦͉͖̙̰͜͝.̴̧̡̢̢̡͎͙̙̹̘̪͇͇͎̩̲̓̈́͑̈́͘̕͜͜͝ͅ ̷̗̙̫͙̟̫̖̭̞̞͕́͛̄͌̈̓̎̀̒͑̈́̽͋͊̾ͅͅÌ̸̟̻̟̼̲͗̓͋̅ͅ ̵̡̚c̵̨̢͚̯̮͎͓̫͎͈̪̰̜̱̮̫̪̙̼̖̟̈̿̑̈̉̀̒̐̈͆̈̃̊͑̉͛͗̔̚̚͝͝͝á̷̮̣̪̘͖̂̈́̽̎̀̑̿̃͗̾̓͂̅̈́̒̃͋͘͠ǹ̷̡̛̛̳̟̥̟̬͉̪̜͓̘̯͔̮̘̣̹͛̍̐͐̄̽̎̄̎͐̔̾̈́̋͘̕͠ ̸̥̟̮̽̒̽́̂͌͛̂͐̂̉̀̒̐̕͝f̶̢̧̱̠̣͚͔͕͔̟͕͚͖̹̟̠̟̟̰̜̀̈́̑͜͜i̵̛͈̘̲̪͉̟͎̭͌̓͋͛͊̒͋͒̓̽̿̎̔̈́̆̈́͌́͘͠n̵̡̡̫̠̪̟̦̦̼̪̞͓̻̉́̋̍̀̋̎̅̊̂́̈́̋̔a̷̝͉̍̆̆̌̅̿̌̈́̓̃̄̿̒̽̏͘̕͝͠͝͠͝l̶̛̛̺͐̒̊͆̈̐͊̾͆͊͒͊̏̾̉̍̿̍͘͝͝ļ̵̧̛͚̼͉͓̩͍̯̩̺͈̫̗̀͗̀͌̾̀y̷̧͕͔̜̲̗̝̭̖̲͎̯͎̋́̉͌̀͜ ̴̨̛̲̖̠̝̼̟̻͙̞̝͙̬͓͓̙̣̃̉̔̑͆̎͂̽̓̍͋̆̃͜͠͝ͅͅş̴̭͚̦̼̗͎̟̦̩̰̼̭͒͒̒́̾̏̏͘ę̸̛̛̩͉̤̲̳̪͓̩̙̙̬̬̪̦̼̙̪̺̗̻̉̆̓̐̊̌͐̓͑̀͑͘͜é̵̡̨̨̜͇̮̺̙̲̤̫͕̱͌͋̿̊̾͗̌̑̀͗̉̾̓̽̆̈́̕͠ ̷͙͍͌̏͠y̵̡̫̞̜̤̮̯̪̜̜̻̝̞̞̝͚͚̮͕̫̝͍͒̂̈́̄̈̏̌̾́́̽̍̚ͅô̵̢̗͔̥̪͓̩͓͉̗̺̜͕̟̤̝̲̣̦͋̀͐̇͘ͅu̵̢̹̫̱̲̮̟̲͉̾͌̓̅̾̓̍̎͂̄͐ ̶̧̧̡̢̳̮͎̟̲̹͚̞̗̣̹̰̽͂ļ̷̛͉̠̫̥̭̤̹̩̠͓͚̪̲̜̦̗͓̩̝̮̰̩͌́̔̀͑̀̀̎̈́͌̎̆̈́̍͌́̈́̑̎̓͝͠į̴̟̝̖̘̻̬̞̫̥̪̺̤̮̘͈͒̈̎̿́̑̇̅̇́̆͑̾̿̑̅͑̇̄̏̕͠ͅt̷͙̜̼̖̞̤̣̮̰͇̿͐̑̒̋̊͜͝͝ẗ̴̢̢̮̳̝͉̲̟͐͌͠ļ̶̲̼͉̘̹̝͙̜̝͙̳͓͖̝̙̯̮̯̖͆̈́͌̃͒̄̀͜͜͠͝ȇ̷͕̪̪̺̬̋̽̕͝ͅ ̷͉̩͚̖̘̰̠͚͕̽͐̏̂̎̈́̌͌͌̍͋͌́̑͆͗̀̏̕͜͠c̷̨̛̘̲̞̹̦̖̜̰͖̟̽͗̽̋̐̽̿̓͐̏̚͜͝h̶͕̬͙̪͓̓́̽͂́į̵͓̘͍̹̣̰̱͉̺̫̥͓̗͂̃͐̑́͌̿̚͜͜l̷̡̪̳̺̋́͌̍͂́͐̆͋d̸̹̼̯̙̻̝̺̝̰̳͔͉̮͗̇̂̓̍̍̚̚͝
The sky screamed apart in a web of cerulean lightning, tendrils of warp-energy lashing the battlefield like the claws of a starved beast. The very air curdled, reality peeling back to reveal the cancerous geometry of Khamosh’s true form—a writhing mass of eyes and mandibles, its presence making the warp itself boil away in revulsion. Blue fire wreathed its limbs, each step leaving smoldering sigils that pulsed with the rhythm of a dying star. The child’s ashes still clinging to Zareen’s skin ignited, burning cold as the daemon’s voice slithered into her skull:
A child-killer? Oh, you are more than I hoped, little moth. The words dripped with perverse pride.
