"You're late," a voice grated.

Tzarine blinked hard, trying to clear the blurring in her eyes. Whoever and whatever had made the Gate had not made the journey a comfortable one. For humans, at any rate. Still, even with her clouded vision, it was hard to miss the looming figure of the Word Bearer before her.

"How long?" she asked, coughing as her lungs sucked in real air for a change. The Empyrean messed with time, she knew.

"Thirty four minutes," the Space Marine growled. "The assault is commencing. The Apostle awaits you. Be swift."

She nodded, and hurried from the artefact chamber. It had only felt like five minutes she had been speaking with Llthaanhir… now there was no time. She prayed that Morgana would have the Sisters organised, that everything would go to plan… so little time to prepare, so little time…

Then, as she clambered up the spiral stairway to the crossroads, she wondered who she was praying to. Not the Emperor. He'd never answered her before, why would he now that she had abandoned him? Not the Ruinous Powers, whose lying yet oh-so-tempting offers she had thrown aside. What else was there?

There was eerie silence, she realised. She had become used to the constant shuffling and hubbub of the mass of cultists and renegades that the Word Bearers had hidden here, and now they were… gone.

Gone to their deaths.

Tzarine stood still for a moment, looking over the mess and detritus of the horde, littering the floor of the cavern. Suddenly she felt profound remorse and pity. Since they had joined with Korgar, she had held a shield around herself, protecting herself and her Sisters from the filth of humanity. She'd killed more than a few that had stepped out of line, nearly two dozen just today. All that time, she'd felt nothing, focused on the war, and keeping her Sisters safe.

Now… ten thousand souls would be carelessly thrown away, to fuel the chain reaction that would destroy the world. Her soul ached at the thought. Rhia had been right, this whole deal was wrong. But it was not just the countless innocents who would die in the fires of Exterminatus that she pitied, it was the poor fools marching to their deaths for their beliefs.

All so pointless.

Then she shook off the sudden horror, and felt her mental armour settling into place again. This was necessary. This had to be done. Maybe later, if… no, when they were out of here, she could have a crisis.

Millions, maybe billions of people died every day across the galaxy. This world was doomed, and had been long before she'd thrown her lot in with Korgar.

For now, it was time. She patched into the vox. "Morgana. Status."

"I was getting worried," Morgana's voice crackled. "I moved us up to surface, with the Word Bearers."

Tzarine frowned. That didn't sound like a good idea. Getting stuck in the middle of a daemonic assault… "What about the portal?"

Morgana's voice had a forced cheerfulness to it. "That's what I said to Korgar. Turns out the rift isn't opening here. His psykers are going to channel the energy to another location, in the middle of a city about a hundred klicks away."

Tzarine's heart plunged. "So…"

"So we'll never have to look a daemon in the eye," Morgana said. "Isn't that lucky?"

Tzarine considered for a moment. Morgana was choosing her words carefully, just in case anyone was listening in. On that basis… there wasn't much she could say.

There wasn't much to say anyway. Her great plan to get them out… was for nothing.

Had that been Llthaanhir's little joke? Knowing she'd never have to proceed with that deal? Making her sell a little of her soul for nothing?

"Sister," came Helga's voice. "Did you get what you wanted?"

"Yes," Tzarine said shortly. "I'm on my way."

Helga switched off her vox, and glanced around.

Korgar's forces, those that weren't about to die horribly, were arrayed carefully in the city, hidden inside buildings and ready to move out. Partly it was a lie to encourage the hapless cultists, partly it was just readiness. Her little group of Seraphim were with her, lurking inside the bell tower of the cathedral. She quickly ran over the deployments in her head.

"We're about to do something dumb, aren't we?" asked Vulka, who was checking her pistols.

Helga grinned. "Tzarine tried to play their game and came up short. It's up to us to fix things."

"Shouldn't we –"

"No." The Seraphim Superior nodded out towards the distant plain, and the barely visible Imperial forces. "We're out of time, and Tzarine doesn't have the guts to raise the stakes. She hoped to twist their plans, now we're going to break them. It'll be dangerous, but she was right about one thing: living under Korgar for the rest of our lives does not appeal. You four have the easy job. Get the Sisters together and provide the wild card when the shooting starts."

Lissa looked doubtful. "We can't win a battle against the Word Bearers. They're probably expecting treachery, and it'd be hard even if we had the element of surprise."

Helga shook her head. "Timing. If we time this right… they'll be facing daemons as well, if my guess is correct. Wait for my signal."

Good thing she'd prepared for things to go wrong. She cycled her vox to a very specific frequency. "Karis. We're going to Plan B."

There was a pause, then the renegade Stormtrooper snorted. "How nice. I've always wanted to be killed by fanatical traitor Marines."

"You owe me," Helga growled. "Nobody else thought to warn you that this was a setup. How many did you pull out?"

