A Terrible Idea

Rain clattered against the glass window, the forecast showed no change for the next
several days which annoyed him to no end. He should have been on a troop transport
well on his way back home— instead here he is, incapable of sleeping as the oceans
poured themselves outside. Warpstorms delayed the regiment’s relief, prolonging their
unending deployment.

“Just my luck” Radius muttered to himself, who would’ve thought serving the Emperor
meant standing put on an empty rock just because some damn techpriest believed
minerals could be found here. Babysitting wasn’t on his list of potential deployments…
Radius grabbed his lasri le, swung its sling onto his shoulder, put his helmet on and
opened the wooden door. He took one long breath as the scent of wet grass arose, and
took a step into the deluge.

‘If I can’t sleep, might as well check on the tincans…’ he thought to himself as he walked
along the dirt path towards the mines .They had been excavated months ago when they
had irst arrived and yet no sign of precious minerals—or anything of importance. By the
time he reached the rocky cover, he was already drenched, his militarum fatigues weighing
twice their weight now.

Radius spotted something shinning as he lit his pocket lamp. He quickly scurried towards
it, crouching to study the curious item: a broken auspex scanner belonging to the
Mechanicum on the humid loor, it looked like it had been crushed by a behemoth. His
mind illed with questions, questions cut short by his next inding. As the infantryman
shone his light around, a corpse splattered against the wall, its robes a deep red of the
Mechanicum, mechandendrites lay dead at its feet, broken and torn. Dread spiraled into
Radius’ mind, he quickly went for the vox at his belt but his hand nothing. “Karking idiot!”
He swore, turned around and readied himself to run back for the cabin.

A loud snarl erupted in front of the soldier stopping him in his tracks, Radius looked up,
relexively directing his lamp forward. A maw, akin to a voracious beast, oozing with blood
trickling down its teeth as its nostrils appeared to exude fumes. Armor a rusted blue, with
mechanical workings underneath creaking as if they themselves sought blood and murder.
The man froze in terror, his hand releasing his pocket lamp as it dropped onto the loor—
and as hydraulics hissed, with one quick leap the War Dog tore off the guard’s head from
its body.

As the mechanical beast lavished itself on its fresh kill, two more appeared from the
shadows and began to ight for the man’s lifeless corpse. Under the sounds of clashing
adamantium, a Knight Despoiler strode beside the bickering War Dogs. Advancin only a
few steps further before unleashing its Daemonbreath Thermal Cannon onto the
regiment’s cabins, incinerating the sleeping infantrymen. For those that survived, they
were cut down by stubber ire from its co-axial mount.

After 7 minutes of deafening melta ire, screaming men and women as bullets tore holes
into them, and the blaring horn of the Knight sounding like a deathly shriek—the
massacre was over. Blood mixed with rainwater and mud as many more similar scenes
occurred throughout the entire regiment’s barracks, every single guardsmen died that
night. All that remained was the mechanical giants of House Valenmour, eagerly awaiting
pickup so that they may continue The Ninefold Song of Slaughter on the next world in
their path.

---

Several hours had passed since the incident in the hangar, Zareen couldn’t stop pacing
herself around the room Gastel left her in. Her mind racing about what had happened:
‘everything was going ine until… that igure.’ Theories looded her mind but most
importantly her attention was equally focused on the Inquisitor’s fate. The Militarum man
told her Phoebe was alive but having seen her state, she worried that her mind had been
decimated by the shadowy igure.

Zareen didn’t have to wait much longer as Herculaar opened the door to her cage “Follow,
Lady Phoebe wishes to see you.” His voice echoed throughout her mind.

“Oh thank the Emperor she’s OK” she sighed with relief, a monumental weight off her
shoulders. “And I’m really sorry, I.. I don’t know what happened.”

“It isn’t to me you must talk, come now child.” the giant beckoned her to follow.

Despite her initial relief at the news, now walking in the empty cold corridors brought
back her anxiety ‘What was she going to say? Will she understand? Does she despise me? Will
I get kicked out?’ Shuf ling her thoughts away, she instead tried on focus on Herculaar as
he walked in front of her, his almost supernatural movement—he walked with such grace
whilst barely making a sound, contrasting his immense frame. Zareen wondered if all
angels were like this, did they all have his obsidian skin? If the Astartes was this imposing
without his armor, she shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of such a
foe—and yet she was, the Plague Marines of the Death Guard…

Before she was able to once again dwell on matters past, they had arrived, the woman
recognized it as the medical ward where she’d spent her recovery. Once inside, it was a
veritable gathering, she recognized both techpriests, Sasin and Bel that stood by the bed’s
cogitators, next to them with one foot resting against the wall as he leaned on it she
recognized Gastel with his arms crossed. Herculaar moved to stand beside the bed, as if
guarding it, however next to him now was a woman the Onerthian was unfamiliar with,
she wore the attire of the Imperial Navy, its aquila eaten by tarnish with a cap sporting
insignia that denoted a high rank, which one though Zareen had no idea. The igure’s face
bore small tired eyes, as if she’d been awake since the Emperor reuni ied Terra, her
strained face accentuated the scars she bore, a slash from her upper lip to her left eye
mirrored by another smaller scar on the right side. Her expression an annoyed frown,
clearly she’d rather be elsewhere. Finally sitting on the bed with her legs off to the side,
Lilith, staring right into Zareen’s eyes which gave a chilling sensation, unsure if the psyker
was using her powers to probe her or she was simply afraid of those lightning-blue eyes.

The Inquisitor broke the silence “Everyone is inally here, we may commence. Bel begin
your report.” Her voice a mark of a cold professional agent of the Throne.

“Acknowledged / Report Theta – 2 start : Upon Activation of Throne by Batal at 11:27,
levels = nominal / 14.632 seconds past : massive spike in Cortisol generation = Stress at
extreme levels / Severing link was ineffective, reason = unknown, Hypothesis = Machine
Spirit much stronger than anticipated per-“

“Continue with the report Bel, we’ll talk ‘why’ afterwards” interrupted Phoebe, with a
strained voice, she was putting up a healthy facade, her injuries hadn’t fully healed—she’d
most likely told Sasin off to let her keep working.

“Apologies / Report Resuming / Lady Phoebe established psychic connection with subject
Batal / Cortisol levels kept rising to dangerous levels / 11:31 Ship time Link Severed
leading to fall of Stress levels / However theta band waves spiked momentarily /
Additional information = Lady Phoebe wound presented psychic damage / End of Report”

“Thank you Bel.” She turned to the other member of the Mechanicum “Sasin you may
continue”

“Having now studied extensively both Zareen’s and Lady Phoebe’s readings, I can only
come to the conclusion that we have encountered a very powerful psychic presence.”

“A Daemon?” added Zareen.

She continued in binaric before switching back to low gothic “ [10010110 01100010
01111001 01100100] Unsure of its nature, the entity’s warp signature does prove that
theory and yet every other measure contradicts it. That is all I have Lady Phoebe.”

“Thank you Sasin, this also brings us to the inal point: whatever it is, it has proved itself to
be very powerful but not necessarily aggressive—“

“Not aggressive? It damn near almost killed you!” interjected Gastel, for being self
appointed guardian of the Inquisitor he had seen himself as having failed her.

“Almost killed me, yes. It could’ve but it didn’t. Same for Zareen, she was unharmed, at
least physically” Lilith took a quick glance at the pilot, Zareen’s scar echoing lightly, as if
reacting to their conversation ‘protect..’ lashed into her mind. Phoebe continued, unaware
“As much as I hate to do this, until we know more of its nature, we will keep it aboard. Also
Talleia this is non-negotiable”

“I wouldn’t dare cross an Inquisitor.” the naval of icer brought both her hands in the air as
if surrendering.

