Chapter 2
999.M41
Inno, Mizar subsector, Syntyche sector
"I swear before the Golden Throne and all the saints, it was Astartes who massacred the men! We tried to halt them but there were too many! Good Arbites, lawful men who'd never back down from a fight were burnt by fire and lightning. You'll know I speak the truth after your agents have viewed the security feeds. They weren't tampered with, I swear it!"
He was babbling, raving like a madman. Eager to refute his incompetence, a heavy weight made all the worse by the arrival of the Black Ships, the commander could not stop. He winced involuntary at the new arrival's voice. It was the sound of judgement being passed.
"Pray I do find the truth aligned with your version of the events. Nothing is hidden from the righteous servant. The tithe from Inno will be light this time, and I hope it is not because of your gross ineptitude. Who knows what's befouled this place with its passing."
"There's no mystery here, lord. I wouldn't lie. Space Marines attacked the ziggurat." Newly appointed after the former captain's violent death, the officer's voice quivered. An Inquisitor's presence terrified even the boldest. A Lord Inquisitor made the officer want to willingly face down a hive gang alone with his bare fists. The Lord Inquisitor's aura nearly broke the captain's fragile resolve.
Garbed in a white cloak and sheathed in black power armour, Euleus Saeger was a man who justified every action undertaken. In his career as a blessed Inquisitor, now a Lord Inquisitor commanding a contingent of Black Ships, he was not to be trifled with. Older than he looked, the long decades in service to the Inquisition were written deep; grooves marred his leathery face, a sneer graced bloodless lips, and eyes deeply set in pale skin looked at a world twisted. Saeger's hair was slicked over a high brow, his long face framed by a shock white beard.
In every dwelling of light, Saeger hunted the darkness which hid itself in corners. Across every face, he gazed intently for the monster under the flesh. Under the fine veneer of guarded thoughts, he sought the deep seated desires every being held. A witch hunter through and through, Saeger was the idealized figure of the Ordo Hereticus.
His deviation to Inno was no light matter. Saeger changed his course not due to the desperate pleas relayed from astropathic communiques, but through consultation of the divine Imperial Tarot. A passage from his prayer books spoke to his soul, a deliberation required, and Saeger drew forth the Tarot. Laid out on silk, gilt edges catching the candlelight, the God-Emperor spoke through them.
The Great Eye stared at Saeger, the first card pulled. Warp tendrils crept from the pupil and did little to soothe the anxiety he felt. Crossed over it was the Shattered World, the illustration depicting a barren planet, a great crack splitting it asunder. A world lost to the damnation of Chaos and to the untested powers of a psyker; the third card supporting the latter. The Magus, holding the image of a diminutive psyker with fiery eyes, was inversed. Great power would be contaminated by the vile forces. The fourth card, bringing little clarity to the reading, displayed the Hammer of the Malleus Ordo. It too was inversed. Coupled with the fifth and final card, the God-Emperor, was enough for Saeger to create a new course.
Saeger smelled the corruption when the shuttle doors opened. Setting down before the ruined Arbites keep, Saeger strode on to the planet's surface as though he were its governor. Oily black smoke poured from the massive ziggurat, hampering the recovery crew's work in finding survivors. As the newly-appointed captain from the Arbites met the Lord Inquisitor and explain what happened, Saeger snapped his fingers. He was ready to take action.
The reading of the first card had passed.
"Gren, your skills are about to be tested. Let me judge what you've learned under my tutelage."
Approaching silently behind Saeger, a plain young man garbed in black waited for his orders. Swirling out from his left temple and patterning down his jaw line, a jagged tattoo marred a sharply-lined face. Limpid grey eyes without emotion, a mouth which neither smiled nor frowned, tonsured brown hair; Gren, the sole Interrogator under Saeger's harsh tutelage, inclined his head. Behind him, a servo-skull hovered at shoulder level.
"What is required, my Lord Inquisitor?"
"Take the Arbites security logs into custody. Have the servitors immediately begin a detailed inspection into the identities of the attackers. Audit the survivors and their psychic rankings, report to me any thought to be missing. I want to know within the hour who was audacious enough to attack this," Saeger's embittered eyes glared at the commander. "Supposed stronghold."
Gren moved to find the hastily constructed command tent of the Arbites, his servo-skull following. Saeger's next course was to personally investigate the ruined interior of the compound. The Arbites captain led the Lord Inquisitor through the ziggurat's halls. He jabbered on about Space Marines wielding fire, speaking of psykers within their cells turning mad in the warriors passing. Many required death as the final sedative, their bodies burnt. Those who could be restrained were and kept in reserve cells before being transported to the Black Ships.
Once inside the ziggurat, Saeger wrinkled his nose, placing a hand over his mouth. To breathe the same fouled air as psykers was one thing, to recognize and inhale the taint of Chaos was another. He mentally shuddered at the thought. Great chunks of ferrocrete blocked the wide halls. Melted girders and twisted stairwells testified to the strength of the fires unleashed and which still burned. With the lifts nonoperational, the Hereticus Inquisitor and Arbites took to the stairs, descending into the heart of the ruined structure. Passing down the levels into the thickening acrid smoke, the Arbites commander passed Inquisitor Saeger a rebreather unit, putting his own in place.
