I am going to begin this story with a warning.

IF YOU ARE UNDER 13, PLEASE CLOSE THIS WINDOW OR GO BACK A PAGE. CONTAINS: STRONG VIOLENCE AND STRONG LANGUAGE. THANK YOU.

And now, on with the story...

Prologue

The scene was grim.

The sky was blood red, a eerie reminder of what had taken place just a few hours ago. The air was choked with ash and dust, and the earth was drenched in blood. Corpses, both of Chaos and of Lynx, littered the ground, some piled high into makeshift barricades against a hailstorm of bolter rounds. Some trees were still left standing, but were blackened and stunted; burnt or blown to pieces by fire from both sides. 3 billion Lynx, slaughtered in just 48 hours.

Alyan trod on, his padded feet making hardly a sound as he trudged through an ankle-deep concoction of crimson blood and churned up earth, and the occasional severed body part. His snow white fur was stained a dirty red from falling face down into the sludge he was now treading through. A ceremonial blade, made of an admantium-silver alloy hung at his waist, along with a beautifully decorated and extensively modified Lance Pistol. Warrior Princes were usually equipped so. Not that they needed them, anyway. The ebony claws hidden in the soft pads of their hands were easily sharp enough to claw through Power Armour, but Alyan had always felt safer with a gun, even if it was a pistol. For that reason, he had his crafted by a specialist artisan and modified to fire monomolecular tipped Silvite Shard at a velocity approaching Mach 5. He hadn't met a single creature who wouldn't die from a single, quick headshot by that gun.

His highly-tuned ears picked up the scraping of metal on rock. He whipped around, pistol drawn, to see a bolter pointed straight at his head, in the hand of a Chaos Marine.The markings suggested his legion of origin to be The Black Legion. Obviously Chaos had had another attempt at corrupting one of the Lynx's Silvite Towers; only this time, they had succeeded. The Chaos Marine had time to fire but two shots before one from Alyan's Lance Pistol pierced his helmet and ejected approximately 65% of his brain tissue out the back of his skull. The Larraman's organ was capable of inhumn feats of healing, but repairing a large amount of lost brain tissue was not one of them. The Marine died instantly. The bolter rounds, however, exploded harmlessly against Alyan's psychic shield. The Lynx were a lucky race; to have been blessed by the Goddess with the power to manipulate the Warp to their whim. Shielding was but one of the many applications of such power Alyan knew of.

Continuing his search for survivors, Alyan hastened his pace. There must be a at least one survivor amongst the masses of bodies scattered across the ground! Alyan secretly hoped his brother had survived the onslaught, but the chances of this being true were low. Very low. The Pawns of Chaos had obviously learnt from past encounters; even the precious Silvite Matrices that each and every Lynx wore on their forearms had been looted. To have such pure, sacred artefacts stolen by these foul scum was blasphemy. Not just against the Goddess, but against the Lynx's very morality. Alyan spat on the helmet of a nearby Black Legion Marine. He hated every last one of them. Every last one of the bastards were a stain on the beautifully woven silk that was the Milky Way.

Suddenly, a silvery-grey glint on the forearms of a Lynx with white fur and the markings of a Terran tiger caught Alyan's eye. He sprinted towards the source, hoping whoever it was was still alive. He cleared the 200 metre gap in less than 8 seconds. His heart dropped as he neared the Lynx. No, he was certainly dead. Suddenly, Alyan recognised the markings. They were of his brothers. He tried to push the thought out of hi head. But the eyes persudaded him otherwise. They were blue. Sadron had blue eyes. Deep blue. The corpse at Alyan's feet was, indeed, his brother's.

Alyan was stunned. Sadron was the only Lynx he trusted. You couldn't trust anyone these days. His mother had died when he was only 8 years old, and his dad had left long before that. Alyan had turned to his brother for everything. Whenever Alyan had needed help, he had sought Sadron out. Whenever he needed to confide in someone, Sadron had always been there. At Alyan's Crowning ceremony, Sadron had been the one to announce his elevation to Warrior Prince. Sadron himself had been a Bladelord, one of astounding quality and wisdom. And now he was dead. Just like that. Judging from the masses of bodies piled around him, Alyan knew Sadron had taken a last stand against these sons of bitches, and damn near won. But that didn't help to soften the depression and anguish that was rapidly building up inside. The only Lynx he had ever trusted, ever truly loved, killed by the greed of Chaos. It wasn't fair! He had done so much for so many people, and they had gone and killed him! IT WASN'T FAIR! Alyan burst into tears over his dead brother. He cried and sobbed for what must have been 20 minutes, before a soft voice spoke in his head.

"Alyan? Don't be sad. I didn't die in vain. I fought to the very end. Now look up for me,"

Alyan looked up, and there, floating in mid air, was an apparition.

It was Sadron.