“Anyw—yes Zareen?” noticing the young woman bring her hand up.

“I—uhm… think you forgot introductions again.” A half-smile formed on her face,
embarrassed at the prospect of interrupting the meeting.

“Oh you’re correct. Well this is Talleia Van Hart, the ship’s captain.” Quickly added the
Inquisitor.

“Nice to meet you Zareen.” She bowed her head lightly “I was told you’d rather skip the
formalities so you can just call me Talleia.”

“Likewise and yes thank you, all these titles and preixes sound pompous and
egocentric…” lowering her voice on the latter half of her sentence.

Talleia brought her hand to her mouth, whispering back “Agreed, some naval admirals
would rather you lick their arse than do a proper job” she then moved away with a slight
chuckle, reciprocated by Zareen.

“Language” Phoebe sighed “Anyways as I was going to say, we’re going to need to conduct
many more tests and this will most likely take a considerable amount of time. I’m an
Inquisitor which means my work is endless and I will have to tend to other matters, so in
the time being—while we perform this ‘side experiment’ to further understand our
unwelcome psychic guest, I am giving you a temporary spot in my retinue.”

“Oh—wow.“ was all the farmer from a backwater planet with the bare minimum tithe
grade could say. To be invited into an Inquisitor’s retinue? This was almost everything she
could’ve dreamed of, she’d be able to see the galaxy, go on adventures and face mighty
creatures, everything her dad would tell her about. Was it now her turn for adventure?
And yet… the Knight, did she wish to continue operating it? Her last experience had been
traumatic, she didn’t wish for it to become a recurring phenomenon. Was she up to the
task? Was this the path she wished to take? Maybe—

“I should add this isn’t a choice. You either join willingly or I can lock you up until Bel
needs you for more tests.” Phoebe cut Zareen’s thought process short. At least it
simplified her decision, she chuckled internally.

“Guess I have no choice but to join then!” Barely hiding her growing enthusiasm as a smile
plastered itself onto her face. Suddenly Gastel handed Zareen what appeared to be a
dozen dataslates cutting her expanding joy in its tracks. Atop the pile was a simple sheet
of paper with written “First Day!” on it.

Several seconds passed in silence as the newly appointed member questioned what had
been given to her “Now that you’re part of the team, you can ill in these reports for
everything you’ve done these past few days, don’t worry you’ll love it!” the sarcasm was
basically screaming out of him, but this was the reality, inquisitorial business was not just
adventure but instead a tall pile of paperwork that seemingly had no end.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” she thought out loud thinking about the countless hours she
was about to spend writing her first reports.

Lilith added “I’ll also have Sasin bring you up to speed on Imperial history, interplanetary
politics, Code of Law, and any other knowledge you’ll require. Gastel will also be taking
care of you combat training, although Herculaar did offer himself as well if you enjoy
going to the medical bay.”

‘I really should have just stuck to farm work…’

---

“How long did the Thirteenth Black Crusade last?”

“4 standard years.”

“[01110010 01100101 01100011]” Sasin’s mechadendrite twitched. “The Thirteenth
Black Crusade lasted 3.82 standard years, not 4. Inaccuracy gets regiments killed. Again.
When did the Indomitus Era begin?”

“999.M41 with the awakening of Primarch Robute Guilliman.” Answered diligently the
latest member of Phoebe’s retinue

The mechadendrite’s jaw snapped “Incorrect, Primarch of the Ultramarines”

“Kark, that’s a minor detail…” sighed Zareen, voicing her annoyance.

“No detail is minor. On the field, everything is of utmost importance, you must be able to
recount knowledge perfectly, any mistake could cost you your life.” Tried as she did, Sasin
found it difficult to teach the ledgling woman and yet she understood the importance of
her work.

“Of the Ultramarines…” pretending to speak using her hand.

“[00100110 10111111 0011011] It might appear useless now but believe me, you will
look fondly upon these lessons. Anyhow let us continue, Necrons are made of?”

Zareen took a deep breath. “Fine, Necrons are a xeno race from the age beyond Humanity,
they are a robotic humanoid species made of Necrodermis, also known as Living metal
which allows-“

Sasin continued listening to her pupil’s renewed diligence, if she could still smile she
certainly would be doing so.

---

The servitor came at her with extraordinary speed, she chose the difficulty setting and
was ready for it. As it swung a punch towards her left side, Zareen shifted her weight onto
the right, swiftly evading the incoming blow as it whistled beside her. Before she could
return to normal another punch aimed for her head from the right lew into view, the
machine’s hydraulics thrusting it at terrifying speeds, she had no time to dodge, instead
hiding herself behind her worn knuckles, absorbing the blow before shifting back into an
attack stance, striking the servitor’s leshy face, its jaw dislocating and crashing into the
upper mouth. However unlike a real opponent, her foe felt no pain and restarted its
assault in retaliation. Zareen continued evading and blocking almost every strike, waiting
for an opening, her ists began to bleed as the skin broke from repeated blows. Those
strikes that went through her guard pained her greatly and yet she swallowed her
growing agony as ribs broke, a farmer’s daughter couldn’t afford to spit blood on an
Inquisitor’s deck.

Eventually she found her chance, the servos inside the training servitor’s left arm issured
under the repeating pressure, leading to a sloppy swing, giving an easy opening for her to
counterattack. She struck the servitor in its failing servos, snapping the components in two
and removing its arm. Zareen continued by driving her fist into its already damaged face,
as it completely buckled under the pressure, breaking all of its central nervous motors
and sending the dummy off its mechanically enhanced legs and onto the solid plasteel
floor.

“Well I’ll be damned” exclaimed the militarum veteran from outside the makeshift built
training ring. “Bel won’t be too happy about the servitor though.“ he laughed, it brought
him some joy thinking about the tech priest’s annoyance, he knew Bel’s systems had
recorded the ‘death’ of the dummy servitor. He turned to the wall beside him and etched
another kill-mark. “At this rate we’ll run out of servitors.”

Zareen took several seconds to catch her breath, spit out blood and wiped the sweat off
her face. She looked at her knuckles, bloodied and now covered in machine oil from the
killing blow. “Fighting comes a lot easier to me than learning about what’s happened
between 152.M32 and 153.M32…”

Gastel threw her a water bottle which she caught handily “I can conirm it is a pain in the
arse but it’s important. It took me a damn long time to remember all that nonsense but it’s
helped me immensely since.”

“Emperor curse me, not you too.” She sighed, ready for another lecture.

“Listen girl, that stuff is important, ighting with your ists or a laspistol might be one thing
but a lot of what we do is also a battle of the mind” he tapped his temple with a inger “If
you’re not 100% in it, some crazy heretic could snap you in half before you even know it.
I’ve seen it happen… good men and women who’ve fought their entire lives, best of the
best… all it takes is one damn powerful psyker on the other team.” His tone had gotten
serious, he was no longer laughing, this was a personal heart to heart. “The moment they
get in your head and you can’t keep up? Boom” He gestured as if his head exploded,
remaining silent a few seconds after. “That’s why it’s important. It trains the mind,
remember that well kiddo.”

Zareen stood silent, bottle in hand. She could only imagine the horrors that awaited her
outside the safety of the ship. “I get it, kind of at least- I don’t want to let anyone down.”
Her scar pulsed lightly sending shivers down her spine, echoing the word ‘protect’.

“That’s the spirit!” he chuckled, returning to his light-hearted demeanor. “Now go take a
shower and get dressed, I don’t want to get another rundown from Bel because I kept you
too long. He’s really touchy on these tests you’re running. Oh and go see Sasin about your
injuries as well, she’ll ix those right up for you.”

“Will do boss and thanks for the pep-talk.” She grabbed her towel, using it to wipe away
more sweat from her face and arms before heading back into the cold corridors of the
vessel.

