Author's note: Many thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Sins has helped me get through a nasty bout of writer's block, and although updates have slowed, I fully intend to finish this one.

On a more prosaic note, thanks to Teefplucka for pointing out a moment of stupidity on my part; the Unforgotten Sage in Chapter 7 is actually a Changer of Ways, not a Keeper of Secrets. It has been a while since I've had a chance to play any 40k or go on a lore-binge, so I'm a little rusty at times; if some detail or other seems off, feel free to prod me.

Now, back to the heresy…

"This is a mistake," Morgana hissed.

Tzarine looked at her, shook her head. "I have to do this."

"You're letting your hatred blind you. She'll shoot you down the moment you walk in there and you know it. You said we'd leave if we weren't wanted."

"That was before I saw what had happened here," Tzarine snapped back. "I'm not stupid, and she's not subtle. If I smell I trap, I'll leave, but this needs to happen."

"She's right." Both women looked at Rhia in surprise. The duellist tilted her head, shrugged. "This is the only way to resolve the differences here. Perhaps some good will come of it all. Zophia is not my favourite person, but she's not totally unreasonable."

Tzarine said nothing, concealing her surprise at being agreed with. Briefly she glanced at Zekka, trying to gauge her bodyguard's reaction to the situation. She'd come to rely on the feral Sister's odd, yet pragmatic, point of view.

Zekka said nothing, though, just standing in an alert, ready fashion. Perhaps this felt like an issue separate from her, a problem reserved for Tzarine and her original band.

"I'm here," a voice barked from the other entry to the hall, out of sight. Tzarine gave Morgana one final look, but her lieutenant had fallen silent, just cradling her bolter a little more firmly.

"As am I," Tzarine called. Slowly she walked into the training room.

It was not unakin to the functional chamber back on the Soul Venom, a box of metal whose whole purpose was to hone the arts of combat. Old, much abused targets lined the walls. Such a location on a Shrineworld or more official Mission would be ornate and covered with the trappings of faith; but here there were just four solemn statues in the corners of old heroes of the Order of the Bloody Rose.

Tzarine's footsteps slowed, stopped. The armoured figure opposite her also came to a halt.

Even in full power armour, Zophia was still noticeably shorter. Her armour was bright, blazing red; Tzarine's a muted, midnight blue. Tzarine's armour was mostly featureless, the details of faith and the Imperial doctrine ground off; Zophia's remained fully adorned.

"I half expected a firing squad," Tzarine said finally, breaking the silence.

Zophia's hand twitched, apparently aching to snatch her bolt pistol. "Sorry to disappoint," she growled. "I can still fix that. My troops are right outside that door."

"And mine outside the other. If you want a bloodbath, so be it. I don't want to kill you, but I will defend myself."

The Palatine watched Tzarine, helmet obscuring her expression. "I always knew you would turn traitor," she spat. "Your very presence – no, your very existence is an affront to everything the Adepta Sororitas stands for. I feel unclean just being this close to you. To turn away from the Emperor is the greatest crime of all."

Tzarine could feel bubbling fury in her stomach, but she tried to quell it. "Are you done?"

"You've been a mockery of a Battle Sister from the very beginning, Tzarine," Zophia snarled. "Did you ever tell your band of heretics that they were following a fraud? Someone who should never have been allowed into the Sororitas?"

Tzarine's control slipped another notch. "I said I didn't want to kill you, Zophia. Don't push it."

"That's why you never had a proper name," the Palatine continued, tauntingly. "You were never Sister Katarina. You never earned that. Don't you remember, Tzarine?"

Her temper snapped, and she lunged. Ceramite fist impacted on ceramite breastplate, and Zophia staggered back slightly. Then she counterattacked, and the room resounded at the impacts of block and parry before Zophia retreated.

"Touched a nerve, did I? You were admitted to the Sororitas because of your money. You're a spoiled rich brat who saw something she wanted and demanded it. You're not Katarina. You were never Katarina. Your value was a small fortune in bribes, from your family name, 'Sister' Tzarine."

Tzarine's lip curled. She'd taken the implied insult and worn it with pride ever since, but it hadn't been easy. The memory of her training, alongside Zophia and many others, still stung. "How about you, Zophia?" she countered, tone dripping acid. "You parroted lessons and learned to do everything by mimicking those better than you. You never had an original thought in your life. You live by clinging to rules and you condemn anyone who doesn't, but secretly you know that they're better than you!"

It was Zophia's turn to attack, but Tzarine fended her off easily enough. She'd always been the better fighter, and an assault of blind fury would not even the odds. "Shut your mouth!" the Palatine raged. "You were always an arrogant bitch! Right from the start, you thought you knew better than anyone else! Well, look what happened! A doomed heretic with no future, that's what you've become! You turned your back on Him, in your arrogance and your stupidity!"

"And you're a slave to a mindless system that venerates its own importance and doesn't care if we live or die!" Tzarine snapped back. She elbow-charged the other woman, and Zophia recoiled as the blow smashed into her helmet. "You don't believe in anything except rules. You're just as faithless as I am, you just became a limpet clutching onto the robes of bureaucrats. You've never showed one iota of faith, drive or talent, and your so-called leadership got those twelve Sisters killed!"

