Divine Intervention

by CAN I SEE YOUR PASSPORT

Two Girls are saved by a Guardian Angel and Saint Celestine, forging her own path, navigates a world that she has no knowledge on.

27. Don't Stop Dancing, Don't Dare Stop

Don't Stop Dancing, Don't Dare Stop

Kotek listened to Greyfax's words, heard what she learned from Qrows mind. It was clear there was more happening on this world than initially thought. Yet they were still in no position to do anything about it actively.

Marcus was still evading them, Merlot and Tyrian were hidden somewhere else entirely and Celestine was gone for the better part of a week while they had no clue where Hesperax, Ironwood and Emerald were.

Best case scenario, they were alone on the other side, only suffering from mild starvation and dehydration. Worst case, the Labyrinth Dimension's unique inhabitants had driven them deeper or killed them outright. He knew how dangerous the realm could be, even without the Daemons breaching the walls.

It was a ghost of what it once was, filled with the lost and damned of a dying race, filled with ruins left in perfect condition. He'd fought in them, burned them to the ground, and stood firm in defence of them when the Imperium started to fall around him.

The Webway was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

Everything was, to an extent. Nothing was truly 'safe', only varying in degrees of 'dangerous'.

Apparently, the same could be said about the planet he now stood on.

He reached up and knocked on the door in front of him, explicitly in full armour when he didn't need to be. He was lucky that the building Celestine occupied was built during the Great War, it was reinforced to withstand artillery or Grimm, whereas anything built afterwards were not.

Making them susceptible to weight limitations. Limitations tonnes of Auramite armour so-happened to exceed in excessive amounts.

The sounds of shuffling were heard, and the sensors pinged movement on his Heads-Up-Display as a red dot.

The door opened to a greying woman, "oh, hello there,"

Kotek nodded in greeting, "Fria, I apologise for the unannounced visitation,"

The woman waved him off with a small smile, even if concern and awe filled her eyes, "It's no bother. I gather it has to do General Ironwood?"

Kotek nodded, "It does in one way, yes,"

Fria looked back into her apartment, then out at him, "give me a moment, I'll put a coat on, and we can talk outside; I don't want to ruin my floorboards,"

Kotek bowed his head again and stepped to the side as she closed the door.

He settled to watch the civilians milling around the street and the cars going back and forth to destinations only their drivers knew. Yet unlike when he watched from the Academy foyer or in a park, there was a nervousness to the way they walked.

Where there were smiles, there were now glances at the shadows, half-baked feigns of politeness as they mulled over the news.

Events were too close together, building the worry and tension within the populace; and it wasn't as small as Celestine claimed it was. Ten million for an entire planet?

He understood that not many had the privilege to work with accurate data in the Imperium like he did, but surely the Saint had to have questioned how small it was for a planet to populated with. Maybe she wasn't the greatest with numbers, it didn't necessarily matter, only that she had to be corrected on it once he looked into it.

And he did look into it when he found the time; the only reference to ten million in any statistic was the casualty toll of the Faunus Wars forty years back and a rough estimation of those outside the Kingdoms… and that was dated just after the Great War.

Then that begged the question of how many people were estimated to actually live in the Kingdoms?

Potentially, she simply missed the extra zero at the end of the ten billion, or misread it entirely. Now the population and the size of the Kingdoms made sense, and were expected by him in the grand scheme of things.

She wasn't ordering supplies through the Munistorum, so he couldn't fault her for an honest mistake.

The door beside him opened again and Fria stepped out, closing it behind her, "apologies. Now, what was it you wanted to speak about?"

Kotek faced her, "we need more Council members,"

Fria rose a brow, "really, now? I'm retired as you know,"

"True, however, I am not asking you back permanently, only until Ironwood has been returned,"

"Bold of you to assume he will," Fria frowned sadly, "I saw the reports of what they did, I don't hold much hope for the poor man,"

Kotek shook his head, "He will be found, dead or alive. Celestine will make sure of it,"

"Then, why are you here?" Fria asked with a look of confusion, "I'm out of politics,"

"Temporarily rejoin, for however long it takes for Ironwood to be brought back," Kotek glanced out at the people milling about once more. Though some had stopped to stare as usual, "they need guidance and leadership, something that is lacking currently,"

Fria sighed and closed her eyes, "Kotek, was it? I've left because I don't want to be there anymore,"

"And leave Atlas to its own council? There are currently two people in charge and the Military is without leadership," Kotek shook his head, "I have seen what happens when a collective is left without guidance; they wither and die to decay, corruption and indifference. I have seen it once, and I will not let it happen here as well,"

Fria opened her eyes and glanced up at him, "and what of you? Where will you be?"

"Anywhere needed. I am not dignified only by my capabilities as a warrior, I know how to work the political stage as well as any battlefield. However, I can not do it alone, not when billions of lives are effected,"

He stared down at her as the situation he manufactured weighed down on her.

In the open, arguing over the lives of an entire Kingdom if she didn't aid in his plan. She'd realise eventually what he'd done, but by then there wouldn't be much she could do about it, if at all.

She says 'no' here and now, all the people watching would ruin her reputation and career, and he knew she wouldn't say 'yes' to stroke an ego.

"For the Kingdom, I can put my health aside," she stared up at him with irritation in her eyes. So maybe she did figure out what he was doing.

But that didn't stop the tiniest of upturns to his lip under his helmet, "very well, let us get started."

One down, only Sleete to go.

---

She'd seen large doors and halls before. Ones in Manufactorums and Churches, Hives and Imperial Starships. Each one held its own air around them; of steel, blood, and faith; each more than the other depending on the context.

Yet the large doors that lined the hall were as tall as Sanguinius at minimum.

Dust floated through the air and gathered in corners long forgotten by even the Legio Custodes.

Numbers marked their owners, etched in worn gold and brass, stylised for each individual and their tastes.

But the one they came to a stop at, the door covered in wolves and runes of Fenris was as subtle as the Space Wolves themselves-

"Father like Sons," Sanguinius chuckled softly, his voice filled with a mix of mirth and regret, "It makes me wonder how much he would have despised his death. Knowing him, he'd wish for revenge,"

Celestine nodded despite not sure how to respond, "I would be the same,"

"Not like Leman," Sanguinius shook his head. The Great Angel gently opened the door and broke the seal of dust around the large door, "his role was as the Emperor's Executioner, and he carried it out well,"

Sanguinius spoke as he stepped into his brother's quarters, "it is perplexing that Lorgar is the one to have ended his life,"

"Perhaps it is an omen of what is to come?" Celestine offered quietly.

"Leman was the one to burn Prospero, fight Magnus and win…" Sanguinius looked over the many items from Fenris that littered his brother's quarters, "and yet Lorgar was the one to defeat him, to call it an 'omen' is an understatement, Celestine,"

She took in the sprawling mess of giant jugs and ancient scrolls, weapons and Fenrisian artefacts. The bed was fit for one of such as a Primarch in size, as was all other furniture and stationery.

"This galaxy is teetering on the edge," Sanguinius laid the paldron and sword down upon the bed reverently, "Father's demise was only the beginning of what the Imperium would become…"

She bit her bottom lip, "you speak of what we hold dear as if it was an affront, that we have not kept humanity alive for all this time,"

"Alive, but not living," Sanguinius corrected softly and faced her, "there is nothing reminiscent of what Humanity once was, even before my time. Merely echoes of the past and screams of a dying future. We were His sons, his tools to guide Humanity to the point of self-sufficiency and prosperity. Would you call this either of those?" he gestured around himself, at the wider Imperium than what was contained in the room,

"Father, the man who had Monarchia burned to the ground, nearly destroyed the seventeenth legion over worshipping him as a God-"

Sanguinius cut himself off with a sigh, "Compared to what the Imperium once was, yes, this is a hell of our own creation,"

Celestine bit her lip as hard as she could. The things the Primarch was saying were blasphemous to the extreme, Heretical, and should earn him the fate of all those deemed as such before him. Yet the man was His son; how could one punish something such as himself?

"I can't…" Celestine muttered to herself,

"What was that?"

She knew he had heard her. Her hair stood up as she gulped, "He is deserving of such reverence, is he not?"

"Reverence, yes." Sanguinius paced out of the room with Celestine close behind, "worship? That is something He loathed, forced away in every sense He could. Monarchia was one such worship he did not tolerate in any way- a city dedicated to His supposed divinity, erected by the Word Bearers and demolished by the sons of Ultramar. If He could see what had become of His dream now, He would wish it burned away as Monarchia did,"

Her brows furrowed as Sanguinius reached over her and pulled the door shut, "my faith is absolute. Such things will not deter me from the fated paths,"

"I figured as such," Sanguinius conceded, "for better or worse, you are one of the many faces of the Ecclesiarchy,"

"Of the Ecclesiarchy, I do not wish to be," Celestine stated, the irritation of having her faith scrutinised even by a Primarch, laced her tone, "of His will and servitude, that I will accept with all my being,"

Sanguinius stared down at her, his face blank, yet his eyes glistened with an emotion she couldn't decipher. Perhaps it was a combination of different ones, perhaps not. All she knew was that the Great Angel kept his thoughts guarded and unspoken where many others would have not.

She knew there was more to his thoughts, more that he didn't dare speak. He could, that much she was certain of. He could say whatever he wanted, and she would have to listen to every word of it, no matter how much she hated what was being said.

"When exactly did the Sororitas form?" he asked with a small gesture of his hand, "it is a topic I have yet to delve into,"

Celestine swallowed the sourness of her faith being questioned and sighed through her nose, "Millennia thirty-five. Goge Vandire took the reins as the Master of the Administratum and Ecclesiarch- the Age of Apostasy it was called." the bitterness now directed itself towards the man who created the Militant arms of the Ecclesiarchy,

"The 'Daughters of the Emperor', the convent that started our order," Her voice shifted from bitter to what all Sororitas were known for; righteous anger, "he deceived them into following him into his descent of madness. His reign became known as the Reign of Blood, his decisions tore the Imperium apart and nearly split it in two; those who followed him out of fear and greed and those who sided with Sebastian Thor and the Astartes."

Sanguinius crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow, "I gather Vandire's reign ended?"

"Only once the fighting reached Holy Terra itself and neared the Palace," Celestine nodded, "The Custodes enlightened our holiest of Saints, Alicia Dominica, and her Brides to the true madness Vandire was causing. With a swing of Saint Alicia's sword, Vandire's rule came to an end."

Her tone lightened significantly, "with his end, the Adepta Sororitas was born with the Ordo Hereticus soon after to ensure that such people gain no power like Vandire once did. Then the Convocation of Nephilim cemented our relations,"

"I have only seen reference to him in records with nothing solid to go off,"

"The only remnants of Vandire left is his name and the Armour we wear. Repurposed and cleansed of his vile rule," Celestine stated with a minor snarl at the reference to Vandire, "much of his rule has been erased, to be forgotten to the sands of time with only his abominations of statues too large to be destroyed left to serve as a reminder,"

With a small hum, Sanguinius started to make down the hall in a slow pace, taking the conversation and Saint with him past the doors of his brothers,

"It would have better served to keep a detailed recount of it all. Teach those who will come after us and guide them away from his path, not to let it be forgotten and repeated due to ignorance,"

"It is better to not know of such heresies than to be burdened by their knowledge," Celestine placed a calming hand on the Ardent Blade's hilt,

"Walking the line, remember?" Sanguinius glanced at the Custodian standing in an alcove as they passed, "what good are we if we can not balance the light against our darkness?"

The only true light is His on the Throne, Celestine thought to herself, "the dark is contaminated,"

"With what exactly?" Sanguinius asked,

"Doubt breeds insecurity, insecurity opens the mind's gates to be influenced, perverted and twisted,"

"By Chaos or the insecurities? Both are possibilities, both require different disciplines to deal with," Sanguinius countered, "however, mastering yourself, knowing your weaknesses and strengths will prevent both from twisting their way in,"

"And that is still weaker than our faith," Celestine argued, "it makes the bedrock to maintaining ourselves and keeps all protected under-"

She cut herself off, knowing the Great Angel wouldn't appreciate his father's worship after his attempts to dissuade her,

Sanguinius sighed, "under His light, is what you were going to finish with, was it not?"

Her face heated slightly at being caught, but she wasn't ashamed of the praise He rightfully deserved, "I was,"

"I have yet to meet Father in His current state, yet to witness what has become of the Throne," Sanguinius continued to lead them through the Palace and around in what seemed to be random paths. "Last I saw of the throne was before I boarded the Vengeful Spirit…"

Celestine eyed him off wearily as he growled out the name of the Traitors flagship. "I- I have not once seen the sight. It is something I feel is above my person and position to witness,"

The two fell into a silence, not one of comfort nor hostility, as they walked the halls of the Palace.

Custodes, like always, were in sight at all times. No matter where she looked, one stood as still as the statues that held the gargantuan halls aloft. Now and then, when she glanced at the helmets of the Custodes, they would snap their gaze over to her silently and follow her every move. Sanguinius greeted those closest with a nod or verbally, yet he never got one in response.

She remembered a time when they were all but myth, even to the Sororitas. Something she fawned over when she wore the colours of Our Martyred Lady and marched to war with her Sisters, with the image of massive Astartes in golden power armour in her mind.

