"What have you done?"

The moment the words left her lips Taylor knew it was a stupid question. She'd shared a vision, she'd seen Luna resplendent in black painted armour and white cloak with two others behind her. She'd tasted the timbre of their power in the air. She knew.

Taylor closed her eyes for a long second, fighting the urge to throw the half-made sword to the ground and cast her senses out, but she managed to overcome her baser instinct. It was a close-run thing, her heart beating hard, but she mastered her first impulse: the sword needed to be worked, now, or she would have to start all over again. She bit her lip, forcibly locking her emotions away, and picked up the hammer once more.

A hammer. Armsmaster had looked at her like she was mad when she'd refused the more advanced tools, but some things were better done the old way. Slower, but that was even better: the more time she took to infuse her power into the blade, the better it would be. Hammer and anvil and grindstone, hard work. Satisfying work, Taylor thought as she brought her hammer down in measured blows, shaping the blade, the focus required settling her.

The Emperor had always loved to forge, and Taylor could see why: the steady beat of the hammer, the hiss of sparks, the heat of the metal yielding to her was soothing, a comfortable repetition. It needed most of her focus, but Taylor didn't mind. The rest from thinking was welcome, in some ways. Taylor kept going, shaping the metal into the sword it would become, giving it form before she lifted it from the anvil and plunged it into the waiting oil. She pressed her power onto it, infusing it, searching for weaknesses and finding none. A good start. The blade was much smaller than the Emperor's own, and shaped differently: lacking the Emperor's fond memories of adventuring through Europe with a similar sword, Taylor had chosen a weapon that felt right, a sword patterned after a cavalry sword from the First World War. The greatest sword ever designed, some people claimed: Taylor was darkly amused to note that it was more similar to the weapon an Imperium Commissar might carry than an Astartes officer. Still, the blade shape was very much secondary, given that it would be a force weapon. Taylor drifted power along her limbs, running a finger turned to steel along the curve of the blade, hearing the soft singing of metal against metal.

Perfect.

Taylor carried the blade over a rack and gently set it down, leaving it in place. It wasn't finished, not yet: it needed the hilt, the guard, to be sharpened, but those could come once it had cooled. The heart of the sword was done, the intricate working that would make it a Force weapon was in place. Taylor had considered keeping it as a power weapon, but…in many ways, a force weapon was better. It made it harder to forge than a normal blade, but a psy-convector was, at heart, a runic device. The fact that she had inlayed it in copper rather than the alloy the Imperium used would probably have given a Librarian a fit, but there was no need to be so dramatic. The addition of the proper runes and her own psychic strength would make the use of the softer metal no issue: maybe it would have some issues if it came up against a masterfully forged Force Weapon wielded by a mighty Psyker, while someone without Taylor's strength was using it, but she somehow doubted that was likely. And, most importantly, a force weapon could only be properly wielded by a Psyker. Not that those were as rare as they should have been.

Taylor leaned against the table, closing her eyes and sighing. It was a long sigh, deep, from the very bottom of her lungs, exhaling until her chest twinged with the emptiness. She held it for a heartbeat, breathing in again and reaching out with her strength.

'There you are.'

She could feel, among the slowly shifting waves of the Warp, three points of light. Three? There had been two just minutes ago – but it made sense. If Taylor had decided to take the plunge on creating Psykers, she would have created as many as possible as quickly as possible, just in case something went wrong. So two extra Psykers.

"Luna must have found a way to hide herself from us," the Emperor rumbled, "Runes, perhaps. A dangerous amount of caution."

'Yeah, she seems to have gotten over a lot of her previous insanity,' Taylor quietly agreed. She could tell which of the three was Luna, her brighter light a lantern compared to candles, but that was all she could tell. She wondered who the other two were. Had Luna told them what they might risk, that they might be overwhelmed by the Warp and consumed utterly? Would she have told them? Taylor didn't know.

'I wonder what I look like to them,' Taylor mused. A light, she thought, stronger than Luna, especially if Luna was still hiding herself. Taylor hadn't bothered, without any other Psykers to see her, but now…she would have to practice, she thought.

'Boston,' she murmured, 'Why Boston? She's far away, why…ah. Blasto. One of the more famous Bio-Tinkers.'

