A/N: Deep breath, everyone. Here we go.

Book Two: Corruption's End

Chapter 41: A Vision Enchanted

"Chaos claims the unwary or the incomplete. A true man may flinch away its embrace, if he is stalwart, and he girds his soul with the armor of contempt." - Gideon Ravenor, The Spheres of Longing

Amat stood, exitus rifle billowing steam. His eyes hurt. Stung like hell, really. Keying his microbead, he summoned his Lady's attention.

"Amat," she snapped, "I was just about to contact you. Where is Yang? I've lost track of her," she said, frustration ringing clear from within her skull-mask. He took a deep breath, leaning against the dilapidated home he'd made for himself.

"I am calling you to confirm mission completion, within stated parameters. The target succumbed, and…" his words failed him, something he found curious. His throat seemed desperate to choke him. He tried again. "And was eliminated."

The microbead went dead. It felt cold against his ear, a piece of frigid iron squirming its way into his brain. A gasp of pain, stuttered and wet.

"C-confirmed," she said, her voice tremulous and weak. It didn't make sense. Those were the noises heretics made when she cornered them, broke them down to less than nothing. "She didn't… suffer, did she?" His Lady asked. Amat found himself telling his first lie.

"She died instantly." She'd twitched and screamed, that much had been clear. Each quiver of her lips felt like a condemnation of his soul, a sin against the Emperor himself. He felt… ill.

Wrong. Vile.

Like he'd committed some great heresy.

Descending from his perch, his feet rang against the refuse of Uriel's surface.

"Amat…" his Lady said, her voice hesitant and full of broken glass. "Thank you. Please, retrieve her… her corpse."

Slinging his rifle across his shoulder, he went to his task. "Understood, my Lady."

The ends justifies the deeds.

Always.

The taste of iron filled his mouth as his feet crunched against corrugated metal. He buckled his shoulder-cape across his chest, the cameleoline hissing as it slipped over his stealth suit. Never had completing a mission felt so disconcerting. Amat didn't know what caused Yang to descend into her blood rage, but it must have been grievous to upset her sunny disposition.

Although... something else lurked beneath her. When she'd afforded him a glimpse of Remnant, her facade had cracked. There was a gulf in her, he realized, a hole where love for her sister used to live.

He wished he could have offered her more than a simple platitude. But when he'd tried, a grey mist had descended, fumbling his tongue while Yang sat there and shook.

It didn't matter now, though. He was too late.

Sighing, he leapt over a cracked and rusted pipeline. The matter of his Lady concerned him as well. If Yang's death destabilized her any further, he worried that the golden-haired beauty would not be his only victim. He shuddered. Emperor, let it never come to that.

Killing Yang had been difficult, and to imagine rendering the same judgement upon his Lady… he shook his head. Amat would do his duty. Nothing more, nothing less. Once more, he felt his head split, temples pulsing with agony.

Grunting, he soldiered on towards the Forge, trying not to think of Yang or his Lady. Ever since Shao-la, he'd felt unease hounding at him,and his dreams were often plagued with a familiar-looking Red Woman, whispering benedictions in an angelic, sing-song voice.

Emperor protect me from it all.

After trudging through Uriel's metallic muck, he came upon the Woadian encampment. Chimeras by the hundreds sat in neat rows, around which thousands of soldiers grieved. Pillars of smoke trailed towards the polluted sky, piles of bodies offering up their ashes to the Forge that towered above them.

Nearing, he saw his Lady behind a Leman Russ. She was alone, her skull-mask buried in her gauntleted hands. Her halo shook and heaved, in time with her swelling cuirass. Amat wanted to reach out to her, but could not.

A woman stretched a tattered crimson cloak over the Inquisitor's pauldrons, her face split with a gentle smile. His pistol shot out of its holster, leveled at the intruder.

But she was gone, and the cloak melted off his Lady's shoulders, brilliant scraps of red silk floating away on the rancid breeze. Amat blinked, and the garment disappeared entirely. The only thing left was an Inquisitor, alone with her grief.