Even when rags and a chainsaw replaced her armour and Bolter, the image of the Saints and what she thought the Custodes looked like filled her head.

And here she was now, marching alongside a Primarch, lying witness to the Hetaeron Guard in all their glory. Not as the larger-than-life Astartes, no, she knew now they were so much more.

"Do you know roughly where this planet is located?"

Celestine looked up at Sanguinius with a small hum of thought, "no, only that it may be on this side of the Cicatrix Maledictum, otherwise, I could not traverse the Warp to Terra,"

The Primarch nodded as he took the information in, "Vulcan, his hammer is also a teleporter with pre-designated coordinates, perhaps something similar could allow for some form of supply chain to be established,"

"I am the supply chain," Celestine stated with a slight deadpan,

"Yes, but more important than to do such things yourself," Sanguinius countered, "there is one issue with the idea; without coordinates, we can not send anything,"

Celestine thought for a moment, "a transmitter?"

The Primarch tilted his head in acknowledgement of the idea, "How will it communicate? The distance may be too great for a stable connection,"

She conceded with a small shrug, "Through the will of the Emperor am I allowed to move freely, archaic technologies are limited,"

"Alright, then," Sanguinius faced her, humouring her train of thought, "is it a stretch of logic to assume that if Father is the one allowing your powers, that maybe He would grant the ability to take more than just two select bodyguards?"

Her brows furrowed, "I have tried, but other Sisters and Guardsmen do not translate,"

"Not regular men and women," he shook his head and placed a hand over his chest, "His sons, myself. Our nature is made from more Warp energy than even you, we are more metaphysical beings given flesh form to manifest in. Father willing or not, it stands to reason that we are capable of being taken with you,"

With a blink of thought, she nodded. Then froze, "will Lord Guilliman not be displeased at you leaving the Palace?"

"He will, but will you disobey an order to attempt the trip?" Sanguinius rose a brow in challenge at her,

Almost all of her being seemed to deflate at the catch-twenty-two she was in- no matter who she followed, one was bound to be displeased by her actions. Wasn't she normally the one who put people in difficult decisions?

"What if you are somehow injured?"

"Do you not have faith in Father?" he shot back with a smug undertone.

She wore internally at the checkmate.

"Perhaps you may be able to get to Baal?"

Celestine bit her lip, "that is on the other side of the Rift…"

"I am aware," Sanguinius sighed, "but the longer I delay, the less time there is for my world,"

She nodded slowly, "does the Palace have any type of teleportarium?"

Sanguinius hummed, "a few, however, they are designed to transfer people and cargo to ships in orbit if The Lion's Gate was compromised,"

"Is there any chance one can be used to get you closer to the Cicatrix?" Celestine wondered, "it will never cross over the rift, that much is certain, but getting you close is within the realm of potability,"

A small hum left Sanguinius, "if I had Vulkan's hammer, I may be able to pass through with it being Mastercrafted,"

Celestine flicked her gaze up at him, "I can always try to get a Terminator beacon to Baal, but for it to be picked up it would have to be modified and draw a great deal of power,"

He crossed his arms, "no signals nor ships are passing through it either…" Sanguinius thought over the possibilities for a moment. He shook his head and gestured to Celestine, "they are my sons and people, I have to at least try to deliver them from devastation,"

Celestine stared up at him in silence, then, with a straightened back, she turned to the nearest Custodian, "I need a Terminator beacon,"

---

A scant few Tech-Priest performed maintenance on Jetbikes and Dreadnoughts alike, all under the supervision of a good dozen or so Custodians. Chants of Binary bled her patience thin, and she could swear she felt warm liquid inside her ears. Yet she ignored it as best she could, trying to push the affront of the Tech-Priests aside, so she could serve the Primarch and Captain-General in front of her.

Valoris placed the Shield and sword back onto their racks, and he turned to the two, "You plan of doing what?"

Sanguinius stared down Valoris, "have Celestine attempt to get a beacon to Baal, have it's signal and power enhanced by the Priest of Mars there, then see if we can lock onto it from here,"

Valoris furrowed his brows, "not only is it the furthest from our reach, but on the other side of the Great Rift,"

"I am aware,"

"Then you know how impossible your task is," he berated the Primarch and gestured to Celestine, "and you risk the life of a warrior to do so?"

"His light shall guide me,"

Valoris gave her a black, yet judgmental look before he faced Sanguinius again, "you are going to do it anyway, are you not?"

Sanguinius nodded, "I have sat here for long enough while my brothers fight and my sons die,"

"Get to the teleportarium," he waved the Primarch off and took the beacon from another Custodian. He held it out to Celestine, "at least this way it will hold lower risk,"

Celestine took the device and held back a grunt when the Captain-General let it go, giving her the brunt of its weight. She supposed, for a device designed to help move Terminators, the thing was as heavy as it needed to be. Though there had to be a way to make the damn thing lighter…

"Go now, upon return, I shall hand you what you require,"

Celestine nodded and faced Sanguinius, "do you have faith?"

"In you, yes,"

She took a breath and vanished once more, engulfing the armoury with golden light that lingered in the air and cackled with unseen energy.

Valoris had seen her do this countless times over the past year, and as the energy lingered, a bitter taste stuck to his mouth. Centuries of honing his senses screamed at him that something was going to happen.

Whether it was good or bad, remained to be seen.

---

Councilman Sleete sighed as he continued to sign off on area projects and deny others. Resource restraints and building restrictions forced his hand on many of them, while the constant barrage from the sector offices pushed through other projects.

Road repairs, heating issues and many, many inspection forms from the overseeing bodies about Jacques' mines.

The man had more money than he ever should, yet it was a benefit to quite a few, especially himself.

Sleete typed up a letter of denial, stating such inspections were chosen to be done by interior organisations, and printed it out for his secretary to send out in the morning.

He felt his account grow a little heavier and his mood lighten.

"Cordovin?" he muttered as he picked up a new set of forms and hummed. Wasn't she in Argus?

Then again, the small city was Atlassian territory. With a quick skim of the four-page document that prefaced the other seven and a half. Most of which were regulations and subsections on what she could request under Military Procurement and Kingdom defence.

All in all, a long-winded way of asking for more supplies through the correct channels. He could applaud her for such adherence to the rules.

An all too familiar thump of steps echoed down the hall outside his office.

How could he forget the sight of the man? The self-proclaimed Custodian was a sight to behold, so much so that the few times he caught sight of Celestine and the man together, she showed him almost reverence when in his presence.

No wonder the man had an ego, with people worshipping the ground he walked on.

So what if he was larger? The man was nowhere during the Great War, never served the Kingdom during that dark time. But he boasted his so-called 'experience' in warfare all too often. Where were his medals and accolades for such things?

Sleete glanced proudly at the fame of Medals on his desk.

A knock at his door brought him out of his daydream, "come in,"

The door opened, and the Custodian squeezed himself through the door frame, scraping bits of wood and paint away in the process.

"Apologies, Councilman Sleete, but this is regarding the seat's available," Kotek spoke through his helmet, giving it a slight echo through the speakers,

Sleete placed the papers down with a sigh, "what about them? Elections are after the Vytal Festival-" he frowned slightly- "speaking of which, we shouldn't expect any incursions, should we?"

Kotek placed both his hands on his hips, "that is why I am here to speak to you now,"

"So speak, then," Sleete bit back his annoyance,

"Without Ironwood, this military has no leadership, a flaw within its structure." Kotek began and already, Sleete didn't like where it was going, "if it can be dismantled so easily, it is ineffective as a fighting force; a security risk,"

Sleete narrowed his eyes, "what do you want, Custodian?"

"I want nothing," the man stated and lent forward onto his desk, placing a fraction of his weight down making the wood creak painfully, "the Vytal Festival's security is my jurisdiction, the lack of leadership of the military poses a security threat as does the empty seats currently available,"

The councilman's eyes widened as the man all but stated what he was doing, "there's a process-"

"Emergency protocols are in place for such an event thanks to the intelligence sect and my position withing the Military. If there are any issues, refer all to Inquisitor Greyfax," Kotek stood up once more, "as of right now, not only is the Festival under risk, but the entire Kingdom, Sleete. I will defend it."

Sleete's mouth flopped open, "you can't do this!"

"I already have Serpia's vote, and in this situation your negative vote is nullified by Fria filling the holes left by circumstance," Kotek sighed visibly as Sleete deflated at the news.

He couldn't fault the Custodian, not on a logical standpoint at least.

Though that didn't stop an anger rise at the fact an outsider was gaining more popularity, more favour and support than he did in his years of politics rubbed him the wrong way.

---

Greyfax watched as Serpia addressed the cameras and the crowd in front of them. Soldiers acted as guards, blocking anyone from getting too close. Out of all the soldiers, these she knew would and could do their jobs, they followed them through Mountain Glenn and had some of the highest performance ratings in their divisions.

Ironwood had his 'Specialist' program for Hunters turned soldiers, but not a group for the outliers of the rank and file.

They would never be Kasrkin, but anything was better than nothing.

She felt Kotek's presence before she saw him in her peripheral vision. Even if she didn't, the people of this world, while still being more than odd, reacted with awe in his presence.

Serpia glanced back at him, and Kotek nodded.

"I am certain the last few months have made many weary, from Vale to the mines in the west," Serpia took a moment to let the silence settle in and for the people to shuffle nervously.

The first day of the news being broken over Ironwood's 'disappearance' was one of unrest; crime spiked as did Grimm incursions, but it settled when they were lied to. Told that Celestine was out following leads, tracking down the enemy and eliminating any threats along the way.

The only thing that would help the lie is if Celestine was actually out there, making an impression on the public with her physical appearance, not just her name being tossed around.

Greyfax knew the Saint would hate being made the face of what was happening, but as the Custodian said; she'd have to get over it.

"And those events would have been far, far more costly if it was not for the brave individuals of our military, Saint Celestine and Custodian Kotek."

Greyfax glanced to her right and glared down Sleete. Now of all times was the perfect one to ruin anything they planned. As far as Serpia was aware, Sleete was already convinced to allow the resolution to pass. If the man showed any hesitance, spoke the wrong words, there'd be nothing they could do about it.

The risks of brute forcing power into their hands, she supposed.

"That is why it is an honour, that with circumstances unsteady, Kotek has agreed to our request to take an emergency seat on the Council until this time has passed,"

As Serpia stepped aside, allowing Kotek to take the podium, a whiff of smoke caught her senses. Her eyes scanned the crowed, one by one, and made eye contact with a few. Those who did, shudder as the surrounding air chilled at the Inquisitor's behest. Their thoughts reflected their actions, considering her rude or wondering why the temperature changed so suddenly.

A couple of them were smart enough to figure out it was her doing, just not what, why or how she was doing it.

All bar one. "Well, isn't this awkward, Inquisitor,"

She narrowed her eyes, "I see you got impatient, Marcus,"

The man smirked, and he took a step back, flicking the cigarette to the ground, "Oh, where's your sense of adventure? Lost with the red-head?"

Greyfax paid him no answer, instead she turned and marched past Sleete and down the steps. She took her rapier in her one hand and her Bolter in her other.

"Ah, there it is. See, that's the spirit from the Glass Unicorn,"

He knew about that? It wasn't exactly a secret, but it was a bit disconcerting. Perhaps the owner wasn't as honest as she claimed to be. She pushed though the crowd towards him, but the man backed up further.

"The girl was rather desperate to get there, asked me and everything,"

"You've always been in Atlas, haven't you?" Greyfax sped up to get to him, but Marcus simply turned and ran,

"Have I?"

She nearly reached a jog through the crowd until she got past them, then she took off in a sprint after the man, only for him to fade away the same way he did in her office. She slowed to a halt and took a calming breath.

Her finger tapped the comm-bead before she knew it, "Marcus was just in the crowd. Attempted to pursue, he escaped."

Kotek's speech paused for a split second, "understood." It was spoken so fast, that she was sure he merely took half a breath before he continued his address.

"Are you alright?"

Greyfax turned and rose her brow, "Belladonna."

Ghira gave her a small smile. An attempt to be polite, "you took off in a run, I was concerned for a moment,"

"Concerned about what, exactly?" she asked and started to probe his mind.

He flicked his eyes over her shoulder, towards where Marcus ran. His thoughts reflected seeing the man, but nothing deeper than a vague image of a man running, not a name or clearer image. Given the context of his surface-level thoughts, he only witnessed a brief moment and didn't know who Marcus was,

"If you're running, then all of us civilians should as well," he chuckled slightly, "I also wanted to thank the Custodian personally as well,"

Right, the mines.

"I gather your wife and Daughter are alright?" mundane conversation wasn't something she was fond of, especially with a mutant. Though, Kotek had an image he wanted them to all uphold for the time being, so she had to do the bare minimum to meet it.

He nodded, "shaken, but alright. Thankfully Blake barely saw the worst of it, only Kali did,"

Greyfax shrugged with indifference to the answer, much to his visible offence. She grumbled internally and put a false act of empathy, "forgive me, but such sights are commonplace for me,"

Ghira sighed, "that it is, I suppose, for your profession," he cleared his throat and straightened, "say, is the Saint around as well?"