"The damage you saw in the upper levels and along here," the officer pointed out in his muffled voice, "was caused by chained lightning." The walls, scorched and blackened, were pitted as though someone passed a saw-toothed blade across its surface. "After the psy-dampeners failed on this level, the sorcerers," he fumbled with the world, "continued down to the lower levels."
"Who were kept in the lowest recesses?" Saeger ducked under a half-collapsed pylon, keenly noting the bolt rounds embedded in the walls. Across the way and placed in a wall niche, a statue of an angel with its face pulverized to dust tilted at a drunken angle.
"Highly unstable psykers. The ones we're unable to classify and need further Assignment ratings. We ensure they are under the tightest lock and key, but what we do know is the Space Marines came-"
"Corrupted Space Marines. No pure Imperial Chapter would attack a compound," Saeger corrected the officer.
Visibly paling, the commander nodded. "Uh, y-yes. The corrupted marines made their way to the lowest of the holding cells where the most severe damage was done."
Grunting in annoyance, Saeger continued down the steps, the metal rattling in his passing. An uncomfortable silence fell. The Lord Inquisitor took note of every detail. Indeed, Saeger had played the game long enough to know what clues to look for, finding them at every turn. A precise lightning raid, careful timed, made him wonder which Legion the Chaos Space Marines hailed from. Reaching the bottom-most cells, Saeger inhaled sharply at what greeted them.
Charred walls where the rock ran like water. Twisted cables sputtering in half melted casings. Red light from the emergency lumen strips flooded the halls, flickering on and off in quick succession. Heavy smoke pooled in craters pox-marking the floor. In the midst of the deep light and choking smoke, prisms of refracted light filled the air, each a mirror multiplying Saeger's image a hundred times, a thousand. In each light he saw his futures, one as different from the other, each a complex weave of what could be. To look into one until it ended, quickly flitting to the next, Saeger saw whole lifetimes pass. Indistinguishable whispers filled the air and came from the refracted motes of light. All decreeing they knew the best course of action, the only way to succeed in this endeavour and knowing who had the gall to attack what the Black Ships owned.
With a roar Saeger shouted, "Lead not the faithful into temptation!" Pulling his force sword from its scabbard, the blade shone a blinding white in the presence of the tainted Warp. He swung at the prisms. Connecting with a blinding flash, the sword sent the refracted shards spinning into the walls where they shattered.
The horrid whispers ceased.
The barrier between dimensions was paper thin in the lowest holdings. The slightest misstep, the wrong word spoken or thought left loose, a curious glance from something on the other side, could undo the fragile wall barely in place. What the captain said rang true; the unleashed powers of a psyker had nearly destroyed this level. Saeger turned to the man, careful in dictating his words and thoughts precisely.
"Seal this area off. No one is to enter without my expressed permission. A quick death will be given to those whose curiosity gets the better of them. Am I understood?"
Saluting, the captain relayed the orders across his encrypted command channel through the rebreather comm-bead. Saeger glanced into one of the holding cells. Fire had blackened the stone walls and melted the black metal door. A portion of the ceiling had collapsed, bringing down with it one of the psy-dampener units from the upper level. Harmless dust motes floated lazily in the smoky air.
Having investigated the extent of the damage, Saeger and the Arbites captain returned to the upper levels of the ziggurat and the command tent located not far off. Menials from Saeger's coterie moved around the law keepers, commanding records and other notes of interest, hurrying in their tasks. In the center of the controlled mayhem and noise, overseeing their movements, was Gren. Catching sight of Lord Inquisitor Saeger, the Interrogator approached with data-slates in hand and a grave expression on his face. Dread fell over Saeger. Without a word, the Interrogator beckoned his master to follow. Leading him into an adjacent section of the command tent, Gren's servo-skull raised a falsehood and the background hub of noise cut off.
Gren passed his elder a data-slate. The ash green pict showed a fiercely helmed Astartes bearing an ornate black staff, lightning erupting from the palm of his gauntlet hand. It was a figure any Ordo Inquisitor worth their salt knew, a face of infamy and villainy. Eyes thirsted for dark knowledge behind that helmet, a body holding a soul corrupted by it.
"By the Emperor," Saeger made the sign of the aquila. "He dared. The filth surfaces after so long, here in this subsector, and he dares."
"Indeed, without a doubt the arch-heretic Ahriman was here. He led a group of Thousand Sons via Thunderhawk which landed on the ziggurat's roof. We know from detailed reports and other sightings that Ahriman collects a variety of arcana and mystical devices. A powerful psyker is just one of those. Also," Gren hesitantly produced another data-slate.
"Speak your thoughts, Gren. I refuse any of my acolytes to withhold their views."