"She could want something else," the Emperor warned, "But yes. I suspect that whatever method she has found for creating Psykers requires something like a virus base. It's what I would do, to introduce the Psyker gene into humanity."

'She is us, after all. I suppose that, if she's made it work…we'll have to confront her personally, before we do anything else. But just in case…'

Taylor turned and looked at the cooling sword, on the rack. Still unfinished but the shape was there, the intent. A sword forged to her weight, her height, her grip, her reach. A weapon for her, for the sole purpose of slaughter. A symbol, in some ways. And, most importantly, a weapon forged to negate Luna's regeneration. It almost certainly wouldn't work perfectly – Taylor was quite aware that forging a weapon capable of putting down a Perpetual like her required more than she could put into a sword at present – but if it would wound Luna and keep her down for months, even years? That would be the edge she needed, if it came to it. A thought drifted across her mind.

'I never asked,' Taylor said, 'About your sword. The Primarchs all liked to name their weapons…Forgebreaker, Fireblade, the Hand of Domination, it goes on. But what about you? Didn't you ever name your sword?'

The Emperor remained quiet for a moment before clearing his throat.

"No," he said, "I did not. I considered it, more than once: there were plenty of names I could have chosen. Liberator, or Unifier, or Purifier, or some other grand and heroic name. But it felt…hollow. Wrong. You should not name a blade unless you name it truthfully. I once considered being coy, naming it End of Empires, but…"

'Names have power.'

"Names have power. What will you call this one? Saviour? Guardian's Claw? Inevitability?"

'For the moment?' Taylor said, 'I think I'll just follow your lead.'

And maybe not just with the sword. She felt the Emperor stir with interest – had he possessed a physical body, he would have raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Penny for your thoughts."

'I think it's pretty clear that the cat's out of the bag with regards to Psykers. Any hope of there not being Psykers is probably gone, there's real precedent now. We could delay it, maybe, but it seems pointless. So. We take what we can get and we proceed as we are. Which might mean…'

"Working with Luna."

'Yeah.'

"You want to know," the Emperor said heavily, "If I think this is foolish. Because, in the back of your mind, you're comparing Luna to the Primarchs – or some of them."

Taylor shrugged physically.

'Some of the Primarchs, you must have expected they were likely to turn against you. A lot of them weren't exactly subtle about their opinions – or their insanity.'

The Emperor sighed softly.

"Far from perfect, much like their father. You want to know if I think this is the right thing to do. If I look back on the Primarchs and bitterly regret choosing to trust them, and that I will tell you to kill Luna and be done with it?"

Taylor let out a slow breath.

'Yes.'

There was a pause as the Emperor gathered his thoughts.

"You are correct, of course," he began, "That there were several Primarchs I did not trust. Konrad, naturally, was blatant in his madness even if I could control him at first. Mortarion. Hypocrite that he was, despising Psyker powers while having his own, and his resentment of me burrowed deep within him. Resentment, because I saved him! He would have died if I had not acted – and he hated me for it. So, yes, I could see him turning. Angron, of course. A beast. Unthinking hatred and I know that, in his deepest soul, he saw me as no better than the slavers who had damned him."

'You should have killed him when you had the chance. Burned his brain out and kept the body for geneseed, told the War Hounds that their Primarch died heroic, fighting on the battlefield. Who would have known?'

A sensation at the back of her skull, like a fist tightening, and Taylor raised an eyebrow. The sensation eased, replaced by something more like an apology, and Taylor shrugged again.

"Do you really think that, Taylor?"

Taylor sighed.

'No,' she admitted, 'But your choice was the worst of all worlds.'

The Emperor laughed bitterly.

"It was, wasn't it? I'd hoped that I could save him, perhaps, once everything else was done. His body was hopelessly compromised by the Nails, but perhaps a clone that I could transfer his soul into…but for the moment, I thought that it would be good enough. The same with Jaghatai. He thought much the same as Angron, I think, that I was a tyrant. But in the end, he chose the dream of a better Imperium over the promise of Chaos."

'He was a good man. A rarity amongst the Primarchs, to be sure. And Perturabo?'

A faint noise of disgust, although Taylor thought there was just a hint of shame mixed into it, a touch of regret.