"No idea, she's probably on the frontier looking for James," she lied with a simple shrug, "she should be back soon enough with good news, if luck is on our side,"

Ghira chuckled, "With the Saint as of late, I am certain luck will be on his side,"

Greyfax turned back to where she last saw Marcus and sighed. If only luck was on hers.

---

"Up." the door to the cage was swung open harshly, and it slammed into the wall, chipping it a little. The Wych smacked the flat side of her blade into the bars of the cage, "Move, Mon'keigh,"

The twins took a breath each and crawled out first, avoiding the spikes as best they could, and got to their feet. Their joints cracked as they stretched and glared at the Kabalites and Wyches that now filled the room.

Clearly, they were a security risk if this many were needed to make sure they were held in one spot.

"You as well, male," the Wych ordered him.

Ironwood gulped and tried to avoid the spikes, and relied on the metal half of his body and Aura to take the brunt of the damage. The moment he got to his feet, he was shoved against the cage and pinned against it by the Wych, who cackled as he fought against her.

It was made mute as his arms were pulled out to either side by another few Wyches, while another decided to use him as a plaything for her desires. He still fought against them, as best as he could, but without the momentum or nourishment to properly fight back, there was little he could do.

And definitely, nothing, as an amalgamation of limbs strode towards him from his left. The Haemonculi passed in front of him without a glance at Ironwood or the two Wyches that used him as they pleased.

With one of the limbs of pure muscle that came from behind the Haemonculi, he pinned his prosthetic arm out and used another two to usher the Wych away. Once she moved away, running a blade across his chest and leaving a trail of blood in its wake, the Haemonculi produced a hand.

Not a metal one, but a full flesh and blood hand that looked almost exactly the same as what his removed one looked like before the Grimm took it. Veins and string-like nerves dangled from the base

Bits of metal were stripped off the prosthetic by the other arms, and he felt his body shiver with fear as another set of arms stretched over the Haemonculi, the ends carrying types of surgical tools and needles.

His breath quickened as they drew closer to where metal met flesh, and grunted as the blade pierced his skin.

The Haemonculi spoke a single word and the Wych that held the flesh side of his body down was replaced by… between the pain of the blade going deeper and lack of food, the thing was a blur like his surroundings were, but it was nothing other than muscle and twice his size.

Its hand pressed his shoulder back into the cage with such force that it felt close to popping out of its joint.

Then the needle pierced his skin and injected whatever was in it, igniting his veins and caused him to unwillingly convulse.

He'd felt his body being torn apart before and as the blade continued to work as more and more injections continued, hazing his mind, he knew that it was happening again. He felt the sudden jolts and bursts of unfathomable agony that accompanied his ribs being pulled apart, and the dizziness of blood loss made him pass out for brief flashes of time.

Needle injections jolted him back from the drowsiness enough for him to make his throat raw with screams until oxygen ran out, and he passed out again.

The cycle continued for who knew how long. Awake and filled with pain, then a brief respite of being nearly dead only to be taunted back to life by the Haemonculi.

He passed out one final time and awoke to bile and other fluids rising out of his mouth. Rolling over, he let it spill out with a series of gags that hurt just as much as his new hand did.

New hand. Flesh grafted to metal that was grafted to flesh.

The thought made him gag more as the new flesh hand burned with agony.

"Up," he was pulled by his hair to his feet, though he nearly fell straight down, but caught himself just before he fell.

He glanced around the room slowly as he wiped his mouth with his hand.

The living lamp was tossed aside to make room for a Wych to sit on the table while another licked up a powdered substance from her thigh, all while she was injecting herself with a barbed needle.

He wasn't given time to ponder the debauchery or the absence of the Haemonculi as he was shoved forward and out the door.

The ground was jagged and uneven, cutting into the soles of his feet and made it hard in general to walk, but at this point, he was past trying to understand these things that called themselves Drukhari.

He only wanted to leave.

"You and the twin humans will clean and prepare." the Wych told him as she forced him to speed up, uncaring or enjoying the pain it inflicted.

Ironwood swallowed down the foul-tasting bile, "prepare for what?"

"A show."

A… show. They were making them watch a show? As bad as it didn't sound at first thought, the more he pondered on it, the more his imagination went wild with what these people found entertaining enough to call a show. Cold dread slowly seeped in as he realised that Emerald was either alone or stuck with Lelith.

If this was what Lelith's people would be like, Emerald, as spunky as she was for her age, wouldn't be alive for much longer.

He had to leave, find her, and get out of this hell. Maybe kill Hesperax if he got the chance. There was no way in hell that she wasn't behind all this.

The halls of obsidian material suddenly shook as roars of cheers burst to life and a muffled amplified voice spoke of the show beginning, starting with an induction fight for new Wyches.

Lelith liked to fight… of course, their show would be a sadistic Vytal Festival.

"Fifteen minutes. Be ready, or I will arrange for worse punishments than before," the Wych warned as she shoved him through a doorway into a steam-filled room.

He turned back to have the door slam in his face.

Ironwood gripped his new hand by the wrist despite the burning pain it caused, and turned into the room.

"We have died dozens of times in here," one of the twins' voices called, and he turned to face her, "death is no escape here, only a brief respite,"

He chuckled darkly, "so suicide isn't a way out?"

The other twin passed him and sat next to her sister, "no. In fact, they leave tools for suicide well within reach just to temp the slave to it and let them commit it, only to bring them back with a grin."

Ironwood let out a shuddering breath and gasped down his rising anxiety attack. The woman spoke with a tone of first-hand experience, "I- I'm never leaving, am I?"

"He will provide for the faithful," they spoke in unison,

He hated it. Faith, that was all they claimed would save them, not proaction or force of will to survive.

While one of the twins got to her feet and moved to an isolated shower, the one he'd come to know as Eleanor guided him to his own. "Come, prayer is clearly not something you are accustomed to, so just breathe. Breathe and clear your mind."

The woman smiled at him, though it shook a little, "If you will not have faith, then I will for the three of us, General,"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Why shouldn't I? As of right now, we are all we have," Eleanor sighed forlornly and glanced away, "we, my sister and I, have been here for years… Genevieve, she's detached from anything but her duty to our faith and Saint. I… knowing Celestine is still out there, that she is waiting for us, it gives us hope,"

Ironwood shook his head as he pulled a chain and the shower head above groaned under the strain of disuse, "but why are you with me now?"

The woman's hands slipped off his shoulder, and she sighed, "company. I do not expect to leave alive, or leave at all, James. He watches over us," her voice dropped to a whisper that he could barely hear over the shower, "but we have found his blind spot,"

Eleanor fell silent as she moved to the next shower, leaving him alone with only the sounds of the crowed cheering above, and the screams of the unfortunate ones to become a bored Wych's plaything.

---

Emerald sighed and blinked under the mess of silky blankets and sheets that she hid under, the kitten curled up against her side.

It was a short respite away from the harsh green light of Commorragh. She just wanted to go home, be safe in her own bed or sit and talk with Ilia.

Not this horrid, blood-soaked hell.

"If those sheets were any thicker, you would have given yourself Carbon-dioxide poisoning,"

Her brows furrowed, and she ran her and through the kitten's fur. It was so mangy, rough. The poor thing sculled down any food it was given and jumped at the slightest of sounds.

"That was a subtle request for you to leave my bed,"

Emerald gulped, slowly pulled herself out from under the sheets. Like it always was, the room was lit by the maleficent green glow from the realms suns and the blue flames of Lelith's fireplace.

The woman in question stood at the end of the bed, one hand on her hip and the other holding a weapon of some type. Naturally, the woman believed clothes were optional. But instead of the regular embarrassment or distaste at the lack of dress, Emerald found nothing.

She couldn't be bothered to get annoyed at her, or even be embarrassed over it.

A small sigh left Emerald, and she glanced at the weapon, "what's that?"

"A Razorflail," Lelith pulled the sheets off and startled the kitten awake. The woman ignored it, "your Razorflail, now."

Emerald wrapped her arms around her chest and jolted as a vehicle sped past the open windows. She turned back to Lelith and titled her head, "why?"

"The Chain flail does not suit your training," Lelith placed the Razorflail on the bed, hilt facing Emerald, "it is exclusively ranged and takes more time and skill to learn to wield effectively, whereas this," she gestured to the weapon, "can be used as a sword or a whip,"

It certainly looked dangerous with the segmented blades that glinted under the light. If she tilted her head different ways, the blades reflected different colours under the metal, giving it a beautiful, if deadly appearance.

"Wyches who specialise in its use are 'Lacerai'," Lelith gave her a worn smirk, "I owned one once,"

Emerald stopped playing with the reflections and glanced up at Lelith, "once?"

"It is no longer mine," Lelith gave her a small smirk, "I am not going to hand over a random Razorflail of dubious quality, no, If you are to take anything from Commorragh, it will be the best I can get. If you were not still so young, some of my old armour would be yours,"

Lelith's smirk grew slightly, "you might be able to make a full set of armour if you look well enough through my collection,"

A tiny, nerve-ridden chuckle left Emerald, "are you sure you know what 'armour' is?"

"Perhaps," the smirk became a smile. Not the ones the other Wyches wore, instead it was a warm one, "I still need to learn what 'pants' are, apparently,"

"I mean," Emerald chuckled at the joke and gestured to her, "I didn't need to know the colour's the same,"

Lelith rolled her eyes and flexed her shoulders, "good thing I will be getting ready soon,"

Another skiff sped past the window, followed closely by another three. In the distance, weaving through the spires of Commorragh, more and more skiffs made their way towards the arena in the hundreds. Scourges and Hellions harassed each other and anything they came across; friend or foe.

Emerald watched as they fought amongst themselves, some of it in clear jest, while a few were blatant attempts at murder. Nothing says 'subtle' like shooting out the thrusters on the board a Hellion used.

She turned back to Lelith and found her already mostly dressed in her regular attire, only this time it was shined to perfection. The black leather simultaneously absorbed all light, accentuating the pale skin left on show, the blades across her armour glinted a blue-silver where the rest was a green so dark it nearly looked black.

"The animal stays here, you will stay by my side at all times," Lelith began tying her hair up into the massive ponytail she was known for, "when I enter the ring, two Wyches will stay with you-"

She must have seen the horror across her face as the woman sighed, "do not worry, they will know what I will do to them if they lay a finger on you." Lelith stared her in the eyes, "I will make it so your experience with the Kabalite is nothing in comparison for them,"

She understood why Lelith was so feared, why she could do anything she wanted and no one bat an eye or rose a finger to challenge her.

Not if she was so willing to do that as punishment at best, death at worst… maybe death wasn't the worst thing to fear anymore, not with these people. 'Never let them take you alive' suddenly made more sense than she'd like over the past few days.

Lelith placed three smaller blades through the shaft of her ponytail, then wrap it in brown leather to hold it in place.

"You didn't have that before," Emerald tilted her head,

Lelith nodded, "not after Mountain Glenn… I still am not sure how I ended up there," the woman hummed, "but yes, you have not seen my hair like this before. Those blades are a final resort in case I am pushed into a metaphorical corner; my last resort."

Emerald shrugged, not particularly caring about what they were other than a distraction from Commorragh, "You really do like your knives,"

"They are simple yet effective," Lelith took her blades and twirled them in her hands as she spoke, "mine are a gift from Asdrubael himself; a pair of blades from the War In Heaven, designed to cut through Necrodermis and sever it permanently, rendering the 'self-healing' property useless,"

"War in heaven?" Emerald blinked slowly, ignoring that small fact, "so… it can cut through anything?"

A small, defeated sigh left Lelith, "an oversimplification and a slight overestimation, but yes, they can cut through nearly anything if given enough force,"

A low rumble slowly began to shake the building, cutting both off from their conversation, and the windows were suddenly blocked by a wall of blood-red metal as it drifted past. Lelith moved to the window and stared boredly at the gigantic machine and reached out. Her fingertips brushed against the cold metal.

Tentatively, Emerald slid out of the bed and came to Lelith's side, leaving the kitten behind.

Whoever was piloting the ship either didn't know how close they were, or they did and simply didn't care. For Emerald, she believed the latter.

"And they will never know I touched their ship," Lelith muttered. She sighed and took a step back, letting her arm drop to her side, "come. I wish to leave this place before I am dragged out into a raid,"

---

The scale of the arena was only enhanced by the hundreds of thousands of people all across the stands, cheering for the blood that was spilt by the performing Wyches. Every so often, a Kabalite or a Wych from the other Cults across Commorragh would vault into the ring, daring the women of the Cult of Strife to a fight.

And like their Succubus, they obliged immediately, no matter what they were doing- what they were previously fighting; be it a beast of the Tyranids or the green monsters called an Ork, the Wyches happily duelled to the death.

Without fail, the Cult of Strife Wyches would always come out on top, with their chests puffed with prideful arrogance. Yet all Lelith did was watch her little sycophants play in the sandpit with disinterest. They were younger by quite a few millennia, immature by comparison to the other Drukhari, yet they were the most skilled of all the vat-grown abominations that made the majority of the populace.

Only the role of a Hekatrix was allowed to be Truborn, the purest of all their kind.

Most of the other Cults had no such restrictions, and that was another thing to the list that separated her from the rest of the squabble of the Dark City.

Perfection in mind, body and soul.