"Yes, my lord." Gren licked his lips. "A psyker is unaccounted for. I cross-checked with the others kept in the holding cages and viewed the bodies ready for cremation. She is not listed. This psyker is one who was previously held in the lowest levels."
"You are certain?" Saeger's brow furrowed in anger.
"Without a doubt." Gren drew up the information from the data-slate and recited. "Number sixty-five-oh-three. Katea Kith, related to the prominent Kith House on Inno. Standard six Terran years old, her latent abilities were revealed during the Warp storm. Immolated a small group of hired mercenaries and set the Kith wheat fields on fire. I believe once the entirety of the security feeds have been examined, we will see the child, too."
"She was alone in the cell?" Saeger's eyes scanned the readily available information, committing it to memory.
Gren shook his head. He searched the data-slate. "No, another was with her. Both of their powers manifested at the same time, though hers were notably less... prominent. Amara Kith, standard six Terran years old, directly related to the same Kith House and the next heir apparent. She survived the Chaos attack and was pulled from the cell after the fires were brought under control. Emperor's grace, it's a miracle she survived at all."
Saeger's wizened eyes glinted as the seed of a thought was planted. "You have done very well, Interrogator Gren. Where is this child now?"
"In the holding cages. I will take you to see her-"
The Lord Inquisitor was already moving. He passed through the falsehood barrier and the press of bodies in the command tent, his stride growing until he was almost running. Under heavy watch from armoured Arbites and Inquisitorial storm troopers, the holding cell kept those doomed to board the Black Ship penned in. Pass the electrified fence and psy-dampener generators, shadowed and haggard faces stared out at the world. To one side crouched a little girl, shunned by the others. Gren pointed her out to Saeger.
"Amara Kith, my lord. She hasn't spoken or moved since her confinement here, not even when I tried to coax words from her. Whatever she was privy to hearing and seeing when Chaos came, she refuses to be forthcoming. I don't believe she'll speak at all. Perhaps the traitors thought she would burn alive in the cell."
"What is her exact relation to the missing psyker?"
"Cousins, to be precise. Both were officially stricken from the Kith House records after their psychic powers were confirmed, which isn't surprising, and they were-"
"'Few are those who stand before the tainted and remain pure, to leave them without cause is a sin unto itself'." The Lord Inquisitor clutched his rosette seal. "Do you not feel this moment, Gren? How the Emperor has guided us here for a colossal undertaking? This child survived an attack by the arch-heretic Ahriman. For reasons we cannot fathom, this child is a sign from His Most Holy, a link, and it will not slip from my fingers."
The Interrogator raised an eyebrow. "I am lost to your reasoning, Lord Saeger."
"Through this child and her cousin, should she yet draw breath, the path to destroying Ahriman is open. The Imperial Tarot spoke to me, Gren, spoke to me and gifted this vast undertaking into my care. I will end one of the greatest scourges in the galaxy. My name will ring in the halls of ancient Terra itself."
Speaking with the force and passion many of the Ordo Hereticus possessed, Saeger overrode the Interrogator's cautionary words. Looking at the child inside the detainment cell with something close to pity, Gren knew the monumental moment for Saeger meant something much worse for the child. Ordering the guards to admit him entry, the Inquisitor Lord touched the golden aquila pinned to his cloak. An old habit, a trait he had never broken from in his days as a noviate. The Arbites guards let the Inquisitor enter without contest, the chain-linked door rolling back. The psykers inside looked up with wide eyes and thundering hearts.
Timid and cowed, they moved like a flight of migratory birds upon seeing the great figure in power armour enter. Glancing briefly above him where one of many psy-dampener were placed, Saeger spared a withering look to the untouchables of Imperial society. Weak fools, cursed insipid souls. It sickened Saeger that the Imperium took its strength from people who could not properly control it themselves, thus allowing a deadly contamination to seep into the Materium. For men of his spiritual calibre to ferry these beings to their demise, Saeger felt his purity diminished in close contact to them.
Saeger considered the child he approached. Her skin bubbled and peeled across a red face and thin arms. Who would waste a medicae kit on a child bound to die? Amara Kith still wore the psy-collar and cuffs, soot-blackened with the machine spirit faithfully binding her powers. Her expression was vacant, green eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Sweat soaked blonde hair lay plastered to a raw scalp. Hunched over with knees tucked up under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs, she was the picture of perfect misery.
Kneeling down, Saeger was taken aback when the girl lifted her face to look at him fully. Her cracked lips moved.
"I hate them."
"Who, child?"
"The ones who took Katea away. I hate them."
The sheer intensity behind those few words assured the Lord Inquisitor of the future personality Amara Kith would bear. He could use such anger, cultivate and bind it to the God-Emperor's will and his personal dogma. "Does your hatred burn bright against the followers of Chaos who took Katea from you? Do you know the cost of the words you use?"
The girl nodded once. "Yes."
"What would you do for revenge?"