Whispering a prayer into his spy-mask, he pressed on. There was nothing he could do.

The Woadians grieved as well, stacking more of their kindred on the body-pyres. Hysterical shrieks of pain echoed through the camp as medics attended to the wounded. The xenos themselves received more curious treatment, however. Slipping through the Imperial lines, he watched the guardsmen stack them into neat piles, delicately stripping them of their weapons and armor.

Ira stomped through the quagmire, his swords hanging at his hip. The ex-skitarii seemed perturbed, his head on a swivel as he scanned the camp. Jogging over to him, Amat hissed his name. The acolyte jumped, pink plasteel arms clasping his swords.

"Amat?" He asked, his voice low and whispered.

"Behind you, my Lord. What's the matter? You're making the Woadians nervous," Amat said. Ira turned to face him. "Please my Lord, don't look at me. I must remain hidden," Amat said. He'd already failed his Lady on that account. Wouldn't do to make it worse. "It would raise suspicion if you addressed a shadow."

"Right," he replied, the bloody hood shifting to conceal his face. "I cannot find the Inquisitor." Unbidden, Amat's gaze shifted to where his Lady had hidden herself. "She gave the regiment strange orders, then disappeared an hour ago. She's not replying to my hails, and I worry for her well-being."

"Don't worry," Amat said, "she is unhurt. She will…" He struggled to find the words, something that was too common these days. "She will find you in time. I must be off."

"Understood," Ira said, shoulders unwinding at the assassin's words. He wasn't certain if they were correct, but they felt right.

Pressing onwards, Amat slipped past the Imperial forces. The foundry that towered over the encampment was silent and foreboding.

Foul. Unclean.

Unslinging his rifle once more, he slowed his advance, crouching low as he picked his way through the refuse and pollution. No spotlights flickered to life, no shouts accosted him. Wrapped in his wargear and the silence of night, he was invisible.

Against the soaring wall of the foundry, there was a single hole, torn rebar and broken rockcrete caving inwards. Her point of entry. Stepping through the wound in the wall, he followed the jittering black line that scraped itself across the floor.

When he emerged, he found nothing outside his expectations. Bodies by the dozen lined the halls, stewing in their curdling blood. There was no difficulty in following Yang's trail after that. Fleeting red boot prints trailed away from the carnage, pockmarked with more shredded corpses. The end of the hallway was missing its door, the broken hinges spitting blue sparks into the larger interior.

If it weren't for the clinical tang of his rebreather, Amat was sure he would choke on the smell. Among the hundred bodies he found her power sword, inert and buried in a heretic's innards. Next to it lay a chainsword, its bladed teeth painted red.

Tucking the more valuable sword into his belt, he continued to follow the bloody footprints, past a pack of mulched cultists, past a headless corpse. Bracing his rifle against his shoulder, he crawled up the stairs, where more bodies awaited him. He'd lost count by now.

When he emerged once more into the night of Uriel, he took a deep breath to steel himself. End the throbbing pain that hammered behind his forehead. The corpses here were mutilated beyond recognition, torn apart by bare hands and shotgun pellets.

And then he saw her.

In the middle of the butcher's floor lay Yang Xiao Long, her eyes shut in repose and hands clasped over the wound that felled her. The sight burnt his vision. Made it feel like someone was pushing needles into his eye sockets. Walking over to Yang, he stooped low to inspect her corpse.

The sight… disturbed him. He wished he could feel hatred and disgust, but he only found pity and regret. Yang was the first person he could call his… Damnation, what was the word? Ah yes.

Friend.

When he looked at her again, he found that an eye had opened, a deep and velvety purple.

Death would wait a little longer, it seemed. Pain coursed through Yang, deadened by the bloodless stupor that blurred her vision. Beyond the haze stood Amat, his head framed by stars, his over-sized rifle braced against his shoulder. Pointed at her.

"We've got to…" she groaned in pain, fingers seizing at the hole in her stomach. "We've got to stop meeting like this, assassin-man."

