Author's Note: I apologize that the new "Pathfinder"-chapter takes so long, but I've been learning for my exams this August and September for over a month now, I'm doing job applications and more aside from the usual schedule. So I'm a little stressed out at the moment and can only write occasionally. Therefore I will publish and update this new story(biweekly) until sometime in October, as it only has six chapters and is pretty much done; I only need to edit it. I promise to get "Pathfinder" out as soon as possible, but with my exams I just can't say when. Hope you enjoy the story and please keep your fingers crossed ;)

Fox & Raven

Chapter I

The wind was fresh and cool, carrying snowflakes from the trees and tossing them back into the air. Winter had come early, mountaintops were hidden behind clouds, but it was still comparatively warm in the valleys and so the ground was clear, while only the plants were covered by a thin, white layer.

The cold didn't bother the eldar, her armour and cameleoline cloak protecting her from the conditions. She looked about, verifying that the area was deserted, before it flashed two times behind her. The Pathfinder turned around to her fellow Outcasts, who had just emerged from the webway, two Rangers, who already had some experience.

Gently she placed a hand on a great beast at her side, a dragonhound, larger than the big cats humans knew and covered with leathery scales. Its long and narrow head looked like that of a dragon, two small horns growing above his eyes and more grew like a crest along the back of its skull. A slightly longer pair of almost straight horns grew horizontally from its temples and there was a horn growing from each elbow of its front legs as well as the heels of the hind legs.

From the middle of the skull, along its spine to its hip emerged about half a dozen bone-spikes, the longest at the neck, leathery skin connecting them all, creating a sail-like structure. A similar one was around the last third of its powerful tail, though shaped more like a leave. The skin was of warm earthy tones, mostly in shades of orange and brown, while stomach and throat remained white. Another noticeable feature were the black stripes along its body and limbs random in shape and length.

No words were exchanged among the eldar; what they had needed to discuss had been addressed on their way to this world and the three Outcasts vanished into the forest without a sound, the cloaks merging them with their surroundings perfectly. The Pathfinder was leading them east and against the wind.

Even from miles away they could hear the sounds of battle.

Tanks were roaring furiously, while crude bolters snarled fiercely and stone shattered far in the distance. She didn't need to see any of this; her years of experience told her enough to recognize and distinguish between the different units. She had heard these thing countless times before and the sounds accompanied them the entire way.

The eldar moved swiftly through the woods, many trees already stripped of their leaves, while conifers casted long shadows. The noises meanwhile grew louder and louder, as they approached the battlefield, an hour passing before they first set eyes on the humans. And the devastation.

The three eldar and the dragonhound stopped at the edge of a cliff and looked down into a deeper vale, where hundreds of meters below and still a couple of kilometres away a town had once been built at a river. The mountains surrounded the area at all sides, the peaks already white, though the vale itself had certainly still been green. At least before the battle.

While patches of vegetation remained, the area was now a battlefield, the fighting having turned fields and forest into marshland and once proud trees were now bend and broken like burned matches. It was a sad sight to behold. The town itself was only a ruin and the fighting would certainly leave hardly a stone in the end, for the conflict was still ongoing.

Ongoing, but nearing its conclusion. The Pathfinder looked through the scope of her rifle, having lain down on the cool stone of the cliff, the Rangers following her example. Quickly she scanned the settlement, immediately spotting Lossainnes, Space Marines, in crimson armour advancing further through the streets, their tanks levelling the pitiful remains of primitive buildings unfortunate enough to be in their way.

There were bodies too, mostly normal humans, but also Marines in black and crimson armour, the eight-pointed star often displayed upon their chests and pauldrons. The eldar couldn't deny a certain feeling of satisfaction, seeing those Mon'Keigh beaten and torn apart. Like all of her kin, she despised the Ruinous Powers with a passion. Naturally there were also those under the Raven banner, but their losses seemed low in comparison, at least according to what she saw during her swift scan.

It was then that one of the Rangers addressed her. "Drasann." Warrior of shadows. Shadow warrior. Yaidev had earned many nicknames in her centuries as an Outcast and this was one of the more common ones. "The Lossainnes have almost defeated the fallen ones. Only a single area still restists."

