Nuraema Secundus was a fetid backwater hive world; the tall columnar buildings projected skywards, ranging from the flat, square blocks that housed the dregs of society to the marble spires where the planetary elite lived in the lap of luxury, the buildings themselves challenged the sky to fall upon their spear-like roofs.

The Aquilla Lander that bore Naharva’s clearance level did little to stir the upper echelons; they were used to Inquisitorial visits and those from other branches of the Imperium, and Naharva was a common sight in the Nuraema system. As the bay to the Lander hissed open, the well worn facades of the planetary rulers shattered, replaced first by confusion at the womanly figure that strode purposefully from the belly of the craft, then by surprise as Naharva failed to appear, followed by barked orders to discover who she was, and finally gut-wrenching fear when they discovered the truth. Unbeknownst to all present, the cleansing of Nuraema Secundus had begun.

The sharp clicks of Khalaina’s fiery red boots upon the marble hallways of the Palace of Heria echoed ahead of her, warning all in the office of the Planetary Governor that she was approaching. Two stony-faced palace guardsmen stood astride the massive blast doors that blocked access to the office, their poses unmoving and their faces seemingly unaware of the Interrogator’s approach until she came within a certain distance. The guardsmen swiftly levelled their lasguns at the scarlet-clad intruder; her badge of office meant nothing to those trained in the art of defending such vital positions.

Without faltering, she slid a gloved hand into a pocket and plucked a dataslate from it, throwing it towards the guardsmen before her. One of them, with burnished gold epaulettes, dropped his lasgun to his side and plucked the slate from the air. Coming to life in his hand, his eyes flicked from left to right as he scanned it,

“Stand down.” He ordered his comrades, and as on they returned their lasguns to their previous neutral positions. He followed Khalaina closely as she approached, his eyes looking for a reason to kill her where she stood, but finding none. If he regretted this, he did not show it as Khalaina passed, the slate returning smoothly to her grip as she reached the thick adamantium blast doors. With a sharp spin, the golden-shouldered guardsman quickly punched in various things on the door controls, “Governor Andrius will see you now.”

Khalaina gave the guardsman a slight nod as the doors pulled apart from their impenetrable embrace, revealing the lavish space beyond. It was decorated in layers of red silk and velvet, trimmed with gold. In some parts, the room itself looked ablaze. Behind a dark mahogany table sat a plump man in a uniform that barely accommodated his size. It was apparent that his rank excluded him from further military service, and yet the myriad medals that adorned his chest spoke otherwise.

Officials fidgeted nervously beside him, save a stoic commissar, whom simply stared her in the eye with an hypnotic gaze that Khalaina could not quite decipher. A trembling assistant darted over to Khalaina as she entered with the doors closing behind; her steps muffled by the overly thick layer of carpet beneath her feet. The assistant bowed perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, likely out of fear, but Khalaina ignored him and kept her pace, her gaze fixed upon the Governor who shifted slightly in his leather seat, but looked otherwise unfazed.

Khalaina reached the desk and planted herself before it, staring down upon the Governor,

“You are Governor Andrius?” She asked.

“Correct.” Andrius swiftly replied.

“And you know who I am?”

“I do.”

“And why I am here?”

“I do.”

Khalaina mulled over the brief but sharp clash. His tongue was quick, but she doubted it was through intelligence; backwater worlds were infamous for their inbred rulers of ever diminishing intellect. It was more, she concluded, do with practice. Even an idiot could be taught science if he had enough time to practice. She had to remove him from his comfort zone.

“Nice office.” She remarked. As she anticipated, Andrius faltered; used to mind-numbing formality, he had no idea how to respond to idle talk, especially when coming from an Interrogator.

“Erm, yes, I guess it is.” He nervously replied. One of his aides leapt to his side and bent low to his ear, “I am glad that you approve of our establishments.” The aide withdrew quickly, stealing a quick smirk.

“I said that the office was nice, not that I approve of it.” Khalaina replied, “I think it a grievous waste of Imperial funds, surely you have a reason for this luxury?”

“I… uhh…” Andrius stuttered, forcing another aide to come to his rescue, “I don’t believe the Inquisition control how Planetary Governors may spend funds allocated to them,” He paused momentarily in faked thought as the aide withdrew, “But if you must know then we must make good impressions; the Imperium cannot afford to appear uncultured.”

“Quite.” Khalaina replied. She watched Andrius breathe a sigh of relief, “But then you surely realise that culture does not necessarily equate to lavish furnishings, and that such frivolity can be a sign of temptation by the forces that wish to topple the Imperium. I trust that I can count on your assurances that no such whispers have reached your mind?” She fondled the grip of her inferno pistol, watching as all eyes turned to it and grew wider.

An aide swooped in to save the faltering governor, but Khalaina had anticipated it, and gripped the pistol firmly, freezing him in place as his face blanched. Andrius realised he was on his own, and vigorously nodded.

“Good.” Khalaina said, removing her hand from the pistol, “I will begin the inspection of your facilities immediately. By order of the Inquisition, your defence force, your personal guards, your aides, and yourself, shall now answer to me or Inquisitor Naharva, should he make an appearance at a later date during my stay.

“I shall begin with an inspection of the defence force. I trust that they will be alerted and ready for my immediate arrival.” She flashed the Governor an emotionless smile, “Good day.” As she turned, her gaze fell upon the Commissar once more. He was involved in deep conversation with the governor, who seemed entranced and hung on his every word. Once more, she dismissed the actions as simply made out of fear, but nothing could quell the suspicions that lurked in her mind.

She passed back through the titanic adamantium doors and they slid shut behind her. The four guardsmen still stood like unmoving sentinels; the blast door was solid enough, and the governor’s office was no doubt linked to numerous escape routes,

“By order of the Holy Inquisition, you services have been surrendered to me.” She stated, drawing the synchronised gazes of the guards, “You will accompany me to the nearest guard station at once.”

