Garrowa, a highly mountainous world in Ultima Segmentum, is the home of the Angels of the Black Blade Chapter of Adeptus Astartes.

Since the second founding, when they were created from the hallowed Blood Angels, the Angels of the Black Blade have lived on Garrowa, adopting it as their homeworld and recruiting ground. The hardy hillfolk there proved a good source of recruits.

With the Angels came a new age for Garrowa, with cities and fortresses being built. Over the millennia, a PDF was formed to protect the world whenever the Angels were fighting for the Emperor. This evolved into almost 80 regiments of armour and infantry, half of which would come to form the Garrowan Infantry, regiments of Guardsmen who followed the Angels into battle. Trained by the Neophytes of the 10th Company, and equipped by chapter Artificers, these units could be compared with the vaunted Storm Troopers of the Schola Progenium.

This would come to cause problems with the Ecclesiarchy and Munitorum, but the forces of Garrowa have never shown anything but loyalty to this day, staving off their ill intentions. Fighting with their Lords, or under their own command as part of the great Imperial Crusades, the forces of the Mountain world have earned enemies and friends alike.

Many regiments have become famous within the circles of the Imperial Guard as tough and loyal soldiers. They may not have the stealth skills of the Tanith, the Jungle warfare knowledge of the Catachans or the numbers of the Death Korp of Krieg, but the forces of Garrowa have steely determination and courage like no others as they fight for their Astartes Lords. They are solid fighters who will stand to the last.

This tale takes up the story of one regiment, the 'Fighting' 5th Heavy Infantry, and one of their toughest battles since winning their laurels on Icthia….

Prologue

Thirteen Hundred Years Earlier…

Dark orbs opened in foreboding eye sockets. They were etched with pain and distress. The pale, almost perfect skin around the eyes was taught with strain as consciousness returned.

The figure lay before a wraithbone throne, etched runes and spirit stones arrayed around it in concentric patterns. It was obvious who this figure was.

Farseer!

The figure slowly rose to its knees, and its form became apparent. Wrapped in timeless Rune armour, the Farseer was still obviously a male of the Eldar species. Unsteadily, he came to his feet, and staggered to his throne. Long, supple fingers grasped the armrests tightly for support. The Farseer's chest heaved with the effort.

The runes around his feet pulsed weakly; some still glowed with heat, others were cool to the touch now. Around him, Spirit Stones rattled in their attempts to ascertain his state of welfare.

The Farseer was Maechu, of Ulthŵe, second only to Eldrad Ulthran in wisdom and knowledge. Maechu wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he struggle to regain control of his emotions. His head was spinning, his humours put badly out of place by his experiences.

For Maechu had wandered the skeins of the future, trying to discern something of the fate of his people. He saw the rise and fall of empires. He had seen the Doom of the universe.

Everywhere, life would be destroyed or reduced to mindless husks. The Mon-keigh of the Imperium would be but chaff before the fate to come, She-that-thirsts and its kin would have no real-space followers to give them power. All would perish, all would fall, and the numbers of the Children of Asuryan would number in the hundreds.

Maechu had seen the doom of the universe.

Legions would awake, planets and stars would die. The Harvest would come again, the soulforges fired up and nothing would stop it this time. The Outsider would come! The others were awake, or in the process of awakening, but if he joined them, then it was the end of all things.

But the future was not immutable.

He had seen hope.

And it lay with a mon-keigh! Maechu's hand clenched tighter to the throne, a brief swelling of anger overtaking him. How it should come to this! That the future of his species, and the fate of the Universe, would come to the actions of one small, insignificant being. And one who was not even yet alive! His birth was many centuries into the future.

Maechu knew that he had to keep this human safe, even before his existence came to be. For this mon-keigh held the safety of the Universe itself in his hand, and he must be allowed to live out his life.

The Farseer had seen the Doom of the Universe.

But he had seen Hope.