Chatpre 29 – The Siege of Dimmimar

Aevar shielded his eyes as he took his first step outside of the monastery in just over a month.

"Damn, feels good to breathe some fresh air," he said.

"Fekke of a long time comin'," Maeva said. "If only there wasn't any dust 'n shit cloggin' it up."

"It gives it character."

"Blasphemer." Aevar looked out, seeing Lynia approaching him, flanked by her honor guards. "Good to see you remember what the sun looks like."

"Being the best at making shit tends to chain me to the forge," he laughed. "But I heard the most interesting news, and I wanted to get it straight from the source. Is it true the Black Legion is withdrawing?"

"That they are," the Canoness smiled, her lopsided scars twisting with her sips. "And we have only received a token reinforcement."

"They lost their balls at th' sight a new guys?" Maeva laughed.

"Hardly," Aevar said. "The Despoiler must've been counting on catching us alone, and off-guard. Any reinforcements, no matter how small, would tell him that more is on the way. It's a tactical retreat, nothing more."

"He's just fekken' scared."

"I'm sure he never suspected on us holding out this long," Lynia smiled. "It was a blessing from the Emperor that Captain Agostina was able to reach us before the Despoiler did."

"Yea, damn lucky," Aevar mumbled. "Too damn lucky."

"It is not luck, but rather a blessing," Lynia said. "Now, why have you left the forge?"

"Had to stretch my legs before this was all over," he said. "That, and give my deepest thanks to our saviors."

"Then you're in luck. The Black Legion might be retreating, but there's still plenty of war to be had," Lynia said. "Come with us, we'll get you to the front."

Aevar un-slung Katla from his back and followed the Sisters, Maeva at his heels.

"Make sure those axes don't get stuck in anything," he told her.

"Ha-fuckin'-ha," Maeva growled, holding her two axes tight in her hands. "Ya get an arm hacked off by a warboss one time, an' everyone holds it over yer heard."

"It was a nob, not a warboss."

"Fekken' spoil sport."

They traveled down the trench line, following cheering Sisters as they pushed forward. Overhead, in the ruins, the guns of the Mechanicus never stopped firing.

"Hound them, sisters," Lynia yelled. "Show them the price for trying to desecrate our world."

The sounds of battle increased, and Aevar finally saw the front.

"Dammit all, do I miss this," he grinned, his two hearts beating in rhythm. Just as they were approaching the very front lines, he saw a green giant who was blasting heretics with a plasma pistol. His servo arms carried his massive broadsword. "Croan, you getting in on this, too?"

"Of course," the Salamander said. He wore his helm, but Aevar could hear the smile in his voice. "Nearly a full month of siege work, and now we get to go on the offensive. How can I not miss this?"

"Knew I liked you for some reason," Aevar laughed. "Come on! Back to war!"

Having been out of battle for so long, getting the chance to fight again made him feel like a Claw again. Aevar vaulted the trench, and began charging towards the retreating line of the heretics. Behind him, he could hear the roar of the Sisters as they broke with him.

Ahead, the traitors were trying to make a valiant stand as they withdrew. Bolts hit Aevar's armor, but the thick plates easily pushed the incoming fire aside. Laughing, Aevar returned fire with Iounn. The bolt pistol clattered in his hand, and one heretic fell, a bolt in his eye.

"The wolves are among you!" He bellowed as he charged into the fray. The heretics fought back, but he parried with Katla's shaft, and brought the massive hammer around. The air cracked, and heretics were thrown about, broken. Second later, Croan was at his side, and the buzz of chainswords marked the presence of the Sisters.

"We fight for the Emperor," they screamed, laying their fury upon the traitors.

Aevar smashed another heretic to meaty chunks, and from his back Maeva dashed in. With her cybernetic arm augmenting her strength, she was able to hack a head clean from the neck.

"Try ta stick tha', bastard," she laughed.

"Fall back," the traitors called. "Hold the loyalists here."

Ahead of them, a daemon engine growled. It was a massive defiler, armed to the teeth with heavy weapons. Aevar pulled Maeva back, just as a blast from the autocannon strafed them. The rounds bounced off his armor, but he could feel their strength even through the plating. It was good that it held; such force could tear him limb from limb.

"Stay back here," he said. "Croan, we're taking that thing down."

"Right with you, brother," the Salamander roared.

"Sisters, covering fire."

Bolts flew overhead as they charged forward. The defiler tried to stop them by unloading its arsenal on them, but all of the snap shots went wide. Croan dashed ahead, braving the torrents of flames that it spat out.

"You call that fire?" He laughed. "Let me show you true radiance."

He brought his sword down point first on the daemon engine. It pierced the damned hide, and his servo-arms began tearing into the fragile joints, cutting connection tubes and linear drives. Aevar jumped onto one of the daemon's legs, and then launched himself at the daemon's head, Katla ready to swing.

"For Russ and the Allfather!"

The daemon howled as its face was shattered. He landed on the daemon's chassis, and hit it again. Against the combined might of both tech marines, the daemon engine fell to the ground, finally dead.

"For the Emperor," Croan yelled, holding his sword high.

"For the Emperor," the Sisters repeated.

"Damn, did that feel good," Aevar laughed, jumping to the ground.

"Yes, it is good to be back in battle. Where are the next ones?"

"Fuck, the defiler was to slow us down," Aevar spat, looking ahead. The traitor's lines were a block away, and gaining momentum. "Come on, after them."

