Fields of Blood, Throne of Steel

A droplet of water falling falling from the sky, that’s what she felt like, a single lone droplet in an wide empty void. There was nothing else but her, her mind and soul contained between infinitely small fragile walls, it was cold, freezing and yet she remained as malleable as water. Her form flickered for an instant, a faint glow emanating from herself. She awoke chocking on the taste of ozone despite having no mouth, and her neck scar burning an unnatural cold despite having no body.

Falling and falling with every second that passed, Zareen gained more of her senses, she had no eyes and yet she felt them open, the void gave way to a surreal vista: the world around was a deathly black, light only ever emanated from sporadic lightning, gargantuan arcs of bright blue tinted tendrils that appeared like a creature lashing out. The glimpses of light gave way to a massive vortex in the distance, Zareen had seen them before, rare they might be but Onerth still had the occasional tornado, but this—this was different… Where the lightning looked like a monster throwing its arms out, this spinning behemoth was a giant looking to tear apart any who came close, and swallowing whole those that survived. The vortex’s edges formed fractal patterns that hurt to perceive—each twist containing smaller, identical vortices ad infinitum.

‘Was this the warp?’ she asked herself.

Even with this dance of monstrosities, she felt unaffected, untouched by the storms that ravaged around her, a fleeting sense of safety. Yet when she finally looked down, a river appeared, compared to everything else it felt strangely calm, a steady flow of what looked like water, but as Zareen focused herself onto it she saw its truth, a million droplets like her, not of water, but souls, some brighter than others but all encased in their very own walls: a true river of souls.

She recognized many of the souls, despite having no discernible features. She saw people of her town; the merchants, the guards, even her neighbors. One of them more familiar than the others : Solomon, his warm glow that she loved so much about him, a kind gentle soul that sought naught but the happiness of others. It brought her back to that scene, his mangled flesh that lay in front of her. He wasn’t alone, her mother was there too, her gentle smile, and Balphus with his signature laugh. The memories turned to the horrors of reality, Elanara’s outstretched hand as her back was torn apart, her guts mixed with blood and bile. Balphus’ lifeless face, wrecked by the damage, barely recognizable with his gutted eyes and skinless left-side. She could do nothing but watch them drift away along the river.

She traced it back, trying to find its destination, as her eyes followed the flow, many more rivers joined together, millions, billions of individual roads conjoined into a veritable torrent of souls. Her mind filled terror as the inevitable road led to its destination: the vortex. A tremendous torrent of souls that dashed and crashed into each other, as if thrashing around, raging against their doom, helpless as they disappeared under the maw of the vortex.

Falling and falling… She finally realized, she would join them too if she kept falling, another soul joining the terrible chorus, as they all fell into despair. She fought and fought but there was nothing she could do, she was but a droplet, a innocent droplet falling from the sky, raging against the dying of the light.

“The heir joins, another Valenmour to the slaughter!” a mysterious disjointed voice spoke, with a sinister laugh mimicking the shrieking of a bird.

But right before she fell into the river of souls- “No! Ag’Dresil!”.

---

“Human female, Alive but she has lost 28% of her blood”

“If she is to live, we must move fast.”

“Signs of corruption?”

“None visible, although I am registering odd readings in her back. Warrants investigation.”

“Call the shuttle for immediate recovery, and get large transport for the Knight, Bel will want to see it”

---

Several hours Later:

It felt like an eternity since that nightmare, the Death Guard raid played over and over in
her mind. Every time she tried and tried to save her family—to no avail. Was this
punishment? Had she disappointed the God Emperor? Was this repentance for her
failure? She had always seen the Emperor as a benevolent God and yet this was torture.
Then again, what had He done for her? Her father, her mother, her brothers… all dead at
the hands of the Archenemy, was this all part of his plan? Was this simply a test of her
faith? So many questions with answers that will never come and yet-

“This— prematurely, are you sure?” the sound of mechandendrites twitching rang in the
air.

A voice?! A savior? An executor? Zareen could barely hear the voice but it was there,
someone was near. She focused entirely on the voice, trying to grasp what was being said.

“Do it, I don’t want to risk having a cultist on my ship”

Cultist? A ship? Was she no longer on Onerth?

“Understood Lady Phoebe.”

Before she could form more questions, she felt her mind being ripped from its slumbering cage, as if a hand had reached into her cell and forcibly grabbed her out of it, like being awoken from a nightmare; Zareen’s eyes opened on their own, she woke up in sweat and trying to catch her breath. She was under a bright light trapped in the ceiling. She lay on a simple bed surrounded by cogitators, the room itself was fairly large and entirely made out of what appeared to be plasteel.

There were plenty more similar beds and their associated cogitators arranged around the room, her best guess was something similar to a house of healing. Three figures surrounded the bed, one a woman adorned in a long black coat with red accents, and a necklace featuring prominently a large ‘I’ shaped symbol, she recognized it as the symbol of the Inquisition, the same worn by those agents that came by in their sinister Black Ships. Her eyes were a vibrant blue, yet they didn’t appear natural but more akin to having lighting trapped in her pupils. Her hair was almost entirely black, safe from a few strands of blue, the same as her eyes. Her face was entirely untouched as if plucked from an infant, no blemishes, no buttons, no scars, nothing.

The figure to her right was slightly taller, it wore large red robes covering most of its body, she recognized them as the robes of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Her suspicions were confirmed upon seeing the figure’s face, almost entirely covered in metal augments. Their mouth was covered by a mask with the eyes hiding behind two large green lenses.

The final figure, left of the woman was much larger, so much so that it dwarfed the two others. It wore a green a green tunic, the light cloth revealing a behemoth of a man, Zareen had never seen anyone remotely this large, he had an almost supernatural feeling to him. His skin was a charcoal black and his eyes blazing red like embers. She had heard stories from her father of these mythical beings, armor as tough as tanks, moving as fast as bullets, and incredibly deadly—warriors sent by the Emperor to protect humanity, Space Marines.

The back of her neck pained as she moved, the mechandendrite’s intrusion had left a large scar that had required a serious operation.

“She is awake, the injection will only last several minutes, after that she will require more rest” said the tech priest.