"Emperor," he whispered, his rifle unflinching.

Yang closed her eyes, drawing a rattling breath through a parched throat. "Thank you," she said, swallowing. "I'm not… I'm not wrong am I? You shot me, didn't you?"

Amat nodded.

"Ah," she said. "Thought so." Fuck. Everything hurts so much. "Thank you," she repeated. "You woke me up. I don't know what came over me. I never want to feel… feel like that again." Her eyes stung. "Ever. Please, Amat, get me to Weiss. I want to say I'm sorry."

Crouching, he brushed a lock of gore-slicked gold out her eyes. "I… I'll see what I can do." Smiling, a weak hand left her side, climbing up to push aside the barrel of his rifle.

"Don't worry. I'm... okay. I'm okay now."

"You have a hole in you," Amat said, his voice almost inaudible behind his mask. Yang tried to laugh, but it sent pain coursing through her. Her face screwed up, and she mewled in agony.

"C'mon man… d-don't make me laugh. Not now," she said.

Amat nodded, reaching into one of the many pockets that hung from the belt at his hips. Pulling out a slim green injector, he stuck it into her neck. With a hiss, it sent a numbing sensation crawling through her veins, recalling a few droplets of water from the ocean of pain that swelled within her.

"Thank you," she said. He reached for her stomach, pulling at the hand that clasped the wound. Removing it sent a wave of needles through her, their points dull and rusted.

"How are you alive?" Amat asked, doing what he could to stem the fresh rush of blood from the hole in her flank. Yang's vision faded in and out, her thoughts muddled, unclear. She blinked, biting her lip to ease the agony of his prodding.

"Aura hasn't been right," she guessed. As if on cue, a yellow arc of lightning shot from her wound, dancing up Amat's forearm. Bright and luminous, its lazy path lit the foundry's roof like a candle, its light soft and warm. He gaped at it. "It's s-supposed to just help with minor stuff. Cuts and bruises. Nothing like this." The river of cold flame on his arm dissipated, a warming, welcoming ghost-touch. "Still dying down here," Yang said, the corner of her lips twitching.

"...Right."

"Did you call Weiss?"

"Yes."

She nodded, head lolling to the side. "Thanks. I don't know how I'm still breathing. How much blood have I lost?" Blinking, she tried to sit up. A firm hand eased her back down.

"Easy there," Amat said. "I don't know what aura is or what it can do… but Yang…" His visor shifted, meeting her half-lidded gaze. "If we can get you to a real medicae, there's a chance you could make it."

A wave of relief coursed through her, the tension that had curled her fingers into fists relaxing, letting go. I'm not done. In a way, it was comforting. She grinned. Even though pain hammered against her mind, begging her to scream and wail, she grinned. Yang laughed too, a small choking sound. I might get to see Ruby after all. I don't deserve to, but I just might. I was too quick to accept death again.

But now… things were different. She'd seen the abyss, and there were no stars there.

Her hand reached skywards, falling on the side of Amat's mask. Bloodied fingers trailed two lazy marks across his hidden face.

"Nice shot, dummy. You were supposed to kill me."

Amat huffed, pressing her hand to the side of his face.

"Don't know how I missed, but yeah… I was. My Lady's orders."

"Makes sense," Yang admitted, eyes closing. "I'm gonna clobber her for it, but I can see why." Cold and weak, she shuddered. "I see it now. If I do this shit again, you have my express permission to blow my pretty brains all over the floor." Her fingers worked against his mask, feeling the ivory edges that framed the red of his eyes. "None of this mortally wounding bullshit, okay?"

She pulled him closer. Reading her intentions, he sighed. Amat removed her hand, replacing it with his own. With a gasp of compressed air, he removed his mask, baring his face to the elements.

He was young, not much older than herself. A thin, unkempt beard sat below a head of short-cropped hair, both a coarse and sandy blond. Three metal studs sat above the corner of his right eyebrow, the pallid skin around them dry and cracked. The eyes themselves were a vibrant, burnt-orange hazel, blinking and wet. Though sunken with fatigue, they were like two shards of glass - just as clear and bright, but bearing the same jagged edge.