The Sisters shot as they ran, but the heretics were in full retreat. From one of the side-streets came a new group of Space Marines, armored entirely in yellow, and they laid into the traitors. But even the new group couldn't catch them; for each heretic they shot, the rest moved faster.

"Friendlies down range," Lynia called. "Watch your fire, sisters."

The traitors were running, clamoring to get onboard any transport they could find as they went. Eventually, each cursed Rhino and damned Land Raider was filled with retreating traitors, and they ground away, moving faster and faster.

"Damn, what I wouldn't give for an orbital bombardment," Aevar spat.

"Hold, sisters," Lynia said as they came upon the yellow-armored marines. "I am Canoness Lynia, of the Order of the Valorous Heart. Whom may you be?"

"We are the Lamenters," the lead sergeant replied. "We are answering your cry for help."

"How many men do you have?"

"Seventy-five."

"Seventy-fuckin'-five?" Maeva said. "An' ya came here ta fight?"

"You got some stones, sergeant," Aevar said. "And we owe you for that."

"It is merely our duty which we do," the Lamenter said. "Please, no thanks is necessary. We simply wish to regain the honor of our Chapter."

"You said you are the Lamenters?" Croan said. "You are of the Cursed Founding, are you not?"

"'Cursed Founding?' Fuck that noise," Aevar said. "You really pulled our nuts out of the fire. I don't care how cursed you are or how piss-poor your wyrd is, I'm making you some top-grade shit for this."

"Thank you, but our Chapter is on the verge of dying. Again," the Lamenter said. "If there is one thing that we need, it is to replenish our numbers."

"Well, if you're gonna all die out, you're gonna die as the most heavily armed bastards in the galaxy," Aevar said. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"Many thanks, tech marine."

"Not just any tech marine, I'm the Blasphemer. And let me tell you, I got some good things I can crank out here."

"You are…? Then perhaps we shall take your weapons. We are under-funded as it is."

"Not for long you are. Now, are there any more fucking heretics to kill? I still got a few kinks in my back I'd like to work out."


Agostina stood on the bridge of the Johnathan. The debris of the Sister's ships floated in the void around Dimimmar, a testament to the void battle one-month prior. But of the last traitor ships were fleeing. All from the sight of one ship and a rogue trader.

"To think the Black Legion would run so easily," Saradas said.

"It wasn't this force, but the promise of more to follow," she said. "This was the best time to run, and they took it."

They watched the Lamenter's battered ship float closer to the planet, going into orbit.

"Do you think they'll throw a feast down there?" She asked.

"I'll be surprised if they aren't feasting right now."


The gibbering spawns were an abomination to nature. Uncle Kemuel and his Custode brothers were parrying the mad attacks of the spawn. They were just keeping the spawns at bay, but Laura was faster than either of them. Her blade dipped in and out of the mutant's defenses, cutting them with incredible ease.

One tried to break away, but its rubber-like flesh was pounded by bolts from the Sisters of Battle, blowing pieces of them off with incredible ease.

"Such is the fate of the heretic," Brenia spat, ejecting her spent magazine. "Eat shit in Hell!"

"That appears to be the last of them," Uncle Kemuel said, dealing the coup de grace to a fell spawn.

"Damn, where are we?" Laura asked. Suddenly she realized how tired she was. "We must be on the outskirts of the hive city; I actually see signs of nature."

"Looks like it," Helfist said, cautiously advancing on the copses. Even in death, they still twitched. "Smells like burning prometheum, and you can tell from the blast marks ships either landed here, or took off."

"Those heretics beat a quick retreat," a Claw laughed. "Ojor va Russ!"

"Ojor va Russ," the remaining Claw chanted. They were spirited, but anyone could hear the exhaustion in their voices.

"Well, look at that, we might not have missed the party after all," Helfist said, pointing to the distance. "Hey, Lamenters! You gonna keep up or what?"

"It is pointless to advance so recklessly," the Lamenters' sergeant said. His group of marines were advancing with caution, bolters at the ready. "Reckless advancing will lead to a shallow grave."

"You're a ray of sunshine," Laura said.

"Bad things happen to us," the sergeant replied. "Caution has been our greatest ally."

"Well, you're with us now, so we'll scare off any bad wyrd or malefactorum," Helfist said. "Come on, you want to miss this party?"

"It looks like someone has beaten us to the 'party,'" Cela said, pointing in the distance. The yellow armor of the Lamenters were breaking from the city, spreading out to lay down fire. Three figures in the distance were charging; Laura could see that it was her Uncle Aevar and Croan, and her mother.

"Let us join them," Kemuel said. "Come, it shall make the walk back better."

Wight grunted, and led the way over to the group of Lamenters that drove the Despoiler off. The Claws, normally overenthusiastic, were just as exhausted as Laura felt, and didn't race ahead.

"Damn, can't believe this is over." Laura tried not to groan as Kruko fell in beside her. "Can you imagine the party we'll be throwing to celebrate?"

"I've a hard time seeing the Sisters give up that much communion wine," she said dryly.

"Come on, you can't be happy for once?" He said. "You can't be so dull all the time, you have to live a little. Can you do that for me?"

She could cut him in half…this was war; accidents happened.

"Look who returns!" Laura was surprised to see Aunt Lynia leading the group. She broke from them to walk towards her.

