Saint Summer the Huntress

by Korykr

To most death is the end. To some death is a doorway. To Summer death is a beginning. Separated from her home and family, she must carve her way across a galaxy in flames in order to return to them. Nothing would get in her way. Not aliens, monsters, daemons, or evil gods. She would return to Remnant and leave her mark on the galaxy.

7. Chapter 7

RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth.

Warhammer 40K belongs to Games Workshop.

---

Chapter 7: Flight through the Ice

Tarn Katar's bootheel sank into the white snow of the mountain he and his regiment traversed. Each step was a chore, each breath was labored, but he carried on. He had to. If he fell behind, he would freeze to death. The cold would claim him within minutes. Such was the vicious bite of the temperature of this planet. The skitarii units that followed them had fallen not long ago. The parts of them that remained human froze solid and seized up.

The thought of that happening to him sent a shiver down his spine, a shiver that should be caused by the climate of the planet itself. But it didn't. Despite the contact of the snow on his uniform and exposed face, the cold had yet to touch him outside of the opening moments of their rushed landing in this frozen hell.

A sudden impact on his boot forced him to lunge forward, almost leaving him face first in the snow. The only reason he did not faceplant was due to a large meaty arm grabbing onto his shoulder. Looking to his right, he saw the scraggly bearded man who called himself Finlay holding him steady.

"Alright there, lad?" The cloaked man asked looking concerned.

Tarn felt slightly indignant at the act, he was Cadian, he should be better than this, but he shrugged it aside. Now was not the time for pride. They had a job to do, and duty always stood above pride.

"I'm fine." Tarn replied, getting back on his feet. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Finlay patted the Cadian on the back as they walked on.

Tarn noticed the man's attention was on the group in the center of their infantry march. Specifically on the giant in golden armor and the flutter of white and red he was carrying. When Tarn first saw him in the cave on Cadia, he thought the giant was just another Space Marine. When the truth of the golden being was revealed, he almost fell into prayer. A Custodian. One of the God-Emperor's personal guards. First it was the Holy Saint, and then one of the Emperor's protectors. What more of a sign do you need for the importance of their mission?

As he thought of the Holy Lady, his eyes darted up to see her leading the convoy from above. Out of all of them, only she appeared to know where they needed to go. Not even the freakishly large Archmagos claimed to have an idea. Their new Colonel had told them as much and who were they to doubt such news? The Celestinian Crusade he called it. The only question on Tarn's mind was where they were going?

Since their sullen departure from the Cadian Gate, the enemy has hounded them without any form of respite for close to six days. This surprised no one. If he were in charge of an armada, he'd do the same. According to what he was able to get from the high-ranking officers and those jackasses in the Kappic Eagles, the astropaths were blind, leaving them stuck in system. A prime opportunity for a numerically superior enemy to close in.

In the distance passed the hulking forms of the Imperial Knights that flanked their march, he could see falling debris from the war in the void. The broken pieces of metal burning up as they entered the atmosphere of the frozen world. If there were more, it would create the image of a meteor shower.

A frigid wind rushed across the mountainside they were climbing. Finlay's cameleoline cloak whipped behind him, almost cracking against Tarn. Not that it mattered. He didn't feel the cold. None of them did. All thanks to Summer.

As if his peer had read his mind, Finlay spoke. "She really is something. Most psykers ya meet always have something wrong with em. But she looks like an average lass."

"She's full of surprises." Tarn expressed his own view of the woman. "You'd never think she was so extraordinary. While she doesn't blend in when it comes to her clothes, her personality completely fools you. It actually put us on edge when we met her. That a Daemonhunter could be so friendly was bizarre. Not to mention all the things she can do."

Tarn had to stop himself from speaking further. Remembering the possible consequences of revealing the fact that the woman had technically made him into a psyker now. As happy as he was not to be an insane freak but still have some of the benefits, he did not want to cop a bolt round to his skull. Strang would not let Summer stop him in that instance, even if she followed through on the threat that she gave him when they left Cadia. Even if she did manage to impress him with her rally of their morale at the end, he still didn't like her. But she didn't seem to mind.

"I've experienced my fair share of psyker voodoo over the years. This doesn't feel the same." Finlay commented.

"How is it different?" Tarn was curious. Summer had often stated that her abilities were not magic. While that could be debated, it was clear that there was a difference between her and the average witch. Not to mention every positive opinion she got on her powers made him feel less nervous about the prospect of her granting him something similar.

"It doesn't make me want to empty my guts for one." Said Finlay in a light tone, then shifting to one of contemplation. Frowning as he recalled unpleasant memories. "It doesn't feel wrong. I know this is a bad example but whenever I've been around a psyker I've always noticed when they used their mystic nonsense. One thing that always happens is a sudden change in the temperature around them. That or you suddenly have the taste of copper in yer mouth. Or a nosebleed. Freaky stuff like that."

"I haven't felt anything like that around her." Tarn commented. "What do you feel?"

"Warm for one. And I'm not talking about her blocking the cold. It's a sense of rightness. Forgive me if I sound dramatic, but it's like she's saying she's on our side."

Tarn chuckled at that. "Sounds about right. Crazy girl."

"Makes me feel bad for her." The Tanithborn said with a grim frown.

"Why is that?"

Finlay leaned in slightly. "Haven't ya noticed? The Sisters and the golden boys don't like her. I heard some on both side mumbling about putting her down when this was over."

Tarn glanced around, spotting the various uniforms of the Tempestus Scions that had been brought along with that inquisitor. Then he looked ahead, to the front of the column, to the black armored forms of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. He frowned, the Tempestus Scions he understood. Damn bootlickers only know how to follow orders. They'd kill each other on command if they were told to do it. But the Sisters case was slightly disappointing. Tarn remembered clearly how hard the Living Saint argued for Summer's sake. Overhearing that Strang would have died if he had pulled the trigger on the huntress. He doubted the Sisters would get better treatment if they tried anything. Still, had the Saint told them nothing?

"Don't worry about it." Tarn whispered, glancing up at the winged warrior leading the march.

"You sure?"

Tarn flashed Finlay a sly grin and gestured to his lasgun. "If the golden boys want her, they'll have to go through us first."

"Is this cause she defended you lot from the commissar?"

"You'd be surprised how much that means to any regiment. Especially when it's with a commissar like Strang. Most commanders wouldn't raise so much as a finger if Strang pulled out his pistol. You were there. You watched as she pinned him to the deck. You think we'll just stand by and let some poster boys from the Schola take her out when she stood up for us?"

"Real loyalty that is. I respect that."

"We're Cadian." He said for the fifth time that day. He needed to. It was all any of them had left. But he still held onto his grin. "We look after our own."

Finlay smiled through his beard. Like the sight of Tarn's pride reminded him of something.

"Hey!" Called out a voice ahead of them.

It was Alexa. "Hurry up! She can't shield us if were spread too far apart. Pick up the pace or freeze to death."

Both men blinked as they noticed that they had fallen to the rear of the regiment. As the chill of the planet brushed against their backs, they jogged back into the tightly huddled formation of Cadian Shock Troopers. Both chuckling while Alexa shook her head.

---

Standing beside Osiris, Nicolas Schnee glanced back at his friend. He and Finlay had become good companions. The man spoke honestly and plainly. That was something he had come to miss since he started up the SDC. While Nicholas did enjoy the benefits of high society, all the politeness, doublespeak and veiled intentions got tiresome after his wife passed. Those fancy balls were for her and Willow anyway. Watching Finlay get along with the Cadians only confirmed that he was a good man.

The thunder of the giant mechs shook the ground Nicholas stood on. He almost lost his balance as the snow shifted. Those things were huge. If he gauged the size right, three of them would be enough to destroy a Leviathan Grimm with just their main armaments. The military back in Atlas would empty their bowels at the sight of these things.

Pain shot through his chest as he began to cough. The hard movements of his lungs attempt to correct themselves made the stabs of agony worse. As it built, he almost tumbled again, but he felt his aura flare and the pain faded. When he registered this, he noticed the tightness of his lungs remained.

Looking down at his hands, he saw the soft golden glow and he knew who was aiding him.

"Are you well, Nicholas?" Osiris asked in a polite manner as he held Summer in his arms. She looked to be asleep but that was not the case.

Nicholas turned to the transhuman warrior and gave him a smile. He liked Osiris. The Custodian was polite but not to the point of hiding his true meaning. That was something the Schnee patriarch respected a great deal. As most people hid behind politeness as if it justified the venomous words they uttered sometimes.

"Just fine, my boy. Just sore lungs."

"You should have gone to the Biologos on board the Ark Mechanicus. The infection within you will only worsen with time and it is impossible to say when we shall find a medicae facility with sufficient equipment to heal you."

Nicholas recalled the offer that had been made before, but he decided against it. Not out of disbelief, but caution and reason. These cyborg priests made him sweat with their casual disregard for basic human life, as seen with their augmented servants. Servitors they called them. Lobotomized human beings retrofitted and augmented with mechanical equipment for specific and menial tasks that were labor intensive or downright monotonous.

He hated the things. Not because they existed, but what their existence implied about humans in this galaxy he had been dragged into. In his long years he never would have imagined anyone could be so cruel as to condemn anyone, regardless of their sins, to such a horrid fate. Execution would be a mercy by comparison. Summer got such a fright from seeing one nearly crash into her that she tore off the mechanical appendage that held the incense burner it carried. She certainly agreed with Nicholas' views on that.

His feelings aside, there was another reason he refused to be treated despite his desire to prolong his life. "I did but they said I'd be bedridden after the procedure. With the ship being destroyed now, I think I made the right call. Even if they did give me new lungs, I'd rather be able to do something while we're hunted by these fiends."

Nicholas visibly frowned at the offers they made to him. "I also didn't appreciate them constantly offering to amputate my limbs so they could 'bless' me with cybernetics."

"Such is their way." Osiris said in his usual tone of neutrality. "It is impossible to change them, all we can do is endure their assertions. I admit that you indeed made the correct decision. Had you undergone the procedure during our travel here you would either be dead now or a liability to our current mission. Still, you only have a limited time to provide proper genetic material to clone a new organ."

"We do what we must to get the job done, my boy."

He noticed the Custodian's curious turn of his helmet. "You are aware that I am far older than you."

It was not a question; it was a statement of fact. Nicholas was shocked to learn that the golden warrior was over five centuries in age. That made him eight times older that Nicholas, who was in his mid-sixties. But despite this, Nicholas had taken to calling him, boy.

With a sly grin he answered the statement with another statement. "You can't argue that you don't look at all the age you claim you are. To me you look like a young man, and I have the habit of calling men I like and perceive as younger than me by that name."

Osiris was silent for a moment, likely digesting the information and forming an appropriate response. That was fine by Nicholas. People think talking quickly in a discussion is a sign of intelligence, but in truth it is a sign of ego. The true intellectuals speak in a manner that displayed a desire for others to understand the meaning behind their words. Not confuse them with their complexity. It was better to slow down a discussion for better communication, not turn it into a contest to see who had the fastest vocal cords. He had many business partners and friends in both Atlas and Mantle to prove it.

"If you want me to stop using it, I won't object." Nicholas offered.

"It is alright." Osiris answered as his golden armored boots created small craters in the snow which the soldiers behind him used for easier movement. Forming a small column behind him personally. "It is of no bother to me. I merely found it to be factually incorrect. Now that I am aware of the context, I no longer have any interest in correcting you."

"Glad to know you can understand this old dog's tricks, lad."

"Old dog's tricks." Osiris repeated. "A phrase you use to describe your habits as long engrained and difficult to ignore. I believe it derives from the ancient idiom, 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks.'"

Nicholas huffed at the analytical response. "You are quite scholarly. I'd never be able to tell without talking to you."

"I was made to be a scholar and warrior both. The Master of Mankind wished such in those who would accompany him. It is also my duty to learn as much as I can so I may protect my lord to the best of my ability."

