Warm, russet mud spewed up as Yang landed hard. She spat out the copper tang, confused as to how mud had showed up on such a hot, dry battlefield. Until she realized how many corpses were piled up around her.
Huffing, she pulled herself to her feet, grabbing some of the closer guardsmen and stacking them atop one another. She worked quickly, and gave herself some reprieve behind her impromptu barricade. She checked herself, her head fuzzy from the explosion that had sent her launching. Her legs were both still there. That was a good start.
She seemed mostly fine, other than the searing pain in her back. A few cuts and bruises, but nowhere near the worst she had ever taken. She rummaged through the bodies she had stacked until she found a few las cartridges, grunting in satisfaction and stuffing them into the pouches of her belt. Yang checked to see if her lasgun was anywhere around. She sighed when she realized that it must have been blasted away when the grenade had gone off.
Just like Rodney to drop a live grenade when he got his head torn off.
The sadness was brushed aside. She had seen it a thousand times before. If she made it out of this hellhole, she would see it a thousand more times. The if of the situation is what bothered her.
She jerked up, taking a quick survey of the battle.
It was not going well.
The Orks had shattered the front line and broken through the barbed wire. Some of them still had bits of it sticking out of their skin, but it didn't slow them down at all as they raged towards the second trench. On the far edges of the line she could see areas where they had already begun pouring through and out, charging towards the third set of trenches. Yang was currently between the second and third trenches, having been blown out by her idiot of a squad mate.
She checked the distance between herself and the secured trenches. Maybe a hundred meters. The Orks were less than fifty away from her at this point. Orks were faster than people.
Cursing furiously, Yang snapped open her sidearm holster, withdrawing the laspistol and sliding one of her looted cartridges into it. She checked herself to see if she still had any grenades. One frag left.
She pulled it up and ripped the pin out with her teeth. She counted to three, then tossed it over her makeshift sandbags. Once it was gone, she grabbed the knife strapped to her chest and drew the four inch thick blade from its sheath. It gleamed, silver and unstained despite its years of use and abuse. She kissed it, and took a deep breath.
A moment later the blast of her grenade shook the battlefield, and Yang rounded, stood, and fired.
The las fire found its mark — it was hard to miss with that many of them around. In the few seconds it had taken her to toss the grenade, her fellow guardsmen had been entirely decimated. A few had tried to run, a few had been shot by commissars.
She loosed shot after shot, focusing on the Orks nearest her, but it was only a matter of time before she found herself sinking blasts into a Nob, attracted by the new challenger.
Yang tried to fire again, but got a measly wheeze from the gun. She tried to shove the damned thing back in its holster, but the Nob was on her.
It lowered its shoulder and slammed into her chest, and for the second time in minutes, Yang was launched backwards. The air shook out of her lungs and the Orks roared, giant metal teeth where natural tusks should have been. It had a cybernetic eye and square plates strapped all over its body. The other, smaller Orks started to make towards her, and it turned its fury on them, breaking ones spine and roaring the others back. It gave Yang enough time to get into a proper combat stance.
She held one arm up as a cross guard and the other low underneath, the knife in a reverse grip.
Who would win? A knife or a half-ton, rampaging beast?
No time for those thoughts.
It began its charge, and Yang watched it closely. She had a half dozen steps to get a feel for its cadence, and just before she was within reach she snapped into action. She planted her foot inside its guard and thrust as hard as she could. Her back burned with the fire of a dying star, her muscles screamed in agony, but she arrested the movement. Before the Nob had a moment to react, she unleashed the rest of her energy into its stomach, heaving the beast backwards and into its compatriots.
She bowled over a handful of the smaller Orks with its broken body, charging behind it and leaping. Yang's foot landed in one of their faces, bone crunching beneath the hard heel of her boot. As it slammed into the ground, she rolled out and began slashing.
Weaving and dodging, she let her knife sing through the air and severe arteries. Her strikes were tight and precise, but she could only hold them off for so long. One knocked her in the stomach and another swung a massive maul into the steel of her backplate. She felt the hardened metal snap as she was slammed into the ground.