"Ha," Yang said, blood seeping from between her lips and staining her teeth. "I gotcha. It was all an elaborate scheme to take your mask off." She saw his smile for the first time, gleaming white teeth behind quivering lips.

Unconsciously, he wiped at his eyes, salt washing away the red on his hands.

"You got me," he said, sniffing again. "This feels weird," he added, his fingers combing through his hair.

"Yeah, you could use some sun," Yang said, patting his cheek with a smile. It died though, swallowed up by a rush of pain. "Ah, fuck. This is horrible."

"C'mon Yang, stay with me," Amat said, rooting around in his belt once more. "I have a lot of questions, you know. Can't answer 'em if you give up and die."

She breathed a wheezing breath, setting her face into a pained snarl. "I won't," she said, hissing in agony. "Promise."

"I'm holding you to that, you know," he replied, wrapping his hands in sterile bandages and applying pressure to the bleeding areas. Yang bit down the howl that boiled in her throat. She wouldn't lie to him. Couldn't. Grinding her teeth, she summoned what remained of her aura, focusing it on constraining the weeping wound.

"Prick," she said, trying to smile. "If you were gonna try and save me, you could have shot me with something less painful."

Even without his mask, his face was still and silent. "I didn't know I was going to try and save you," he said after a moment's contemplation. "You are unique, Yang Xiao Long."

"One of a k-kind," she said, blinking away tears. Breathe. In and out. Pain is temporary.

This place will not be my legacy. The thought brought a real smile to her face.

"YANG!" The cry echoed across the roof, Weiss' piercing voice accompanying her thunderous, armor-enhanced footfalls.

"Oh, hey Weiss."

Blackness consumed her once more, her last sight the reddened tear-stained face of her former teammate, side-by-side with Amat. She reached up for them as the darkness ate at the edges of her vision.

Her friends. Neither of them wore their masks.

"She's okay, my Lady," Amat said, his fingers pressed against Yang's neck. His mask hung at his side, discarded, forgotten. "For now."

"Your mask," the Lady Inquisitor said. He didn't respond, still watching the shuddering, unconscious form of her friend. Sighing, she turned to the stairwell, gesturing her company forward. Sister Mwatabu of the Order Vespila emerged into the night, the white of her immaculate bob-cut shining like a beacon.

Attached to the Palatine's command squad, she was the most capable medic in her warband. Even Darron's surgical skills were paltry and pathetic compared to hers. Furthermore, her kasrkin Captain couldn't know of Amat. Not yet.

"My Lady, your orders?" She asked, her medical headdress tilting.

"Keep my Representative alive. Her survival is imperative." Nodding, the Sister Hospitaller stomped forward, power armor hissing and whirring. Gently removing Amat from Yang's side, she bent to her task.

The assassin obeyed, recovering his rifle and pulling its strap across his chest. Appraising him, the Lady Inquisitor pulled him off to the side, gesturing him closer with ice-blue eyes and a wave of her fingers. A bloody handprint had been smeared across his face.

"You did well, Amat." The damage is already done. Yang's trod over my years of work, but the least I can do is salvage what's left. When she probed his mind, it was an entirely new landscape. She smiled.

"I did? I failed my mission."

"Not quite," the Lady Inquisitor said, glancing over at Sister Mwatabu. She'd underestimated Yang's attachment to her footslogger friend. A mistake that will never occur again. The touch of the warp still stained her, but it was ebbing away, dying under an assault of crimson laughter and a sunny smile. Though she'd succumbed to the Empyrean's whispers, letting them fuel her rage and latent bloodlust, she remained Yang Xiao Long in mind, body, and soul. She sent a prayer to the Emperor in thanks, before waving him over to the edge of the roof, out of Mwatabu's earshot.