Scourges swooped in through the maw above, picking at the weakest of the crowds or choosing to enhance the pandemonium of the stands by duelling Kabalites and Wyches wherever they found them.

And still, all eyes were on her, the beauty of the arena, even though she was still seated in her own stand above them all.

Lelith glanced to her left. Emerald sat shrunken into herself, fear rolled off her in waves, making the Wyches around her fidget, resisting the urge to satiate their thirst. The threat of the Wych Queen herself kept them in line, as it always did and always will. Her mark on this city was, by and large, undeniable.

"Do you not have a stage to grace?"

She swore internally, but kept her face in one of mild surprise as she turned back, "Of course, Asdrubael."

The Overlord grinned, "may I?" he gestured to the seat Emerald was in.

She stood and gestured to her own, "I believe such a thing would break the girl, that is something I wish to do myself,"

"Then I pity the creature," He strode forward and took Lelith's seat, "you are cruel, that much I know for certain,"

Lelith smiled thinly back at him, mildly surprised that he was here after denying his presence days prior, "I am aware, but remember, so are you, Asdrubael; you are here after all,"

Asdrubael Vect nodded in agreement and hummed, "business and pleasure, why can they not be one and the same?"

"Do not quote myself," she rolled her eyes and she faced Emerald. The girl stared up at her in fear, a normality for the girl over the past few days. If anything, any other reaction would have concerned her- and that was a can of worms she hoped stayed dead and buried.

"Obey, and you will survive." Lelith told her sternly in the girl's tongue, "you will see more of me soon enough,"

Emerald blinked and nodded cautiously, then watched as Lelith disappeared to prepare for her coming show.

"The Wych Queen herself, hm?"

Emerald jolted and faced the Overlord. Her voice choked on itself, failing to create the response she wanted, so instead, she nodded again.

Asdrubael held his hand out to the side and one of his many slaves placed a perfect glass in his hand. Red liquid filled it halfway and glinted beautifully under the wide array of lights across the arena.

He nodded in her direction, and the same slave held out another glass for her to take.

Emerald stared at it for a few moments, then flicked her gaze to the Overlord. He tilted his head minimally, "it is safe, I would not poison a slave as close to Hesperax as you. It would ruin her fun." he sipped his wine as she took the glass held out for her, "I must say, for one such as yourself, you are in remarkable condition. Lady Hesperax is usually not so… kind as she is to you."

His eyes bore into her own, absorbing all light around them, and she gulped under the sudden pressure, "why is that, exactly?"

"Uh…" she flexed her hands to try to banish the nerves, "I-I don't know… she's strange,"

"in what way? I am curious if your definition of strange and my own are the same,"

"She just is," Emerald respond softly, careful to not gain his ire, "isn't she always like that?"

Asdrubael hummed, "too complicated a question, it seems." he sipped his wine once more, "not to worry, your Mon'keigh mind shall rest for now,"

As the words left his lips, the crowds cheered when the final Wych bowed over a corpse. The woman held her hands up to gather more praise of her feats over the green beasts that lay in ruins around her. Though, it all froze for a moment as the main doors slid open, and a choir chanted proudly as to avert their master's whip.

The Wych's already pale and grey skin paled further as she turned to face the Queen herself.

In a blur of motion, the Wych's body fell in quarters to Lelith's blades.

Only one was the ruler of the arenas, something Hesperax reminded them all as the gates opened and a tide of creatures and people of all sizes rushed out.

Hardened shells of multi-legged creatures repelled many assaults, allowing their sharpened talons to spill blood. More green beasts bellowed their cries for all to hear as they swung wildly at anything in reach, even each other.

Metal skeletons blasted green energy out at all, obliterating all organic targets, whether they were in the arena or not, while the many myriads of beings fought as hard as they could against everything in their path.

Some formed groups to try to survive, mainly the blue humanoids and what Emerald knew to be Imperial Guard.

One such group was of a strange mix; bone armour and flowing, blood-red hair, two sets of golden armour and a couple of Imperial Guard; yet it was the final one that drew her breath out and made Vect raise a brow at her.

Ironwood fought with a ruined coat and dishevelled appearance, but he fought all the same. A green-skinned behemoth entered melee with him despite holding a large gun of some kind, only for his compatriot in bone armour to tear it apart with her blade.

And yet one of the other, more alien and horrifying creatures took its place. Red skin and blue carapace contrasted against the dull sand floor and dark walls.

The Tyranid moved with speed, but the General was faster. He swooped in under a swipe of its massive claws with a roll and took the Orks weapon as his own. He rolled to his feet and sprayed the unwieldy weapon into the hide of the creature for a mere moment, then the chaos of the arena caught up.

With a trail of red hair, Lelith beheaded the beast in a somersault over it, simultaneously carving the symbol of the Cult of Strife into his hide. She rejoined the mayhem as effortlessly as she came, leaving Ironwood to duck and weave under a swing of a Kabalites sword.

Even from all the way up in Lelith's stand, Emerald saw the momentary fear on his features settle into a burning rage.

---

Even with the helmet, he could feel the glee flow off the Kabalite.

It was interrupted by yet another of the green creatures charging the Kabalite from the side. Something that was avoided rather easily, but distracting enough for Ironwood to swing out with his metal fist.

Though it hit the rear of his helmet and burned with immense pain-

A flesh fist. His fist wasn't metal anymore.

The Kabalite spun around and swiped its bladed gauntlet across his chest, glancing off his Aura and allowed him to catch the arm in one hand and tear the helmet off with the other.

The Kabalite shoved him away with his foot and rose his large, bulbous weapon to bear. The sound of shattering crystals sounded as the weapon fired, and the projectile made a literal scream as it flew just over his head.

The ground trembled as the green beast fell and slid to a halt just beside him, face down in the blood soaked dirt.

Ironwood quickly returned his attention to the Kabalite and his breath caught slightly in his throat. Even with all the surrounding chaos, the Kabalite somehow, despite standing completely still, stood out against the large creatures of all shapes and limb count.

His eyes were like back voids, so similar to Lelith's but so different with the venomous hatred aimed towards him.

His finger pulled the trigger on the weapon. No shot left the barrel, only clicking and the grinding of mechanics. Jammed or out of ammunition.

Ironwood glanced at the green monster's corpse and noted a large blade in one of its hands. Winning against one of these things wasn't possible without a weapon, so, as fast as he could manage, he bolted towards the body and made to dive for the weapon before the Kabalite-

An armoured foot met his stomach and sent him rolling to the ground, but not before his reflexes let him get a hold of the Kabalites foot and pulled it over.

His Aura took the brunt of the force and allowed him to get to his feet faster than the Kabalite could, but not by much as he charged at it and slammed his metal foot across the Kabalites face.

Air brushed past him suddenly, and the Kabalite barked an order out. In a bur of movement, a Wych danced around him again in a teasing manner. She flaunted her tattooed body and heavily exposed skin before she dashed back into a fight with a large, humanoid beast with an Aquila over his forehead.

The thing moaned, regaining his attention at the strike and grinned wickedly up at him, "faster than I imagined, Mon'keigh,"

Ironwood backed up at seeing a reaction from the man and gave the best taunting smile he could, "says a lot that a simple monkey hit you,"

The Kabalite licked the blood away from his lips with a wide grin as he took a large blade into his hand from his belt- a belt that held a holstered pistol, "oh, the pleasure you will give me…"

Ironwood didn't let the Drukhari finish, and charged him and let his Aura boost his movements. The speed it gave him was still no match for a Kabalite, but it made dodging and deflecting the attacks that much easier- and frustrating for the Kabalite.

It was obvious in how the look of glee turned to annoyance as no single strike downed him, either deflected by his Aura or minimised by it.

Ironwood peddled back slowly, deflecting the blade and keeping the Drukhari in front of him, even if that meant running for a brief moment or sacrificing a strike or two. Managing a single Drukhari was easier than an entire group of them, especially now that he knew what the hell he was up against.

The Kabalite surged forward, seemingly done with the game he was forced to play, and swung out with a wide and fast strike that cut Ironwood across his chest, cutting flesh and metal alike.

Ironwood took the closeness as an advantage and sprung his left-hand forward, he gripped onto the belt around the Kabalites waist, but more importantly, pulled the pistol out of its holster. He quickly fired blindly at the Kabalite.

The thing dodged it, barley, and spun back to him with a snarl before he weaved in towards the General.

The Kabalite closed the distance in a flash of speed, and Ironwood tried to simply side step the attack. Instead, the killing blow dug into his flesh arm and pulled him down, but Ironwood made sure to drag the Kabalite down with him.

He was glad he did so, as the wide, shocked eyes on the thing gave a sense of accomplishment for his attempt, but not for long as the Kabalite tore the blade out of his biceps.

The move wouldn't go unpunished, as Ironwood slammed his forehead into the bridge of the Kabalites nose, snapping it.

The Kabalite brought the blade down, but it was intercepted by Ironwoods left hand and sent a sharp pain from the wound over his body. It was far better than being dead, though.

He tried to swing the pistol up to fire and found his arm pinned against the ground. Though the Kabalite had to expend more energy keeping his metal arm down than his flesh one, but the blade grew closer and closer to his body as his arm weakened.

With a roar of defiance, Ironwood headbutted the being again, and again and again. If it weren't for his lowering Aura, he would have felt as dizzy and disoriented as the Kabalite looked after the assault.

Yet that was good, it was what he needed to get the Kabalite off the top of him. He shoved all his weight up and to the side as he pushed with his metal-and-flesh-interwined arm. He rolled on top of the Kabalite as he ripped his metal arm out of the Kabalites grip.

The Kabalite went to swipe the pistol away and move his blade, but Ironwood put all his weight on top of his arm, pinning it down completely.

The first shot blew through the Kabalite's vambrace, flopping the arm down to the dirty floor.

As he squeezed the trigger on the bulbous pistol, an activation sound came from below. The pistol rang out like a shard of glass shattering, obliterating the Kabalites skull, and Ironwood frantically looked for the device that was activated.

He found it in the form of a peculiar shaped device in the Kabalites hand, flashing ominously as the humming grew in intensity.

Without second thought, he pried it from the corpse's hand and threw it as hard as he could in front of him before he got off the corpse; knife in his hand, and ran as fast as he could from the body.

Ironwood glanced back briefly to watch as the device detonated not in the arena, but up in the crowds of people. But not cries of terror were heard, instead the entire arena cheered louder than before at the display of wanton violence.

But not his corner of violence, no.

He felt his jaw drop as Hesperax weaved through a group of large, armoured men. Their armour elevated them to a similar size as Kotek, though still a tad shorter and bulkier, and denoted each as individuals.

Rusted and chipped white and blue armour, blood-red and green.

They moved with the ferocity of beings unwilling to be made an example of, in speeds that they should never reach due to their size.

But Lelith simply side stepped and taunted with long, drawn out moments of immovability. She refused to yield ground at random moments and danced across their heads on a whim; but not a single strike of hers was deflected, only redirected to another part of them.

No matter what they did, she still managed to chip away at their armour, dwindling them down bit by bit.

"WAAAGH!"

He startled and dodged to his side. The chaos continued despite his awe at the Wych Queen.

Perhaps threatening her was a bad choice after all… it looked as if even the shadows themselves swam away from her, avoiding the pain that would come their way.

He refocused on the beast trailing behind him, but found it in the mouth of a creature with solid carapace and blue flesh.

Ironwood turned and ran even faster, dodging between metal skeletons and more Imperial soldiers fighting for their lives. He rose the pistol and fired at a distracted Kabalite ahead of him, blowing its helmet and skull apart.

With a sweep of his other hand, Ironwood scooped up the second pistol and kept running.

Not once did he stay still. Always moving, enhanced by his Aura. A rhythm fell into place, of rushing from zone to zone while avoiding the Wyches and their Queen entirely, killing anything that got in his way.

Fire and manoeuvre. Keep moving, keep killing, give no respite.

With the pistols, whatever armour the Kabalites wore proved no obstacle once a few shots were handed out. Even the metal skeletons proved to be rather easy to deal with if distance was kept and the head was targeted.

Though they tended to rise again after a few moments and move rigidly from target to target.

The violent sound of Thrusters came from behind, forcing him to duck and roll to the side, just barely avoiding the pike the rider held as they stood atop the small platform. The woman atop of it set her gaze to one of the many beasts while her partner swooped in on the twins.

Though it was a mistake for both as the twins took to the skies, fighting off the Scourges and other Hellions.

While the woman's wingman was attempting to rid the twins of their heads, her targeted Ork was split in half by the blades that lined the wings of her board, though her next target made him wince with sympathy for her.

Right in her path, gloating all atop a pile of Astartes corpses, stood Lelith with her arms out to her side and head held high.

The woman simply challenged all to come at her, and grinned as the Hellion accepted the challenge.

The Hellion dived at the last second, trying to catch the Wych Queen off guard. Only Lelith bent under and grabbed onto a part of the underside. With the new momentum, Lelith threw herself over the back and around the large thruster.

Two swipes was all it took to end the rider's life; one at the chain holding onto her skin, and another just above the knees.

Lelith used her weight to manoeuvre it sharply to the left, down towards a group of Orks.

She lashed out and hooked her blade into the stomach of a Scourge. The sudden stop in momentum pulled her from the Skyboard as it dived into the Orks, bisecting them on impact. Lelith then slashed again with her free blade, separating a wing from the Scourge and brought it down with her.