"I've got a dozen of my best who are open to the idea that Chaos isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"And you're sure this will work?"

"As sure as I can be. I was just Gharr's lackey, I'm no expert on daemonic summoning."

"Just be ready." Helga closed the link, then glanced around. "If this works, the rift will open up right on top of us. Whatever comes out will not necessarily be friendly, I don't care what Tzarine says. Treat them as an enemy, just don't attract their attention."

"So where are you going?" Vulka asked.

"To go clean up this mess the only way I know how." Helga grinned, and sealed her helmet. "Making corpses."

Morgana glanced up as Tzarine arrived. "You're just in time," she said morbidly.

The building they had occupied had a fine view of the plain, while being just low enough to avoid being an easy artillery target. The living room had once been small, but shelling had battered it until the walls had fallen apart, opening it to what had once been a kitchen and two bedrooms, easily making room for Morgana's squad and Tzarine's bodyguards.

It was easy to see the swarms of people flooding out of the city towards the Imperial lines.

Tzarine crouched by the window, watching as the first few artillery shells began to fall. "Where are the others?"

"Ysabella's on the floor below. Helga took her unit back to the cathedral."

Tzarine grunted. And on the bottom floor was a unit of Word Bearers, neatly trapping them inside. She'd failed. Part of her wanted to just open fire, try to…

"Wait. The cathedral? Why?"

Morgana shrugged. "Who knows? Does it really matter? Korgar's taken away all our choices."

There was a thudding, and Tzarine drew her gaze away from the spectacle. One of Helga's Seraphim…

"Sisters," Vulka said. "Helga thought you might need help."

With a sudden certainty, Tzarine knew that she was, indeed, choiceless. And it was that damned Seraphim, not the Apostle that had removed her options. "Speak fast," she growled.

"This is mad, Colonel!"

Lieutenant-Colonel Korvian was tempted to agree as the Basilisks spoke again, another hundred of the renegades dying. Soon, the Russes would be joining the party, then the weapon emplacements… it was a killing zone.

He doubted the artillery crews were even aiming.

And that was the problem, he thought. It was madness. No normal army would commit to an action like this. It was suicide, the casualties would be horrific.

But it wasn't a normal army.

With a scream of engines, Black Templar Land Speeders roared over the battlefield towards the massive horde, spitting heavy bolter fire. Leman Russ shells began landing, targeting the strangely small-looking enemy vehicles. The battle cannons tore the APCs apart, and even the heavier machines soon exploded spectacularly.

Korvian estimated that there were over a thousand dead already, and there had yet to be an Imperial casualty.

And with a grim certainty, he knew that they were going to lose.

"Keep firing!" he bellowed. "Don't stop until the barrels glow!"

It passed through Helga's mind briefly that if she was wrong, she was about to die.

Seraphim jump packs, like the bulkier versions used by Space Marines, are traditionally thought of in vertical terms; the rise up, and the plummet down for shock value. There was, however, another use for them.

Three Word Bearers were patrolling the street in front of her. Three on one, not good odds. If she could bring it down to two rapidly…

Adrenalin flooded her system, and she grinned. Then the jump pack triggered, and she barrelled into the left-most Marine at terrific velocity.

It was like running into a steel wall. Her shoulderpad groaned in protest, and red warning indicators flickered in her vision, but she barely noticed them, using the rebound to boost directly up. The Word Bearer staggered, almost falling to his knees from the impact, and as the other two turned to react, her inferno pistol maglocks reversed, sending the weapons flying into her hands. Two beams like concentrated stars blasted into the middle Marine, and he fell as they burned through his armour and vaporised his heart and turned his lungs to ash.

She landed neatly, a 'recharge' indicator flashing on her HUD. The jump pack needed to cool off after all that power spent, and now she was stuck with two Word Bearers.

The final Marine lowered his bolter at her. Time to see if she was dead right, or just dead.

"So, Golic," she said brightly. "Want to blow this joint? I need your help to screw over Korgar."

Golic considered, then shot the fallen Marine. The bolter round punched through his helmet, killing him instantly. "Been waiting months to do that," he said casually. "Plan?"

"Nothing too taxing. Though I think you owe me the truth here. Why are you here?"

Golic thought for a moment. "I collect things. Korgar owns a lot."

"You've infiltrated this warband for months all for the sake of stealing some shiny things?" Helga laughed. "I'm sure nobody will object to you helping yourself when we're done. For now, we need to kill Korgar's sorcerer."

Golic looked at her dubiously. "Not asking much, are you?"

"Can't do it until the orbiting warships start blasting the plain, though. Psychic energies release, portal opens here, daemons start killing. Korgar dies, we steal his ship. Sound good?"

"Fun." He nodded seriously. "Time to get to work."