"My Representative is an uncommonly strong individual," she said, watching for Amat's reaction. She might have even briefly held the lofty title of 'The Maiden of Summer'. Depending on Ruby's last thoughts… the Inquisitor shuddered. That was a place better left unvisited.

"In fact," she continued, "I would wager that she is unlike any other human in the Imperium." He could only look at Sister Mwatabu. The Inquisitor's hand fell upon his shoulder, fingers resting against the taut muscles that sat underneath his stealth suit. "She told you quite a lot, didn't she?" She asked.

Amat nodded.

"Would you like to know the truth?" The Lady Inquisitor said. Outside of his widening eyes, years of hypno-indoctrination kept his face clear of emotion. "I can illuminate matters a bit further. But if you accept my offer, there is no turning back. Do you understand?"

Amat considered that, eyes parsing the bleeding form of Yang Xiao Long.

"May I pray first?" He asked. She nodded her assent.

While his hands folded and lips quivered, she took the time to assess the Forge. Her gaze turned upwards, where the dark eldar fliers had made their escape. No doubt, their twisted host-craft had already departed for Commorragh, slipping away amidst the chaos of open orbital warfare. Someone had hired a kabal to abduct her. It is almost… flattering. She allowed herself a brief, hollow grin. The resources poured into the raid had been wasted. In return, she'd obtained a pile of precious corpses and a handful of live specimens for Prexius, as well as a cache of forbidden xenotech for Tyrham. More bargaining chips placed firmly in her corner. Also, whoever commissioned them had vastly overplayed their hand, underestimating her to a laughable degree. Never trust xenos to do an assassin's work. She'd find out who hired the xenos eventually, and why. But that was a task for later.

Her smile faded as she watched Sister Mwatabu work. Though the kidnapping attempt was amusingly pitiful, it had almost cost her Yang. Her friend. A reminder of Remnant, and of Her. When Amat had told her of his mission, her response had been… surprising.

That Yang had not fallen to the temptations that sat on the edge of her soul was a blessing beyond any she'd seen in a long time. Briefly, she joined Amat in prayer, once more thanking the Emperor for His watchful protection over her endeavours, and His hand in saving Yang.

Watching Amat finish his mumbling, she sighed.

"My Lady?" He asked, hands still clasped. "I have an answer."

"And?"

"I need to know. Something in my soul demands it."

Smiling, she knew she had selected the right assassin on Holy Terra. Though the Inquisitor could never have predicted Yang would throw her plans awry, let it never be said she could not be… flexible.

There was potential here. A new approach. The Lady Inquisitor did not take risks, but Weiss Schnee could gamble, if pressed. Locking eyes with her assassin, the Lady Inquisitor plunged into his mind, pouring a torrent of information into him, all tailored to her taste.

Years of history and culture, the crimson leaves of Forever Fall, The Emerald Forest, the storied halls of Beacon Academy. A huntress who was Red like Roses. Grimm, the faunus, the White Fang.

A war. The deaths.

A funeral.

Amat pulled back, reeling and grimacing as his fingers dug into his scalp. He grunted and squirmed in pain, hands and chest shaking.

"Emperor," he whispered, stumbling back. "Golden Throne of Terra." He looked at her, eyes open and fearful. "Who are you? What are you?"

"I am an Inquisitor," she replied.

A/N: Happy new year's everyone! You didn't think I was gonna let you guys sit on that cliffhanger for too long, did ya? :D And yeah, I wish I had the stones to kill Yang off. Unfortunately, it was impossible - this is her story, and it can't progress without her... for now. I know this probably wasn't what you guys were expecting, but I hope it satisfied anyway.

To answer a common question I've been asked: The only person to see Yang fall was Amat - the foundry was too tall for anyone below to see Yang ripping the heretics apart. And yeah, the un-reveal that Amat is simply an OC, not a more muscle-ly, mind-wiped Jaune walking around with an exitus rifle.

With that said, drop a review to let me know what you thought!

