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Defeat looms. Defeat is so close that it threatens to overwhelm Attelus and his allies completely.

Attelus is captured by his villainous father, Serghar Kaltos, helpless; his spine shattered and kidnapped for the machinations of their main enemy, the traitor Inquisitor, Etuarq.

A once trusted ally has betrayed them, falling into the embrace of the god of excess, and his betrayal will likely lead to the world of Quoranda and perhaps every other world to fall a blight of the god of sickness and decay.

How will Attelus and his allies manage even to survive, let alone win?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

So, this is it, huh?

The Voice seemed to penetrate the black, bringing him back to some semblance of consciousness. But the blackness still stayed ironclad.

'W-what?' he croaked out of a mouth he didn't know he had.

So, you're just giving up? Letting them take you away for whatever nefarious purpose of their horrible bastard of a boss?

It then dawned on him. 'You're that Voice. That Voice was in my head when I was lost in the darkness back on Omnartus. Why haven't I heard you until now?'

Nyeh, nyeh, nyeh! Yes, it's me, of course it's me! Who else?

'Hmm, I don't know, you could be Karmen, Faleaseen. I have a whole litany of voices that I hear in my mind. But they don't sound like me, in all honesty.'

Yeah, and why would they make themselves sound like you? No one would want to talk in your annoying nasally Voice!

'Ouch, man.'

Yeah, sorry, pushed it a bit too far, then, maybe. No! I frigging didn't, I'm pissed at you.

'Why?'

Why? Frigging why? I already told you why, you little fool!

He rolled the eyes he didn't know he had. 'Everyone has been calling me that lately.'

It's because it's true.

He sighed with the mouth he didn't know he had. 'Frig you. What can I do? They broke my spine. I can't move my legs...I'm crippled.'

Yeah, well, you've got to do something! Your bastard of a father murdered the girl you loved. He murdered your...former boss and is going to murder a hell of a lot more people you care about if you don't do anything.

'Voice, what's the frigging point, huh?' he sighed. 'Everything I do is...is just pointless! I fight, and I fight, and I fight, and I fight, and I fight, but it leads to nothing! Nothing! I fight through a zombie horde to save some Sisters of Battle, then get myself eaten alive, an utterly horrific way to die! So they can escape, but now they're all dead. My father, yet again, gets the better of me. Of all of us.'

Yeah, maybe. But it isn't over. You can't give up, but first, you have to wake up to do anything.

'I don't frigging want to,' said Attelus. 'I don't want to wake up back to the pain and agony again. That Rodyille bastard isn't carrying me carefully, and-'

The stupid bastards haven't taken your throwing knives from you! You have to wake up and do something, even if you try to make them talk and give something away! The Eldar are also coming, remember? You made Farseer Faleaseen promise they would finally fight with you. They could be here on Quoranda already. They could even be in the tunnels!

'Doubt it, or else Serghar would've used his knife to teleport back to where that "Throne" is already,' said Attelus. 'Etuarq can see frigging well into the future, remember? And even if I wake up and try to listen, they'll probably be talking to each other through their vox-links. I'm frigged, Voice. Utterly frigged. I'm defeated, utterly.'

Attelus blinked as the Voice let out a frustrated roar. Damn it, Attelus! How many situations most people have no chance of getting out of, that you have? There are too many to count.

'Yeah, but-'

What about the last time I spoke to you? You were in that sub-dimension of darkness paranoid about those monsters being in there with you? I got you to keep moving, and you managed to make your way out of there. Anyone else would've been lost and-

'That's different.'

What about your fight against the Greater Daemon of the Blood god?

'I only got out of that because my arsehole of a father and his...lackeys saved me. Then my team, Mr Voice.'

But you held your own! You managed to survive long enough for them to save you.

'I don't care any more. It means nothing now.'

The Voice sighed. You asked me why you haven't talked to me since back on Omnartus?

'I did.'

Because I only talk to you in your darkest moments.

'Literally or figuratively or both? If figuratively, you didn't help me break the control of the daemonic sword back on Omnartus.'

Because you didn't need me then, you broke that control all by yourself, didn't you? That's an almost impossible thing to do.

'I didn't do that by myself. I was fighting it, trying to take control back of my body as it slaughtered person after person, but it was like...trying to push my palms through a rockcrete wall! But when I saw I was about to kill Adelana...I...I...'

Tears well in Attelus' eyes. 'Only then did I manage it. I have no idea how, Voice.'

So if that is why you managed to break free from the control of a frigging daemonic blade, that's what could inspire you to find a way out of this! Think about her. Think about what could happen to her if you don't.

Attelus sighed. 'gak. I guess I can't give up now, can I?'

Nope.

'But what can I possibly do?'

Don't know, but you'll find a way. Have faith in yourself.