Part of her wanted to lie there. Unmoving, the Orks would move on, and if she could avoid being trampled, she would live to see another day.
But the mark on her back burned, and called to the fury within her gut.
Shaking, she pressed her hands into the muck around her. Arms stained red, face covered in grime, limbs shaking, she stood, pulling her broken armor off of herself. Most of the Orks had moved off, but a few turned to her, their jaws popping open in stupid surprise. One made a weird grunting noise.
Huffing, Yang bent over and pulled her knife from where it had fallen. With the icy calm of rage, she wiped it off on the newly exposed material of her undershirt, staining the yellow forever.
"Well?" Her voice was low. She could hardly get the breath for the end of the sentence. "Come and have a go, snot ball."
It screamed. It charged. She ducked, pivoted under its first swing, and smashed her elbow into its ribs, sending it flying twenty feet to the side. The rest of the Orks looked at her warily, trying to decide if this lone warrior was worth the trouble, or if the real battle was in taking the trenches that spanned for kilometres to either side.
Before any of them could move, the air screamed and the earth shook as something heavy slammed into the ground. Yang stumbled, looked behind her. There was a hexagonal metal pod behind her, and a loud hiss preceded the fall of six doors that slammed into the ground. Before the dust settled, monstrous shadows were blasting forth cleansing bolster fire. The green tide that had been looming began to melt as a dozen space marines in black armor charged forward. One unleashed a torrent of fire, and Yang rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid the blossom of promethium. A moment later the Astartes thundered past her, easily eight feet tall and barreling into the Orks.
Three more drop pods slammed in beside the others, unleashing dozens of the Emperor's angels of death. They charged into the fray after their brethren. One gave her a sparing look as it charged. "Move soldier," It's voice was distorted by the helmet. "The Emperor demands your service this day."
As they arrived in Segmentum Obscura, they had found a massive fleet of Ork ships. Three occupied world had already fallen, and the fourth, Haloss, was heavily besieged. Their small ship could do little to quell the tide of Ork cruisers, but Ozpin had told her that there was something important to be found on Haloss, so she and her Deathwatch had come.
She was relieved that the guard had no broken before they made planetfall. The presence of a few Space Marines was often enough to bolster a resistance, and the forty she had recruited would do well to offer resistance. Of course, when fighting Orks, such measures often backfired. She only hoped that the disorganization of their opponents would slow the word of the arrival of the Imperium's finest. It had been a risk to show themselves on the battlefield immediately, but the trenches surrounding the hive city of Gulong had been failing. She would need the planetary governor's resources if she were to locate the artifact that Ozpin had asked her to retrieve. It was a risk, but a calculated one.
"Brother Yatsu," Inquisitor Goodwitch addressed the burly marine. "You look troubled." Yatsu had previously been an Imperial Fist, and had not been keen to leave his chapter behind on Terra. He had always been quiet, but today his silence was long. He finished the emergency ration he had been chewing on for some time before answering.
"Inquisitor, there was a soldier standing alone against the enemy when we landed. Alone, surrounded by the corpses of both her comrades and the enemy. A Nob, even."
"A brave guardsman, then. Should we commend her to Commissar Low?" Low was the regiment's leader, a sleek faced young man. He was young for his position, but she assumed his rapid rise in rank was not due to any particular gifts of his. When war fell on a system, especially a war that turned so quickly against the Imperium, even the least distinguished often found themselves in positions of authority.
But Yatsu shook his head. "It is not my place to pass judgement, inquisitor, but this woman fought with us, side by side with my brothers, and flagged not once. She fought for hours. Even the hardiest of her peers would have fallen a dozen times. Several of my brothers have fallen today, inquisitor, their augmented genome could not save them from the green skins." Goodwitch was silent for a moment.
"You worry that perhaps the Orks are not the only enemy we will meet on this planet?" Yatsu did not answer. There was no need for him to.