The golden-shouldered guardsman from before gave a sharp salute, “At once my lady.” He motioned to the other three, and they took up rear positions as he took his place beside Khalaina, “I apologise for the meagre guard that you have, my lady, shall I order a squad of our Veterans to meet us at the palace gates? They are the finest warriors in this sector.”

“I trust that your company will be sufficient.” Khalaina replied, “Should this no longer be the case, I will make it known.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He saluted once more, and led Khalaina down through the corridors.

Each hallway looked the same. Busts of what appeared at first glance to be the same person littered the sides; various portraits of beautiful landscapes hung from the walls at regular intervals; ornamental suits of armour stood guard at various doors. It was a grotesque display of extravagance. Still, every time her gaze wandered to the waste of credits, something shifted in the corner of her eye. It was slight at first,’ a trick of the light’ she had concluded, and then it became slowly more pronounced, as if luring her away. Her guards seemed undeterred, either uninterested in these fleeting images, or incapable of seeing them.

Khalaina decided not to look away anymore, she would fix her eyes upon what was ahead of her. Anything would have to come into sight of her guards. But it did not. Nothing appeared. Khalaina became deeply suspicious. Her mind told her to stop and assess, but her legs told her to keep moving.

They turned a corner and walked into the open front of the palace. It was deserted, save for the behemoth marble pillars that held the roof aloft. Immediately, the golden-shouldered guardsman halted the party and pulled his lasgun up, stepping in front of Khalaina. The other three guardsmen took up positions to her side and rear, boxing her in inside a protective square,

“The guards are gone, something is not right.” The lead guardsman stated; if he was troubled then his voice gave nothing away. He muttered something into a miniature vox caster on his armour, but received no audible reply, “The vox is down, where is your ship my lady? We must get you off-world as soon as possib-” He trailed off as tall shapes glided out from behind the pillars.

They were cloaked in dark blues and purples, and each held a glowing magenta blade in their right hand. Covering their chests were plates of armour, littered with runes that emitted soft silver glows and seemed to shift at will. Gleaming purple gemstones, the same colour as their blades, adorned their armour. Atop their heads stood pointed blue helmets with silver faceplates and bright purple eyes. Khalaina stood in stunned silence, her face stoic, as the alien figures swept in closer, encircling the group,

“Fire at will!” Shouted the lead guardsman, and volleys of fierce red laser lanced across the aliens, but did nothing, either dissipating upon invisible barriers or being knocked aside by a flick of their free hands, “Again!” More lasfire raked the aliens, and yet again failed to afflict them. The aliens made no attempt to return fire; their sleek pistols were still holstered at their waists and they didn’t break pace to engage the guardsmen.

Several more volleys were ordered before the Xenos were close enough to simply pull the lasguns from their owners. With inhuman speed, the aliens plucked the lasguns from the firm grips of the guardsmen and sent them clattering to the ground.

Khalaina stayed silent as the aliens waited, and watched them turn their heads towards the thick central pillar. Another alien was striding towards them, his cloak fluttering behind him as he marched confidently across the marble, his steps making no audible sound upon the polished stone. The helmet of this one was more adorned, and featured a branch at the back which extended upwards. More purple stones covered his armour, and a single large rune that shone brilliant silver sat upon his chestplate. In his hand he held a long spear; the actual blade of which was a dark bone colour, sparking with psychic energies

“Interrogator Khalaina Ferrum,” The approaching alien began. His voice was smooth, but certainly not human. It was confident, almost arrogant, but calm. Khalaina could not decide which was more worrying; the unfaltering aliens that surrounded them, or the fact that they knew her, and addressed only her, “The runes told me that you would approach, and today the prophecy shall be fulfilled.

“You travel here to whip your government into shape, and yet you must do so much more. Evil taint has gripped the lower ranks of your naïve race, a taint unlike any that you will have seen. This is not the work of Chaos, but that of a far greater threat.”

“I do not appreciate your assaulting my party, Xeno.” Khalaina replied, all but ignoring the alien’s words, “Your attack and subterfuge have already condemned your words to me, and they can be naught but lies.”

“You humans are as stubborn as the galaxy is vast.” The alien stated plainly; no anger or rage at Khalaina’s judgement was present, “Your unwavering loyalty to your own cause would be worthy of much praise and respect if it did not cloud your judgement and seal your eyes shut like a newborn Gyrinx. Instead you see fit to shun what you do not believe, to shut out those who bring you warning and to blame your failures upon those to which you did not listen.

“Put aside your linear view and listen to me; you will find nothing but a bloody death if you continue to believe this world is loyal to your Imperium. Cast your mind back and lend your ear to your suspicions, for they are correct.”

Khalaina’s nose twitched, “Your vague predictions and predications mean nothing to me, alien. It is by curiosity and that alone that you yet live in my presence.” Her mind flicked back to the Commissar in the governor’s office, to his eyes, those hypnotic black spheres, and she shook them away, “Cease your meddling in my thoughts at once!” She was paralysed by an arcane force, and the memory was once again thrust upon her.

Where had she seen those eyes before? That was unimportant. Or was it? Of course it was! But that was a mistake made before in history. Perhaps… “You cannot be serious.” She muttered as the bonds upon her were lifted, “You impregnated my mind with false memories, this cannot be right!” She lifted her inferno pistol from its holster and ejected a stream of flame at the alien. The scorching fireball passed around him, tendrils of flame licked at the invisible wall surrounding the Xeno before recoiling and dying out.

