So I recently saw a review that at the end asked me to ensure that my future stories are lengthy, and I doubt that will be an issue going forward, currently this story is over 120 pages and that's including the chapters I've not uploaded yet. Unless they're talking about individual chapters, or just being sarcastic. Anyway I'll just keep writing while also pondering that, here's hoping you guys enjoy this chapter.


Chapter 9: Resolve

I suspect that many who have yet to truly know me, believe that I am an angry, reckless, and ignorant soul, while I am sure there are many instances that have led them to this misconception, in truth I have done very little to dissuade them of it. I know for certain that many of the Mechanicum are amongst my most vocal of critics, and while that has bothered me little, the voices of opposition found in the Silent Sisterhood has concerned me. Understand that although being in the presence of their negative psychic aura is painful, I have nothing but respect for the Sisters, and have often requested a deployment of their order when facing worlds with powerful psychic opposition. Does that surprise you? Is it truly hard to understand why a psycker such as myself approves and values the Emperor's feared "witch-hunters" who have a known prejudice against the psychically gifted? If so then allow me to elaborate.

In a sense, the Sisters of Silence embody the founding principle of the Wild Hunt, to find and destroy dangerous rogue psyckers who would abuse their powers to enslave others. True, our methodology is vastly different, but I see no reason why our forces cannot coordinate our efforts for the good of the Imperium. I fear their opinion that most psyckers are too great a threat, is a result of the sole purpose of their order, and have painted each psychically gifted soul with the same hatred for those warp twisted sorcerers. I also believe that my brother Magnus has done little to dispel this notion, his insistence that those who fear the powers of psyckers do so only out of ignorance, and I must admit that I am tired of hearing that arrogant statement. A psycker is dangerous, there is no question about that, nor is it questionable that the powers we wield can benefit mankind, yet to disregard the fears of our allies and label them ignorant fools does more harm than good. Not even I, with all my knowledge of various psychic disciplines, would never dare to say that there are no risks when using psychic powers, for even with the vast knowledge at the Imperium's disposal, still we know barely a fraction of both psychic powers or the warp itself. True I would not be able to give a fully satisfactory answer for this declaration, and still claim to follow the literal meaning of the Imperial Truth, but none can deny the truth when I say we still understand very little of warp and its nature.

Where Magnus and his Thousand Sons would fearlessly traverse the Warp in search of secrets and knowledge, the Bale Hounds and myself are far more restrained in our exploration of the Warp. Such psychic journey's of knowledge are given time limits, and without fail a Librarian must return their focus to the material realm. Perhaps so will call to question the wisdom of even allowing such journeys in the first place, and they are not entirely wrong, for there are still risks even with the laws my Librarians are subject to, but to this day we have not lost a single one to the madness of the warp. It is because of this, that both Bale Hound librarians and myself do not have the same raw psychic power of Magnus and his legion, that we are free of the curse of the physical mutations that plague the XVth legion. I have no doubts that the problem is both a psychic and genetic issue, I believe that Magnus' geneseed produces the most potent psyckers in all the twenty legions, but I fear that their unrestrained usage of their powers is what accelerate or instigate the physical mutations with their legion. Yet, whenever I try to explain this theory to Magnus he dismisses it as nothing more than a grasping of straws, for his own genetic structure is still pure, as is the Emperor's the greatest psycker of humankind. I love my brother, but even I must admit that he is one of the more arrogant of us, and believes he holds all the answers to life's mysteries. When he behaves in such a manner, it is the most tiresome annoyance, yet I will endure it because he is my brother, and we are united in our talent for the gift.

With that having been said, I cannot deny that there is far too much that we have yet to fully understand, and I do not simply mean psychic matters. We still do not understand why so many of the Men of Iron turned against humanity, was it an eventuality, or was it caused by an outside force? How did so many human colonies develop so many adaptive mutations in such a relatively short time during the era of Old Night? Keep in mind minor physical adaptations will occur over the course of a species existence, typically in response to better adapt to their environment, but from my understanding such changes take millennia, not centuries. Yet one question that I have yet to even come close to getting a satisfying answer to, is how the Emperor created us Primarchs? I understand that my father claims that he did so through difficult yet advanced genetic sciences, but I do not believe that we are solely crafted from only his genetics. On top of that, there is very little I am able to convey about my own biology, and so I entrusted the legion's master apothecary to study my physiology whenever an opportunity presents itself. I do not care for him to study my genetic structure, instead I have him focus on the function of my internal organs, and thus far he is baffled by his findings. I would list them here, but I do not yet fully understand the date either, perhaps one day Master Apothecary Emrick Caddell and I will one day solve the mystery that is my body.