To think the trembling wretch who crawled through Onerth’s pus-filled forests now stands before me, her blade still steaming with innocence… How delicious that my minions failed to crush the last of Batal’s line that day
Trying to breath herself to a sensible heartbeat, the memory detonated behind her eyes—smoke-choked skies, her family’s bodies sprung upon the dirt, the laughter of something unseen.. “Minions? You—orchestrated the massacre on Onerth!”
Khamosh’s form rippled, a thousand eyes blinking in unison. Months I waited in those wretched trees, hunting for Ag’Dresil’s scent. And when the Griffin fled into you… A mandible clicked. “Those pathetic soldiers let you slip through their fingers. But today?”
“You… you killed them all. My brothers, my mother, my father—all dead because of you-” interjected the crumbled soul as resolved spiked into her veins, reigniting Zareen.
The daemon’s talons flexed. The battlefield warped, trees twisting into skeletal hands. “Today I carve what’s mine from your corpse. Though first… It leaned in, its breath reeking of scorched metal and child’s blood. “Tell me, Knight of Phoebe—do you still hear your father’s screams when you sleep?”
Wrestling every emotion in her body, she trained her sight on the shape ahead of her, eyes a crystal clear amber sclera with deep dark pupils as they searched, studied, calculated her next move. Today vengeance was hers. Zareen’s body had been scarred beyond comprehension, decades fighting without end took their toll as sharpened teeth grit against the broken flesh of her lips. She tasted the trickling blood as its iron taste stabilized her inflamed soul, calming her raging mind as she focused on the abomination ahead. The pain grounded what was left of her shredded mind, forcing the pilot to reckon with the present.
MORTAL FLESH, FEED MY THRONE WITH YOUR SCREAMING SOUL!
As soon as Khamosh made his move, her hands tied to their commands like chains, reacted effortlessly as nails sharp as claws scrapped the thin layer of coating remaining. The scar on her neck throbbed with enough power to sustain a starship, its tendrils wrapped around Zareen like a second skin, feeding her the essence she needed to annihilate her opponent.
Khamosh’s form arched forward, large tendons tore into the ground below anchoring themselves as millions of scarabs poured outwards like a shedding skin. His mouth creaked and trembled, reforming into an orifice gleaming with dark energy, the creature’s back became pierced by large obsidian tendrils that flailed into the broken sky above, each then curling forward, tips sharpened like spears as the very air around them poured and tore itself apart—all focused at Khamosh’s front. With an earth-shattering shriek, a beam of pure energy escaped its maw and flew directly into Alekto, vaporizing particles in its way, briefly sounding like moans of the damned—those fed to the daemon in sadistic sacrifice.
Zareen directed the ion shield at the blast, taking the brunt of the damage as energy spiraled outwards in infinite mind-bending tendrils that turned the very ground around her into glass. With each passing second, gritting her teeth deeper into broken lips, she watched as the cogitator to her left displayed power levels spiking beyond safety limits. Circuits burst under the strain as her scar pulsed stronger than ever before, every shred of essence Ag’Dresil once possessed was being transcribed into raw unbridled fire, attempting to counter Khamosh’s assault.
Sacrificing a minuscule amount of her available energy, Zareen lifted the bolt cannon and fired along the beam’s trajectory, shells zipping through the charred air as those too close burst prematurely due to the immense heat. The few that reached the daemon burrowed deep into its malleable sickly shape, eyes burst apart where bolt rounds tore through them. After reaching only a few centimeters into the beast, they detonated their explosive payload.
At first it appeared to have little effect other than to shower more of the realm in burnt scarabs. From the superficial wounds her father’s voice spilled out, laughing.