The Pathfinder nodded, her gaze moving further. Apparently the fighting was concentrated in a few blocks in the northernmost part of town. Heavy fire was already turning the crude stone buildings to dust. It wouldn't be long before the final assault began. "So it would seem, but we do not know if the one we seek is among them." They needed to locate him swiftly, before the Lossainnes got their hands on it; otherwise this mission would become much more complicated. "We must soon press onwards. Do not engage the Blood Ravens; our strife is not with them. And given how few we are, we cannot allow them to interfere with our task."

The female Ranger, known as Melinoe frowned, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "They have rightfully earned our ire. We should take this opportunity to thin their weakened ranks further. Their officers are easy enough to identify and in their arrogance many of them decline to cover their heads."

Feluhiem placed a hand on the side of his weapon. "Even their helmets would not protect them; the visors remain brittle and cannot withstand a Long Rifle."

"Enough of this." Yaidev interrupted her fellow Outcast sharply. "Our mission is too important to risk because of your desire for vengeance. And while I have no love for them, we should concede that our kin has given this chapter more than enough reasons to despise us in the past years."

"They should not have interfered in Ulthwé's plans."

The Pathfinder knew that this Ranger was still young and the passion of her craftworld was burning strong within her spirit. But Yaidev knew the dangers of such zeal and the short-sightedness annoyed her. "Tell me Melinoe: if the Lossainnes had come to Biel-Tan, luring in orks and tyranids to save their home, would you have assisted them or laid down your weapons?"

Judging by the brief widening of her violet eyes, the Ranger seemed confused and appalled. "Of course not." Yes, the thought was unimaginable.

Yaidev gave her a stern and meaningful look, her voice cool. "Then do not condemn them for having fought us on what they consider their homeworlds and focus on our task at hand." She reminded the former Biel-Tani. "As I've said; this is neither the time nor the place retribution."

Feluhiem, who had been quiet during their exchange nodded and seemed to hold no objections, his voice even and calm as he replied. "As you command, Drasann."

There were a few moments of silence, but Melinoe apparently still had something on her mind. "You're right." She conceded at first. "But the loss of the craftworld was unacceptable and our success could have prevented the spread of Chaos as well. If they had heeded our warnings..."

Yaidev sighed and lifted a hand, Melinoe stopping when she saw the gesture; even if she didn't agree with the elder Outcast, as a Pathfinder Yaidev was greatly respected and most Rangers knew better than to ignore the lectures of veterans like her. "Yes, but we should know better. We should know by now that the humans do not trust us, neither our words nor deeds. We would be fouls to believe that they would simply go along with our plans or do as we suggest."

The younger eldar considered this and when she spoke again there was none of the former aggressiveness. "Even when it benefits them as well?"

Pleased that Melinoe seemed to heed her words, Yaidev continued, though her gaze returned to the town; they were still looking for something after all. "They perceive the universe very differently from us. Their cultures are so unlike ours, born in fear, blood and fire. And naturally they do not share some of our worst fears. Besides, you mustn't forget that they cannot see how interwoven our actions truly are, or what they will ultimately result in. They only ever get a glimpse of a picture that is even too large for most of us to see. Always keep this in mind when dealing with them."

"So, whereto are we headed? I've seen no trace of the possessed." Feluhiem was right; the one they sought should stand out among the fallen. With the power it wielded it would be anything but subtle in a fight, but there weren't any signs of any psychic activities.

"Perhaps it as already left the battlefield." Melinoe suggested. "With its allies nearly defeated there are not many places it can run to. It will certainly try to leave this world."

"A ship?"

The former Biel-Tani, shrugged. "Possible, but with the Lossainnes in orbit it wouldn't be without considerable risks."

Yaidev's dark eyes narrowed. "Let us track it first; the direction may betray its intentions sooner than our musings." She rose to her feet and stepped back into the forest, seeking the shadows to cover her, the dragonhound ever following her. "My training on the Path of the Seer may be of help to us. Fear not; this will not take much time."

Having found a suitable spot beneath a large tree with low hanging branches, Yaidev sat down and opened one of the pouches at her belt. She pulled out a handful of runes, most designed to shield her mind, another to help her reach out. As she closed her eyes to focus, she could still hear her fellow Outcasts whisper.

"Is it not dangerous to use ones psychic potential in this manner, when one does not walk the Path?" Melinoe asked with a hint of worry lingering in her voice.

Feluhiem responded in the same hushed tone, though he didn't seem particularly concerned. "It is, but I've heard she received training by a Shadowseer, allowing her to use her abilities to some extent, despite having left the Paths. If rumours are true it is one of the reason she's often task with hunting followers of the Dark Gods."