The Schnee patriarch glanced around at the soldiers who walked around them. He knew they were listening in but none of them spoke up. They were still awestruck by the golden warrior. Summer had explained the importance of this Emperor to him. Osiris was one of his bodyguards and that had given him a high level of religious significance to these people. So much so that the sight of him had left most of them too intimidated to dare to speak to him. Some approached him to ask questions and Osiris answered as he saw fit.

Nicholas was dragged from his musings as a horrid shriek echoed across the frozen landscape. "That's good, because I think we'll be needing some of that knowledge very soon."

"Stop!" Roared the amplified voice of the Archmagos at the head of the column. From atop the raised platform of a large, armored, mobile cargo container of some kind with six enormous tires, he raised his cog toothed axe high with two of his mechanical arms.

At his behest, everyone stopped. They all knew why. Celestine and her cohorts dropped out of the sky and sank into the snow. The mechs that usually emanated such noise just by standing still became almost silent, only letting out a low hum for their active power generators.

Overhead large, winged shapes soared from above. Bellows that sounded like shrieking metal echoed down the mountains as they passed by. No one dared to move. Nicholas would have opted for them to fall into the snow for camouflage but that would not have made much difference with three giant robots standing around. Osiris theorized that the Heldrakes were outfitted with thermal scanners and movement sensors to suit the environment. This meant that when they were close, the entire force had to either hide in cover before the beasts reached them or remain completely still and hope the snow built up enough to counteract their body temperatures. Nicholas wondered if that would even work for all the warriors in powered armor. Having a miniature powerplant strapped to your back creates a lot of heat. Or at least that is how he perceives it.

Still, Nicholas had the sneaking suspicion that his golden friend was only half correct. Having the entire search party only see in a certain light was ineffective. When mining Nicholas always had a varied team lay the groundwork. Different viewpoints allowed the whole to cover all the bases where a single view would overlook something vital which would lead to problems down the line.

This had been the routine for the entirety of the day. They had only been down for a few hours, but the mechanical monsters circled the mountains like carrion flies. Slowing their march just by being close by. That was the price of wanting to avoid a fight they would not be able to win. They were outnumbered and without support. Making a stand would be suicide and Nicholas was never a big fan of that.

Everyone stood in silence as the wind caressed their still forms, trying to set the chill of the world in their bones. None of them flinched. They didn't feel anything, and Nicholas was glad. Staying still in the cold was numbing. You need to keep moving to up your body heat to try and combat the cold. With a side long glance, he noted the still form of Summer in complete concentration. If not for the furrow of her brow and the stiff expression on her face, you'd assume she was sleeping.

Moments after landing, the cold threatened to send the unprepared Nicholas into shock. He was still dressed in a business suit and that was not made for such a place. Summer immediately started using her new semblance to counteract the cold assault on his body. When she noticed that the others were in a similar predicament, she fell into a meditative trance and most of the soldiers received the same treatment. The downside of this boon was that the huntress was rendered completely immobile while she focused her aura. Nicholas expected her to have a good amount as was common for both of their Houses, but he was shocked that she had this much of it. He'd seen people with strong auras in his days. Plenty that outmatched him by a good margin, but this was on another level.

Another downside was that she could only support the soldiers who stayed within a certain range of her. He could only imagine how hard she has to concentrate to spread her attention across so many people. Everyone was grateful for it, even the ones who disapproved of her presence. Like the woman with the cape and the crossbow gun. Greyfax was her name, if he recalled correctly. She accepted this with no small amount of annoyance.

The fact that Summer had more than one semblance was such a surprise. While rare, it was not unheard of for people to have two or even three semblances. The instances of people who had such traits were estimated to be one in five hundred thousand according to Professor Polendina, who had a fascination with aura and semblances. Even when Nicholas learned this from the professor, in a search for talented individuals for the future of the SDC, he confessed that it was an optimistic estimate.

Summer was a unicorn in this regard as she told him that she had at least six at this point. No one has ever had that many semblances in recorded history and she hinted that she might have more. The thought of such a gifted individual coming from his rival House made him want to laugh as it only validated the respect he held for them. His father always said that those of House Dorn were born for one thing, to fight, it was in their blood. Summer could say she wasn't a Dorn, but Nicholas saw all the traits within her. It relieved him to know that it was her he was stuck with in this galaxy.

A maddening screech echoed from above. Three of the Heldrakes were spotted diving in their direction. They had been spotted.

"Incoming!" Yelled out Colonel-Commissar Strang.

At his word the entire army sprang to life. The Cadians all primed their weapons and began a jog in the snow. Cawl's conveyer started blazing a trail forward and everyone followed his lead, including the Black Templar's Rhino transports. Soldiers filed into the trenches in the snow that their treads made, and the entire column accelerated. Nicholas stayed in the middle of the formation with Osiris and Summer. The Custodian made no effort to alter his position within the formation and it was easy to see why. The snow would not slow him down and Summer wanted to ensure as many people survived this ordeal as possible. If they had to fight against an army of Space Marines, then they would need to be unrestricted by the climate.

The large mechs did not follow suit, instead they focused on the approaching enemy fliers. Aiming their torso's upward, they launched a spread of missiles at the draconic beasts. Nicholas heard the explosions and shrill cries from one of the monsters as it crashed into the snowy hills around them.

Another explosion sounded off, followed by a second crash, but then the grinding of metal on metal came soon after. Glancing back, he saw one of the mechs wrestling with the metal dragon trying to force it down.

Another mech used its enormous snub cannon to pelt the creature with high explosive shells. The rest joined in with a variety of weapons, including a massively oversized chainsaw, which bit into the Heldrakes back.

The combined assault of weaponry made his ears ring. It was worst thing he'd ever heard.

When the noise stopped, the mechs began to march alongside the column, their intent being an escort. He'd heard the Cadians refer to them as Knights. While he hadn't had the pleasure of speaking with one of the pilots, he could tell they took their roles very seriously. Their giant torsos swiveled in all directions as they stride along the sides of the formation.

For the next few minutes, they marched at a steady pace. Hoping to gain enough distance for the snow to cover their tracks. The enemy knew the beasts were destroyed and where it happened. Still, they were too slow by his guess. If the formation were smaller, then they could move faster or if they had proper transportation. Sadly, there weren't enough of the latter. The Space Marine Rhinos were being used as armored support alongside the Knights and Cawl's conveyer was not large enough to carry a meaningful load of people.

When the march began to slow its pace again, a soft bang could be heard from the hills behind them, followed by a sharp whistle that grew louder until the snow erupted with an explosion.

"Traitors!" Cried one of the Black Templars at the rear of the column.

On the hills surrounding them black forms gathered at their peaks. A mass of staccato booms echoed like a discordant drumbeat before a volley of bolter shells rained down on them.

The shells that landed within the crowd took lives by the half-dozens. Being packed together like this with no cover was working against them when the enemy had the high ground.

Nicholas heard Summer groan in discomfort as her body became stiff in Osiris' arms. He almost rushed over to her as he felt the presence in his mind waver slightly before reasserting itself. She had told him that when she did this, she connected with those she was helping. This connection allowed for everything the recipient felt to be transmitted back to Summer. That included pain. He dared not imagine what she must be feeling right now.

"They're coming from the sides!" Greyfax's voice rose above the noise.

She was correct, before the Knights or anyone else could return fire on the Space Marines suppressing them, the roar of bike engines could be heard. Boxy and spiked motor bikes came charging out of the snow and fired at them with their front mounted bolters. The Rhino transports took the brunt of it, but the slow transports were unable to return fire before the bikes circled around them and took aim at the Black Templars. After the first pass, the laughing maniacs on the bikes continued their strafing action. Circling their force like vultures.

"It's an ambush!" Colonel Strang declared as he began barking out orders to the 21st Regiment to converge on Cawl at the front. The Archmagos and his cargo had to be protected. Nicholas was unsure why, but he followed along as the Cadians and Tempestus Scions broke into a run.

"They are trying to entrap us to stall for time!" Celestine's majestic voice washed over the army. "We must not falter. To me my Sisters! We take the fight to the Havocs on the ridge!"

A bright, golden light shone from Celestine as she flared her wings and took to the sky. Followed by squads of black-armored women all wearing jetpacks of their own. They soared above the crowd and closed the distance on the Marines in the hills.

As the human soldiers gathered around the Archmagos and his cyborg cohort, the Rhino transports were repositioned around them to act as makeshift cover. The Templars and Sisters of Battle fired back at the bikers trying to gun them down.

Nicholas saw Finlay and the guardsman he was joking with shove their way through the soldiers.

"Ya good, Nic?" He asked his usual humor.

Nicholas did not return the grin but gave an answer. "My ears are ringing, but I'm alright."

"I told ya to take a rifle. That oversized sword won't do you any good here. Neither will that peashooter."

Finlay was referring to the Astartes Power Sword tied to Nicholas' back with a rope. While he did take a laspistol as a sidearm, it lacked the range he would need to participate in this fight. It was an error on his part. He was too used to fighting Grimm, which required close combat as a specialty because of the monsters' propensity for surprise attacks and ambushes in melee.

"Can I count on you to watch my back then? I'll get you a drink when this is over." He jokingly offered as a form of conceit.

Finlay turned his attention to the fight as the Cadians and Scions all looked for an angle to fire back at their enemies. "Sure, if you use yer freaky powers to watch my back in return."

---

Osiris stood in the crowd, scanning the battlefield with a critical eye. As he peered across the hillside a collection of small fiery dots entered his vison in the distance. They appeared to be hopping from hill to at a rapid pace. It did not take him long to realize what they were. He had seen this tactic before, during the worst years of his life. The Traitor Legions ambushed groups of his brothers or allied Astartes sent out of the Imperial Palace using this. Surprise, suppress, distract and then deliver a hammer blow. However, this tactic only worked when the final phase went unnoticed. Celestine believed they were stalling for the bulk of Abaddon's forces to arrive and perhaps she was correct, but that would not stop them from trying to spare their master the effort.

A thousand scenarios played out in his transhuman mind within the span of a millisecond. Wondering how best to counter this assault. He could order the humans to prepare for the attack himself, but the odds of them responding correctly to his words were unknown. Despite the prestige they ascribed to him, he was still a stranger among them. While some would obey, others would be obstinate and carry on with their own orders.

He could not chance that if they were to survive the assault. Turning to Shock Trooper Tarn Katar, he spoke his mind. "Guardsman."

The man in question froze up under Osiris' gaze and many of the other Cadians around him turned to regard the Custodian. Osiris ignored them. They could spread the news of their own volition. "We have an incoming force of Astartes equipped with Jump Packs. They plan to land within our midst while our focus is divided, find the Colonel and make the men aware of the threat."

The man responded the second Osiris finished his instruction. "Yes, my Lord!"

The Guardsman ran off into the crowd along with several of the others spreading out in different directions. In the confusion, he spotted a bolt shell flying in his direction. He deduced the spot it would land and did not move but he didn't want it to harm anyone. "Nicholas."

"Yes?" Responded the Schnee.

"Take five steps backwards."

Nicholas wanted to question, but quickly decided to follow the order instead.

"And you." Osiris addressed Finlay. "Three steps to your left."

Finlay acted with a bit more urgency than Nicholas and the reason why was clear. The bolt round he saw crashed into the ground between them and exploded.

Both men stared at the crater for a moment before looking to Osiris and then each other. The Custodian noted hint of amusement on their faces. Why they found this amusing was another strange aspect of humanity that he could not quite understand. The only explanation he could devise was that it was a sort of coping mechanism to help process the fact that they could have perished.

Looking up, he spotted the pack of Astartes landing on a nearby hilltop and contemplated leaving his charge with the Archmagos in order to retrieve his Guardian Spear from the Templars.

