Morgan glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly as he peered about at their surroundings. Behind the Hive doors, the caverns slowly gave way to human architecture, but this showed the vile overgrowth of the Hive, with worm spoor and crystalline structure spreading across almost every surface. What illumination there was came from these crystals, as even the old Braytech down here appeared to be shut down. The only sounds were the fireteam's footsteps as they slowly advanced. He took a deep breath, grimacing at the stench of the Hive growth.

"Don't say it," Rega-7 cautioned him. The Exo did not even turn as she carefully ran her eye along the ruined offices and tunnels before them, sniper rifle raised as she did so. "You were about to make some remark about how quiet it is."

"You do have to admit he has a point." As usual, Wahei piped up with her own commentary, "It is remarkably silent in here. For all the trouble that the Hive went into to seal this place up, and to station a Hive royal here along with at least one abomination, all suggests that they have a particular interest in keeping people out of-"

"Wahei." This time Rega did turn to shoot the Warlock a look. "Just because is quiet in here, is not a reason for you to make it less quiet with your rambling."

"Oho, this isn't rambling," Morgan grumbled. "You haven't been here for one of her real rambles. You get her going on the topic of dream-study or thanatology or Hive-lore or Fallen-lore and she just won't stop talking."

Wahei sniffed haughtily. "Forgive me if I find history and symbology interesting. Not all of us spend our downtime drinking or gambling."

Rega's eye might have twitched if her face had been designed for it. "Not all Hunters are gamblers, Wahei."

There was a thoughtful pause. "Rega, aren't you the one who got roped into babysitting those kinderguardians after a night of carousing with that New Monarchist last month?" Wahei's voice was innocent.

The Hunter paused. "I was assigned to escort duty for some new Lights that had Wall duty." Her voice was carefully neutral. "It might have been within the last month." Another pause. "It might have been after a night out with one of Hideo's clerks."

Wahei pressed on. "And did you happen to spend that night out at the Parlour down in the Peregrine District?"

Another pause. "Yes."

"How much glimmer were you in the hole for?"

Rega pounced on a potential escape. "None!" she declared, triumphant.

Wahei would not be deterred. "And how much silver?" This time, the Exo had the grace to look shifty.

Morgan interrupted, "Eyes up, ladies." He gestured with the barrel of his chaingun as the corridor opened up into a more expansive lobby. While it wasn't as spacious as the Futurescape, it bore all the hallmarks of the Clovis Bray tradition, and appeared to still have some power running. Animated screens were present on nearly surface, though some were cracked, and all of them were running the same idle loop.

"All hail the architects of the future," Rega-7 muttered as she watched the CB logo bounce around the screen. As she spoke, however, it slowed, and a new logo appeared, of a stylized triangle with a circle in the center. Similarly, around the lobby, lights were slowly coming online, screens shifting out of sleep mode.

A bright tenor voice spoke from the air. It was mildly garbled and distorted, as long-disused and partially corrupted machines struggled to function. "We-wel-welcome toooo the U-u-utilizaaaation of-of-of-of-" There was a popping sound, before the AI voice spoke again. "Welcome to the Utilization of Areometallurgic Crystals project, brought to you by the magnificent minds at Clo-clo-Clovis Braaaay Corpor-por-poration." There was another pop and the voice went silent.

Wahei promptly went to a likely looking terminal. "Vizier, see if we can find out what Bray was doing down here." While her Ghost worked to hack into the systems, she considered the screen with the triangle-logo, adding, "There has to be a reason why it's here. I wonder why Rasputin didn't flag this for Ana's attention."

"I don't think anyone really knows what the Old Man is thinking, not even his biggest fangirl." Morgan checked his shotgun again. "Eyeball, try to get us a basic map, if you can?"