"I want to find and kill them. Each one of them. I want to bring Katea home. I promised to keep her safe." Wetness pooled at the edge of her eyes. Tears began to spill over. "I told Katea we wouldn't be apart. I promised."
Resting a hand on the girl's shoulder, Saeger stated, "The God-Emperor knows of your promise. Do you know who I am?" A shake of the girl's head made the Lord Inquisitor laugh. "I am Lord Inquisitor Saeger of the Ordo Hereticus. It is my pious duty, given by the God-Emperor Himself, to hunt down and exterminate the forces of Chaos wherever they hide. My hatred is my shield, my unyielding faith becomes the sword by which I take their lives. I can ensure your revenge against Chaos."
"I want my revenge," she answered. The smile twisting her face did not belong to a child. Grabbing Saeger's hands in both of hers, the girl pulled herself upright. "I want to bring Katea home. What do I have to do?"
Saeger held out the small rosette seal of his office. "This is a small thing. Small, but it holds great power. I will teach you how to use this power effectively with your hate driving you on. Tell me your name, girl, so I know who my acolyte will be."
"Amara Kith."
"Amara Kith," Saeger intoned, marking the Imperial aquila on her soot-covered brow. "You will learn the galaxy is a harsh place. The only way Mankind can survive is for us, the servants of the undying Emperor, to be harsher yet. Steel your anger, for it will take you far."
Twilight fell over Ulsan like a grieving shawl. The city was quiet, its people humbled and following the sounds of church bells to their compline prayers. Surveying the capital city of Inno, a mere speck against the landscape, the planet a grain of sand in a cosmos filled by uncounted more, a dark shadow covered Saeger's face. Gren noticed his teacher's frown. His approach was careful, footsteps purposefully loud as he exited the Stormbird.
"What troubles you?"
Saeger turned from the cityscape, eyes hooded. "Ahriman has murdered this world. Stand as my witness to my testimony, Gren, for I swear upon the Golden Throne, I shall end his life."
"A personal crusade, Lord Saeger?" A cool wind kicked up from the high plains, mournfully howling as it whipped down the streets of Ulsan.
"Consider this, Interrogator. How do we know the taint of Chaos has not been sowed in some cloaked fashion? It could be a year, a decade or even centuries before it boils to the surface like some malignant tumour to spread itself. We can never be certain, not when the Dark Powers have come into play. So many lives yet unborn already cut from the fold."
Gren's throat constricted. "We can set a watch. This world isn't dead just yet. The people are hardy, diligent and quick to act. Why, we could even set a company of Grey Kni-"
"We cannot. Already the Inquisition's reach is weak in the Mizar subsector. To stretch ourselves too finely invites disaster, disasters we cannot afford to have. The only way one can be truly sure of the Ruinous Powers never laying claim to Inno is through exterminatus."
Saeger gave the order as though it were a grand proclamation, sweeping his hand across the capital, swatting at it like a fly. Heedless of the lives condemned. The tempest had passed, leaving the air chilled as night fully fell. If the stars heard what the Lord Inquisitor planned for Inno, they could not stop it. Yes, a world of rich resources would be lost to the Imperium, yet compared to have it fall into the claws of Chaos and the souls damned, it was a necessary loss.
"You may be acting too hastily," Gren countered. "We should wait for a divine sign. Consult the Tarot again, start a purity check of the people, but do not call for exterminatus. It's not required."
"Once you have seen what I have and fought what I have fought, you will not think I am acting in haste, Gren. Your naivety will be bled out in time. Follow you duty in my service and heed my orders before we depart. Bring my newest acolyte back to the Black Ships and give her a sleeping cell. Round up the survivors who came into contact with the heretical Astartes and those who tended to the Kiths. I will rendezvous with you in a short while. May the God-Emperor bless and protect you."
Saeger appreciated the landscape of Inno one final time before reciting a quiet benediction to the world. He never hesitated in his actions. He never reneged in his words. He never faltered in his resolve. The image of the Shattered World flashed in Saeger's psyche. How long until the other Tarot cards he dealt would reveal their hand?
When Amara Kith set her feet on the plated deck of the commanding Black Ship, she was struck by the chill. Even in later years she would never forget the way it radiated outward, as though a lump of ice were forming inside her body. Her teeth chattered involuntarily. She curled her fingers and toes in an effort to make them warm, cold even with the heavy brown cloak given to her to wear. Mechanics in heavy suits and crewmen in long coats walked past the child, seemingly indifferent to the cold inside the cavernous docking bay. Perhaps having travelled for so long on the ship, they had acclimatised themselves. Amara exhaled, watching her breath turn into a white plume which dissipated into the rib vaulting high above.
It was dark on the Black Ship. Even with the bright lights from the lumen panels and the sun globes, the darkness clung in the corners and to the edges of the steel walls. Everything lay cast in stark relief; there was little between hard shadow or harsh light. Whether it was because of the nature of the Black Ships or something else, it was offsetting. Amara turned to march back into the transport and the familiar security it offered, only to be stopped by Gren's voice.