Though on impact with the ground, the Scourge ceased to move or fight back, while Lelith rolled to her feet and continued in a blur of movement towards a new set of targets.

The twins remained on the other side, well away from him, protecting a pair of soldiers. A variation of a Wych in bone armour and helm fought her cousins with as much ferocity as she could, and a group of the metal Skeletons took to firing on anything in their path.

And the shadows continued to avoid Lelith as she barrelled through the group of metal beings, tearing them apart with her blades in a whirlwind of destruction. Though, she came to a sudden stop as the shadows swirled around her.

The crowd's collective breath froze, much like the surrounding air did. The mismatch of fighters in the rings stumbled away from the centre, leaving the Wych Queen just off the side of the growing mass of shadows, colour and macabre faces.

And even then, Lelith backed away steadily and not once turned away from the mass.

In moments, the mass shrunk and still managed to tower over everything in the arena as it gained humanoid form. Layers of baroque festive clothes gained tactility and ever-shifting colours. Tendrils of darkness maintained their form from under the being, and a mask belonging to theatre plays became its face. With darkened eyes and light, neon blue iris', the thing gazed out over the silent crowds.

The Wyches next to Emerald shook in their place, while Asdrubael stiffened considerably. Each and every Drukhari froze entirely as the thing's gaze fell upon them; not a breath was taken, nor a weapon drawn.

In the distance, a Kabalite turned and fled.

Another followed.

Then another.

The trickle turned into a flood as every being in the Crucibael ran as far and as fast as they could, even if they killed their own on their way out of the doors and triggered the traps set throughout.

Emerald gulped as she frantically searched around for danger, though her eyes fell on the Wych Queen once more. Even when chaos fell around her, the woman still managed to stand out and draw attention; even if she stood in awe of the being before her.

Bending at its waist, the thing leered over Lelith as it cackled sickeningly. Yet the Wych Queen remained still, only staring back passively.

She did say she would never fight a Harlequin, but it still amazed Emerald with how much control the woman had to not fight back. Then again, the being continued to cackle and bend over, though this time it started to swirl inward as it kept bending, twisting into a spiral of madness and colour. Laughter and song.

Death and performance.

Then it was gone.

Emerald felt her body gasp involuntarily for air as an unseen weight lifted, "what was that?"

She didn't realise she spoke aloud until her voice echoed back at her across the empty arena. Tyranids, Necrons and all manner of creatures lay slain across the floor, killed either by the Wyches or the being that left as suddenly as it came.

Emerald glanced to her side, only then realising who was seated beside her.

Gone. The Overlord was gone as well. Yet the two Wyches remained by her side, shaken but dutiful to the orders they were given.

"A sign to leave, that is what. Come." Lelith responded, her voice broadcasted across the arena by its perfect acoustics. She faced the General and the collection of his remaining, bizarre comrades; the familiar, yet different twins in golden armour.

Ironwood took a step back from the Wych Queen as she glanced at the corpse left by the woman, "I am not following you anywhere,"

"Then you wish to stay in Commorragh?" Lelith scoffed. She looked to the twins, "Sororitas,"

"Xeno," one of them spat,

Lelith waved them off with her blade, "yes, yes. Do you two, too, wish to stay here?"

"Of course not," the second spoke lowly, "four years is more than enough time in this hell,"

Emerald tentatively took her place next to Lelith, as did the two Wyches, "it's gone though… it can't take us anywhere,"

Lelith glanced down at her, "perceptive. You know it was not a Harlequin,"

Ironwood shared a look with the twins. His fists flexed anxiously, "there's more than just you lot?"

"You want out, a Harlequin is the best way. They know more of the Webway than any of us Drukhari," she looked out over the stands and remnants of the debauchery that was happening during her performance.

She turned back, "however, only one being is said to know every entrance and exit to the Webway- Ceggorach himself,"

Emerald bit her lip, "The god, right?" her eyes widened, and she gasped, "that was him, wasn't it?"

"It was." Lelith took a deep breath and turned to the two Wyches. She spoke in her sharp tongue.

As the Drukhari conversed, Emerald felt Ironwoods eyes on her. She glanced over, and he waved subtly for her to come over.

She tilted her head. Did he think she wasn't safe next to Lelith? To be fair to him, this entire place is all manner of nightmares made real, so it wasn't bad he wanted to her to be safe and away from the Wych Queen.

Unfortunately for him, though, Lelith was far safer than he was. The man was the Headmaster and General of Atlas, but he was nothing when compared to her. She kept her safe from everything she could, including Asdrubael.

She hated that she thought that, despite him going through worse than she did, he still tried to fight his way out and now continued to try to protect her.

But he couldn't protect himself against the things in this horrid place.

Sure, Lelith thrived here, but she kept it all at bay and while she didn't shelter her, she made sure it never got too close.

Emerald looked up at Lelith with her tired eyes. Irritated by all the chemicals in the air from all the strange and exotic drugs around, but she still had it in her to pay half a mind to the woman.

She was a bad person, there was no denying that. However, maybe, just maybe, she could actually trust her. The woman had every chance to do whatever she wanted, yet she didn't.

The two Wyches bowed and left. Lelith rose a brow at her, "do I have blood on me?"

Emerald's brows furrowed, and she looked her over. All that skin on show, and not a wound or drop of blood from the mayhem earlier, "no…"

"Good," Lelith nodded in satisfaction, "I do not care if it was. We are retrieving what few things we have, then we are leaving."

"Can I keep the… uh, Gryinx? Gronx?" Emerald shook her head, "cat. Can I keep it?"

Lelith shrugged, "I see no issue, it is only a Gyrinx after all," the Wych Queen gave Ironwood and the Twins a glance, "you may follow if you want to leave with us,"

"And we should trust you why?" twin two glared at her, "you are the leader of these foul creatures,"

"And Celestine would be happy if I brought you back with me," Lelith shot back boredly, "I know what and who you both are, your Saint would be pleased with your recovery,"

They both stared wildly at her in anger, the other twin sneered as she spoke, "again; why trust you?"

Lelith turned on her heel and started walking to the nearest exit, "very well, remain here. I am sure Celestine would be pleased that her blessed Geminae Superia are now living furniture because you did not listen to me,"

Emerald glanced between Lelith and the twins and Ironwood. She tried to expel her nerves through a sigh, but it came out more as a groan of irritation and followed after Lelith.

"Our Saint would never side with-" the twins called out to her,

"You all sided with Yvraine on Cadia, followed her to Mcragge's surface; you can side with me now," Lelith cut them off over her shoulder, "live or endure continuous torment, the choices are yours to make,"

A shadow passed overhead. Emerald looked up from the nearing exit to find Scourges swarming the opening above, like vultures to a corpse, waiting for the predator to leave the kills to feast on.

With what little she knew of how these creatures and this society worked, she wouldn't be particularly surprised if that was what was happening. It took no genius to figure out who was who in that scenario.

"Fuck it," Ironwood exclaimed, "I am not going to let you get back to Remnant alone," His footfalls rapidly approached, and he stayed a few steps behind.

With him now joining, brief bursts of thrusters were heard. The twins fell beside them gracefully, and they scooped up a pair of Imperial Guard as they went.

"Vile creature," the taller one muttered as she hoisted a male up and pulled his arm over her shoulder, "yet if this is our only way out of this Emperor damned hell…"

All Lelith did was chuckle under her breath.

---

To say he made a mistake, was an understatement.

Yet with that mistake came opportunities- ones that allowed him to learn just what the newcomers were like, what their main goals were, or an idea of what they might be currently.

With Ironwood 'missing', that left a door wide open for them to run rampant with until the man returned. Of course, the first thing that happened was the Custodian made himself a Council member and reduced the General's seat to just one.

To be expected, but not to be announced via a public announcement.

Ozpin sipped his cup as he rewatched the clip again.

Glynda and Qrow were on a chase with no end, a thing the man felt bad about sending them on, but if they knew what and where Ironwood was they would not be entirely pleased with him.

Trapped in a vault was not something he wished upon anyone, yet there was no way of getting him out without showing his hand in creating them; something he couldn't allow.

Already they were forcing him to make sacrifices. How could he get them to reduce their numbers? Conflict was not an option, too many had happened in the past hundred years for his liking, and that gave Salem an upper hand in the stalemate.

And yet, he had a feeling that it was coming to an end.

Not immediately, but things were progressing too quickly for it to be natural or basic human error.

With his age, he'd seen heated wars before, fought in them for many sides and ensured Humanity came out on top despite Salem's wishes… no matter the cost.

Standoffs and arms races were not too unfamiliar to him, yet those were with swords and shields, not guns and technology. Airships and warriors. Semblances were game-changing in the field of battle, yet he'd seen rudimentary explosives, barrels flung by trebuchets and catapults even out the battle.

Enough firepower ruled out many advantages, Grimm or Hunters alike would fall to sufficient weaponry.

Yet the problem rose when something took devastating amounts of weaponry to destroy; the collateral damage would rise with each shot, each charge of an infantry line. Entire villages would be destroyed in a blink of an eye; caught between two armies and the Grimm afterwards.

What would that mean if the opposing army had the Grimm on their side? Would that bolster their chances or wreak havoc on everyone?

He sighed and placed the cup down. Judging by Salem's mastery of the creatures and Merlot's tampering with the unknown, the result, either way, would be devastating.

The Custodian on the screen finished his speech again. Ozpin hit rewind.

These people, wherever they were from, Remnant or, as James and Qrow liked to believe, off-world entirely, were violent and unashamed of the fact.

If it could not be defeated by a fist or sword, artillery would suit their needs just fine. Prisoners were no issue to them, since they left none unless they required them for something. If they considered their enemy with such little regard, then collateral damage wouldn't even be considered.

Deep down, he knew they were on the warpath, looking for a fight even if there was none. For all the Custodian gave the appearance of a scholar and diplomat, all of them knew he was first and foremost a weapon of war.

As was Celestine and the others. They knew only combat as a means to an end.

That was what sent a shiver of fear down his spine; they were willing to fight no matter what, and ask questions after.

At the rate things were escalating, it would be no surprise if they willingly pit Kingdoms against each other.

Who would fire the first shots would be the question of the hour, every hour, every day.

His displeasing reverie was broken by a small, but distinct flash of golden light below his tower.

Ozpin spun his chair around and rose with a hum. Bellow, the paths of the academy were lit by lamps and the holographic flags that 'hung' from the arches, while a few physical ones flew on posts. A nod to the rise of technology in the Kingdoms.

He scoured the grounds critically, searching for the Saint. If the woman was here by nefarious means, she was not subtle about it.

---

The Warp shifted and bent, more than the Immaterium would every other time. Yet despite there being no atmosphere to speak of; no form to her body while she had one, the Warp became crushing under the gaze of Daemons.

The rushing streaks of light blinded her nonexistent-existent eyes, while her body felt as if it was being compressed and torn apart at the seams. Wounds millennia old ripped open while others closed, memories of her past and of other people entirely filled her mind, blocking out all thought but pain and the agony of loss and love.

Yet it all cleared and intensified as galaxies formed in her sight, smiling down upon her with love and malcontent. Her mind burst with pulsating pain as the galaxies bore into her soul, making her heart beat out of natural order, forcing it to beat to another's rhythm.

She wanted to scream, but found nothing to scream with as her body was pulled apart by the lover's gaze upon her.

There was a peace in the death she was experiencing. It warmed her being as if it were an embrace of those she once cared for, now gone to the winds of time and horrors of the surrounding wars of the galaxy.

It gave her a serenity in knowing that something was awaiting in the afterlife-

Yet death was something she experienced time and time again, corpses of her own making piled high into the mists of blood and bone. Piled in wreckage and atop mountains of gore.

She walked it all, seen it all. Was tugged from death and brought to life, each and every time by a will not of her own. Compelled by duty and faith to continue the vengeance filled life that was Sainthood.

She changed course savagely, whipping her back in another direction and through the untamed Warp. Amusement filled the galaxies, siphoning all her being for sustenance, feeding her unbridled torment and copious amounts of pleasure that sent her over the edge in all directions.

Something white-hot flared all over her as more of her was pulled apart, piece by piece, by the gaping maw below the galaxies.

Where purple met her disconnected eyes, so did disappointment in the galaxies above. Then anger and frustration. Pleasure and dejection.

It all reversed direction as the Warp broke down into nothing but violence, then it all flashed the same blinding gold as sheer jealousy washed over her.

The ground met her ferociously and winded her with a violent thud. The device she was tasked to carry with her across the Maledictum fell from nothing, as if were spat up by a child. It fell across her chest plate and pressed her into the grass, winding her further and sending her vision swimming.

Above the shattered moon, from hundreds of thousands of light-years away, a maleficent grin opened across the sky, blighting the beauty of the night like a cancer. A wound that refused to seal.

And for the briefest of moments, as it all washed through the system like a tsunami, galaxies stared down upon them all, baying for their blood to be spilt.

Her sight became hazy as oxygen became scarce and what little energy she had left faded.

Hands threw the large device off her chest. The act allowed her to breathe easier as she gasped and rolled over in an attempt to get air.