'Yeah, whatever,' Attelus snapped as a light began to penetrate the darkness. 'Frigging useless Voice. If you're a symptom of my insanity, you should know I hold little stock in that grox gak.'

Hey, Attelus, I'm just a voice. Something you conjured up when you were a child. I've helped you before, Omnartus, you know that, right? Anyway, good luck.

'Yeah, now that's the understatement of the millennia,' said Attelus before waking up. 'Now, frig off.'



Attelus cried out as the pain from his shattered spine blasted back into his consciousness, and he writhed on Rodyille's shoulder as he walked. That caused the pain to become agony, and he began roaring. Then a fist crashed into his face so hard it jarred everything, and his roars fell into gasping. Tears welled in his eyes, and he internally cursed the Voice for making him wake up. He fought the urge to start sobbing; if he did, they'd probably just knock him unconscious. He also didn't want to give his father and his lackeys the pleasure.

'The little fool is awake,' said Serghar Kaltos, who was right in front of Attelus, his Voice so close it seemed they were almost face-to-face. 'How does it feel?'

Attelus didn't reply. He couldn't see much beyond his fringe, which coated his face and was plastered there by his sweat. He was glad about this; he didn't want to see his father's smug face and psychopathic, dead eyes ever again.

'Not just the pain, but the despair. Everything you've done has been proven pointless. You have lost.'

Attelus still stayed silent. He'd learned from that bitch, Glaitis, a long time ago that sometimes staying silent was better as it might make someone talk too much and give something away. He wanted to stab Serghar in the frigging face with a throwing knife like he did back on Sarkeath. But now wasn't the time. Serghar was likely prepared for such an attack, anyway.

Attelus clenched his jaw. Serghar-frigging-Kaltos, the worst bastard this side of the Calixis Sector, and he just so happened to be his father.

'Ahh, I saw that, boy,' said Serghar. 'You want to stab me with a throwing knife again, don't you? Do not be a fool, the only reason we allowed you to keep them is because we know we have the situation under control. We no longer need your cooperation.'

Attelus wanted to ask what that meant. He knew they needed him to get the Sword of Kalncerak back on Sarkeath so they could kill him with it...permanently, at least. So their master could use his body for something. Despite all the foresight and power Serghar's master displayed, he somehow didn't know how to kill a Perpetual. That might have something to do with "the Throne" Serghar mentioned. A throne? The Emperor sat on the Golden Throne of Earth, so could that have something to do with it?

The thought sent a shock so hard through Attelus that it caused his shattered spine to shoot hot pain into his bones, making him growl through gritted teeth. That had to be it! But that-

A palm slapped across his jaw so hard it almost dislocated it and made Attelus black out for a second.

'You are thinking,' said Serghar by way of explanation.

'W-what?' Attelus slurred, which invited another brutal slap.

'I said, you are thinking. I can tell. When did I give you permission to think, boy? You are not here to think or speak or anything.'

Attelus stayed silent.

'You must learn this, boy. You, like my agents, you are a tool. You were born and lived to be a pawn in my master's great plan and nothing more. So do not dare even think unless I give you permission, understood?'

I understand that you're a complete and utter, unmitigated, psychopathic arsehole.

Another slap. 'I asked you a question, boy. Answer me, or else I'll do so much worse than just slapping you.'

'U-understood.'

But then came another slap, and Serghar's claw-like fingers closed around Attelus' throat. It cut off his breath instantly; it was like Attelus' imagined the cold ceramite grasp of the Space Marine Kalakor's power armoured hand would be like.

'Understood, what?' said Serghar and Attelus could feel the spittle hit his face and soak his hair.

'U...understood, father,' Attelus gasped.

Serghar let him go.

Great, thanks, Voice. It's easy to say that encouraging gak when you're not in the one lodged so far in a corner you can't frigging breathe, thought Attelus.

Fourteen total Plague Marines of the Death Guard, easily enough to conquer an entire solar system, approached the gunship bolters raised. The aspiring champion carrying a huge, rusted blade led the way. The ship sat invisible in the middle of miles upon miles of forest. The three Thunder Hawks circled several hundred metres overhead, their weapons locked on and ready to fire if the highly advanced stealth ship moves even an inch.
The Plague Marines didn't bother with stealth or subtlety as they stomped through the under brush and smashed aside any small trees that got in their way.

It was when the Plague Marines were around fifteen metres away Kalakor's trap ignited and in a split-second a good one hundred metre radius of jungle became consumed in blue fire so powerful, all of the Plague Marines are instantly atomised.

All three Thunder Hawks writhed and wavered from the pressure, then the shrapnel made up of thousands of exploded trees crashed against them, causing them to wheel and reel as they began to pull back. The armour of the Thunder Hawk withheld against the impacts of the debris but some managed to find its way into the turbines and it was too much to handle.

The Thunder Hawks whirled and began to lose control.



Ten minutes earlier...