“Understood.” The woman turned her face towards the young farmer. “Under order of the Inquisition, interrogation codex section 2-3b, identify yourself” spoke the Inquisitor, sternly staring into Zareen’s confused eyes

Zareen finally spoke for what felt like the first time in years “I—where am I?”

“Questions come from me only. Again identify yourself” still staring with those unnatural blue eyes, she appeared to be focused on Zareen’s neck, sensing something peculiar.

“Zareen Batal, I’m 20, I live on Onerth and I’m a farmer.”

The inquisitor’s only acknowledgment was that of writing on her data slate. She continued “Do you have any experience with the Archenemy?”

“What? No! Of Course not.” She recoiled at the question.

“What did you do on Onerth?”

“Like I said, I’m a farmer, I helped my family with the farm.”

“No meetings with others discussing political or religious matters?”

“No? I didn’t exactly know many people outside of my family”

“Do you follow Imperial Law?”

“Yes”

“Do you follow the cult imperialis?”

“By the Emperor, yes! I’m not a cultist or anything, I’m just a farmer.” Her frustration became apparent ‘can’t they see I’m not what they think??’

“The Knight, where did it come from?”

She waited a few seconds, unsure how to speak of it “I… found it in the forest during the attack…”

“If I were you I wouldn’t lie to an Inquisitor. Answer my question truthfully, where did it come from?” the stern Inquisitor’s voice had risen slightly, it was no empty threat.

“My dad… He was a knight of House Valenmour and exiled himself here and tried to leave his previous life behind…”

“Sasin?” turning to her right.

The techpriest tapped on several cogitators beside her “Searching Imperial records….. House Valenmour is declared fallen to Chaos in 934.M41”

“Heretical house? Explain.” turning back to face the confused and afraid woman on the bed.

“No no he wasn’t a heretic! He exiled himself after learning of their fall, he was away during all of it! My dad is innocent, he’s no heretic and he’s been a believer in the Emperor his entire life. I’m telling the truth I swear!” She panicked, she knew her father and he was no cultist but she had no idea who she was dealing with.

Binaric speech blurted from the priest’s vox, she then continued in low gothic “Records follow, I have data on a Gregor Batal declared MIA, he was among the first to arrive at House Valenmour’s home planet after revelations of heresy. Going by the dates, I can confirm with a 97.3% accuracy that Zareen is his daughter” followed Sasin

“I see. Herculaar, you can leave, she’s clean.”

“At your service Lady Phoebe.” The giant turned around and walked out of the room, lowering his head to fit through the door, suspiciously silently for such a hulking man and yet the Onerthian found her ribs vibrating with each footstep.

“Do I get a turn now?” Zareen thought herself maybe finally free.

Phoebe looked down at her data slate, an image of the Prideful Warden and readings regarding an odd warp trace that matched the one Sasin found upon discovering Zareen’s unconscious body, there was much more to this puzzle but now was not the time. “Not yet no. Sasin, administer somnos”

“Yes Lady Phoebe.”

“What the karking hell is going o—” Zareen tried to get up but felt her body suddenly drained of all energy, in a matter of seconds her eyes closed and she fell unconscious once again.

---

Several hours had since passed.

“Vitals stable, oxygen and blood pressure are nominal, you can talk to her again.”

“Thank you Sasin, now leave us, I don’t want her to feel interrogated again.” replied Litih, introductions were never a favorite of hers, she much preferred attending to her unending pile of paperwork.

“Oh how hospitable of you! A kind inquisitor Phoebe, I should write about this” Sasin giggled in her own mechanical manner as she left the room, her humanity would often make the unacquainted forget what lies underneath those robes.

Zareen opened her eyes, peering into the warm light as she lay atop the now familiar medical bed. The pillow under bore faint bloodstains from her neck wound, even through the scar, it bled with red with a infinitely small blue glow. She also felt something different, above her wound was an implant, simply by feeling it with her hand she recognized it as the same implant her father had, necessary for interfacing with the Knight or at least a safer way of doing so… The only figure she could see was one of those from her previous brief awakening, still wearing the same black coat with the inquisitorial rosette dangling from its chain around her neck.

“If you’re going to ask more questions, first please tell me where I am?” Zareen lifted herself slightly, elbows keeping her up, she felt vulnerable and at the mercy of this inquisitor but she had no choice, she was lost and confused.

“Not at this time, I apologize Miss Batal for what happened but it was important to be certain you were not a threat” Lilith had adapted her tone since the interrogation, now more akin to a regular conversation yet still keeping her stature as an agent of the God Emperor.

Zareen let out a sigh of relief and fell back onto the bed, resting on the almost solid pillow “I’m glad that’s over.” She paused ”Does this mean you’re taking me back—wait no… is there even anyone left?” She gasped, so much had happened…

Staring into the light right above her, imagining it to be that same sun she grew up under. She reminisced what had happened, the warm calm morning that was torn apart by gunfire, blood, and death. Her whole family taken away and for what, why had the Archenemy chosen them, Onerth was but a simple world with a minuscule population. It all felt senseless to Zareen.

Lilith took a deep breath “I’m afraid you won’t be going back to Onerth, everyone was killed in the attack. It’s currently being decontaminated and purified by agents of the throne. I am sorry for your world.” None of this was shocking to Zareen, she had expected such news, this wasn’t what troubled her traumatized mind.

“Why?”

“Why? What why is it being sanctifi—”

“Why Onerth, why did they have to come, why us” She had gotten up once again, facing the Inquisitor directly, she wanted truth.

Lilith pondered on her answer, an in depth explanation wouldn’t mean much to someone who’s lived a sheltered life she thought “The Archenemy spares none, he is a relentless fo-”

“I don’t care about that” Shot Zareen “Why such a small planet? We meant nothing to them, we were but farmers…”

“I cannot give you a true answer but I can tell you it was most likely purely coincidental. It could’ve been any planet in the sector—”

“So you’re telling me my family was murdered by accident?”

‘Maybe Sasin should have stayed’ Lilith thought, she was woefully unprepared for this but she tried as she could—this woman deserved that much. “You’re right, you deserve that much.”

Lilith paused, straightening herself “We have been pursuing this vessel for the past 6 months and finally it takes anchor on your planet, I have not been able to determine a motive as searches are still ongoing.”

