First fanfic on this site after being a reader for a decade! Let me know what you think with a review please, any feedback is appreciated :)


It was the smell… The smell is what he could never grow accustomed to. Inquisitor Vashal had grown numb to the sight of this kind of Heresy decades ago, but something about the stench of rotting corpses, evacuated bowels and blood stuck with him. It smelled like primordial fear.

With a squad of Guardsman at his back he strode on, knowing his veterans were trained well enough to… cleanse the place, as he searched for those in charge. Two heavy weapon soldiers had been chosen to carry flamers, best suited for cleansing the symbols of Chaos. The rest of them were armored for speed, there was not time to lose here, the Planet's Governor had summoned them quickly upon discovery of the heretics.

After months of fighting in the alleys of the hive city, they'd managed to find a warehouse that appeared to operate as a home for the cult. The whole building had felt wrong, some deep unseated warning from the early days of humanity told him to turn back, that this way meant death. But he did not falter in his steps as they carried him through its defiled halls.

Down winding hallways and through blood-soaked rooms with the dreaded star of Chaos on every wall they traveled, the air growing heavier, their breaths shorter as reality itself shrieked in terror at the Neverborn trying to claw in. With Flamer and Lasgun's they destroyed any altars they came across, never slowing for too long.

He could feel it now, in that part of him that recoiled from the touch of the Immaterium, the remaining cultists were near, and something was horribly wrong. Gripping his power sword tightly he gestured for two soldiers to lead the way into the site of this heresy.

When they passed through the doorway, the room opened and a cabal of cultists blessed by the dark gods were arrayed around the symbol of chaos formed from mutilated bodies, no words were spoken, he was not some greenhorn inquisitor, the order was given and the Guardsman opened fire.

Plasma and flames seared across the room to engulf the cultists, their screams echoing for all to hear. Lasgun shots darted to their targets heads, punching through in a single shot. His men acted professionally and cleanly, he had trained them well. While they had the element of surprise it could not last forever and soon fire was being returned. But they were not a terrified PDF ill equipped for the job, they were the soldiers of the Emperor, and with ruthless efficiency the heretics were cleansed.

Flesh burned, blood boiled, explosions tore the cultists apart as they slowly pushed towards the ritual. Stepping over dismembered and eviscerated cultists, Inquisitor Vashal felt a brief stirring of hope, perhaps they had been early enough this time…

But hope is a lie, another tool of the Dark Gods with which to torment humanity and as the Inquisitor drew closer to the symbol, it sparked with the blood of dying, whimpering cultists drawn into the horrid sigil. Scrambling to stop it, Inquisitor Vashal drew upon what meager connection to the warp he had and drove his psychic might in like an arrow through water.

"Soldiers! Burn the circle! Destroy it! This connects deep within the warp and I cannot say what is trying to come through!" He screamed, urgency and determination in his voice as he continued to slow the tide of chaos flooding the Materium.

The soldiers only hesitated a moment, their commanding officer clearly in the path of the fire, but he was proud to say they did not hesitate long. The fire from his two heavy weapon specialists came quickly, and while he did his best to protect from the searing flames, there were more important matters.

*No hesitation, no regret. I served unto death. I will rejoin the Emperor on Holy Terra with pride…* with a final push, and with the rituals focal point burning, the raw stuff of chaos did what it always does and destroyed itself, creating a gaping maw to the Immaterium. Vashal was too close and only had a second to cover himself in devotion and duty before he was lost to the churning tides of the warp, catching one last glimpse of his personal guard burning the cursed site to the ground.


He was falling, he was flying, he was then and this is now. The beasts were clawing at his skin at his mind at his soul eternally for a second forever. He had been falling for an instant, he had sank for a millenia, the warp cared not for his mortal mind trying to survive the waves of imagination.

But then, light, reason, warmth, a raft in this madness. He swam towards it, guided by a faint golden light, unknown and yet feeling as if he had known it his whole life. He grasped onto this last shred of reality, and closed his eyes to the daemons screeching at the golden light which pulled him away.