It is my hope that when humanity is better able to answer these various questions, that the species will be ready for learning the truth behind the warp, and that our legions of space marines will be able to protect it as it marches towards our future. Yet, there are days when I wonder if we are worthy of such aspirations, especially when faced with some of the horrible atrocities that those of the more advanced human societies we are forced to face. There have been too many of those societies, building their cruel legacies with cold oppression and casual disregard for any life that was not of their elite class. True the Emperor's hands are clean, but he does not solely rely on breaking the spirits of his subjects, and most of the world's under our banner have prospered. I am not blind to the difficulties that are faced by the worlds who did not join willingly, and I can sympathize with those whose sole "crime" was mutual trade with other species in order to survive. However there are plenty who stunted their people's growth, through the practice of segregation or oppressive religions, and those are not the worst that I had seen.

I believe there was no finer example than the world of Myrakro, according to ancient Terran archives, the planet was once a prosperous academic world, yet when Old Night fell its people regressed violently. Its beautiful cities became not but ruins, and the once prosperous individuals organized their cults dedicated to insanity and survival, some even practiced cannibalism. While their technological level was a few centuries behind our own, the cults had accumulated powerful, yet unstable, psyckers, and some of them had touched the cancerous darkness with the Warp. Believe me when I tell you, that had it not been for them capturing and enslaving nearby human colonists, I would have killed them all from orbit, yet I am thankful that even after Morrigan's death I had not grown so cold.

Orbital bombardment was then designated purely as a last resort, and I knew that with the horrors that lay in wait upon the surface, only the Silent Sisterhood could be called upon for such a campaign. I did not need the warnings of prophecy, or to traverse the whispers of the warp, to suspect that the dark ones had taken control of Myrakro. The pict feeds displaying the seared symbols into their ships and armor told me that much, and I requested three companies each from the 1st, 3rd and 21st Hosts along with their most senior librarians for the war. Many might question the wisdom in having psyckers brought to combat those born of the warp's darkness, and to them I feel that I must remind them of ancient Terran wisdom, sometimes you must fight fire with fire. True that darkness can take root easier in the souls of psyckers, but when one is iron disciplined in body, mind, and soul, then they are able to resist the dark cancerous temptations. While this is by no means, as surely reliable as the continued purity of a pariah warrior, it is a far more common resource than you could imagine. Despite this fact, you will be shocked at the lengthy debate I had with both the Sigillite and Emperor to convince them both separately that my most trusted and senior Librarian were viable selections for counteracting the sorcery of the cultists.

I suspect Dame Commander Miri, the ranking knight of the Silent Sisterhood sent by the order, in command of five hundred of her sister warriors, knew of my debates with the Imperium's masters, and glared daggers aimed for my heart since she first laid eyes upon me. She was beautiful, even with half her face obscured, and her hair shaped into a warrior's top knot, her eyes were shining grey emeralds, they were also the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. Her presence grated upon my sixth sense, stirring unwarranted irritation towards her every movement, but I had been building up a tolerance for null presences ever since the first war I led my legion into. I had also studied their many voiceless tongues, requiring no interpreter but allowed one's presence at our private strategy meeting, and did my best to not react to the insults her sisters signaled while discussing me. Some referred to me as a "well-tamed sorcerer dog" ; those were perhaps the hardest barbed insults to ignore, yet I managed to tolerate them in dignified silence, and found it hilariously ironic that despite taking vows of silence the sister had plenty to say. It was only later I realized they were so "vocal" over the insult I leveled at them for meeting them without an honor guard or clad in power armor, despite their lethality towards psyckers. Strange how gestures of goodwill and trust can be perceived so terribly.

