Author's note: Chapter edited due to idiocy. The Unforgotten Sage is in fact a Changer of Ways. I have a bad habit of mixing up the names of Slaaneshi and Tzeentchi Greater Daemons. Thanks to Teefplucka for correcting me.


The door buzzed.

Rhia ignored it. Tzarine had confined her here, and the only reason for a visit was some summons or message from her.

That was something she could comfortably do without.

Slowly she shifted, moving her body with surgical precision, balancing almost improbably. This was not something she had learned with the Sororitas. No, this was akeia; an ancient form of meditation, dance and combat merged into an art from her homeworld. Her birth family had been masters of it, and she had lived and breathed the movements from the moment she could balance.

The door buzzed again. Her eye twitched. Of course, thanks to the discipline and rigour of her training with the Sororitas, she had far surpassed any of her blood.

Another slow shift. Absolute calm. There was a brief moment of frustration, wishing she could pull out her sword, use that. But no. There was not enough room.

Buzz. She ground her teeth, let her arms fall to her sides, stalked to the door, opening it a crack. "Morgana."

Morgana looked at her thoughtfully. "Did I interrupt?"

Rhia's eyes narrowed. "Say your piece. I have better things to do than speak with Tzarine's lapdog."

Morgana's expression did not change, but there was a frosty edge to her tone. "Can I enter?"

The duellist toyed with the idea of refusing, but she pulled the heavy door open, pushing it closed as the other woman stepped over the threshold. She was silent, watching and waiting.

"We're headed to Vensis Gamma."

Straight to business. Good. "What of it?" she inquired coolly.

"We're going to find out what happened. Rescue any survivors if they need it. You're still a Sister, Rhia. This might not be the place for you, but we've shed and drawn blood side by side. We all have, both before and after the mess on Senaav. No politics, no xenos, no heretics here. You should be with us down there." Morgana smiled gently, but Rhia was not fooled. The lieutenant might appear a soft and pliable individual, but she had a core of adamantium. Fewer better examples could be found of the old adage about walking softly and carrying large weapons.

"Did our resident daemon-lover agree to this?"

Morgana gave a small twitch, to Rhia's satisfaction, but shook her head. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Rhia asked, momentarily off balance.

"You chose to spit bile rather than discuss the matter. Are you so blinded by hate that you can't see what it has done to you? You used to be a good Sister, one of the best. You and Tzarine fought back-to-back countless times, saved each other's' lives a dozen times over. I don't know what went wrong, but you're not the woman who was awarded the Righteous Blade medal four times over. You're smaller. Lesser. You could speak, argue, persuade people of your cause, but when given the opportunity, you left in silence. I saw you in that briefing."

Rhia opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. "Nobody would have listened," she managed finally.

"Are you so sure? You're not an easy woman to get to know, Rhia. You wear your pride like a storm shield. It cuts you off from people. We fought a hard war on Senaav, and you'll get no argument from me that it was the wrong war, but you became a bitter loner while the rest of us were forged into a unit. Perhaps if you'd ever taken the time to speak to your Sisters, you'd realise how wrong you are." Morgana leaned back, folded her arms. "Tzarine plans to throw you out when we're done with this system. Perhaps you'll both be happier for that, but I think you still have a place here, if only you'd realise it. Come to Vensis. Think on what I've said. You might be surprised."

Rhia looked away. "Maybe I misjudged you," she said after a moment. "All right. I'll come. Sure Tzarine will want me in her personal guard, though?"

"She knows you hate her, and I don't think she's too fond of you right now. But she's putting that aside and knows you will too, because there's something bigger at stake than personal vendettas." Morgana straightened. "We leave within the hour. I'll let you ready yourself in peace. Just remember, we're all Sisters. If this is to be our last mission together, let's try and get to a point where we can part on good terms. We'll all feel the better for it, you included. Trust me, few things hang over you like a burned bridge."

"What do you mean?" Rhia asked curiously.

Morgana shook her head. "Maybe you'll hear that story someday, but not now. Just remember that however much you may disagree with Tzarine's decisions, she was trying to look out for us all. She's succeeded so far."

Rhia watched her leave in silence. There was a lot to process there.


Tzarine hated the Thunderhawks.

They felt unclean. Despite scouring, repainting and sanctifying them as best they could, there was still something foul about setting foot on the old Word Bearer dropships. From a purely logistical and tactical point of view, they were ideal. Thunderhawks were both incredibly tough and put out huge amounts of firepower. Few designs in the Imperium were better for inserting elite troops into a combat zone and giving them fire support before and after. From any other point of view, using repurposed Chaos equipment felt like a terrible idea.

