The Raven Guard moved slowly and silently. Despite the bulk of their armour, they moved without a sound, a trick engraved into their minds many years ago during the struggle for Deliverance and other wars. Ahead of the Primarch, the Veteran Sergeant moved his auspex around, his memories of his home-world and his former fortress-monastery returning to him full-fold. Corax watched his nephew silently, understanding how much of a toll this was taking on the former son of Adonnas. For over a century he had had to pretend to be something he was not, and although he had been loyal to his uncle and cousins, he would always be a Storm Rider in his heart.

He stopped as he heard a sound and raised his hand. Corax joined his side and glanced at the scanner on the sergeant's arm. There were marks ahead of them, about 10 meters. He read the runes and arched an eyebrow: it would seem that they were indeed in the company of shadows.

He made two gestures with his hands and his company moved into the shadows. Uneses readied his flamer and waited for his Primarch's signal. When it was given, he let loose a pillar of flame that entered the opening ahead. At first there was nothing, but then the scream was doubled as flesh-burning fire covered the two Shadow Warriors, who fell from their perch. Another gout of flame brought another two warriors down to their doom.

An anguished roar, and Uneses only brought his arm up in time to stave a blow from Acerbus Krieg, his twin axes whirling in unison. Behind him, his chosen flooded into the chamber. The Raven Guard were on the defensive as the Night Lords before them attacked their traitorous cousins.

Corax ignited the Raven's Talons and dragged them across a Night Lord in Terminator armour. When the Night Lord looked up in shock, he brought his storm bolter up and under the jaw, cracking through the helm and tearing the Terminator's jaw clean off.

Uneses managed to get some breathing room as Acerbus mistimed a swing and, raising his boot, he kicked the second company captain in the midriff and threw his flamer to one side. In a swift moment, he drew an axe that seemed out of place with the slick and shadowed style of the Raven Guard. Bright blue and silver sparks coursed off the blade, silver in color, as he activated the weapon and whispered a mantra to the spirit within. Etched along the blade were words in the old language of the Sturmgarten, and as Branne looked up, he stared as the giant axe cleaved the air between the sergeant and the deranged captain known as the Axemaster. Everything around the sergeant seemed to fade and be replaced by the cheering of the neophytes and scouts, as his memory played back the day he had faced the beloved First Captain in the training ring. Even though he remained focused on the enemy before him, his body seemed to work in unison with a memory long ago dead.

He moved like liquid silver, ducking under swings that, had it been anywhere or anyone else, might have taken his head off his shoulders. Muttering in his battle cant, Uneses ducked under one blow and brought the hilt of his axe up under the Night Lords jaw. The crack reverberated around the bloody room where Raven Guard and Night Lord still fought one another. Neither hesitated for even an instant in the battle, for the Night Lords fought for the glory of the Imperium, the Raven Guard for the death of their brothers of the 152nd and the betrayal of that Imperium's principles, and both for the dint of being the true masters of shadows. The war was a storm, if one no mortal eyes could cleanly see.

Yet the storm stopped with one word.

"ENOUGH!"

The voice boomed across the chamber, echoing around them and, despite everything, causing them all to stop fighting, Corax rose from two Astartes who he had killed. The bodies of the fabled Shadow Warriors lay burnt or cut in two, scattered around the area. Corax snarled beneath his blood-covered face as Curze walked into the room.

"Desecrating the place of the dead, brother? Shame on you," he taunted the Raven-Lord.

"Here for the demented father when he caused this? Shame on you, Night Haunter," Corax breathed.

His body trembled with rage, and not only the rage of interrupted combat. This man had once been a comrade in arms, but there had been no friendship and no bond between them except that of siblinghood, for both Primarchs had strived to prove that they were the real masters of the shadows. It had always ended as it began, no clear winner, equal on all sides.

"I come to fulfill the Emperor's wishes, as I always have, Corax. Come, let us talk in private."

"I doubt that you wish to talk, Curze." Corax narrowed his eyes.

They both turned as Krieg, angered at the intervention into his fight, ran at the Raven Guard Primarch. Uneses reacted swiftly: he span his axe and threw it. It seemed to slow time for the moment that the axe took to fly true to its target and cut the head off the Second Captain of the Night Lords. The body moved a little further before falling to the ground, while the head flew and landed at the feat of the First Captain of the Night Lords.

"Bloody idiot," Sevatar swore, but did nothing. He'd had no liking for Acerbus in life and he certainly did not mourn his loss. He leant on his trident and inclined his head at the sergeant: he deserved the respect for saving his Primarch's life, not that Corax had truly needed the saving. At the moment, the Lord of Nostramo wanted to talk, and Acerbus would have dishonoured his father. As it was, Curze picked the axe from the floor where it had landed and looked at the inscription. It was finely balanced and honed to a sharp edge: this had been made for the sergeant's hands only, and he deserved it. He walked to him and handed it back to him.