"You've my thanks for heeding my call, Commander Miri," I greeted sincerely, "Please accept my offer of soothing jade Arcadian herbal teas as my thanks." I saw the micro-movements of facial expressions that indicated surprise registering on Miri's sisters. Clearly Miri was the only one of her sisters who had heard of my hospitality for all my temporary allies, but still she wore that harsh glare aimed towards me. I briefly wondered if Miri's voice was as beautiful as her features, even as she signed her words, but I barely listened to the interpreter focusing on Miri instead.

"Yet you do not wish us to board the command bridge, Lord of the IInd." Even with being able to feel the echoes of her emotions, I could pick up on the sarcasm in her usage of my legal title, and ignored any emotion that bubbled within as a response.

"Forgive me," I humbly offered, "But I wished to talk privately while assuring you that I truly appreciate the speed in answering our call for aid. Also we may converse freely in this room, while exchanging wisdom and forming our battle plans." Miri knew what I was implying, I suspect it is common knowledge amongst their ranks to know the lie of the Imperial Truth, and that I was one of the only Primarchs who knew as well. For those wondering how the Emperor could entrust them with such a secret when he had decided to leave the rest of my Primarch brothers in ignorance, I ask you to ponder how my father could not trust them? Unlike most of humanity, the only darkness that could grow within their hearts can only be born as a result of the cruelty inflicted by ignorant human neighbors. I was not worried for the safety of their interpreter, for they were servator mono-tasked for their assigned task.

"You do not wish to see us bend to your command?" She asked the glare softening slightly from her surprise. I first answered her with a shake of my head, hoping my face showed my honesty.

"I wouldn't dare to demand the obedience of the Imperium's most renowned witch hunters," I replied, "Yours is an order that has excelled in the craft like no other. Not even the Space Wolves or Death Guard can match your expertise in war against warp sorcery, and I've wanted to fight alongside you knights for a while now." That earned more visible reactions from Miri and her sisters, eyes wide with shock, as they could hardly believe what I had confessed to them. I could tell Miri then scoured my features for any hint of deception, and I assure that there was no deception in my words. As I have said before, I once used Blanks as assassins in the Wild Hunt, and ever since the unexpected increase in warp powered sorcerers, both human and alien alike, I had wanted to wage war alongside the Silent Sisters. I desired this alliance for two reasons, the first was the hope that it would lessen the casualties of my warriors against such foes, the second was to ensure that there would be a force to keep the librarians and myself in check. I am sad to say that this dream of mine has remained just that, a dream.

"You are a strange one, Third Son," Miri signed awkwardly but quickly, "Not even the Pale King is so welcoming of our kind."

"Well I've never worn a crown," I joked, "Nor am I too enraptured by my gifts that I don't see the concern it causes others." Again I left the sisters uncertain of how to respond to my words. If they had expected me to behave more similar to Magnus then I was surely disappointing them, but I stood patiently waiting for a response. To her credit, it did not take Miri long to formulate a response.

"If you have brought any unprepared," she threatened, "Then we will kill them ourselves rather than watch them become twisted nightmares." Despite the burning desire to snap at her for the threat, I nodded calmly, before offering them a light meal as I shared all the intelligence we had gathered with them. The sad truth was we did not have much to go off of, all we knew for certain was that the cultists had retained the capability of void travel, and were most likely outfitted with weapons ranging from slug throwers to low grade las guns. Beyond that we could only speculate as to what level of armored support they could deploy, and it would be a guessing game to rate the strength of their sorcery with only the testaments of haunted survivors. We knew next to nothing of the cult hierarchies, or any distinct differences that we should have been made aware of, only that they had amassed impressive numbers for the raid but other than that there was so little else to piece together any other insights, even for a primarch. Even with my experience against the Sorcerer Kings, I was stumped, those misguided fools only had a fraction of the resources that these cultists possessed, I would not be surprised if they had any warp spawn under their control, but without a reliable witness to recall the enemy's forces, I had to defer to the Sisters' experience.

