Through the hail of frost, a large black shape could be spotted trudging through the fallen snow under the shadow of a looming mountain peak. The shape's speed betrayed it's size as it quickly made progress through the snow, seemingly oblivious to the frostbitten chill that cut through the air like a knife.
Faelen Sarisus braved the frost as he moved his armoured legs through the snow. He may be able to survive in inhospitable climates, but if the temperature dropped any lower, he would have to find shelter and wait the blizzard out. Uttering a curse in the name of the Dark Prince, he clenched his sharpened teeth and pushed forwards. The servo motors in his ancient power suit groaned as he attempted to break the ice forming in the joints of his armour.
His black armour, once a great relic in the Imperium, was warped and twisted, sprouting scythed barbs and all manner of unspeakable things. Human and xenos heads alike had been tied to the shoulder pads like macabre trophies. Replacing the Imperial Eagle on the chest was the symbol of the Dark Prince, Slaanesh. The air surrounding the armour shimmered with the powers of Chaos. However, the helmet was missing, leaving Faelen's pale face to suffer the cold, his fang-like teeth bared in pain.
Pain.
Throughout his millennia of existence, Faelen had suffered horrendous amounts of pain. Joyous amounts of pain. His veins burned and ached for the sensation once again as his thoughts wandered to past experiences. He quickly shook his head, banishing the thoughts in favour of concentration. He had to push forward, lest the hunters caught him.
The hunters.
For many months he had fled over the surface of Corbello IV, constantly chased by hunters looking to slay him in the name of their False Emperor. He spat at the ground in disgust; constantly chased like a dog. He would have torn their heads from their wretched bodies if they didn't number so many, but alas, he was alone. He was always alone.
Year after year of isolation had warped his mind. He no longer remembered where he came from, who his brothers were, or how he had come to be on Corbello IV. All he knew was service; never-ending loyalty to the Dark Prince.
He looked over his shoulder, scouring the horizon for signs of enemies. A sudden flash of green moving between two jagged rocks in the distance caught his attention. His enhanced sight studied the area until the flash of green turned into the shape of a large man. Upon closer inspection, the man appeared to be wearing dark green armour and a creamy white robe; one of the hunters.
For the first time in millennia, a rush of fear stabbed at his wicked heart as the hunter moved effortlessly through the snow, gaining on Faelen with immense speed. Turning swiftly, he moved towards base of the mountain peak to his left and began climbing the steep wall. Grasping at icy protrusions from the rock wall, he ascended towards the sky with the desperation of a hunted man. He continued climbing until his hands finally grasped at the top of the cliff. In a fluid motion, he quickly swung himself up over the edge and felt the comfort of solid ground under his body once again.
Bringing himself to his feet, he rapidly moved away from the cliff edge, leaping over large boulders and rocks with ease as he ran. Ignoring the intense wind lashing at his face, he continued to flee. Suddenly, he stopped. The ground had abruptly ceased to exist as it opened up to a large chasm before him. The drop seemed limitless, the ground below lost under an all-shrouding darkness.
Faelen's eyes widened as he desperately looked from side to side, looking for an alternate path. But, there was nowhere; the impossibly steep cliff walls either side of him and the deep chasm in front of him blocked off his route of escape. The only option was backwards; towards the hunter.
"There is nowhere else to run, traitor," a deep voice echoed throughout the rocky outcrop.
Slowly turning, Faelen came face-to-face with the hunter. Deep red eyes bore into his through an ominous skull mask. The hunter's green armour and white robes were adorned with golden trinkets and symbols showing his utter dedication to the False Emperor. In his right hand he grasped what looked like a mace, with the head shaped like that of the Imperial Aquilia.
Faelen was about to take a step back when he noticed that the hunter was alone; his brothers nowhere to be seen. The fool had the audacity to think he could challenge a champion of the Dark Prince alone? Faelen's white lips twisted into a smirk as a deep laugh boomed out of his mouth.
"Where are your wretched kin, fool?" Faelen mocked, taking a step towards the hunter. "Do you dare challenge me alone?"
"My brethren are not needed. I have taken up the task of hunting those that turned from the Emperor's guiding light and I alone will carry out that task," the hunter spat, burning hatred evident in his voice.
Faelen's smirk was plastered on his face as he unsheathed his curved blade from it's scabbard. Holding the weapon in front of him, he flicked a button on the hilt of the sword, causing a deep blue hue to surround the blade as it was wreathed in crackling energy. Looking at the hunter, he felt the gaze of Slaanesh over him, filling him with morbid joy.
"Very well, but let it be known that the Dark Prince will take great delight in feasting on your cursed soul," Faelen laughed.
The hunter answered with a zealous roar as he charged towards Faelen, deadly mace swinging with fury. The sudden attack caught Faelen off guard, sending him on the defensive, parrying the furious assault. Blow after blow sent him reeling, until he finally managed to kick at the hunters chest, knocking the zealous warrior backwards. Taking the advantage, Faelen swung at the hunter's head. With lightning quick reflexes, the warrior brought his mace in front of his face, stopping Faelen's blade only inches away from splitting his skull.
The hunter began to chant litanies, of which Faelen did not care to listen. Swiftly, he brought his sword back for another blow, only to have it knocked aside by the hunter's powerful mace. Surprise formed across Faelen's face as his sword was sent flying off the edge of the chasm, plunging into the darkness forever.
He could almost sense the hunter's victorious smile through the mask.
Fluidly, the hunter continued his attack, smashing the mace across Faelen's breast plate. Ancient power armour buckled as the mace tore into it, crushing Faelen's ribs and organs. Flying backwards, the Traitor Marine hit the snow with a resounding thud, blood flowing freely down his chin as he coughed and spluttered. The hunter stood over him; the robes and skull mask giving him the appearance of death itself.
As his battered insides gave in and his heart shut down, Faelen could hear a faint laughter ringing in his head; the laughter of the gods mocking his defeat.
The Interrogator-Chaplain watched the dying traitor with a mix of disgust and pity. To see a once proud and noble warrior of the Emperor reduced to such a monster brought a sadness to his heart. But, his duty had been fulfilled; one more traitor had been brought to justice by the Dark Angels. One more bead to add to his rosarius.
Slowly, he bent down and inspected the shoulder pad of the now dead marine; the faded symbol of a winged sword could still be seen. Shaking his head in pity, he offered a prayer to the Emperor and the Lion before he rose to his feet and quietly left to return to his unit.