“Foolish human.” The alien stepped forward and pulled the pistol from Khalaina’s hand in one fluid movement, “I give you a choice. Ignore our warnings and go to your doom, or stay and listen. I warn you that your precious world shall no longer exist should you choose incorrectly.” The alien proffered the inferno pistol, but Khalaina stood motionless, “You may have some intelligence after all.”

“Why do you listen to these filthy Xenos?” The lead guardsman hissed at Khalaina, “They are weaving a veil of lies and placing it upon us!” Before he could speak further, one of the aliens surrounding the group was upon him, his left hand in a firm grip around the guardsman’s neck, raising him high off the ground.

“You will show your superiors the respect they deserve. If you are the best that your race has to offer, then I pity those who rely upon you, and I weep for the damage that your actions shall cause.” The alien relaxed his grip and the guardsman fell to the floor, coughing and spluttering as his lungs once more received air.

Ignoring the outburst, the lead Xeno spoke, “Long ago, this world saw a large import of humans from a doomed world. That world was consumed by those know as Tyranids, a threat I am sure that you know of. What you did not anticipate was the scale of that invasion. Multiple humans carried the Genestealer strains of DNA inside them, and your bloated populations provided them with the perfect means of infiltration.

“What you face now is another invasion. Deep within the sewers of this planet live cults of these creatures, readying themselves to deliver this world to the Tyranids. There is a Shadow in the Warp here, and it will not be long before it engulfs this world and this sector. You have seen yourself that the cult has evolved so far as to be almost indistinguishable from humans, save for their hypnotic gazes and pitch black eyes. Unfortunately, your inbred leaders provide them with the very unrefined and ill-educated minds that they need to overthrow the rule of your Imperium.

“Return to Inquisitor Naharva Garron, and tell him of this discovery. He will dismiss it almost immediately. Give him my name. You have twenty-four of your human hours until it will be too late.”

The alien returned Khalaina's pistol, pivoted swiftly on his heels and retreated, disappearing behind the pillar from whence he had appeared, “Wait!” Khalaina shouted, but it was in vain. The other aliens too retreated to their pillars, and as the final one was removed from view by the marble behemoths, a flood of officials and guardsmen swept in from the various doors and hallways around the room, each unconcerned and without knowledge of what had just transpired.

“Damned Xeno!” Khalaina spat, “What name does he expect me to attach to a phantom?”

“Excuse me my lady,” The golden-shouldered guardsman appeared to be quite unaffected save for his raspy voice, even calm as he picked his lasgun up from the floor as if he'd meant to lay it down, and he rubbed his sore neck without a second thought as to how he became wounded, “But what Xeno?”

“It… doesn’t matter.” She replied, taking a cautious, sweeping gaze across the room, “Take me back to my ship.”

“But my lady, what about the inspection?”

“I have more pressing matters. You will accompany me back to Inquisitor Naharva. I may have a use for you yet, Guardsman…?”

“Connor, my lady, Connor Raggis.”

“Well then Connor, would you mind escorting me to my ship?”

“These claims are absurd.” Naharva stated, “Need I remind you that you are only an Interrogator, you do not yet have the training required to assess these problems, such skills take years to master, as well as a complete understanding of the Genestealer.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “I cannot sanction any sort of action on account of some wild-eyed Commissar.”

“With all due respect, my lord, it is not often that such maladies prove innocent; an hypnotic gaze can be all too indicative of possession.” Khalaina argued.

“Then it is a matter for the Ordo Malleus, and I will make a request for their presence through the proper channels in due course, but until then, you will return to the planet’s surface and give the governor back control of his planet.” He detached his targeting monocle from his armour, pulled a strange webbed cloth from a desk draw, and proceeded to wipe the translucent red surface, “You are barely even accountable as an agent of the Inquisition, Khalaina, were it a more competent governor leading the planet you could have dropped yourself into some very hot water.”

“I sized him up as soon as I entered, my lord, he was weak minded-”

“But his advisors were not. You said it yourself, the only way he could make any sort of verbal riposte was from a word in the ear; it is only our combined reputation that prevented you from overstepping your authority.

“You are young, too young for meddling in politics that are beyond your comprehension. You have the ability to extricate information and to joust with words, but only against those who are not likewise trained in verbal combat. I will not have my reputation, and that of the Ordo Xenos, brought low by the foolish actions of a rash Interrogator!” Naharva rarely shouted, and Khalaina felt tiny in his presence when he did, but the little nugget of information, the trick up her sleeve, allowed her to stand her ground.

“I understand my lord. But there is something I have been keeping from you.”

Naharva’s eyebrows rose, “I am listening.”

“I myself did not come to the conclusions I have come to you with.”

“You seek to only further discredit your argument? You disappoint me, Khalaina.”

“No, my lord, it came from a source which I was assured you would understand.” All she needed was a name, a damned name.

“Don’t pussyfoot around the point, girl!” Naharva said through gritted teeth.

“It was…” His name, “It was…” Why did he not give her his thrice-damned name? “It…” Naharva’s brows furrowed as his rage rose. He opened his mouth to speak, but Khalaina interrupted, “Erix.”

In an instant, his anger subsided. With shaking hands, he replaced the cloth in the drawer and his monocle over his eye, “Leave me.”

“My lord?”

“I said leave me.” Naharva’s voice was calm, but no less authoritative.

“As you wish, my lord.”

It had just appeared. Erix. She did not know, and then she did. Erix. It sounded oddly familiar. Her mind drifted as she waited outside Naharva’s quarters. Eldar. How did she not recognise the Farseer and his retinue? Something had clouded her memory, blocked her thoughts. Perhaps it was for the best, had she known, she would not have been open to his suggestions. Regardless, the Xeno had infiltrated her mind; she was not yet ready, as Naharva had said. He, Erix, would one day pay for his interference.