Commander Miri wasted very little time in scanning through the data we had collected, and after a moment handed it to her sisters, before once again glaring at me as she signed. She criticized the lack of tactical insights drawn from the reports, even questioning why I had not deployed a scout or specialized forward recon unit to investigate. I informed her the difference between sending infiltrators to a walled city versus sending a single squad alone to investigate an entirely hostile world, and I would not needlessly send warriors to their deaths. I believe she would have called me weak, until I asked her if she would have sent a lone knight on such a similar mission. Tactically, it is more a suicide than recon mission, and with such a low chance of successfully gathering the necessary data, it is no choice at all really. There is no question that Miri understood this, because she ceased her criticism of my methods for the moment, instead asking what plans I had drawn up first. I informed her that the Fleet Masters had calculated a strong invasion formation on the off chance we encountered orbital defenses, and that I had over three hundred space marines, twenty four senior librarians, and one hundred terminator veterans. My plan was to split the librarians amongst the tactical and terminator squads, in the hopes of the librarians being able to act as a deterrent against the cultists' sorcery, and I would act similarly for my command squadron. We would be supported by Rhinos, Razorbacks, Land Raiders vehicles, and ten Astartes Dreadnoughts to ensure we had our own armored support. The Commander wanted to know how she and her sisters fitted in my plans, which admittedly is a generous title for this order of battle I composed, but I told her that I wished to hear how they would handle this campaign.

She began by signing that they would have deployed planet killers, if the cultists had not taken throne loyal citizens, then continued by stating that she would have designated a splinter of sisters to long ranged observations. Their mission would be to identify popular communal gatherings to be treated as priority targets of destruction, before tasking a small squad with searching for the hostages and evaluating if they could still be saved, or if they required the Emperor's peace. I would never condemn mercy killing, the Wild Hunt performed many upon warp twisted slaves, and believe me when I say their pained existence before death could fill countless pages of records. One should never deliver the Emperor's peace, a rather ill fitting name in my opinion, with relish or glee, it is a somber and unfortunate necessity of the war we wage. Miri continued listing how she and her sisters would typically adapt to a war zone with some many uncertainties, and a plan began to take shape in my mind.

"Commander, are you opposed to joint units?" I started, "I don't have enough librarians to ensure the safety of all my warriors, if they have more sorcerers or warp spawns, but if you are willing to assign two or three of your sisters to the remaining units, I believe they'd be an effective spearhead." She no longer seemed surprised, instead she was rather impressed by my requests for joint cooperation, but I could read a lingering trace of doubt in her gaze.

"Are not the rumors of your sons' gifts, true?" She asked, and shames me that I have not mentioned this within this record until now. The geneseed of my legion is, well, unique to say the least. It is not as unstable as Magnus', nor as pure as L'ion El, Roboute, or Horus' but it is remarkably pure. Despite this genetic purity, the number of psyckers that appear in my legion is greater than most, save for the XVth, however another percentage develop some minor psychic gifts, yet they lack the potential to become full Librarians. Some have developed an instinctive sense of unseen dangers, and quicker reaction speeds, my warriors call this the Warding. Others have developed an uncanny ability to detect those tainted by the cancerous dark of the warp, and taken to calling it the Pure Sight. Finally, a much rarer and more randomly developed gift which my Apothecaries still cannot determine the cause of, it is called the Hero's Last, it allows my warriors to endure or ignore fatal wounds longer than normal Astartes and fight a glorious last stand. To this date, none who have displayed the Hero's Last have been able to be entombed into a dreadnought, and the viability of their progenoid glands varies from case to case. According to the finds of the Apothecarium, these gifts are not a result of genetic or warp corruption, but rather a natural psychic development within the geneseed.

Of course once these developments were discovered, I had every single legionnaire who had developed one of these gifts to learn the ballads and mantras of purity and control, as I did not need them being easy targets for possession. I had only shared my knowledge of these developments with a trusted select few, three of my brothers chief among them, but I knew better than to suspect an oathbreaker, instead it told me that Malcador had discovered this secret of my legion. If Malcador had discovered it, then at the very least the Sisterhood had been made aware, and there is no doubt in my mind that the Emperor was made aware as well. While that was a concern, I was confident that when compared to the genetic deviations in other legions, such as the XIth and XVth legions, would make the strange new developments of my geneseed seem far more tolerable. However, there were a number of gifted amongst the forces I had chosen to persecute this war, and they would no doubt be hindered in the presence of the Silent Sisters, but such an issue was easy enough to solve.