"Canoness," Cela said. As Lynia approached, she kneeled. After a second, Brenia followed suit. "We are the last surviving members of the Ebon Chalice, your grace. What are our orders?"

"It's good to know that members of your order have survived," Lynia smiled.

"We are glad some of our Sisters have survived," Croan said, approaching with Aevar and Maeva. His helmet was on, but Laura could tell that he was staring at her. "By Vulkan's hammer, what happened to my armor?"

"'Your armor?'" Kruko asked. "I thought you said your uncle made your armor. Wait, a Tech Marine made your armor? This is your uncle?!"

"One of them," Laura said. Brenia was still kneeling, but Laura could see her sneer.

Just a fucking special, pretty princess. Laura could practically read her mind.

"Yea, just one uncle out of a whole pack," Aevar said. He was covered in blood, and most of it didn't seem human. "Laura, glad to know you survived."

"An' fuckin' grew," Maeva said, craning her neck just to look at her.

"Mom, can we not…?"

"Yea, bet yer real tired. Come, we'll get a feast started," Maeva smiled. "We kicked th' Black Legion right 'tween th' legs! Sent 'em crawlin' home! Think a th' stories we got from this!"

"Sisters, send word," Lynia ordered. "Ring the bells, or whatever bells that have survived the fight. We have drove the Black Legion back, and the Emperor's light remains on Dimmimar. Tonight, we feast on whatever is left of our stocks."

The Sisters cheered, firing their bolters into the air. The Claws were quick to join, and the Lamenters re-grouped, moving off.

"Just where the fuck do you think you're going?" Aevar demanded.

"We have our ships to return to," the lead sergeant said. "We must—"

"Bullshit, you're our fucking heroes," he grinned. "You'll take the spot of honor tonight, all of you! Come on!"

"I—we…"

"What, not used to getting thanked or something?"

"To tell the truth, no."

"Well, all that changes tonight. The Sons of Russ will show you how thankful we can be! I'll be making new armor and weapons for the whole lot of you!"

The Lamenters, suddenly unsure of the praise they were getting, hesitantly following the Vlka. The Claws egged them on, tugging at their pauldrons, singing battle-hymns in an effort to loosen them up. The Sisters followed, singing their own chats and hymns. Laura waited until Cela, Brenia and Kruko were a few paces away before going up to Croan.

"What's going on with me?" She asked.

"You have become a true warrior," he said.

"Not what I fucking meant!" She said. "I've…come on, you can see that I'm different."

"Finally hit tha' growth spurt, yea?" Her mom smiled. "Really gotta look up ta ya now."

"What's going on with me? Things are different, strange. Like, like something's been let go and I'm totally different."

Uncle Croan shook his head.

"We never truly expected this to happen," he said sadly.

"Expect what to happen?"

"We'll tell ya," Maeva said. "Ya got a right ta know. But not now; gotta make sure th' heretics are outta th' system an' everythin's safe."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"It is not that simple," Croan said, shaking his head. "It is just is not that simple."


Bells were ringing throughout the city. Every temple that survived with their bells intact were making as much noise as possible. Aevar smiled. As they got closer and closer to the temple, more and more of the fleeing civilians were being ushered from their makeshift, underground bunkers to fill the streets with their cheering.

Good thing, too; it was getting crowded down there. Many of the civilians were using simple sheets as makeshift walls for privacy.

"I never thought we'd see the end of this," Lynia sighed. "Aevar…"

"What, not 'Blasphemer?'"

"Not now," the old canoness smiled. "Today, now, you are not the Blasphemer, but my good, close friend."

"You flatter me, Lynia," he smiled back.

"Not 'you old bat?'"

"Unless you like that name."

"Only when you're the one using it." Lynia paused as they walked back. Sisters were cheering, hugging each other, glad to be alive. "Tell me, and be honest; how close were we to losing? It was…tense. Oh, Emperor, it was beyond tense. The heretics were beating at our doors before they pulled back. But how close were we from actually losing?"

"You want an inconvenient truth, or a reassuring lie?"

"The truth, please."

"I gotta warn you, the truth will not set you free," he said. "Take it from me, I've probably got the best experience in the galaxy with that."

"Damn that, I want to know."

"Knew I liked you for a reason," he grinned sadly. "It was closer that you'd ever like to see. We were running on fumes down there."

"What were we running short on?"

"On fucking everything," he said. "We were a few days away from passing out burned rats and rotten potatoes as rations."

"So we would have starved a bit. Hard, yes, but hardly upsetting. We still had your forge work."

"Yea, only we haven't been doing forge work for nearly two weeks."

That got Lynia to stop.

"You're joking! The hammers of the forge were never ending; you were turning out Mechanicus robots and battle servitors every day!"

"At the beginning, yes," he said, "but what were we spitting out after the two-week mark?"

"Ammunition. Boxes and boxes of ammunition."

"'Cus that's pretty much all we had left," he said. "We ran out of supplies to make the Mechanicus' robots after the first week. You ever wonder why servitors were suddenly scarce? We ran out of materials to make them at week two. Since then, we could only spit out ammunition. Anything else was too intensive to make. Shit, we turned to smelting hammers and anvils just to make bolt rounds."

"But the forge was always working. You never stopped."

"Had to keep the magick alive," he grinned, wiggling his fingers like it was some parlor trick. "Ever since the second week, when we stopped making robots, we set up servitors and tech priests to just wail away at anvils."