You missed, little storm.
Suddenly Khamosh’s front left appendage cracked under the pressure, tearing the limb in two as the detached portion fell and dissipated into a dark cloud of raw warp energy. With one of its anchors taken out, the beam’s titanic recoil veered Khamosh to the left finally giving rest to Alekto’s strained barrier.
The beam gutted the sky, peeling back Ag’Dresil’s illusion like rotting flesh. Beneath it—the warp’s true face, a cataract of screaming colors and weeping eyes. The warp vomited through the tear—a neon tsunami of pink, purple, and blue that drowned the battlefield. The mud bubbled into screaming mouths that seemed to linger in the flow of grotesque immaterium. Where once stood limitless forests and skies, walls fissured following the tear as more and more warp energy pooled into the arena. As Khamosh ended his cackling devastation, limbs reformed, appendages creaked and stretched into place, now his form more akin to a bipedal twisted abomination from humanity’s worst nightmares. The monster’s face unfolded—a mangled avian skull, its beak lined with a thousand eyes, each pupil reflecting a different Zareen: broken, triumphant, dying. A single eye, human, golden, inquisitorial peered from above its maw, appearing to pierce through Alekto’s barrier, its adamantium and straight through Zareen’s eyes. It wept black tears that appeared to follow the woman’s heartbeat.
We cannot— must— leave. This— too dangerous! Ag’Dresil’s voice reverberated through Zareen’s skull, his voice drained and hollow.
“Where have you been?! You suddenly disappear when this abomination starts attacking?”
I apologize, we are- fighting— his— strong… I am trying to keep— bay. You are only fighting— fraction— true power— Her scar burning hotter with each of the machine spirit’s words.
“Only a fraction?! Emperor be with me…”
Fleeing was not an option… She had trained far too hard to abandon course now. No—she will stand her ground. Defeating the daemon’s form before her might give her companion a critical edge in their ethereal clash. Her teeth split into needles. Her blood sang with killing light. There would be no victory—only annihilation.
Veins pulsed like warp-lighting under skin. Blood crackled from her lips—not red now, but liquid cobalt that burned holes in Alekto’s floor.
Khamosh marched forward, each step shattering the world below, leaving a window into hell itself. Its form was unconstrained, constantly changing, adapting, evolving. Snakes appears to slither under its skin as clouds of scarabs burst out sporadically from bubbling flesh, Zareen fought every emotion that sought to look away, the daemon’s revulsion was almost overpowering. Instead, corralling her body, she walked on, ready to finally silence the Ninefold song of false hope and slaughter.
The abomination began its attack as thousands of tendrils sprouted out of the throbbing skin, each sharp enough to pierce ceramite. Alekto’s barrier attempted to catch as many as possible, while Zareen swung her blade, cutting hundreds at a time. With each decapitated limb, shrieks and moans shot outwards, also deafening the pilot. The castigator bolt cannon roared to life, shells slamming into tendril and flesh alike, detonating and showering the broken realm in charred scarabs and grotesque flesh.
I will break you little moth. I will tear you apart limb from limb as I feast on your feeble soul!
“Try as you like—pathetic and vile as you are!” Yelled back Zareen
Papa— save me…! The voice’s origin was undeniable and yet it sounded exactly like the child she had slain prior.
“Damn you! Damn your tricks! Damn your monstrous existence!” charging forward, warblade ready to strike.
Maintain— emotions! Calm—! Ag’Dresil’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding the surging woman that tricks came in many forms. Rage would not win this battle, she had to stay focused lest she end up in the daemon’s maw.
The Knight’s feet screeched to a halt as Khamosh’s form launched itself forward, pouncing with sharpened limbs ready to tear through Alekto. Thanks to her companion’s warning, Zareen strode backwards enough to avoid the initial blow before immediately countering with a thrust of her own, cackling warblade tearing through the air as it sunk deep into the daemon. Igniting the blade even further, the beast became enveloped in a fire that burned brighter than the Astronomicon itself. Thousands of twisted faces screamed in agony as Khamosh’s flesh boiled from the inside but before long her foe reciprocated by firing its powerful beam point-blank.
The maw gulped warp-energy like a starving beast—then vomited it onto Alekto in a torrent that bent reality around the blast. Zareen felt the Knight get pushed several meters despite trying to anchor itself, circuits sparked as cogitators revealed dire diagnostics. Either this fight ended soon or the Knight would be burned out permanently.