"The Lord of Iron. Bitter and vicious, but I did not expect him to turn. For all his boasting Perturabo was servile in the end. All his complaints, all his curses, and yet when Horus told him to jump he merely asked how high. He had more in common with Dorn than he would admit, and where did it get him? I felt his mind, during the Siege of Terra. When the Emperor's Children were consumed by their dark pleasures, when the Death Guard were falling to the Grandfather, when the Thousand Sons were being twisted and torn by the Flesh Change, when the World Eaters were frothing maniacs only good for being pointed in a direction and told to kill. When Perturabo had only his own Iron Warriors and the collapsing Sons of Horus to take the Palace and he knew despair."

There was another flash of disgust.

"Did you know – Angron said to Russ, once, that he could have been a better man. That, had it not been for the Nails, he would have ascended the steps to the Imperial Palace and taken 'that slaving bastard's' head. He was ever weak. For all his boasting of being unashamed of himself, all his pretty words, Angron made excuse after excuse. The pain from the Nails would not stop him to attacking me. He claimed to crave death, and yet…"

'And yet he served, just as all the others did.'

"Yes. But we are not talking of the Primarchs and my failures – we are talking of Luna."

'Potentially my failure.'

Taylor reached up, pinching the bridge of her nose in thought. The problem was…the problem was that Luna would be useful. Even if she wasn't as powerful as Taylor herself, she'd be close. She had the knowledge to use that power effectively, the knowledge of technology that would increase the speed of working on everything. She would, in essence, double Taylor's resources. But could she be trusted?

"Ask yourself – can you be trusted? Luna is your clone, after all."

'The Primarchs were yours. But you've got a point. She doesn't have a different upbringing like they did, and she hasn't been around that long. The main difference between us seems to be that she lacks, well, a conscience. But how was that caused? If it was brain damage…'

"Her Perpetual healing could have, theoretically, repaired her. There are psychopathic Perpetuals, but you aren't one of them so she shouldn't be either. We need to see her, meet her, take her measure. Only then can we make a choice."

'Boston, then.'

"Boston. You should find a contact who can disguise your presence there, in case we do decide to work with Luna. Better to conceal any agreement until we must reveal it."

'Seems we've a trip to take, then. I wonder if Tattletale will be willing, given that she'll need to make contact with Accord at some point. Otherwise, we might have to start that whole Knight Errant thing a little earlier than we'd planned.'

The sword first, then. Taylor ran a hand over the steel, making sure that it was cool, and lifted it again. The psi-convector made an intricate pattern up the centre of the blade, strands twisting together in a complex dance. She could feel the strength there, waiting for her to awaken it – hilt and guard first, though. She already made the guard, brass etched with innumerable tiny runes of strength and longevity, and she fitted it into place with care, pinning it, pulling at it to make sure it was firmly in place. She didn't attach the guard to the bottom of the tang: the apple-wood handle, similarly covered in runes, was fastened into place first. After that, finally, the guard, the pommel following, carefully screwed into place. Taylor took the sword by the blade, just under the guard, and lifted it, her right hand coming over to grip the hilt. It wasn't sharp, not yet, but as she turned it over, lifted it in her hand…it felt just a little off. Taylor frowned at the sword, weighed it in her hand. It was perfect, and yet…she shrugged it off. Premonitions, they were never reliable.

"Test the balance," the Emperor advised, "Get a feel for it."

Good advice and Taylor rolled her shoulder, flexed her wrist before lunging, a stamping forwards motion with the sword extended, a thrust to an imaginary chest. Cut downwards, a rising backhanded slash towards a second, convert it into a second thrust to her left, into a slicing motion back across and Taylor pulled the sword back, bringing it briefly into a salute position before her face and sweeping it down. Balanced towards the cut, as it should be, but easy to thrust with. Yes, she'd done it right. She shifted her grip, checking that the handle was secure, before pouring her power into the sword.

It wasn't like the last time she'd done this, with that katana that had broken under the power. It wasn't even like her staff: though her staff could withstand her strength she had to be careful, had to shape the raw energy into a blade. With this, the psi-convector did all the work. Her strength flowed through the blade, through the patterns, threads of power tangling and combining around the blade until it shimmered, the faintest translucent glow around the blade. Ethereal. Taylor gestured at a slab of metal, steel, and it came rushing towards her. She met it with the edge of her sword and the steel was sliced like it was paper, clattering to the ground with a discordant clangour.