“Anytime kid” his smile fading as Zareen left, leaving him alone in the sweat ridden room.

He brought himself back to that moment—the smell of boiling blood, seared lesh that
belonged to his comrades only moments prior. Private Edina’s eyeballs boiling in their
sockets as the warplame took her. Thirty years later, and he still tasted the promethium
tainted vomit in his throat. He shook himself out of it “I need a drink.” Sighing to himself.

---

A full standard year had passed since the incident in the hangar. “Please proceed /
instructions follow to the letter.” Spoke Bel over the the vox, straight into her helmet.

“Yes yes, we’ve done this a million times, I’m ready”

“Proceeding with test #429 / beginning pict recordings / Docking clamps disengaged /
Knight is free to move.”

Zareen felt the locks loose themselves, she took one step to gather her bearings once
more, the scar on her neck, right below her implant pulsed with life. The giant moved its
leg in unison as hydraulics hissed into action, following its pilot’s exact thoughts. The
farmer turned pilot triple-checked the diagnostics in front of her and once she felt
conident, she proceeded with Bel’s orders: moving across the hangar, walking backwards,
rotating her arms counter-clockwise, dry iring her weapon… It was a cumbersome dance
that Zareen had gotten used to by now.

Ever since the incident with Phoebe, the shadowy igure failed to resurface, much to Bel’s
annoyance after countless hours of tests. Whatever it was, it had gone into hiding. Sasin
had hypothesized it was akin to wild animal, it had lashed out in self-defense during the
encounter with the Inquisitor and now that it was it scared, it opted to hide itself for its
own safety. Herculaar joined now and then during the Knight’s short excursions, his eye
as a man of the forge giving a second outlook to Bel’s analytical process. The Astartes
admired the Knight’s inner workings, praising its frame for its simplicity and effectiveness.
However even he failed to read anything unusual from the Prideful Warden, he would
peruse along its adamantium shell, carefully sliding his large hand across it, feeling any
inconsistencies in the forging process that might explain the unwelcome presence.

Zareen swung her blade around mimicking the moves she learned from combat training,
the Knight’s hydraulics’s buzzing as the heavy machinery came into action, all under the
watchful gaze of Bel. She had slowly regained her conidence in her piloting capabilities
over the course of long months, the initial trauma from the incident had subsided. The
ancestors spoke softly in her ears, their tone merely a suggestion, perhaps even they
feared what had happened. She dared not ask directly about the warp entity, Sasin had
prohibited it anyways, an out of control Knight in the middle of a void-faring vessel could
spell disaster. Instead she honed her skills. Her initial af inity to the controls could only
carry her so far, in battle she would need to know her every step with absolute clarity, lest
she lose control and find herself on the opposite end of a Daemonbreath thermal cannon.

A loud alarm blared a shrieking sound, the telltale sign the test had been concluded, still it
sent shivers down Zareen’s spine every time. “429 Concluded / Return to dock / Thank
you cooperation / Pilot Zareen” she recited Bel’s words in her head in a playful manner, it
was always the same apart from the growing number.

Once in place, the clamps auto-engaged and the mechadendrite in her neck retracted back
into its sheath. She hit the hatch release key and swiftly climbed out onto the carapace, slid
down the ladder and jumped off before reaching the bottom, the synth-suit soles hitting
the ground with their inbuilt compensator relieving the stress from the impact. Carefully,
she removed the data-collecting suit and put back on her worn tan jacket that Gastel had
gifted her, it still bore the tattered insignias of his old regiment. The pilot-in-training
looked back at the adamantium giant before grabbing her water bottle and walking off,
she would receive a debrief dataslate to ill in later in her chambers courtesy of
Bellegymere. Before that though she took the elevator to the observation deck, situated
right below the Bridge, it gave a beautiful unobstructed view of the ship from high above.

Zareen enjoyed taking her breaks by staring into the empty void of space, it helped calm
her nerves after interfacing with the Prideful Warden. She sat on a bench right by the
armored viewing glass and took a large sip of re-filtrated water.

“How did it go? Another uneventful test number four two seven?” a voice broke the silence from the
room’s port side, it was Talleia.

“Four hundred twenty-nine tests actually. Four hundred twenty-nine variations on ‘results
nominal.’” Answered the resting Zareen.

“How much more of these do you think Bel will make you perform?”

“Depends, how long do techpriests live?” she chuckled.

Bel? Ooh at least until the Emperor gets off his chair” the navy woman laughed back. Over
the course of a year Zareen had gotten familiar with the members of the crew to varying
degrees, however with Talleia their bond almost reached sisterhood. The captain had lived
a similar upbringing to her, a backwater planet that barely left a footnote in the annals of
history, suddenly thrust into the spotlight as an Ork raiding party sought new hunting
grounds. Talleia had proved herself a hardy survivor, and with a talent for voidship
operations during her Schola Progenium years, she quickly rose through the ranks as a
prodigy only to see herself stuck at the rank of ship’s captain. She excelled in almost every
facet of naval warfare, except leet operations. Whenever it came to wielding multiple
ships in battle, she seemed to fail at every opportunity.

Eventually the Navy wrote her off and the failed-prodigy ended up captain of an lone
cruiser belonging to Inquisitor Baarneas, succeeded by Inquisitor Phoebe. Her
professionalism and excellency contrasted with her crude personality off-duty, with one
too many bottles of amasec Talleia could border on heresy with her snarky remarks. Most
importantly to Zareen though, the naval of icer was honest, she never minced her words
and would not shy away from antagonizing others if it meant telling the truth.

They both remained in silence after their short joyful outburst, staring into great
emptiness of space, the stars burned cold and indifferent beyond the armored glass.

“Have you talked to Phoebe much lately?” asked the sitting pilot.

“Let me think…” she paused for several long seconds, truly pondering when last they
spoke “I think she was present during our last ship-operations debrief? That was nine
standard days ago but I don’t remember if she spoke or not. Last I heard she’s been knee
deep in investigating the latest resurgence of House Valenmour”

“I see.” She’d heard news of her father’s house but it seemed so distant and disconnected
from her.

“What is it, do you miss our dear psychic Inquisitor?” the captain laughed, placing her
hand on Batal’s head and rubbing it to mess with the poor woman’s hair.

“Hey hey stop it!” she moved herself to the side to avoid the thrashing hand above, ixing
her hair rapidly “No it’s just—I don’t think I’ve actually talked to her in months. When I
irst got here, she would check up on me occasionally, she’d invite me to do report
debriefs and stuff. Then over the course of like two months, it went from daily to weekly
to monthly—and now all I get is a ‘Report Acknowledged’ on the cogitator in my room.”

“So you do miss her! How sweet of you.” She grinned as wide as her mouth allowed.
Zareen sighed in response.

“I think what’s happened is you’ve now reached the Lilith stage of ‘I know you therefor I
don’t need to spend more time, I trust you’ll do your work properly’” Talleia attempted to
imitate the Inquisitor’s posh accent with mixed results, it did make the exhausted pilot
chuckle a little though. “Phoebe is not like you and I, she might look like us and she might
even show emotion or seemingly try to create a relationship, but at the end of the day,
she’s not us. For Phoebe, its all about achieving goals, doing the Emperor’s work, saving
the galaxy one problem at a time, you get the idea. She’s done the same to me, Gastel, Bel,
Sasin and even Herculaar, at irst she cozy’s you up into a sense of companionship and
once you’ve been molded to her wishes and you’re ready to march at her tune, she moves
onto the next task. If I had to guess why: Inquisitor training, they chew you up if you start
having merry ideas. I heard long ago they’d make those who formed friendships fight
each other to the death – it’s just a story but you understand what I’m getting at.”

