Aktis - thank you for that review. To be honest, writing Hayreddin and Thorondor has been an exercise in spontaneous writing vs planned writing. The truth is, I've had Thorondor's personality, his backstory, his world, its mythology and background, even his Legion and his relationship to the other Primarchs all planned out nearly half a year in advance before I even started writing this fic. In Hayreddin's case though...it's been more spontaneous...I know what I want to happen in his story, I know about his world and what it's like, what sort of challenges he'll face, but I didn't really know anything about Hayreddin himself until I actually started writing him...and I guess his less-than-Primarch personality and resolve is a reflection of that...actually I found myself comparing Lorgar and Hayreddin repeatedly while writing...but I'll stop myself here at the risk of giving out spoilers for this fic...

In the Light, in the Dark

A titanic eagle falling beneath a storm...

A silhouetted golden giant kneeling in the ashes of a ruined city...

A beautiful city of spires and pyramids burning to the howls of wolves...

A serpentine shape shrouded in shadows...

A world set ablaze...

A dark figure laughing as an angel falls...

A corpse on a golden throne...screaming...and screaming...and screaming...

Hayreddin woke with a cry.

He looked around wildly for a moment, breathing rapidly as sweat rolled down his face. He slowly calmed himself down; his breathing grew slower as he assured himself that it was only a bad dream. Even so, Hayreddin didn't go back to sleep and after washing himself thoroughly, he passed the rest of the night deep in thought as he stood on his apartment balcony, looking up at the night sky.

The dreams hadn't bothered him since he had first came to Ain, and Hayreddin suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that he had been extremely busy then. Now that it was all over, the dreams had started to return; always the vague shapes, scenes of death and destruction and sometimes scenes the just made no sense to him.

And treachery.

Hayreddin didn't know how he knew that, but somehow he knew that there was treachery in his dreams.

As he continued to immerse himself in his thoughts, the sun slowly rose over the horizon and lifted the darkness of night from Ain. The city slowly came to life as its people awoke and began to go about their daily affairs. From his vantage point on the balcony, Hayreddin smiled. While there was still rebuilding to be done in the outer districts of the city, life had very much returned to normal for the people of Ain. Hayreddin was glad for that; he had come to love the city as a second home. However, he longed to return home to Nuba, he missed his parents greatly.

The knock on his door drew his attention. Stopping by the wash basin to splash water on his face to make himself feel better, Hayreddin answered it, opening his mouth to greet whoever it was at the door.

Instead he ended up staring in silent admiration.

Isan, dressed in her wedding dress, smiled up at him shyly. She was dressed in silk the colour of pale gold with silver lace forming an elaborate pattern throughout her dress. Pearl beads adorned the hem of her skirt, and a simple silver chain with a single small ruby was clasped around her neck. Her face was covered in thin veil adorned with flowers.

Behind her were the women who would attend to her during the wedding, huddled together as they giggled, looking up at Hayreddin admiringly, but he had eyes only for his best friend.

"Isan..." said Hayreddin, admiration evident in his voice.

"Well, how do I look?" asked Isan, looking down at her feet self-consciously. "Do you think Ravenna will like it?"

"Like it?" echoed Hayreddin. "He'll love it. Everyone will. You look beautiful, Isan."

Isan blushed and looked away. Smiling, Hayreddin bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead. The giggles from the other women melted away into dreamy sighs.

"Come on," said Hayreddin, offering his arm to Isan. "Let's get you to your husband."

XI XI XI

In the years that followed, no matter what other great achievement he accomplished, it would always be Isan and Ravenna's wedding that Hayreddin would always recall with the greatest clarity and joy.

He remembered the red and white petals that the women of Ain flung from the adjacent buildings that surrounded the canopy that had been erected to host the event. He remembered the translucent pale gold veils that hung gracefully at the sides of the canopy. He remembered how the sunlight had shone through the veils, casting a heavenly glow on everything and everyone within the canopy. He remembered the sounds of laughter and the music that had come from sheepskin drums, harps and flutes. He remembered the smiles and joyful faces.