---

Haarken Worldclaimer soared across the skies of Cladius. His spikes mounted on his Jump Pack tore at the opposing currents of air as he descended on the next hill. As his black ceramite boots crashed into the snow. He took a moment to examine the battle sight while his fellow Raptors caught up with him. It was a point of pride for the Raptor Lord. He had to be the first to arrive, how else could he announce the impending victory of the Warmaster?

The Havocs were doing their job with admirable determination, despite the interference from the Corpse Bride and her disgusting maiden warriors. He watched as her burning blade cleaved an Astartes in two and another three fell to the bolt pistols of the unempowered ones.

He felt his Lightning Claw twitch at the sight of them. Prey, they were prey. To be hunted down and slaughtered. But he calmed himself. They were not the reason why he was here.

Casting his gaze further down, he saw those boring dregs on their bikes. He watched them circle the cluster of mortals, Astartes, and Mechanicus Skitarii. The thought of them laughing like idiots would not surprise him. Fools, to think they were deluded enough to believe such a limited mode of transportation counted as freedom. Cowards were too afraid to commit to his path and truly grasp the exhilarating feeling of flight. The Warp Talons certainly did, but they were too far gone to grasp anything else, much less be useful for anything other than butchery.

His job was more sophisticated, albeit in a crude way. He instilled fear within the hearts of the Warmaster's enemies. And he could do it better than anyone in the Black Legion. It was his trademark, why he was singled out by the Warmaster himself and crowned as his herald.

Fear was not something that should be administered quickly, lest it fade just as rapidly. That was best used for repeated shocks for added effect with each use. His time studying the Grimoire Nostramo had taught him that fear has a strange effect on the mind. It is not just a simple emotion. It builds and leaves traces of itself in the psyche after the one who brought it has left. Then if the source of that fear returns most men will experience greater fear than the first. Granted he will admit that there are those, both individual people and cultures, which are adept at dealing with this effect. Hence why he also adept at shock and awe. They still feel fear even if it doesn't last. But on a massive scale, the slow approach works best. The key was never allowing the victim a chance to properly confront such fears. That was trick, running from fear gives it more power, which was optimal but simply denying them the chance was enough. Hence why his announcements always followed a deceive and crippling strike against the foe. Evidence that the fear was rightly justified.

He could picture it now, he and his Raptors descending upon the False Saint. Tearing her and companions to shreds while broadcasting their screams to the mortals down below. Hearing their beloved beacon of hope in such agony would shake them. The Astartes would be too stubborn, as Sons of Dorn usually were, but the rest would be devastated. Then he would speak some carefully chosen words to announce their impending doom and descend to have his pick.

Harrken almost sighed in disappointment. It was regrettable but that wasn't the reason he was here. In fact, he doubted this sorry rabble needed his particular talents to be destroyed. They were likely freezing to death already. Fear was utterly unnecessary to conquer this lot.

Alas, he had his orders. 'Kill as many as you want but ensure the Archmagos' demise and bring me the white cloaked woman. I wish to end her myself.'

He did not know why his lord held such a grudge against this mortal woman, but he could guess. Remembering the reaction his master's demonic blade had at the mention of the mortal. He'd seen that thing react unfavorably to his master's commands, but this was the first time Haarken had seen it revolt so violently. Nearly injuring the Warmaster as he tried to wield it.

As the last of his pack gathered behind him, he ignited his jets and readjusted his grip on the Helspear. He would kill the techpriest first. Then he could weed out the rabble to claim his master's prize. A growl of excitement echoed from his Laud Hailer in anticipation of the coming slaughter. The Gods would be pleased with his tally this day.

Waiting for the four Imperial Knights to dedicate their focus to the bikes, he braced himself for the jump. The choir of engine ignition behind him signaled that his brothers thought the same.

With a mighty leap, his thrusters roared to life, and he took to the air. Once he was directly above the mass of mortals, he let out feral howl through his Laud Hailer, which was echoed through the vox grills of his brothers as they followed close behind. Their combined voices forming a cacophony of mad screams.

As he descended, he singled out his first target. The Archmagos stood atop a large conveyer vehicle. His large bulky form and red robes made him stand out like an oversized dot from a targeting laser.

He shifted his position in mid-air. The Helspear raised high, ready to strike. He just needed to get closer. Once he killed the Techpriest, his landing would scatter the mortals and force the Templars circling them to run them down to reach Haarken and his brethren. Such glorious chaos.

A lasbeam crashed against the multitude of skulls adorning his chest plate. The skull it struck was left a searing ruin. Haarken lost his focus on the Techpriest for a moment to look at the crowd. He expected some to stand their ground, some humans were surprisingly stubborn, but he did not expect all of them to aim their weapons directly up at him.

His visor display exploded with light as a mass of red beams rose up to meet him. They pelted his armor like raindrops made of fire. The gold of his armor became charred and blackened within moments, but he was unbothered. The blessings of the Powers had empowered his armor to withstand nothing short of heavy tank shells. Curtesy of the Forge Masters.

Haarken ignored this annoyance, he knew his kin were falling. Some fell limp as they were cooked within their armor by the mass of heavier beams. It did not matter. If they fell, then they were too weak to serve the Legion. His mission was all that mattered to the Warmaster, the rest was simply indulgence.

When his gaze returned to the Archmagos, his twin hearts almost froze. The mechanical monstrosity was staring straight at him. That deathly pale face stared at him with something akin to wry amusement as he raised a weapon mounted to the right of his large torso and aimed it at Worldclaimer's descending form. The steaming tip of it tracking his fall.

While he did not recognize the exact weapon being levied against him, Haarken had been on enough battlefields where the Mechanicus were present to see the similarities between this weapon and those mounted on their assault walkers.

There were no holes in his devotion to the Dark Gods, but he knew that they would never make him invincible. With a loud snarl, he banked himself hard to the left, almost falling into a tailspin. His trajectory had altered to take him just outside the edge of the circle of bodies.

A bright light cut through the sky, turning his kin to ash. As he suspected, that Mechanicus fool had mounted a heavy weapon to his chassis.

As he closed in on his new landing zone, realizing that their initial plan had failed, other Raptors followed after their lord. With a twist, Haarken landed, sliding across the snowy ground to be greeted with the guns of the Black Templars and Sisters of Battle.

A flood of different emotions rushed through his brain in the opening seconds of the following skirmish. Confusion at the coordination of the mortals who should be struggling to move. Anger at the failure of Havocs and bikers for not sufficiently distracting them. And finally, the slight twinge of fear over what the Warmaster would do should he fail.

The upward rain of lasbeams were continuing their fire. Leaving him unable to jump over the wall of armored foes arrayed against him. Fortunately, he had brought enough warriors with him to grind the enemy into submission. Even now, more Havocs arrived on the scene and bikers emerged from the snowy white. The Archmagos will die, and Lord Abaddon will have his prize. All he needed to do was press on until they broke.

As more of his fellow Raptors landed around him, hooked chainswords snarling, he smiled under his vox grill. Marine against marine. Just like the old days when all this began.

The Templars and Sororitas that were closest to Haarken's pack opened fire. Worldclaimer's reply was a mad laugh as he hurled his spear into the mass of black ceramite, impaling two Astartes. Haarken wasted no time igniting his thrusters and jumping into the ensuing melee. It was not a swift victory, but at least he could have his fun.

---

"Ave Imperator!" Bellowed Amalrich as he led the counter charge against the Chaos Raptors.

The heretics closed the gap quickly after they landed. Good. Spare those loyal to the throne the trouble of chasing them down, it was the least they could do for their sins. The first of his opponents came charging at him with a chainsword with a spiked hook mounted at its peak. Soaring in with a slight elevation, the traitor raised his weapon high for a downward chop. The Marshal leapt back, letting the crooked hook bury itself in the snow. Rushing forward, he brought his blade up with a wide sweep, cutting across the traitor's chest plate, forcing the fool back.

The Raptor lost his balance and fell backward, Amalrich pressed the advantage and buried the length of his blade in the fiend's blackened hearts. The Raptor's body twitched as he tried to continue the fight before falling limp.

Retrieving his weapon, he snarled beneath his rebreather as a shot crashed against the small shield mounted on his left pauldron. Leaving a scar across his own badge of honor. The defacing of his personal heraldry set his veins on fire. More bolt rounds flew by, and he found his attacker. This one held his chainsword with a blade mounted at the top rather than a hook. When the traitor took to the air to bear down on the Marshal, Amalrich's reply was as disrespectful as the shot to his heraldry. Raising his bolt pistol, he fired a single round into the one of the turbines of the traitor's Jump Pack.

The Raptor was on the ground faster than he could blink. The explosion had knocked his helmet off, revealing his mutated visage. Jagged teeth dug into the flesh of his lip and small tusks appeared from the sides of his maw. Sickly pale skin contrasted with the pure white snow. A shadow fell on him and when he looked up, he was met with the falling sole of a ceramite boot flattening his skull.

"Praise be." Muttered the Marshal in reverent prayer.

The besmirchment of his honor avenged, Amalrich pressed on. He and those of his brothers who much preferred close quarters fighting rushed out from the cover of their Rhinos to meet the Raptors' assault. While the fate of the mortals was of little consequence to him, it was still a poor tactical decision to leaving their least durable forces exposed to foes who attacked in close quarters. There were too many Chaos Marines for his Templars to fend off alone without exposing the Archmagos and the Emperor's Anointed.

The Sisters were fervent, but they were best used as fire support for his Templars. If they were to survive this, they needed to work to their strengths and his warriors were better suited to fighting up close with Astartes than they.

Thrusting his blade forward, he forced it through the girdle of another traitor, a curse of hatred died amidst the bloody gurgles as the Marshal severed his neck.

As the body fell, Amalrich spotted Kadan in the carnage. His twin scimitars quickly dismantling the Raptor that came at him.

When the Initiate was finished, Amalrich heard him singing a hymnal. "Purging with my kin~."

"Kadan!" The Marshal barked across the vox.

The swordsman did not flinch, but his movements became stiffer as the parried a strike form a chainsword. "My Liege!"

Amalrich closed the distance between them and fired on the Initiate's opponent. A shot bashed the Raptor's helmet and gave Kadan an opening to dig his blades in the fool's shoulders.

"Where is Lothar?" Amalrich asked as a Chaos Marine landed between them.

"He left to find the Custodian. The rest of the squad went with him." Answered Kadan as he caught a chainsword by crossing his blades together.

Amalrich approved of this choice of action. If any of the traitors got past them then having a last line of defense was crucial. With Summer immobilized by her efforts to support the mortals, it was best to have some warriors present who could deal with Astartes. The Archmagos could protect himself, but their Emperor's Anointed was helpless as a newborn right now. Not to mention, she would need defenders who were not afraid of spilling Imperial blood. He did not trust the Inquisitor.

On the bridge of the Ark Mechanicus, he overheard Cawl accusing the woman of being infected with Xenos technology. Greyfax vehemently protested that she was not corrupted, that she was loyal, but loyal was a term the inquisition liked to throw around to justify their own agenda more often than the Marshal was comfortable with. She already accused the Holy Saint of being a heretic and was suspicious of the Anointed. While the situation was dire, he'd rather have some of his own guard Summer while the inquisitor had a full regiment of guardsman at her disposal. Also, the Custodian would need his spear if he were to do the defending himself.

Inquisitors. For all the good they did, they also make everything else so much more complicated than they need to be.

A trio of enemy Astartes bore down on the Marshal. One bore a jagged Power Sword. The other two had double sided chainswords. Amalrich half expected Kadan to join him for this fight, but he heard the boy march off to face a different foe. Marius let him be. A Templar is free to choose his own battles when not commanded to and Amalrich did not utter a word.