But for the moment, they were the only real option. The Soul Venom was a dedicated gunboat, lacking significant launch bays in favour of massive gun decks and lance batteries. Fighters and bombers were not a part of its combat doctrine, and the only small vessels it possessed were a scattering of landers and cargo shuttles, none of which were suitable for this kind of situation. Hopefully they would find a less corrupt alternative soon, but until then…

She could feel that the other Sisters felt similarly uneasy, but none had hesitated or complained as they boarded – not even Rhia. She gave the swordswoman a sidelong glance, wondering what Morgana had said to her to get her to agree to this. She'd even been polite and respectful when she reported in, if not particularly friendly. Maybe she was just as eager to investigate what had befallen her former friends and colleagues.

Vensis was too small to have much of an atmosphere. The few settlements, and the Mission itself, were all pressurised environments. The only reason it was populated at all was the rich mineral seams discovered in times past, but those were drying up. Fortune hunters kept scanning the place, trying to find the next big deposit, but otherwise few people lived here. It made it ideal for a base of operations. The Mission was actually built into an old mining complex, and Tzarine thought back over old training runs through the mineshafts…

She shivered. The same mineshafts she'd seen in her dream.

"We're approaching the coordinates you provided," the vox crackled. Tzarine shifted uneasily. They'd flown the 'hawks themselves from Senaav, but right now she wanted all her troops on the ground, which had meant putting the gunships in the hands of Soul Venom pilots. She still wasn't sure how far she could trust Syndragar and his men. After all, she had coerced them into helping her, although she suspected that Syndragar rather liked the arrangement. There was also a feeling like betrayal, showing the location of a secret Imperium base to renegades.

That last thought almost made her laugh. This would be the least of her sins. "Status," she said aloud.

"I'm transmitting the code you provided, no response. Not getting any significant power readings. I have a fix on a landing site, though. Do we proceed?"

"Proceed. Be ready for anti-aircraft fire if the base turrets are turned on, but we should be clear."

"Copy."

No response and no power didn't mean much. It was meant to be hidden, after all. Still, it definitely felt like things were wrong.

"Did we go near any of the main settlements?" she suddenly asked.

"Negative, we tried to keep a low profile. Neither we nor the Venom has picked up any air traffic on this side of the moon, though."

Tzarine grunted. That did mean a bit more. Flyers were the most common means of transport here, with the relatively low gravity and harsh terrain making normal vehicles unreliable. If the Mission had been hit badly, there was nothing to stop the settlements from also being destroyed. There was no particular strategic value to it, but that didn't stop some people. Death and destruction were their own ends. Particularly to Chaos. If the Iron Warriors were responsible for this…

"Touchdown in ten." There was a thud and a dim roar as the side hatches popped, the noise of the engines dulled by the thin atmosphere. There was a scramble as power armoured soldiers readied to disembark. Just because the area seemed clear was not a good reason to not go in combat-ready.

The Thunderhawk hit the rock hard. Power armour-assisted stabilisation and long practice meant that the Sisters barely shifted, and they deployed rapidly, bolters sweeping the area. Tzarine relaxed slightly as the Thunderhawk took off behind them, the other gunship still circling overhead. No immediate ambush. No matter how prepared you were, disembarking was a dangerous moment.

"Clear," Morgana reported. "We're outside the south entrance, if memory serves."

"The east one is more commonly used," Tzarine remarked. "If there's trouble inside, they might not expect us from this angle. First good news of the day. Move up in stages, there could still be an ambush. Thunderhawk Two, what's your fuel status?"

"We can keep dancing up here for another half-hour before we'll need to head back to the Venom or touch down," the pilot reported.

"Copy. Ysabella, be ready, I'll be calling your team in once we're inside."

"Acknowledged," the Dominion replied curtly.

Vensis Gamma was grey, the colour of dust and dead sand. There was simply not enough atmosphere to support life, aside from protected and tended in biodomes. The mild winds did little to erode, leaving stark, sharp outlines and hard edges everywhere. High above, the blue-green orb of Shondar Majoris, and the small disks of its three other moons lit the desolate vista. It was a long way from the gardens and magnificent architecture of her training and childhood, and she'd frankly hated this ball of rock. But it had still been home, and it was with mixed feelings that she finally arrived at the largely disguised south entrance. The grey metal blended in with the grey rock quite comfortably.

"Access codes will have changed," Morgana said. "And your override will have been erased. I'll see if I can bypass it."