He could smell it now, something new, something real, grass and soil and air. Oh Holy Emperor on Terra guide him from this madness. As he neared the real, the physical, the Neverborns made their final attempt. A million hands grasping at his soul, trying to find purchase, a crack in his faith. He steeled himself, armoured himself in hate and vengeance, and allowed the Golden Light to place him where it willed.

With a final defeated shriek, they release him, burning from contact, and he fell once more, passing from the sea of souls.


With a sickening thud he impacted what felt like a concrete wall. Letting out a wet choking cough he began to laugh, baring his teeth even as blood leaked from his mouth. "Twice have you tried to claim my soul, you could not have it then, you will not take it now."

Basking in warm sunlight he felt peace. The ground felt rough and coarse, covered in grime and dirt but no longer feeling like pride. The air smelled of trash and human waste, but no longer tasted of deceit. He could hear murmuring voices growing closer, likely attracted by his rather abrupt re-entry to the Materium, and yet they were not the voices of Daemon's whispering the secrets of long dead gods, but confused citizens.

By the Emperor's grace he had survived. Was the Golden Light merely a fraction of His presence? Terra what it must be like in his presence. Such warmth and familiarity, the Inquisitor was unsure if he would ever be able to leave The Emperor's side…

"Uh… Sir?" He cracked an eye open, the light was blinding but his surroundings remained distinct and unchanging at least. Two figures stood over him, looking down with concern. The first was a tall broad shouldered man with graying brown hair and a full beard, his blue eyes filled with questions. The second, appearing as a younger version of the first, was presumably his son, he was staring with barely contained curiosity at the Inquisitor. They were both dressed in rather strange cloth clothing, too many colors, too chaotic… and yet that color was muted, covered in dirt, factory workers perhaps?

No... the sunlight and lack of towering city scape lead him to believe this was an Agri-World of some kind, no hive city was this well maintained, meaning he'd need to find his location ASAP. "You uh, you doin alright down there son? You look like you went 10 rounds with a Beowolf…"

Oh, they were still talking to him. It was always rather quaint being unrecognized in the far reaches of the galaxy… he always missed the light in their eyes after he told them he was an Inquisitor.

Fumbling for his pouch and coughing a bit of blood up as he did, Good Guilliman that fall must have done some damage to him, he finally found his rosette and presented it to the men above him, "I am, Inquisitor Ishmael Vashal, I require the aid of your planetary governor and a ship capable of rendezvous with my Soldiers in Segmentum Ultima…" He trailed off, puzzled as instead of fear and paranoia over the presence of an Inquisitor, he saw only confusion and doubt.

"Well, we don't have a… planetary governor, per say, but maybe you can speak to the police and they'll be able to… help…" The father trailed off himself, both parties completely bewildered at the existence of the other.

Ishmael coughed again, pulling his hand away from his mouth and grimacing at the red staining his gloves now. Realizing he needed medical attention, he relented, "Very well, bring me to your local officials… maybe an apothecary first…definitely the apothecary first…" A hacking cough slipped out once more, as the father rushed to get aid, his son knelt down, careful of the blood pooling. "Uh, Sir, you're not… an alien, right? I mean ya look human but, this alley was empty last we checked and uh, well, you sure look like ya fell from the stars haha… n-no offense."

Ishmael couldn't help it, hacking, wheezing coughs echoed in the alley, as his laughter could not be contained. Him! An Alien! A member of the Holy Inquisition, the idea was tantamount to heresy, if not outright heretical. He was going to have a serious conversation with whichever idiot was ruling this planet. Perhaps her people could be taught but clearly the leadership had faltered in their duty. Looking up at the now very nervous young man he grinned with bloody teeth, "No, I am no *xenos*, child. I am a member of the Inquisition, The Emperor's Left Hand, and we do not suffer the xenos to live while humanity still has breath."