As the three of them attacked, he was forced to backpedal to keep them from surrounding him. The three blades swiped at him in a constant rhythm, showing that these were true pack hunters. While he still regarded them as cowards, filth of the highest order, the display of coordination was slightly impressive and that thought alone made it necessary for him to conduct a penance on himself once this was over. Parry, counterthrust, swipe, miss. These mongrels were quick. Whenever he tried to dedicate himself to an attack, one or two of them would intercept him. While he was able to fend them off, he was not blind to the fact that all it would take was one more and he would be overwhelmed.

He felt a presence within his mind once again. The same presence he felt during the battle of the Elysion Fields. It was the Anointed. While she appeared comatose, she was not blind. Far from it. In exchange for personal glory in combat, she could perceive the entire battle with her mind's eye. Under normal circumstances the Marshal would declare that heresy, but with some questioning form Lothar, the woman confessed that she was never able to perform such a feat before she had been the Anointed. Meaning that despite this appearing to be a form of witchery, it was in fact a blessing from their Emperor. That made it a boon. She must have seen his current situation and sought to offer aid.

After he acknowledged her presence, he felt his body become refreshed, like taking battle stimulants but without the rush or aftereffects. His mind was sharper, and his movements were faster. Not by much, but enough for him to sever one of the traitor's sword arms. As the wretch stumbled back, the other two closed in, Marius shot one in the helmet with his pistol, stunning the Raptor.

The last one charged and Amalrich went all in. The Marshall twisted his armored form so the teeth of the chainblade bit into his right pauldron, causing superficial damage and leaving his sword arm unobstructed. With an upward slash he tore into through the chest plate, throat and skull of his foe.

He was on the stunned Raptor next, and with an overhead slash he opened the Astartes' torso. Next was the one he had dismembered, but that one had been gunned down by bolter fire.

With his foes defeated he scanned the area for a new target. Again, he saw Kadan fighting a Raptor, but this one was different. Viler than the others. He wore no helmet but covered his face with some kind of red and gold mask, and his mouth with some form of vox grill. His chest plate as well as this left pauldron was covered with human skulls. His Jump Pack was adorned with rows of spikes that had a number of Astartes helmets impaled on them. The right hand of the Raptor was a Lightning Claw, which swiped at Kadan with feral agility. In his left hand was a simple spear that looked to be radiating heat despite having no form of power generator on it. A daemonic weapon. The Raptor used it to stab at Kadan. The Initiate parried and redirected each attempt at impalement.

This was no ordinary Raptor. Amalrich had heard rumors of a particularly fearsome warrior among the Despoiler's entourage. A herald that would proclaim the doom of worlds. The name escaped him, but the description matched the stories.

Kadan was putting up valiant resistance, but the Raptor held the advantage. He must have caught Kadan by surprise to put him on the backfoot so quickly. Closing in with the Lightning Claws and striking with that ominous spear when Kadan tried to retaliate.

Amalrich broke into a run, he felt the presence lessen within his mind. With his foes slain, the Anointed was focusing her attention elsewhere. He did not mind; the morale boost she gave to the mortals alone was an advantage they could not afford to lose.

More Raptors joined the fray. Landing on the snow with gleeful intent or frothing rage. Some landed on their backs or faces. Dead. The guardsmen were doing their part in weeding out the weak of the foe.

Amalrich said nothing as he engaged the new arrivals. He needed to have faith in Kadan's skills.

---

Haarken Worldclaimer laughed as he slashed at the pup that stood before him. This one had given him a proper show. He had enjoyed chipping away at the confidence he had displayed in the opening moments of their duel.

Perfect timing as well, the second pack has finally arrived and now they can dig into the mortals behind the battle maidens. With the Corpse Bride busy with the Havocs and his Raptors closing in on the circle of Rhinos, the Knights won't dare fire at them for fear of hitting their allies. All he had to do was create a break. The Templars were holding up better than he expected but as a precaution Haarken ordered that the second pack be twice the size of the original.

Now they didn't need to kill all the Astartes to get to the mortals. All he had to do was deal with this pup.

The Templar let out a furious warcry as he charged at Worldclaimer. Thrusting the Helspear forward, he broke the Templar's charge and with his Lightning Claws, he caught the blades of the warrior.

With a short laugh, he crushed the blades in his grip and moved in to backhand the Templar. Knocking him down.

Now he could finish him. Reversing his grip on the Helspear, he raised it up to bring it down on the Templar's helm. Before he could end the welp, he felt a fire ignite behind his eyes. The pain was so intense that for a moment he thought his brain was burning. It continued to build until he was forced to back up. A bolt round rang against his armor. Snarling, he followed the path of the bolt to find a woman wearing a cape and hat with a stylized I symbol on it. She was pointing a combi-bolter at him, it was of a type he had never seen before. The top of it looked like a primitive crossbow.

Forgetting about the defeated Templar, Haarken readjusted his aim to target the woman who simply stared at him with a defiant expression. Her gaze was focused squarely on him. A psyker.

The Templar at his feet said something and caused a momentary lapse in Worldclaimer's concentration. The pain exploded in his skull, but he gained enough awareness to notice an unknown attacker approaching him.

Lunging to the right, he just barely avoided a slash from a jet-black blade.

Standing tall, Haarken regarded his newest victim. It was a Templar like the others, but his armor was different. It was simpler in form. There were leather straps across the sides of his kneepads. A large dark brown leather belt across his waist. A lantern clipped to the belt and an old Crusader helm. Atop that helm was a golden laurel wreath. The only weapon he carried was a long Power Sword with a black blade and some words in High Gothic inscribed on it.

Haarken was unsure if it was the pain in his head, but something felt different about this one. His posture spoke of absolute calm and focus despite being in the center of a battle.

The two Astartes starred each other down, their blood red eye lenses staying parallel to their opposite number. Haarken wanted to charge, but he knew his opponent was expecting that. His blade was held up straight in a perfect guard. Prepared to intercept any assault Haarken threw his way.

Worldclaimer was no swordsman, but he knew how they fought and what to watch out for. He had spent months dealing with those braggards who joined the Legion from the Emperor's Children. Cocky filth as they were, none could deny that they had supreme skill when it came to their bladework.

As if his thoughts were being read, the Templar dropped his guard and gave a challenging salute.

Haarken had no patience for such useless traditions. He charged at the Templar with his claws outstretched to tear open his breast.

The Templar reacted quickly but with no sense of urgency and an annoying calm, he stepped to the side and batted the claws with the blade before spinning to deliver a horizontal slash to Haarken's torso. Only the explosive boost from his thrusters allowed him to outpace the swiftness of that blade.

The thrusters launched him forward, nearly throwing him off balance. Swiftly turning he hissed as the brainfire continued to burn. He was not prepared for this form of confrontation. He came here expecting to find an already crippled enemy. Yet here they all are fighting with the tenacity of Orks.

"Don't run, traitor. We've only just begun." Said the Templar, pointing his blade at Haarken.

Haarken howled with laughter, amplified by his Laud Hailer all across the battle zone. Noticing that the other Templars were giving this warrior a wide berth, he decided to keep him talking. "Run? Why would I run? It is you who has been running since the Warmaster took Cadia from you."

"Had I met him then you would not be so boastful, scum. Know this, we do not turn from your guns out of fear, but duty. You have Cadia, but the Imperium shall endure as it always has. So says Guiren, the Emperor's Champion."

Worldclaimer returned the pointed sword gesture with a point from his Helspear. "Ha! You are blind! The Crimson Path has been opened, reality breaks as we speak and the wonders of the Powers bleed through the wound. Even if by some miracle you survive, you cannot stop the coming of Chaos! It is inevitable."

"If that were true, then why are you so desperate to stop us? A ragged fleet of defeated warriors." Guiren declared, pointing his jet-black sword at Worldclaimer. "I know what you seek to stop. I have seen it. Your master fears what we do here, and I shall not allow him to interfere."

"Come then, Corpse Champion." Haarken taunted. "Join your Corpse God in death."

---

Summer writhed in agony. Never in all her life did she expect to be in this much pain. What she had experienced on Cadia was pinpricks on her skin by comparison to the mental torture this placed on her. The fact that such pain was even possible was beyond her comprehension. Every fiber of her being felt like it was being pulled apart, burned, cut, crushed, stretched and stabbed at the same time. But she forged on, to break now would force everyone to be exposed to the icy bite of the world and that would spell doom for them right now.

She could see and feel everyone. The entirety of Osiris as he held her in his arms. Amalrich, Cawl, Greyfax, Nicholas, Elaine, Finlay, Tarn, Lothar, all of the Cadians, all of the Scions, the Sisters and Templars, even at a distance she could see Celestine. She was the clearest of all.

The enemy were like malevolent shadows. Their horrible silhouettes clashed with the bright forms of her allies. Even the landscape felt different. Like a painting done using the actual materials of such an environment, but for some reason she could only perceive it as a painting.

She could single them all out. Amalrich was in trouble, so she poured more of her aura into him. She could have done more but she was spread thin. Good thing he was expert enough to make use of the small edge she gave him.

Kadan was having trouble with a particularly vicious shadow, the intentions of this monster were clear, it rang out of his soul like funeral bells. He was after Cawl, Kadan could not afford to lose, and Summer did not want him to die, so she tried to get another to help him. The Champion, as he called himself, responded to her intrusive action with even more enthusiasm than the Marshal.

Summer wanted to thank Greyfax for her help, but the woman shrugged her off. She tolerated the connection for its benefits but forced any influence or insight Summer had away. It was obvious, the woman didn't trust the huntress.

The pain reached a new apex as another batch of soldiers fell, both under the guns and the boots of the falling Astartes form above. There were more of them coming, both from the sky and land. As the battle raged on more and more enemies came flocking to their position.

Summer noticed Cawl staring up into the sky. While Summer couldn't see that far up with her Soul Sight, she could guess what he was looking at, the sense of worry that he gave off said it all.

"It would appear that we are running out of time." His voice sounded clear in his mind, but there was a slight strain to it. He spoke through the vox system the Astartes used. Summer perceived both sides of the conversation at once.

"Marshal. You must pull back." Belisarius said. "We cannot maintain this defense for much longer."

"Are you mad? If we flee now, they will dive headlong into the mortal ranks and charge straight to you."

"I understand that Marshal, but we cannot remain. The Despoiler has dispatched dropships to our location. If we remain then we shall be overrun within the hour."

"A constant flow of traitors is sustaining the encirclement. Only the Knights and the Holy Saint can get through without being run down."

Summer stopped listening; she'd heard enough to devise a quick plan. It was hard to think, but this wasn't a hard problem, not when she could talk to anyone on her side whenever she wanted.

Reaching out, she focused of the shining for, of the angel and called out to her. "Celestine." Her voice was soft as a whisper, but it came through clear as day.

"Summer?" Celestine questioned as she hacked away at a shadow.

"Come back... Out of time... Need to move." Summer could only force out the barest of essential information.

Celestine did not halt her actions, but Summer could sense her friend mulling over her options. She would have smiled when Celestine called out to her Sisters to return. When the angel landed among the Templars, the Sisters maintaining the encirclement between the Rhinos cheered as they ran out to aid her, freeing enough space for the Rhinos to move. While that went smoother than expected, she knew she was not finished.

Now for the next part of her plan. She did not need to look far. Nicholas was in the crowd, fighting a large shadow, with Finlay disrupting the thing's balance with well-placed shots to its exposed joints. Elaine and her squad were doing something similar, but rather than dueling, they focused fire on the shadow while Elaine harassed it up close, mimicking what Summer did in the Pylon cave.

"Nic." She called out, nearly causing him to get hit in the abdomen by a snarling rod of hooked teeth.

"Summer?" He replied, blocking the next attack with a glyph. They looked to be made of actual snow here. The frost wafted off their forms like vapor.

"More coming... Need to go... Break circle now."

"You want me to break the line by myself?"

Off to the side, Summer saw Finlay tilt his head for a split-second before landing a shot behind what she assumed was the shadow's knees. "Who ya talking to, Fancy? Are yer powers driving ya loony?"