Zareen listened diligently, every word stung because she knew her friend spoke true. But
Lilith had been the irst person she’d talked to after the events on Onerth and she’d
grown attached, someone who had seen her at her worst and still tried to pulled her out
of it. Part of Zareen refused to heed Talleia’s words, she wanted to believe the cold
calculating Inquisitor was capable of human interaction, she’d seen and felt it, it couldn’t
all have been a ploy.

“Trust me Zee, you’re better off thinking of her as a ‘Social Interaction’ servitor
convincing until you notice it cycling through the same ive emotional responses, or like a
vox-recording playing the right words at the right time but with no soul behind it, just
circuits and duty. Just don’t tell her I said that.”

“Well I do have to report every thing I do-“

“Do that and I’m ‘accidentally’ venting you and your Knight off my ship next test” They both laughed in unison, it helped lift Zareen’s spirits.

“Anyways I gotta get back to work, take care and catch you for dinner mayhap? Quipped
Talleia, beginning to leave.

“Yeah that sounds great, just if you invite Gatel, tell him to start drinking after dinner, not
before.

“No promises!” she shouted across the room, the door closing behind her.

Zareen now sat alone, her smile fading into a saddened frown. Was this really the best
course of action? Just accept it and move on? She let out a deep long sigh, grabbed her
now empty bottle and walked towards the door, the dataslate in her room wasn’t going to
write itself… Although the Inquisitor’s guiding company would’ve helped, she could’ve
even prepared her favorite beverage, a sweet alcoholic herbal drink with a hint of almond,
more commonly known as Dammassine. Phoebe had shown her where to steal from the
ship’s cantine to gather the ingredients, even if she also supposedly had her own
emergency stash. Those few rare, genuine laughs from the Inquisitor as Zareen attempted
to learn the precise concoction’s requirements ached worse than any training injury.

“Throne I’m reminiscing again…” she thought out loud in the empty corridors. “Maybe the
solution really is amasec, is this how Gastel does it…”

“You’re going to take a glass?” a voice echoed behind her, Zareen jumped higher than
she’d ever done before, dropping her bottle onto the cold loor and screaming “KARKING
HELL! Don’t sneak up like that!” Her voice booming out of her chest, she then took a few
seconds to catch her breath “I thought my heart was about to grow limbs and run off!”

“Expecting the expected gets agents killed.” the voice was cold but soft, lowing like a
melody. She recognized it as she spun around to face her torturer. There stood Lady
Phoebe, pale as wraith in her signature long black coat, rosette dangling from its chain
around her neck, she carried a dataslate with its text a crimson red, marking itself as
crucially important. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun in contrast to her usual carefully
crafted ponytail, her alabaster skin showed no blemishes—the only imperfections the
shadows pooling beneath eyes, and scent of ozone and dried ink clung to Phoebe— the
perfume of sleepless nights spent over reports.

“Holy Terra—!” Zareen’s heart stalled, had her brooding summoned the Inquisitor? “What
are you even doing here? I thought only Talleia and I ever came up to the observation
deck.” She asked, picking up the fallen bottle.

“Correct, however I came seeking you. There is a matter I wish to discuss.” She spoke in
her usual detached tone.

“Me? Did I mess up a report? Have I do—”

Lilith cut her off, “Nothing of the sort, worry not. Nor will it be an interrogation, follow me,
away from prying eyes and ears.”

With every sentence the Inquisitor spoke, Zareen had more and more questions.

‘What could she possible need that requires my physical presence? She’s been perfectly ine
doing everything else through a third-party until now, and what did she mean with prying
eyes and ears?’ She thought to herself, creating wild explanations as they walked down the
empty corridors. Whatever Phoebe had in store for her, the scar on her neck burned in
warning – though whether against the Inquisitor or the loneliness that drove her to follow,
Zareen couldn’t say.

---

As they kept walking, Zareen realized this was a part of crew quarters she’d never been
to, despite that she had been almost everywhere as she ran around the ship, training her
endurance.

“Is this—?”

“My quarters? Yes, ironically the only place we shall ind peace.”

‘Peace from what? Were the walls listening in to their every word?’

“Is this where you reveal yourself to be a cultist and sacri ice me to some dark god?” she
chuckled nervously, attempting to use humor to calm her rising anxiety.

“If I sought to use your entrails for nefarious purposes, you would’ve died long ago” If
this was Lilith’s attempt at humor, it did not calm the young agent.

Phoebe took her rosette and slid it into the servitor’s open mouth beside the door. The
throat-machinery buzzed to life, gears turning as it scanned the metallic object. The eyes lit
green and the door opened. She took back her rosette and entered into the chambers, the
lights came on automatically. Zareen followed hesitantly, turning around sharply as she
heard the door close behind, its locks reengaging.

Batal carefully took in every detail of the Inquisitor’s room. It was much smaller than she
expected, barely enough space for a bed, a small desk and the associated toiletries, she
thought someone with such status as an Inquisitor would be allowed greater beneits.
Then again Phoebe’s ‘work’ chambers were much more grandiose, with gilded gold
aplenty, this in comparison resembled Zareen’s own room. What shocked her more
though was the state of everything, the bed sheets looked as if they’d been through a
storm, and the desk faired no better, it was overlowing with books, dataslates and clothes,
clean or not was anyone’s guess. Taking in the sights made Sasin’s diligent teachings about
keeping a perfect order in everything ring hollow. At the same time the disorder
humanized her in a way Zareen had never seen. Part of her wanted to preserve this rare
glimpse of the woman beneath the rosette.

“Uhm“ simply said Zareen, no other words came through as she remained in confused
awe.

Phoebe was reaching under her desk “Wait—give me a second—there got it.” She lipped
what looked like a tiny switch and everything suddenly became muted in the pilot’s mind,
as if someone was covering her ears, her scar pulsed in retaliation, almost heating up.
“You’ll get used to it, just give it a few seconds”.

The Inquisitor spoke true, with time her hearing returned to normal, her mind no longer
feeling pressed, the scar falling silent once again as well. “What was that?”

“Psychic shielding. I learned it from my mentor, even some of the inquisition’s best
assassins failed see through it, its a long story.” Phoebe’s tone had dramatically changed,
she had dropped her cold professionalism, appearing much more ‘human’, almost laid
back. She threw her coat onto the bed, revealing her fragile frame, almost as if made of
glass. “The short version is this room is now the only place where whatever happens,
stays here.”

“Are we being watched? Spied on?”

“Yes, the others don’t trust a young psychically gifted Inquisitor, so they lurk, waiting for a
moment to strike.”

“I don’t follow, what ‘others’?”

“The Inquisition, our line of duty demands skepticism but some take it too far. Especially
when it scares them.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Phoebe took a deep breath “Like I said, long story I won’t get into now. Instead lets get
back to earlier, I need your help so take a seat please” she gestured to the chair opposite
of her desk, quickly removing the trinkets atop it. Zareen slowly walked, narrowly
avoiding the littered books on the loor and sat on the chair, Lilith had taken a seat behind
the desk. “To be honest, I’m kind of stuck…” She sighed. “I’ve been working on several
different cases lately, including your Knight which has spread my resources very thin. And
now I’ve been given the task of looking into House Valenmour’s sudden aggressive
resurgence. I just don’t have have the time and material to effectively conduct my duties.”

“And how do I it in all this?”

“I’m trusting you because I don’t believe you are capable of betrayal.” Zareen was taken
aback by the comment. “Don’t take it badly, its a sort of educated guess based on the
emotions you give off. Your reports omit nothing—not even your failures. You also
haven’t lied even once since our irst interrogation, even during our one-on-one sessions,
you never tried to be anything but yourself, that is why I’m trusting you today.”