Tzarine shook her head. "Don't bother." She prodded a finger at the access panel, which was dull and dead. "No power. We'll have to cut our way in. Meltas, you're up."

Morgana's meltagunner moved forward, and the concentrated blast of heat tore through the door's locking mechanism. There was a rush of air as the atmosphere within escaped. Morgana signalled, and two more Sisters pulled at the two halves and dragged them apart, Tzarine and Zekka ready for what was on the other side.

Empty. Tzarine swept once more to be sure, and then stepped inside. "Clear. Ysabella, we've got our entrance. Land and hold this place, we're moving in."


There was an irony to this, Llthaanhir reflected. A device built to allow mortals to explore the Warp, being used by a daemon native to it.

She paused to admire the Azure Gate. It really was a marvel of technology, beyond anything humanity could hope to achieve. And there was a certain aesthetic to it that she liked, smooth, curving lines and the ever-shifting mists contained within.

Still, irony or not, this was the most expedient way to return to the warp without threatening her link to Reality. She wasn't entirely sure how grounded she would be if the talisman she'd given to Tzarine were to fail, and she didn't feel like finding out. She still had work to do here, after all. The Azure Gate worked by different rules, though, and she was sure Tzarine wouldn't mind her using it.

Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air, enjoying the residual scents of mortal occupation. No, focus. That's your problem, Llthy, she chided herself. Never could concentrate on the task at hand.

She touched the shifting surface, and faded into the Warp.

Immediately there was a sense of being smothered. She'd have gasped for air if such a reaction were normal to her, and she tried to change shape, expand. Slowly she moulded, changing to a form she rarely used – mostly because it felt silly, all told. Some daemon princes liked being twelve foot tall monstrosities, covered in fangs and talons and – in the case of the Slaaneshi, at least – obscene parodies of sexual characteristics. This wasn't too far off how she'd appeared before her final ascension to daemonhood, in fact. But for her, subtlety was king.

The grandiose shape didn't help, though. She still felt insulated – and then she grimaced. Side effects of the Gate. She could not truly link with the Warp, and thus it felt like this.

Discomfort be damned, she had work to do. She screamed a long, ululating cry, and settled down to wait, shrinking back to her favoured, more humanoid form.

Time passed. How much time was anyone's guess. Even a native of the Warp can have difficulty with such matters.

"You called…"

Her gaze snapped to the source of the voice. "Took you long enough. I desire information."

"Nothing is free, queen of the inferno. What do you offer in return?"

She hated dealing with Tzeentchi daemons. "You already know what you want, or you would not have answered. Name your price."

"A warlord of the Materium must die. You sponsored him, I think. Deraan."

Llthaanhir snorted. "He's still active? Consider it done. The Bloodtongues will feast on him before the day is out – if you tell me what I wish to know."

"What knowledge do you desire?"

"Shondar Majoris. The Iron Warriors seek something there. What do they seek?"

There was a long pause.

"I'm waiting," she prodded impatiently.

The Changer of Ways came into focus a little more than usual. Daemonic expressions are hard to read to the uninitiated, but it looked positively embarrassed. "I do not know."

She raised an eyebrow. "The Unforgotten Sage does not know something? You must be more limited than I thought."

The Unforgotten's gaze turned angry, but its voice remained the reedy whisper. "There is a shroud over Shondar. There is knowledge there, a story to be told, but it is beyond my art to tell it. It is at the heart of a whirlpool in the rivers of fate, and what lies at the bottom, only a few know."

Llthaanhir shifted uneasily. "Few have the ability to shroud the world like that. Are you telling me that Tzeentch himself is watching over Shondar?"

"There is a great curse over Shondar, something that earned such ire that something powerful declared it should not be. Who cast it, I cannot say. That is knowledge made forgotten."

She stood. "Very well. We'll meet again."

"You will honour our bargain?"

The daemon princess laughed. "I asked for answers and you provided guesses and riddles. I expect better from you. I renounce my protection of this warlord. If you wish to kill him, my servants will do nothing, but the deed is in your hands. Half an answer is worth half a payment."

"Perhaps there is something else that will be of value to you."

She paused. "I'm listening."

"Zurashniel is near."

Llthaanhir turned to look at the Unforgotten. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Your sector is a matter of interest for those who watch the Materium. Zurashniel is near you."

The demon princess stared for a moment. "You'll get your kill."

The Changer of Ways faded.

Llthaanhir looked up to the sky, or what passed for it, and screamed again. Not as a summons.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"