Nicolas jumped back onto a glyph and launched himself at the shadow, bringing his oversized weapon down on it. Taking a short breath, he replied to his friend. "I'm fine. Just talking to Summer."

Finlay looked at Nicholas with skepticism. It would have made Summer laugh if the situation was not getting worse with each passing second.

"Do you have a plan?" His question to the huntress gave her no shortage of frustration which was only compounded by the buildup of phantom pains she was experiencing.

"Use. Your. SUMMONS!" She put a little too much concentration on the intensity of her reply, as the Schnee clutched his head as she spoke.

Finlay rushed over to Nicholas and Summer felt a pang of shame for her failure to reign in her aggression. These relapses have been happening more frequently than she was comfortable with. More meditation sessions are seen in her future.

"Sorry." Was all she could get out. The pain was beginning to overwhelm her.

Nicholas detected the faintness of her echo. He held no grudge for her slip up. She felt only a sense of understanding from him. Waving Finlay off, he stood up straight. "Which way?"

As Summer directed him to Cawl, she noticed Greyfax watching with no shortage of restrained aggression. Her eyes watched Nicholas, but her mind was listening to Summer. Probing for deceit. The huntress ignored her. Summer's intentions were genuine as they always were. There was nothing to be afraid of.

---

Celestine brought the Ardent Blade down on another Raptor, its burning edge breaking apart the twisted golden trim of the heretic's Power Armor. There wasn't much time. The Despoiler was coming, and they were still trapped here. While the situation was dire, she did not panic. To panic was to falter in your conviction, and her's was that of adamantium.

Summer had a plan; she could feel it in their connection. It transmitted more than just words, it showed the Saint sensation and intention. There was no fear in the huntress, only a determination to get them out alive.

Celestine may not have been a field tactican, but she had the experience to deduce that her friend wanted them all together for a mass exodus. That meant something was coming to break the encirclement of Chaos Bikers.

Until then, she searched for the Marshal. With her Geminae Superia at her side, she cut across the snowy battlefield. Trusting in the will of the God-Emperor to guide her to his servant.

"Marshal!" She called out as her faith was rewarded.

The Astartes had felled two of the foe, his armor was scratched and dented. His cape was torn to the point that it wasn't even noticeable anymore.

"Blessed Lady." He replied respectfully as he could while shouting.

"The time is almost upon us. You must be ready to follow once their mobile units ae disrupted."

"I am aware of this, what of their assault forces? My brothers cannot outrun their Jump Packs."

"The Knights shall provide suppressing fire to harry their mounted support."

At that moment, the ground lit up with three snowflake runes, each the size of a Land Raider. White shapes rose from each one. They were large and bulky creatures. With leathery bodies, large ears, bone like masks, long trunks that took the place of noses, curved tusks protruding from their mouths, and four large and stubby legs.

The three beasts trumpeted in unison as they charged the line of bikers blocking Cawl's path. They ploughed through them and ran off to meet the latest arrivals to keep them from patching the hole.

The Archmagos' voice broadcast across every frequency. "Follow the giant psychic pachyderm manifestations!"

"Brothers! Follow the white daemons!" Amalrich bellowed as got on his Chapter Vox and ordered the Rhinos to hold themselves to extract as many Templars as they could before making their escape. Many of the Astartes broke off from the battle without a word, even if they would have preferred to keep fighting.

The Marshal turned to the Saint and with a slight bow he bid her good hunting before sprinting off to keep up with the massed retreat, a bolt shell exploding not far off to this right.

---

Haarken lunged forward with his claw, intending to catch Guiren's blade on it, leaving him exposed to a follow up thrust with the Helspear. The warrior instead maneuvered his sword into a reverse strike and struck the back of the gauntlet, leaving the Templar in a perfect stance to parry the planned thrust and nearly cleave Haarken's left arm off.

Backing away from the warrior for the umpteenth time, he roared in anger. This was ridiculous. He was locked in a stalemate with one Astartes. A Corpse worshipper. Once the brain fire had faded, he assumed that he would have the advantage but no. The warrior's speed and precision had matched and nearly outplayed Worldclaimer's ferocity.

Enough was enough. He brought the Helspear high above his head, intending to impale his foe with it. Not caring that if he missed, he would be down a weapon. He was still faster than the filth in the air.

A trio of trumpeting sounds echoed across the battlefield, leaving Haarken perplexed. There were no fauna on this world other than those strange ice worms that swallowed one of his kin whole. That had been amusing.

What he saw was some strange white monster running over the bikers, like a Predator tank through fallen logs. Where had those things come from?

"It would appear our time is over." Said Guiren.

"What?" Questioned Haarken.

The Templar did not answer, opting to turn and run. He wanted to jeer at the coward, but then he noticed the shift. All of the Loyalists were disengaging. The Loyalist Astartes ducked under a mass of lasbeams from the mortals, before running towards the crowd as it backed away. The Archmagos was leading the march, his cog toothed axe held high as if he were some prophet guiding his flock. It was overly dramatic.

The very notion of this almost stunned him. The mortal weaklings he expected to cut and run, but not the maidens. They were notorious for their desire to martyr themselves. Abaddon's council often joked on how many they could get to commit suicide in battle rather than retreat. To see them and the most aggressive breed in the lineage of Dorn retreat did not bode well.

This was not good. The scum had broken free from the trap and were now on the move again. Haarken almost vibrated from the amount of rage boiling his blood. The marking of Khorne placed on one of his skull trophies was steaming in the cool air around it.

"RUN THEM DOWN!" He screamed as he ignited his thrusters.

A powerful explosion robbed him of the momentum he was building. The staccato boom of the Knights' massive guns expelling their payloads dominated his auditory senses.

The space that was his battlefield suddenly turned into a copy of a crater covered moon. The Knights had turned their attention on them.

With a howl of frustration, he turned and took to the air. Narrowly avoiding the shell that was meant for him.

As he gained altitude, he felt the weight of failure fall on his shoulders. Lord Abaddon would not be pleased.

---

Nicholas felt the cold wind whip through his hair and beard. When he felt none of the cold a smile crossed his lips. The Goliath Grimm summons were creating a path through the snow, trampling the high piles of it into an easily traversable road.

He kept his concentration on regulating the speed of his familiars. The convoy was still made up of mostly normal people. Highly trained and fanatical people, but still people and he did not begrudge them for their beliefs. Remembering a time he bent the knee to the Brother of Light exclusively. Those days were behind him now.

The vibrations of the large machine conveyer he stood on provided a form of comfort for his old bones. As he scanned the thing, looking over all the exposed parts, over the top mechanisms, and loud rumbling noises, he almost forgot that this thing was supposed to be advanced technology. It was so different compared to the sleek and quiet designs of the Atlas Military. Then again, this was not the most advanced thing out there in the galaxy, but the things Ironwood was developing are the peak of what the Kingdom can provide.

He glanced at the cyborg mountain of machine parts next to him. Whatever technological method was used to turn a human being into this hunched thing with four extra mechanical arms and mechadendrites sticking out of his chest, Nicholas wanted no part of it. The very idea of someone removing a part of him and replacing it with wires, gears, rods and circuits chilled him to his core.

The flap of wings caught his attention. Flying next to the conveyer was Celestine, gliding by on still wings as if there was an invisible breeze. That shining smile on her face greeted him. "You did well, Sir Nicholas."

He felt a hard slap on the back of his shoulder, followed by the distorted voice of Cawl. "Yes. Well done, my boy. Well done."

Nicholas blinked as he registered the mannerisms of the thing that was once a man. He was more bombastic than Nicholas had expected him to be. Also, the Schnee patriarch was not used to being referred to as a younger man. He would ask the techno magician to stop but decided against it for the sake of not being a hypocrite.

"Thank you. But I'll admit it was not my idea."

"Pish posh." Cawl waved another metal limb in front of Nicholas in a dismissive manner. "Planning and execution are both of equal importance within the Motive Force. You played your part to perfection and gave us the breach we were looking for. We are making great progress now and should reach the summit before nightfall."

Nicholas looked up at the mountain pass before them. The darkening sky was lit with stars and cosmic phenomena that he had no name for. These were not the auroras he was used to seeing in the cold North of Atlas. Waves of light stretched across the void far above the mountains. Undisturbed by the destruction of the fleet that had carried them here. The route they were taking was not the steepest incline, but it would still be a challenge to scale with this many people. "Mind if I ask what is at the summit?"

"You may." Cawl answered. "But it would be pointless because I do not know."

The Goliaths almost stumbled at the news he just heard. "Excuse me?"

Cawl let out a wry chuckle. "Relax. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"I would disagree, especially as there's an army of madmen hunting us down." Nicholas kept his tone level, but his agitation was shown on his face.

"And I would disagree with your disagreement. If you've been paying attention, you'd know I am not the leader of this little pilgrimage of ours." Cawl chuckled in wry amusement.

"Then who is? Everyone has been following you."

"Ahem." Came the voice of Celestine, making Nicholas give her a questioning look. One which she responded with her usual smile.

"The Astartes did not name our merry venture the 'Celestinian Crusade' for nothing, my boy." Cawl laughed. It was unpleasent due to the static nature of his voice.

"Oh." Nicholas said, realizing his error. "I am sorry, my lady."

"Think nothing of it. We all have different views, but our goals are aligned in service to the Emperor." Nicholas still had trouble believing the graciousness of this woman.

"Yes. While mistakes were made, all is as the Omnissiah wills it to be." Cawl admitted.

"What is at the summit, my lady?" Nicholas asked politely.

A presence entered his mind. He noticed a slight shift on Celestine's features as well as Cawl's remaining flesh hand twitching.

"You are not the only curious one." Celestine said.

"Quite the strange little psyker isn't she?" Cawl questioned. "I saw reports of her ravaging my armories while we fled the Black Fleet. Most unusual behavior if you ask me."

"You'll find she has an extreme fondness for weaponry." Nicholas admitted, recalling the old jests about the Dorns' obsession with tools of destruction. Not out of malicious intent, just a level of fascination that bordered on pathological.

He felt a slight jab in his mind as she tried to rebuke him. But the feeling of slight conceit told him that she was not going to deny it.

"Ah. Then she has already gained the Machine God's favor." Cawl hummed. "To fully understand the wonders of the machine, one must first learn to appreciate them. Perhaps once this is all said and done, I can show her some of my old designs. It has been so long since I could share my knowledge with someone who wouldn't censure me for my unorthodox ideas. What's the point of being a genius if you can't show it off?"

The Archmagos' body went stiff for a moment, before vibrating slightly with a harumph from his vocalizer.

"Did she say something?" Celestine inquired.

"Yes." Cawl said sounding slightly annoyed. "She called me a braggart. How rude."

Stifling a giggle, Celestine's serene features contorted in amusement. "You rarely hesitate to show of your supreme intellect, Lord Cawl. Perhaps you'd get a better reception to your brilliance if you acted humbler?"

"Bah!" Cawl groaned waving her off with one of his mechanical hands. "Humility is for politicians and menials. I am neither. I am a scholar. A keeper of ancient lore. Why should I not be proud of that?"

The Archmagos turned his hooded face to Nicholas, who flinched at the sight of his inhumanly pale and sunken features. He looked like a half dead corpse. How could anyone still be alive in such a state?

"Surely you can understand this, my boy?"

"Umm…" Nicholas was not sure what Cawl meant. Nicholas was a learned man when compared to most in Atlas. But a scholar? Not at all. That title would have to go to Pietro Polendina. However, Nicholas doubted even that prodigy could compete with the thing in front of him. Before he could voice his objection Cawl continued to speak.

"Just look at what you've brought to life." He pointed his axe at the Goliaths. "Ha! Many of my fellows debated the appearance of such creatures. Large trunked mammals of the pachyderm subtype with large floppy ears. A long extinct species from the soil of Ancient Terra. You must be in possession of some truly well-preserved records to create a psychic facsimile of them with this much accuracy."