"I thought her abilities would make her more vulnerable?"

"Not if part of her training included the strengthening of her psychic defences. In any case I've seen her use her force weapon against daemons before; her abilities have proven most effective."

This was true; Feluhiem had accompanied her once before, when they had retrieved Spirit Stones from a vile cult and he had seen her slay daemons with the very weapon she had once received during her time as a Seer. The wraithbone blade now rested peacefully at her hip, sleeping until the next battle. In her thoughts she briefly thanked Shadowseer Gwythyr for his guidance, before she reached out with her mind, leaving her body behind.

The world she entered felt very different from the physical plain. She didn't truly see nor hear, but she felt. She felt Feluhiem and Melinoe, their presents warm and welcoming, and Kurnous whose presence was not as strong, but very familiar, displaying the affection her loyal companion had developed ever since she'd received him as a whelp.

Her mind reached further, ignoring the faint lights of the native fauna around her, flitting over the ruined fields, to the shattered stones and smoking ruins. The humans naturally had a weaker presence than her kin, but she could sense them nonetheless. She felt a surprising turmoil of emotions, chief among them hate and anger, but there was also pain. Others were clam and surprisingly collected given that they had days of battle behind them, though if the eldar was not mistaken there was a sorrow underlining the collective emotional landscape.

Were they mourning for their chapter? The lives lost to Chaos and the past decades' slaughter? Regret for not having seen the darkness within sooner?

While Yaidev had not participated in what the humans called the Aurelia Crusades, friends and former comrades of hers had, some of which had perished. And of course she knew of the battle that had rages within the Blood Raven chapter itself. In a way, it was the reason she was here.

Her soul shivered. The twisted Space Marines fighting here were former Blood Ravens and the taint of Chaos was heavy upon the town. It was like touching a fire, but it was cold, as if her mind was getting freezer burn. Yaidev knew that the runes surrounding her physical body had to be glowing up by know, the wards trying to lessen the effect.

She was on the right track. The strength of the daemonic presence was not the result of mere worship or even tainted artefacts. No, a beast of Chaos had been here in the flesh, something large. But there was the touch of mortality about it. The possessed she sought? In any case it was so heavy that it almost completely supressed another signature, something purer, something it apparently carried with it. Yes, this was their target, beyond doubt.

Very carefully she tried to isolate the pattern, letting herself focus on the strongest taint within the area, despite her rebelling instincts. What she sensed was almost like a spiritual trail of blood drops. Wherever the beast had been, the very fabric of reality had been wounded and while it was healing, marks yet remained.

Yaidev followed, until she had her direction, but she didn't dare venture further.

Quickly she pulled her mind away again, building up every mental shield she'd weakened for the purpose of her search. Soon she felt her body again, strangely unfamiliar and restrictive for a moment, but also save, like an armour of flesh and blood.

She took a few deep breaths, feeling herself warming up and the feeling of vulnerability lessening with each moment. Finally the Pathfinder opened her eyes again.

Her fellow Outcasts still seemed worried, while Kurnous' back sail was up, rustling like a rattlesnake's tail. Yaidev looked about and saw that the area around her was now frozen, a layer of ice covering the ground and the bark of the tree behind her. Only the runes remained untouched and were slowly losing their blue glow.

"I am well." She assured them, picking up the runes one by one and wiping cool sweat from her forehead. "And I have found a promising trail."

"We grew worried, when the ice started growing." Feluhiem confessed.

Yaidev nodded. "Its presence was strong, though this works in our favour. It was clearly heading deeper into the mountains to the north." She rose to her feet and shouldered her Long Rifle. "We should head there without delay, before the trail runs cold, or the weather can hinder our efforts." The two Rangers merely nodded and the small group got moving again.

They headed down into the valley, but kept away from the town, moving around it and the human forces. They crossed a cold river in forest, the smell of burning flesh, ash and corruption ever growing stronger. Fortunately they met no human on their way, though at a few noises they stopped and hid in the shadows. Thankfully however, their journey was without incident.

The eldar ascended into the mountains again at the other side of the vale, the deciduous trees getting more and more superseded by ever green conifers. The wind was getting colder as well and snow started falling by the time they had reached the mountains north of the town.