Her fingers tightened around her rosette, remembering all the lives that were cut short by conspiracies and machinations she chased. Now she was sitting right in front of one of those victims, faced with the reality of these random citizens “But… yes, the massacre was likely collateral damage of whatever heretical machinations they had planned. I am deeply sorry for your loss, nothing I say will bring back your loved ones or sooth your pain but I can guarantee I will find the perpetrators of this conspiracy and smite them in the Emperor’s name.”

Phoebe stood in silence for a few seconds before returning back to her Inquisitorial demeanor “Still we will have to speak more in detail about your family and your relation to the Knight at a later time.”
Her pain and trauma had resurfaced fully over the course of their short encounter, ‘at last the truth’. Battling tears, a feint smile crossed her lips “Thank you for finally being honest.” She turned back to the ceiling and fell once again back into the bed. “What’s your name Inquisitor?”

It almost caught Lilith off guard, how could she have forgotten the basics of introductions. “lady Phoebe, Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus”

“And the short version?” she scoffed.

“Lilith”

“A pretty name, I’ve never heard anyone with that name on Onerth. You can just call me Zareen, I don’t like the ‘miss’”

“A pleasure to meet your Zareen. Now that introductions are completed, I think we’ll leave it at that, rest well.”

“Mhm”

“Oh I should also mention your new implant, Sasin, our techpriest took the liberty of installing it. Avoid touching it too much while it heals.”

Zareen didn’t reply, too engrossed in her own thoughts. Phoebe got up, unsure of what had transpired. What had felt like she was walking through a minefield had turned out fairly well, maybe her social skills weren’t as bad as Sasin laughed about. She slowly walked out of the room, taking one last look at the woman on the bed, Zareen was still staring at the ceiling in silence, ‘just a farmer she says’ she thought before closing the door.

The Inquisitor grabbed her vox “Bel, I need a report on that strange reading, I’ve confirmed it is the exact same again in our guest’s soul… Same theta-band warp signature, but… its a part of her somehow… See me at hangar bay 13-Theta-4.”

---

Footsteps broke the silence, his every step echoing throughout the immense hall as spires flanked his sides every hundred meters. Even after its fall to chaos, the palace of House Valenmour retained much of its original opulence, it shined through the eternal night with torches illuminating tapestries and carvings depicting various battles from these past hundred years, all in the name of their dark master. Upon closer inspection, one might notice that these artworks were in fact not stagnant, a foul sorcery emanated from each piece, they were all woven from those unfortunate souls of their domain. The artist had taken apart their souls and rearranged them into various pieces of art, a method far more complex and sophisticated that those brutish skin artworks of the Drukhari. The nigh unending carpet that lead to the throne was no different, millions of souls had been woven into its fabric, each still well aware of their traumatic situation and with every step, they groaned and shrieked, begging for the release of death.

As the coated man entered further, the empty halls now bore massive machines of war lined against the walls. First were the War Dogs, the smaller and agile Knights, they all sported the deep glistening blue shades of House Valenmour. Little resemblances remained with their loyalist armiger counterparts, while those remained gracious machines, these metal monstrosities were like wild animals, cruel and ferocious ready to snap and crush any poor foul that were to tempt fate. Their feet had grown into large claws and their face that of a avian seeking to tear into its foes with their beaks. Their pilots had been equally affected by the powers of Chaos, most were permanently entombed within their Knights, morphed and twisted to become one with the War Dog, always seeking their next kill. The man pitied them, loyal as they were—they were still just animals, their minds too focused on the slaughter. They could never see the bigger picture, the true gifts of Chaos. They snarled and croaked as this intruder walked past—eager to feast—only barred by the chains that held them.

He continued his march, now arriving between rows of the taller Questoris, those same machines that had helped build this world eons ago, now massive hulking creatures fueled by hate and fury, seeking only to destroy all that belonged to the corpse Emperor. They stood as statues, their pilots most likely in comatose, ready to awake at the hour of need. This time he had no pity, they were fools well aware of their circumstance but blind to ambitio. They sought to please their monarch through blood and steel but never more—the idea of claiming power for themselves would never cross their pitiful corrupted minds. Terhil hated them, they were no better than their Imperial counterparts, still slaves to a higher power that they dare not question. He swore they would be among the first to fall once power was his. His rule would have no place for such weak minded creatures.

Finally his journey came to an end—giants all around him—weak mortals would be terrified in the face of such firepower. However he was no peasant, nor was he just any pilot of House Valenmour, he was Terhil Myrlaugur, brother to Monarch Antonius and the mortal that would ascend to godhood to rule the sector with House Valenmour under his iron fist. He had utmost the confidence in his plans: bait the house outside of its walls and slit the throne’s throat. News of their missing knight, the Prideful Warden and its secrets was to be the perfect appetizing bait.

“Well if it isn’t the little brother. Come to beg forgiveness before the throne?” laughter erupted from his left as a figure left the shadows cast by the giant beside her, it was Reeta Nassek, Hammer of the Throne. Her small stature was nothing to trust, she was the most brutal and destructive pilot the sector had ever seen. Even before Chaos corrupted her, Reeta was a nuclear force but now her strength had been multiplied a hundredfold. Her Knight, Sapphire Slaughter, a Knight Porphyrion, the only one remaining in the House’s arsenal with its massive pair of twin Magna lascannons could lay waste to just about anything the False Emperor could send at them. Its presence dwarfed even the Monarch’s Knight. Although Terhil knew the reality, Reeta was born a bastard and only through grueling trials was she able to distinguish herself and attain her rank. She hid insecurities regarding lineage behind an unending aggressiveness, that her accomplishments and actions speak for themselves and if any were to question her, Reeta would tear them apart limb from limb.

“Silence sister! Explain yourself Brother of Monarch Antonius Myrlaugur. Your presence here is strictly forbidden.” this time the voice emanated from the Knights to his left, a Lancer that belonged to Kurernias. He could be qualified as a spokesperson for the Monarch, he orchestrated everything that was beneath the Crown. While Reeta could be compared to a Plasma cannon, devastating and ready to blow at any moment—Kurernias was a by the letter man: reliable, efficient and not afraid to remove anyone that could threaten the hierarchy. And yet, despite their new found patron and reorganization following their pledge to the Changer of Ways, it was almost like nothing had changed for him. He continued to serve his superior with absolute conviction ‘a true loyal puppy’ Terhil called him. Where Reeta was the unfortunate child, Kurernias had been the perfect son—raised to be the next Monarch. However fate decided otherwise and after almost being snuffed out by his parents for failing, Antonius had protected and elevated the now grown lord to make use of his immense talent for bureaucracy. Still his failure remains a scar, a failed ambition that made him predictable and obsessed with following the rules.

