The bucket of chemical proteins now empty and discarded, Jago Sevatarion sits back, eyes open as he draws in his perceptions, sealing away his extra sense.

Not for any nefarious reason, or to hide himself from a passerby.

He merely wishes to experience the blackness of his cell with his own eyes, feeling its oppressive blackness wash over him like a shroud.

The experience of it all, he mused to himself, was considerably lessened when one could sense what lay inside it. If he was a lesser man, he might have just said it lost a special kind of magic. But he was not a lesser man, he was a Night Lord. He was the creature that lay inside its hidden depths. He was the one who watched the prey as it desperately peered out into it, hoping to glimpse his form, and yet hoping they would not.

So much could be said about the nature of darkness, he mused. Poets and iterators tried to capture its essence in tale after tale of its wrongness, of its corruption, of its base evil. And tale after tale got it wrong. Perhaps none who were not born of the depths of Nostramo would ever be truly enlightened of its nature.

Enlightened. That earned him a chuckle. Enlightened of the darkness. An irony if ever there was one.

But the darkness was not an evil. It was power.

Evil could, and often was, committed in light as easily as darkness. Oftentimes, the ones with money and power, the ones with the ability to commit such evils, were the ones who could afford electricity.

Could it be said then, that light was evil? He wouldn't know, he laughed. He'd have to feel it first.

No, darkness was, is not evil. It is power. Relief, sanctity, protection, the darkness hid a man from view. That man could use that lack of sight to do many things, for it was power.

A man could use that power to do many things though. He could use it to escape his foes, or beat a young girl to death.

Evil, Sevatar summated, came from the application of power.

But what application of power was evil? What if the man was a serial killer? What if the young girl was a serial killer? A complicated quandry, to be sure. Sevatar knew that his legion, and others often differed in opinions. He knew that those of the sons of Dorn, for one, almost came to blows over these differences. But who had been right?

Sure, the obvious choice for many lay in the honourable conduct of the Imperial fists. Proud, dignified, proper, fighting nobly against the enemy armies and breaking them upon the anvil of war. Wheras his legion hit indescriminantly of age or occupation, taking people and torturing them to death in the most horrific ways they could think of.

But for all their unpalatable actions, his legion had killed less then any other legion by orders of several exponents. There were compliance campaigns that existed in records with casualty ratings that were more then the entire number of those dead by his legion over the entire crusade. Which one of us was the real evil. Those men, women and children died in torment, but their screams saved millions, if not billions each. Millions of men, women and children who would live on, who would survive and leave their legacy in whatever form it may, and then die in peace, having lived a full life.

At least, that had been the original point of it all, anyway.

Evil, categoric evil, was a subjective thing, he concluded. And because it was a subjective thing, it may as well not exist in this secular, scientific world.

He laughed, a hard bark that echoed around his cell. And yet so much was built around the concept of good and evil despite it.

Some things, just escape categoric definition.

"Jago..."

All thoughts go, replaced by a blade of focus at the voice. She was in pain, more pain then before.

"I am here little one. What happened?"

"...It was waiting for us." She continued, her ghostly voice wavering.

"What was?"

"The warp. As soon as we communed, it cut us off, risked stranding us in the soul storm. I barely managed to get some of us out, but a good many didn't make it."

"I'm sorry to hear it little one." He tried to sound comforting, but the concept was unfamiliar to him. "But relax, you are safe now. Does this mean you will not be attempting to reach Terra now?"

"No. More reserves are being pulled. We won't commune for perhaps a day, but then we try again. I'm scared."

The words give Jago Sevatarion pause. He'd never heard those words before. He knew what they meant, but he'd never heard them. All his childhood he'd been alone, save for his Crows. Then in the legion, he'd been surrounded by only the toughest from Nostramo. Fear was already forgotten to them before they became astartes. Then, it was impossible. For they were fear.

But to hear her say it, reminded him that fear was a real emotion. One that people dealt with every day, and that for all she had done and said, she was just a little girl.

"It's okay little one. Tell me, did you do as I asked?"

"Y-Yes. I'm scared Jago. The reserves are not nearly as powerful or proficient as the others, and the warp grows more dangerous every attempt."

"Hush now. If all goes well, you won't need to enter the warp again."

"...What do I need to do?"

"In a few hours, I'm going to need you to pay close attention to me Altani. When my captors visit me again, I do not intent to stay here. When I leave, an alarm will be raised. As soon as it is, I will need you to use that mind of yours to get yourself out of there."

"But how Jago?"

"The same way you saved me. You have the power to stop twelve astartes in their tracks, one of which is a librarian, from half a ship away. You should have no trouble with the minds of men in the same room."

"But can't you come to me?"

"I will try, Altani. But I need to get my armour and my weapons first, before they are locked away, and considering my last little romp, they will likely send some interruptions with bolters up your way, in precaution."

"So how am I supposed to get past them? Need I remind you I can't walk?"

"You can get someone to carry you, or simply lift yourself past the frozen knights to a place where you can hide until I find you. Of curiosity, what ranking of psyker are you child?"

"They say I'm a Beta-Majoris."

He reclined his head. A Beta class psyker. The most potent a human psyker could be before suffering damage to the brain and loosing what little sanity one could claim. He knew astropaths needed to be particularly potent psykers, but a Beta-Majoris.

"Impressive little one. But now, get some rest. You likely won't get much chance in the next few days, so do so now."

"Okay. Thank you Jago."

"For what, little one?"

"For helping me."

And like that, she was gone, and Jago let his eyes close, and calmed his beating hearts in focus.