"Slow. You will hyperventilate otherwise,"

She followed the instruction and started breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. Bit by bit, minute by minute, her breathing regulated, and she fell onto her back once more with closed eyes and her hands on her chest. It gave her a little comfort, thought not by much.

Suffocating was not a way she enjoyed dying. Though it was better than burning to death.

"Are you alright? Any further Injuries?" She knew the voice, and grey hair filled her vision when she managed to peel her eyes open, "Celestine?"

"Headmaster," she groaned as she pulled her up and out of the indent in the grass. Just a few feet away from her sat the beacon, flashing with a dying light.

The Saint scrambled to her feet as her task rushed back to her. She'd been to Baal once, and this certainly wasn't it, not with the broken moon in the sky and the lack of Blood Angels. But the light was dying, fading with each flash and sparking from the gashes made when the Great Rift- no, the things within the Rift, repelled her.

She scooped the device up with a groan of exertion and glanced at Ozpin, "this academy has a series of back-up generators?"

Ozpin nodded with confusion, "of course,"

"Show me," her demand was accented by the flames in her eyes.

The Headmaster nodded after a moment of hesitation, and waved for her to follow his slow jog towards the training grounds and smithy.

If she could keep it powered, she might get the tools to fix it and try again, or use it to establish a far less taxing way to get supplies, as per Sanguinius' suggestion before Baal entered the equation.

Ozpin pushed a door open and lead her down a hall to a pair of red doors. Beyond were a series of large generators, similar to the one she destroyed in Mountain Glenn. She placed the beacon down next to one and rushed to a set of draws and shelves next to the doors.

Celestine pulled a collection of cables with clamps on either end out and a mismatch of tools, "I am either about to electrocute myself, or anger the Omnissiah,"

"Omnissiah?" Ozpin asked from the sideline, keeping well out of her rushed way as she went back and forth with a series of cables and tools to pry the device open.

She ignored the question in favour of trying to undo the large bolts on a panel. When one wrench didn't work, she tried another. Her hand slipped and she fell over the beacon. The bolt barely budged.

She sat back up and simply hit the bolt as hard as she could, scratching both the wrench and bolt, before she tried again with a growl. "Fracking Omnissiah, let me in!"

The device flashed a dim light again.

The bolt came undone with a large heave and exertion of force, aided by her armour. A laugh left her as she moved onto the next one; one that came out easier than the last. As did the third and forth bolts, allowing access to the inner workings of the large device and mess of wires held together with purity seals, ties and more wires.

She tossed the wrench behind her and dug through the mess in a way that would have made the most aloof Priest of Mars shudder with rage at her carelessness, searching for the battery.

Good thing there wasn't a Tech-Priest in sight or system to witness the defilement of their sacred technology. Besides, she thought it as revenge for all the times a Tech-Priest challenged the legitimacy of the Emperor's Godhood.

Celestine hissed as her hand hit something hot, burning her digits, but she grasped it and tore it out of the device and dropped it to the ground between her knees. She glared at the offending component as she flexed her hand and winced in pain.

Through her glare, she noted the small cross under the red wire and singular horizontal line under the back one. At least whatever Forgeworld or Priest that made this knew to label correctly…

The beacon blinked faintly again.

She took the cables with the clamps and hooked them on the bare ends of the positive and negative wires. With a burst of speed, she got to her feet and marched up to a generator. Undoing a few smaller latches, a hinged panel swung open to reveal ports, dials, and metres.

Celestine looked back at Ozpin, "How do I turn it on?"

He took a moment to observe the machine, "Flick the switch with the red cover and turn the key to the left,"

She did as he told her and the generator came to life with a hum of electricity and lit to life. Celestine took a breath and looked at the beacon on the floor and took a breath.

She clamped the cables to the ports, and they sparked off each other, singing her armour and generator's panel. In moments, the metres went wild as the beacon drew as much power as it could, forcing the generator's humming to grow unsteadily and spark more.

The beacon's battery sparked and sent its own wave of electricity up the cables into the generator, blowing its lights and driving it into overdrive, while the light on the beacon shone bright enough for her and Ozpin to cover their eyes.

The air gained a metallic taste as she felt her hair rise on end. The beacon popped and the generator's hum reached a new volume and high pitch, making her eyes twitch and ears hurt.

Then the beacon flashed once with energy, killing the generator outright, and loud thumps of metal on concrete sounded throughout the building.

And the room went silent.

Celestine rubbed her eyes and blinked widely, "ow…"

"I concur," Ozpin said from his spot, "what happened?"

She glanced at the generator, smoke whiffed off it from every gap in its panelling, while the beacon did the same, "an overload of some sort…" she shrugged, "I am not a Priest of Mars, so I can not say for certain,"

"I am certain you overloaded them both," Ozpin stated with a sigh, "you do not know how electronics work, do you?"

Celestine shrugged slightly and walked up to the beacon, "like I said, not a Priest of Mars; weapon systems, I know how to deploy and use; main-line armoured vehicles I can drive, but anything more than that?"

She shook her head unapologetically.

"Very well. However, was this sword a part of what was meant to happen?" Ozpin asked sceptically,

She turned to where he now stood, and between two other generators, the same Sword and Shield the Captain-General was handling sat against the generators.

"Oh… that was not the plan in the slightest…" she hummed and smacked her lips as she strode forward and hoisted them up with a grunt, "right… I suppose I have the weapons now,"

"For the Custodian, I assume?"

"Certainly is built for his kind," she put the shield and sword down when her arms started to shake, "damn heavy, they are…" she readjusted her grip on them and took a breath. She gave him a false smile and a small nod, "just a moment,"

She vanished again, and appeared on the coffee table of her apartment. She stepped down and placed the weapons on the couch and vanished again, this time appearing where she landed in Beacon Academy's courtyard.

There was an indent in the grass and dirt where she fell, and where the beacon was tossed off her. And just beyond that, sat a hovering mass of gold and red. Streamlined so was its design, that even to an outsider such as herself, she could identify it as a Jetbike of some variant.

Of course, she knew it to be Custodes gear, as evident by its colour-scheme, but it wasn't a model she'd seen them to have; it was double the length of the already massive vehicles of war, and instead of the common Bolter or Las-weapons they and the Astartes had on their bikes, this one had a weapon that glowed a sinister orange in parts.

She stalked up to it, as if it were a skittish beast, and circled it. She reached out with her hand and let her fingers brush against the golden trim and velvet red panels, tracing the detailing in awe. The machine was beautiful, as was the massive spear held on the other side of it.

Even the soft hum of its engines and Grav-repellor was a sound she could listen to for hours. It was far more refined than any propulsion system she'd heard; not as obnoxious as a Valkyrie, or as head-splitting as a Rhino. But instead it held a raw power that was tamed and directed, it popped in idle, trying to break free of the restraints the systems held it in, promising unadulterated speed for whoever rode the beast into battle.

Celestine felt a ping of jealousy at the Legio Custodes, where were such devices and machines for her Sororitas to ride upon, to bring swift judgement to the heretics and aliens?

Perhaps Cawl would design some for the Orders to use?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and tapped her comm-bead, "I bring news,"

"About bloody time," Greyfax grumbled, "what happened?"

A breath, "Leman is dead,"

"By whom?" Kotek's voice asked,

Celestine lent against the Jetbike, "Lorgar, apparently. It seems that Chaos is picking up it's attacks,"

Greyfax sighed, "I gather the Wolves of Fenris know?"

Celestine nodded despite no one being near to see it, "Vulkan informed them… that said, Leman's loss came with a gain for ourselves, for fate decided to trade one for another,"

"Corvis? Khan?" Kotek speculated first, "there are no other Primarchs left to return,"

The Saint prepared for the inevitable with a wince, "I met with Sanguinius,"

"And Fyodor is the Emperor's reincarnation," Greyfax scoffed, "you've spent too much time in the Warp, Celestine,"

"I watched his sons fall into rage and despair upon his death, the Primarch is dead,"

"The Captain-General and Vulkan himself spoke to him, as did many of the Palace guard and Custodes and Inquisitor Vail," Celestine protested, "by the way, in the apartment is a sword and shield for you, Kotek,"

"Thank you, I shall retrieve them now. But I must protest, Sanguinius is dead, I saw his corpse,"

Celestine rolled her eyes, "and I've seen my own. Forgive me, but I know what I saw and who I spoke to,"

"Then we will have to agree to disagree," Kotek negotiated, "Horus broke him,"

A small, irritated sigh left her. It wasn't a surprise that they didn't believe her, she wouldn't believe herself either if she didn't see the Primarch in the flesh; but it still was a more than a bit discouraging that they refused to try to believe her.

So, she settled on the next piece of information, specifically the one she leaned on currently, "I also have a Jetbike."

"An Astartes one or?" Greyfax queried,

"Custodes," Celestine clarified, "it is far too large for me to transport like the weapons,"

"I have access to the fleet, I will come to you. Do not let the vehicle out of your sight,"

"Understood. If I have to move it, how would I? I have driven other vehicles before, but not something like this," Celestine asked as she turned to the sound of footsteps approaching her.

Ozpin tilted his head and looked over the Jetbike in awe, much like she did.

"Get onto the seat, depending on the variant of Jetbike there should be a rune in the top left or middle left of the display,"

Celestine hoisted herself up onto the seat and looked around the display panel. Needle dials showed various amounts of power, and maintained their place at the lower end of the range, while a screen in the centre pinged out surroundings and target awareness. She found the button in one of the places, described, "top left,"

Kotek let out a noise of surprise, "a Gyrfalcon. I have not ridden one of them for centuries after the Scouring. What does the forward weapon look like?"

"It glows orange,"

"Do not, I repeat, do not let anyone capture that Jetbike," Kotek ordered sternly his voice losing any hint of friendliness it held a second before, "if you fire the main weapon, your target will cease existing at a molecular level. The technology in the Adrathic Devastator was deemed too dangerous to be in another's hands by the Emperor Himself,"

Celestine glanced at what she thought was the trigger built into the handlebars, then the glowing weapon that ran down the centre of the vehicle with a weary eye, "understood. I will kill any who tries to take it,"

She spoke loud enough for Ozpin to hear, and the man rose a brow as he glanced between the Adrathic Devastator and herself, but didn't speak a word.

Celestine willed her wings out of existence and swallowed, "the Jetbike is already running, how do I engage the thrusters?"

"Before that, disengage the dampeners that are keeping the Gyrfalcon in place by flicking the thumb-switch on the right handlebar."

She did as instructed and the Jetbike jerked forward, startling her with a small yelp. Celestine cleared her throat, "got it,"

"Pedals on the footrest, press them both evenly to move straight, any deviance in pressure will make it drift to the side that has the most pressure; left has the least, then it will go right and vice versa. The handle bars are for steering like a normal bike."

Celestine gave the left pedal a small amount of pressure, and the bike started to spin left slowly. She waited until the Jetbike faced the clearing that lead to the forest before she put an equal amount of pressure on the right pedal.

The bike slowly moved forward with the propulsion systems humming a little louder and the plasma-thrusters glowed bright blue, trying to break free of the restraints as their components worked in perfect tandem. Deep, reverberating pops and cracks resonated through her armour and bones, sending a chill down her arms and a rush of adrenaline up her spine.

"That popping? That is the plasma breaching the containment fields. Normally, the Gyrfalcon moves under the propulsion of the Grav-repulsors, but the Plasma-thrusters grant it great boosts in speed." Kotek chuckled a little; a sound that was uncommon for him, "it is a loud machine, but the enemy will never have time to react before you are upon them."

Out, behind the Academy, deep within the Emerald Forest, a blue light shone through the foliage and canopy, emitting rays of crystal blue light. She shot her head up and found she could look over the top of the Gyrfalcon, "something is happening in the forests behind Beacon,"

"Permission to investigate and engage whatever is there," Kotek told her, "do not crash the Gyrfalcon,"

His words sunk in, and a smile spread across her face, "understood,"

Before Ozpin could react next to her, she pushed her feet down as far as they could go, and the Jetbike responded immediately.

Beacon Academy quickly became distant, and the forests surrounded her in blurs. The dials on the display jumped with each movement she made with the Jetbike, whether it was avoiding trees or simply manoeuvring the vehicle when a clearing came up. The rush of air through her hair was nothing like it was when she flew, but it gave her a rush she didn't want to let go.

Now the White Scars' love of speed made a bit more sense to her.

She dived between the trees and over boulders and ruins that were scattered throughout the forests. The screen lit a faint green with a dot ahead of her.

She looked up and found an Ursa standing on its hind legs and roared in challenge at her.

In response, Celestine flicked the containment fields off, and the bike jettisoned forward as the Plasma-thrusters roared to life across the forest. She lent forward and aimed the bike at the beast; with a gentle press of both triggers, the Adrathic Devastator lit the forest orange and crackled out an unstable, lancing beam.

The shrubs and bushes in its path fizzled away, leaving a faint after-image of what they were and hit the Ursa. Unlike the shrubs, the beast burst into orange light and disintegrated violently and explosively, as if the atoms themselves were being torn apart, igniting the dry trees and grass aflame.

Seconds later, she shot through the ghastly after-image of the Ursa, the crackling of the Plasma-thrusters droning out her laughter as she sped through the forest.