"My warriors are flexible," I assured her, "If you agree to this intermingling unity, then you have my word none of your sisters will be forced to fight alongside any psychically gifted." After a few tense moments of silence, during which Miri's eyes scoured my face for any sign of something she did not like, but after a while she signed her consent to the idea, promising a single veteran and two promising of her sister knights to each of the formations of my Astartes. She then admitted that I was nothing like she or her sisters had been expecting, and unable to resist the urge, I both thanked and complimented her in perfect thought mark, earning a bewildered look from her sisters. We soon departed the small chamber, before journeying to the main strategic deck, and deliberated with the other commanders of this campaign. In truth there were only ship captains, Astartes officers, and astropaths in attendance, I could not risk exposing any of the Imperial Army or Titan Legion personnel to the corrosive darkness we would face on the world's surface. The Retribution would be leading the void fleet's charge, and the captain had calculated an efficient blockade formation to ensure no vessel could leave the planet without authorization. A small part of me felt guilty for leaving these trusted men and women in the dark about what we would face, but at the same time I knew the truth would either damn them, or cause an unnecessary security risk.

True to my word, I personally ensured that there were no gifted in the units that would have to integrate Sisters in the ranks, and provided the Sisters all with ritually negatively charged bolter rounds, which my legion had created to better fight sorcerers and warp spawn alike. The sisters were appreciative of the offer, and despite the obvious discomfort many of the warriors felt in their presence, none, not even the Librarians, treated them with anything but respect. They even offered the Sisters to partake in the ritual of Battle Oaths, and witness the tradition of champions having their armor marked by the Librarians. As I have stated before, most of the Librarians in my legion were trained in the spiritual practices of their homeworld's, and performed rites before we took to battle. The Arcadians painted woads of the appropriate totems upon the champions' armor plates, while the Librarians recited songs and poems in their native tongue. The Mictlan Librarians offered their champions to eat the hearts of foes, in honor of their ancient belief that consuming the hearts of enemies added to their own strength and honor. They also marked the champions with tribal war paint preserving their warrior culture, but they had begun adopting the animal totems and so the markings crudely depicted the animals.

The Librarians are each equipped with prototype power armor that are psychically warded, arm mounted bolters, and outfitted with nemesis force weapons. My legion had discovered the STCs that had been used in the creation of the prototype armor, and the creation of nemesis grade force weapons had been started on Arcadia before Imperial smiths refined it. To my working knowledge, no other legion has implemented either of our creations, which I find odd as Malcador had requested detailed copies of all our findings and notes, but I doubt I would ever get a straight answer if I asked Malcador about it. Each Captain knelt, with their blades drawn, before a Librarian who took their spoken oaths to slay enemy commanders and destroy any blasphemous religious sites. I believe Miri found that particular oath ironic, I suspect that from her perspective were religious warriors, such is a common misinterpretation of my legion's more spiritual practices. Again I cannot stress that none of my legion would dream of worshiping a deity, as many of them had witnessed the evils of such worship, instead we seek to embody aspects of the human spirit through animal avatars and ask for the protection of fallen allies. Remember, the legion embraces the spirit of the Imperial Truth, not its literal intent, even then I believe that sets us leagues apart from those who have worshiped the Emperor as a god in secret.