The excitement in the Archmagos' voice almost distracted Nicholas from the contents of his words. The summons were of Grimm he had killed, he was no zoologist. Cawl must have been referring to the animal the Goliaths were based off of.

"You mean elephants?"

Cawl stared at the Grimm copies and brought one of his metal arms up to stroke the metal plate that covered a good portion of his face. "Is that their name? I was under the impression it was Loxodonta Africana. Wait, no, it was simpler than that."

Cawl grumbled incoherently as if he were trying to dig up a long-forgotten memory that refused to come back to him.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Nicholas asked politely.

"Not to worry. It is merely a gap in my memory. The result of having too many mind wipes." He said in a tone that sounded nonchalant.

Nicholas did not pursue that line of this conversation. Feeling a slight bit of anxiousness coming from Summer's presence.

"Whatever, I'm sure it will come to me eventually." Cawl reassured. "Still, I would like to see what other ancient fauna you are aware of."

"Ancient?" Nicholas repeated more than asked. "These aren't ancient. I've seen them in person back home on Remnant, they are far from extinct."

Cawl then stared at him, those old eyes piercing Nicholas with more life than they had any right to possess. "Really? There are some living specimens on your home planet?"

Nicholas gave him a nod, making the Archmagos chuckle in delight. "Hohoho. Now that is interesting. I wonder how they got there. Were they transported there during the Dark Age I wonder? If so, what was the purpose? A planet sized reserve due to the failing environment of Terra?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about." Nicholas admitted. Summer had given a brief rundown of the galaxy spanning empire, but the history of the larger universe was a mystery top her and by extension him.

"I suppose it does not matter. History is meant to teach, but if it provides no real solution or lesson then it is best to leave it be. I would like to see your home should the chance arise."

"You're not the only one." Nicholas said, suddenly feeling sullen and his mood was met with the fierce resolve of Summer.

An instant later he heard her words in his mind delivered with the certainty of a declaration of war. "We will get home."

---

Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax trudged along in the snow as she contemplated the situation she found herself in. With all the action that was taking place during the past standard week, investigating the fleet as they retreated for signs of corruption and treachery took up most of her attention.

Now that she could do nothing but walk, she found herself free to think. Without the cold to force her to pour all her efforts into pushing through the pain it would bring. Her armor was advanced but not nearly to the extent of the Astartes.

The irony of it was that the only reason she was able to think so freely now was because of the daemon maiden that was shielding them all from the cold. Cloaking them all in a psychic field that altered reality around each individual to counteract the climate. It annoyed Greyfax that she had to endure the constant mental presence of the daemon in order to maintain this boon.

She had scanned this field with her own psychic talents' multiple times for signs of corruption or attempts at manipulation even in the middle of the battle that had just occurred. The inquisitor was able to scan the psychic machinations of the witch while her attention was focused on other individuals. Seeing if the woman had altered the actions of the soldiers or Astartes. And indeed, she did. However, much to Greyfax's frustration, the influence the woman exerted on those around her was purely for the benefit of the of those she focused on.

The intent of their psychic aid was to ensure they avoided a pyrrhic victory. She wanted to keep casualties low. At the time Greyfax was sure there must have been some ulterior motive behind it. Did she want to lure them all into a trap that only she was aware of. Some special ritual or pact made with another of her kind. Or perhaps her supposedly kind nature extended to other daemons and the display back in the caves back on Cadia had been a carefully formulated rouse? A trick to throw the inquisitor off the scent.

Greyfax caught a glimpse of Summer talking with the abomination. Trazyn. Even the name of that fiend sent a spike of adrenaline through her nervous system as her fingers twitched. The microscopic machines it had placed within her had essentially bound her to its will. Even with her notorious stubbornness, she could not defy him.

A new theory came to mind. Had the Necron done the same to the daemon maiden somehow? Forced false memories into her mind to trick Greyfax and prevent her from uncovering another plot the machine had concocted. She stowed that theory away. The woman was not the leader here. That title went to the winged heretic that proclaimed purity. Claiming to speak with the Emperor's voice.

At least Summer made no such claims. For all the mistrust thrown the woman's way, Greyfax appreciated the small bit of honesty.

That thought had brought on another idea. Glancing around, she made sure no one was paying any attention to her.

Satisfied that she won't be disturbed, she her focus to the woman in the arms of the Custodian. First, she allowed her foremost mental defenses to drop. This was the bait. The daemon maiden made several weak attempts at communication during and before the battle. Greyfax had brushed them all aside in aggravated annoyance, not releasing that she could have used such instances to silently interrogate the witch. Spread out as she was, Summer would not be able to form a solid defense against someone whom she was giving aid to. That was what Greyfax was counting on. Given the scale of her abilities, Summer had demonstrated that her psychic abilities were above that of Greyfax in terms of raw ability. While the woman lacked training, the glimpses of Summer's progress she gleamed from the minds of the Cadians and Templars had allowed her to deduce that the maiden was a remarkably quick learner. As if she already knew how her abilities worked, but somehow forgot she had them.

With this in mind, Greyfax did not want to risk a full-on psychic inquisition, lets she trigger a violent backlash from the woman. Or worse, the daemon maiden learns how to return the favor through the experience.

With a quiet sigh, she called out to the maiden within the confines of the mental landscape and got an answer.

Summer had reacted with wariness, understandably surprised that Greyfax wanted to converse with her after brushing her off several times at this point. But it wasn't a distrust, it was just a desire to avoid upsetting the disgruntled inquisitor. Somehow, that made Greyfax even more annoyed.

She had expected a good amount of suspicion from the maiden, but there was none to be found. Just a curious, albeit strained patience. Summer knew that the inquisitor was not making this attempt at silent communication for idle chatter.

While still distrustful, Greyfax was slightly relieved that the maiden was not creating any unnecessary complications out of spite or her own annoyance. The huntress understood the situation she was in and acted accordingly, choosing to acquest to the inquisitor.

"Summer Rose." Greyfax said within the confines of their linked minds.

"Yes?" Summer replied simply.

Greyfax sensed Summer did not want to keep her sentences so short, but the strain of the battle and her constant vigil over their forces had left her struggling to focus on formulating words. She was limited to what she could say in a single sentence. This was fine. If she struggles to even communicate this way, then she would struggle to lie.

"I have questions. You shall answer them." It was not a request and she made sure to share that notion with the huntress.

After a moment, Summer replied with one word. "Ask."

"Who do you serve?"

Greyfax received a sense of confusion in response. Then a small sense of realization came through their link. "Emperor... I... Suppose." The response came with a flicker of awkwardness. Like she was unused to the notion.

"Why?" Greyfax asked immediately afterwards, not bothering to argue with the answer she received. She needed the motive for why a daemon would claim to serve the Master of the Imperium. Once she had more, she could start to put the pieces together.

"For home... Family."

Greyfax recalled the memories she gleamed from the huntress before. If she wanted, Greyfax could look again, but that was not a good idea. Not while the woman was aware of Greyfax's psychic presence. It might force her to close herself off. She did have another question. Were those really her memories?

"That can't be it." Greyfax pressed on. "What do you have to gain?"

"Want... To... Help."

"Why?"

The response was a mixture of shame and anger. "World... Horrible."

Greyfax understood that. From her days as an acolyte, she had been told that the galaxy is a vile pit of corruption and evil. For every light you saw there were twenty shadows hiding nearby to snuff it out. Worse, the light was in cahoots with the shadows, taking advantage of those less fortunate or unable to fight back. Greyfax turned her attention to the winged woman at the front of the column. Her finger twitched around the trigger of her Condemnor Boltgun.

"Celestine." Came the mental copy of Summer's voice. "You... Don't... Like?"

Greyfax had to stop herself from cutting the woman off. In that brief moment of weakness, Summer had read the inquisitor's mood and nearly grasped the intent behind it. She was learning quickly. Greyfax would need to be more careful.

"Yes." Greyfax admitted, seeing no reason to deny it.

"Why?"

The Inquisitor wondered if she should answer the daemon. After a short debate, she decided to go on. The winged witch was aware of Greyfax's opinion of her.

"She is a false prophet. I have seen many of her ilk throughout my life. All claiming divinity when they are nothing but pretenders using lies to influence the weak. Such things always lead to corruption and chaos."

"But... Celestine... Not... False."

Greyfax firmed her lips as they came to their first impasse. She would need to choose her next words carefully.

"Why do you say that? Is it because of the light she emits? Her psychic presence is similar to yours. Is it her preaching that the Emperor follows her wherever she goes? Every pretender has made use of these tricks and it always ends the same."

"She... Saved... Me." Was the answer Summer gave.

"A ploy to gain your trust. All part of a larger plan for power."

"No." Summer said with a sense of finality that brokered no argument.

Greyfax was taken by surprise when an array of images assaulted her mind. She wasn't able to get her mental defenses up before the images of daemons and storms surged into her skull. Biting back a gasp, she forced herself to march on. This caught her off guard, witnessing the Empyrean in such an unfiltered state was unsettling, even in a memory. The images of two Greater Daemons battling, both of different types battering against one another for the woman's soul. Creatures of pure shadow crawling towards her. The bright light she used to fend them off. The avian daemon's mockery of her plight. Then the perspective changed. Her mind barely kept up with the process of reviewing the memory from two viewpoints simultaneously.

Greyfax nearly stumbled from the effort but kept herself steady not wanting to draw attention. She was an Inquisitor, but she was also a psyker surrounded by the machinations of the Archenemy. It would not take much for the soldiers around her to get the wrong idea.

She recalled this memory from when she spied on Summer back on Cadia, but it lacked this sense of clarity. Two souls, one far mightier than the other, joining into one. Greyfax felt the panic Summer experienced in the moment of this happening.

Greyfax felt her own sense of disgust conflict with Summer's memory of comfort as her soul joined with that of the light. As for the light itself, Greyfax had a difficult time understanding the emotions or perspective of it, all she felt was a sense of hollowness, like it was incomplete somehow. The daemon that found Summer lived in the moment and ignored the past once it held no more value. How ironic that the huntress was the exact opposite, refusing to forget no matter what.

After the joining, the Bloodthirster returned, and Summer nearly succeeded in subduing it. Seeing the potency of the flash of light the woman used, made Greyfax take a note not to match her powers against Summer openly.

Then came Celestine, slaying the Greater Daemon and offering Summer aid. Then the memory ended.

"Not... Trick." Summer said as Greyfax regained her perceptions.

The Inquisitor made a note not to let her guard down around the woman ever again. She was adapting to various forms of mental communication. Directly transmitting memories was not a low-level skill. Greyfax was planning on exploiting the woman's weakened state, only to have her deliberate vulnerability exploited instead. Only now did she realize that she grossly underestimated the power of the daemon. If she could do this while spread so thin, then Greyfax did not want to contend with her when she had nothing holding her back.

"Not... Planned." Summer continued. "Hate... Celestine... If... You... Want... But she... Not... Liar."

"I am an Inquisitor." Greyfax bit back. "To me, everyone is a liar."

"But... Not lie... About... Goal."

"What is her goal then?" Greyfax asked. "What is our plan of action? She said she knows the path to our salvation. Claiming that the two of you shared a vision. Tell me what you saw."

"Storms... Monsters... Drowning... It's coming... The storm... We go... To... Ultramar."

Greyfax blinked. Ultramar. The home of the Ultramarines and one of the most stable regions of space in the Imperium. "What do you expect to find there? The Ultramarines have an outstanding reputation, but one Chapter of Space Marines cannot stop what Abaddon has unleashed."

"Not... See... Chapter... Saw... One... Man... Like... Marine... But... Bigger."

Greyfax mulled over the woman's words. Not satisfied in the slightest, but now she had more pieces of the puzzle.

"How can you trust this vision? How do you know it's not some trick from the enemy or some manipulation from the so-called Saint?"

The next statement came with a hint of amusement. "Celestine... Not good... Liar... Cried... In... Vision."