"Is there any chance I can have one!?" she shouted over the ungodly noise she was making with the Jetbike

"No. You will be the first and last mortal to ever pilot one of these,"

Her response was overtaken by the rapidly approaching cliff and the ruins that were strewn about them. She flicked the containment field on and lifted her foot off the right pedal, drifting the Jetbike to stop just at the mouth of a bridge leading to the ruins.

Moss and vines covered everywhere she looked, snaking its way up and over the highest points of the ruins, but at the other end of the bridge, the source of the light was an archway rebuilding itself stone by stone. Vines of Wraithbone held the wayward pieces together and snaked through the entire arch, solidifying its form in reality from the dreams of whatever willed it into existence.

Sprinting steps followed from where she came, and she found Ozpin coming up behind her to a halt in a jog. The fact he managed to follow her so closely was a concern in of itself, though the ins and outs of Aura were still lost on her, "what is happening?"

Celestine shook her head, "I do not know,"

The Headmaster paid her no mind as he watched on in fascinated horror at the creation forming in front of them. He blinked and what appeared to be Aura washed over him, changing the colour of his eyes to a slightly lighter brown.

With an internal frown, Celestine noted nothing like that happened when Emerald engaged her Aura, only when she practised with her Semblance with changing her appearance.

Out from the arch, Wraithbone snaked and engulfed the end of the bridge it sat on, reinforcing its structure and solidifying its existence in the Materium.

A small, humming pop signified the activation, and blue energy filled the centre within the gate.

Part of her felt bad for making the poor Inquisitor write out all she knew, but whatever Vail knew would evidently come in some form of use later down the line if these gates were this common among the ruins.

Fog seeped out from the gate, washing over the bridge like a waterfall.

"I do not like this," Ozpin muttered,

"Neither do I," Celestine falsely agreed. If they went into a mockery of a Webway gate, perhaps this was them finding a way out of it from the inside.

The energy shifted and bulged as something pushed through, breaking the thin layer of membrane on the newly created gate. White and black formed the make of a large, ever-shifting mask of emotions that protruded from the uppermost section of the gate. Then its hand stretched out, embroidered with clothes that flicked through the colour spectrum as it cackled in tones that changed each second.

The only consistency was the large, thin grin on the mask and the glowing blue eyes.

Her stomach churned in turmoil and the taste of bile became familiar. But unlike the galaxies from before, no more than mild mischief radiated off it in droves. Not the mix of intense, contradictory emotion and putrid intents.

She pushed the images aside, leaving them for council or prayer, and focused on what was in front of her. Whatever it was, its presence was overwhelming, smothering her in raw power.

Celestine glanced at Ozpin to find he looked pale. So it wasn't just her.

The rest of the gate rippled and shifted as more came through under the being before them.

And she found relief at the familiar sight of Hesperax's form, something she was more than glad to witness at the moment. She was vile, but she was comprehensible, understandable and something she could handle.

Normal. Her subconscious muttered.

The others that followed out after her brought confusion; a small collection of wounded Guard being helped along by her Geminae Superia. Ironwood stayed a large distance away from Lelith all while Emerald refused to move from her side as she held a kitten of some kind in one hand, and a strange weapon of razors in her other.

"What- what?" she straightened, "what happened?"

Ironwood gave her an empty stare and looked at Ozpin the same way. He shuffled past Lelith across the bridge as quickly as he could and kept moving back towards the Academy.

Celestine glanced back at the General from atop the Jetbike, then to Ozpin who wore a look of unbridled shock at the gate. She turned back in time to watch as the giant being waved one hand over his open palm, conjuring items that were held out for Lelith to take.

Then it retreated back into the Webway. The Gate itself vibrated and shook apart as the energy flickered out of existence.

In the distance, muffled by the trees, howling signalled more attention was drawn than she'd liked. With a glance once more at the retreating form of Ironwood, she turned to her Geminae Superia, "Eleanor, escort the General back to the Academy grounds, we will ensure the others make it back,"

She engaged the dampeners and hoped down from the Jetbike.

"Of course, Saint," the twin let the Guard go carefully and made sure they had their comrade to lean on,

"Take care of the General," Ozpin shook himself out of his state and his eyes returned to normal, "whatever is en route, we will deal with,"

With a burst of their jump pack, the Twins caught up to the General.

Celestine helped the other Guardsman once they crossed over the bridge and allowed them both a moment of rest and prayer. She was no hospitaller, but she knew they would recover from the few wounds they had, though it may take longer than any of them would like.

She unclasped the helmet of one, "what is your name?"

"Hael, Corporal Hael Diroges, My Saint," the woman responded quietly, "we're safe, now, yes?"

Celestine nodded, "of course," she placed the helmet aside and cupped the woman's cheek as she muttered a few more prayers with closed eyes. When she was finished, she took her hands, "might I ask what you were all fleeing from?"

"A fate worse than anything else," the woman whispered distantly, "I watched Cadia fall, fought on its lands until Creed Himself ordered us to leave. But that place we were in… anything and everything was possible with no light to guide anyone,"

"What she is saying is that Commorragh is a place for those who have taste," Lelith came up next to Celestine and tilted her head as she addressed the two Guards, "is that not right?"

They froze when she spoke and shivered in terror as the Wych Queen knelt down into their view, forcing them through their own fear to stare at her, "not to worry, I plan not on using you the same way my Wyches did,"

The two whimpered at the reminder of what happened, though they took the presence of Celestine enough to glare back mildly. Though it was clear that it was nowhere near as harsh as they would have liked it to be, yet they defied her all the same.

Something Celestine knew would be taken as a challenge. She sighed, "you will only encourage her,"

"What?" the other Guard exclaimed in disbelief. He had the mind to look embarrassed when he received a raised brow from Celestine, "apologies, My Holiest of Saints, but she is Xeno, a wretched being of torment that needs to be purged,"

Lelith scoffed, "you are both alive thanks to my efforts, do not mistake that, or would you like me to continue where my underlings left off?"

Celestine rolled her eyes at the threat and glanced back at the woman, "same goes for you, stop it,"

The Drukhari puckered her lips in annoyance, but followed the request anyway. She turned from the Saint, her remaining twin bodyguard and the two Guardsmen to meet the confused gaze of Ozpin, "I see we have woken you,"

Ozpin glanced between her and the remnants of the Webway gate, "where did you come from?"

"Commorragh," Lelith brushed hair over her shoulder and put a hand on her hip, "it was an unexpected tour, but the others survived,"

"James did not look well," he stated, "what happened?"

She smirked with vitriol in her eyes and she purposely moved her head in a cat-like manner, "we did,"

A howl, closer than the last, broke her off from whatever she was thinking of saying next; something Celestine was thankful for. Ozpin found no amusement in the Drukhari's proud declaration, however, he took to the encroaching Grimm instead of bickering with the woman; something Celestine was grateful for.

Emerald wandered up next to the Saint, finally making herself known, and let out a breath filled with anxiety.

Celestine looked her over, noting the animal in her and the change of clothes from when she saw her last, but concerned her the most were the faint scars along her hands and up her right arm. With a dangerous glare, she glanced back at Lelith, "did she do this?"

Emerald shook her head, "n-no… she took care of me…" the girl gulped back her tears as best she could,

Celestine furrowed her brows, "there is no need to lie to-"

"I'm not," Emerald whispered, "I know you don't really like her, but she's… she's not that bad,"

"Emerald, I know what the Drukhari do. I've experienced it first hand," Celestine spoke softly and placed a hand on her shoulder, "did she hurt you anyway?"

Emerald shook her head, "she killed the one who did,"

With a sigh, Celestine stood and pulled the Guards to their feet, "we will discuss this later. Do you have your Las-pistol?"

"No,"

"Then stay near me until we are back at the Academy," Celestine tapped the Comm-bead in her ear, "Ironwood is back, along with Emerald and Lelith. The rest I will explain when Kotek arrives."

"Understood." Greyfax and Kotek responded in unison. Kotek continued, "Celestine, look to the skies, do you see anything?"

She wondered why she was told to do so, but complied anyway and found her heart in her stomach as a purple tear stared down at her. Ignoring it didn't make it go away, it seemed. "Cicatrix Maledictum,"

"Confirmed. I was wondering when it would become visible to Remnant."

Celestine turned back to Emerald with a sigh and rose a brow, "now, get on the Jetbike, you will be safer there… and don't touch anything,"

---

Ozpin waited till the elevator doors to his office slid shut behind them, securing their privacy as best it could, "James, what happened?"

The question was one he was most curious about, one that pricked at the back of his mind for a while, though he tried to ignore it under the assumption it would never get answered. Yet as he sat as his desk and the gears ticked around him, Ironwood's blank face and distant stare told him the answer wasn't a good one.

"James?" Ozpin asked softly, careful gauging the man's reaction to his next words, "what did Hesperax do?"

The General snapped his blank eyes down to him, "I… Commorragh…" he clutched his gloved hand, "do you know what uses the shadows to conceal itself?"

Salem. "Yes, I do,"

Ironwood shook his head desperately, "their buildings were non-euclidean, nothing made sense! Pathways were held aloft by green beasts and giants chained down through their bones, signs were made of flesh; living, moaning flesh-"

Ironwood stepped forward as he spoke, frantically with new, terrified life in his eyes- "they laughed amongst themselves as men and women screamed under their blades, they fucking ate people alive and violated the rest in ways that shouldn't be possible!"

He only stopped once he walked into the desk, snapping him out of his panicked state. He looked down at his gloved hand again, then glanced at Ozpin.

In a quick moment, the started to remove his ruined jacket, then his shirt.

Ozpin pulled back into his seat, "what are you doing?"

"They're more advanced than I thought possible, Ozpin," Ironwood muttered as he undid his shirt's buttons, "we rely so heavily on Dust, where they never even knew what it was, not that it works wherever they are anyway. Weapons that fragment crystals to use as bullets, devices that unleash black holes on the users' whim…"

His shirt finally fell away and Ozpin's brows furrowed, then widened as he noticed the flesh weaved in between the metal of his prosthetics. "They did this?"

"Only because I lost my metal hand in a fight, then Lady Hesperax," he spat the woman's name and title, "so gracefully had her 'Haemonculus' graft a new one on, so I could 'fight better' in her show,"

"How does it fee-"

Ironwood cut him off, "it pinned me down with grotesque creatures and let Hesperaxs' Wyches do what they want with me, Ozpin. It pumped me full of toxins and poisons while the whores under that woman's command used my body." he planted his palms on the desk and lent forward, "it still hurts, Oz. They made it hurt the entire time as they took flesh and bone from me to create this hand,"

Ironwood rose the shaky appendage of metal and flesh, "then there were the things in the arena; Astartes, soldiers, civilians, Men, women, and children; green beasts, metal skeletons, giant bugs and Drukhari of every kind-" he grew back into his frantic state as he went on, "it wasn't a show like the Vytal Festival, but a full fucking slaughter of anyone and everyone! If you were in the arena or its stands, you were a target as much as everyone else!"

"Art, she called it," he scoffed with a hysterical laugh, "nothing was safe, Ozpin! Nothing!"

Ozpin took a slow, deep breath, "James, how certain are you that it-"

Ironwood slammed both his hands down onto the desk, "For fuck sake, Ozpin! The city moved on its own, the people were like Lelith, things we've never even imagined existed there! We have multiple people claiming the same thing; they're from a galactic civilisation with evidence to back it up-"

James lent in, "and I walked through a fucking Vault and end up in hell, but you dare deny it all?"

"I can't take their words for granted, James," Ozpin sighed and steadied his gaze at Ironwood, "If it is Sal-"

"It's not Salem, you fool!" Ironwood threw himself back in frustration with his hands in the air, "Not everything is Her doing, not everything is tied to Her, Ozpin!"

Ozpin furrowed his brows, "and if it is, James? What then? The Custodian claimed a seat on the council while you were gone, they're claiming power for themselves. Greyfax with the Intelligence sect, the Custodian with the Council and now I fear Celestine will take a religious approach,"

Ironwood paused with his back turned to Ozpin. His shoulders heaved with a few hard breaths. He turned slowly, "Greyfax took the place of the previous head, assassinated by Marcus, and the Custodian has earned his place,"

"Before the election? James, this sets a dangerous preci-"

Ironwood shook his head, all sparks of fear left his eyes, "we can't stop them. They'll just undermine everything we've done to help Remnant if we try… If you can't work alongside them, then I will, Ozpin."

Ozpin hid his wide eyes behind his glasses and took a different approach, "even if they have Hesperax on their side,"

Ironwood chewed the inside of his cheek in debate. He slowly nodded, "at least this way I can keep an eye on the twisted bitch. Kotek can handle her anyway," the General slowly slumped as everything caught up, and his adrenaline wore down, "Oz, they can help us- help you. We don't have to be alone in this anymore, we don't have to risk any more losses like Summer. We can fight now,"

"But at what cost, James? War comes with a cost, it always has," the human factor always suffered, always had and always will. It was a fact of war so few realised until it effected them. Even the most war-hungry became pacifists the moment it effected them.

Ironwood shrugged his shoulders, "would you rather take the one chance you have to win, or sit back and do nothing? I know my choice, Ozpin; I'm fighting as much as I can with them, they all can do damage we never could,"

"She won't take it sitting down,"

"And let her build up for the next ten years?" Ironwood shook his head, "no. I won't let that happen, She will not get that chance,"

Ozpin sat back in his chair and let his arms drop onto the armrests, "will you tell them of Salem?"