Despite this, Terhil had been able to keep a dialog between them, from one ‘fail-son to another’ he affectionately called it. Although this was prior to the House’s pledge to Chaos, much had changed since.

“I come bearing news that might interest our Monarch” the intruder opened with.

“Our Monarch? Last I heard you’ve been exiled you pathetic traitor” Reeta’s venomous tongue spoke true, Terhil had been removed from the House under conspiracy of regicide, only kept alive due to his blood. This was not his first attempt and he would not fail again. Too much was a stake and failure would mean death but most importantly to Terhil: a failed legacy.

“Well then I shall keep this remarkable piece of information to myself… I apologize for wasting everyone’s time.”

“Reeta, last warning—shut. It.” Kurernias sighed “Terhil you have one minute to convince the court of not killing you where you stand.”

“Oh you will not regret this old friend; It concerns the Prideful Warden” a growing smirk formed on his face, he knew how important this was. They would almost kill each other to know what he knew, control was his.

“That’s impossible! We all know that idiot Gregor probably let himself die somewhere in shame.” He was no longer speaking for the Crown, Kurernias was flabbergasted himself.

“That is correct. He did let himself rot and die, live a coward die a coward” leaving out crucial information just to tease the Court.

“Then what kind of news do you even have?! If this is a farce, I will hang you above the gates to the palace where the daemons can eat away at your flesh.” The spokesman almost resembled his sister for a brief instant.

“How crude! Did I say I was done? No of course not, none of you take the time to understand, you’re too busy shinning your own shoes that you forget our ambitions! Did we not pledge for power? Did we not seek to purge the rotten Imperium for this sector? I am sorely disappointed.” The ever theatrical Terhil would always flare his speech, even to the point of insolence.

“Get to the point Terhil…”

“First, I ask to be reinstated into the House and by given my rank back.”

“Preposterous!” interjected Reeta, not believing her ears.

Kurernias sighed deeply “You’re seriously thinking about this, what if he’s lying?” she continued.

“If he’s lying he’ll regret it until the last stars burn out…”

With a tremendous roar, the center piece of the Palace awoke: Knight Tyrant Apsinthaeus, throne of High Monarch Antonius Myrlaugur—it’s eyes had lit to a bright crimson red “Brother” the giant spoke, “You can have your rank back… Only if whatever you say is true, if the Prideful Warden is truly still out there…”

Both Reeta and Kurernias had entered into a bow before their Monarch, only Terhil still standing tall and prideful with his smirk. “We have a deal then—“

“Don’t make this last any longer than it needs to, brother…” the giant continued, disgusted with its predicament.

“Fine fine, you were never one for decorum, truly unfortunate.” Terhil took a deep breath, readying himself for the crucial revelation “Gregor is dead but his legacy lives.” Pausing to take a careful time to evaluate everyone’s reaction, both brother and sister were stunned and even through the Tyrant’s thick adamantium armor, he could tell his brother too was shocked.

“Indeed! None of us expected it, we all thought Gregor too ashamed of his lineage, too ashamed of what we had become.” Terhil saw himself playing a character in a theater play—he was loving every moment of it.

“A child! Well in fact three but only one matters, a beautiful girl born no more than twenty cycles ago, so young and innocent, unprepared for what’s to come now that her father is dead… A terrible tragedy I might add. Now thrust upon her—the sacred legacy of our missing Knight, the Prideful Warden… Traveling across the cosmos she is, and find her we must… Fin” taking an extravagant bow, a great sinister smile across his face.

The Tyrant remained silent, too stunned perhaps, instead Kurernias broke the silence “T-that is quite a tale you’ve spun… but how do we know this is true? Better yet, how did you come across this information?”

“I’m glad you asked my dear Lord Nassek… I present to you our new greatest ally: Introitus Potentiae Spei Oculus”

In an instant, the very fabric of reality tore itself apart in front of Terhil, great storms raged around the hall, tendrils of lightning struck against the walls and pillars leaving scorch marks. At center of it all, a sphere of pure warp energy, its surface an ethereal blue covered in a multitude of closed eyes, one after another they each opened revealing a crystal white eye with a deep blue pupil that appeared to stare straight into one’s soul. Mere seconds passed before the storms subsided and the sphere detonated into a sparkling shower of leftover warp energy. At its heart a monstrous creature, almost as tall as the Knights in the halls, covered in feathers and with two heads; The undeniable look of a Lord of Change, the greatest of Tzeentch’s Daemons. The entire room bowed to it, even the mighty Tyrant itself bowed in its on cumbersome manner—all but Terhil. “Welcome to the great House of Valenmour o great weaver of fates, deceiver of souls, envoy of the great Changer of Ways, Khamosh!” he finally bowed himself to the Daemon.

It turned its heads to Terhil.

Rise child, you’ve done well to bring me here.

The Daemon spoke not with voice but with thought, it reverberated in the court’s skulls—as if a million voices were concentrated into one.

Terhil rose “Thank you my Lord”, the creature spun its heads once more, now addressing the court.

House Valenmour, you who have finally seen the Light and turned against the False Emperor, you have served your God well up to this moment. Your campaigns across the sector have brought many worlds to see the error of their ways. Your contract will remain as is.

In their pledge to the Changer of Ways, House Valenmour was able to keep a surprising amount of autonomy. The court was spared much of the corruption that afflicted the other pilots, leaving their humanity and minds intact as long as they kept their end of the bargain.

However there is a new task as hand, one of utmost importance with a deep connection to this House. You are missing a Knight, the Prideful Warden belonging to Gregor Batal—the retrieval of this Knight will be your one and only task. Should you fail, your contract will be void and I will devour your souls, stripping flesh from bone as you toil in agony for an eternity.

A chilling wind befell the court, unsure if they could speak now that the Daemon fell silent. Reeta the ever reckless took her chance: “M-my Lord, dare I ask why a God needs this Knight?”

It is Myrlaugur you must ask.