'I cannot get a connection with the Xenocide,' said Ulysses as he fiddled with the ship's communications controls.

'So try again!' Arlathan snapped.

Ulysses sighed and turned his dark gaze at the Interrogator. 'I just...alright I will keep trying.'

Arlathan nodded, turned and stormed out of the cockpit and into the recreation room. In there, Vex sat at his cogitator and vox-caster. Next to him, Karmen Kons laid on the couch, limp and lifeless. Right after their call from the traitor Hayden Tresch she'd left in her ethereal form to try get to their ships in the system and find out what in the Emperor's name was going on.

Lurking around was the former commissar Tathe, and his compatriot the scout trooper Dellenger. The assassin and pilot Darrance, his apprentice Delathasi. The ex-arbite Torris who still held his meltagun like it was a long-lost lover just found. But with all the devastation Torris had recced Arlathan couldn't blame him. Then there was the arsehole Kollath and his remaining Stormtroopers. But the most attention attracting was the towering Space Marine of the Raven Guard chapter Kalakor who stood watch over the room from the corner. His arms folded over his chest plate. He wore a white beaked helm of a Veteran-sergeant and belonging to the famous Mark 6 Astartes armour pattern.

Last was the young medicae Halsin, who stood in the corner not far from Kalakor.

'I can't believe it,' said Vex, as he stared blank-eyed at his screen. 'He did that to Adelana. Adelana! That sick son of a bitch! She-she, was such a good person. I-'

'Anything from Enandra, Attelus or anyone, Vex?' Arlathan said, even though he knew the answer.

'No,' said the boy in such a sulky tone it hurt Arlathan's diaphragm for a reason beyond him. Arlathan was certain Vex wanted to add a "frig-head" at the end of his sentence.

'We need to move,' said Kollath, pushing himself off the wall and turning his ludicrously spare face to Arlathan.

'I agree,' said Arlathan,. 'But first we need somewhere to go first.'

'And what? You think we can go to the Xenocide?' said Kollath. 'And even if we do we'll lead the enemy right to them and we know there are hundreds of enemy ships in orbit.'

Arlathan sighed, he hated to admit Kollath but had a damned good point. He was coated in sweat like never before and his heart pounded painfully. It seemed he was close to having a panic attack if he didn't regain control of himself.

'Well, if we can't go to the Xenocide where can we go, Kollath?' said Arlathan.

Kollath pursed his lips. 'Hide in one of the system's moons? Or maybe even go to the Sister's convent?'

'We have visual cloaking as well as scanners,' said Tathe. 'Don't we? How can they track us?'

'Because apparently Hayden-frigging-arshole and that arse Drevan told them everything!' said Vex. 'We have to guess at what frequency they can detect us! They might not be able track us visually, but their scanners will!'

'I have an idea,' said Kalakor, which made everyone's attentions snap to him, Delathasi and Vex flinching as they did. 'A few of us stay here while the rest leave to rendezvous with the original Guncutter.'

'I don't like where this is going,' said Vex.

'Shut it, boy,' Kalakor growled. 'We lure the Plague Marines near the ship, then overload the reactor.'

'Taking out not just a highly sophisticated and invaluable ship but whoever volunteers who stay behind,' said Arlathan. 'Which are also valuable and-'

'We are backed into a corner now, completely and truly, Interrogator of the Ordo Hereticus,' said Kalakor. 'If we are to get out of it, we must resort to such desperate methods.'

Vex frowned. 'Are they going to even bother-'

'If they wanted us dead, they would've had this ship and a quarter of mile of jungle around us glassed from orbit already instead of sending just three enemy Thunder Hawks,' said Darrance, then he looked at Arlathan. 'I think the Space Marine's idea is sound.'

'Yeah, well, it isn't,' said Tathe, and Arlathan had never heard such an exasperated and snarling tone from the ex-commissar. 'That's going to be one hell of an explosion, this isn't like overloading a lasgun for a last-ditch trap, no way. And even if the escaping agents manage to make it far enough to not get consumed they'll be trying to escape a forest fire made from hell itself.'

'Neglecting the fact the enemy might detect them running away,' said Vex.

'Wear your syn skin bodygloves, then,' said Kalakor. 'And hurry it up, because we are running out of time. I volunteer to stay. It is my idea and therefore I must.'

Then for less than a second, Arlathan swore the Space Marine gave Dellenger a slight glance.

'I volunteer, too.' said Dellenger, that couldn't have been a coincidence, but Arlathan ignored it.

'Alright, fine,' Arlathan groaned to hard it hurt his chest. 'Back into that gakky jungle, I guess. Now! Let's move, move, move!'

He then looked at Karmen. She still hadn't returned, Arlathan could only hope she was okay.



The spilt second Karmen had left her physical form, she knew something was out there. Something in the Sea of Souls, waiting for her.

