Inquisitor Greyfax moved with purpose through the streets of Macragge, her heavy boots silent on the cobblestone paths. The aftermath of the recent Chaos incursion still echoed in the ruined edifices and the grim faces of its citizens. The Ultramarines, under the revived Primarch Roboute Guilliman, had repelled the immediate threat, but the insidious nature of Chaos was not so easily banished. It lingered in shadows, in whispered heresies, and sometimes, in the very souls of the unwary.

Greyfax was no stranger to rooting out such corruption. Her entire existence was dedicated to the eradication of the Imperium's enemies, both overt and hidden. The data-slate in her hand, a litany of names and histories, was the result of painstaking work by her retinue, cross-referencing, and validating every citizen's background for any sign of taint.

One name had caught her eye—an anomaly. A woman whose life appeared meticulously ordinary, so much so that it screamed deception to Greyfax's experienced senses. Her background was an expert fabrication, flawless but for the absence of genuine substance. No misdeeds marred her record, yet no deeds of note graced it either. An invisibility so deliberate was a mark of guilt in the Inquisitor's eyes.

What piqued Greyfax's interest further was the woman's daughter, given up to the Adepta Sororitas' monastery with scant explanation. Such an act could be noble, or it could be a ruse, a way to hide something—or someone—of significance from prying eyes.

The address led Greyfax to a modest dwelling at the edge of the city, where the architecture grew less grand and the shadows deeper. The house was unremarkable, blending seamlessly with its neighbors. Greyfax observed it from across the street for a moment, her presence unnoticed by the passersby. Then, with the decisive stride of a predator, she crossed the threshold and approached the door.

She did not knock. Instead, she activated the runes of authority on her rosette, the Inquisitorial insignia compelling compliance. The door unlocked before her touch, and she stepped into the dimly lit interior.

The woman was there, alone, seated at a simple wooden table, poring over papers that seemed as innocuous as her supposed life. She looked up, her expression one of mild surprise that did not reach her eyes. Those eyes, when they met Greyfax's, held a depth that belied her ordinary facade.

"Inquisitor," she said, her voice calm, betraying no hint of fear or guilt. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Greyfax closed the door behind her, the sound a definitive seal on the woman's fate, one way or another. "You are aware, no doubt, of the recent turmoil that has beset this planet," Greyfax began, her voice devoid of warmth. "The Archtraitor's forces have been repelled, but the taint remains. It is my duty to root out any remnants that threaten the Imperium's purity."

The woman nodded, a gesture of acquiescence or perhaps acceptance. "And you believe I am one of these remnants?" she asked, her composure unshaken.

"Your background raises questions," Greyfax replied, her gaze piercing. "Fabricated histories are the refuge of spies, heretics, and worse. You will explain the discrepancies and the true nature of your relationship with the child given to the Sororitas."

The woman's gaze faltered for the briefest of moments, a crack in her veneer that Greyfax noted with predatory interest. Yet, she replied with a measured tone, "My life is not what it seems, Inquisitor, but not for the reasons you suspect. My daughter was born under... unusual circumstances. Circumstances that I believed would put her in danger if she remained with me."

Greyfax listened, her expression unchanging, as the woman's voice held a tone of desperation, she told the Inquisitor that it is not what she thinks. It was a narrative Greyfax had heard in countless variations, each ending invariably in tragedy or betrayal.

Yet, there was something in the woman's words, a thread of truth that resonated with the Inquisitor's own experiences. Greyfax knew the galaxy was a vast and dark place, filled with terrors that could drive the stoutest heart to despair. And within that darkness, there were lights, rare and fleeting, that fought to shine.

The Inquisitor made her decision, one that would alter the course of several lives this day. "Under order of the Inquisition," she finally said, "you are under the suspicion of heresy. We will see whether your actions merit forgiveness or damnation. I suggest that you come quietly."

"I will do as you ask." She allowed herself to be placed in cuffs and then they walked off.