"Adonnas would have been proud of you, sergeant." He looked at Corax. "I want to talk, that is all; after that, what you do is up to you." He turned to Sevatar, "Make sure no one interferes."

"As you wish, my lord; shall I have Acerbus's body returned to the Nightfall?"

Curze shrugged, indicating that Sevatar could do as he wished, and the Primarch walked alongside his raven brother. It didn't stop the Night Lords and Raven Guard in the room from glaring at each other and the tension was permeated the air; but for the moment, violence was stayed.


The room that the two Primarchs walked into was wreathed in darkness. The smell of death clung to the walls, though there were no bodies here anymore, as they had all crumbled to dust long before. Still, the cloying sense of anger, indignation and vengeance screamed out to Corax, and he had to steady his mind and his soul against such overwhelming emotions. He could almost see the final hours as they were condemned to die, although for what he was not altogether certain of.

He glanced to his left. If being in the dark was supposed to unnerve him, then Curze was sorely mistaken. For as much as it wrapped the Lord of the Night in a second skin, the Raven Lord also wore the darkness like a comfortable coat. He could see Curze ahead of him; whether this was all orchestrated for his account or if, like so many other areas of the now-broken monastery, darkness was permanent, he did not know.

"You wanted to talk, so... talk." Corax folded his arms and leant against a wall, his eyes picking out his brother as perfectly as if it were daylight.

He could not believe the changes that had come over his brother. Oh, Curze had always been a little unstable; being able to see the future and possibly his own death could do that to a man, and had he not been so... insane in his beliefs, Corax might just have felt sorry for him. But Curze did not like pity, he abhorred it, and as much as it made his skin crawl being in the same room as the midnight-clad pale-skinned Primarch, who might have been Corax's twin had circumstances dictated differently, he was not going to dishonour his brother with such thoughts. He was a proud monster, but he was also his brother.

"Can you not feel it, Corvus?" Curze asked, his voice as quiet as the grave he seemed permanently at home with.

"Feel what?"

"The anger, the rage, the desolation at the injustice of it all."

The Night Haunter walked around the darkened room, though Corax saw him as clear as if they were in daylight. The Primarch of the Night Lords had his arms outstretched, drinking in the anger and the rage as well as the fear of the humans and those who had not yet become scouts. Their emotions, and especially their fears, were purely human, not yet dulled by becoming an Astarte.

"You are aware of why they were killed, butchered, aren't you?" the Night Haunter asked his brother.

"Like we all are," Corax kept his voice even, though it was with great difficulty. He had not expected to talk to Curze here, rather than fighting his brother; and as such, his patience for Curze's aggression was limited.

"You do not lie well, brother; none of us except Russ and Angron knew the truth. But I do. I now know what no one else knew."

"And you brought me in here to gloat about that!" Corax snarled. "Our demented father murdered his sons, like he had Malcador murdered, like he murdered Valdor!"

Curze turned, and his pale visage regarded his equally pale brother. Two Primarchs, brothers by genealogy, both raised in darkness, but one a hero, venerated by the people of the world he delivered, the other a despot, feared by the people of the world he kept under his heel.

"Tell me, Corvus." If Corax was surprised at the sound of his forename from Curze's lips, he hid it well. "What is it like to have a world revere you as their saviour? The man that freed them?"

"You know that is not entirely true. There are overlords who still want me dead," Corax stated, "and I suspect if someone gave them that opportunity to retake the power they lost, they would certainly take it."

"Humour me, brother; what does it feel like to be a master of the night who is not feared by those he saved?"

There was a slight change in tone of the Night Lord's voice. It was not as deep as it normally was, and for a moment, it was like Corax was listening to a tired man. The Raven-Lord did not lower his guard: he could not tell if this was a trick or if he was listening to the hidden side of the Night Haunter.

"I don't think about it like that," Corax finally said. "I treat them all as my family, they were my family for years. We are what our circumstances made us. Is this what you wanted to talk about?"

Curze sat down on the floor. "I tire of being the bogeyman sometimes. I have done everything that father wanted, but I know that he uses my ability for fear to his advantage. I walked in here and I saw Adonnas. I saw what was done to him: he offered to talk to the Wolf King, but Angron was still angry at what had happened to his family at Desh'ea, he wanted to prove he was a warrior."

"You are not telling me anything that I do not already know." Corax unfolded his arms. "If it is a fight you want, brother, then let us decide who is the master of the night, my Ravens or your Night Lords. Because you are not leaving here with Adonnas's sons' legacy, I swear that to you. I would rather it got buried then end up in the hands of you and your demented master."

"That is not what I called you here for!" Curze shouted. "This always happens with you and the others! You all think I am a mad serial killer who knows nothing more that murder and fear! I am trying to reach out to the one brother I thought might understand what it means to be a child of the night"

Corax arched an eyebrow and waited as the madness in his brothers eyes subsided. "It is an image you have cultivated, brother. Ask Vulkan or Dorn... they are both in league with the Emperor now."