When the fleet had translated into the system, it was soon met by a token defense fleet of smaller vessels, which was mostly destroyed in the opening salvo of fire from our small fleet. None were able to escape from the fleet's wrath, and soon we took orbit over Myrakro, which lacked any orbital defense platforms, but had plenty of anti-air defenses. We countered this by teleporting terminator squads to the most visible AA Guns, after they fell shortly we deployed drop pods and gunships. The cultists were perfect exemplars of the madness that grips the minds of those who covet and worship the darkness of the warp, they left high flammable fuel nearby the AA defenses, wore dyed leather human skin as uniforms, and used plasma weaponry that should have exploded on their first shot. As we expected they utilized insane violent warp spawns that cut through both forces alike, while the common cult fighter had at least one inhuman warp mutation, from copper horns, rotted bloated flesh, tentacle limbs, or extra limbs that were dramatically elongated. There sorcerers were powerful, but they were nothing compared to my librarians or the silent sisters, who claimed the death of the first sorcerer, while my librarians erected invisible psychic barriers around themselves and the squads they had been assigned to, batting away any sloppy attempts to control their brothers. Once the first dreadnought had entered the battle for the main landing site, the cultists' morale had finally broken, and began to flee wildly from the field. For the most part we let them flee, confident that their deaths were a certainty thanks to our righteous fury, but we still shot a few in the back while they ran for their lives. A malformed naked man child with pale blue skin, an unnaturally bloated head with mismatched buggy eyes, human meat strung from his maw, and the crackle of warp sorcery danced around his body. Even I could feel the overwhelming power of the accursed mutant sorcerer, as he tried to find purchase into the minds of our warriors, but I stopped tolerating him as he tried to focus himself into my mind.

Somehow he had found trace memories of Morrigan, and tried to drape himself in an illusionary disguise of her appearance, pleading for me to save her. I feel no shame in admitting that my blood boiled with rage, or in the fact that I unleashed nearly the full scope of my will into his twisted mind. Instead of playing upon his memories, or implanting my own, I gripped the meat of his brain triggering every pain receptor, and then triggered a stroke within him. He endured that agony for roughly a minute until a bolt detonated inside the meat of his skull, and I am ashamed to say I wished he had suffered longer, but I moved along swiftly. I caught a glimpse of Commander Miri and her sisters in action, and by the spirits they remind me of the old tales of banshees. Where an Astartes moves with superhuman speed and strength, a Sister of Silence moves with a speed and grace that could match the Eldar, even if they were outmatched in speed their superior combat training compensated and allowed them to abuse some weakness in their foe's movements. Not to mention it was breathtaking to watch as sorcery dissipated harmlessly around the Sisters as they charged forth, slaying the cultists with cold efficiency, and setting more than a few alight with flamers. It did not take much longer to secure our first foothold of Myrakro, we destroyed no less than one hundred small personal shrines to the darkness of the warp, and secured a small handful of untainted slaves who provided us a better picture of the cultist's capabilities.

There were five major cults, the Blood Starved Blades, the Ever Changing Pilgrims, Gardeners of the Grandfather, Dancers of Thirst, and the Blackhearts of Kor were the ones with the greatest numbers and resources. However, it was clear that the Blackhearts were the most dangerous of the cultists, they seemed to worship the Warp's darkness in equal measure, and unlike the other four more disciplined in balanced military tactics. The Blood Starved Blades were basically raving barbarians that only cared about bleeding anything in the name of the object of their dark worship, believe me when I tell you that they were the most straightforward in destroying, not easy by any means, but far less time consuming than the others. The cults had claimed a university city as their bastions of power, reshaped horribly by terrible worship and practices, and each was just as revolting as the last. I do not feel it a worthy endeavor in committing the names of those cancer ridden cities to history, no matter how well hidden, I will not allow their memory to be further solidified. By the throne world, besieging those cities with no further promise of reinforcements was absolutely maddening, we had no choice but to bombard Gardener's city from orbit, too far gone to rot and taint, but none matched the strength of the Blackhearts'.

Its defenses were decorated with the corpses, innards, and damning symbols as you would expect from such deluded cultists, except much to my own surprise, there were more than one alien species' corpses strung across the battlements. Until that moment, we had no reason to believe the cults of Myrakro had any previous dealings with any interstellar forces, yet staring at me with empty sockets were Eldar and Ork corpses, their faces twisted in pain. They had also somehow managed to retain the ability to produce fresh, but outdated, lasgun and heavy weapons, even the occasional missile launcher, actually wore proper armor. Nothing advanced enough to be a match for bolter ammunition, but pair that and their working understanding of well rounded military tactics, and they made for worthy foes. They utilized ambushes, long ranged las sniping positions, minefields, turret emplacements, and roving grenadiers with explosives that did more than scorch the paint off the armored vehicles. Perhaps the most vicious tactic they had used deserves recording, if only for suggestions on counteracting the usage of similar tactics, they strapped the captured Imperial citizens to ballistic shields, and curse their shades because it worked. My Astartes hesitated when faced with the reality of having to kill the very civilians they had sworn to rescue, had it not been for rooftop sharpshooters, the librarians, or the Silent Sisters they would have swarmed our forward line.