The daemon's laugh echoed through her, somehow making her ethereal form somehow shiver.

It began to part the warp toward her, the snarling, smiling, hollow-eyed face dwarfed her like nothing she'd ever encountered before.

She shrieked with a non-existent mouth and willed her soul to return to her body, but it didn't work. She was stuck.

Karmen turned and ran, trying not to see the creature of such power it parted the warp in its wake like a real-world sea.

The daemon laughed again. +You cannot escape me, little psyker. Come back and I promise I will make it quick and...somewhat less painful.+

Karmen just kept moving. This thing, it had a familiar feeling, its power was utterly undeniable but it was a similar feeling as the Greater Daemon of the Blood god when she'd held it in her telekinesis briefly back on Sarkeath.

Could this be? Could it be!? Oh God-Emperor, no! No!

Karmen started to pray.

‘What are you two up to?’ said Tathe, making Dellenger and Kalakor turn to him in surprise. Neither of them had heard him enter the reactor room, which was more than impressive.

‘None of your business,’ said Kalakor, a predictable response as he went back to his tinkering.

‘I frigging beg to differ,’ said the former commissar, but before he could argue more, Dellenger grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside.

‘We’re going back up The Audacious Edge,’ said Dellenger in a whisper. ‘We’re using the self-destruction of this ship not only to hopefully take out more of the Plague Marines, but to mask our...teleportation to the ship. Hopefully to retake it, if not, well...’

‘It is unlikely either of us will survive this mission,’ said Kalakor.

‘Unlikely?’ said Tathe. ‘More like guaranteed you wont. I had a feeling this would be your ploy. It’s frigging desperate to say the least.’

Dellenger shrugged. ‘Yes, it’s frigging desperate. But Kalakor managed to pull a similar ploy on The Xenocide back at Iocanthos.’

‘Hayden, or Draven, will likely see it coming,’ said Tathe. ‘And-’

‘Tathe!’ called Arlathan’s voice from the corridor outside. ‘Hurry the frig up!’

‘Yes! Coming!’ roared Tathe, then clamped his hand on Dellenger’s shoulder. ‘Old friend, I can-’

‘No, you need to stay here,’ said Dellenger. ‘The Interrogator will need as much help as he can get.’

Tathe studied Dellenger for a second before pursing his lips and nodding. ‘Frig, this is stupid as all hell.’

‘We know,’ said Dellenger.

‘Okay, alright. But remember we have...or we had comrades still on the Audacious Edge, you two need to make sure of their status.’

‘Not if it causes interference in our overarching mission,’ said Kalakor, before Dellenger could reply.

Tathe frowned, but Dellenger gave him a nod.

Then Tathe turned to go, but in the entrance way he paused. ‘Why not teleport up to the Xenocide instead? We don’t know if they’re compromised and they might be a great help to you?’

Dellenger’s eyes widened and he exchanged a glance with Kalakor.

‘That is...actually a good idea,’ said the Space Marine.

Tathe smiled his roguish smile that creased the scars on his face and made the sign of the Aquila.

‘The Emperor protects,’ Tathe said, then left.

‘Yes, yes, whatever you say,’ said Kalakor as he began to daub symbols on the reactor that churned Dellenger’s guts just by glimpsing them.



They suddenly stopped, jarring Attelus’ shattered spine, causing his hazed mind snap back to reality. Every split-second was a war to keep himself conscious and pretending to be unconscious which he was sure his father and his sycophants could easily see through. But he got nothing from it, a few times they interacted through their micro-beads but no matter how hard Attelus tried he couldn't understand their words, his ability to make out sounds in detail proving impossible with the constant pain.

Then hands grabbed him, and the world became a brief whirling before being dumped against the wall.

Agony smashed through him like never before, and a shriek escaped his lips. It lasted less than a second before a palm slapped him across the jaw.

‘Shut up!’ snarled a vox distorted voice. ‘Shut the hell up you piece of gak.’

Gasping, and fighting to keep awake, Attelus managed to slip his fringe off his face with his sweaty hand. It took a second for his photo-contacts to adjust to dark light vision, revealing the two mask wearing freaks looming above him. All he could make out were the masks as they wore syn skin bodygloves making his night vision view everything below the neck as subtle blurring.

Despite their stupid masks, Attelus knew both of them. One was Rodyille, which Attelus doubted was his real name, the bastard he’d fought briefly after the death of Omnartus. Rodyille had infiltrated the Inquisitor Torathe’s retinue and became his Interrogator. Using that position to likely manipulate Torathe into being in the position to order the Exterminatus of an entire world. Perhaps, he even managed to cause Torathe's insanity which drove him to make that decision. He also tried to...assault Adelana, before being killed. As far as Attelus was concerned, Rodyille wasn’t an option to try turn.