Greyfax almost felt herself grin. As if the woman's sense of amusement had infected her somehow. The Inquisitor bit it back but did not forget the notion of seeing that sanctimonious face covered in tears. While not a sadist, Greyfax did like bringing down those who held themselves up high, with either their authority of religious validation. She just didn't take it to the point where she allowed it to get in the way. Satisfaction in your work was fine as long as it did not allow for corruption to seep into your soul.

She shook the sensation away. "What even are you?"

A sense of uncertainty reached the inquisitor, either she did not know the answer to the question, or she did not understand the question. Greyfax decided to clarify. "Are you the human who was lost in the Warp or the daemon that consumed her?"

"Both." The answer came immediately.

"Yet, you still call yourself Summer? What is your other name?"

"Don't... Remember."

Greyfax held onto her skepticism. It was possible that Summer was lying, but then again, the memory did not reveal the name of the daemon either. Did the daemon sacrifice its identity in order to combine with a human soul? Was that its desire? To become human? If so, what did that make the resultant creature? What was Summer Rose?

As the march of the company steadily got steeper, a strange buzzing was brought to Greyfax's notice. It felt disturbing. It kept growing stronger as they approached the nearest plateau.

"You... Feel... That?"

"Yes."

"The ledge... Can't see." Greyfax felt the woman's growing sense of dread. Something was very wrong.

Cutting the connection, the inquisitor pushed her way through the crowd as she made her way to the Triaros Conveyer, it took her a moment before she realized that she was being followed by the Tempestor Prime. Greyfax did not care to remember the man's name.

"Inquisitor. What is the matter?"

"Prepare yourselves." Greyfax warned. "There may be another ambush ahead."

Her words reached more ears than just the Tempestor. All around her, she heard the clicks of their weapons being primed. It built up into a chorus until the loud clank of Boltgun magazines being placed into their chambers could be heard.

When Greyfax jogged beside the conveyer, Celestine lowered herself to the ground, strolling beside her almost casually.

"Is something the matter, Katarinya?"

The inquisitor wanted to cut the witch off. To tell her not to use Greyfax's first name but decided to focus on the more immediate problem. "Summer believes there is another ambush ahead."

Celestine's calm smile broadened. "You were conversing with her?"

"I was interrogating her." Corrected Greyfax.

"Did someone say something about an ambush?" Called the Archmagos from above.

"On the ledge up ahead." Greyfax replied. "There's some form of psychic interference there."

"Hmm." The Archmagos' voice became static for a moment before he spoke again. "Nicholas, my boy. Send your elephants charging in. Make sure they cause maximum destruction."

Greyfax heard no response, but she felt a psychic pulse. Followed by the bellowing trumpet of the three white simulacrums that marched ahead of the column. They all reared up before charging ahead, causing the snow to shift due to the vibrations of their mighty tread.

Once they were far ahead, they crossed over the ledge. Greyfax drew her sword when she heard the loud cries of the strange creatures as blasts of blackish purple light streaked across the mountainside.

A pain filled gasp was heard atop the conveyer, followed by a series of coughs. "Space Marines." Came the voice of Nicholas Schnee. "But they're different. They used some strange kind of power to cut me off from my summons."

"Sorcerers." Celestine said, her voice developing a serious edge to it.

"How many?" Called out Greyfax.

"Eight."

"Right then!" Cawl bellowed with his inbuilt vox speaker. "Guns up everyone, we have to kill them before they use their witchery on us!"

"Abhor the witch! Destroy the witch!" Chanted the Templars as their Rhinos drove past the convoy to engage the enemy.

Everyone sped up to add their guns to the battle. Celestine took to the air, causing many in the crowd to cheer as her light washed over them. Greyfax scoffed at the praise the so-called Saint received. Breaking into a run, the inquisitor planned to reach the ledge as the Astartes attacked.

The pressure of another mind brushing up against her own told her that Summer wanted to converse again. Ignoring her, Greyfax pushed forward. Running past the conveyer and into the biting cold of the world.

Gritting her teeth, she ran along the path cleared by the giant psychic creatures. The cold was far worse than she expected. The sound of bolter fire was heard along with a series of explosions.

Once she reached the edge of the plateau, she saw them. A group of black-armored warriors in ritualistic robes. They all carried staffs or ornate daemonic blades designed for enhancing their foul blasphemies. Their helmets were all different. Some had horns growing from the metal. Others had snake helms and packs.

The Templars were already attacking them with zealous fury. But the Black Legion Sorcerers were a far cry from the rank-and-file traitors she encountered before. They were a league above. Greyfax could feel the psychic currents surrounding them as they channeled the energies of the Warp into themselves.

Some, around five, used it to augment their physical bodies. Moving with such speed that they appeared to be three of them defending where only one was standing. Two were bombarding the Templars with their sorcery from a distance. Hurling lightning and bolts of dark power.

Two Rhinos were already in ruins and the Astartes were struggling to push them back. But it was not hopeless. The Sorcerers were forced to concede ground as more Astartes joined the fray and piled on.

Greyfax leveled her bolter and took aim. Then she noticed one of the Sorcerers acting strangely. The furthest one at the back was not participating in the battle. Appearing to be deep in thought.

Casting her mind outward, she focused on the inactive Astartes. Gasping, she discovered that he was attempting to transmit this location to the fleet above. He was trying to summon reinforcements. Not good. If the Despoiler discovered their location now, then he would converge all his forces on them. A protracted engagement was death under these conditions.

The enemy had a fleet to draw on. Fresh ammunition and bodies to hurl at them. All of their troops were Astartes or mutants and given enough time, they would summon daemons.

In contrast, Greyfax had a fraction of the number of Astartes. A battered Convent of Sisters of Battle. Two damaged Regiments. A few Skitarii. Four Imperial Knights. Some Rhinos. No place to hold out and absolutely zero supplies to sustain their mortal troops. Facing their enemy head on was not an option if they wanted to survive this.

Greyfax focused her mind on the inactive Sorcerer. Forcing the power of her mind to hammer against his mental defenses. She felt him stumble in his efforts, not expecting his foes to have a psyker of their own. Turning his helmet towards her, she felt him push back. Sadistic amusement saturating his psychic assault.

She stood firm under his counter offensive. Raising her Condemor, she took aim and pulled the trigger. A trio of blessed bolt shells soared across the snowy mountainside to crash into the marine's armor. There was damage, but he ignored it and ramped up the pressure.

Greyfax refused to kneel. She knew that so long as he focused his attention on her, he would not be able to contact his allies. The falling snow had covered their tracks, buying them precious time.

The cold that assaulted her body began to thaw as she felt the familiar presence of Summer fall over her. While the relief was appreciated, it was small comfort when she had to give her all to the foe.

The Sorcerers were stubborn. They appeared to be working in concert magnify each other's abilities. When a rain of bolt shells fell upon them, the two at the back would conjure a barrier of witchlight to stop them. Close quarters combat was proving to be deadly. While the best of the Templars had yet to arrive those that were there were being cut down as they forced the foe farther back.

"Greyfax." Came the voice of Summer.

"Not now." She managed to respond without losing her focus.

"Can... Help."

Greyfax fired at the marine again. This time he responded with warpfire rounds from his own twisted mockery of a sacred bolt pistol. One of those rounds nearly took her head off.

"Greyfax!" Summer's mental voice was like the toll of a great gong.

"Shut up!" She roared as she loaded her sacred piercing bolt on the stringed launcher at the top of her Condemnor.

"Let me help you!" Greyfax felt the cold brush against her as the words sounded within her skull. Summer allowed her focus to slip.

Behind her, she heard worried shouts as the freezing sensation faded. Followed by a mass of footsteps. The soldiers knew their cover from the elements was reaching its limit.

Celestine and her Geminae Superia descended on the Sorcerers, followed by the Seraphim. Guardsman and Greyfax's Kappic Eagles took positions beside her and sent a barrage of superheated particles into the mix. Now the two Sorcerer at the back were stuck on full defense in order to protect their comrades.

The psychic assault the inquisitor's adversary weakened. Seeing that the battle was lost. He was attempting to contact his masters while trying to fend off Katarinya's interference.

"Can... Help."

"How?" Greyfax responded as she tried to slow the traitor's plea for aid.

"Can't... See... Need... Eyes... To... See."

This notion brought a scoff out of the inquisitor. Was the daemon asking for permission to enter her mind? Form a link between the two that would allow her to see through Katarinya's eyes? Absolutely not.

"Why?"

"You... Only... Other... Here... Who... Talks... To... Me... Same... Celestine... Too... Busy."

Greyfax couldn't help but feel annoyed for being compared to that witch. But as she watched the Saint cut the Sorcerer's foul warpcraft apart, she realized that Summer needed a less frantic view to lend proper assistance. The Saint was a psyker too, at least in some sense. The psychic probes the inquisitor threw her way did not give the usual responses. But that did not change her answer.

"No."

"Greyfax." The usage of her name came with a level of insistence. Making her wonder why the woman did not try to force her way into the inquisitor's mind like she did before.

Then the answer came to her. Katarinya had her guard down before, her mind open to their conversation. Now she was guarded and warry. Still, Summer did not even make the attempt. A contradictory move. Summer could use the mind of any of the soldiers here. Perhaps even go so far as to pilot one of their bodies from a distance like a marionette on strings. The daemon certainly had the power.

There was a shift in power around the Sorcerer she was assaulting. A purple light began to form behind him as one of his allies fell. She felt Summer's alarm as it mirrored her own. The fiend was tearing a hole in reality using his fallen brothers as fuel.

Greyfax panicked for a moment and fired her bolt shells at the Sorcerer on full auto. While the ensuing barrage managed to stagger him, he was not dead. Leaving Greyfax with her sanctified bolt. She cursed, knowing that this blessed item was meant for daemons and psykers. Not armored Astartes. She would need to land a perfect shot before the rift was fully formed.

"Hold... Him... Down."

Greyfax did not argue. Focusing all her might, she caught the Sorcerer by surprise and managed to immobilize him. The rift was still there. His concentration appeared to be split. Fortunately, Katarinya's was not.

"Let... Me... Help." Came Summer's insistent voice.

Greyfax quickly weighed her options. If she held him down like this, one of her allies would eventually cut him down. But counter to that, one of his allies might abandon the battle and provide the necessary power to open the rift. There was no way to predict what the rift was for. Summoning reinforcements. Escape. Or simply dragging them all into the Warp to be driven mad.

Growling in anger, she gave her response. "Fine."

She felt the psyche of another move into her own skull. Seeing the battle using her eyes. They widened slightly and she felt the woman's surprise at the power of the Sorcerous cabal. This sickened Greyfax. Not only did she have the Mindshackle to contend with, now she had a witch using her mind as well. Or she would have been sickened had Summer acted as Greyfax expected. She thought Summer would rummage through her memories, learn inquisitorial secrets, try to suppress her will. The woman did none of that. Instead, she somehow enhanced Greyfax's vision, focusing on the kneeling Sorcerer that Greyfax was holding down.

Greyfax felt her arm rise of its own volition, taking aim with the Condemor and pulling the trigger. The sanctified bolt flew across the battlefield. Avoiding the Sisters, Astartes, Sorcerers and cutting through their witchcraft. It pierced the traitor's right eye lens.

His body went limp, and the portal fizzled out before he fell back onto the snowy ground.

With her task complete, Greyfax braced herself for a struggle to remove the woman from her mind, only to realize that Summer had already departed. Was it wrong that the inquisitor was slightly disappointed by that?

As soon as she realized that she was alone in her own mind again, the chorus of battle ceased. The bodies of the Sorcerers were dead and broken. Celestine's sword was buried halfway through one of their torsos.

Greyfax stared at her bolter. In her blind fury she expended all her blessed ammunition. She silently chastised herself for being so wasteful. A well-placed shot would have crippled her opponent and given her the opportunity to signal to one of the others to finish him off.