If the artifact that Lord Inquisitor Ozpin had entrusted them to collect was indeed as powerful as he believed, it would make sense for the enemies of the imperium to seize the opportunity of war to find it. The ruinous powers were full of devilish tricks. Yet, in such matters, there could be no doubt.
"Brother Yatsu, while I agree such acts of heroism to be above the average human, I myself managed to escape the day unscathed."
"You have augmentations that would not be available to a lowly soldier, inquisitor. And a retinue of the Emperor's finest who would gladly lay down their lives to protect you. This soldier had no such augmentations, and no such guard."
Glynda pondered in silence for a moment, her appetite aptly ruined. She needed more information before proceeding. Her expertise was with the external threat of the Xeno, and not those deeds normally reserved for the Ordo Malleus.
"Finish your meal. I may have need of your service again before the day's end. Tell me, Yatsu, what did this soldier look like?"
"Commissar Low," The room's light's were dark, the concrete walls proof against any unwanted ears. It was a small chamber, used for the interrogation of dissident citizens before the war, she assumed. Devoid of any features, save for two chairs. "I would like to know which of your imperial guard have been found to deviate from the norm, as of late."
The Commissar bore a grimace, unbecoming of his handsome features. War had that effect, and interrogation by the Ordo Xenos would do little to alleviate the stress. "My guard are amongst the bravest in the imperium. The war has offered many the chance at heroism. Promotions would be abundant, should the war prove to cease." He answered guardedly. Goodwitch sighed.
"A man should be loyal to the Emperor first, and his men second. My word holds the authority of the God Emperor himself, and to question it would border on heresy, Commissar."
He choked, almost invisibly, but he raised his chin in proud defence before answering. "Millions of us have lost their lives in His service in the span of months. The loyalty of those under my command is unquestionable. Those who have faltered have been met with swift justice. I have been the executioner more times than my few years should have asked of me. We are in His service, in this time of war more so than ever. Should you deem loyalty to be heresy, then I shall not question your word, Inquisitor." And yet, you have just done so.
"In the stalwart defence of this world, I would be in agreement. Even as we landed on the battlefield today, there was a woman, a soldier of lowest rank, who stood shoulder to shoulder with my marines. Brother Yatsu spoke of her bravery, of her undiminished fury in the face of exhaustion and brutal warfare. She stood, when any of her peers would have fallen."
"The grace of the Emperor lends many to zeal that would have them stand against odds which would otherwise see them fall." The commissar answered curtly.
"It would seem so… though the Emperor protects, it is with the lives of great heroes. He seldom sees fit to bless individuals of such lowly status." She saw a spark of understanding within him.
"You think I would be so blind as to miss the curse of the Enemy within my own ranks?"
Glynda leaned forward, letting her shoulders slump. She softened her voice, playing at empathy where she had none. "Commissar, how many imperial guard do you have at your command?"
"Near a thousand strong, though their ranks would have been thinned considerably during the day's assault. I could not answer that question with any accuracy at this time."
"I am not questioning your vigilance, Commissar Low. The chaos of war takes a heavy toll, both on the ranks of the Emperor and on the minds of His servants. You have been burdened with authority beyond your years, and in the face of this incursion, missing a single soldier amongst the ranks of thousands is of no shame. Blinding yourself to such a possibility, however, is heresy."
The commissar was silent for a long time. "Even so, I do not know to what degree I might assist. I have done my best to familiarize myself with those under my command, and I could give you the names of every captain, but for individual soldiers… I have been of this position for no more than a month, inquisitor. I fear that I will be unable to identify this soldier."
"Such deeds of heroism do not go unnoticed, and besides, there are some traits that are uncommon amongst the population, even on the scale of whole worlds. Tell me, how many of those under your command have violet eyes?"
Yang Xiao Long sat alone, keenly aware of the vacancies around her. She was the only one of her squad to have survived the day. She had no appetite, but forced herself to swallow bread that tasted like chalk, and chew on the dry meat the chefs had cooked up. Mess had often been one of her least favourite times of the day. She had no idea how much worse it could be.