But the other one, perhaps he had a chance. Feuilt, who was the taller of the two, had infiltrated Taryst's organisation as a medicae, again, back on Omnartus. He, in turn, had manipulated Attelus into inadvertently taking the pict that caused this complete and utter gak storm. But despite this, when Attelus later fought him, and after Attelus dealt him the lethal blow. He seemed to regret his actions and with his final breath warned Attelus. So, perhaps, perhaps there was something there? Like there was something in Elandria?

The thought of Elandria made pain of another kind clutch Attelus’ heart and his eyes fell to the floor.

‘Aww, what’s wrong?’ snarled Rodyille as he slapped Attelus across the face again. ‘You upset about that little bitch? Don’t be stupid, she was a traitor, she more than deserved it. If I had my way she would have suffered for much longer and I hope I would be the one inflicting that suffering.’

Rage overtook Attelus’ grief, causing him to clench his teeth, he dearly wanted to take a swing at Rodyille but he managed to control his anger and treated Feuilt his best withering glare. Feuilt seemed to see this as his head turned to face Attelus entirely.

Attelus didn’t want to speak, but he had to risk it, he didn’t know where Serghar was. This could be some kind of test, but he wouldn't get another chance.

‘You warned me about Etuarq years ago,’ Attelus hissed. ‘Didn’t you, Feuilt?’

Rodyille and Feuilt flinched and exchanged glances in what seemed like surprise, their surprise was idiotic, but instead of snarking about it, Attelus seized the opening. ‘So you know what he really is! You know if that bastard gets me...’

Rodyille drew his fist back, but Feuilt stopped him, and approached Attelus.

‘Y-you can stop it, and-’

Then Feuilt punched him so hard in the face, he instantly blacked out.

Attelus came to to the familiar violent sound of cracking and smacking, and through the green hazed darkness he could see Serghar Kaltos was beating the ever loving crap out of Rodyille. Just landing brutal punch after brutal punch against his subordinate. Rodyille was making no attempt at defending himself, not even covering his face, his back was against the strange rough textured wall. Serghar had his re-breather off and despite the anger behind the attacks, the disgusting smirk on his face was clear. Watching on, was Feuilt who gave away nothing of his thoughts or feelings about the display. Rodyille was scum, the lowest of the low in Attelus’ eyes, but yet, he somehow felt sorry for the frigger.

‘How...dare...you!’ Serghar snarled, just before he stopped punching Rodyille then hooked his fingers across the back Rodyille’s neck, pulling him down allowing Serghar to begin kneeing him in the guts and chest over and over. ‘You...let...him speak!’

Then Feuilt’s attention snapped to Attelus, and a split-second later, Serghar's followed. Serghar let Rodyille go, allowing him to slump hard to the floor.

‘So, the little bastard is awake,’ said Serghar and he stormed up to Attelus. Before Attelus could even think, Serghar’s hooked fingers clamped around his mouth, making Attelus groan with the pain.

‘You try to speak one more time,’ said Serghar the rising rage in each syllable was clear to hear, but the bastard seemed to quickly suppress it. ‘Even one more word, I will tear your frigging jaw off, you understand?’

Attelus could only make a muffled sound in reply.

‘Do you understand?’ repeated Serghar and he let the pressure of his grip lighten but only slightly. Allowing Attelus to give him a slight nod.

‘Good,’ said Serghar, then crashed his knee straight into Attelus’ face so hard it seemed to cave in instantly and everything went back to black.



Captain Arete lounged on her command throne, and yet again found herself staring out to space, literally. It had been many hours since they’d heard word from anyone. Not from The Audacious Edge nor any of the teams on the surface of Quoranda. The latter she’d expected, the crew of The Xenocide were still outsiders to the operations of Inquisitor Enandra and her people. A more than understandable fact in Arete's opinion, but it still

They too had detected the activation of the lance batteries of the pair of traders in the atmosphere of Quoranda, but they’d received no context about why they had their lance batteries. Which was a rare and strange occurrence. Usually a surface bombardment would be a more effective weapon fire such an attack. Arete theorised they used lance batteries as they were a weapon easier to hide from authorities, thus lacked bombardment weaponry.

She stroked her sharp chin with a cold finger of her augmetic hand. By the Emperor of mankind it was hard for her to even try comprehend the past few weeks. So much had happened and changed it hurt her head. First the sudden rebellion of the crew in the lower decks, that completely overwhelmed her armsmen and the Inquisitorial personnel which was led by a frigging Space Marine of all things. Then the capture of Arete’s former master then subsequent take over by Inquisitor Enandra's people led by an annoying little Throne Agent named Attelus Kaltos and his psyker girlfriend, Karmen Kons. Besides the damned Space Marine she was the biggest reason why Arete and her crew had cooperated. Her incredible power was undeniable even to a blunt like Arete.