His energy expended for the moment he fell back into the wall, neck craning up and taking in the bright blue sky. A beautiful sight… after a century spent fighting in the pits of hive worlds and the fields of death worlds… it was beautiful…

He noticed a sour look on the boys face as he stood up, his arms crossed in a position of defiance, "N-Now you listen here, I'm not gonna listen to you talk like that, Vale doesn't need more people angry at the Faunus. My pops and I have made plenty of friends with them and I won't stand for you threatening them."

Ice, that is what he felt in his veins at that moment. He knew many of the Xenos in the galaxy, his travels had taken him near Tau space often enough, but Faunus was one he did not know… was this world consorting with Xenos? Perhaps the humans here had been misled by them. No, no this would not do. With the knowledge he had, being taken into the custody of Xenos forces was not tolerated.

Muttering a prayer to the Emperor, he struggled for the strength to stand, the boy seeming to forget his previous anger as he tried to convince the Inquisitor to stay sitting while help was called. But he would not have it, Duty only ends in death and he was not dead, he needed to escape, somewhere secluded and make contact with the Imperium…

"Hey!" Oh joy, the father had found help, "You really shouldn't be moving, you've lost a lotta blood!" Ah… this, this is the part he despised most… these were good people, people who had offered aid with no reward, who extended a hand in good faith. But he had his duty, he would not falter. Gripping the son's wrist and spinning both of them around he faced the other end of the alley, brandishing a plasma pistol at the boy's head.

Mouth open, expecting to make demands of hostile foes, monstrous Xenos from Humanity's nightmares, he paused to reassess the situation upon seeing strangely dressed children, seemingly the same age as his new captive.

Them being children gave him pause for but a second, he had fought plenty of cultists their age, heresy came at all ages, but again, the colors on their clothes, why was this place so Emperor damned bright! There were two more humans, thank terra, accompanying the father now. One nearing his height, with flowing blonde hair and rather risque apparel. She had violet eyes though, a sign of chaos, he would need to find out what had caused that on this planet before leaving. The other was a full head or two shorter, with somewhat more reasonable red and black attire, although sorely lacking in armor, along with a head of black hair.

Gathering his resolve, blood loss, it must be the blood loss making him hesitate, he issued his demands. "You and your son have offered me aid and I have no wish to kill you," it was true, he didn't wish to, but that had never stopped him before, "but I cannot allow you to take me into custody. Allow me to go and I promise no harm will come to your son."

"Woah hold on buddy no one's taking you into custody," the blonde one spoke first, stepping forward with confidence, her hands held up placatingly, "the old man here just said some crazy guy was dying in an alley and needed to get to the hospital. Put the gun down before anyone gets hurt. Okay?" She had no armor, no weapons, and yet was not phased by him. Either this world was full of insanity, perhaps even eugh, pacifists, or she was a psyker of some kind.

"One more step, and I will assume you are all hostile. I have given you an offer far more generously than many of my colleagues, accept it and this planet will be spared." He needed to move fast, his energy was waning, he needed privacy to bandage himself and figure out what to do but they were drawing this out.

"Well we tried the easy way I guess, can't blame us now," The blonde had placed her hands on her hips, he began to squeeze the trigger, certain attack would come soon. However, he was denied the chance, when a weight landed atop him and fought for control of his plasma pistol.

Yelling a curse he drove an arm back into his attacker, angered at how little force was behind it, feeling like he had impacted another wall. The first two children took this chance to rush in, the shorter one grabbing his hostage and the blonde tackling him as well. As they pinned him to the ground, he realized his situation. His body had failed him, the blood loss too great to fight back against two non-combatant children… he would not lose like this.

Determination filled him, stealing his mind with vengeance and fury he opened himself to the Sea of Souls and felt- Calm? Washing over with a wave of peace and warmth, he closed himself off quickly but the feeling filled him deeply, and soon he was being carried into slumber under the weight of contentment.