"But why?"

"'Cus you could hear the damn things halfway through the mountain, especially the rooms we dug out and excavated for the civilians. Imagine the panic if they heard the forge go quiet; nothing getting made, all hope is lost. So, we kept on pumping out ammo. Eventually, we had to cut down on using the bolt powder to stretch everything out. We were a day away from using them, too."

"You made bad munitions?!"

"Don't worry, we marked every single one of them we made. It'll be easy to find them and make 'em the right way, once we have the stuff for it."

"How could you give us bad munitions?" She snapped, trying to keep her voice quiet. Not that she had to; with the noise of the cheering, she was drowned out.

"Better that then have everyone realize we're pretty much out of anything."

Lynia gazed at the crowd of cheering civilians. Was it worth it? She had to think of the entire planet, not just her own Sisters and charges.

"I think I'll try some of that Fenrisian ale you got squirreled away."

"Wait, what? Who are you and what did you do with Lynia?"

"I'm sorry, but having faced down the Black Legion and come within inches of eating boots and shooting dud rounds has scared me," she said. "As your wolves are fond of saying, I could use something to take the edge off."

"Get in line, sister," Aevar laughed, wrapping an arm around her.


Dylena was one of the many faces cheering as the Sisters of Battle began returning to the monastery. With them were yellow-armored Marines, the remaining wolves of Fenris, local PDF troopers, and a tall, dark skinned woman. The woman was taller than the Sisters and the PDF troopers, absolutely towered over them. She was about the same size as the Space Marines.

Her heart caught in her throat; it couldn't be. Dylena pushed her way through the crowd, trying to get a better look. She came to a ruined street light, and climbed it up a few feet up.

The woman…it was Laura. She had gotten tall, and despite the dirt and grime, there was a radiant beauty to her, like a veil was lifted and her true self was exposed. And that true self was powerful; Dylena could feel it from where she stood.

Dylena could feel it in her bones; Laura had reached her full potential. That meant that it was time. Every adjustment had been made, every push was subtle enough to reach this conclusion, the preferred outcome. Out of the millions of possible futures, this is the one that was finally brought about.

Jumping down from the streetlight, Dylena made her way through the crowd, back towards the lower levels of the monastery. Her heart was pounding in her chest. After all this time, it had finally come.

Dylena only had the memories of her childhood, but they were burned into her head so she could never forget. She knew what had to be done, and where to go to return. But did she want to? This was her home now. Laura was her friend. She was more than her friend, she was…she was special to her.

Both of them, the two freaks.

But it didn't matter. Their brief time together was just that; brief. It was never meant to last.

She ran back to her old chambers, the rooms they stayed in as part of their schooling. It wasn't to gather any belongings; not only were all of her things moved down below into the hastily excavated tunnels, but she already had all that she needed. She walked back to the room because it was the starting point.

The instructions burned to her brain were clear to her. Starting from their chambers, she walked out, counting her steps, taking the correct turns at the right intervals. All the while, she rubbed the small charm bracelet on her wrist, one of the very few reminders of her heritage. Eventually, she came to a small room, one of the many that was empty, unused and forgotten.

Dylena unclasped her bracelet and pulled the charms apart. Each charm revealed a fine piece of wraithbone chalk. She might be too human, but she could feel a small tug of power radiating from it. Using the chalk, she began tracing a pattern on the wall, one of the many things that was imprinted in her, making it impossible to forget.

As she worked, she couldn't help but think: did she want to leave? Laura was the only thing worth staying for, but once Laura found out what she was, what she was here to do, everything would change. Everyone was taught to hate anything that was different; violently, blindly and passionately. Laura was no exception. If anything, she hated more passionately than anyone else; her Space Marine uncles had seen to that. This was no world Dylena could live in.

When she finished, Dylena put the chalk back into her bracelet, stepped back, and waited. She could hear the echoing noises of celebration coming from outside the monastery; the small room was close to the lowest level, closest to the street. Dylena stood, waiting nervously.

Minutes ticked by. Something was supposed to happen by now. Could they have forgotten? Could she have left her here, all alone?

Dylena blinked; reality was warping. The wall seemed to shimmer, then bent. It spun, pulling further and further back, revealing a black opening to somewhere. Out of that black opening came a tall, grand figure. Wearing black armor with graceful white accents and a tall helmet, the figure held a staff, and a strange, ancient pistol.

"Identify yourself," the tall figure said. It spoke gently, but there was no mistake; it was a harsh command, and in an alien language.

"'After time adrift among open stars,'" Dylena spoke flawlessly in her mother, alien, tongue, "'Along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began.'"

The tall figure visibly relaxed. A hand pulled the helmet off, revealing a woman's face. It was long and graceful, much like Dylena's own face. Her hair was golden, just as her own. Dylena had not seen her since she was a toddler, but the face was so familiar. So familiar it made her want to cry.

"My daughter," the Eldar farseer said, tears welling in her eyes, "you've returned to me."

She ran into her mother's arms.

"Oh, my beautiful, beautiful daughter," her mother cried. "We have missed you so."

"Is…is father…"

"No, he has passed on to his own afterlife," her mother said. "The shortness of the human life…it is not often that it is a tragedy, but this is this time." Her mother dried her eyes. "It is done?"

"Yes, it is," Dylena said. "Adjustments were made. Laura is on the right path."