Walking forward she trudged past the bodies of the fallen Templars. She knew of the value of Astartes geneseed. Some of them were in good condition. Good. While she did not always trust the Adeptus Astartes, she acknowledged that they were the best the Imperium had in terms of martial might. Losing them in large numbers and not being able to replace those numbers within the next generation was a devastating loss to the Imperium's overall fighting force.

Such as the incinerated husk of armor that crumbled as she passed it.

"Sorry." She heard Summer say.

Why was she apologizing?

"Won't... Ask... To... Use... You... Again."

Oh. That was why. While Greyfax was against the idea of being used as an extension of another being, she had to admit, Summer was rather courteous when compared to her instructors who drilled her constantly with psychic probing when she was an acolyte.

"It's fine." She answered out loud this time as she reached the corpse of her fallen foe.

"Just give me more time to go over the battle plan. You were respectful to the sanctity of my mind and soul. I appreciate your consideration." She said, doing her best to keep any emotion out of her response.

Summer's relief was felt as Greyfax wrenched her sanctified bolt out of the fallen marine's skull. As a squad of Cadians passed by, her psyocculum noticed that their psychic emanations were above that of standard humans. Not as bright as what was standard for the lowest level of witches, but enough for her to notice.

---

Roughly half an hour had passed, and the company had taken the opportunity to rest for a short time. The Knights and Rhinos took up positions around rocky outcrops to hide their large forms from patrolling Heldrakes.

Greyfax stood at the highest point out of all of them. A pair of magnoculars in hand, she scanned the landscape constantly. Still worried that the Sorcerer had managed to get a message to the Black Fleet, she kept a lookout for any mass gatherings of enemy forces. The Sorcerers were powerful, and Abaddon would notice their absence sooner or later. Even if the message never got out, they'd figure out where the cabal had been before they went missing.

"Inquisitor." Came a respectful voice.

Greyfax took her attention away from the landscape and looked down at her guests. A woman in a Commissars garb stood in crisp salute. Accompanying her was Nicholas Schnee and his companion Finlay Innes.

"Cadet-Commissar Elaine Blackwell." Greyfax said, jumping from her perch and sliding down the steep snow slope. Stopping right in front of the trio, she inspected them up close. She never paid attention to Nicholas, but now she noticed that he was rather strong for a man his age.

Finlay was well built as well, but she knew that Nicholas was far more dangerous. During the ambush he used strange psychic glyphs to control his personal struggles. They were his familiars. The white manifestations he called upon.

For now, her focus was on the youngest member of their little gathering. While it was subtle, Greyfax could feel psychic emanations coming from the woman. This demanded answers.

"I have questions for you, Cadet." She gave Elaine a piercing glare, it was important to instill a good amount of fear when questioning someone. It made it easier to sense when they were lying.

"I shall answer to the best of my ability, Inquisitor." Elaine responded sounding slightly nervous.

"Tell me of your first encounter with the huntress woman again." She had already questioned the cadet on this during their time on board the Iron Revenant but thought to ask again.

"We were sent to clear out a horde of goat-kin in the streets of Kasr Kraf. We were ambushed and cornered. She arrived and cut through the horde, giving us the chance to counterattack. After that, she used her psychic powers to heal both mine and my troopers' injuries."

"And how did she do that?" Greyfax asked, noticing that the Cadet was giving her a shortened version of events. Granted, the inquisitor didn't ask for details before.

"I… umm." The Cadet struggled to find the right words.

Greyfax didn't let her speak. Instead, she bore into the woman's mind and looked at the memory Elaine was remembering. Summer's hands on her torn-up cheek. A purple light engulfing her body. Then the huntress repeated the act with the rest of the Cadians there. Most of them were different in color. One or two pairs were the same.

Then she saw the memory of the following skirmish with three Astartes. One particular moment stuck out. One of the Shock Troopers was caught in the explosion of a bolt round but was protected by the same light Summer called on her moments before.

The psychic pressure Greyfax put out forced Elaine to take a knee. Nicholas knelt down beside her to see if she was hurt. Finlay flicked the safety off his lasgun and watched Greyfax carefully.

"You are a psyker." Greyfax would have sneered had the memory not been so peculiar.

"No!" Elaine managed to say. "I'm not."

"Then explain the psychic barrier covering your form. And why it is so similar to the ability that Summer uses on a continuous basis. Same for the old man here."

Nicholas gave Greyfax a stern look. Not out of anger. It was a warning.

Not really intending to start a fight, she eased up on the pressure so the woman could give her excuses.

"I swear to you Inquisitor that this was not my doing. It was not some pact with witches, nor do I have psychic power." Elaine said standing up straight.

"Then what is it?" Greyfax said, not believing any excuse in the slightest.

"It's called aura." Nicholas answered for the woman. "It is a barrier, created when the soul bears itself outward to protect the body."

Greyfax turned to Elaine. This still counted as a psychic ability, but she allowed for that part of the conversation to drop. "And Summer granted you this ability?"

"She did. Without consulting us in the moment. Intending to use it to mend our injuries. She was unaware that she had alterative means at the time." Elaine said, making sound like a confession to a deadly sin.

Greyfax examined the woman closely. Both with her powers and the psyocculum. Trying to see if she could find even the slightest hint of treachery and corruption. When she found none, she gave a frustrated sigh. "I'm assuming the squad you carry with you all have this aura?"

"Yes, Inquisitor."

"From now on you and your squad shall accompany me until such a time as I deem it fitting to release you from my service." Greyfax said earning a shocked expression from the girl.

"But Inquisitor, my standing orders from the Lord Castellan were to stay with the huntress. She is still our regiment's battle psyker."

"She has the Custodian and Templars to guard her." Greyfax argued, slightly annoyed that the daemon maiden had garnered such favor so quickly and from the infamous Black Templars no less. "I doubt a few missing guardsmen would be missed."

The woman looked dejected. Greyfax peaked into her mind one last time. Elaine was afraid that she would never be made commissar at this rate. The shame of this threatened to crush her. The image of another woman entered Elaine's mind. One that looked identical to her. Only younger.

Greyfax stopped, already aware of the final phase in order to become a cadet under a commissar. The Schola Progenium showed no mercy.

"Besides how else am I to gauge if you are not a threat to her while you guard her."

The woman looked at Greyfax, only now realizing that she had been played. It wasn't that they were not guarding Summer. Just that Greyfax would be staying close to the group, and they would have to defer to the inquisitor before the Colonel-Commissar.

Greyfax needed to learn more about what kind of creature Summer was. She was too altruistic and nonreligious to be a pretender like the false Saint. Summer only mentioned the Emperor when asked. The only goal she had in mind was to return to her home. That left one small worry on Greyfax's mind. Should the enemy discover this desire, could they use it to turn Summer against them? If so, Greyfax would have to put her down. But as the old inquisitorial slogan went. Prevention is always better than the cure.

Turning to Nicholas she began to question him on what he knew of the woman. As they came from the same world, she also questioned him on that. She needed to know everything if she wanted to be ready for any problems.

---

Another half hour later and they all got into formation to continue their march. The Sister's of Battle were at the front with Celestine and Cawl. The Templars and Kappic Eagles held the rear while the Cadian 21st stayed in the center with Osiris, Summer and Greyfax. The Knights of House Tyrannis marched at their sides. Ready to intercept any new attackers.

Everyone was mostly silent as they continued their ascent up the mountainside. The higher they got the harder it was for the Knights to keep up.

Celestine led the way, her pristine wings carrying her forward. She knew what they would find at the summit. While she and Summer had born witness to the revelation of their savior, Celestine had witnessed more after her friend had departed. Her lord in his great wisdom, had shown her things that Summer would not understand. The path forward required one of unflinching resolve and unshakable certainty. They climbed and climbed. Until, at last, they reached the beings they were meant to find.

---

Summer felt everyone brace themselves for another fight. Weapons were raised, and the entire column stopped, but no one fired. The aggression coming from the Templars suddenly spiked to a new height.

Then she felt them. Specks of light in the darkness beyond her perceptions. They weren't Chaos Space Marines, but something more refined in the mindscape. They moved carefully and as they circled the column everyone shifted positions to keep them in sight. Not willing to look away for even a moment.

Celestine descended on the crowd and spoke of peace. Asking them not to fight. But very few of them were pleased, especially the Templars.

"You guide us up here to have us be ambushed by Xenos!" Greyfax barked up at Celestine.

"Be at ease Katarinya. The Emperor has guided us to them. They are the key to our escape form the Despoiler's wrath." Celestine said with no hint of offense or annoyance.

Summer's attention drifted to Cawl. One of the lights had appeared in front of him. He remained fixed on it. "Veilwalker." He said, sounding annoyed to an extreme.

Summer had no idea what a veilwalker was, but it sounded mysterious. After another signal from Cawl to continue their march, they all proceeded with an amount of caution that made them look paranoid to her multidimensional sight. Even the Knights were walking more deliberately than before.

As they continued on, Summer consulted their guide. "Celestine?"

"Yes?" Replied the angel in her own psychic message.

"Can't... See... What... Is... Out... There?"

"Be patient, my friend, and you'll be able to see them with your own eyes."

Summer sent the angel what equated to a mental pout. Celestine just laughed at the antics of the girl she considered to be blessed.

Then something shocking happened. Cawl disappeared. Then the Sister's behind him. Everyone was disappearing one after the other.

"What's... Happening?" She asked with her actual voice for the first time in hours.

"We are walking through an Eldar Webway Gate." Osiris answered with his neutral tone. But she felt a hint of anxiety within him. It was small, barely noticeable, but that alone made Summer worry.

"A... What?"

"All you need to know is that we are finally leaving this frozen deathtrap." Greyfax said, with obvious distrust in her voice, her position constantly shifting to look around at each angle.

Another presence became noticeable to Summer. It was one of the lights. Its focus was on her. She kept her distance from it, not wanting to accidentally provoke whatever it was. The last thing they needed was another fight.

As the disappearing wave reached the Cadians, Summer felt a sense of worry as they began to vanish before her. Out of everyone here, they showed the most concern for her while she shielded them. It was a purely human concern for another's wellbeing. Not a religious dedication like the Templars. Watching them somehow phase out of existence almost made her break her concentration.

As the wave reached her, Osiris stopped and waited as the Cadians continued to march forward. He understood what she wanted. If they stepped through, she might not be able to shield anyone. Once all the Cadians and Scions were through and all that remained were the Templars. Finally, Osiris stepped forward and Summer felt her senses become scrambled. It was like she was rendered blind again. But not because of a lack of something to see, but because of the vastness of it. For a moment she felt as if she were in a vast tunnel. So big that you could fit an entire Kingdom in it.

The feeling only for an instant. Then it was gone, and she could feel everyone again. With the exceptions of Cawl, Osiris, Celestine, they were all looking around in bewilderment. Both in the good and bad sense. And she felt warm. Finally. She felt warm again.

Allowing her new senses to fold in on themselves, she allowed her normal senses to resume their function as her primary means of interacting with the universe.

"You can put me down now." She said with the ease she had come to miss in her short time of being unable to properly express herself.

Osiris said nothing as he lowered himself and she hopped off his arms without opening her eyes.

When her eyes opened, she beheld a beautiful, blue, cloudless sky. The strange third eye thing was great, but she missed being able to see normally.

The sound of purring caught her attention. Looking down, she almost jumped at the sight of a large, blue feline creature sitting beside her feet. Staring up at her with sharp eyes.

"Is that a cat?"

---

There we go. Finally. Sorry this one took me so long lads.

Returning to work and balancing my other stories along with this one is a real challenge, but I'm still determined to give you all the story I promised.

Also, just your annual reminder to give me names for characters you make up that I can use. I will give credit where it is due like I did for the creator of Tarn Katar. Dracko.

But please keep it simple. Throw in essential details but not an entire biography.