For a while they searched for any clues about their prey whereabouts, but at first they found nothing of use. There were footprints of Space Marines, warmachines, but they all had been heading towards the town. Certainly these had been left before the battle. Perhaps she needed to use her powers again.

"This scent…" Melinoe began after some time.

"The stench of Chaos." Yaidev merely noted; even the thick cloth covering her nose and mouth couldn't keep it at bay. Usually the pungent smell would be enough to pursue their prey, but given the number of Chaos worshippers, who had come this way, there was no way to single out the daemon. Likely it had moved further north.

"Drasann." Feluhiem suddenly called out, using their wraithbone earpieces. "I have found tracks."

Yaidev and Melinoe, Kurnous right behind him, quickly joined the Ranger, who had been searching about a kilometre west of them. They found him at what seemed to be a small path in the shadows of the trees, the ground more even here and with no vegetation. Next to Feluhiem on the ground were indeed foot prints, which looked a little as if they had been burned into the ground, the earth almost black around them, with little snow.

Yaidev kneeled down to examine them more closely, the fool stench stronger here. "The foot size of a Lossainn." She concluded. "And he had talons, powerful ones judging from the depth of these marks." Yes, this had to be the daemon they'd been looking for, the possessed. Her skin even shivered at the close proximity.

"The snow has not yet covered them. It must have come this way only recently." Melinoe pointed out and looked north, to where the trail was leading.

The other Ranger nodded. "And I have found no tracks leading back to the town." Feluhiem added. "But there are a few marks on the stone further up the path."

Closing her eyes, Yaidev let her mind gaze into the wilderness ahead, but other than before kept her guard up and within her physical form. "I can sense something. Very vague; it escapes my grasp like fog." It was likely masking its presence.

"We shouldn't delay. It already has too great a head start." The Biel-Tani noted, suddenly seeming tense. Yaidev couldn't blame her; facing a daemon was always a troubling prospect, no matter one's experience. Even the Pathfinder felt a familiar nervousness, though for her the sensation was no doubt weaker.

"Agreed." The Pathfinder let her dragonhound sniff at the print and the plants the beast had touched on its way through. Her pet growled threateningly at the scent, its own instincts warning it of the danger. Eventually the animal took the lead and the eldar set out north, ever higher into the mountains, while the sun wandered steadily down towards the horizon.

Smoke was rising to the cloudy sky, the cool wind carrying the scent of burned flesh and death. Debris cracked beneath brother Myron's heavy boots as he walked through his designated street of the ruined town, searching for survivors. The few he found among the traitors he finished with a precise hellfire round, his eyes narrowed with disgust behind his expressionless helmet.

How could so many of the Blood Ravens have fallen?

The idea of turning against his chapter and the Emperor was near incomprehensible to the young Space Marine. Having served under Captain, now Chapter Master Angelos ever since the completion of his training as a scout, his faith was strong, as much truth to him as the fact that planets orbited suns.

What could daemons offer other than lies? They aimed to destroy the Imperium, the Emperor's work and yet so many had come to bow to dark gods and other false idols. It was disgusting. Pathetic.

They were Space Marines, chosen to protect the Imperium and the Emperor's people. To cast that aside would be to relinquish one's very purpose, exchanging it for meaninglessness. For what? Bloodshed, destruction and conquest? War was his duty, but for a cause far greater than him. Without that it would be hollow. Myron could not see the temptation in that.

Reaching the end of the road he suddenly heard a bolter nearby and turned around the next corner, seeing his Sergeant, who had taken a parallel street, dispose another heretic.

The helmetless Marine looked up. "Brother Myron; I take it you have completed your task?"

The younger Marine nodded. "The street and buildings have been cleared, brother Sergeant."

"Very well." He reloaded his bolter and briefly looked down at one of the black armoured Marines again. "I've just received word that we'll be pulling out this town. The Captain wishes to clean this place from orbit."

"With holy fire."

Sergeant Arsaces nodded and started walking down another road leading to the centre, where the squad was supposed to regroup and Myron followed, the two Marines walking side by side. "Indeed. However we're going to stay here on Nemus for the time being and make sure that no traitor remains on this world or manages to flee. And it allows Sergeant Cyrus to complete his task."