Naharva’s door hissed as it slid open, revealing the daunting shape of the Inquisitor, clad in polished black power armour. An array of artfully crafting rings adorned his fingers, each one a masterpiece of design and also extremely deadly, as was most digital weaponry available. At his waist he had a variety of objects, some such as the psychotroke grenade held obvious value in a fight, whereas others, such as the mysterious plasma siphon, seemed to be little more than oddities, and yet were the bane of certain races and aliens, or allowed the bearer to pass unharmed through their midst.

What often caused more concern to his enemies, however, was the crimson blade that crackled in its sheath at his hip. His force sword was the ultimate display of rank after the brilliant golden ‘=I=’ emblazoned upon his chest, and was also the last thing his enemies saw before they perished. With it, he had slain untold numbers of Xenos, and brought entire races to their knees. Combined with the forceshield upon his left arm, he could wade through enemy fire unscathed and deliver the Emperor’s justice to those Xenos deserving of it.

“Khalaina, you have been made privy to something far beyond your current capabilities to comprehend, and whilst I am not in the least bit happy about it, it seems as though I have no choice but to grant you access to this secret.” Naharva stepped in front of her and took a heavy breath, “Many years ago, the Imperial worlds in the Mauvoris sector witnessed a sector-wide disaster. The sanctioned psykers of the Imperial Guard forces stationed there went mad one by one, and in the first few days alone, hundreds of lives were lost.

“A select few, however, did not go mad in this sense; instead, they received horrific visions of chitinous beasts, hordes of them, approaching the sector. These psykers were grouped together into the Choir of the Forsaken, and foretold the gruesome deaths that would follow the invasion of the Shadow in the Warp.

“The governors of the worlds in the Mauvoris sector, however, did not listen, and the ramblings of the Choir did not leave their prison; and so the sector sat ignorant before a Tyranid splinter fleet looking to replenish their stocks. Some of the commanders of the PDF forces risked their own lives to go over the heads of their governors, and I was the first to respond to the request of Inquisitorial presence. It was not long after this call that Erix appeared to me.

“The Eldar are a tricky and untrustworthy race, but they are intelligent, and my curiosity not only as an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, but also as a human being, led me to listen to what he spoke of. The Planetary Governments had been infiltrated by Genestealer cultists – much like the ones we face upon Nuraema Secundus – and ensured that the Tyranids were not only unexpected, but also already in control of their latest feast. What the Tyranids did not expect, however, was the Holy Inquisition, and the might of a Craftworld.

“Erix and I worked tirelessly whilst en route to the Mauvoris sector; his knowledge about the Tyranids and expertise in dealing with them being second to none, but the Tyranids had all but beaten us there and we only reached one conclusion: Exterminatus. Ultimately it worked for both of our races; the Tyranids were deprived of their meal; the Eldar warriors of Erix’s Craftworld, Dras’Scur, ultimately crushed the weak, hungry fleet; and the Imperium was saved from facing a full-strength Hive Fleet, albeit at the cost of an entire sector.

“From that day, my main foe has been the Tyranid menace; it is because of them that I condemned trillions of innocent lives to death, and because of them that the Imperium must make these sacrifices for the good of humanity. Dras’Scur likewise seeks to eliminate the Tyranids, for they pose one of the greatest threats to their dwindling number, and have already claimed untold numbers of Eldar lives across the galaxy. They must be destroyed.” Naharva’s eyes burned with incandescent fury, the likes of which Khalaina had never before seen. His force weapon hummed as powerful psychic currents reverberated through it from the hand upon its hilt, and he strode purposefully past the Interrogator,

“I do not trust many, and I do not generally trust Eldar, but I do trust Erix when it comes to matters such as these. Come, Interrogator Ferrum, we have much work to do and not nearly enough time in which to do it.”

Once more, Naharva’s Lander made its purposeful approach upon the citadel, coming to rest upon an empty landing pad devoid of the usual officials. That alone was a cause for concern. Naharva motioned at Khalaina and Connor to stay put as the ramp hissed open. He plucked a breathing mask from its hook above one of the empty seats and threw it down the ramp. Dozens of holes riddled it before it had even flown halfway down,

“Erix, tell your Rangers to stand down.” Naharva’s voice rumbled.

Khalaina watched as a shadow approached the ramp, and Erix swiftly appeared at the maw of the Lander, “Naharva,” He said in his dulcet alien tone, “It is good to see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Naharva strode down the ramp and gripped the Farseer’s arm in a respectful embrace, “Was the welcoming committee really necessary?”

“In a sense; we could not be sure.”

“A Farseer who isn’t sure about the future? That’s a first.”

“Quite.” Erix looked up at Khalaina, who was still seated, meeting her angry gaze, “I believe an apology is in order; time was of essence and I could not have you groping around in the dark; some degree of prompting was an unfortunate necessity.”

“I am sure that I could come to understand that in time.” Khalaina venomously replied. She could tell that the Farseer wanted to reply even without seeing his face, but he restrained himself.

“My Rangers currently hold someone you may find interesting.”

Khalaina’s nose twitched, “I see. Might I be able to see him?”

Erix turned to Naharva, who gave him a short nod, “You may.” He then looked in the direction Connor, who was sitting opposite Khalaina with his small squad, “You are about to become crucial in this, and I must know that you are fully committed to the cause of your Imperium.”

Connor looked over to Khalaina and back at Erix, “I am, although I may well be executed for it at a later date.”

“Your future holds no executions, Connor Raggis, so long as you are unfaltering in your loyalty and leadership.” He motioned for him to step out, “Come, we have to discuss your role.” Connor stood and stepped down the ramp, followed by his entourage. Erix then returned his gaze to Khalaina, “Lohar will take you and Naharva to meet your friend, try not to cause much irreparable harm to him during your… discussion.”