"If you're done gawking, follow me." Gren hurried down the ramp of the transport, his servo-skull buzzing after the Interrogator. Holding a canvas bag in its pincer arms the servo-skull clicked in binary at the child. Gren smiled mirthlessly. "Don't get lost. I'm not wasting my time finding you if you do."
He strode down the long embarkation deck. She followed, not wanting to become lost on the strange vessel. She thought the docking bay was loud with metallic crashes and crewmen barking orders; the halls teeming with servants, aides and soldiers were louder yet. The press of bodies made the girl awkward, the faces of the people unwelcoming and too stern. Hastily, she grabbed the hem of Gren's sleeve and held fast. Glancing down briefly, the Interrogator allowed the girl to cower. Having once been in Amara's position, the young man understood the child's anxiety. But Gren's approach was practical. Better for Amara to be thrown into the deep immediately and learn how to swim. He hadn't been given a choice.
"You are aboard one of the many infamous Black Ships which ferry psykers to the Throneworld." Gren side-stepped a lumbering servitor, Amara darting lightning-quick after him. "This isn't the Lord Inquisitor's personal flagship; he is charged in the safe delivery of this fleet. He will bring the annual tithe to its ultimate end."
Amara let her eyes wander. She passed black marble statues of long-forgotten heroes in solemn state, looked up as cherubs flew overhead with incense wafting from the thuribles they held, touched the gold filigree patterning the walls. The vaulting ceiling was a criss-cross of iron girders and stain glass windows looking out into the stars beyond. In every nook and cranny, altars to the Emperor and His various saints were displayed. Some people between work shifts knelt in the middle of prayers before the shrines. Gren's voice brought Amara back to the present, her eyes latching on to the bald spot of his tonsured hair.
"Your training will begin immediately. You're Lord Saeger's newest pupil, but don't think you'll get off lightly because of your age. You should rid yourself of any notions of easy living in an Inquisitor's service. Whatever you were use to on Inno, you'll find the opposite here. When Lord Saeger is involved with higher affairs, I will be your tutor. I hope for your sake you learn fast." Gren smiled. Amara was unsure if he was making a joke or being serious.
Crossing over walkways where the heights and spinning depths underneath left Amara with vertigo, Gren hurried Amara into a lift. It whispered upwards, passing by levels too quick for the foundling child to see what was happening on them but hearing the hubbub so many voices created. The cold from the docking bay intensified. Amara clutched her stomach in discomfort.
"The Black Ships are heavily guarded against psychic manifestations from both within and without. What you sense beyond the basic physical," Gren tapped Amara's head, "are the null barriers protecting the upper levels from what's below. Think of it like the psy-collar you wear, only to a greater degree and ship-wide. Heed my words, don't go down to the lower decks. Keep to the upper levels and where you're designated to go and everything will be fine."
The lift stopped after an eternity, its doors hissing open to reveal a corridor flooded with light from burning sconces. White and black veined marble pillars flanked either side of the hall, portholes between the pillars revealing the star scape. Embossed in gold on the black granite floor, the Imperial aquila's wings were spread wide, its eyes forever vigilant. Stepping onto the landing, Gren patiently waited for Amara to follow. In the end, the servo-skull gave her a vigorous push to spur her out of the lift. There were less aides and armoured guards in the upper levels, replaced by officers wearing braided storm grey uniforms and figures in power armour. The noise was significantly less, voices never rising above a polite murmur.
"Follow me. We'll soon be at the observation platform. From there," Gren paused, deliberating in his words. Inno hung heavy on the aft-side of the Black Ships fleet. "You can see your home world for the last time. As an acolyte, you only give obeisance to Lord Saeger and the captain of the Black Ships. The Lord Inquisitor's retinue will be introduced to you; be polite to them. You don't have to talk with them unless you want to, but it would be to your advantage to get to know- "
A white robed figure knocked into Gren. Arms encircled his waist tightly, the diminutive person a sharp contrast to the tall Interrogator in black. Surprised by the sudden appearance, Gren looked down at the upturned face of Selina, the Lord Inquisitor's personal prophetess. He smiled tightly, almost painfully, and when he spoke his tone was hard-edged.
"Hello, Selina. Did you run away from your keeper again?"
She put a finger to her lips. Why Lord Saeger kept an abomination such as Selina close remained a mystery to many; Saeger's contempt for psykers was well-known. Gren limited his encounters with Selina, fearing on some level of having a prophecy aligned to him spoken. He held little desire to know his future. Saved from the dark holds of the Black Ships, her prophecies were curses. Bouts assailed the girl, her voice and mannerisms changing in the span of heartbeats, unsettling the most stalwart in her presence.
"Who is that?" One voluminous sleeve gestured to Amara.
"Lord Saeger's newest pupil. You have your answer, now take your leave."