Wahei sniffed a bit. "Ana Bray isn't a fangirl. She just happened to violate Vanguard policy in digging into her past, and persisted in investigating old Clovis Bray facilities, necessitating numerous Vanguard-ordered strike missions to curtail enemy interest in their sites, then happened to wake up the Warmind's core processor and in the process awaken a whole Hive cult that had fallen out of record-"

"Not the time, Wahei." Rega shook her head as she turned from her own consultation with her Ghost. "Chaukeedar says he's picking up a lot of Hive movement below us, and-" She paused, registering something that he'd told her, and looked at the green-shelled Ghost again. "-wait, moving away from us?"

Chaukeedar bobbed in the air. "Yes. All of the Hive signatures I've detected are moving deeper into the structure and caverns. Um." He blinked his optic. "At speed, actually."

There was a thoughtful pause. "You mean to say, the Hive are running from us?" Morgan was incredulous. "I mean, if we were the Hivebane, I could understand it..."

"Probably drawing back to regroup and defend." Rega shook her head. "That chain-witch seemed like the sort to play things smart. Why send swarms of Hive after us when she could just wait for us to come to her?"

Wahei called to them, "I think Vizier got some of the corruption in the computer cleared up, let's see if the AI has any more to say."

The hidden speakers emitted another few pops and warbles before it stabilized. Mostly. "The pr-pr-project began when minerrrrraaalogic-ck-ck-cal scans detected c-cr-crystalline structureeeessss deep beneath the Martian surface. Initial anal-nal-nalysiiiissss showed that these crystals emmmmiiiiitted energies of a nature similar to that of the extrasolar en-en-entity known variably as 'Moon X' or 'The Traveler.' Clovis Bray started the UAC project in order to study these crystaaaaaallllsss-" With a pop, the voice cut out.

"You mind translating for those of us that don't speak nerd?" Morgan asked.

Wahei gave him a look, then explained. "Seriously? You're the one who sticks around while I'm talking on one of my so-called 'rambles,' I would have expected you to have picked up something after all this time!" She gestured at the terminal. "Bray was doing some preliminary scans for mining when they detected some crystals that were giving off an energy signature that suggested it was paracausal! There's only two known sources of paracausal energies-"

Morgan held up a hand to interrupt her, then turned to Rega-7. "You mind translating for those of us that don't speak Warlock?"

The Exo shrugged. "Bray found crystals that were emitting space magic. Which means it's either Traveler or it's Darkness." She looked around, "And given all the growth everywhere, I think it's safe to say that Bray found Hive crystals."

Vizier sounded intrigued by something, when the silver-shelled Ghost looked up. "Looks like this project was developing some new tech down here. Possibly some that we could weaponize."

Wahei nodded a bit. "So, our options are to either go find these possible new weapons, or we go full Wei Ning and go straight after the Hive."

Morgan and Rega shared a look. As one, they declared, "Weapons."

Stench. Filth. Spoor. Enemy.

A lone Enemy leveled a boomer. A dash to the side. A leap upward. Hands gripped the crest of the Enemy. A knee lifted up and smashed through bone and muscle. The weapon boomed again into the floor. Concussive force and energy washed by harmlessly. The Enemy broke apart into death ash and wrecked armor.

A door blocked the way. A kick failed to open it. Brows furrowed. No hinges visible. Another kick failed to open the door. Teeth bared. A panel glowed beside the door. A punch smashed it to pieces. A siren blared as the door slid open at last. A snort of annoyance.

A swarm of thralls shrieked. Claws descended to rend flesh. Armor held. A fist grabbed an unlucky one. A swing scattered the rest away. A second swing snapped its spine. It gurgled as a third swing broke necks of its fellows. An elbow crushed another throat. One leapt up and wrapped arms around. Claws raked over a helmet. The broken thing in a hand was cast to the floor. A hand grabbed the thrall by the jaw. A swing over the shoulders and down to the floor. A boot stomped its skull into paste.

Thrall. Weak. Fodder. Feeble.