Khalaina joined Naharva at the foot of the lander and watched Erix lead Connor inside the Citadel. Something shimmered at the side of the landing pad, and a cloaked figure emerged seemingly from nowhere. His hood was up over a mask face, and a slender rifle was slung across his back,

“Inquisitor, Interrogator.” He said, “If you would please accompany me into the Citadel.”

Khalaina strutted around the Commissar. The dark vortices in his skull were paid no heed in this room. In here, she ruled.

“You hold information.” Khalaina stated, “I want it.”

“You waste your time, or what of it that you have left.” The Commissar spat. His tone was audibly inhuman, and was a collection of phlegm and clicking teeth. A deadly grin adorned his face, bearing sharp dagger-like teeth.

“You are beginning to bore me, Xeno.” Khalaina replied, “I don’t like being bored.”

“Then go and, how you say, soak your head.” The cultist made a wet noise from its throat in what could only be an attempt to laugh.

“I daresay that you shall be the one soaking yours once I am through, although it will do nought to heal the burns.” She crossed the grey stone floor to a metal table lined with an array of tools. She grunted at the selection and instead pulled the pistol from her hip, “You are lucky today, this world does not contain the equipment I usually have available. It seems as though I’ll have to improvise.” She fired a stream of flame above the face of the commissar, singeing his hair. He remained unfazed, but that was to be expected.

“Fascinating.” He stated, “I get to see a fire show.” Once more he laughed, and Khalaina brought her arm sharply down against his throat, causing him to lurch forward in his straps in a fit of coughing and spluttering.

“That was fun, wasn’t it? I’m not as bored now.”

The Commissar’s grin returned, “You expect me to speak with a smashed throat? Go ahead, do it again.”

Khalaina ignored his comment. Aliens were far less susceptible to intimidation, especially those who chose to bear the visage of a human. She may have to improvise, “Are you treasured amongst your family, Xeno?”

“My family holds no ties.”

Khalaina raised an eyebrow, “No ties? None at all? I am surprised; it must be true what they say about the Tyranids then, that the greatest beast is comparable to the lowliest of insects when it comes to it. Each is a tool and nothing more.” She glared at the entombed commissar, “Are you a tool, Xeno?”

The commissar spat a great green globule in Khalaina’s direction. She let it land upon her hand, and smirked. The commissar’s grin faded as she strode over to him and wiped the mucus up his arm, “One of the great properties of alien spittle is that a lot of it is poisonous and toxic,” She hovered her pistol inches from the lathered arm, and the commissar growled, “And most of all, highly flammable.” Her inferno pistol whispered an ember upon the arm, and it caught in an instant.

Alien howls were sill audible through the clenched teeth of the commissar, reverberating through his throat. The flames cast shadows across Khalaina’s face, and she let loose a sharp laugh, “I ask again, are you a tool?” The flames subsided as the last of the fuel was consumed, allowing Khalaina to do away with the dying embers with sharp jabs upon the heavily burned skin.

“I will tell you nothing!” The Xeno shouted. Tears rolled down his face from the pain, and Khalaina cottoned on. Human emotion would be the downfall of these cultists; no amount of interracial breeding could snuff out that flame.

“Do you like being a tool? Something to be used until it is deemed worthless and thrown away?” Khalaina asked, “Don’t you feel that your deeds here, your ability to bend the will of the planetary government, is of great importance to your plans? Don’t you feel that you are to be praised instead of cast aside?”

“I am below him! I am not worthy of praise!”

“Below whom? Is there a father in your cult? Do you wish that your father loved you more? Were you not his favourite, thus why you fought to be the best possible?”

“Father has no favourites!”

“Oh but he must! Is there not one who had his attention from birth? Perhaps the first born? Or the smartest?”

“He is not smart! He is stupid! He possesses powers that I should have possessed!”

“Does that make you angry? Do you not wish for vengeance? Wish to see him perish in the flames of his own undoing?” She let her inferno pistol breathe great gouts of flame, “He must surely think himself better if you are the one doing the legwork.”

“He is a coward! He hides with Father! He thinks himself immune to attack!”

“It must be hard to find if he has hid this well.”

“The maze is vast; I doubt he even knows the way up into the streets.”

Success. “Where is this entrance into the streets?” The Xeno fell silent. Something was amiss. Blood seeped from his mouth and his pitch black eyes rolled back into his skull.

The iron door to the room was flung open and Erix entered, “We know where they lie.”

Khalaina stared at the body of the commissar, “How?”

“The Magus of his cult could not regain control through his emotions, he was forced to kill him, but I traced his psychic link.”

Khalaina doubted it was possible, but cared not, “And?”

“The underhive. They squat in the safety of this city’s sewers.”

Connor’s task had been a simple one. He was to use as many of his contacts within the PDF as possible to eliminate the cultists inside, and lead a rebellion of Guard forces; bolstered by the elite marksmen of the Eldar, the witchblades of their warlocks, and the Striking Scorpion and Warp Spider aspects that made lightning-fast hit and run strikes, the initial overthrowing of the cultists forces was quick and nearly bloodless for the rebels.

The Inquisition came to cleanse the planet. They would have to fight for it.

Khalaina wandered through the smouldering ashes of the Schola Progenium; somewhere she had once called her home. If the taint of the cult had indeed seeped into the Schola, then it must have been exceedingly well hidden. Nobody had been spared in its cleansing. Loyal servants of the Emperor had burned to death for no crime save unknowingly walking the same corridors as Xeno cultists. It was a necessary sacrifice, but Khalaina could not help feeling sickened. She had been tutored here; had grown up here; had made her future here; and that future was to see her past taken by flames. The wicked irony.