"Then maybe our salvation may yet come about. Laura will sit upon the Golden Throne, and then, maybe humanity can be the one to pay the butcher's bill instead of the Eldar. Maybe we can finally escape the clutches of She Who Thirsts by giving her another victim."

"Dylena? Hello?"

The voice made Dylena freeze. It was Laura.

"You here? Come on, a few of the Sisters saw you heading this way. I want to see you."

"Is that her?" Her mother asked.

"It is."

"We must be away. The webway here is but a temporary opening, and we cannot risk staying any longer. It is already a beacon to daemons, and the mon-keigh might find us."

Dylena was about to walk into the strange, black-yet-glowing entrance when heavy footfalls rounded the corner.

"Dylena?"

Laura couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her friend, Dylena, was with an Eldar witch.

"What are you doing?" Laura asked.

The witch said something in their strange xenos language, and raised her hands at her. Laura could feel the pull of reality, the gathering of energy; the witch was trying to curse her.

The Grey Knights were relentless in their training, and had pressed such ruthless training onto her. With practiced ease, she mentally reached out and shut the gates of the immaterium with as much force as she could muster.

The Eldar witch recoiled at the might of her attack, but before Laura could draw her pistol, Dylena gracefully stepped between her and the witch, arms held wide like it was a movement she had been planning and rehearsing to utter perfection.

"Dylena, get out of the way," she barked.

"I can't."

"But…what is this? She's trying to take you."

"No, I'm leaving with her."

Laura stared at her oldest, her only, friend.

Dylena pulled her hair back, showing her omnipresent, eagle winged earrings.

"We have one thing in common, Laura," she said, removing them. With the earrings in her hands, she tilted her head. Both of her ears were elongated, coming to fine, graceful points.

They were the ears of the Eldar.

"We're both different," she said, tearing up. "Freaks; outsiders. I'm sorry, but I have my people to go back to. And you have yours."

Her volkite pistol in her hand suddenly weighted a ton. Laura couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger.

"But…"

Dylena placed the earrings on the ground. She and the Eldar walked back to the strange portal.

"But I thought we could be freaks together."

They disappeared into the strange ether, and the opening closed behind them, leaving only a solid wall with strange chalk markings on it. Feet pounded the ground from around the corner.

"What the shit is this?" Uncle Helfist demanded. Wight was with him. "Smells of fucking malefactorum and…" He sniffed at the air. "And xenos. Where are they?"

"She's gone," Laura mumbled.

"Who?"

"Dylena."

"Dylena? You mean the graceful, pretty girl who always smells funny?"

She picked up the two earrings from the ground. Uncle Helfist grabbed one, sniffing it.

"Yea, these are hers," he said. "Dammit, what's that fucking smell…?"

"Eldar," she mumbled.

"Eldar? Yea, now that you mention it, it does smells like them. But it's mostly human, I think."

"Girl was Eldar?" Wight asked.

"I think we could smell a full-blooded fucking Eldar," Helfist growled, giving her the earring back. He sniffed the air. "She must've been something; a half-breed maybe? But one of those witches was here. What the fuck were they doing here?"

Laura held onto the two earrings like her life depended on it. Suddenly, she felt painfully alone.


"Eldar witches?" Aunt Lynia cursed. "Here? On a Shrine World of the Emperor?"

Her room was crowded. Parsef and Aunt Geist were there, along with her uncles Kemuel, Aevar, Helfist, Croan, Legato and her mom, Mavea. Uncle-Sergeant Julas was leaning against a wall with his arm still missing; he was cradling the stump. Laura sat in front of her Aunt's desk, trying not to curl up. She held Dylena's earrings in her hands.

"Aye, they were fucking here," Uncle Helfist spat. "The damn air reeked of them."

"How could xenos grow so close to us?" Aunt Lynia demanded. "Laura, what did that xenos traitor Dylena tell you?"

"You mean the pretty girl that always smelled funny?" Uncle Aevar asked.

"The very one," Uncle Helfist said. "Think that was what it was? Some fucking xenos blood that made her smell a bit off?"

"Only thing I can think of."

"Her name is Dylena," Laura mumbled. "And she's my friend. She said she was sorry."

"She is a xenos witch, a threat to humanity," her aunt railed.

"This is a massive breach in our security," Julas said from the back of the room. "If her scent can fool even a Space Wolf, she can breech any planet she is placed on."

"Her damn scent never fooled us," Helfist growled, his pride injured. "We've just never smelled a damn half-human half-xenos witch before. Until now, we never knew such a thing was possible!"

"We'll put a warning out for her," Aunt Lynia vowed. "She'll not be able to show her face on any planet that holds the Emperor's faith in their heart."

Laura's stomach rolled at the very mention of 'faith.'

"I'm more curious about Laura," Parsef said. "I'm wondering why she grew so much."

Laura could feel all eyes shift on her. Even though she was sitting, she was almost as tall as Parsef and Aunt Lynia. She kept playing with her Dylena's earrings. Nothing seem real.

"It could be no curse, that can be sure," she heard Uncle Kemuel say. "No curse would cause a person to grow, to become stronger than an Angel of Death, and preternaturally quick."

"Legato, you're a genetor of reputed degree," Aunt Lynia said. "What is causing this…this strange growth?"

Laura looked up from the earrings. Her thin, stick of an uncle nervously stood.