“Oh if you must know! During my research in our House’s archives-“

“You were here despite being exiled traitor?! Shot Reeta, fuming with anger, her hand falling to the blade by her hilt.

SILENCE. The Child is of yours once more is he not? Show you due respect or join your mindless brethren in their flesh molded sarcophagi.

“I apologize, I-I meant no disrespect…”

“Ahem! As I was saying… during my research, I found a small safe tucked behind a mountain of data slates, it was marked O-22/Theta. Now for anyone who actually listened during our upbringing, O-22 is our dear Archmagos’ signature, he who oversaw many of our Knights in their forges on Mars.” Terhil went back to his theatrics at the despair of the court, yet Khamosh appeared to enjoy it. “Opening it was no easy feat but once inside, oh my I couldn’t have asked for more! An extremely old but still very functional dataslate detailing much of the Prideful Warden’s birth. It spoke of Mars’ folly during those dark ages—Archmagos Ohmnos Balphisi experimented with something that he probably shouldn’t have: a warp shard! What he had found was impossibly precious, and oh my not just any shard! One straight from the realm of the Changer of Ways, unbeknown to him of course. Such reckless experimentation was frowned upon, thus he hid the shard in one of his latest works: The Prideful Warden. Unknowingly sent across the stars in a Seed ship, stone in hand—or in core should I say…”

That stone, Ag’Drelir belongs to my Master and it must be returned at all costs. It is a shard of the Fate Weaver’s very own essence. Its presence being in the ignorant hands of the rotting Imperium is a transgression that cannot be tolerated any longer.

Perhaps even the Daemon itself had grown tired of Terhil’s exceedingly long theater play but his interruption brought the matter forth: the missing Knight must be found and with it the stone.

“Yes precisely my Lord” his signature smirk painted across his face, Terhil’s plan was going exactly as he’d ordained, he could barely hide his sinister pride. This was the beginning of his ascension and he would stop at nothing to succeed.

The Tyrant finally spoke again with its blaring voice through the Knight’s vox “I have heard enough. If so is the will of our God, then so shall it be. Reeta, marshal our forces and ready the fleet, they are to be ready as soon as possible. Kurernias, send out spies and gather any information you can on our target, I want a report by the time Reeta’s task is completed.”

“Yes my Lord” in unison before running off to their respective tasks.

Every single Knight that rested on each side of the halls came to life, striding towards the exit one after another, a great march of death.

“And I will require my own vessel” added Terhil “You can go on your crusade across the stars but I prefer a more… limited approach. Your fleet can caste a wide net and I will be your bait”

“You wish to venture on your own and engage the Prideful Warden so as to give time for the House to arrive? Did I hear that correctly, my brother is altruistic? A pathetic lie, all you seek is the glory for yourself.” The machine’s great weapons powered to life, hungry to silence the man’s insolence.

“I didn’t lie dear brother, if I fail then you can reap the rewards, am I not correct? I don’t intend to fail but call it an insurance policy.”

With the terrifying Daemon still present and most likely to take Terhil’s side, Antonius could do naught be agree to the request “Fine you will have your ship, a destroyer will be given to you.”

“My thanks brother” he bowed one last time before turning away and walking back down the long now empty halls of the palace, The Lord of Change followed in his path, leaving without another word.

“May you travel safely” even through the emotionless vox, Terhil could tell it was an empty wish. His brother wants nothing more than for him to fail and perish. He would not. Instead Antonius would be the one to join the corpses atop his Knight’s carapace—he would relish in that moment.

Terhil left the great halls, now under the incessant rain of the thunderstorm ridden chaos world, the ambient odor was a foul stench. He was pleased with himself, ‘it couldn’t have gone better’ he thought, with his plan now in motion, betrayal was inevitable, he could already almost taste the blood gushing from Antonius’ throat—oh how beautiful it will be…

---

The vox came to life “Lady Batal please make your way into the corridor. A servitor will guide you from there”

“I said you could drop the ‘lady and miss’” she sighed, Zareen had already been awake for a while now, swimming in her own thoughts, reminiscing what had transpired and what was to come. It had been a full day since her last visitor, she didn’t count the servitors bringing food, they hardly spoke at all and when they did it was binaric. The young woman got up from her bed and made her way into the hall, there a servitor stood, its face a pale purple-white hue, eyes removed for ocular implants but uniquely however this one sported treads in place of legs. She wondered why the difference, mayhap the mechanicum in charge had gotten bored that day.

The servitor began its march guiding Zareen after performing a rudimentary scan confirming her identity. This was the first time out of the medical room in what felt like months, the long plasteel walls were utilitarian, pipes and cables were free for the touch—ease of maintenance she thought. They hadn’t crossed anyone surprisingly, the rustic farmer expected an endless crowd or at least a single soul. She had heard stories of Imperial ships being filled to the brim with sailors. Thousands all squished into a shell of only a few kilometers—yet no one was crossing these halls? Whatever the reason, it certainly gave the ship a creepy aesthetic, corridor after corridor of emptiness with only the sounds of machinery behind the walls and the rhythm of her footsteps paired wit th mechanical whine of the servitor’s treads.

Zareen and her silent guide went through a long elevator before finally reaching their destination, finding herself on what appeared to be an engineering deck. Cables lay everywhere, the smell of fumes was overpowering, hopefully not toxic she laughed to herself, trying to calm a rising uncertainty. Servitors were aplenty, all silently attending to their tasks, paying no head to the visitor. The guide lead its query through the machinery into a small room by the side, the door closing behind them.

“You made it! And here I thought Bel’s servitor had malfunctioned” a mechanical voice spoke, a familiar one that belonged to the techpriest who’d appeared in her room twice during her questionings.

The room was akin to a scrapyard, pieces of different machines left and right, half-disassembled servitors waiting for repair most likely and a plethora of tools that were either hanging from the ceiling or plastered onto the walls. Three figures surrounded a steel table, the familiar techpriest, Lilith and another of the mechanicum with a very different stature to the former, this one was much more hunched back and appeared to be supported by a set of multiple legs that reminded Zareen of arachnids. A host of mechanical tentacles sprouted from its back, some appeared to be wielding weapons while others curious looking tools that might as well be weapons. Its face was devoid of any human features, a large mechanical mask covered its face with bright blue eyes that appeared to be filled with liquid.