“This is the culmination of your quest.” The voice echoed softly through her mind, “You came here to serve your Emperor, and in your misguided haste you destroyed your past using that which you treasure the most. All those people you knew and trusted and loved as if they were your own family and you sentenced them to burn.”

The heat that once coursed through her body had cooled. She no longer felt the dizzying high whenever flames surrounded her. Scents of promethium, burning flesh and charred wood that suffused the air and were once found enticing now only served to clog her throat and sting her eyes. Had she indeed made the wrong decision?

Here and there she recognised untouched parts of her past. She recalled her fervent steps past them, how she burned with the Emperor’s light and how she was now left empty by what she had caused. Her parents had been taken from her; left her in the darkness of this Emperor-forsaken world until the Schola Progenium took her in, her thrice-damned father’s status was all that had afforded her that luxury.

Memories of how she sat silently for days on end in her room flashed to the fore of her mind, haunting her thoughts. She would not eat or drink or sleep; she would talk to nobody save herself, and nobody worth listening to had talked to her. She had been here on her own in a fortress of her own sorrow once before, and she had come back again to awaken that painful memory.

“And so it has come full circle. You are back where you began, and for what? To condemn this world, your homeworld, to death. Your anguish serves only to remind you of this failure in the eyes of your Emperor. Were he here beside you now, he would smite you down, and with good reason.”

The God-Emperor of Mankind. He had come to her in her thoughts. He had lifted her from her coma of grief and had instilled her with the courage to go on. It was by His will that she stalked the halls of the Schola, thirsty for knowledge and hungry for the chance to prove herself in His eyes. She had proceeded with His blessing, and had not yet been struck down.

Patches of flame around her lunged upwards, moulding into shimmering fiery figures with their burning tendrils extended towards her like fingers. The Emperor stood with her this day, if not physically. His will would be done, and this was it.

She had been born here and raised here, in the madness of this world. It steeled her, reminded her that she was here to cleanse the world of its sins, born of the world as its saviour. The thought made her fearless as she turned and walked back to join the attack. What did she have to lose in this? Nothing. The bridge to her past had been burned away; she had no past to lose now. If she were to perish here, then Naharva and Erix would go on.

She had dreamed of returning to her homeworld one day; a shining example of how a festering backwater world can yet produce zealous servants of the Emperor. But dreams were drugs for those too weak to make their own legends; they get in the way of progress, and each minute spent dreaming is a minute that could be used to make it happen. She had fought her dreams as they came, and she had blazed her own trail.

Her steps became larger and faster, and the echoes inside her head were but fleeting whispers to which she paid no heed. Her renewed faith reignited the flickering flame that had been coughing and spluttering since she had arrived. The heat of purpose and fervour fed her body energy. She could not live without the fire that flowed through her veins or the inferno in her heart. It was the heat of her belief that gave her strength and determination. She could not hide what lay inside of her. It was all that she was and all that she knew. She would embrace it; embrace the fire inside of her; and never walk away.

The push into the lower spires had initially cost the PDF as they threw themselves against the barricades. Khalaina saw loyal guardsmen perish on either side of her, and yet she felt no fear. Each brave soldier who fell served to build her zeal, and their assassin would quickly feel the breath of her inferno pistol. The Eldar strikes into the heart of the gangs were what crippled them, however.

The PDF were meat shields, but they fought as if they were the last line of defence for the Imperium itself. The slums of Imperial Hive Cities never ceased to amaze, and the sheer bravery of the guardsmen was something comparable only to the elite forces of the Cadians. Bravery did not often win wars, but it helped.

With the cultist defences broken, the assault into the underhive was close. Multiple entrances had been located, and Erix had pinpointed the location of the Magus in the sewer warrens that ran beneath their feet. Victory was close.

“It’s best if we split up. My Scorpions will scout ahead and eliminate tougher opposition. They have faced these beasts before. The Magus is the primary target here. From what I can tell, the cult only evolved a single one, but it is more powerful that most. Once the Magus goes down, the Patriarch must be hunted; from there, the cult will collapse.” Erix stared down the dark passageway into the underhive, “I have a bad feeling about this, but we must press on regardless. Good luck, and may the stars guide your path; metaphorically of course.”

Erix entered the darkness with the lithe Scorpions in tow. Warlocks led other groups of the Aspect Warriors into different entrances, and swiftly disappeared from view.

“You were missed during the beginning of the battle.” Naharva said, staring down into the blackness.

“I had to do something. Something important.” Khalaina replied.

Naharva nodded in understanding, “Your path is a twisted one, with many hurdles. Let the fire in your soul light the way.” He motioned to the entrance as Connor rounded a corner before them, a squad of guardsmen in tow, “The greatest challenge of your career awaits you, Inquisitor Khalaina.”

“Inquisitor?”

“You have been in my service for more time than you think, and there are Inquisitors out there who would not have trusted themselves here, nor even uncovered the truth; Eldar or no Eldar. I have passed on my recommendation to the High Lords of Terra - I have contacts who can find the quickest way of approving your status - and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” He gave Khalaina a thin smile, “Just don’t disappoint me.”

Khalaina nodded, motioned to Connor, and started down into the darkness. Out of the blue, her mind flung a single shout through the warrens, “You need not fear me, unless you are dark heart; a vile one who preys upon the innocent; I promise, you cannot hide forever in the empty darkness, for I will hunt you down like the animals you are, and pull you into the very bowels of hell.”[/

A foul stench permeated the stale air inside the unlit sewer tunnels. Glowing orbs bathed the rusty iron pipes in soft blue light, left there by the Eldar to lead the way. Khalaina wrinkled her nose as she stepped in yet another puddle of Emperor-knows-what, grimacing as she pulled her boot free of the semi-solid brown mass with a loud squelch.