"She's fine," he said. "Her genes are perfectly normal."

"Bullshit," Uncle Helfist said. "What could make her tougher than a Vlka?"

"It…it is 'that,'" he said.

"'That?'" Uncle Helfist gave him a questioning look. Uncle Legato returned his gaze. Helfist looked to Aevar, who only nodded.

The color suddenly drained from Uncle Helfist's face.

"No, no, no…not 'that.' You said 'that' didn't work!"

"What is 'that?'" Aunt Lynia demanded.

"You said we weren't doing 'that!'" Uncle Helfist's eyes were wide, his hand was shaking, and suddenly he was pointing at her. In his off-hand, he thumbed the runes that dangled from his neck. Laura could smell the panic on him, she could hear his twin hearts slamming in his chest. What had gotten Uncle Helfist so scared? "You said we shouldn't worry about 'that!'"

"Blasphemer, if you value your life, you'll tell us what 'this' project is," Parsef snarled. "Geist, at the ready."

"What's this project you are talking about?" Aunt Lynia hissed. "Answer me, Blasphemer."

Laura suddenly realized that the only ones in the room who were anywhere close to being at ease were her family. Uncle Aevar was leaning back in his chair, Uncle Croan stood at ease, Uncle Legato was a bundle of nerves, yes, but he still stood tall. And her mother…her mother was staring at her, pain in her eyes.

"If I could, I'd 've never let this happen," she said. "Ya gotta know tha', yea? After all this shit goes down, just know tha' I woulda paid any price ta never let this happen, an' tha' I love ya more 'n life itself. Ya hear me?"

Her mother took a second to compose herself.

"Yer…I ain't yer mom," she said, her voice breaking. "Not yer real mom, anyhow. I mean, I pushed ya out, 'n tha's 'bout it."

"What?!" Aunt Geist yelled.

"Just when I thought only her father's heritage was of unknown origins," Parsef said, "now I have to worry about the mother's as well? If you aren't the real parent, then who is?"

"Laura…she doesn't have real parents," Legato stammered.

"She is a clone," Croan said.

"An abomination?" Parsef hissed.

"Oh, ya mean an' abomination like Geist?" Her mom spat back.

"Geist is the exception—"

"Yea, fancy tha'."

"Every other clone has been a mad, twisted parody of the subject!" Parsef yelled.

"Every other clone has been made and raised by chaos," Aevar replied. "Need proof? Look at Geist. Krieg is essentially an army of clones; they're not raised in Chaos, and they turn out just fine. And like them, Laura has never touched Chaos. That puts her a cut above the others you hold up."

"Then who is she made a clone of?" Aunt Lynia demanded. "And why was this xenos witch so interested in her?"

"Well, they got a pretty damn good reason to be interested in her, considering she's a clone of the Emperor."

A massive clash went up just behind Laura. Uncle Kemuel dropped his spear.

"A clone of the Emperor?!" He shouted.

"Must have an echo in here," 'Uncle' Aevar chuckled.

"You, no, this isn't real," Laura said. It felt like the floor was pulled out from under her.

"Laura, please," Aevar said. "I…we never wanted this—"

"I fucking knew it!" Parsef roared. "I trusted you, and you bring this abomination into our world, some sick, twisted experiment that traitors have tried to accomplish? Geist, kill that thing!"

Laura didn't think she could move, but years of training under the assassin made her leap to her feet, away from her assassin aunt. But Aunt Geist didn't move a muscle. It was like she didn't know what to do.

"You do that, you'll probably damn the Imperium to destruction," Aevar said.

"You lie, heretic," Parsef snarled.

"Honest truth," he said, holding his hands up. "If we're talking about secrets, might as well tell you that the Golden Throne is failing. We took an oath to the High Lords, the Mechanicus and the Custodes to never tell you, but this seems like as good a time as any to break that."

"Enough of your lies," Aunt Lynia snapped. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "You lie, you blaspheme, you…you deceive everyone, everyone who's ever cared about you, all to fit your crooked will!"

"The Blasphemer is right," Kemuel said, cautiously kneeling to regain his spear.

"What?"

It was hard to know who spoke first; Parsef, Lynia and Julas all seemed to share one voice.

"It is as they say, the Golden Throne is failing. It is why the Blasphemer and his tech marine brothers were summoned to Terra."

"But…but that is impossible," Aunt Lynia stammered. She stood ram-rod straight with shock, trying to comprehend what was happening, and failing. "It was built by His holy hands. It cannot fail!"

Laura's stomach roiled at that word, at that phrase.

"The Golden Throne is His work, but it was left in the hands of mere mortals, of us who are fallible," Kemuel said. "We have failed to maintain it. How could we? No one could fathom what the Emperor knows."

"We couldn't fix the damn thing," Aevar said. "Not that we didn't try. Trust me, we all pounded our heads against it for a fucking great year, and got nowhere. Less than nowhere. But I thought maybe we could…shit, I don't know what I was thinking.

"A Grey Knight read the Emperor's Tarot to me. Three cards sealed my fate: 'hope, from a discovery, will lead to a champion.' I thought I was that champion, but I can barely do shit for dick."

"You're the Blasphemer, the re-creator of lost relics," Aunt Lynia sputtered. "You…you cloned the Emperor."