But that boy Attelus obviously held some kind of crush on Arete, he wasn’t subtle with his glances at all which Arete expected more from an agent of such a vaunted organisation. But there was something about him. Something odd, something Arete couldn't describe. It helped he was cute, as well.

So, after their takeover, they almost instantly left for Scintilla and there they met with Enandra herself on The Audacious Edge. Arete had bared witness to that...meeting but had hid herself from partaking in it. It was damned interesting...No, enlightening, to say the frigging least. Attelus or anyone hadn’t bothered to brief her at all about the meeting. The stakes, the meaning behind them was far bigger than anything Draven had fought in his long, storied career. It was true, Arete was certain, there was no way in the frigging warp they could have made all that crap up and Enandra's belief reinforced that fact.

It’d also warmed her considerably toward her knew employers, especially Attelus. His humility, self-awareness and self-deprecating words were...Arete again, couldn’t find the right words for it. Enandra also had such presence and power to her she eclipsed Karmen’s psychic might with her personality alone. She was also surprisingly rational and fair.

Maybe a bit too fair if Arete was to be honest, the fact Attelus and company had cooperated with the perfidious Eldar was a bridge too far, but who was she to question a representative of the Inquisition?

That was the thing, though, Enandra in contrast to Draven, could be questioned. Over the few times the Inquisitor had been here to speak with Arete and her crew. Arete and the others found her amenable, humble and...kind?

gak, Enandra had even been down to the lower decks and treated with the masses there. Promising them such as temporary leave and extra pay. A thing that Arete and the others found almost as hard to comprehend as so much else that’d happened. The men and women over the lower decks loved her, so much so that it’d be almost impossible for them to rebel again.

Alien, it was just so damned alien. Like she’d stepped into a whole new dimension that was upside down, literally and figuratively.

Arete sighed. Damn it, she knew how the workers of the lower decks felt. Inquisitor Jelcine Enandra seemed the rarest of the rare and Arete was now more than willing to follow her lead. She was...far more deserving of it than Drevan, it seemed.

For the Emperor and the Imperium of Mankind.

‘Mamzel!’ said a voice, making Arete flinch into reality. It was Oross, the master of Communications. ‘We are receiving a communication from a drop ship. It is identifying itself from being from the Audacious Edge! It is asking for permission to board us.’

Arete furrowed her brow. Now that came out of no where, and she looked at the master of scanners.

Rellok pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘I have nothing on the scanner mamzel, captain,’ he said. ‘They must have their cloaking field up.’

‘They must,’ said Arete, but why in the god-emperor’s name would they do that? They were too far from the star system to worry about detection from the enemy. Something wasn’t right, the only one who travelled from the Audacious Edge was the Inquisitor and her Stormtrooper escort and she would always give them at least several hours notice beforehand. ‘Rellok, I need for you to ask it to identify who is on the ship.’

Rellok nodded and sent the hail.

A second later, he flinched and looked back to Arete, and the Voidborn’s face was even more whiter than normal.

‘Something wrong, Rellok?’ Arete couldn’t help blurting out.

‘I cannot believe, mamzel captain. It’s-it’s Inquisitor Draven himself.’

He couldn't believe it; they were dead. All of them, slaughtered at the hand of his father and his cronies. Jelcine Enandra, perhaps the most charismatic being Attelus had ever known—the woman who could silence a chamber filled with hundreds just by stepping into it. The woman who'd taken Attelus and the other Omnartisian survivors under her wing used her vast resources to help in their fight to find Inquisitor Etuarq and bring him to justice. The Inquisitor who'd even tolerated Attelus' alliance with the Eldar. Until the truth of how far that alliance went was revealed to her.

In all honesty, Attelus didn't hold any anger or pain at her betrayal; his lies and secrets caused it. They had to come to an end sooner or later. The psyker Selva, who'd died at Attelus' hand, the woman who'd been one of Enandra's longest serving agents and right bitch while at it. Attelus had decided his killing her couldn't be defined as "murder". He'd killed her as she'd tortured him, while she didn't "deserve" per se as she was following Enandra's orders; it had to happen. Goruan, the Catachan, was by and far the best person in Soloston’s warband. He was hard but fair and was the only one who lent Attelus credence. Goruan seemed like he could've been a true friend. Then there was Soloston himself, the know-it-all bastard who'd allowed the spread of the damned plague by not bothering to look further into it. The bastard that was consumed with guilt over ordering the Exterminatus that'd sent him to this gakky world of Quoranda to repent.

The bastard they needed to garner information from toward the slight, slight knowledge of Etuarq's location. It was too late for that now unless he was somehow a Perpetual like Attelus, but the odds of that were beyond low.

Then there was...Elandria.

The thought made rage fill Attelus' frame despite the darkness of unconsciousness. That bastard! That frigging bastard Serghar frigging, Kaltos!