These were new tunnels. But they were not made of stone. They showed signs of craftsmanship. Manufacture. None of it had the signs of the Enemy. Rubble was strewn about the floor. Screens on the walls were smashed. Grown over with Enemy spoor. Letters were painted on these walls. Arrows pointed the way to destinations. A grunt of decision.

Stretch. Clench. Ready. Hunt.

It was Wahei who called their advance to a halt. "These look like Hive tablets," she noted, indicating a stone wall. For all that Clovis Bray had properly kitted out the project space here, many corridors still had stone walls. Not all of them had been overgrown with Hive development, and the ice had not reached this far down. And this particular wall showed definite signs of having been carved and worked by hands. Hands that weren't human.

Rega-7 sighed. "Wahei, this is not the time for you to bone up on your Hive lore."

The Warlock, however, held up a hand and pointed at the tablets. "These are different. I've been to the Dreadnought probably more than anyone except the Hivebane. I can read Hive runes better than anyone living except for Eris Morn. And these tablets are covered in archival runes, just like the antechamber upstairs." She shook her head. "I didn't have a chance to read much of the ones upstairs, but these... these mention someone."

Morgan shrugged. "Again, we found Nokris' diary. Do we care? We need to track down the chain-witch."

Wahei ignored him, pulling out her journal and thumbed through it. "These tablets might be about her," she reminded him. "Let's see... 'First Age,' 'tainted beyond ascension...'"

"Sounds like Nokris," Rega mused. "He got kicked out by Oryx for heresy, didn't he?"

The Warlock nodded distractedly. "Not so sure this is talking about him, though." She tapped a line of runes, running her fingers down it. "'In his ravenous hatred, he found no peace, and with boiling blood, he scoured the Ascendant Realms seeking vengeance against the sovereigns who had wronged him.'"

Morgan grunted. "Still sounds like Nokris."

"There's runes here that call this person the 'Unchained Predator.'" She glanced back. "Which might be why they have the Queen of Chains here, to try to keep whatever it is contained." She flipped to a blank page in her journal and started jotting down notes, sketching some of the runes as she went.

Their Titan groaned. "Well, that's just great. You called that ogre upstairs a 'baby abomination,' and now it turns out there might actually be a full-grown one down here?"

Vizier had been studying the runes along with her Guardian, then suddenly shined her light on one string. "Wahei! Look at this line! 'In his crusade, the Sky bestowed upon him terrible power and speed, and with his might, he crushed the dread totems of the Grave Temples.'" The Ghost looked down at the Warlock. "You realize what that could mean?"

The Awoken breathed out. "A Guardian." Turning to her comrades, she explained, "'The Sky' is what the Hive call the Light, or the Traveler."

Rega-7 blinked. "Wait. A Guardian? Sealed away down here? That's impossible."

"Why's it impossible?" Wahei spread her hands. "Guardians are immortal as long as they have their Ghosts. And even if their Ghosts die, the Guardian themselves still lives until something kills them. Eris Morn proved that. She spent centuries trapped in the Hellmouth before she managed to escape."

"Eh, not the best example." Morgan's face twisted into a grimace. "We don't know what Eris had to do to survive down there. Not that I ever really want to find out."

"Er..." They turned to look at Vizier again. The Ghost contrived to look worried, insofar as a machine with no face could. "I just found another line here... 'They carved his name in the tablets of the Deep across eons, and each battle etched terror in the hearts of the Hive. They knew he would come, as he always had, as he always will, to feast on the worms of the wicked.'" Vizier made a gulping sound before continuing, "'For he alone could draw strength from his fallen foes, and ever his power grew, swift and unrelenting.'"

"Ya see?" Morgan shook his head. "I'm not deep on Hive-lore like you, but even I know that sounds like sword logic."

Rega peered at the slab thoughtfully. "If this Guardian or whoever he was grew so powerful, how did they manage to capture him?"

"The chain-witch," Morgan suggested. "You said there was probably a reason she was here."