"Aye, I had a hand in that, but nearly all of the damn time, I don't know what I'm doing," he said. "I throw shit against a wall and try not to act surprised when it works. Remember the Stanchion of Fall? I took a shit-load of ideas that didn't work out in miniature, scaled them up 'till they were fucking huge, and holy shit, wouldn't you know it, it actually worked! The idea to clone the Emperor was a mad gambit that somehow paid off.

"I'm getting better at figuring out why it's working, sure, but I have no idea most of the time; I'm just an idiot savant, making miracles by pounding crap together. I can't be that champion; that champion should be able to know what they're fucking doing. But then I realized that the reading, 'discovery will lead to a champion,' was meant literally.

"That champion is Laura. That discovery was when Maeva brought this up, to clone the Emperor. And the hope is what we're all running on, because everyone knows what happens when the Emperor dies. Can we all at least agree that the Emperor can't be allowed to die?"

Just hearing that made Laura's skin crawl, like she had to take a shower, or get up and move. Is that all she was? An experiment? A means to an end?

"That would be the true End Times," Legato said. "Daemons, everywhere, feasting on humans. We can't have that. We couldn't have that."

Was her entire life planned out, all for this?

"That is what dragged you down this path of damnation?" Julas demanded. "Why was she even…created? Born?"

"No one can talk to the Emperor," Aevar said. "He's too powerful. I thought that, if we cloned him, maybe that clone would have a fragment of his power, enough to truly talk to him and not have to use the Tarot, then maybe we can fix that damn Throne and keep the Imperium spinning."

"Laura is an exceptionally talented psyker," Aunt Geist said.

"Druid," Helfist corrected.

"Yea, she fuckin' scared Grey Knights when she was a babe, yea?" Maeva added. "Tha's power, ain't it? Think she could talk ta th' Allfather?"

"It…no, it can't be," Parsef said. "No one can talk to the Emperor."

The twisting in her gut returned; it was impatience. They were so close to something, but from what? Finding out her entire life was a lie, a damned experiment? Is this all she was good for, is this all she could aspire to? A replacement Emperor, an emperor by proxy?

"If she was truly the progeny…clone, of the Emperor, she should be able to hear His holy voice, shouldn't she?" Aunt Lynia asked. Laura's gut twisted. "The Emperor has spoken to others in the past, showing them visions, blessings. L-Laura, have you, have you ever…?"

"Heard voices? No, never." She said. Then it hit her. "Revelation."

Her stomach flipped; Revelation was right.

"What?" Julas asked.

"It was Revelation," she said, her heart pounding. "It was the Emperor. Ever since I was a girl, I could tell what he was feeling."

"Wait, ya mean yer imaginary friend?" Maeva asked. "Th' stuffed pup yer Uncle made ya?"

"Yes, that had to be the Emperor."

The feeling in her gut was dancing around with joy.

"He was telling me things, well, making me feel things," she said. "He never spoke, but I knew what he was feeling. Uncle-Sergeant Julas, your history lessons, I…when I told you things felt wrong, that things didn't happen the way you said they did, it was him, Revelation. I had the feeling in my gut that they didn't match up. That was him."

"The Emperor was able to disguise himself from the Primarchs and most mortals," Kemuel said. "It is fully possible he could have somehow sent this knowledge to…to Laura. It would also explain how she could hide herself from other psykers."

"Then let's put this to the test," Parsef said.

"Inquisitor, you must never test the God-Emperor," Aunt Lynia warned.

Laura's stomach heaved; she hated that name. Hated, hated, hated!

"No, Aunt Lynia, it's fine," she said. "I feel that he wouldn't mind."

And it was the truth. The feeling in her stomach was begging to be tested.

Aunt Lynia pulled a deck of tarot cards, and began shuffling them like mad. Her aunt was looking for a level of safety, of security, of anything familiar.

"Draw the cards," she told Parsef. "You…Laura, please, read them to us before they are drawn."

The first card was drawn. Parsef kept it hidden.

"This, it feels like something new," she said, trying to comprehend what the feeling was. "Something…awe inspiring. Of wonder."

The card was flipped, and it was of the Eye of Terror. She could see a fleet of ships floating at the top of the card; the card was upside-down, meaning the inverse of what it stood for.

"I've seen that before," Aevar said, looking over at the card. "It means 'discovery.'"

"The awe of a discovery," Aunt Lynia breathed. "You…this is right."

Parsef drew another card, waiting for Laura. Suddenly she was itching to move. She had stood still for so long, something had to change. She had to get up and get out.

"Moving? Action? I just feel restless."

Parsef placed the card down on the desk. It was a picture of a Space Marine Captain, pointing his sword at some unseen enemy. Around him, ships were flying, following his gesture.

"A crusade?" Aunt Lynia said. "A campaign of battle? Leading an attack?"

"Let's see what the next one has to say," Parsef said, drawing another card.

"Home. I'm homesick."

The card was flipped. It was Holy Terra.

"A crusade to Holy Terra?" The Inquisitor said.

"No, to travel to Terra," Uncle Kemuel said. "A discovery, travel, and Terra. The discovery has to travel to Terra."

"And do what?" Lynia asked.

"Does it really matter?" Croan said. "She is the Emperor reborn. Perhaps she can properly instruct us how to repair the Golden Throne. Perhaps she can…meld with the Emperor, or can otherwise cure him and restore His rule."