"No, not yet. I know they can fight her, I want to make sure they can be trusted first," Ironwood spoke softly, "they might find out before then anyway,"

"They should not be burdened by such knowledge, James,"

Ironwood shook his head as his hands distractedly redid his clothes, "I was escorted out of a galactic fucking hallway by a literal Laughing God, Oz. It terrified the Drukhari; the things that thrive off fear and brutality fled from it,"

Ozpin blew a puff of air out his nose. Another god? They both knew there were only two true gods on this world, and he said as much to the General across from him, earning a frown.

"Alright, fine." Ironwood ran his unaltered, purely biological hand through his hair, "if none of this can convince you, if you're so stubborn to believe what's in front of you, then remember; they're better working with us than against us, Oz. Celestine has hundreds of thousands of Sororitas that would follow her to their deaths, Kotek is one of ten thousand, the entire Inquisition behind Greyfax…"

Ironwood sighed as the sun slowly shone down. Natural light at last. "The Astra Militarum outnumbers Remnant a hundred-fold, Oz. If not through skill, they can easily drown us with numbers,"

Ozpin took a sip from his mug and sighed, "James, go lie down, please… you are clearly stressed and exhausted,"

"Oz, if you won't tell them of Salem, at least tell them of the Maidens," Ironwood muttered, "if they haven't figured them out already, they will in time. They'll learn it all and ask why you never said a thing,"

"There are things even you don't know, James," Ozpin muttered, "there's more to this than you realise,"

Ironwood bit back his words with a frown. He tossed a hand in the air, "whatever, Oz. We're trying to aid you, but you keep denying us. Leaving us in the dark, not telling anyone anything; all it did is drive Summer to her death, she went in without a single idea of what Salem was because you never said a damn thing,"

Ironwood watched the Headmaster for a moment in silence, then grunted at the lack of reaction, "goodnight, Ozpin,"

The elevator doors opened to let the General in, and once they closed, Ozpin let out a volatile sigh and took a nervous breath. He turned and looked out at the shattered moon, and it's new sky it sat in, filled with purple and pink.

---

Celestine wished she could say she felt bad for taking over a Dormitory room, but she needed a shower and certainly wasn't going to use the public ones, not at the moment at least.

"Do you need to shower?"

Emerald blinked and shook her head as she gently pat the kitten in her arms, "no… Lelith made sure I used her spa-bath-thing…"

The Saint nodded, "then excuse me, while I shower then,"

Without much regard for her armour or the damage to the carpet, Celestine stripped her armour off and let it fall to the floor as whatever happened in the Warp was finally allowed to register.

Her body still hurt and her recollection was nothing but pain and the imprint of eyes that never were there staring at her.

She closed the bathroom door behind her and sighed shakily. She knew what nearly happened, what she nearly became. No Greater Daemon was capable of such things, let alone a Lesser Daemon, that she knew from unwanted experience.

A cold shiver settled over her, not from the cold air touching her bare skin, but a simple realisation. For all her time as His servant, a warrior that fought man and Daemon alike, there were entities she never dealt with, both inside and out of the Warp. Powers that she knew she would never experience, wield or comprehend.

Ceggorach wasn't the only 'God' she witnessed.

"The Emperor Protects, The Emperor Protects, The Emperor Protects," she started to mutter rapidly in between prayers and hymnals as hot water soaked her. Her hands shook, and fear she hadn't felt for a long time saturated her body.

She couldn't die, that she was well aware of. No respite, nothing.

And she came within moments of discovering what it would be like to be held in the Youngest God's clutches.

The pain, the torment, and pleasure it gained and inflicted upon her… her knees weakened, and she lent against the tile wall. Death, or an eternity of untold misery, nearly became of her, and if, if, Sanguinius had come with her would he have been able to prevent it or have joined her in pain and suffering?

Celestine shook her head, ignoring the stinging in her eyes, "He wouldn't have translated,"

Now she had even more reason to not attempt something similar. That side of the Galaxy was lost, even to her newfound abilities.

With a frown, she pushed herself off the wall and began to scrub as much as she could. It wouldn't cleanse her mind of what happened, but it certainly helped ease it. Especially since she wanted to talk to Emerald, and she knew being in a bad mood would do no favours.

It took a few more minutes before she felt satisfied with how clean she was, even if it rendered the room of nearly all its soap and other necessities, and finally let the hot water rest.

She didn't particularly care that she didn't have any other spare clothes, and wasn't willing to tempt fate once again by teleporting over for something she could live without for a few more days. She lived in her armour, and could do so again if need be.

Quickly and thoroughly drying herself off, she dumped the towel in a hamper and left the room, "apologies, Emerald,"

Said girl glanced at her and shrugged, "it's fine, I don't really care anymore,"

Celestine rose a brow at her as she sat next to her, "are you alright?"

"No,"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no," Emerald gulped, "I'm sick of crying,"

The Saint tilted her head, "don't be, not after being in Commorragh," Celestine pulled Emerald, and by extension the kitten, closer by her shoulder, "I've been on the receiving end of the Drukhari, I know what they can do… but Lelith protected you, didn't she?"

Emerald glanced up at her and fell into Celestine's side, "she did, she helped me a lot,"

"Then I owe her," She moved her hand under the kitten's nose and let it sniff, "I am just happy you're back,"

Emerald pushed herself further into Celestine's side, and started to shake, "I-I lost the Las-pistol,"

"I can get another one," Celestine wrapped one hand around Emerald and stroked her green hair with her other,

"I l-lost my jacket,"

"I can get another," she repeated softly,

Emerald turned and pressed her face into Celestine's side, trying to hide away from the world, all while the Saint let her own tears free.

"You're back, that's all that matters," Celestine muttered, now clutching the girl tightly, "whatever you lost, I can get again,"

She looked out over the room, none of the four beds were big enough for the two of them, but Celestine didn't care. She unwrapped Emerald from her embrace and picked the mangy kitten up gently and placed it on the end of the bed.

And as gently as she could, she prodded Emerald under the covers before she joined her from the other side. Immediately, Emerald latched onto her before she even lied down.

---

Sienna couldn't help but sigh. Ghira got to leave and do whatever he wanted, no matter how slow and cumbersome the results of his protests and civil-rights meetings. But nothing ever seemed to change.

Promises were made and never enacted on, trust was never truly built between the Kingdoms. Hell, only Vale and Mistral seemed to be the only ones to actively go against the systematic racism, but even then, shops, bars, and all manner of places the public could go still held a zero-tolerance for the Faunus.

But it was till better than Atlas. Anything was better than the snow-dwelling snobs. They'd bully and prosecute anyone they deemed under them, even that damn General only allowed Faunus into his ranks to please the few vocal ones in Mantle.

Was it true progression if the Humans only allowed anything because they got a little rowdy every once in a while? They preached how good their lives were in the Kingdoms, unaware or wilfully ignorant of the oppression they went through, and put anyone back in 'their rightful place' if they became too much trouble.

The illusion of freedom, the same illusion Ghira was falling for now he had his daughter. He was slowing down, getting softer.

Something she hated fiercely. What good was a fighter if they couldn't fight anymore? But he still made progress, that she could see, even if it was far and few between.

There was a knock at the door and Sienna let out another sigh, this time to release the frustration she held, "coming!"

The knock sounded again, and she tore her eyes away from her fresh tattoos irritably, "I said I'm coming!"

Sienna rolled her shoulders and pulled a bath robe over herself before she did it up enough to cover herself completely. Her bare feet stomped on the mansion's floor boards and took her through the dining room to the front doors of Ghira's mansion.

She tore open the doors to find a nervous guard standing there, Sienna glared, "what is it?"

The guard opened his mouth to respond, but he found no words came out. His long ears flattened atop his head and he simply stepped aside.

For a moment, Sienna didn't know what she was looking at, only a blood-red heart surrounded by gold staring back at her.

"I apologise profusely for this late night intrusion, however, I have a found myself in a… predicament,"

Sienna's eyes widened as they rose from the heart-shaped stone, over the rest of the armour. At first, she thought it was another of the Custodians, but the size alone ruled that out, as much as the massive wings did.

"Who- w-what?" Sienna stuttered, and the man smiled calmly down at her with a small amount of amusement in his red and blue eyes,

"That is a conversation we may have somewhere else," his smile turned wiry as he looked over her shoulder to the flooring inside, "I fear the building will not support my weight,"

She found she could only nod dumbly at him as she stepped out of the mansion, closing the door behind her, "I, uh, we may walk the beach, if you like?"

"Miss Khan, there is the danger of the Grimm out there," the guard protested with a glance at the giant,

Sparks formed a spiral and solidified into a massive spear in one of the giant's hands, and he held his other arm out for her to lead the way, "I can defend us both, do not worry, Lady?"

She took a step forward and paused, "Sienna,"

"Lady Sienna, it is then," he took a breath of the air in and contentment rolled over his features, "you may call me Sanguinius,"

She couldn't help but rub her eyes, trying to see if the man was an illusion. But he was still there, lit by the moonlight, when she peeled them open. Her mouth dried up as his size sunk in; the man was massive, larger than even the Custodian Atlas liked to flaunt around…

But his wings… not even the God of Creation could have made something so perfect.

"Yes, they do draw a lot of attention," He chuckled at her blatant staring, "though not all of it is good,"

The night was going to be a long one, apparently.

---

OMAKE(s):

Kotek hummed and glanced at Greyfax, "I feel like we've forgotten something,"

The Inquisitor shrugged and continued to read the myriad of reports she had on her, "it probably wasn't important if you forgot it,"

"Plausible," Kotek agreed with a nod, though the feeling never went away,

Back in the mines, deep within the underground ruins and inside the old mansion, Alexea sighed. Not the first time the Custodes forgot about her order, and wouldn't be the last, apparently.

No, I didn't forget about her, she just had no real role to play in the current chapters.

---

The roar of engines alerted all the civilians on the sidewalks and awoke the few who decided to sleep in on a weekday.

Martha gasped as it grew closer, blaring a hideous beat in warning. Tears pricked at her eyes and she knelt down to cup her young son's face, "don't listen to it, Timmy, cover your ears!"

"But mum…" he whined, as all children tended to do. But he didn't know what was coming, what had breached the Kingdom's pure society.

She frowned and covered his hears, forgoing her own safety as the noise drew closer. She choked back a sob, "I'm sorry, my boy,"

From around the corner, the affront to all decency came, shining gold and red. Its frame bounced to the tune it played from hastily mounted speakers, and the golden rider sat in Stoic silence. The end had come at last.

"They see me rollin'; they hatin'~"

---

A/N

It only took nearly four months, but I'm still here.

Don't worry, Sang is just dropping by, not a permanent addition.

Poor Sanguinius, Guilliman told him that Celestine has an actual brain, but not that she's still a little unhinged like the rest of the Imperium. Now the poor man is trying to get her away from worshipping his dad.

Lelith wasn't the only one to meet a God, shame it was Slannesh and Celestine was its chew toy for a moment. Funny how that and the Cicatrix appear in the same chapter at the same time. Strange, huh?

I low-key now head-cannon Celestine with mild dyslexia thanks to my fuck-up regarding the population of Remnant. How and why I thought ten million was enough, I will never know, but to that one reviewer that pointed it out; you were right, it's really fucking small. I'm just an idiot.

Celestine also discovers the joys of DAOT guns. For when you really want something to stop existing… Valoris isn't going to be happy about it, that's for sure. Shame Celestine is terrified of using her teleportation ability any time soon and the Cicatrix is going to have an unseen effect on them soon. I wonder why.

I'm not entirely happy with Ozpin, he feels poorly written, probably because he is. So far, I think he's the weakest of my writing to the point that I dread having to write him. I'm going to try and fix him as best I can.

Title is from 'Heartbreak Feels So Good' by Fall Out Boy. But the Lyric in this context is in reference to both Ironwood and Lelith in the pits. Though I have a few songs that match specifically Lelith; Main one being 'Me, Myself and I' with the sense of lonely pride it gives off.

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Reviews:

Bloodredroses11: Lol, Ironwood is clearly incredibly ungrateful. Thankfully, the pits made him respect the Wyches more…

Yeah, I acknowledge that Celestine isn't as front and centre as she was in the beginning, but I make sure to have her in every chapter at bare minimum. And yeah, she's going to start a cult soon. Why? To spite anyone who tells her not to. (also to have Sanguinius be a disappointed father at her as he comes to understand the Imperium is fucked beyond fixing)

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Cooldude101011: Inspired by TTS, yes, but not a copy of it. It was originally meant to be very cannon-compliant to both 40k and RWBY; but I'm having fun with characters that should never have met or be alive, and clearly my butchering of lore is entertaining to roughly 400 hundred people. (that's 400 more than I expected, God damn,)

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Olympus the Golem of Light: Now I wish Last Wall 'Fists was on the list. That sounds awesome. Alas, we have an ageing Custodian with a bike that makes things stop existing on a molecular level. Because the gang weren't OP as it is.

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Guest: new chapter now.

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See everyone four more months from now (hopefully not, lol)