Gren pried her loose. Selina, now fixated on Amara, stared at her as though she were an exotic beast. Something passed over her face, a ripple across the skin, a fire lighting the eyes. Gren waved his hand in front of the prophetess' face. When he tried to forcefully push her away, she squirmed out of Gren's grip to sidle up alongside Amara. Aged wrinkles gathered at the corners of Selina's eyes.
"What's your name?" Selina twisted the rag doll she carried. When no answer came, she pressed closer and repeated her question. Amara, expression haggard, looked to Gren for assistance.
Gren sighed. "You might as well answer her. Once she's found someone who interests her, Selina won't leave them be until she's given answers."
Reassured, the girl answered, "Amara Kith."
Selina snapped her fingers. "I thought as much. I was travelling the halls and Tasha whispered for me to come this way. I was told to talk with you. Yes, yes, I am doing just that right now. No worries." Rocking the rag doll in her arms, Selina smiled. "You are sad, Amara Kith, very sad. You shouldn't be. Those saved by the Inquisitor Lord are bound for a better life. Aren't you saved?"
Amara nodded once. "I am."
"May I see your hand?" The question was abrupt, the subject change sudden. Selina grabbed Amara's hand before she could answer. Selina's body seized up upon contact, eyes clouding over in a filming white substance. "Ah, Tasha was right about you. You are so sad... and angry. Very angry. This isn't good."
Her voice changed pitch, rising octaves higher. Gren could not step in and forcibly remove Selina; to do so might jarr whatever connection the prophetess held open. Her abilities were wild and, unknowing what could be pulled from the maw of the future, the Interrogator did nothing. Amara was too stunned to do more than freeze in place, looking at the change overcoming Selina. The lump of ice in her gut roiled, pain lancing into her chest.
Gasping suddenly, from shock or revulsion, Selina dropped her rag doll and broke contact. Tears gathered at the corners of her old eyes, the iris and pupil returning to their original state. "Why would you do those things? Such horrible things. They just wanted to help you. They trusted you."
"What things? What did you see, Selina?" Gren attempted to grab the prophetess. She balled her hands into fists and swung wildly with her rag doll, hitting Gren's arm. He let her go, pushing her back.
"To your keeper, girl. Lord Saeger will be informed of this. If you will not tell me, you will explain everything to him."
Spluttering nonsense words with a growl, Selina ran down one of the many side corridors and vanished from sight. Amara stood numbly, staring after the crazed being allowed to walk free. Gren led Amara on without a word until they reached the observation deck. Ornately decorated brass rails circled the edge of the landing where, beyond a vast dome, Inno hung in the void. Others were already assembled, people who played instrumental roles on the Lord Inquisitor's staff nodding to Gren. He jostled for a place at the front, pushing Amara ahead of him so she might see the planet. She vacantly stared ahead, her mind elsewhere, unaware that this first view of her world was also her last.
Gren placed a hand on Amara's shoulder to stir her from her pensive thoughts. "Don't listen to her words. Selina has no clue to what she sees or what she says."
"She's crazy. I don't like her."
"Neither do I. It might amaze you to know how many people don't want her here. Some think she belongs back in the lower holds." Beside him, Gren's servo-skull wove back and forth in the air as though agreeing.
"I don't think I can trust anyone here. My grandfather and mother weren't there, and just now," Amara trailed off without finishing her thought.
"Amara," Gren said. "Out of all the people in all of the Imperium, you can trust in me. You have my word."
A familiar litany. What a little girl had promised another in a dark cell not long ago and had been unable to uphold. Amara looked at the upturned palm Gren held out to her, then to the plain face. His smile held warmth, more than what Amara saw in Saeger, or even her grandfather. Amara was unsure in believing the words people spoke. Everything was hollow, nothing transparent. She cast her gaze to the others about the deck; hooded figures, hunch-backed adepts, even members of the Ecclesiarchy were present. People she intrinsically felt said one thing and meant another. No, not to be trusted.
Gren now, he was different.
A snap decision. Would it haunt her in the years to come? Without knowing, Amara rested her hand in Gren's. "I trust you."
An organ thundered, its pealing notes echoing into the darkness of the Black Ships. Through an adjacent door, Lord Inquisitor Saeger appeared. People bowed as the Hereticus Inquisitor made his way through their ranks. Stepping to the fore of the ornate observation deck, Saeger gestured imperiously. A Pontifex Astra of the Ecclesiarchy stepped forward, the scarlet red of his robes denoting his high office, holding a gold-bound tome in liver spotted hands. Handing the book to the Lord Inquisitor, the preacher turned to address the assembled.
"We bear witness to the ending of a world's life. Extinguished from the galaxy, souls to be guided to the God-Emperor's light, Inno's taint will be unable to spread and infect the Mizar subsector. Let us pray for those whose blessed ignorance covers their eyes. Let us pray for those as they are released from these mortal coils." He made the sign of the aquila. "A spiritu dominatus, domine, libra nos, from the lighting and the tempest, Our Emperor, deliver us."