The warren of tunnels seemed endless, and she felt like she was going around circles until she spotted some feature or other that indicated otherwise, usually a rotting corpse that wasn’t there the last time she swore that she had taken the same turn.

She noted, however, the distinct lack of fresh casualties. Every body she discovered had been dead for years, and nothing shifted in the emptiness save for her and her team. She looked back at Connor, who gave her a slight shrug. Something was not right.

Finally they reached an intersection in the sewer. One corridor lay straight ahead, another descended helically to her right, and a second led straight down. It was here that the glowing orbs ceased to appear. All of her sight was provided by the sole orb laying the centre of the intersection. The perfect place for an ambush.

“I don’t like the look of this,” Said Connor as he stepped up beside her, “It seems too… trappy.”

“Trappy?” Khalaina replied.

“I apologise, my lady, but a more suitable word has not yet graced my vocabulary.”

“In that case, I agree, it does seem ‘trappy’.” She glared into the dark, trying to look for markings or clues, “How’s the vox?”

Connor shook his head, “Static on all channels.”

Khalaina sighed, “If you want something done right, never ask a Xeno to do it.”

Something shifted on the helical staircase. She saw the shadows move a fraction of an inch and she instinctively attacked the darkness with flame. Lasbolts from her squad joined the brief assault, but nothing remained when the smoke had cleared save for charred stone.

“Look out!” Connor shouted as he shoved Khalaina into the side of the sewer. A slug flew through the space where her had had been only a second ago, and struck the stone behind with a loud crunch which reverberated through the tunnels.

As she lifted her head, she saw the approaching humanoid shapes in the passageway ahead, and heard the pattering of bare feet and the clicks of talons upon stone from both staircases. Cries from the rear of her party indicated that they were now surrounded, and the trap had been sprung.

Inhuman growls echoed from the approaching cultists, followed by the arming of ancient autoguns from a bygone era, but no less deadly for it. Without a second thought, she pushed herself away from the wall, and gave the order to fire.

Connor’ lasgun was the first to fire, and instantly dropped one of the cultists. Several lasbolts flicked past before the loud coughs of autogun-fire shattered the silence as if it were glass. The tunnel was a tight space, and the slugs slammed into their targets with ease, but lacked true penetration and were repelled by the flak armour of the guardsmen, but left their wearers winded.

A slug whizzed past Khalaina’s cheek from behind, and she chanced a glance, finding the guardsmen now engaged in desperate hand-to-hand fights with the outflanking cultists. What the cultists lacked at ranged capability, they made up for ten-fold in melee; their sharp talons and razor teeth tearing through flak armour and flesh with ease.

Her inferno pistol was rendered useless by the range of the cultists ahead, and the presence of her entire squad in the line of fire to the rear, and so she reluctantly holstered her prized pistol, drawing her power sword instead. The blade felt uncomfortable in her hands, and she rarely called upon it, but she could not afford to be picky here. It crackled with blue energy, and bolts arced across its face like a deadly light show. With sword in hand, she gave Connor a quick order to hold the line, and pushed through to the rear.

As she emerged, she was immediately beset by the cultists, their minds sensing that she was now the largest threat. A sharp thrust felled the first, the powered blade slipping cleanly through the half-human as if he were simply air. A second cultist lashed out with one of its clawed hands, and she rushed to deflect the strike, slicing the appendage clean off. If the cultist was in pain, then it did not show it through its alien sneer, but another thrust made sure that he was put out of whatever misery he was in,

“My lady, the stairs are full of these beasts; we cannot hold them back!” Connor shouted over the cacophony of battle.

“Hold the line, Connor! The Emperor shall grant us victory over these beasts!” She swung at another cultist, splitting him in two just below the shoulders, “In the name of the Emperor, you will stand your ground!” Her rallying cry received roaring acknowledgement from the outnumbered guardsmen, and they redoubled their defense.

Her blade whirled in crescent arcs as she became reacquainted with the weapon, but the confines of the tunnels were deceptive, and in the middle of another killing blow, the blade struck the stone roof, slicing through until it slowed enough to ground to a halt. The cultist wasted no time in mounting a counter-attack, but found a bayonet driving through its skull as it lurched to strike. The guardsman gave Khalaina a sharp nod as she pulled her blade free, and drove another strike into the face of a second cultist, before a third kicked him to the floor.

Khalaina darted forward and speared the Xeno on her sword, kicking the corpse free. The guardsman lay on the floor with large bloody gouges in his chest where the cultist’s talons had torn through. Regardless, he fired frenzied shots into the mass of enemies with his lasgun until he finally succumbed to the blood loss.

What seemed to have taken hours had taken only several minutes, and Khalaina now stood beside only three other guardsmen; Connor and two others from the PDF force. Pain erupted from points where she had been slashed, the adrenaline coursing through her now subsiding enough for her wounds to make their presence felt,

“My lady, you must leave us behind.” Connor panted, “The assassin at the start came from the helical staircase; that’s probably where the Magus is.”

Khalaina faltered, but as the cultists slowly crept in to finish them off, she felt herself edging towards the staircase, “May the Emperor watch over you.” She muttered to the three guardsmen. With a burst of speed, she dashed towards the staircase; those who tried to stop her were blocked by lasbolts until she was gone.

All she could hear was the spluttering of autoguns behind her, and the screeches of the cultists. Her legs carried her as fast as they were able through the narrow passageways, and her heart hammered inside her chest. Adrenaline once more filled her bloodstream, but she did not look back. She was not afraid of the death that awaited her should she slip or come to a dead end, no, what she feared most was the Connor’s last stand could be for nought. And yet, the tunnels kept going.

It took her a minute to recognise the lack of footsteps chasing her, and the lack of alien chatter. Cautiously, she slowed as she approached another bend in the tunnel. Nothing was following. She rounded the bend and found a second staircase leading further down into the underhive.