Inquisitor Greyfax, ever vigilant and uncompromising, had not allowed sentimentality to cloud her judgment. Despite the woman's lack of visible taint, Greyfax's duty to the Imperium and its unyielding laws dictated her actions. The woman was arrested, her claims to be investigated thoroughly and with extreme prejudice. Greyfax was no stranger to the dark truths that often lurked behind seemingly innocent façades, and she would not be swayed by stories alone.

The woman was placed in a secure cell, standard procedure for those under the suspicion of heresy, especially when potential ties to Chaos were involved. Greyfax's orders were clear: the woman was to be examined by the local Sister Hospitaller to verify any signs of physical corruption or otherworldly influence. Such examinations were routine, yet necessary steps in determining the truth of one's purity or damnation.

The Sister Hospitaller, a woman of faith and medical expertise, conducted the examination with the solemnity it required. When she returned to report her findings to Inquisitor Greyfax, her usual composed demeanor was replaced by a pallor of shock, her steps faltering slightly as she approached.

Greyfax, noting the Sister's disquiet, demanded an immediate report. "Speak," she commanded, her voice brooking no delay. The Sister Hospitaller hesitated, her oath to the Adepta Sororitas warring with the unimaginable discovery she had made.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "Inquisitor, the woman... she is not entirely human. Her physiology, it's... transhuman. Her organs, they are unlike anything I've ever seen, crafted with a precision and complexity that rivals that of the Primarchs themselves. She has…"

Greyfax's reaction was a carefully controlled mask of stoicism, but the implications of the Sister's findings sent ripples of shock through her. The existence of a transhuman, especially one with organs that bore resemblance to those of the revered Primarchs, was an anomaly of unfathomable significance. It raised questions that pierced the very heart of Imperial doctrine and the nature of the Emperor's creations.

The Inquisitor stood, her mind racing with the possible origins and implications of such a being living unnoticed within the Imperium. "Are you certain of your findings, Sister?" Greyfax inquired, her voice steady despite the turmoil of thoughts.

"Yes, Inquisitor. I have never been more certain of anything. The craftsmanship... it's beyond the skill of even our most skilled Magos Biologis, I even had the local Biologis verify it. Whoever—or whatever—crafted her, it was with knowledge and skill that surpasses our understanding," the Sister Hospitaller replied, her own belief in her words evident in her solemn tone.

Greyfax considered the information, the weight of it pressing down upon her. This revelation could not be taken lightly, nor could it be widely known until she understood the full extent of its implications. The presence of such a being could be a sign of divine providence or a harbinger of doom, and it was her duty to discern which.

"Keep this information confidential. For now, it stays between us. Increase security and ensure the woman's safety; she is under the protection of the Inquisition until further notice," Greyfax ordered, her mind already formulating a plan. She needed to consult with the highest authorities, perhaps even with Guilliman himself, for such a discovery could shake the very foundations of the Imperium. Before she leaves she hands the Hospitaller a data-slate and says "Here is information on the child she gave to your monastery. Give this to the Cannoness, and make sure the child is safe!"

"Yes, Inquisitor!" The sister hurried out.

As Greyfax left to make her preparations, she couldn't help but wonder at the divine machinations that could have led to the existence of such a being. Was it a test of faith, a challenge, or perhaps, a gift? Only time, and her unwavering dedication to the truth, would reveal the answer.

Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax, her face set in an expression as hard as the ceramite of her power armor, strode through the echoing halls of the capitol building of Macragge. The people who filled its grand corridors seemed to sense the urgency and authority that radiated from her like a palpable force, parting before her like a sea. Few dared even to make eye contact, and those who did quickly averted their gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity they found in her piercing stare.

As she approached the door to the Primarch's office, guarded by two towering Ultramarines in their resplendent blue armor, her pace did not falter. These were the elite guards of the Ultramarine legion, yet even they seemed to stiffen as she drew near, as if bracing against a storm.

The guards crossed their halberds in front of the door, a clear sign that none were to pass. "The Primarch is in a meeting," one of them intoned, his voice as deep and unyielding as the rockcrete walls that surrounded them. "You cannot enter."