There was a sudden, nasty silence. Zophia propped herself up against the wall, and turned to look at Tzarine, the hatred like a physical force, even through the helmet. "Now I understand. You're pathetic," she growled. "You shied away from the Emperor's light, which is unforgiveable. But then you didn't even have the willpower to make a clean break. You came crawling back here looking for friends you no longer have, trying to avenge deaths that aren't your concern. Do you have so little in your life now? Are you that barren of purpose? I'd pity you if you didn't disgust me so much."

Tzarine clenched her fists, ready to attack again, but the words burrowed into her skull. However unlikely it seemed, however much she despised the source… Zophia had a point. She looked away, let her hands uncurl. "Maybe you're right."

This seemed to startle Zophia, who didn't respond.

"I didn't ask to go renegade," Tzarine said, bitterly. "I didn't ask to be packed off on a suicide mission and set up by a deranged inquisitor. But that's how things turned out. Maybe I came here to say goodbye. We've always been enemies, Zophia. Right from the day we met. We owe each other nothing. But Shondar is a mass warzone, and the rest of this moon is a graveyard. We're the only support you're going to get. And whatever I and my followers may believe or not believe, we're still Sisters. We have no desire to stand back and watch this… thing… kill you off. We'll go if you want. But I won't fight you. Any of you. Too much Sororitas blood has been spilled here already."

Zophia reached up, unsealing and taking off her helmet. Wiped a thread of blood from her nose. Eyed Tzarine. "Some day, Tzarine, you'll face judgement for your crimes. You'll burn, and in your heart you'll know that you deserve it. The Emperor has no mercy for your kind of traitor." She sounded suddenly weary, the spite merely hot rather than blazing. "But we can't kill this monster alone. And for all your many faults, I do not think you a liar. The Emperor works in mysterious ways. Perhaps he guided you here. When this is done, you will be my enemy, and I will put every effort into destroying you. Until then…" She spat. "I will fight alongside you."

Playing cat and mouse with an Eldar ship in the middle of a debris field was not Syndragar's idea of a good time. Stirred from its lethargy by the prospect of combat, the bridge of the Soul Venom was a buzz of activity as the ship readied itself for battle.

"Watch that auspex like a Kalivvian Bloodhawk!" he growled. "The slightest flicker could be an Eldar warship. Helm, new heading: zero three two mark zero one nine, put our back to the moon! Remember, the pointy ears love a blind spot! If they get on our rear, we'll never shake them!"

There was a faint groaning sound as the old cruiser's hull strained to keep up with its engines. Adrastus grinned tightly, patted the console he loomed over. "Once more into the breach, old girl. Tactical status!"

"Port gun decks ready!"

"Port lance batteries on standby!"

"Starboard lance batteries charging!"

"Starboard gun decks loaded!"

"Dorsal guns loaded!"

"Void shields fully charged!"

"Point defence systems ready!"

"Power systems fully functional!"

"Engines and thrusters in the green!"

Syndragar straightened slightly, frowning with concentration as he looked over the hololith representing the immediate area. If there was to be an attack… where from?

"Recall Vulture flight," he said after a moment. The additional warning from the salvage tugs would be minimal, and they were too valuable to lose to a moment of xenos spite. He watched as the little dots representing the shuttles began to approach the tiny, angular Soul Venom.

"Are we under attack?"

He glanced back sharply. Varn Karis had entered the bridge.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the ex-stormtrooper, and he suspected that he was not alone in that respect. "Not yet," he said curtly. "We have reason to believe that there's an Eldar warship on the debris field, though. I've seen enough good men and women die as a result of their ambushes, we're taking no chances."

"Eldar?" Karis repeated. "The plot thickens. You think they were involved in the battle? Something didn't add up there."

Sharp as a monomolecular blade at times, he noted. "Quite possible. If their presence was unexpected, an Eldar strike could have crippled both sides, and their holo-fields amidst all the wrecks and debris already around would have allowed them to stay unnoticed. Why they would do such a thing, I have no idea, but trying to fathom the mind of an Eldar is beyond me."

"They always have a reason for what they do," Karis countered. "It's rarely obvious, and they tend to think on a different scale from humans, but Eldar are anything but irrational. If I may study the auspex, I might be able to pick out telltale anomalies."

He gestured invitingly, keeping his expression neutral, and returned his attention to the hololith.

"The Tau fleet came out of nowhere. No advance warning. We don't know how they managed to sneak that far into Imperial territory without detection, but from what I heard, they repeatedly made us underestimate them." Zophia paced back and forth as she spoke. It was an old habit. She seemed to think better in motion.

"But you were never ordered to engage them?" prompted Morgana.

The training room was an odd sight; two forces of Sisters, one midnight blue, the other blood red, standing opposite each other warily. Tzarine had mixed feelings, seeing her former comrades lined up there. She suspected they all did.