They had also managed to summon true dwellers of the darkness, binded to the wills of the Blackhearts' sorcerers, and even with the presence of Sister they considerably delayed our attack on their command center. Some part of me wonders if the scent of burnt promethium and ozone of spent bolter rounds had been soaked into the remains of that city. I hope that the Imperium will wait a few centuries before they attempt to colonize Myrakro, indeed it would be better if I had been allowed to burn the surface entirely free of its taint. I am told that some of my seers still dream of nightmares about Myrakro, and I would not be surprised if it will play some stage in the future. Yet at the time, all I wanted were their damned turrets destroyed and their warp allies banished, and the sterile clean air of our flagship, let that tell you the stench of our war. We had also turned our armored transports into makeshift sleeping bunkers for the sisters as no amount of combat stimulants would keep them going much longer, and I would not allow our allies to endanger their health. If I had not convinced them to take guarded rest for a minimum of four hours, their sleep deprived bodies and minds would have compromised our efforts. Even some of my Astartes had to surrender briefly to sleep, in most cases engaging their armor locks to rest safely, and I even needed to close my eyes occasionally.

"We need to discuss a new strategy," Miri signaled to me, "The Blackhearts have put up more resistance than the other cults, and we are running out of time." She had stormed her way into the decrepit ruins of what must have once been a city hall, that I had converted into a makeshift command center, both our armor had been marked and scarred by the long war we had been waging. She had not stated anything my officers or I had not already realized, the problem was the Blackhearts were annoyingly adept at identifying and preventing any covert actions my sons attempted. I suspected most of their sorcerers realized that their efforts would be put to better use sensing the legion's movements, and coordinating with thrall warriors in suppressing our advance. As Miri stated, we desperately needed a new strategy otherwise we would be forced to bombard the site from orbit, because an official relief fleet was three weeks away, and if we failed to secure Myrakro within that deadline all our efforts would be for nothing. The losses of my forces were small compared to other campaign, with only losing ten Astartes; but ten squads had suffered enough injuries that required the attention of Apothecaries, three dreadnoughts had sustained such damage it would be a miracle if the entombed warriors would awaken again, five of the terminator armors had been practically cracked open by the sheer volume of enemy fire, four land raiders would need extensive repairs before taking to the field again, and by some miracle throughout the entirety of this war we had only lost five of Miri's sisters.

"I'd be happy to hear your thoughts." I sighed to her, as I could feel the sudden unwanted weight of the entire campaign crashing upon my very soul, and envied the fury that still burned fresh in her eyes. I admit freely that I was greatly impressed by not only the sheer genius of her plan, but by how absolutely inspired it was, because I would have never considered such a plan.

An hour later, drop pods rigged with explosives rained onto enemy positions with inspiring precision, it did not matter that they used heavy weapons to shoot the pods, every accurate shot only drowned them in debris falling at terminal velocity. My warriors cornered any survivors with bolter fire and tanshuman wrath, meanwhile Selwyn, two Terminators, Miri with five sisters, and myself pushed for the heart of the bastion, where we were certain to find Ezokal, the lord of the Blackhearts. A warlord with a multitude of over dramatic titles, yet I believe the most important ones were Ezokal Chosen of the Dark Master, Ezokal the Promise of Desolation, and finally Ezokal the Black Dragonheart. He was a dreadful sight to behold I assure you, his body had swollen to the size of an Astartes, one of his hands had mutated into monstrous claw capable of cleaving through power armor, his eyes glowed with the dark power of the Warp, and he born so many seared markings of the darkness. He wore an old and less efficient ceramite power armor, that had fused itself to Ezokal's flesh, and a sword he claimed was blessed by the four dark powers, while I highly doubt that as those dark forces are too selfish to only hate each other, I could sense that it was a vessel for four different breeds of neverborn fiends. That alone warned me that at the very least, he was no simple mindless cultist, he truly worshiped the darkness in equal measure, and evidently carried the knowledge to ensure he could capitalize that with greater effectiveness than any other cultist I had faced before. We found him deep in the heart of the stronghold, which acted not only as a throne room, but clearly a chamber of dark ceremonies, at least if the blood dry corpses and summoning circles were anything to go by.