The hymnal was repeated in solemnity. Amara Kith's lips moved quietly; she remembered the Kith family chapel and Father Curasso's sermons. Saeger towered next to her, a judge to billions of souls, watching her movements. Discordant notes blared from the organ. The incense weaved through the air, its tendrils heavy enough to choke on. It was a moment where nothing made sense and everything did, the Pontifex Astra's voice rising over the hymnal score.
"Love the Emperor, for He is the salvation of Mankind. Obey His words for He will lead you into the light of the future. Heed his wisdom, for He will protect you from evil. Whisper His prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul. Honour His servants, for they speak in His voice. Tremble before His majesty, for we all walk in His immortal shadow."
The prayer ended. Saeger's deep eyes bored into Amara's soul and his words resounded to all present. "Watch your home cleansed in holy fire, child. Know you have been saved by the God-Emperor's grace and from this day onward, your debt to Him begins."
The exterminatus began.
Amara hid in Gren's shadow to watch Inno's final moments. Fiery blossoms erupted across gold and green fields, purging life from the verdant agri-world. Crops incinerated in moments, the legacy of the Inno Houses with their petty feuding wiped away. A slate cleaned with nothing new to be written on it. She averted her eyes as waves of cyclonic torpedoes fell away from the fleet, cracking open Inno's crust, expelling fire from within. Amara's eyes watered at the sight, her fear of fire stemming from traumatic memories. Katea had burnt the men slowly, the fire in the cell had been a scorching inferno, the bodies of the dead psykers tossed on to reeking pyres of death still vivid.
Everything was changing and nothing would be right again. Selina's words, Gren's promise, Saeger's looming presence; a nauseating sensation kicked Amara in the stomach. Bile rose in her throat as a choir sang to Inno's death keel. A planet's annihilation, which should have inspired an apocalyptic opera or a dramatic work of art, only brought out the intense sensation of a nightmare forming in the young child.
Amara Kith retched on the carpeted floor and was ushered away to the apothecary to have her psy-bindings removed.
Sequestered in his reclusium, the chamber shaped in the likeness of a pyramid with walls of panelled glass, Ahriman was unable to find any peace. His agitation made it difficult to slip into a trance. The psionic crystals drifting about the reclusium glowed a dull red, echoing to the state of his aura, their colour casting the room in a blood red glow. The sorcerer's concentration hadn't been the same after Inno. He still heard the screams of the child echoing in his mind, panicked and shrill. Her psychic emanation was seeping into the Khermuti even now, disrupting the mental planes of each of the Thousand Sons without thought or care.
Ahriman exhaled sharply. Burning eyes snapped open, his upturned palms closing into fists without realising the motion. In all places aboard the Khermuti, his one sanctuary was no longer his own.
One of the psionic crystals flashed. Irritated, Ahriman waved it aside with a thought, observing its tumbling dance through the air. It continued to shimmer, the light growing stronger. Someone's attempt to contact him was insistent. Summoning his black staff into his hands, Ahriman rose to his feet in one fluid motion, exiting the sanctity of his reclusium to see what was so important.
A single figure waited in the antechamber beyond, balancing a garnet orb across bare knuckles, deftly twisting it into the palm of his large hand before it could fall. Osis Pathoth gave a small nod to Ahriman, his vague smile irritating. Ahriman regarded the other and uttered a single question.
"What is it?"
"The master of the vessel emerges," the vizier's remark was caustic. "Have you been granted a vision to where we must be led to next? Your idleness is vexing some."
Ahriman smiled in return, no mirth held in the expression. "For you to be walking so soon after your primary heart's injury, are you unwise enough to not choose a more careful battle? Or will you now be the prolocutor between all the Sons and myself?"
"I advise when it becomes necessary, such as now. Tzeentch takes care of those with designs yet completed. Tell me," Pathoth spun the orb, "I heard a curious murmuring while the apothecary mended my wound. How loud peoples' minds become when their lips are stitched shut. Medicae suppressants to be given to the child?"
Ahriman stalked around the antechamber. "I have my reasons, the least to preserve the sanctity of my vessel. The apothecary is concocting an opiate to bring her to heel. I dare not take off those psy-bindings until she's been properly subdued. Never have I heard a child scream so much, or seen a whelp so poorly-raised. You witnessed what nearly happened in the arming bay."
"Bless the Dark Gods the Khermuti's void shields work as they should."
"Preparing the cell alone cost me greatly. Triple wards and bindings inscribed into the walls to contain her emotional upheaval, and I can still sense it from here. Her unrefined talent exceeds my expectations, but I won't be caught off guard." Ahriman's voice grew louder as he justified his actions. "Do not be daft in saying you are above it, Pathoth. A stupor is required for the time being. Curbing the child of any impulses until she knows who her betters are."
"Do you intend to make her life one of drug-induced stupefaction? Who knows what damage will happen to her mind, let alone her body. The child is too frail right now, too confused." The vizier clicked his tongue. "Allow me to talk reason to a child where your lofty mind fails to reach. Tell the apothecary to flush his poisons. No medicine will be required."