Speech erupted from under its masked vox “Task accomplished 0X-21 / Doubts negative / My work is perfection”

“Welcome miss Batal, I hope you’re feeling well since there will be more questions.” Added the black haired Inquisitor

“I am well thank you, my guide was truly charming” she sighed “And yes I assume this will be about the Knight.”

“If she is able maintain humor, I do believe she is healthy.” Mechadendrites twitched as if chuckling themselves, the familiar techpriest appeared much more ‘human’ than the hunched being.

“Introductions first before I forget again: the one who just spoke is Sasin Iplira, she’s our Magos Biologis, and unofficial ship’s medical lead. You’ve seen her before as well.”

“My pleasure miss Batal.”

“And lastly Bellegymere 44-Delta, Magos Errant aka do it all and expert in mechanical engineering, we call him Bel for short.”

“Welcome Miss Batal. / Pleasure meeting.”

“You really can drop the ‘miss’, just call me Zareen please… but it is my pleasure to finally meet you all as well.”

“Good that’s done. Now please speak of your whole story, Sasin and Bel will be asking questions in relation to the Knight and your connection to it. Please answer truthfully, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Ominous—but alright, I’ll start from the beginning.”

Zareen then spent the next 3 hours recounting her tale from youth to raid, and everything Gregor had taught her about the Knight and their lineage. Lilith sat in the back, entirely silent and observant while the two techpriests swarmed the refugee with questions at every corner of her story. As questions entered technicalities that bored even the ever diligent Phoebe, she grabbed her dataslate and flicked through the pages; It was her ongoing report about what had transpired, she hadn’t completed it for too many details remained a mystery, too many inconsistencies…

The Death Guard vessel, they had initially detected it in the Tiberius system. Lilith would’ve left it to more apt agencies of the Imperium were not for its erratic behavior, the ship flew to every single planet, performing simple scans before fleeing to the next system, it made no attempt to fight. Tracking it proved a difficult task but it was deemed a priority, Phoebe would not let the Archenemy freely roam and complete its dark machinations, there was clearly more at play than mindless raiding.

But then why finally stop on Onerth? Had they found what they were looking for? And if so, what was it? The Knight? Its possible, it does appear to have unique properties… yet there was no attempt made at recovering it, simply a mindless slaughter… a massacre that tore Zareen’s family asunder. Lilith pondered on that last point, ‘if only we had been faster perhap—‘ her grip tightened on the dataslate, she shook the thought away, it was pointless and a waste of time to dwell on these things.

Returning to the Death Guard, another puzzling discovery were the markings reported on their armor; Plague marines followed the Patron of rot, Nurgle and yet, tzeentchian iconography was found on their collars, burned into the ceramite with warp sorcery… Why? Who was truly behind this? What was she missi—

“Lady Phoebe?” Lilith’s thoughts were interrupted by Sasin’s mechanical voice, bringing her back to reality.

“Yes, sorry I was deep in thought. Is story hour over?” she got up from her chair, carefully placing the dataslate on the table beside her.

“Up to date = correct / Information = Important, will categorize / Zareen most intriguing” Bel’s vox-grind voice crackled, he spoke in his own robotic manner, despite sounding unemotional it made understanding him easy.

Zareen stood silently, the recounting had brought up certain memories she would’ve rather avoided.

“Enough history, Zareen, are you aware you hold warp energy in your cervical?” Bluntly added the inquisitor, she pointed to the confused farmer’s neck. “Scans have revealed incomprehensible results and my psychic observations show a clear warp presence, albeit very faint.”

“I hold what?! No I—what? I don’t understand?” her words tangled, and yet the scar pulsed a faint blue hue, coming to life. An unknown feeling filled her mind, as if it was responding to being brought to the surface. ‘Worry not child’, a faint voice in the deepest recess of Zareen’s mind. Phoebe lacked any reaction, most likely only the pilot could hear it.

“I sense you’ve been unaware of its presence which also means you have no idea of its origin I presume?” her inquisitorial demeanor was cold and calculating, for Zareen it felt like talking to someone completely different.

“I— Yes I suppose… but please explain, I don’t understand, how can there be “warp energy” in me?”

Sasin’s vox buzzed with binaric speech [01010111 01100001 01110010 01110000], “Yes in your cervicals, specifically around the Splenius Cervicis muscle. I am unsure of exactly what it is but it bears similarities with scans of psykers who’ve abused their gifts too much” she slightly moved her head to look at Lilith who reciprocated by rolling her eyes. “And yet, you show zero signs of psychic activity, you’re no pariah but such readings are impossible for one such as yourself miss Batal. There is also the matter of how it got there… I’ve routed out the possibility that you’ve been born with it based on the progression of its influence in your body. Instead it most likely occurred during your first experience with the Knight’s throne… Which in turn brings the final point: the Prideful Warden also appears to exude strange warp readings, much stronger than those in your body.

Hypothesis Prime : Whatever is inside the Knight joined Zareen’s body when the mechandendrite pierced her neck to interface with your nervous system.

Secundus : This has been a generational event, the sharing of the Prideful Warden’s warp energy with its pilot during their first communi— Strike that, I’ve revised readings and I believe it could’ve only occurred due miss Batal’s lack of an implant, leading to the Knight interfacing directly with the physical body. Which might also explain a complete lack of records on this phenomenon.”

“Thank you Sasin and please cease the usage of ‘miss’ with Zareen, we owe her that much.” answered Lilith, with an odd rare compassion, so much so that even the dispassionate Bellegymere found it bizarre, recording it into his near-unlimited library of knowledge.

“Yes Lady Phoebe, I apologize.”

“Wait the Knight also has this same ‘warp energy’? Confused, Zareen tried to piece things together with her first communion in the Throne.

This time the Magos Errant took over “Precisely / Knight Throne recorded ad nauseam / All readings are dissimilar / Small discrepancies due to equipment? Impossible / Still all point to raw warp energy / No records exist. Concerning. / Age of source? Minimum calculated = 20 Millenniums / Project Archmagos was purged = alleged tech heresy / Possible explanation? Uncertain.” His vox fell silent, it wasn’t easy for the rustic farmer to understand him at first, never had she been in contact with a tech priest so… inhuman.