"Vulkan? He is not what he used to be, the fires have him now. The Vulkan you knew is gone, the Salamanders you fought alongside are gone, they are... something more. And Dorn..." Curze waved his hand dismissively. "Dorn will always be Dorn, the Praetorian will always do as his father wishes."

"As will you."

"No! I was sent here, yes, but I am here to save Adonnas, to resurrect his sons in the image they were supposed to be, warriors of the Imperium, great Astartes. There is also the gene-seed of the Sons of Hades within those walls. The Emperor wanted them kept safe, now, now we know why. I envy you sometimes, Corax, you do not have the power to see the lines of the future. Every day I see my death, hear the words of death. So I do not fear it - why fear something that will come to get me eventually?"

Corax wasn't sure where this was going, for Curze was rambling, incoherent, one moment softer-spoken, the next darker, deeper-toned. It was like listening to two different men, one side of his brother battling with another. But he did not have the patience to wait out that battle. Perhaps Curze did not know what he wanted, but Corax had come here with a mission, and he would complete it - whether it involved fighting the Night Lords or not.

"I don't care about what you think or not, Curze. I am leaving here, and I am bombing this place from orbit, whether you have left it by then or not. The Storm Riders and the Sons of Hades will rest in peace, and not be resurrected as some infernal army."

Corax turned his back and realised he had made a mistake. He was felled by a shoulder barge that would have put Russ to shame. He was quickly picked up and tossed across the room, like he was nothing more than a human child.

Shaking his head to clear it, he only just moved as Curze came at him again, spittle flying from his mouth as he spouted his rantings, Corax was going to have to fight for his life and prove that he was the master of the night...


None of the Raven Guard or Night Lords could hear what was going on in the rooms that their fathers had gone into, but there was something about the ruined fortress that put the wind up even Sevatar's spine. Only Uneses didn't seem uncomfortable here, perhaps because he was home. Agapito set his hostility aside for a moment and moved to the Night Lords First Captain's side.

"You are still murdering bastards for what you did to our brothers," he snarled, "and there will be a reckoning for that, but given the truce, I think we all need to leave here. This place is not to be trifled with."

"Scared, little Raven?" Sahaal smirked.

"I was talking to the organ grinder, not the monkey," Agapito evenly said and returned his attention to the silent First Captain. "This place smells wrong."

Sevatar shifted his stance a little and moved his trident so that it was in front of him. He looked around him and his surroundings. The truth was, he had felt wrong since they had set foot in this place. He would follow his master wherever he led, though, for he had more love for his father than he did for his grandfather. He had liked the way the Raven Guard captain had spoken to Sahaal; it always cheered him up when the likes of Krieg and Sahaal got put in their place... ah, hell, Acerbus wasn't going anywhere except the afterlife, if there was one. A shame. As to Sahaal, he was a scheming worm, a true Nostraman to the bone.

"I find that I am in agreement with you for the moment, cousin," he conceded. "But we were sent here to do a job, and nothing short of the Dark King telling me otherwise will get me to leave this place without what we came for."

"Look around you, Jago, open your mind - this is a place of anger and death, ruined long ago. Any gene-seed that survived this will be tainted with that rage, physically or psychically, and it will not work in the way that the Emperor wants," Agapito snarked.

"We are not alone." Uneses got to his feet and cocked his head a little, as if listening to something... or for something. Agapito and Sevatarion turned to face the former Storm Rider. They heard nothing at first, then faintly, the sound of marching feet. "My brothers have come for their due."

"Ghosts do not exist," Sevatarion snarled, although there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice."No such thing!"

"Who are you trying to convince?" Branne called as the sound of marching feet drew every closer. "Us, or yourself?"

"There must be a break in the veil here somewhere," Sheng assumed.

"A what?"

"A tear in reality," Sheng explained. "A Word Bearer explained it to me. There are things in the Warp that would like to come through, to bless us, or more likely feast on us. There are barriers that keep this in check and make sure it doesn't happen, but there is a tear here somewhere. That is why we feel the mountainous rage. Usually it is psykers that create such weak spots in reality..."

Sevatar snapped his head round to look at Uneses. "Your father was a psyker, wasn't he? How powerful was he, exactly?"

Uneses shrugged. "Not in Magnus's league, that is for certain, but he might have been moreso than Sanguinius."

"Oh great," Branne muttered.

"Its a trap." Sevatar scowled; he had wondered why they had been sent to this unmarked world. He was a Nostraman, he had no fear for he was fear, but this had all seemed too simple to him. Collect a human who kept the Emperor's law, come to Urashan and retrieve gene-seed that had somehow not been destroyed, it just so happening that the Raven Guard were here... they had been played for fools. Was the Emperor playing them against each other? But then, not even the Emperor knew what had happened in the decades since the wolves attacked. This had just gone to prove his own disquiet about the whole thing. The footsteps drew closer, and both Agapito and Sevatar sent a vox to their fathers. Nev was right: their own animosities could be sorted another time, but for the moment they needed to work together.