"Where does this arrogance of yours stem from?" Ahriman stopped his tirade, levelling a hostile gaze at Pathoth.
"To spite you," Pathoth stated. "Should I fail and die, my body crushed by the untested powers of this psyker, you have the pleasure of jettisoning my remains into the void, no?"
"Your feeble attempt to aggravate is noted. Your endeavour, suicidal as it is, will be allowed. Seeing your brains dashed against a bulkhead might improve my disquiet."
He ruminated over the image, finding it suited his mood. Ahriman's black thoughts turned inwards. Once properly bound to his service, nothing remained unfeasible for the psyker to accomplish. Magnus would be hard pressed to not admit a mortal of such calibre has its uses. Even without his precognition, Ahriman saw the distant future arranged. Perhaps with the child's powers fettered to his, Ahriman could tutor Magnus to the grave error made in his banishment...
Osis Pathoth abruptly turned in Ahriman's direction. Whether it was Ahriman's words or a slip of his ambitious thoughts rising to the surface, the Vizier to the Magus gave no acknowledgement. Ahriman quickly spoke to mask his sentiments.
"Has our Primarch been notified to my raid against the Black Ships?"
"I have not spoken to the Primarch in some time."
"Now would be an opportune moment to inform Magnus I have reached the conclusion of the Jollana scroll's prophecy," Ahriman said.
"In the end," Pathoth's voice slipped into a neutral tone, "it is Lord Magnus who decides your return. Whatever acts you undertake to impress will do little to influence his ultimate decision."
"Surely," Ahriman vexed, "he will want to know of this, advisor."
"Come the next time I engage in conversation with him, he shall."
"Within the next cycle, of course." Ahriman's implied command, arrogant and put so blithely, raised Pathoth's choler. Suppressing his ego and reciting a mantra of calm, Pathoth reined in a violence which rose frighteningly quick. He knew the grand sorcerer's personality, knew his lay in direct opposition, and what he had sworn to commit and uphold to in the name of the Crimson King.
"After I see the child and presumably survive the encounter, it will be done, Lord Ahriman."
Given leave, Osis Pathoth traversed the ever-shifting corridors of the Khermuti to arrive at the threshold of the warding chambers. Beyond the heavy doors where runes ever-shifted in the stillness of the air, Ahriman's barriers protecting the starship, Pathos found Bethos waiting. Nodding in acknowledgement, the Thousand Son wordlessly pointed ahead of him. While the vizier's wounds were being treated, Bethos stood in Pathoth's stead and watched over the confinement of the child psyker.
Kept in the center of a great sunken amphitheatre on bloodied knees, silver chains encircling her tiny body, the child looked anything but dangerous. Inside great interlocking circles, wherein thaumaturgy symbols wove themselves about, the tremendous psychic emanations the child threw off were halted. Likened to a great wall of water held back by glass, the tiniest crack would spell doom if the protective spells were not secure. Her psy-bindings remained on, blackened from the fire. A servant had shorn off a great deal of her long hair, the fire having left great red welts along her scalp.
"Repulsive," Pathoth murmured to himself.
Dismissing Bethos, the Vizier of the Magus descended the staircase and crossed the expanse until he stood over the child. Transferring his staff into his left hand as he knelt, Pathoth removed his helm with the right, actions mirroring the past in the Jollana Librarium. Close to a century and he still remembered the face of the sprite-child who engaged him in conversation. When the same face looked upwards, eyes bloodshot and fearful, Pathoth did not register surprise or shock as lesser mortals would. He merely nodded his head, pleased in Tzeentch's will to set the future in motion.
"Such a shame," he began, keeping his tone purposefully low. "Someone cut off your long hair. It will grow back, just as your wounds will heal without scars. How fortunate your burns are only superficial."
The girl shook her head, a clump of blonde hair falling to the floor. "I want to go home," she sobbed. Even with the psy-bindings and aegis' in place, her coarse power was barely contained, yearning to rip free.
"This is your home now."
"I want my mother. I want-"
"Thisis your home now." Channelling a measure of substantial will into his words, Pathoth's statement stopped the girl's tears. "I am Osis Pathoth, Vizier to Magnus the Red, the Crimson King and Daemon Prince to the Lord of Change. These names and titles mean nothing to you now, but the weight they carry will be one you shall come to know. You do not know of me, or what I am, but I have known of you for a long while, child. Your future was written before your birth."
Puffy red eyes glared at the sorcerer. "Where's my cousin? She promised to be with me."
"Your cousin is dead. Your family did not want you. The Imperium and your God-Emperor despise people such as yourself, for the power and potential you hold." He continued, watching the child shake her head as she grew distraught. "You will be given a new name for your rebirth."
"My name is Katea!" Her bonds shook. The metal links began to bend.
"There is no more Katea. She died on Inno, taken by flames and death." Osis Pathoth looked into the child's eyes, arresting her convulsions. "From this point on, only Neferuaat exists."