For a moment, Greyfax stood silent, her gaze locked with the guard's. Then, in a voice that brooked no argument, she spoke. "I am Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax. This concerns the Primarch directly. You will stand aside!"

Her declaration hung in the air, charged with the weight of her authority. The Ultramarines hesitated, exchanging a glance that spoke volumes. To bar the way of an Inquisitor was no small thing, and to defy one of Greyfax's stature less so. Yet their orders were clear, and their loyalty to their Primarch unwavering.

The standoff stretched for a heartbeat, then two. Finally, the guard who had spoken first nodded, ever so slightly. "One moment, Inquisitor," he said, before turning to speak into a vox unit at his wrist.

Seconds ticked by, each one heavy with tension. Then, the guard turned back to Greyfax, stepping aside as the doors to the Primarch's office swung open. "You may enter."

Inquisitor Greyfax nodded, her expression unchanging. Without a word, she stepped past the Ultramarine guards and into the Primarch's office, the doors closing silently behind her. Whatever awaited her within, she was ready. For the Inquisition, and for the Imperium, she would face any challenge, any foe.

As Inquisitor Greyfax entered the room, the air felt charged, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of her interruption. Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines and Lord Commander of the Imperium, along with Saint Celestine, the Living Saint, paused their discussion and turned towards her. Their expressions, one of divine serenity and the other of strategic calculation, shifted to quiet interest as Greyfax approached, her presence alone commanding the room's attention.

Greyfax, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and duty, allowed no hint of hesitation to mar her determined stride. The data-slate in her hand contained information of such gravity that it warranted this immediate and direct approach, bypassing all protocols and courtesies. As she walked toward Guilliman's desk, the weight of her mission pressed heavily upon her, yet her resolve remained unbreakable. She was well aware that the contents of the data-slate could alter the course of actions on a galactic scale, and the implications of her findings needed the immediate attention of the Imperium's highest authorities.

Upon reaching the desk, she paused, allowing herself a moment to assess Celestine and Guilliman, two of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. With a motion that was both respectful and assertive, she extended the data-slate towards Celestine first. The choice was deliberate; Celestine, as a beacon of faith and a symbol of the Emperor's divine will, would understand the spiritual and moral implications of the information. She has also proved herself with the Primarch's resurrection.

Celestine's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in shock as she scanned the contents, a ripple of disturbance crossing her otherwise unflappable demeanor. This reaction alone underscored the severity of the situation. Without a word, she passed the data-slate to Guilliman, her eyes meeting him in a silent exchange of gravity and concern.

Guilliman took the data-slate, his gaze locking onto the screen as he absorbed the information presented. His expression, always controlled and thoughtful, betrayed a flicker of concern as he read. The Primarch, a master of both warfare and governance, understood the ramifications of what was before him, the wheels of strategic planning already turning in his mind.

After a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, Guilliman carefully placed the data-slate on the desk, his blue eyes lifting to meet Greyfax. The room fell into a profound silence, the kind that precedes storms and upheavals. The weight of his gaze was palpable, a testament to the burden of command and the countless decisions he had faced in his long life.

Finally, Guilliman spoke, his voice steady and imbued with the authority of a leader who had guided the Imperium through its darkest hours. "This information changes much," he began, his tone measured, betraying neither panic nor distress. "We must consider our next steps carefully. The implications are far-reaching, and our response must be swift and decisive."

The Primarch then turned his attention back to Greyfax and Celestine, signaling the beginning of a discussion that would undoubtedly lead to actions with profound consequences for the Imperium. In that moment, the three figures, each a titan in their own right, represented the unyielding resolve of the Imperium to face whatever threats loomed on the horizon, united in their commitment to safeguard humanity's future.

"Where is she now?" Guilliman demanded. Greyfax was quick in her response "In her cell quarter, guarded by my agents. Her child is under the Cannoness' protection and is being kept discreet."