"Private Xiao Long?" Yang frowned, but stood and brought her arm up in a salute. She saw a woman striding towards her, adorned in a decorated cloak of gold and crimson, wearing armor of obsidian black. She had smooth features, barely beginning to crease with age. Her hair was in a tight bun, and Yang didn't miss the the telltale I in ornate gold centred on her breastplate. An inquisitor.
"My Lord," Yang finished the salute and stood at attention.
"At ease, soldier." The inquisitor said, taking the seat opposite Yang and laying down a meagre tray of food. Yang followed her lead, but didn't dare touch her food. They sat in silence for a moment, the inquisitor being sure to make a show of being casual. After some time, she noticed that Yang was not joining her, and gave up the charade.
"You were there, when my Deathwatch and I made planetfall, were you not?" The inquisitor asked, and Yang gave a curt nod. "Brother Yatsu spoke of your great deeds. He told me of how valorous you were in the face of overwhelming odds. Deeds worthy of commendation."
The inquisitor returned to eating, and it was clear that Yang would have to say something. "A commendation which, I am sure, Commissar Low could have issued." Yang was wary, but wanted to be sure that the inquisitor knew that she was not fooled by this false show of comradery. The inquisitor smiled thinly.
"Not just a pretty face, then." She locked eyes with Yang, beads of emerald which betrayed a terrifying intellect.
And Yang felt a pressure on her mind, the telltale indication of a psychic attack. Immediately, Yang emptied her mind and begun to repeat a mantra of faith taught to her by her father. She focused on the words, citing them over and over, imaging them as letters of gothic script, hearing her father's voice. She left no room for spare thought, giving the inquisitor no purchase in her mind. The probe rescinded, and as Yang's eyes opened once more, she glared at the inquisitor with fury. The woman across from her betrayed no emotion, cool, calm, collected.
"What do you want?" Yang hissed, keeping her voice low. The inquisitor regarded her for a moment, her dark eyes searching Yang for something.
"Tell me, Xiao Long, why is it that there is no record of you in the imperial records?"
"It's a far flung system, which finds itself at war frequently. I'm sure that the registrar has more important concerns than tracking the birth of every individual on the planet."
"You attended no academies of education when you were young."
"My dad homeschooled my sister and I."
"In fact, there's no record of you existing until you joined the guard."
"Which would make me an obvious suspect were I an agent of the enemy. They corrupt what already exists, they infiltrate those of high rank. Tell me inquisitor, if I were an agent of the ruinous powers, why would I stay at this rank? Why would I not use my sorcerous powers to rise in ranks to command whole regimens?"
"If you were a loyal servant of the Emperor, why would you pass up the promotions that have been offered you? Perhaps to remain inconspicuous."
Yang looked at the seats to either side of her and the inquisitor. Empty, unmoved. Chairs tucked neatly in their places. "Look around you, inquisitor. A day ago, this table was full of my comrades. Brothers and sisters in arms. War takes a heavy toll itself. If I was in a position of authority, it would be my duty to quell dissidance. In our ranks, such measures are served with lasfire and sword. I…"
"The Emperor has no room for sympathies or weakness, Xiao Long."
Yang turned back to her food, tearing off a chunk of dry bread.
"You are irregular..." The inquisitor wouldn't allow her the respite.
"Thanks, my mom always told me I'm special."
"I cannot allow you to continue serving, but I am not yet certain if you are indeed an agent of Chaos. Such uncertainty does not befit an inquisitor, does it?"
"You're the expert."
"It seems to me, that a test is in order." Yang frowned, but the inquisitor remained passive as she spoke.
"Should I sharpen a pencil?"
"You should follow me."
The inquisitor stood without any further talk. Yang grabbed her bun and followed.
The sand pits were crowded, but all the guard present moved aside as the inquisitor approached. As they split, Yang saw that they had formed a ring around someone who was sat crossed legged, torso bare, on the opposite end as that they were approaching.