He was protected by a sorcerer clad in black armor with a cloak of human flesh, a small group of warp-tainted beastmen abhumans armed with blades, a bloated and rotting Orgyn armed with an auto-cannon, and three humans with characteristics of both sexes armed with barbed whips and warp swords. They looked to be in the midst of some dark ritual, which later we learned they were attempting to summon dark prince that had "blessed" Ezokal, but the twinned fury of storm bolters, flamers, and volkite beams ended their rite master's efforts. Miri rushed upon the sorcerer, bolt pistol barking as she swung her black sword with near unnatural ease, and her sisters fell upon the intersexed sword users. The terminators unleashed their wrath upon the beastmen, while Selwyn unloaded a fury of volkite beams onto the Ogryn while his iron halo shielded him from the worst of the auto-cannon's fire. That left Ezokal for me to face, and despite the unrestrained fury I felt within him, he smiled at me.

"Ah the son of Anathema!" He mocked, "Here on your golden haloed master's orders to delay the inevitable?" That was a shock, none of the other cult leaders had any idea of our origin, let alone a description of the Emperor, but I did my best to his any surprise I felt. Instead, I channeled bale fire into Solius Caladbolg, letting the pure emerald fire illuminated the remaining silver of my power armor, before leveling the blade at Ezokal.

"Your failed dark state dies today," I challenged, "You've no allies left, and your shrines will be burned from memory." His laugh was a throaty deep reverberation that was somehow paired with a bestial growl, but his glowing eyes never left mine.

"Oh how they hunger for your soul," he taunted, "Nearly as badly as they thirst for your master's blood. It's only fair I torture you with a promise of the future. One day one of your own shall wear their mark, clad in black will sunder your false kingdom, and you will be helpless to save your slave master!" After that he leapt higher than I thought possible than one clad in power armor was capable of, his sword burned with the combined cancerous conflicting powers of the darkness, but it was simple enough to block. The duel did not last long before I killed him with a fluid swipe of my blade through his torso and his neck, and the other cultists died shortly after him. Throughout the rest of the city, the legion hunted down and purged the remnants of the Blackhearts, we rescued those who remained untouched by the darkness, but arranged for the erasing of their memories enslaved to the cults. Once we were positive that every last cultist had been put to the sword, every hostage rescued or mercifully killed, we ordered orbital bombardments of the cults' bastions and the surrounding areas were purified through flame, burning away any remnants of warp taint. Sister Miri was so impressed by the Bale Hound legions commitment to our shared purpose to bring low warp twisted sorcerers, keeping the dangerous knowledge of the darkness in the warp from the minds of the common folk, and together we swore oaths of camaraderie, yet I knew that it was another ploy to ensure the legion's continued loyalty, but paid it no mind. Instead, my thoughts were plagued by Ezokal's final words, for despite the stench of prophecy in them, some part of me could not dismiss them as the final ravings of a damned soul. I shared the warning with Malcador hoping that he would be able to know what to do with it, yet still there are times I recall his final words with damning clarity.

I have no way of knowing if Ezokal was referring to an Astartes or a Primarch, none of my brothers, save for Corvus Corax, are clad in black armor, and there are many Astartes who wear black plates, the Dark Angels, Iron Hands, and Templars of the Imperial Fists are the first that come to mind. I am hoping that in the future these fears will be unfounded paranoia caused by the empty threats of a black hearted soul. I know that those dark powers in the warp desire nothing good for our species, and doubt that even the coldest or vengeful of my brothers would willingly champion their cause after each of us wants humanity in charge of its future. Despite all this, I cannot say for certain why this fear lingers even now, or why I am more inclined now to carefully watch my brothers and their sons when we share battlefields? Is it our glaring differences of character, or is it simply the dark price of knowing such secrets? I hope it is the latter.