With little time remaining, Zareen dropped the barrier for a second as energy poured onto the Knight’s helmet, melting it and destroying precious optics, with the additional power, she focused everything on the warblade and struck Khamosh’s maw from under, sword piercing straight through and out above, silencing the beam.
I’m afraid that wasn’t enough weak mortal! Laughing screeched through her cockpit, sinister and sadistic.
The daemon, with both of its arms, grabbed onto the burning blade, and as its edges kept searing flesh, the beast’s form continued deforming and twisting, grip getting stronger and stronger until the entire blade was enveloped. Then with a sudden crack, the blade snapped in half, its remaining energy exploding outwards vaporizing the hands that had held it—only to instantly reform, ready to fight anew.
“Hells! How is that even possible!?”
Maybe if you hadn’t broken your promise Zareen! An inquisitorial voice, yet soft like a melody… filled with disappointment.
“MY PLEDGE IS ETERNAL DAEMON!” roared the woman, her scar igniting brighter than ever before, her entire body glowed an ethereal blue, blood filled with arcs of pure energy.
The cockpit’s walls blistered black, the stench of her own burning flesh mixing with ozone. She didn’t care. The pain was nothing now.
“MY PROMISE IS UNBROKEN, MY DUTY BOUND BY BLOOD AND SOUL.
The Knight’s right arm became empowered far beyond its limits, sparks showered the battlefield as servos gave in and yet it did not impede movement. Circuits glowed a glistening blue as the empty hilt became overpowered with energy.
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SPEAK THINE LADY’S WORDS! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO EXIST! AND BY MY BLADE I SHALL SMITE THEE!”
The very air around the hilt tore apart as light shone so bright for a brief instant. As the flash died out, an ethereal blade took its place, a sword so perfectly energized it appeared almost alive. The blade hummed with a sound like a dying star—a note so pure it hurt. For a heartbeat, Zareen saw her reflection in its light: not as she was, but as she would be
IMPOSSIBLE! YOU DO NOT POSSESS THIS POWER! AG’DRESIL?!
The single human eye dilated in shock, deeper dark tears poured outwards.
“BY MIGHT OF BLOOD, BY STRENGTH OF COG, AND BY PURITY OF SOUL—I SLAY THEE.”
With a flawless swing, the blade sliced straight through Khamosh without any resistance, leaving an after-effect of burning warp energy that consumed the beast. Its very essence being pulled apart and and vaporized into nothingness.
The blade cut—not through flesh, but fate itself. Khamosh’s form unraveled like a rotten tapestry, his final scream stitched from the voices of everyone she’d failed, and as she stood there, blade still in hand the world fell apart and consumed Alekto—but not before Khamosh’s final taunts echoed one last time:
Union of Daemon and Machine— I have never seen such an event… My master wishes to observe more. Thus our feud ends here little moth. Our paths diverge as is ordered by the divine scheme. May you enjoy your remaining days before I reclaim your soul, Zareen— Her name echoing until there was nothing.
Then the warp ate its own nightmare—and Zareen with it.
The alarm rang, and the vox shouted its words: “10 MINUTES”
They all stood silently, eager and praying for her safe return.
Another full minute passed—still nothing.
“Throne we should never have trusted that ‘thing’!” roared Gastel, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he kicked a broken down servitor beside him.
“Perhaps they are simply late… there is naught else we can do.” Responded Sasin, her mechadendrites wailing in rising panic.
Suddenly air began to spiral in the hangar, energy appeared out of thin air as tendrils of lightening struck the walls and ceiling. Then suddenly with a deafening crack, the air compressed on itself and vomited out a single object.
As soon as the storm ceased, they all ran out of the room into the hangar, Phoebe at the head. The hangar smelled of ozone and a strange sweet odor that the Inquisitor could not place.
As they arrived at the center point of what had been a brief cataclysm, there stood the object: a small single leaf. Untouched and freshly cut from its host. The leaf’s veins flickered—a heartbeat of cobalt light—before going dark.
“What is this?” asked Talleia, staring with confusion.
“I—“ Lilith’s voice fractured “I don’t know…” Her heart thrashed in its chains.
“I can analyze this biological matter…” the Magos Biologis stepped forward as one of her tendrils grabbed the mysterious leaf. “Perhaps it will help us understand what happened here.”
“Do it, I want answers before the hour dies…” Lilith’s nails dug into her palms as her persona struggled to keep itself from breaking apart. What had happened to Zareen? Was she still alive? And if so… where?
ViperVale 
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