Wahei pointed to another line, further down the slab. "Yeah, right here. 'Insatiable, he sought prey in the tombs of the Grave Keep. Blinded by his fervor, the lure drew him in.'" She ran her fingers down the runes, then tapped them. "Yeah, they collapsed the temple down on him, and sealed him away." She read further, "'The mark of the Slayer was burned upon his crypt, a warning to all Hive that the terror within must not be freed. There he lies still, and ever more, in silent suffering.'"

It was their Hunter who spoke next, after a thoughtful silence. "I think maybe we know why the Hive were drawing back into the complex." She looked at them. "They weren't running away from us. They were running to deal with the larger threat."

Acolytes got in the way. Shredder bolts splashed off of armor. A fist crunched into the nearest's face. An elbow snapped an arm. Fingers dug into an acolyte's eye sockets. Tore the face clear off the head. The broken arm was torn off. Smashed into another's neck. A boot cracked a leg. The knee rose into and through a chest.

Acolyte. Cunning. Desperate. Pathetic.

This room was contained. Still strewn with rubble and festooned with Enemy filth. There were remains here. Not of the Enemy. Bones and desiccated flesh partially buried in the muck. Ruined armor strapped to some of the bodies. Something else was there. Rusted metal and pitted material hewn into a familiar shape.

Barrel. Handle. Trigger. Gun. Weapon.

An examination proved it was broken. Little more than a weight. An Enemy roared. A sword swung and was evaded. The ruined gun was reversed in a fist. The handle hammered down into the knight's wrist. It crunched from the impact. It roared again and ate the butt of the gun as it smashed past teeth. Another smash and the knight's jaw came loose. A third smash blinded one of its eyes. It began to crumple away. The sword clattered to the ground. A fourth smash bent the knight backward. A glance showed the gun had shattered as well.

It was thrown away. A punch smashed through the knight's chest. Fingers closed on the wriggling shape of its worm. It squirmed in an iron grip. It bit desperately at the fist as it was wrenched into the open. It was crushed with a shrill cry. A rush of satisfaction.

Knight. Warrior. Aggressive. Pitiful.

There. A container, positioned vertically. What was the word. A locker. Trapped in Enemy spoor. Door stuck fast. The sword served a use. It pried open the locker. Within there were more weapons. In better condition than the other. These would suffice. Another knight charged in. The sword was thrown into its face. The knight fell with only one half of a head. Death-ash scattered across the floor.

Weapons were examined. Most were in poor condition. A knife of considerable heft was found to still have an edge. A pistol was found of sufficient quality and condition. But all the rest were partially crushed beneath Enemy crystal growth, or corroded by the filth. Even a sturdy looking scattergun looked partially melted. The Enemy had wanted none of the prey here to arm themselves. A growl of frustration.

Fist. Knife. Gun. Enough.

In the sacred penumbral depths of the Ascendant Plane, knelt within a circle of runes, Kateäk marshaled her words, her power, he will. As a member of a royal court, she was powerful enough to carve holes in reality and travel into these planes to commune with those above her. With a curl of claws, she sent her power and her will to call out to her Sovereign.

The plane around her changed, shifted. With one eye, the witch saw the cracked and shattered stones of a world torn asunder, littered with the broken refuse of what had once been. With a second eye, there was in the same space an expanse, akin to a vast chamber, lined with attendants and supplicants. With a third, there was a singular shape, behind which roiled the formlessness of the true Deep. The Queen of Chains saw which of these things were true and which were false, and also that they were all at once true and false.

She felt the pressure of a dreadful attention upon her. Kateäk had felt this before, many times, but even generations and aeons removed from such ancestry, the part of her that had evolved from the krill quailed in the gaze of the predator. And as she had done many times before, she lashed her fears in chains and dragged them away, lifting her gaze into the ruin/hall/abyss before her. "He is loose."

There was a sound in the air- a shift of the rubble, or the stirring upon a distant high seat, or a breath in the depths. There were no words, but Kateäk heard the question regardless. The Sovereign above her demanded to know how such a thing was allowed to come to pass.