“We need to perform more tests, which means we will need you in the Throne. My knowledge is limited on Knights but as far as I understand, this has to be a consensual process.”

“Sort of? Yeah? It could work but the ancestors wouldn’t be pleased—but you don’t need to ask twice, I’d also like to understand this, maybe this is also related to the raid on my world… Count me in I suppose!” Zareen gave off an awkward smile, even if her intentions were true, she couldn’t shake the feelings associated with sitting in the Throne once again, would she lose control once again?

Lilith felt those uncertain feelings, her psychic abilities manifested in many ways. One of those was akin to an emotional telepathy, she couldn’t read people’s minds but instead their emotions: if they were confident, anxious, scared, angry… Things that helped her discern truth from lies. “Alright, thank you Zareen for your cooperation. Then if there are no detractors, we can begin right away, Bel lead the way.” The large figure moved across the room in an manner that made Zareen’s skin crawl, its plethora of legs moving like an arachnid, Bel opened the door with one of his mechandendrites that attached to the large apparatus on his back and all others followed him through the engineering deck into a large elevator. The tech priest spoke to the servo-skull implanted into the machinery “hangar bay 13-Theta-4, authorization Bellegymere 44-Delta”.

The rugged door closed and the lift finally took off, Zareen’s heart started to race, her scar reacting in sync, the thought of reuniting with the machine she used to crush her family’s murderers pierced her mind—how would she react inside? Would the same happen? What if this ‘warp energy’ took control of her? What if—suddenly she felt a naked hand envelop hers, a cold sensation emanating from it, like liquid mercury racing through her veins, directed towards her own thoughts, she spun her head just enough to see who’s; Lilith stood behind her. “Try to calm down, breathe slowly with large inspirations and expirations. Focus on the present, you are safe here.” The Inquisitor spoke in her mind, comfort ing the panicking woman. She practiced her breathing, feeling her heart slow to a more natural pace.

Finally, before she had even realized what had happened, the door cranked open, the overpowering lights shone onto the group temporarily blinding Zareen, as she opened her eyes. The large empty hangar appeared, safe for its center piece, the Prideful Warden, in its cage of maintenance scaffoldings with servitors aplenty. The distinct odor of ozone took over, mixed in with the filtered air, she almost felt the need to close her nostrils—and yet there it was, the giant with all of its secrets—secrets Zareen now felt ready to unravel…

---

As they approached the Knight, two figures among the hive of servitors became apparent, one was a tall well built man with olive skin, his head covered by a cap that hid some of his facial features in relative darkness; scars aplenty dotted his face paired with his deep maroon eyes. He wore standard militarum fatigues but not of those worn by the inquisitorial agents, instead a dusty tanned color, a relic of his past perhaps Zareen thought. The other was the selfsame giant from her interrogation, he wore the same green tunic which barely hid his massive form: his unnatural charcoal skin and flaming red eyes.

“I didn’t realize this was an open meeting.” Shot Lilith, clearly not expecting the duo.

The smaller man spoke first “Oh come on, I’ve never gotten the opportunity to see a Knight up close! And in action! I even brought Herculaar for the occasion!” the large smile on his face was almost disarming if it weren’t for the smell of amasec.

“Not entirely correct, I originally wished to meet our new guest. Gastel thought he’d tag along for his own… satisfaction.” The giant spoke very calmly, he was calculated, gentle and yet his voice felt like it had the power of a bolter.

Phoebe sighed, clearly she was used to dealing with this “Fine but only because of the introductions, otherwise I would’ve kicked you out Gastel.” She shot at him with her eyes, a fury held back by her professionalism.“I knew you were a soft angel at heart.” the militarum man laughed “My name’s Gastel Sableshank, greatest warrior the sector has seen—if it weren’t for my colleague here maybe.“ He poked the giant with his elbow, adding a short laugh. “Ex-militarum of the Harakoni Warhawks, veteran of 55 long years of service in the God-Emperor’s name and personally in charge of our dear Lady Phoebe’s safety.” Still with a smile across his face, tempting fate with Lilith’s growing wrath beside Zareen.

“And I am Herculaar, Sternguard Astartes of the Salamanders, at your service” the giant bowed his head to the Onerthian, she had never seen anyone remotely akin to Herculaar, she was awestruck by his gentle voice contrasting his massive frame.

“Are the stories true? That you’re an angel descended from the Emperor himself?” Zareen felt like a child again, her voice trembling with anticipation, as if asking her father about his stories.

The Salamander answered kindly with a slight chuckle “That might be a bit of a dramatization but I am his hammer yes. As long as there are still enemies to the Imperium, I will protect its citizens”

“OK, let’s move on to the reason why we’re here please. Gastel make yourself useful and go get the suit, it’ll be left of the Knight.” Interrupted Lilith, this was too many introductions for one day.

“Yes ma’am” Gastel rushed off at his master’s orders.

Zareen fixed her eyes onto the mechanical giant, its armor a gleaming blue with shining silver accents, the insignia of House Valenmour still etched onto it. Her scar lit faintly with every step as she got closer. Lilith’s voice brought her back to reality “We’ll only be doing rudimentary tests: walking, small arm movements, you get the idea.”

“I understand.” Answered the anxious Batal.

“Don’t stress it, we’ll be in constant communication, and if anything goes wrong say it and we’ll sever the link.”

That reassured Zareen slightly, this time she wasn’t alone with the Knight. Both techpriests and the Salamander left for the command room, a room quickly modified with a plethora of cogitators adjusted specifically for these tests. Gastel came back with a black synth-suit in his arms and gave it to the fledgling pilot, its texture a coarse tough but flexible material, neural data collection nodes dotted its surface, “It’s not the same as those worn by pilots but it’ll do for today. Put it on and climb into the Knight whenever you are ready, we’ll be in that room over on the port side” Phoebe pointed to an armored viewing bay in the distance, where the other three were heading.

The militarum and Lilith followed after having briefed Zareen. She took one last look at Phoebe departing and turned back to the Knight, with the suit in her hands, she was ready. Now it was all up to her and the Prideful Warden.