"And what shall I tell the High Lords?" Parsef demanded. "That, under my watchful eye, the Blasphemer was somehow able to clone the fucking Emperor, and that we now need to be allowed back upon Holy Terra? They'll brand us traitors before they can finish reading the message!"

"What if we don't say she's the Emperor's clone?" Legato asked. "What if we just say she's the most powerful psyker in the Imperium?"

"Druid," Uncle Helfist corrected.

"Yea, it isn't that far off the truth," Aevar said. "We're just leaving a few things out."

"You leave too much out," Parsef said. "And if she's a clone of the Emperor, why is she female?"

"We couldn't get the Y seed to work," Legato said. "The double-X was the only thing to work."

'The only thing to work?' What was she, some test? Did she have other brothers and sisters who didn't…who didn't live?

"Maybe tha's why she can't hear th' Allfather's thoughts, yea?" Maeva asked. "Ain't completely on th' same brainwave, eh?"

Everything about her life was planned out. Her conception, her birth, her childhood, the lessons she had from the Grey Knights, Uncle Helfist, Aunt Geist, everyone. It was all a damn plan.

"Only know that I approve this because we can't let the Emperor die," Parsef said tensely. Laura's stomach, the Emperor's, jumped with joy. "His death would mean the end of humanity. I'll send word that…that an exceptionally powerful psyker has been found, and her purity was tested and proven in the assault by the Black Legion. She can—she can hear the Emperor, and we can use her to better communicate with Him."

"Tha' mean we get ta go ta Holy Terra?" Maeva asked. "Then we can fix th' damn Throne, yea?"

"I'll explain to the High Lords that with the proper guidance, we can keep the Throne functioning."

"They'll love to see me again," Aevar chuckled dryly.

"We must count our blessings where we can," Lynia said. "Parsef, send word immediately. I…I need a moment. More than a few moments. Laura…can I still call you that? I'm sorry, I just…this is…this is a very special circumstance."

Special.

Brenia was right. Everyone was right. The boys and girls in the convent, the hateful whispers, the rumors…This is all she was: a special, pretty, giant princess, alone from everyone. She stood up, nearly running to the door.

"Laura, love, come on back," the woman claiming to be her mom said.

"Let her go," Aevar said, just as she slammed the door shut. At least he seemed to know what was best. She stormed down the hall, trying not to…to cry? To scream?

A clone. A fucking clone. She wasn't even Fenrisan, she was just some over-grown test-tube experiment made because someone ran out of ideas. Everything in her life was a lie, and they expected her to go along with it, to accept that her life was planned to a 'T.' Her birth, her childhood, everything was laid out for her.

The twisting in her gut, the damn Emperor, was trying to get her to feel relief. Why? Was this his plan all along? To get her to Terra? It was like she never even mattered, it was all about what she could do for the Imperium. They wanted to take and take and take from her until nothing was left, she knew it.

What happened to what she wanted? To find friends, a place where she could be herself. She stopped, leaning against a wall. Just thinking of friends made her think of Dylena. She was the only real friend Laura ever had. What kept her alone was her uncles, her aunts…who even had Space Marines as uncles? No wonder everyone hated her.

She missed Dylena so much it ached. She was more than a friend.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. They were heavy, loud. It had to be one of her fucking uncles. Laura started running, taking turns at random to try and lose him. She stepped up her pace and climbed a few staircases. Soon, she was alone. Her stomach was trying to tell her something, but she ignored it. She went back to walking, idly walking towards the temple's meal hall. For the briefest second, she thought she could lose herself in the crowd.

Then she remembered that she towered over them, how she looked so different from them with no blemishes or scars, how she was the picture-perfect image of humanity. How fucking stupid was she? She'd stand out like a sore thumb; against her perfection, everyone's flaws would be magnified. Laura actually laughed at that. Try to lose a massive, giant princess among them?

She rounded a corner and nearly ran head long into a man. But it was like it was happening in slow motion; she easily got out of the man's way. Then she saw that it was Kruko.

"Laura," he smiled slowly.

"Are you drunk?"

"The sisters are turning a blind eye," he grinned, slurring his words. He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her along. With her newfound size and weight, and his drunkness, it was impossible for him to move her. "Seeing what we went through. Come on, don't leave. The party's here."

"I'm fine," she said frostily.

"Aw, come on, can't you stay a bit for me?" Kruko asked, still holding her hand. He was running his thumb over her hand, feeling it. Almost savoring it. "I'm not a bad guy, once you get to know me. Can't you stay?"

Laura felt like laughing. The only person who'd stay with her was the asshole trying to get into her pants.

"No, I want to be alone." She pulled her hand back, breaking his weak grip.

"But we're celebrating," Kruko begged. "Can't you just stay here? Come on, it'll be fun."

"Does anyone want me to celebrate with them?" She snorted. "I'm the special, giant princess, remember?"

"You mean Brenia?" He slurred. "She's too hammered to care. Lots of the Sisters are. Come on, we just beat back the Black Legion! Loosen up, smile, you're prettier that way."

Fucking dammit, did she want to break him. But he was the only one who didn't treat her like a freak.

"Can't you just celebrate with me?" He begged. "Just the two of us? In…private?"

He might treat her like a simple fuck, a pelt to be hung on a wall, a goal to be achieved, but it would be nice to be treated like anything but a freak.

Her gut twisted, disapproval and disgust rolled into one. That made it even more perfect.

"Where's your room?"