The figure was evidently masculine, large swathes of muscle rippling across his back with his breaths. He was as broad across as two men, and metal ringlets were embedded in his skin. Yang frowned as she was led into the circle and the gap closed behind her.
"What is this?" She murmured, mostly to herself.
"What are the sand pits for?" The inquisitor deadpanned.
"Sparring, training…"
"And its purpose remains the same."
"You want me to fight…" The man on the other side of the circle rose and turned. And he continued to rise. Until he was at least nine feet tall. He wore nothing but a loincloth, his legs thick as trunks underneath. His abs looked as if they were carved from stone, scars laced his body, and all over he was pockmarked with those ringlets of metal. To connect to the power armor he would normally wear. "A space marine?"
"If you are loyal, and were still capable of such feats as those we saw today, then it means you must be blessed by the God Emperor himself. It is… uncommon for a guardsman to be subject to his grace, but it seems the only explanation. Should you be victorious, it will prove that He is watching over you, protecting you. Such miracles have been observed in the ranks of the sororitas, and perhaps we are all witnessing the birth of one of His Saints."
Yang just blinked.
"His grace be with you, Yang Xiao Long." The inquisitor stepped back, into the ring of observers. "Disrobe, meet Brother Yatsu in single combat, and should you win, you will have proven your loyalty."
Yang turned, taking in the faces of everyone around her. Faces she had seen in the midst of battle, people she had stood shoulder to shoulder with. "I'm not getting naked before these dogs." She sneered, kneeling to undo her boots. "He gets a loincloth, I get my bra and briefs."
The inquisitor voiced no complaints. Once they were unlaced, Yang kicked her boots off and slid out of her shirt. Then her pants followed, leaving her almost entirely bare, everything aside from the midsection of her back covered by the thick bra that held her chest tight and her upper thighs.
The sand shifted beneath her feet as Yang walked to the middle of the ring. She barely came up to the marine's chest. She sighed, and lowered into her combat stance. She was going to die, she was sure.
No one beat a marine.
Before she could give it any more thought, Yatsu launched into action. He sprang the dozen feet between them in a single bound, arms extended to grasp her. She rolled under him as he tucked into his own, each rounding on each other. Adrenaline pumped into her limbs, making her skin tingle, and she snarled as she charged.
He launched a punch high, faster than any guardsman. She had expected it though, and had already ducked under, snapping a fist into the meat of his side.
It was like hitting a brick.
Before he could grab her, she slid behind him, springing into a roundhouse that connected with his temple. She barely nudged his neck to the side. Panic set in.
She launched herself backwards, turning it into a handspring to give her space. He turned to her, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. She supposed he did. Yang, on the other hand, had as long to live as it took him to get those meaty mitts on her.
He lumbered towards her, taking his time. Without breaking the circle, there wasn't much she could do to avoid him. She would have to stay inside his guard.
His first strike was lightning fast, swinging for her torso. She twisted into it and swung her fist into his chin, cranking his head back. It should have laid anyone out cold, but he took a half step back and sent another fist flying at her chest. Too close to dodge, Yang braced.
The fist cracked into her stomach, lifting her off her feet and sending her flying. She hit the sand hard, sending up a cloud of detritus. Before she could get to her knees, her grabbed her by the thigh and hauled her off to the other side of the ring. Her back flared as she hit the ground and rolled, digging her hand into the sand and sliding to a halt.
She could feel the energy coursing through her veins, feel the impacts he had left on her turn into fuel, feel the fire deep inside her stomach.
With a yell she surged forward, dashing at him, pumping her legs to gain momentum before leaping, pulling her fist back. She swung hard, slamming a fist into Yatsu in a flash. It sent him crashing into the sand. She backed off as he stood, leaving a crater in his wake.
It seemed he was holding back before.
When he closed this time, it was with a kick at her shin. She stepped over it as sand pelted thigh and dropped. Cracking her elbow against his femoral artery. She saw the muscle twitch as it deadened, but she underestimated the Space Marine's resilience. As she tried to rise, something slammed into her back and sent her crashing into his knee. Her nose cracked and her lip slip, and she found herself face first in the ground as blood trickled from her face. She instinctively curled up, but no more blows landed.