“That’s probably because I’m a terrible liar…” quipped Zareen

“Correct on that” the Inquisitor smiled faintly “Anyways lets get back to the matter at
hand, the short form is I am going to ask of you to do something incredibly risky and
stupid with me. The odds of us dying are pretty high. This isn’t an order so you can back
out if you so desire.”

“Incredibly risky and stupid? Am I really talking to Lilith right now?”

“I know, cold and calculating Lady Phoebe but I’m at my wits’ end, if I don’t deliver results
the vultures breathing down my neck are going to have a feast.” Phoebe broke eye
contact, almost like she was ashamed of her situation. “Either my superiors get a neat
report detailing the House’s goals and potential areas for counterattack or I end up locked
in some cell awaiting execution for alleged heresy.” Her voice cracking slightly, her fear
almost imperceptible apart from her hand gripping her rosette tightly. “Hence my… drastic
measures.”

“I wasn’t aware things were this dire. If there’s any way I can help, as long as there’s no
reports” She tried to lift the gloomy mood that had set.

“This is an under the table operation, no records, no reports, just you and me being very
stupid.”

Talleia’s words echoed in Zareen’s mind, unsure if this was Lilith truly being honest or
was this another ploy to garner sympathy. Yet the woman before her now—frayed at the
edges, gripping her rosette like a lifeline—was no predator. Just another soul drowning in
the Emperor’s work. She took a deep long breath before answering, yes Phoebe could be
toying with her again but at the same time she deeply missed their interactions, even if it
was only for a short moment and the emotions were one-sided, she wanted to experience
it once more. “Alright I’m in. What’s the worst that can happen.”

“Worst case we both get possessed by Daemons and the entire ship is lost with all hands.”

“Oh-“

“Still want to help?”

“Frag it, the Emperor didn’t conquer Terra by sitting on his arse.”

“Perfect, operation ‘this-is a-terrible-idea’ is a go. First thing’s irst, context: I need to know
why House Valenmour has suddenly decided to alter its usual modus operandi to instead
sail out as a one single large leet. What is so important to them that it requires their full
strength. Part two: you are the daughter of Gregor Batal who’s had a direct connection to
the current court of the House, albeit before their fall. Part Three: I am going to mind-link
with you psychically to peer into the court’s possible reasonings for their crusade. Any
questions?”

“You’re going to what?”

“Your bloodline is the key to inding what the enemy’s goals are. Essentially I will look into
your mind and dig through your genetic memory to trace a link back to your Father and
through his memories trace back to a current member of the court and inally use that to
listen in.”

“I- What?”

“Whatever it doesn’t matter, all I need is for you to be completely crystal clear on your
intentions. This will require both of us to be absolutely perfectly stable, after all we’re
essentially taking a dive into the warp.”

“Crystal clear how? Like clear conscience or conident in this mission?”

“Bit of both, I’m also going to need you to trust me completely. Follow my voice the entire
way through and under absolutely no circumstance, ever listen to anything else. Again,
this is a matter of life or death.

“100%”

“Good to go then, whenever you’re ready put both your hands on the table with your
palms up.” Zareen followed her instructions to the letter, breathing carefully.

“This is going to feel confusing at irst but again, follow my voice and everything will be
fine.”

Phoebe brought her hands upon her guest’s, took one last long breath and focused all of
her psychic energy onto the poor soul sitting across her.

Her palms burned where Phoebe touched her, as if the Inquisitor’s ingers were hooks
sinking into her soul. She began to smell ozone and her tongue felt a chill as crystals
formed atop it. The scar on Zareen’s neck pulsed to life with a burning sensation ‘Danger!
Leave! Cannot Protect!’ echoed throughout her mind as her world faded into obscurity,
The edges of her mind frayed like torn lesh, weeping blood—Solomon’s blood, hot and
metallic, just as it had been in the forest.

---

Once more she knelt there, once more her brother lay headless in front her, once more
the smell of seared lesh permeated the air, once more her nightmare began again.

“Why? Why does it always come back to this? Why? Why?” screamed Zareen, tears
streaking once more. Whatever she did, her past would come to haunt her.

“You left us,” a voice spoke, syllables dripping like sap from a poisoned tree. “While you
played at being heir, we rotted.

“What? Who’s there?” she got up and looked around, seeing only trees as far as the eye
could see.

“You could have saved us” it continued.

“W-what?” to her horror she inally found the source of the voice, the headless body of
Solomon was was standing in front of her, the voice emanating from the wound with
blood still gushing out from the torn veins.

“You killed us.”

“No no no this can’t be real— ” she fell on her back, the reanimated body slowly making
its way to her.

“Join us in death.” Suddenly the corpse leaped at her, its hands had turned into avian claws
as it aimed for Zareen’s face. She rolled out of the way at the last second, got up and ran
away as fast as she could.

“Zareen! My voice!” suddenly Phoebe spoke into her mind, she greeted it like sweet nectar.

“Thank the Emperor, where are you?!”

“Focus on my voice.”

The woman, still covered in her brother’s blood closed her eyes and focused on Lilith’s
every word. She felt the world changing around her, the warm morning sun peering
through the tall trees replaced by a cold void, she opened her eyes and found herself
facing the Inquisitor.

“Good we’ve been able to connect” was all the psyker said.

“What the frag was that? I was attacked by my dead brother’s headless corpse?!”

“Remember what I said? Only ever listen to my voice and no one else’s. They will try to
tempt you, they will try anything just to trap you forever.”

Phoebe’s words sent shivers down her spine, the warp was truly terrifying.
“Now I need to ind a link to your father. I’m going the need the strongest memory you
have, it’ll make the process much easier for me.”

Her strongest memory? She had just escaped it.
“Thats when—my dad—died .”

“Perfect, focus on that moment.”

“Perfect? This is me!” Zareen roared. “Not some data-slate story for you to scrape clean!
My dad was everything to me?! Do you even care about any of this?”

“Throne Zareen! This is just an illusion! The sooner we get done with this, the sooner
we’re out of this hellscape. You can mourn all you want later.”

“How could I have been so wrong! I’m really an idiot for thinking anything else lowed
through your veins than pure duty. Talleia was right about you! Kark me I’m so stupid.”

“You can admonish me all you like later but can we get back to work before I lose control
and we both die?”

“I—“ the heart-broken Zareen took a few moments, collecting her thoughts before shaking
them away and focusing on the task at hand once more. The memory of her dying father,
in his last moment as he poured himself out to her, convincing her to wield the Prideful
Warden and save herself.

The forest unfolded once more like a rotten tapestry, threads of reality rearranging into
another nightmare. Her father lay on the loor in front of her, his leg a mix of charred
lesh and bone. And yet something was different, his eyes were hollow, instead a ominous
dark energy lowed through them.

“Zareen—You could have saved me.” It spoke.

“I know my father’s voice, warpilth,” she snarled. “He died begging me to live – not
whining for salvation.”

“Oh? But I see your heart aches, expecting her to be any different than she’s shown so
many times?”

“What? What are you talking about abomination?”

“Lies Masks. Manipulation. Dare I say tools of an Inquisitor?” the voice chuckled. “Tell me
little Knight—did it hurt when she used your own family as a tool? Used their suffering
just to save her own skin?”

“No—She—“

“She groomed you,” the daemon crooned. “Plucked your grief like a harpist plucks strings.
Tell me – when she irst touched your mind, did you feel the nails she left there? Have you
ever asked your dear Inquisitor how many tools she’s thrown away, tools just like you.”

“That’s not—It can’t be—“

“For the last time Zareen! Only! My! Voice!” screamed Phoebe, her voice booming in
Zareen’s mind, as if a bolter had been ired right by her ears.

“Kark this! I hope you found what you’re looking for.” She turned to the inquisitor, her
hands seemed to dance around a sphere of raw warp energy, tendrils of lightning
spiraling around it.

