Prologue

Questions. Anger. Pure, burning hatred and, at the same time, a deep and unending sense of loss and sadness, of desperation and complete and utter loneliness. Normally feelings unknown to an Astartes, they constantly plagued the sergeant. He knelt, surrounded on all sides by the never-ending snow of his home world. Freezing winds cut at him, but he felt nothing.

Why me?

This was his question, this was his bane. Why him? Out of billions of souls, all loyal to their god, why him? Why should he survive, and they die? He did not deserve life. He was of no worth, was too flawed, too… doubtful. His faith was not as utterly unshakeable as that of his brothers. His failures were far more damning, his mistakes unforgivable. The blood of thousands, millions of people was on his hands. The near-complete destruction of an entire Astartes Chapter, his fault. The death of his closest friend and brother, his responsibility.

And so, why him? The Marine asked this question of the Emperor every day, begged for a response. None came. He'd sat on his knees crying, pleading his god to guide him, and received nothing. The cold stares of the statues of the God-Emperor always bore into his soul, condemning him, denying him. They would constantly remind him of his faults, add to the weight of the considerable amount of guilt he bore.

The Kaos-held planet of Arein was retaken, but after considerable loss of life and one hundred years of slavery and resistance warfare. Half of his squad had been killed. The desert planet of Preaore was invaded by a legion of Kaos worshippers. The Hunters Astartes Chapter escaped the destruction with barely one hundred Marines and four thousand civilians. The remainder of the sergeant's tactical squad and close to eight billion lives were lost. The sergeant simply had lost all will to go on, and so he sat, and he waited. Either the Emperor would let him live, would forgive his unforgivable crimes, or he would die. And so, Lenikov waited.

Riktovi, head down, eyes closed, prayed for the souls of all the Marines fallen in the last engagement. He slowly listed the names of the fifty-four Arctic Wolves no longer with them. After a slight hesitation, he added Kyr Lenikov's name to the list. The sergeant was still alive, technically speaking. He breathed, prayed, and moved as living things do, but his mind and soul were gone. The Marine was lost, with no purpose or direction.

He blamed himself for the losses on Arein, and later on Preaore. He blamed himself for the shortcomings of the Imperium's commanders when Arein was forced to struggle for survival under one hundred years of Kaos rule. He even blamed himself for the civilians and Guardsmen lost on Preaore, for every Marine left behind during the evacuation. In his eyes, every single Imperial death was on his hands, because he could not save them. He could not drag himself clear of the cloud a sorcerer had placed over him many years ago. He could not save even his honour brother.

A Marine approached the captain, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Nikolai…'

Riktovi stood and faced his brother. 'Ordnatev. It is good to see you, brother.'

Captain Vissar Ordnatev inclined his head. 'And you. I am sorry for your losses. Preaore was a hard fight. Their sacrifices will be remembered.'

Riktovi nodded. 'Their souls are with the Emperor now. All we can do is struggle on.'

'Aye, that is true. How is Lenikov faring?'

'He's bad. His soul wanders the Wastes, or so the Chaplains say. He refuses to talk to anyone. He is actually seeking death.'

'And his new squad?'

'He may not lead them.' Riktovi lead the way out of the chapel, and into the bright Anguran sun. He gazed at the cluster of wooden buildings around him. 'I don't know, Vissar. I fear for him.'

'The Emperor will watch over him, brother, as will we. Chaplain Igarka has gone to find him.'

'I'm not sure Lenikov has faith in the Emperor anymore. What makes you think Igarka will change that?'

Ordnatev shook his head. 'Nikolai, you forget. Chaplain Igarka is like a father to Brother Lenikov. He was the one to bring Lenikov into the Arctic Wolves.'

Riktovi watched the clouds slowly move across the sky. He listened to the crunch of snow underfoot as civilians walked by. Eventually he said, 'Aye, that is true.'

The Thunderhawk flew over an endless expanse of ice. Snow blew across the frozen ocean with the wind. Angura's sun reflected brightly off the pure, pristine field. This was the heart of Angura. A barren, windswept plain of ice and snow that nearly covered the entire planet. This was the Frozen Wastes, the ocean that once teemed with life in the ancient times. Chaplain Igarka gazed at the field, a faint smile touching his lips. His eyes rested on a single figure below them. He turned to the pilot. 'Set down here.'

'Aye, father.'

The Thunderhawk Gunship settled down lightly on the ice. Snow blew around it; the wind beat at its hull. Igarka stepped into freezing temperatures. He could barely make out the solitary figure walking away from him. He marched up to the Marine's side. 'You are a hard man to find, Brother Lenikov.'

The sergeant ignored him and kept walking. He scanned the horizon, eyes darting from distant mountain to distant mountain. Igarka followed his gaze and saw nothing. He shook his head. 'What are you doing, brother? Are you seeking death? Is that why you wander these Wastes alone?'

Lenikov glared at him. 'What does it matter to you?'

'What does it matter to me? Brother Lenikov, do you know the will of the Emperor? Do you know His plan? Can you see what He has ordained and what paths He has set forth for us all?' Lenikov said nothing, and Igarka continued. 'No, you don't. You don't know whether or not you are supposed to live, you don't know whether or not Brother Firen was supposed to live-'

Lenikov stepped closer to the chaplain and shouted. 'Leave Firen out of this! What do you know of loss? Sure, you know about losing friends. We all do. But have you had an honour brother? Do you know what that even means? No! I don't either, but I know it is a bond almost no Marine ever experiences. I know you will never experience it. I know you know nothing of the pain of losing a brother tied by this bond.'

'Then educate me, Kyr.'

Lenikov stared at him. He turned away from the chaplain, tears coming to his eyes. He gazed at the snow, picturing his brother's face. 'It cuts at you, like nothing you've ever experienced before. It tears you in half, ripping at your very soul. You lose all sense of who you are, you forget your purpose in life. You will never remember. I will never remember. Igarka, the Emperor is truly a god? He is the protector of Mankind?'

'Of course, Brother Lenikov. He led us into the stars and fought to protect us from our darkest selves. Even now, He defends us and leads us.'

'Then why did He let Firen die?'

'I do not know. I will never know. Maybe you should ask Him that, rather than ask why you lived. If you do not, then even you will never know. We mortals cannot ever hope to perceive His plan. However, we can know that He has a reason for everything He does, for every life He gives and takes.'

Lenikov gazed at the chaplain in confusion. Igarka gave him a small, kind smile. It spoke of centuries of pain and sadness. 'Come, Brother Lenikov, let us ask why your brother had to die. Maybe you will be answered.' Igarka knelt and began to pray. After a moment, Lenikov knelt beside him, and for the first time in weeks, spoke to his god.