She got to one knee, blood boiling as she stood shakily. The blow should have made her fuzzy, deadened her senses, and left her barely able to stand. Instead, as she planted her feet and observed the man opposite her, her back burned and energy sang through her skin. She could feel it in each pulse.
Yang spat out blood, getting it as close to the inquisitor as she could.
The woman looked at her, a slight smirk on those thin lips. Expecting her to die.
Yang turned Yatsu again, but something about the inquisitor's eyes gave her pause.
No agent of the imperium can best the Angels of Death.
Red eyes and dark hair whispered in her ear.
None.
Yang closed her eyes, breathed deep.
She would not fight to her death this day.
The mark on her back went cold. Ice snaked through her veins as the energy in her died, replaced by the cold weariness of a day filled with bloodshed. The impact of every blow hit her at once, and she staggered as she moved towards the marine.
He came to meet her, and as his fist raised high and back, as his body coiled, there was nothing Yang could do but raise her arms in front of her pitifully. The fist flew towards her, met her arms and slowed none as her guard broke.
He connected with her temple, and the world went black.
Raven was sitting at the table. But that wasn't right. She hadn't been home in years. She had left Yang.
"Sit," Her mother said, in a somewhat commanding tone.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Yang spat, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.
"Saving your life, Yang."
"I can handle myself just fine, thanks. Got a gun and everything."
"Which will do you no good here… Yang, this isn't real." Raven turned to her, crimson eyes flickering in the light of the candle before her. The shadows stretched up around her, as if inviting her in. "You're dreaming."
"Great, then get the hell out so I can go frolick my merry way around my subconscious."
"We are not alone." Raven hadn't stopped watching her. She motioned to the chair across from her, which slid backwards and cocked to the side. Yang stayed standing.
"Yang, please." She lost some of her surety, and a flicker of fear crossed her brow. Yang had never seen her mom like that. Quietly, she took the seat.
"Right now, the inquisitor is invading your mind." Pain seared through Yang's mind and she doubled over, clutching her head, shrieking. A moment later it passed, though Yang felt like she had been dragged behind a horse. "She's attempting to penetrate deep into your mind. She's trying to find me."
Panic sung through her body at her mother's words. She looked up at Raven, their fear mutual. "She can't know…" Yang whispered.
"If she finds a single memory about the mark, if she finds a whisper of a thought of me, she will execute you before you can wake."
Yang's eyes darted around, but found nothing but shadow. "Then go, you can't be here. I need to get to dad." Her heart was racing, her pulse beating through every inch of her skin.
"We're safe for now. You are holding her at bay as we speak. You are strong Yang, you are the strongest human on this world. You can beat her."
"I can't control anything here. I can't stop her. I can't-"
"You can." Raven's voice was like a whip. "You can, and you will." She waved her hand over the table, and two drawings appeared. Not the data-pics she was used to seeing on the imperial slates, but the meticulously crafted portraits that Raven had taught her to create. Each would have taken hours to craft, but now they appeared with all the definition and vivid life of Ruby and Tai.
"These are your identity." Raven told her. "You fight to protect your sister. You learned everything you know from your father. Where did you grow up?"
"In a small farm, outside the city."
"Who are you?"
"Yang Xiao Long, daughter of Taiyang Xiao Long."
"Who is your mother?" Yang squeezed her eyes shut, obliterating the scarred memories of dark hair and red eyes from her mind.
Her mother had silver eyes, just like her sister.
"Summer Rose,"
"Good," Raven sighed. "Yang, when I go… You have to forget this part of you. You cannot rely on me for strength anymore. You know this."
"Mom-"
"I am not your mother." Raven snapped. Her voice was stern, her tone bitter.
Yang's jaw clenched. "Rav-"
"You do not know my name. I am no one. If you see me, I am a stranger. I am a whisper of a memory from long ago, a face you hardly remember. A person you do not know.