Each step was careful, and eventually flickering orange light licked at the stone walls. Holding her power sword in one hand, and her inferno pistol in the other, she strode down the final few stairs, and came out into a brightly-lit space. Braziers of flame lined the walls, separated by doorways to more corridors and flights of stairs. The room was devoid of much else save for a decedent altar at the very back.

Standing before it, dressed in a heavy robe of red and gold, was what looked to be a stumpy man, except his head was large and bulbous, with veins criss-crossing the surface, and his eyes were simply pits of black like those of beetles,

“Greetings, Interrogator; I have been expecting your, albeit your corpse more than your living self. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the sole Magus of this cult, and I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine.” The Magus uttered every word wholly and perfectly, as if taunting her with its intellect.

“The Emperor cares not who you are, nor your purpose on this planet. In his name, I shall strike you down and end your uprising.”

“End? But my dear, did the Eldar not tell you? The Hive Fleet entered this sector two days ago. It has been sitting dormant on the edge of it, awaiting the signal to feed.” Khalaina’s eyebrows furrowed, and the Magus laughed, “Your efforts have been in vain, especially since the signal has already been given. Strike me down here, human, but it shall make no difference. We shall feed.”

The air beside Khalaina’s face hissed and a hole appeared between the eyes of the Magus, his jaw still open in laughter as he swayed and slumped to the side. She turned and saw Connor propped up beside Erix, and a warlock standing astride the pair,

“Not now,” Khalaina had barely even opened her mouth, “It is time to leave; your part in this is almost over.”

“No.” She said. This time Erix had gone too far. Khalaina despised having trusted the Farseer at all, and hated how he had Naharva wrapped around his finger like a puppy all too eager to please his master. The Eldar were not untrusted for nothing.

“You know not what forces you are meddling with, child.” Erix stated, “Time is quickly running out. Naharva can explain everything to you once you’re safely clear of this planet’s orbit.”

“Naharva Garron is a fool.” She replied, “He trusts you somehow, and he has become misguided. You have led him astray the same way you did with me, but I shall have no more of it; unlike him, I understand how you intend to manipulate the Imperium for your own devices. It ends now.”

“My lady, the Farseer speaks the truth; what has been done was done for the good of the Imperium.” Connor added.

Khalaina stared hard at the guardsman. She could not believe what she was hearing; had Erix entered his mind as he had her own? “You are not yourself, Connor; you don’t know what I know.”

“And what do you know?” Erix spat, his words coated in derision, “You claim to ‘understand’ us; to simply dispel our words with a flick of your wrist. You know nothing, Mon-Keigh! Nothing! Our empire once wrote our names in the very stars that you declare your own; we have each lived individual lives that span your race’s entire existence; and yet you still seek to oppose us, to declare us wrong, to assert your narrow-minded dominance over us, and for what? To give yourselves someone else to blame when your Imperium crumbles and falls apart?

“Men like Naharva are what keep your race from certain demise. He knows that without our aid, you would not see so much as another century of existence amongst these stars, nevermind millennia. I believed that you of all people could see that we share a common goal, and that the survival of Humanity depends upon our achieving it, but I have been wrong about your kind before. If you will not aid us, then we shall sweep you aside and leave you in the rubble of your own pathetic self-importance.”

Khalaina could see that Erix was visibly enraged. The sight tickled her, and yet drove home the importance of his words. Beside him, the Warlock’s fingers crackled with arcs of eldritch energy. And then Connor. Something inside her stirred as she stared into his eyes, something that fed her own desire for vengeance, for war, but not against the Eldar, no; against the Tyranid menace.

Such a feeling had not graced her since He had come to her all those years ago, and those eyes, they looked all too similar, “Dear Emperor, how could I have been so blind?” She whispered. A tear fell from her eye as she felt His reassurance.

“My lady?” Connor spoke, bringing Khalaina out of her reverie.

“Connor…” She muttered; her mind still hazy and her thoughts fragmented. Snippets came back to her; the realisation that Erix was right; the opening of her eyes; and the hunger for revenge; at once, it coalesced and her mind once again became whole, “I will leave with you now.”

Khalaina watched the planet from the viewing deck of Naharva’s ship. Her heart burned with the desire for vengeance, but at last she understood,

“Khalaina,” Naharva started, “I can only apologise for what I have put you through, and that I could not have told you sooner.” He glanced over at Erix, who gave him a slight nod and gestured to continue. He wet his lips nervously, “We were not here by chance, Khalaina; Erix and I had traced the signal, a psychic beacon that called to the Hive Fleet, but it was too late to pre-emptively act.

“This is all good and well,” Khalaina spoke, “But I believe we’ve digressed a little; why does Nuraema Primus have to be destroyed?”

One by one the tendrils of the hive ships were extended towards the planet. Spores struck the surface and all manner of creatures stalked its streets; and then a flash of red burst from the planet’s crust, followed by streaks of flame and lava lancing skywards. The hive ships withdrew as the planet became a raging conflagration. Across the sector, similar scenes occurred, with Cyclonic Torpedoes igniting the core of the planets and setting them ablaze in nuclear fires.

The Hive Fleet had been promised food, and now watched it burn away.

Khalaina felt no sympathy or sorrow for the aliens, she was satisfied watching them burn. Over the next few weeks, the remnants of the fleet would starve, and the Eldar’s raids and strikes would eventually kill it off.

The Imperium needed these sacrifices; like Khalaina, it could not live without the fire that now condemned Imperial citizens to death so that ten or one hundred-times more Tyranids could be destroyed.

But Khalaina knew what had to be done now, and she steeled herself.

Her heart of fire was matched by her mind, and her will of iron.