“Got it.” Lilith snapped her ingers, and the tapestry fell apart once more as it morphed
into a dark closed room, its walls littered with tools and spare parts that belonged to the
great machina of House Valenmour, the armor plates awaiting repair, a gleaming blue with
traces of the House’s sigils.

“This place—!”

“It appears we’ve found ourselves in one of the many Sacristan workshops of Kenavera.”
Carefully added Phoebe, already being in the the lair of the beast made her task simpler,
now all they needed was to ind a link back to the Court.

The room remained empty apart from both ethereal igures, the air was full of machine oil
and the silence was deafening although faint fanfare could be heard far off. Suddenly the
steel door’s rotating bolts came to life, unlocking themselves as it swung open.

Two figures marched into the room, both wearing the armor of House Valenmour, their
helmets removed.

“Blasphemy is all I hear Terhil!” exclaimed the igure leading the other into the room.

“Is that all you think about? Can you not see the bigger picture old friend?”

“My father!” shot Zareen, she instantly recognized one of the men, despite his younger age
and one of his signature scars missing above the right eye, he was undeniably Gregor
Batal. The two Knight pilots made no reaction of the young woman’s surprise.

“They can’t hear us, this is simply a recreation of a memory of his. Unlike the forest, we
are simply observers, this time you won’t be able to fail at following my orders.” Her last
sentence pierced like daggers, Zareen could feel the Inquisitor’s anger on her arms as the
hairs spiked. “Do you recognize the other man?”

“Y-yes, its Terhil Myrlaugur, they were close friends, him and my father… At least before
Chaos’ corruption.”

“Correct, he is also brother to the current Monarch of House Valenmour which is perfect
for our mission. Let us keep listening for now. This conversation could prove interesting”

The two men continued, the door had been closed and they had made sure the room was
empty.

“Look I get it, you think Antonius is not it to be King – I don’t disagree but this is out of
our control now. Our duty is to the Crown, regardless of our personal feelings.”

“Don’t you see it Gregor?” Terhil paced himself around the room, his true emotions had
surfaced. “Our House is rotting! We used to be known across the sector, our enemies
trembled at the mention of our name, and our allies rallied like never before! The
Emperor himself had spoken directly to our ancestors! We mattered Gregor.” He paused,
letting his friend bask in his outburst “Now all we are is another Knight House with
numbers on a dataslate to order around as the Imperium sees it.”

“I understand what you’re saying friend-“

“Of course you do! We all do! Antonius will be our nail in the cof in. He has no aspirations
beyond being an Imperial lapdog. Mark my words Gregor, this House will crumble with my
imbecile brother at its head.”

“What else do you offer then? Regicide? Revolution? Sedition? The Imperium will never
accept this, they will send their leets and remove us from the map.”

“Yes! Drastic measures! We need not fear the Emperor, there are others that can elevate
us back to our rightful place. With their help House Valenmour will shine once again, our
enemies will fall with our name upon their lips once more.”

“You speak of the voices in the warp?! Have you lost your mind Terhil?!” Her father could
not believe the words that had just been spoken. To speak of Chaos was punishable by
death, the laws appointed to them by the Imperium were as clear as the Astronomicon.

“We need not fear them old friend! I have communed with them already, they offer
unbelievable power, they offer to bring back our House’s glory!”

“They lie, cheat, and betray! Have you forgotten our teachings? Have your ambitions
blinded you to reason?!”

“Of all of our House, I expected you to understand! You, our champion who has seen how
the Imperium orders us around like a backwater regiment. You who has seen the powers
Chaos commands! Open your eyes to the Nine!”

Silence reigned, Gregor was too stunned to speak. His dearest of friends, the man he’d
trained and fought along since their youngest ages, now speaking of heresy beyond all
measures.

“I—This is madness—Cease all of this Terhil, I beg of you. Let us forget about this and go
to the Crowning ceremony. We can talk later about our House, there are other solutions.
Please dear friend.” His voice crackled, he could not believe what had transpired, his
denial overtook him. ‘He’ll see reason, I’m sure of it’ he thought to himself.

Terhil understood he was alone, even his closest ally would not follow him. Saving House
Valenmour befell to him and him only. “I apologize, my emotions took control over me.
You know how much this means to me Gregor but you are right. The matter of our House
can wait. Let us rejoin the ceremony and feast at the glory of our new Monarch.” He lied
through his teeth, even if Gregor could sense it, his denial screamed in his heart to accept
his friend’s hollow apology.

Both men left the room together, one with a dagger in his heart and the other a dagger in
his hand poised to bring Chaos to House Valenmour.

“He—my father never spoke of this.“

“This is indeed a troubling development… It appears the true monarch of House
Valenmour just spoke before us.” Phoebe fell deep in thought, her mental records of the
Chaos House had to be entirely rearranged. “We are not inished her however. I was able
to pluck a fragment of Terhil during his outburst, I believe by following this thread we will
ind our query.”

Zareen remained silent. Her father knew of Terhil’s heresy and yet he failed to act upon it- and he never conided this moment in her. Her heart ached at the possibility that she
never truly knew her father.

Lilith danced with her hands one last time, focusing all of her attention on Terhil and the
penultimate question : What was the House looking for across the cosmos? The dimly lit
workshop faded, its walls melting away as a new vista took its place: This time the ethereal
women found themselves before the court, now well into its corruption by the dark god
Tzeentch. A new scene took place, Terhil before the court as he brought the rest of his
House into his quest. The Lord of Change beside him stood terrifyingly, its feathers illed
with a dark malignant aura beitting of a Greater Daemon.

The Inquisitor froze at the sight of Khamosh, this mind-link was a dangerous prospect but
the Daemon upped the antics by a thousandfold. The powerful abomination possessed a
psychic force far beyond Lilith’s, in an instant it could crush both their minds, even in this
dream-like trance. Should it sense their intrusion into the memories past of Terhil, they
would cease to exist.

“L-Lilith—“ Phoebe shushed the woman with her hand, shaking her head to make Zareen
understand that speech was dangerously prohibited. With each passing moment they
risked discovery, but they had come so far, she would not back out without her prize.
The igures in the room continued their conversation, Terhil performing his theater play
as he continued his exposition. The matter of the resurgence of the Prideful Warden gave
way to shock on Zareen’s face, she dared not speak, the matter at hand shook her to her
core, even more so what followed : Ag’Drelir

Suddenly the scar on her back boiled with energy, the shadowy entity thrashed to life at
the mention of its name. The heat rose so high that she could not help herself and
screamed in agony as her back became engulfed in warplame. The scene around them
froze in unison, everyone but Khamosh who now stared straight into Zareen’s eyes with
both its hideous heads. She felt the daemons’s claws pierce her soul, its gaze burning itself
into her mind, the world around her burned in warplame.

Phoebe had been completely oblivious to what was transpiring, in her eyes Zareen
remained motionless by her side. And yet the burning woman screamed in agony as the
Daemon encircled her leeting mind, it feasted upon her lickering soul, plucking at it,
trying to determine her location in real-space. Her distress suddenly cut short as the
Daemon that stared into her was thrown away, its grip loosening enough that Phoebe
joined the burning nightmare. The Inquisitor saw Khamosh locked in battle against the
shadowy figure, Batal by her side barely registering as conscious.

“Throne!” the psyker reacted instantly, grabbing Zareen’s hand and before she could say
another word, the world around them vanished, being replaced by the untidy room they
had left only moments prior according to the clock by the wall.

Zareen slouched unconscious on the chair opposite of her. Lilith leaped over the table,
placing her hand by the woman’s neck, feeling her pulse. “Thank the Emperor—you’re
only asleep.” She muttered, the room smelled of ozone with a hint of crystallized blood, an
after-effect of the dangerous mind-link.