"You quelled the mark, in a moment of need, when it sang to you strongest. You have strength, Yang. As I always knew you did. You will survive this too."
Yang hunched over. Something was roiling deep in her gut, bubbling and churning. She closed her eyes, breathed deep. She felt the air sink into every part of her lungs, felt the way it snaked into her nostrils, felt her stomach shift as she let the breath out. Just like-
Taiyang had taught her.
When she raised her head, she was alone.
The squirming mess bawled in front of her as Yang reached into the tattered crate and hauled her sister out. "It's okay," She cooed, "You're okay." Ruby quieted some as Yang bobbed her up and down, slowly stroking her back with her free hand.
"Wha-" Summer rubbed her eyes as she stepped into the room. "Yang, you should be asleep." A ghost of a frown creased her brow.
"Ruby was crying." Yang said with a smile. "I have to be here for my baby sister, like you always say." Summer smiled.
"You're a good girl, but you're a growing girl. Go on, get your rest. Ruby's probably just hungry."
Yang gently walked over to Summer, and the older woman - her mother, bent down to scoop the child out of her arms.
"Taiyang Xiao Long?"
"Where is mommy-"
"We regret to-"
"It's okay Ruby-"
"Take care of your sister Yang-"
A sad smile.
"Girls, I… Your mom-"
A tear on a face held together with threads.
"I made you two some cookies with extra chocolate chips! Don't tell your father-"
"Dad?"
"I'll be home soon-"
A warm hand on her shoulder.
"Summer, you can't go again, I don't care what they-"
"Did you hear that?"
A small girl, peeking from the doorway.
"Take care of Ruby-"
A shadow watched from the dark.
"Where's mommy?"
There was no body for the funeral.
There was just a casket, with no corpse.
"Why did you go?"
A tearstained child tugged at her dress, in her own black robes. Too young to see this. Why had she-
"Why did you go?"
And someone else, deep in the shadows, watching. But as Yang turned, the shadow vanished. Then so too did the cathedral.
The meadow was green, the charcoal in her hand seemed to move of its own accord. She was drawing again.
It was an angel, with grey eyes.
Something rustled to the side.
And then it was gone.
"Someone must serve-"
"She's a child-"
"Yang? Where are you going?"
"She's old enough-"
"Don't leave me Yang-"
"It's okay Ruby, you'll be okay."
"Hush now,"
"Don't leave me-"
"-Not like mom."
Sweat and blood on the ground. She growled. He came at her again. He swung, he missed, she buried her knife in his neck.
"Why did you go Yang?"
"I told you I'd be back!"
"MOMMY!"
Screams in the dark.
A shadow watches.
She turns but never sees it.
And then another one is on her, and she has no knife.
"Don't go-"
I'll always come back Ruby.
She rolled, and brought her pistol around.
"She's not coming back is she?"
"I'll be back Ruby, I promise. I'll always be back."
Her legs burned. Her pack was heavy.
"Where did you learn to draw?"
"My… father taught me."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Yang, nice to meet you."
"I'm Thomas."
"Why are you here?"
"So she doesn't have to be."
His face buried in the mud, his blood crimson, washing away in rivulets as the rain pounded down.
No time to think.
No time to look.
At the still, pale face.
Another coffin with no corpse.
"Thomas!" She screamed.
He was gone.
Just like Summer.
"Don't go…"
It was winter.
The wind was cold on this planet.
Everything was frozen.
And a shadow fell on her, as she drew the face of a man she had hardly known.
"Where'd you learn to draw?"
She would never make the mistake again.
"I'm sorry Thomas, sorry I wasn't there."
"You said you would always be there…"
"... That you'd always come back."
"Dad… I'll go-"
"Yang? Are you leaving?"
"You can't. Not you, not you too."
"Only for a while, don't say goodbye."
She hated goodbyes.
"It's okay, you're okay."
A child howling in a crib.
"Take care of her dad."