But above all, he remembered how beautiful Isan had looked as she was escorted by her attendants to Ravenna. He remembered how the happiness on her face had enhanced her beauty so much that he believed that he was seeing one of the angels of myth in the flesh. He remembered how Ravenna finally allowed a true smile to soften his harsh face as he had turned to Isan. Hayreddin remembered how right the two of them looked side by side as Elder Nebud had said the necessary blessings for their union.

In the years that followed, even far into the dark, hateful future, it was a memory that Hayreddin would always cherish.

XI XI XI

As night fell over Nuba, Babar closed up his shop. He groaned as he stretched, feeling his back crack in a most satisfying way. Making certain that all the doors and windows on the shop floor were locked, he made his way upstairs where Ani was laying out dinner for both of them. It was fish grilled with spices and plain rice, and Babar's stomach growled in anticipation as the appetising smell caressed his nostrils.

"When do you think Hayreddin will come home?" asked Ani as she cut a piece of fish for Babar.

"Haven't you heard?" asked Babar as he scooped up a handful of rice to his mouth. "Apparently whatever's going on at Ain has been resolved. Our boy should be back soon."

Ani smiled as she watched Babar chewed on the rice enthusiastically, getting some on his chin and tunic.

"It'll be nice to have a man in the house again who doesn't eat like a barbarian," she remarked.

Babar snorted with his mouth full, spraying some rice onto the floor. Ani rolled her eyes and settled down to eat, in a far more refined manner than her husband.

"Speaking of Hayreddin," grunted Babar, pausing for a moment to swallow. "Have you noticed that old Beduin has been quiet for the past month or so?"

Ani paused as she thought about it. Since Hayreddin's departure, the old spirit-speaker had stopped in front of their house every few days to rant and curse at them. Most of the time, Babar and Ani ignored him. Sometimes however, when Beduin would go too far, throwing rocks at the shop, Babar would chase him away. However, in the last month or so, Beduin had barely shown up. The few times he did, he would only pause to give them a hate-filled glare before moving on. While they appreciated the peace, Babar and Ani found it slightly unsettling.

"Do you think he's up to something?" asked Ani.

Babar snorted derisively. "What can the old fool do? He's just a bitter old man now; I'd feel sorry for him if he didn't keep bad-mouthing us and our boy."

Ani shrugged. "I suppose you're right...you're bound to be, every now and then."

"Mind your tongue, woman..." began Babar when he choked as some of the rice went down wrong.

Ani giggled as she handed him a cup of water. "That's what you get for talking with your mouth full."

XI XI XI

In a darkened room, robed figures stood silently, waiting patiently.

Finally, another robed figure entered, his heavy breathing attesting to the running he had been doing.

"Well?" asked one of the other figures.

The newly-arrived figure spoke. "It is done. They have agreed, but they warned us to deliver on our promise."

"It will be so," said the first figure.

The newcomer hesitated, and the gesture did not go unnoticed.

"Something troubles you?" asked the first figure.

"This plan of yours...is this the right way to go about it?" asked the newcomer. "Innocent blood will be spilled for this. Should we not try...?"

He got no further; the first figure moved suddenly and there was a flash of silver light in the dark. The newly-arrived figure collapsed onto the floor, blood gushing from his slashed throat.

"There is no innocent blood in this," hissed the first figure. "Everyone in this town is tainted for following the words of the daemon. We are just as guilty for allowing it to happen. This is atonement for us. This town must bleed for it to be pure and wholesome once again. Perhaps then, we will regain the favour of the spirits."

He turned to face the others, his eyes gleaming with zealous fervour. "Better to die in this life doing what is right than condemn ours souls to eternal damnation for enjoying the accursed gifts offered by a daemon."

"Nuba will burn then?" questioned one of the other figures, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. His throat was also slashed apart for his weakness.

Beduin stood over the fallen figures, gazing at the others with blazing eyes. Blood dripped from the ceremonial dagger he carried in his hand.

"It is the will of the spirits," whispered the spirit-speaker.