Then, the blackness began to seep away, replaced by a waving crimson-like colour. It grew and grew until it loomed over him like a cliff wall. The crimson surface was made up of flowing, screaming, hollow-eyed and hollow-mouthed faces. It was terrible to behold, like looking straight into the warp itself.

'What the frig?' Attelus gasped through non-existent teeth.

The crimson then began to shape and mould. It took Attelus a few seconds to realise what it was changing into, another face that was definitely human and Attelus definitely recognised despite not seeing it in three years, he always had a good memory with faces.

'Hello, Attelus Kaltos,' said the voice, each syllable shaped by the shrieking of the countless souls that created it. Attelus remembered that...Elandria had said back on Sarkeath that she'd been reanimated by a "gestalt of souls". He guessed the horrific monsters that'd chased him through the underhive of Omnartus were made the same way, but somehow it wasn't the same as warp magic. Attelus also guessed some of those souls had been infused in him somehow by...

'Feuilt, hello to you too,' said Attelus.

The Feuilt face raised an eyebrow. 'You know that is not my real name, right?'

'Of course I do, but what the frig else am I to call you?'

'My real name, for one, I am Iaqrious. Iaqrious Sindril.'

'Well, hello, Iaqrious Sindril.'

Sindril smiled and nodded. It was one of the most genuine and relieved expressions Attelus had ever seen in his life, which was so damned strange it was breathtaking. 'Now, we haven't much time, and there is much we need to discuss...'



With Karmen Kons' unmoving form over his shoulder, Arlathan led his merry band onwards, as behind them, the jungle burned. They all wore rebreathers and jogged at the fastest pace they could manage. The fire must've been a good kilometre behind them, but Arlathan could feel the heat on his back so intense it was almost like he was sitting right in front of a furnace.

When they'd first left the stealth ship, Vex had whined incessantly about them having to leave behind their top-of-the-line huge cogitator, being forced only to bring his miniature one. Arlathan understood it was a valuable and powerful piece of equipment, but Vex shut up after the explosion, thank the Emperor. But what vexed Arlathan the most was leaving both Dellenger and Kalakor behind. Their sacrifice was illogical; they could have detonated it from afar, and no one heard any gunfire before the explosion.

Arlathan couldn't help but think he'd been tricked. He'd wondered for hours now how and why the Chaos Land Raider that'd attacked them just seemed to stop for no reason. Karmen had claimed to have killed the driver herself, but Arlathan had his doubts.

The thought made Arlathan frown and look at the limp form over his shoulder. It would be nice if she could wake up and soon. She could use her legendary telekinesis ability to slow the fire. Because if not, their desperate escape attempt might be over very soon.



'Why in all that's frigged should I trust you?' said Attelus.

'Why, indeed,' said Sindril. 'I did try to kill you after all—numerous times, in all honesty. But please, listen to me, that's all I am asking from you right now. You need to listen to me, or else, well, you lose, and you lose badly.'

'Sindril, assuming that's your real name, why would you telling me this gak make any difference? I am a frigging cripple now and-'

'Because I am using my power to heal your spine as we speak,' said Sindril. 'I will help you escape when we get the opportunity, but I will unlikely survive the process. So I must share with you my knowledge before I am...well...'

Attelus sighed. 'Alright, fine. But first, tell me how you're doing this?'

'I said-'

'No, how you're able to do this without my arsehole of a father knowing.'

It was Sindril's turn to sigh. 'Fine! During my time as Feuilt in Taryst's organisation I was able to train myself into using this...enhancement without your father or even Etuarq constantly surveying me. I worked every day, every second of consciousness, to master and control it. I did not want to manipulate you; I did not want to summon the Obelisk. But...I found myself unable to stop myself once the time came for me to be woken, so to speak.'

'You were in Taryst's employment for a frigging long time, weren't you?'

Sindril's huge head nodded. 'It was after you killed me that I lost control, and Etuarq and your father took over even more. It was this endeavour and the constant whispering in my brain which caused me to lose my mind.'

Attelus nodded back; there were thousands of other questions he wanted to ask Sindril. If that were the case, how could he do it now? How didn't they foresee it even if Sindril could do this without Serghar's and Etuarq's attentions being piqued? How, how, how. Why, why, why. But Attelus was beginning to see how earnest and how...desperate Sindril seemed. So Attelus held his metaphorical tongue. He also more than sympathised with the whole' voices in my brain' driving one insane.

'Okay, Sindril, tell me the truth, and frigging now.'

Sindril smiled. 'First, I have been in the former Etuarq's employment for a long while. I have seen more than enough to know he should not succeed, no matter what. He is a megalomaniac. He thinks himself a literal god. He plans to become the next God-Emperor of Mankind. Literally. He is using an ancient piece of technology, I do not know the nuances of it, but I know it is a similar device to the Golden Throne the Emperor sits upon on ancient Terra.'