Their mission had been a success despite it all, she inally knew what House Valenmour
was after. Zareen and the Prideful Warden contained something incredibly important. “A
shard of the Changer of Ways himself… Ag’Drelir” the name remained upon her lips.
Phoebe got up from her chair and walked towards one of her many libraries, plucked a
book from its nest and pulled back a hidden container from inside the wall. She opened it
and took out one of its silver bottles, Dammassine written on it in beautiful golden ink. She
poured its contents into a quickly-cleaned glass and took a careful sip.

“Ag’Drelir” she mumbled, “What are you—a friendly daemon? Impossible…”

---

As she opened her eyes, it felt like she’d been run over by a Leman Russ, her whole body
ached as she gathered her bearings. She awoke in an unfamiliar bed, its sheets barely
contained in their housing, quickly she had guessed the terrible mess around her could
only be the hallmark of the Inquisitor’s personal quarters. By the night-table beside her a
lone dataslate lay there ‘Read this Zareen’ inscribed on the front page, Zareen promptly
picked it up and lipped through its contents:

“Good morning Zareen, at least whatever time you wake up. After our unsanctioned
operation, you were left knocked out, not in danger mind you, simply mentally exhausted
from what had transpired – so I took the liberty of letting you rest in my chambers. I’ve
noti ied the others that you would be missing your duties due to a ‘classified project’.

Should anyone poke around, even in pleasantry, you must absolutely not reveal anything,
under any circumstance. What transpired in my quarters will forever remain a secret
between us, understood?”

“You got it boss” the half-awoken Zareen mumbled to herself, she got up from the bed, still
dataslate in hand.

“Good.” The text continued, as if she anticipated Zareen’s response ‘think of it, you
probably know I’m reading this right now…’

“The operation itself was a tremendous success, our goal of discerning House
Valenmour’s objective is now clear: the retrieval of Ag’Drelir.” Her scare pulsed lightly as
its name found itself exposed by her reading eyes, this time not in warning—but
recognition. Zareen faintly remembered the nightmare, the lames, the Daemon’s claws—a
shiver dug itself throughout her spine.

“Whatever it is however remains a complicated mystery. The bad news is our foe has
armed itself with an ally of tremendous power, that a Lord of Change has taken upon itself
to lead this hunt is truly terrifying and will prove a serious obstacle, we must tread
carefully, more-so now that it knows we are not blind to it.” The creature’s eyes blinked
into her mind, as if it had left its mark on her.

“However all is not bleak, we retain the advantage at the moment: we can delay their hunt
as long as we need if we stay ahead of their leet – and we do not get caught by Terhil’s
own private ventures. That is all for now, I will continue my investigations on Ag’Drelir—
the ban on asking of it to the ancestors remains. We do not know enough and the risk is
too great.”

It stung, Zareen felt that the key to this mystery was the Throne and its ancestors—and
yet still she was barred from exploring it further. “I know you think its too dangerous but
we will never know if you shut yourself from it because of what happened a year ago.”
Zareen spoke out-loud, sighing to herself.

She continued reading, arriving at the inal paragraph “One last thing, thank you Zareen. I
understand we don’t see eye to eye due to professional differences—but I wish to thank
you for believing in me. Having to peruse through your trauma couldn’t have been easy
but thanks to you we inally hold power over our enemy, and you gave me more time than
the Inquisition would’ve ever granted me. From the bottom of my ‘cold witch’ heart, thank
you Zareen. (Yes I’m aware of Talleia’s nicknames for her dear Inquisitor.)”

The woman was stunned, this was the first time she’d ever heard those words, even if
they came off a dateslate and not the Inquisitor’s own mouth. Her mind scrambled once
again, for the life of her she could not discern Lilith’s true personality: at times she
seemed like nothing more than the icy witch the retinue saw her as – only ever showing
emotion as a ploy to achieve her goals, and other times it felt like Lilith was truly opening
up, revealing her inner fragile emotions. The Inquisitor’s indifference to the woman’s dark
memory of her father’s death showed clinical professionalism and yet, now that the
ordeal was over —she showed compassion? Which one was the real Phoebe? The words
felt too precise, like they’d been crafted to burrow under her skin. And yet… that scribbled
‘cold witch’ jab sounded like the Phoebe who’d laughed over stolen Dammassine.

“Raaah! Frag these emotions.” barked the woman “I’ll pass by the training ring and punch
a servitor to clear my mind…” Zareen dropped the dataslate onto the desk, beside an
empty glass, having left an additae “Next time at least let me sip some of your Dammassine
before we do perilous forays into my trauma-filled mind. Your room still smells of it.”

She exited the room, the reinforced door closing behind her with a deafening clang as
machinery spun to life, locking itself tighter than the Emperor’s own secrets. As she
walked the empty halls of the massive cruiser, memories of the ordeal formed in her mind:
Gregor knew of Terhil’s heresy and yet kept it under wraps – did he truly think his lifelong
friend would leave it all behind after having taken a bite of limitless power? What else did
her father keep to his grave? His shame brought him self-exile but Zareen had never
realized just how much he was actually responsible for their House’s demise. She
remembered how he’d called Terhil ‘the truest knight of their generation’ – was that guilt
in his voice all this time?

As she approached the large room that served them for combat training, she heard the
sounds of clashing ists and broken steel. Zareen opened the door and was greeted by an
angel dispensing wrath beyond all measure – the Astartes found himself surrounded by
combat servitors, their markings on their clinically shaved scalp marking them as the
toughest opponents one could pick from. Their appendage replaced with lethal weaponry,
some bore ranged weapons such as heavy stubbers or even bolters while others had
devastating chain-axes, swords larger than the average man, or a plethora of additional
arms, each ending in a sharp dagger.

Effortlessly the dark giant danced between each foe, dodging their attacks with such
precision it felt almost prerecorded, he knew exactly where swings would land, when
bullets tore through the air, and most importantly: when to strike back. With devastating
blows servitors fell one after another, their machinery ripped right out of the lesh that
encased them. When one of the servitors bore armor that resisted even the angel’s
mightiest blows, he tore off a weapon from another and used it to assault the armored
foe, easily slicing and piercing at the armor’s weak-points and sending the machine onto
the loor as it joined its lifeless brethren. At best Zareen would bag two servitors with
great pain in a session, and here before her Herculaar was tearing through them like a
melta through armor. Barely ifteen-seconds had passed before the Astartes remained
alone in the ring, two dozen servitors lay in pieces around him—if Bel was annoyed by
one servitor’s demise, this must be his worst nightmare.

“Oh hello Zareen, I had not seen you enter. Do you wish to use these facilities?” simply
spoke the giant, his gentle tone contrasting the massacre that had just taken place.
“O-oh no no, I-I sorry—didn’t expect anyone to—here.“ Was all the woman could mumble,
too stunned to formulate a coherent sentence. She took a few seconds to reboot her
metaphorical processor and started anew “I’m sorry I didn’t realize anyone trained at this
hour. I only came to let off some steam but I think Bel will have enough broken circuits for
one day.” She chuckled, looking at the scrapyard that became their training room.

The giant laughed back, his voice echoing throughout the room like a war-horn “Too true
Zareen, I normally reserve myself to the simulated battleields ighting holographic foes
but there’s no substitute for real battle—even if someone aboard disapproves.” Herculaar
continued in a subdued chuckle. He gravitated towards the port-side wall, passing through
the energy barrier that protected spectators from ongoing servitor parts or lost bullets, it
was only used for more intense training regimes, such as an Astartes’. Grabbing a long
towel, Herculaar wiped himself of both sweat, machine old and blood, the latter none of
which was his.

“Pray to tell, what aches you Zareen? If you will not do battle, would you spare an old man
his ear?” asked the giant, now sitting on one of the room’s benches.