Taylor smiled, calling a whetstone into her hand and sinking slowly into a seat as she let the power fade away. Yes, that would do. Now she just needed a way to get to Boston with relative subtlety. At least Tattletale owed her, she thought.

Taylor at least had the courtesy to call ahead before she dropped in on Tattletale's base, but it looked like Tattletale hadn't extended the same to her guards. At least, that was what Taylor suspected from the way the man at the office door screeched and threw himself back when she stepped out of the Warp and into reality. He did retain the presence of mind not to open fire with his rifle, although Taylor wasn't sure how much of that was discipline and how much was the rifle being leaned against the wall, away from his hand.

"Hello there," Taylor said mildly, "I'm here to see your boss. She in?"

The man stared at her – Taylor was fairly sure that he was mouthing wordlessly under his helmet – and she sighed. Tattletale was in, she could tell, and she had company – but Taylor was pretty sure she wouldn't mind more. She breezed past the man, shoving open the door and strolling in.

"Circ," Tattletale said, looking up from her desk, "Do you have to terrify my staff like that? I'm supposed to be the one doing that."

Taylor grinned.

"Gotta keep them on their toes," she said cheerfully, "Can't help but notice you don't seem surprised."

Tattletale smiled slightly, no commenting, and Taylor glanced at the other person in the room. He was a good looking man, Latino, with slicked back black hair and a distinct lack of emotion other than amusement in his soul. An amoral man, Taylor thought.

"Quin Calle," he said, "Criminal lawyer."

"Criminal lawyer? Isn't that redundant?"

Calle laughed at her joke like he hadn't heard it a hundred times before, so Taylor reckoned he probably wasn't too bad. Still.

"Planning something that needs a lawyer, Tee-Tee?" she asked, pulling out a chair and sitting. She noticed that Tattletale's eyes lingered on her sword as she moved it to sit, but the woman said nothing about it.

"You know how these things go," Tattletale said, "You take over a criminal organisation, you look through the manifests and you find some distinctly unsavoury people. I'm not a delicate girl, but employing an unrepentant sex offender is a little over the line for me. I've no idea why Coil kept him on."

Hmm. Someone was probably going to be wearing a pair of concrete shoes fairly soon.

"Easy to blackmail, maybe?" she suggested. Tattletale shrugged.

"Sure, but he wasn't exactly the cream of the crop. I'm wondering if he had some dirt on Coil – or if Coil just didn't care. Probably the second one, sick bastard. But you aren't here to talk about me cleaning up my organisation, right?"

Taylor didn't say anything and Tattletale nodded.

"Right," she said, more quietly, "Quin. Sorry to cut our chat short…"

"Oh, not a worry," Calle said, "We were almost done, anyway. You have my number, Miss Tattletale, call me whenever you like. Circaetus, a pleasure to meet the city maverick. Please, remember me if you ever need a good lawyer."

"Charmed," Taylor said, inclining her head to him as he walked out. She looked back to Tattletale, who had raised an eyebrow.

"Always out for another client," she said, "Good lawyer though. Specialises in Parahuman Law. Have to know that sort of thing, especially with Canary in my employ."

"For all the good it'll do," Taylor said, "Seems to me like the spirit of the law is pretty fully violated in her case."

"Not in mine, though," Tattletale said, "Much as I'd like to help her, I have to look out for myself too. Calle is very well versed in, you know. Loopholes, dirty dealings, that sort of thing."

"You already said he's a lawyer," Taylor reminded her, "You don't have to repeat it. He's good at his job, then?"

"Superb," Tattletale said, "Or so I'm told. But you didn't come here to make small talk about my legal issues, right?"

"Sadly not," Taylor said, "I've a favour to ask, actually. I need to make my way over to Boston, fairly soon, and I want to do it under the radar, so to speak. If I go on my own or with someone else questions might be asked, so I thought you could provide a nice excuse."

"Boston?" Tattletale mused, "Not a bad place. I'd been thinking of going there, since I need to talk to Accord about the deal he made with Coil and whether it'll be honoured or not, but I wouldn't expect you to need to go there. What's there for you?"