Attelus' eyes widened. 'Really?'

'Yes, really,' said Sindril. 'To power what they dubbed 'The Silver Throne', that is why they have been manipulating these Exterminatus' to allow it to absorb the souls of the trillions of victims. They use the...goo that runs off it to create me and their other agents. Rodyille, and...her included.'

The mention of Elandria made Attelus drop his gaze and Sindril frown.

'Just continue, please,' Attelus croaked.

'I...Understood. Etuarq uses those souls to dive into the veil of the future. To see everything he can to be able to manipulate the future into what he wants. But he has to sit on The Silver Throne to manage it. His body has been breaking down due to the inhuman level of strain to manage it over the decades, and that future is his eventual elevation into godhood.'

'You've already said that,' Attelus said. 'How is he going to do that? Is it something to do with me? Something to do with my body? Is it because I'm a Perpetual?'

Sindril laughed, much to Attelus' shock. 'I hate to feed your ego, but it has everything to do with you. You are correct, it is because you are a Perpetual, he needs to have control of your body to survive the process.'

'Is that why he needed the Sword of Kalncerak? To destroy my soul, allowing him full possession?'

'Indeed, as he does not know how to destroy the soul of a Perpetual. But his plan has adapted and it is not good for you. To say the least.'

'How? Just frigging spit it out, please!'

'Etuarq plans on trapping your soul within him, either forever or until he can later find a way to destroy you. There he will torture you in any way he can think of, it is, very much, a fate worse than death.'

'Great,' sighed Attelus. 'Just frigging great. Now that is the damned understatement of the millennia! Now, how can we stop him? Where in the Emperor's name is he?'

'I do not have any idea how to stop him, Attelus. I am sorry. Beside you hiding somewhere, he cannot reach you, forever, potentially. But I do know where he is: your homeworld, your home country. Your home city, in fact. Varander. In alien corridors far below the surface. Corridors identical to these ones.'

Now, that sent freezing shivers throughout Attelus' entirety.

'Y-you're serious?'

'Dead serious. As dead as I will be soon.'

'You might be.'

'No, I will be. I have doomed myself, Attelus. Please, make it worth it.'

'I will,' said Attelus. 'I will, Iaqrious Sindril.'

Sindril frowned. 'You also swore you would prevent the Exterminatus back on Omnartus, did you not?'

Attelus just pursed his lips and shrugged. Sindril had a frigging good point. Attelus had a damned terrible track record at keeping his promises.

He could only hope this would no longer be the case, but he had no frigging clue how the hell that could be even remotely possible.

'Why didn't Serghar use his knife to teleport us back to Varander then?' Attelus said.

'The warp currents are being...changed by the presence of a greater daemon of the god of excess,' said Sindril. 'It is near and likely to attack the second we enter the Immaterium. At the centre of this maze is another, albeit ruined, Silver Throne, but it will allow us access to the Webway as those devices all can.'

'The Webway? The frigging Webway?'

'Yes, indeed. As of now, all we are able to know of are the passages from one Throne to another.'

'By the Emperor,' said Attelus as he placed his imaginary face into his imaginary palms. 'What else? What frigging else can you tell me?'

'Your "friend" Hayden Tresch has turned traitor,' said Sindril. 'He is also free and possessed by said greater daemon. He is free because of us, and with our aid, he has managed to take control of Inquisitor Enandra's flagship. He did it with the aid of those same daemonic entities that I summoned with the Obelisk back on Omnartus and several thousand of Etuarq's personal Stormtrooper corps. You remember those monsters, don't you?'

Terror clenched Attelus' heart in its vice-like grip. 'Remember them? How in the Emperor's name could I ever forget those things? I wish I could forget those...things...'

Then, painful panic shot through him. 'Adelana! What happened to Adelana? Is she alright?'

'I...I do not know. I am sorry. After we released him and Draven, we left for down here.'

Attelus fought down the panic and gained control of himself. He needed to get back up there, but first, he needed to escape. Damn that bastard, Tresch! If he did anything to Adelana, Attelus will...

'So, tell me more about Etuarq,' said Attelus through his imaginary clenched teeth.

'Etuarq is...insane, delusional. He believes he is destined to rule the Imperium with an iron fist. If he succeeds, he will be the next Goge Vandire but with the power of a god. He's foreseen it again and again, but he refuses to see how he gets there. Just his glorious victory.'

Attelus nodded. That could be it, as small an opening as it gets, but it's something, and he went to ask another question, but Sindril's face made up of screaming faces turned.

'That's all the time we have,' said Sindril. 'I am still fixing your spine, and it will take a while. I wish you luck.'

Then, the face disappeared, leaving Attelus in the darkness of unconsciousness again.

At least he had some hope now, even if Adelana's fate was unknown. But Attelus had to remember: hope was the first step on the road to disappointment.