Review Replies: Oh boy. This is my most reviewed chapter of anything I've ever done... loved reading each and every one! :D Oh, and side note - if you haven't reviewed the latest chapter, I assume you're not caught up, and don't reply!

Inquisitor Azreal: It's been coming for a long time, believe me.

Darkerpaths: Hopefully the Inquisitor illuminated more of the circumstances behind Yang falling. And were you talking about my OCs? If that's the case, that's totally fair, but you're like... the first person to say anything. XD

theblacklightprojekt: She was a lot more hurt by it then she thought she'd be. No idea about the Ultramarines though!

redcollecter: Well, you got your wish... for now.

The Walrus of Eden: She wasn't actually dead, she just passed out. I phrased it differently to fake you out though, because your tears are delicious.

cdonovan: Oh wow, thanks so much! I try really hard to make sure this is the best story it can be!

Guest: Hahaha I certainly wish! I would love to write for them!

Nemris: Glad you liked it so much! Writing Amat's section in the previous chapter was really difficult, but it appears to have worked out. Hope you enjoyed the latest!

Fencer22: Does this give you a little better idea?

Knives91: You put it very poetically! :D

tankbuster626: It was the only time. :(

Kidkaboom1: Hey, thanks man! Always love seeing new faces like yours around!

snoogenz: No one really felt the 'power spike'... it was just Yang letting go of everything she had bottled up. Thank the Emperor she managed to keep it contained!

Zoe Walker: The chapter quote remains ever-true.

Bassmallet: I guess we'll see, in time.

A Flying Tomato: I really enjoy reading reviews like yours - primal, visceral reactions keep my typing fingers going!

Victor L: Damn, what a review! And you pretty much hit the nail on the head regarding Weiss and Yang. Your comment about 'goldfish in a universe of sharks' rings especially true, and it's something that may or may not show up later. Thanks for your incredible support!

SanguinePenguine: She hasn't, not just yet.

blaiseingfire: Well, she escaped that tortuous fate... for now, at least.

Galm: The former!

LegionOfMisfits: Hahaha funny that he was similar! But as for Ros - she's gone. Her fate lies with Comorragh

Gafgar: Not quite! Hope this chapter still satisfied. Also, that would be fucking metal as fuck, dude.

Kiyoushu: You were partially right! XD No promises about an omake though... I'm hella busy haha

OBSERVER01: No rising up for Yang. Giant holes in your stomach tend to put a halt on most ascensions.

goldfencer: Now that's an interesting theory...

Heitomos: As for Red Like Roses Pt. 2 in regards to this story, I always heard it as Yang singing to Ruby (in that order). But yes, I Burn is always fitting! If you want a good song about Yang and Weiss' current relationship, Mumford and Son's "The Cave" is actually surprisingly fitting. Like... damn.

soupie13941: Glad you're liking Amat! Having him wuss out of his duty felt very, very wrong.

mranonymous: There's a few whispers going around that the galaxy is changing. Thanks for tuning in!

Quelthias: Did the chapter suck, or did it just suck seeing Yang go crazy? haha

Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: I guess time will tell, won't it? Oh, and the planet is named Uriel. :)

OnyxIdol: You raise a good point.

Magnificent Bosh'tet: Jacket? I know not what this is.

RampantPoultry: Thanks so much! It was tough to balance, but I think I found the right amount. So thrilled to hear you're enjoying the story!

Kaeni: So glad you're enjoying my OCs! And yes, Yang's fate is certainly curious.

LuckyFractal: Hahaha you're making me blush! So glad you're enjoying the characterization in the story, both of the OCs and Weiss and Yang. Weiss has been a challenge, but she's an utter blast to write. And your prediction was actually pretty close! As for Varan the Undefeateable, I had no idea he even existed when I conceived of Josephus... my fault for not reading the Cain series... Seriously though, reviews like this are always great to receive, and it always makes my day. So thanks, dude! I shall continue, to the best of my ability!

Allard-Liao: Well... I guess we'll see what happens. :)

Well good god-damn. That's a lot of reviews! Thank you so much for all your support!