"Task, Sergeant?" The Scout Sergeant was known to receive unusual missions from time to time and if rumours were to be believed, had found himself fighting alongside the Inquisition and according to some more designated ones, even Assassins of the Officio. Since Myron had been recruited only a short time before the Tyranid invasion, just after Kaurava, he couldn't say how much was true, though from what he'd seen of his former teacher, he could believe most of it. The time spent with the Deathwatch at least was well known and added to the Scout's infamous reputation, though his students tended to be absolutely loyal to him, as well as devoted.

Myron himself had been one of them and while Cyrus had clearly been a demanding, the young Marine had never considered him an impatient teacher, but rather objective and fair-minded. Still, the Sergeant rarely gave praise and so it was said among Scouts that a nod of approval was worth more than several commendations from the Chapter itself. Given what had happened in the past decade that was likely true.

Since Cyrus was also the oldest still living Scout Sergeant and the most experienced, some initiates had taken up to refer to him as their chapter's Master of Recruits, though never in his presence. The title had once been used in the chapter, but after the last had perished in battle, the previous Chapter Master Kyras had never chosen another. Some had attributed this to the differences between him and Cyrus, while others had deemed the Scout Sergeant unsuitable due to his tactics and…outspokenness. In any case, Cyrus cared nothing for titles; he was aware of his skills, duties and responsibilities, no matter what others called him, and he knew of the influence he wielded, now that almost every initiate was trained by him, or someone he had trained.

Meanwhile Sergeant Arsaces sighed. "Apparently one of the traitors escaped during the battle, taking with it a powerful artefact. Cyrus volunteered to hunt him down and retrieve it. I'm not exactly surprised."

"Sir?"

The elder Marine stopped and pointed at a dead traitor without a helmet, his face disfigured by an eight-pointed star. "See that one; I remember him from a little over a decade ago, one of Sergeant Cyrus' initiates. Becomes an Assault Marine while Cyrus is with Captain Angelos following the second Crusade and turns to Chaos." He looked around with a darkened expression until he could identify another body. "This other was abducted as an initiate during a battle in the second Crusade. Next time we see him, he's a puppet for the Dark Gods. I suspect there is a story like this for most traitors here. Cyrus has been a Scout Sergeant for so long that he's trained the majority of Blood Ravens by now, including ourselves. Most of those we've killed today he's known since their initiation into the chapter." He shook his head with a saddened look in his eyes. "So I suppose in a way, he has more reason to be here than most of us."

The thought was troubling. Myron didn't know most of those he'd killed in battle this day. They were merely traitors, which made the slaying of his former brothers rather simple. Satisfying even.

But he knew just how protective the Scout Sergeant could be. He'd heard how his old teacher had lost his temper upon the abduction of his students, a rarity to be sure. He was devoted to his initiates, like a stern but well-meaning father. This treason had to be especially cruel to him, to be betrayed by the men he had helped foster from adolescence and turn into battle-brothers.

The two Marines got walking again, this time remaining silent, both in thought. Occasionally they heard bolters, single shots, or tanks that crushed stone as the manoeuvred through the ruins. Something cracked beneath his boots and Myron looked down at the remnants of a horned helmet. Even this inanimate object seem to mock them with fiery lenses. Sergeant Arsaces had stopped and looked briefly at the helmet as well, before he turned to his brother.

"Come; it's time we leave this cursed town."

Slowly Myron nodded. "Brother Sergeant, who is he hunting?"

His Sergeant's eyes narrowed, his expression marked by hatred. "Apparently the one responsible for the slaughter of Scout Sergeant Amyntas' squad. And if the late Sergeant's last communication was true, also some harrowing ritual in the northern district of the city, for which he used some of our brothers." Arsaces clutched his bolter. "We don't know if the heretic accomplished what he'd attempted, but the site will soon burn with the rest of this town. Myron, pray that this is the last of treachery within our chapter. After this world has been cleansed we will have dealt with the last of our fallen."

Side Note: Part of Myron's depiction of Cyrus is inspired by loading screens and weapon descriptions in Dawn of War II, like this:

"Only the dreaded assassins of the Vindicare Temple wield Exitus Rifles. However, a veteran Scout Sergeant of the Blood Ravens found himself fighting alongside one of these deathdealers at the height of the Walsh Uprising. One year later, this modified Astartes Sniper Rifle appeared among his gear."

and

"…Cyrus is a demanding Sergeant, but he is also patient and fair-minded, and these traits inspire fanatical devotion from his initiates. Among Blood Raven Scouts, a simple nod of approval from Cyrus is said to mean more than a dozen commendations from the chapter."