Zareen slipped into the suit one leg after another, the fit was perfect, most likely whoever made it had taken her measurements in her comatose state. Once fully enclosed, she barely felt it, its weight negligible despite its tough fabric, a testament to the Mechanicum’s engineering. Zareen took one last deep breath before walking towards the slumbering giant, she grabbed onto a ladder carefully positioned against the scaffolding and got up above the carapace. Simply the sight of that scintillating blue carapace brought forth painful memories, she shook the thought away and refocused her efforts. The young pilot took one step onto the adamantium shell, felt her balance and proceeded to move effortlessly towards the hatch release, pressing its key once more as she had done back on Onerth. Well lubricated pistons came to life as the heavy piece shot upwards with its hinges, revealing the inner Throne; It had been thoroughly cleaned, spotless and without a trace of Batal’s life threatening encounter.

Zareen stared at the empty space for several long seconds, her left hand on her neck, feeling the scar pulse stronger than ever, Phoebe through her cogitator’s monitor felt the need to intervene but stopped herself ‘she can surmount this on her own’. Finally, the woman who’d spent her life in the green fields of Onerth, slid one leg into the metal maw. Feeling the throne’s cushioned bottom, she leaped with the rest of her body, and moved herself into position until she firmly sat onto one of Mechanicum’s greatest technological marvels. A slight alcohol odor rang in the air, likely remnants of the cleaning agents used. Once again, as soon as she found her marks, the Throne lit up—a growing humming sound as inner components set themselves to work. The mechadendrite behind her came to life, jumping from behind the Throne and burrowing itself into her new implant, cleanly connecting itself to the various mechanical nerve connections. Pain shot into her neck, much gentler than her previous encounter but still enough to make Zareen’s entire body crisp as she grit her teeth. Her mind overtook every other sense, encompassing the pilot into a cold void.

“Zareen lives!” chanted a voice, the same old woman she’d heard back in the forest.

“We were worried, you had lost so much blood!” spoke another, this one she did not recognize, still it had the same familiarity as all the other voices.

Zareen felt slightly more confident in speaking to the spirits of the dead this time, “I thank you for your concern, I was rescued by the Inquisition.”

“The inquisition?” shot the old commanding voice, he who had convinced the others to aid her.

“Yes, of the Ordo Malleus, she and her retinue have been aiding me in my recovery. And today they wish to complete several basic tests. I trust we will be able to complete them with ease.”

“Tests you say… Of what nature? Speak quickly pilot.” The voice became more agitated, its commanding voice now much more inquisitive. Her neck began to burn and the smell of ozone began permeating the cockpit.

Zareen felt an anxious feeling growing in her stomach, this particular voice felt different… “She wishes to analyze the Knight’s readings, they found a weird signature… she called it ‘warp energy’”

Suddenly Zareen felt her emotions ripped out from their cradled, all her memories of what had happened, all came back at once with a shock-wave that debilitated her. She felt a rising panic envelop her, the void around her replaced with the infamous forest she had lost her family in, their bodies sprung beside her not just once but an infinite amount. The smell came back to her, mangled flesh mixed with bones and blood, the oozing pus from the Death Guard hunting them. Her nightmare came back.

“Levels are spiking far beyond recommended parameters. Lady Phoebe, we must stop this now.” Alerted Sasin who’d been monitoring the pilot’s health, her mechadendrites twitching as if wailing to bring attention.

“Curse the Throne! Bel, sever the link now!” shot Lilith in frustration.

“Tried = no success / Control = lost” if a monotone voice could sound worried, Bel was doing it.

The Inquisitor felt the situation slipping out of her hands. She closed her eyes and concentrated her mind on Zareen’s soul, imagining her in the adamantium cage. As soon as she established a connection, she saw it all: a great forest, trees high into the sky, recognizing it as Onerth. However the untainted vine-ridden dirt had been replaced with corpse upon corpse, each the same four repeating souls: Zareen’s family. Their bodies littered the ground, all varying in their grotesque wounds. Phoebe took a step forward, trying to find her query, her every step squishing another corpse. It only took a few steps for her to catch a glimpse of Zareen, she ran towards her finally arriving at the groveling innocent broken soul. The woman on the ground was weeping, her bloodied hands covering her face as tears dripped from her face, carrying more blood. In between outbursts of cries, she wailed “Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry.”

Lilith attempted to grab the attention of the traumatized woman but to no avail, whatever she spoke was drowned out by the incessant cries. She instead tried moving her hand, resting it onto Zareen’s back, projecting an aura of tranquility upon the weeping soul.—she saw everything: waking up that sunny morning, seeing Gregor off as she worked on the fence, him rushing back with terrible news, running into the forest, the carnage, the anger, the despair. She felt powerless. Phoebe recoiled from the gust of emotions, she took a moment to gather her senses again. Finally she understood the root of the young woman’s trauma: regret, she felt powerless to save them. Now the weeping Zareen looked up to Lilith, tears streaming from her bloodied face.

“I-I could’ve saved them. Maybe if I had convinced dad sooner… Maybe if I’d paid m-more attention he would’ve trusted me. Mayb—“ her face recoiled to the right, Phoebe had struck her on her cheek.

“Snap out of it Zareen! This isn’t real, you’re trapped in your mind!” Batal brought a hand to her stricken cheek, feeling the faint heat dissipate. “Grab my han—“ Now Lilith too felt a blow, this time much more devastating, it threw the Inquisitor off her feet and into the forest before crashing into a tree. She felt that several of her bones had been shattered, her strength escaping as she tasted blood in her mouth. “Kark!” she exhaled. Through her damaged eyesight she spotted a figure behind Zareen, a dark shadow not much taller than a person, a flicker of blue that made her psychic senses recoil, she couldn’t make out any other details, her vision blurring through the pain.

“Lilith no!” Zareen ran for the wounded Inquisitor, the world around her distorting itself and fading away, leaving only darkness. By the time she reached Phoebe, they were all that was left, she dropped her hand to touch the Inquisitor and suddenly found herself back in the now familiar cockpit. Her face covered in sweat, breathing rapidly as if she’d been running this entire time. She slammed the hatch release key and jumped back out onto the carapace, in the distance she found the armored viewing bay and through it, Herculaar carrying an unconscious Lilith away. Gastel ran up to the Knight, screaming words Zareen could barely hear “-ALIVE”, her mind entirely flooded with what had just happened, and with despair sitting on her lips ‘had the Inquisitor fallen just as her family had? Had she failed once more?’.

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