"Not you too…"
"I love you sis,"
Soft strokes to calm the weeping.
"I'll miss you both."
Small circles on the child's back to ease the pain.
She cradled his face, pale as the snow around them. "Don't go."
Her eyes slammed open and her heart raced.
She railed against restraints.
They pinned her to her bed as the pressure on her mind receded. She howled.
"DON'T GO!"
And the world was still.
Still and white.
She was awake.
Her heart slowed. Her mind settled. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. She felt it flow into her lungs, slide through her nose.
Three more, and she realized where she was. She sank into the rough sheets of the infirmary.
The shadow was above her, in dark armor, with a golden emblem on the front.
"You had no right," Yang growled, low and dangerous.
"I have every right," The inquisitor's voice was a whisper. "To discern the mind of a traitor."
Yang turned to face the cold, green eyes. They looked glassy. Dead. Like so many she had seen. "Is that what I am? Then be done with it."
But the bolt pistol was holstered.
"You are no traitor."
Yang sighed, tried to relax, but she couldn't. She looked down at herself. There was still blood on her, still spatterings on what little clothes she still wore. But she still wore them. Her tension eased a degree.
"I offer you no apology." The inquisitor said. "You are a loyal servant of the Emperor. Your mind belongs to him, as does mine. And I think I understand how you did what you did."
Yang was silent. For a heartbeat. For a still breath. Then she spoke:
"So that was your game." She whispered. The inquisitor nodded. "If I bested Brother Yatsu, then it must mean I am imbued with the power of the Enemy. If I lose, then I will be knocked unconscious… made vulnerable. So you could force your way inside me… Inside the depths of my mind to find any trace of betrayal."
"My position allows me no mercy, Yang Xiao Long."
"... So what happens now?"
"At what age did you enlist?"
"I was twelve."
The inquisitor was silent for a moment. "Yatsu believed your faith in the Emperor must be strong. Else you would have fallen after the first blow. But you fought on. You stood against one of His Angels. A soul blessed with the strength of the great Primarchs. He was wrong. But love is what drives you, even if it is not for His glory.
"I was correct in one assessment of you, Xiao Long. You are not ordinary. You drew the blood of a Space Marine in single combat. You hold a singular strength of character, one I wish I could see more of in my order. I am fortunate to have met you."
A pit grew in Yang's stomach, so vsat and deep it seemed to swallow the world.
"And if I refuse?"
"None refuse the Emperor's will, of which I am an agent."
Yang closed her eyes. Held back the tears.
"Rest now, Yang Xiao long. I will have need of you very soon. The nanobots will do their work and repair any damage you have suffered. You will be on your feet by morning."
Don't go…
The inquisitor leaned over and undid the straps holding down her arms and legs. Yang immediately made to stand, fighting off a wave of dizziness. An orderly rushed over, no doubt to tell her to lie down, but Yang waved her off. The inquisitor did nothing.
She stood, grasping the bed for support, and nausea swamped her. But she breathed deep, fought it down, and straightened.
"I'll need to pack."
She looked in the mirror, and the cut in her lip that had already closed. She met amethyst eyes that had seen more than her years would have asked. Normally, one could not enlist until sixteen.
War was not so kind as to allow such luxuries.
She turned, and took off her undergarments, feeling along her shoulder blade. It was as scarred as the rest of her body. She traced it slowly to the point between her shoulder blade, where she felt a distinctive bulge. A scar heavier than the rest, larger than the rest. One that would never heal.
It was in the shape of an x, with lines flaring out from the top, a bar through the middle, and one joining the bottom corners of the emblem.
She turned to look at in the mirror, large swathes of her skin peeled away forever. She turned to look at the mark that had given her so much, and nearly taken everything from her.
The mark of Khorne.
A/n:
New story, new universe.
Thanks for taking the time to read. Hope you enjoyed. This story will be entered around the adventures of team RWBY, sort of. Yang will be the main character, but each will have a time to shine.
Any comments, critiques, or thoughts are appreciated.
Cheers,
Unjax