"No," Zophia was saying. "The local naval branch was obliterated in the first hour and Tau forces made space travel all but impossible. Our instructions were to sit tight until reinforcements arrived to clear orbit, and avoid attracting attention. Nobody was particularly happy, but we had few other choices."

Tzarine found herself nodding in sympathy.

"At that point… a trio of Space Marines arrived. We weren't sure how they got here, three warriors of the Doom Eagles. We were able to send fewer and fewer transmissions to Shondar due to the risks of attracting Tau attention, and so we did not inform them of the development. It was only when the first town was razed that we knew something was very wrong. The Astartes weren't the only things to arrive."

"What else?" Rhia asked.

Zophia shook her head. "We're still not entirely sure. They were fast, brutal and attacked without warning. We sent out a squad to investigate, purely recon…" The Palatine looked away. "They met up with the Doom Eagles, invited them back here… and when they got to the outer door, the Astartes butchered them."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the renegade Sisters. Tzarine looked in her mind's eye at Malice again, framed it; it could possibly be the right proportions for a Space Marine.

"We were battle ready, of course, and we thought we could deal with three renegade Astartes. That was when the power went. Somehow they infiltrated the base and destroyed key systems. Split up, poor communication, minimal lighting… several units retreated into the mines to try and draw them in." Zophia's expression turned bitter. "You saw what's left of them in the entrance hall. It's been like fighting ghosts. They only strike when we leave an opening, and otherwise vanish into thin air. So I ordered my Sisters to fortify and wait. I can't say that I expected you to show up to rescue us."

There was a heavy silence. "Have they said anything?" asked Tzarine finally. "Have you seen them at all?"

"There aren't even battle cries. They're totally silent, it's unnerving." A younger battle sister spoke up, and Tzarine focused on her. The novice shifted uneasily, and she remembered the girl's name; Marie. A natural at dealing with technology, as she recalled.

"You've fought them?" Morgana asked.

Marie shrank a little more, uncomfortable with all the heretical attention. "She's the only survivor," Zophia answered for her. "Managed to seal a bulkhead to trap them long enough for her to get away."

The girl seemed to steady herself a little. "There's definitely a leader. The other two clearly follow his orders. They're all overflowing with hatred, though. They don't just want us dead, they want us to suffer."

"Did you see any Chaos markings?" Tzarine asked. Marie shook her head.

Morgana seemed to be thinking, or possibly trying to remember something, but Tzarine ignored her. She knew the woman would speak when she was ready. "We need some way to draw them into the open and then destroy them," she said. "The main problem being that they seem to be in no hurry. The other settlements have all been destroyed, and I'm inclined to believe they must have some kind of allies, but they were not brought in to finish the job here. Why?"

"It's personal," Zekka offered, speaking for the first time. "They don't want an efficient battle. As she put it…" She nodded to Marie. "They want us to suffer. Something we did must have been unforgivable in their eyes."

"Doom Eagles." Morgana snapped her fingers, not an easy feat in power armour. "I knew there was something bugging me. They're a devout chapter. Morbid in the extreme. They are taught from the moment they are accepted for training that they are already dead. Their only purpose is to prevent suffering. How could that have gone quite so wrong?"

"They could merely be wearing Doom Eagle colours," Rhia suggested.

"Bit obscure," Marie countered. "You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who's heard of them. If you want to get Sororitas into your confidence, wouldn't a better-known chapter be a more sensible move? If we'd shown more suspicion, we might never have made contact."

"Smart girl," Morgana said. "No, either these really are renegade Eagles, or there's some other reason for appearing as them."

"We know there are Iron Warriors in the system," Rhia said. "How does that play into things? The timeline does match for dropping a contingent here."

Zofia looked at Rhia sharply. "How do you know?"

Tzarine gestured. "We captured and interrogated the Tau leader. Iron Warriors are operating on Shondar. So long as they stay far away from us, they're not my concern. The bottom line is, with my troops your numbers have been doubled. Three Astartes, no matter how cunning or skilled, cannot stand against that. The question is, how do we engineer their doom?"

There was a sudden commotion on the bridge, but Karis ignored it, busily checking through the auspex readings. That is, until she felt a familiar prickle along her spine, and spun. Her last meeting with Llthaanhir was still fresh in her mind, and as the daemon strode towards her, she fumbled for a weapon.

Llthaanhir ignored the movement, her voice low and urgent. "Do you know the name Zurashniel?"

Karis relaxed slightly. "Zurashniel… the Archcorruptor of Skelethrax. Not seen for three centuries since he was banished by Inquisitor Malletras. Why?"

Llthaanhir's expression tightened, revealing sharpened teeth. "He's in this sector. Tzarine's in danger. I can almost feel his hand in all this. The bastard always loved subtle games."

"You think he's behind the Mission disappearing?"

The daemon shook her head. "I don't know. But we need to leave. I can't reach Tzarine from this distance. Can we contact them?"

Any response was interrupted, because a flickering signal appeared on the auspex, and the Soul Venom jolted as lance fire raked across its shields.