She bared her teeth, the hatred cold on her tongue. "Lightborn. Guardians found the sepulcher. Their Light awoke him."

Another sound. A rumble ahead of an avalanche. A clenching of thousands of fists. A suction on the edge of a singularity. The Sovereign expressed displeasure at the failure of the singular task to which she had been set.

She lowered her head in acknowledgment of her failure, but kept her gaze upon the impossibility of the ascendancy before her. "He will not be allowed to escape the tombs. I know the dangers."

Another sound. A susurration like serpents across stone. A muted chorus of chuckles. A tone like a string in high tension. The Sovereign was amused at how little she actually knew, of the danger of the Slayer's freedom, of the danger of the Slayer's wrath, of danger itself.

She opened her mouth to speak into the blessed darkness again, but there was a noise. The sundering of continents. The smack of a palm on the arm of a throne. The shrieking death of a star pulled into oblivion. The Sovereign ordered her silence.

Kateäk finally allowed her gaze to drop, feeling the krill-fear wriggling in its chains. To disobey those above her was beyond her ability. She would be fed to her worm and her worm would feed her Sovereign. There was nothing to do but wait the brief eternity while the one above her seethed.

At last, a response. A breeze through grave-grass. A murmur of the court. A whisper from the darkness. The Sovereign questioned whether the ritual spaces were still intact in the tombs. When Kateäk confirmed that they were, she then perceived a shifting. Shadows moving among the stones. Figures stepping from around a distant throne. Shapes emerging from the formless depths. Then, she saw the three champions stood before her, sheathed in adamantine armor. She knew them all. They had been present and helped lay the trap that had sealed the Slayer away.

She looked to the first, whose skull's crest stretched wide, whose claws gripped a cleaver sharpened in the heart of a dying sun. "Üles Matu, Blade Unbreaking."

She turned to the second, whose crest swept backward, then curled back around into two sharp points, whose palm rested on the butt of an axe. She had seen entire armies felled beneath its swing. "Yaad Matu, Force Unyielding."

She faced the third, who still bore the scars of the battle in ages past. His crest swept up into wicked horns, but one of these had been broken off. The cracks in his armor from the blows he had taken had been repaired, but the markings were still there. One eye burned dimmer than the others, and his fist clenched tighter on the boomer in his hand. "Baalgar, Rage Unrelenting."

The three champions all looked at her, then Üles Matu and Yaad Matu turned their gazes into the darkness beyond. Only Baalgar did not look round as sound came out again. A clattering of stones on cobble. A peal of gathered laughter. A scraping of a blade on a taut wire. The Sovereign anticipated amusement as she was ordered to bring the three champions to the mortal plane, to bring low the Slayer once again, and bind him again in darkness.

The Queen of Chains bowed before rising up into the air again. There was one final noise from the maelstrom. A hiss of the stalking serpent in the long grasses. A growl of the court's multitude. A gnashing of burning matter and stardust. The Sovereign added that she had best kill the Lightbearers too.

"They will not be allowed to rise again."

The storm of conflicting realities settled back into the cemetery realm of shadow. As one, the champions turned back to face her. Üles Matu saluted her with his sword before thrusting it into the ground and kneeling to her. "My blade has served. It will continue to serve."

Beside him, his brother Yaad Matu raised his axe in salute as well, before resting it down and kneeling as well. "You shall have my axe, that it may crush those before you."

And finally, the Rage Unrelenting stirred. Broken fangs snarled in anticipation as he raised his boomer to the shadows above, clasping a fist over his scarred chest. The ground shook slightly as the titanic champion Baalgar bent the knee. "He shall not escape again."

Afterword: To those hoping to see the Slayer run into the Guardians in this chapter, my apologies, but I need to build up to the moment, I think. I'll admit that when I first started putting down ideas for this almost a year ago, it had no direction to it. But I think I know where this story will go now. Stay tuned, constant readers!