Zareen followed, inding a seat beside him. “Old man? Right – you’re healthier than all of
us combined!”

“Three thousand two hundred and three years old, give or take a year in the warp.”

“Oh— here I thought Bel’s eight hundred and ninety eight years were colossal.“

“After the irst millennium, it goes by in a lash really. Before you know it, the second
millennium had past—and then the third. Although I did have my times in stasis, not all of
those years was I awake.” the Salamander chuckled, lightly reminiscing on years past.

“That’s—truly incredible, you must have seen so many things, so many sights that would
take the breath away from anyone, and so many adventures only a child could dream of.”

“Well I do have a few stories to tell.”

“Oh come on, share one at least with me—then I might share my own story.” she teased
Herculaar, she would never share the details of operation this-is-a-terrible-idea but there
are some things her heart needed to speak of.

“You have yourself a deal young pilot.” The Astartes spun his head towards the arena,
thinking back at his long years in the service of the God Emperor, in the service of man.
“Let’s see—there’s the time I stepped on Terra’s sacred soil, there’s the time four of my
brethren and I held a gate in the face of a thousands cultists, there’s the-“

“What about how you and Lilith met?” interrupted Batal

Herculaar paused “That story is not for me to tell, you’ll have to ask the headmistress
herself.”

The woman’s face showed disappointment, she knew wrestling such a story from Phoebe
would not be easy.

“How about instead that time I stood by the Lord Guilliman himself?”

“You what? Seriously? I would think the man far too busy.”

“Half-correct, this was not long after his reawakening, after Cadia fell—Lord Baarneas,
Phoebe’s mentor received a convocation. Many of the order had been called upon to
convene with the new reborn leader of the Indomitus era, to discuss events pertaining to
the latest Archenemy’s crusade and a path forward.”

Zareen listened to his every word, trying to imagine herself there.

“Even Phoebe herself had not be allowed to join, each Inquisitor was only allowed a single
member of their retinue—Lord Baarneas picked me to accompany him, this meeting was
an information gathering but equally a show of force to the other Inquisitors. He chose an
Astartes to follow him as to portray himself a diligent agent of the Throne, with an angel
by his side—signaling his judgment to be descended directly from the Emperor himself. It
was all a bit ridiculous if I may say so now, every Inquisitor trying to outshine the other.

“Throne I can imagine… All of those pompous agents trying to please Lord Guilliman…”

He chuckled in response “You’d make a fine Inquisitor yourself.”

“Emperor no—I’d rather throw myself into the Eye of Terror than meddle in that
business. Dealing with Lilith is already enough for me.”

“You have seen nothing if you think Lady Phoebe is too much—lest she hear us. Anyways,
the meeting itself was illustrious but equally amusing. The Inquisitors gathered all
expected a banquet, to feast upon the grandest delicacies the Imperium could offer,
discussing over the clattering of goblets—as these usually went. However Lord Guilliman
is a man of work, not pleasantries. Instead we all stood in the Macragge’s Honour’s
command center, coddled around the large holo-map in the center. One after another the
Inquisitor’s were asked to report on their current affairs and subsequently were
reassigned tasks that best it the goals of the Indomitus Crusade. All in all, it took seven
hours to get through everything.”

“7 hours? Throne.”

“Many grew restless but they dared not speak up against a son of the Emperor, it was
quite amusing dare I say.”

“I wish I could’ve seen their faces, like children wanting to leave supper before everyone
was inished.” She laughed to herself, Herculaar joined in.

“It would’ve been the highlight of that day were it not for Lord Guilliman’s splendor, he
radiated authority, not through strength but through his impeccable knowledge and
tactical brilliance. It was as if the entire galaxy’s happenings had been injected into his
brain, he would speak of events throughout the past ten thousand years as if he’d lived it.
The entire logistical network of our sector was crystal clear to him, it was awe inspiring. It
made me long for our dear Primarch even more than I’ve ever have.

“Vulkan right? Your Primarch?”

“Yes, master of the forge, Lord Vulkan. He is the beacon we aspire to be as Salamanders.”

“Makes me wonder how the galaxy was with all these Primarchs walking around – to set
eyes upon the Emperor, if it lives up to all the stories.”

“That it must have been.”

They both fell silent for several long seconds, imagining a world before Horus’ treachery,
a golden age of humanity.

“Well that was my story, now young one, will you uphold your end of the bargain?”

Zareen snapped out of her fantasies, she pondered how to translate her emotions while
not divulging anything that had transpired with Phoebe. “It’s —it’s about Lilith.”

“Throne you do not pick easy topics.”

She chuckled slightly at his attempt to ease her heart. “I don’t understand her.”

“None of us truly do, that’s her duty as an Inquisitor.”

“No no not in that way, not her work—its her emotions, who she truly is, what she actually
thinks of us… Maybe you have a better grasp, having known her for much longer than I
have. Talleia tells me she’s a servitor with no heart but duty to the throne, Sasin is of the
same opinion, Bel is… Bel, and Gastel thinks I’m just homesick and I should look to others
for ‘companionship’, whatever he’s implying with that.”

“Mhm I see. You are correct in that my views are drastically different from the others as I
have known Lady Phoebe since she was still a child. There is much that is better left alone,
or that is not for me to speak of, however I can say that her role weighs greatly upon her
shoulders.”

Lilith’s comments about vultures waiting to pick her apart rang once again in Zareen’s
mind, she had witnessed the psyker’s paranoia directly.

“To say Lady Phoebe lives on borrowed time is an understatement—her every move, her
every word, and her every thought is a calculation. Should she slip once her fate would be
sealed and dare I say ours with it.”

The Astartes’ words weighed as much as the anchors of old seafaring vessels. Pieces came
together in Zareen’s mind about the Inquisitor, she was not obsessed with her work or
simply too careless about the life of others—instead it was her obligation. She appeared
clinical, cold, and operated like clockwork because any other method could issure under
the pressure and doom her. Only through absolute dedication to the craft could she
survive.

“All this to say, there is a human underneath that coat—even if she has to toy and
manipulate to live another day. Her mentor taught her affection was a lever for her
enemies. A lesson she learned too well growing up.”

Zareen remained silent, digesting every word meticulously and trying to make sense of it
all. Finally she broke her silence: “Thanks Herculaar. Your insight has been invaluable, I
feel like I’m starting to understand her more, even if it’s only a little.”

“Normally people ask me questions about forgery or combat but this has been
refreshing.” He chuckled once again with his deep but gentle voice.

“Yeah—next time I’ll ask something simpler.” Her joy had returned, laughing with the
angel. “Although I do think we should trade stories more, I would love to hear more!”

“Anytime Zareen, for now though I must attend duties I’ve put off for too long.”

“More reports?”

“Always.” A smirk across his lips as he gathered his belongings and walked out towards
inevitable boredom.

The room was once more silent with the lonely Batal on her bench. Suddenly a pair of
servitors marched into the room, the room’s vox snarled as it spoke in binary, even
without Mechadendrite luency, ‘01001000-01110010-01100001’ needed no translation.
Without a sign of recognition towards the woman, the servitors went on to pick apart and
clean the scrapyard of battle dummies.

While they cleaned up in front of her, she thought back to the members of her newfound
family, Gastel’s friendly demeanor with a scent of amasec that taught her how to get out of
a tavern brawl, Sasin’s nurturing mechandendrites that kept her in shape, Bel’s analytical
eyes that helped her grow as a pilot, Talleia’s truthful blunt personality that made it easy
to conide in, Herculaar’s gentle giant nature that awed and inspired her—and Lilith, with
whom she shared a deep personal connection that somehow kept dragging her back to
the seemingly heartless witch.

Zareen caught herself smiling, a family—yes that’s what they were to her

---