Taylor met Tattletale's gaze, wondering. She could tell a lie, of course, and it would maybe be accepted – but was it fair to do that? Luna had hunted Tattletale, on that dark day that felt so long ago now. Was Taylor really willing to risk springing that on someone who had been a useful ally so far – a useful ally, and maybe a friend?

No. No, better to lay her cards on the table for this one. Besides, in the vanishingly unlikely situation that she needed backup, Tattletale would be her only real option. Well, there was the Boston Protectorate, but Taylor would much prefer they didn't get involved. Letting the cat out of the bag regarding the whole Psyker thing could cause trouble.

"Okay," Taylor said, "In the interest of fair play."

Tattletale cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing, and Taylor sighed.

"Luna's going to be there."

Tattletale had a good poker face. Taylor could have still seen her reaction – her nostrils flared a fraction, her lips compressed, her eyes widened the slightest amount – but it was nothing compared to the bolt of fear and horror that burst through Tattletale, like a firework in a moonless sky, lemon-sharp on Taylor's tongue. She didn't grimace, waiting until Tattletale got control of herself. Until she wrapped the fear up and boxed it down, until she closed her eyes for a long second before speaking.

"Luna," she said, "Your clone, Luna. Your murderous clone, Luna. Your murderous clone, Luna, who killed Regent and Browbeat, hospitalised a number of people and tortured some more, who has gone to Wichita and declared war on the Fallen. That Luna."

"That Luna, yes," Taylor confirmed quietly. A muscle jumped in Tattletale's left eyelid.

"How do you know she'll be there?" she asked, her voice dangerously level. Taylor scratched her chin, grimacing – she didn't do Tattletale the injustice of giving her the 'you wouldn't believe me if I told you' spiel.

"Luna and I…we share a bond, you could say," Taylor said, smiling wanly, "She's recently, how do I put it…she's recently come into her own, power wise."

Tattletale squinted at her and paled as Taylor lifted a hand, silvery-blue flames licking briefly over her fingers.

"It was a precognition – a shared vision of the two of us confronting each other, in Boston. Soon," Taylor continued, "So I need a fairly low-key way of getting there, and an excuse to be there."

"And if Luna isn't there? If she saw this vision as well and decided not to go?"

Taylor smiled faintly.

"One often finds their destiny on the path they take to avoid it," she quoted, "She'll be there. We both know better than to try to avoid it. Besides, I think she still hopes that she can, well, get me on her side. Persuade me to join her – or to let her join me."

"Join you?" Tattletale hissed, her fist clenching, "Are you mad? She's a maniac! She's a remorseless killer!"

Taylor looked away from Tattletale's gaze, closing her eyes in a slow blink before sighing.

"I like to think I'm not mad," she said quietly, "And I think Luna might not be, either. When she was first…born, for what of a better term, she was remorseless. Brutal. Conscienceless. But even then, she didn't act without purpose."

Tattletale stared at her, her mouth working soundlessly as though her power had failed her. Taylor sighed.

"The two stand-outs from that night are Regent and Browbeat," she said, "Because, if I'm completely honest, the other people she killed? I'd thought about killing them. Panacea? She's rubbed me the wrong way since we met. Vista? Luna was making a point. You? Well…when you were running from her, did you know where you were going?"

"I…yes. I knew," Tattletale said, grimacing. Taylor nodded, sympathy twisting in her chest.

"Of course you did," she said quietly, "She knew that you would. She wanted to make a point to me, make me feel helpless, so she needed to eliminate as much of the hero presence as possible. And to find them…"

"She used me, I know," Tattletale croaked, her confident exterior bleeding away, "She killed Browbeat, but I led her to him. I led her to them all, because I couldn't – because I wasn't…"

Taylor sighed.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, "She would have found them eventually. She killed Regent and beat down Grue to make you run. And maybe she's the same person, just as mad. But maybe it was a side-effect of Noelle. Maybe she's become less insane, maybe she's become more like me. In that case, she could be invaluable. I'm not asking you to forgive her, or trust her."

"Only to trust you," Tattletale said, vulnerability vanished back under a hard expression, "But can I trust you? What if you meet her and she's not as sane as you hope? What if she's as vicious as she was, then?"

Taylor touched the hilt of her sword.

"Then she won't walk away. Whatever power she's gained…it won't be enough. I won't let it be."

Tattletale went very still, closing her eyes. Taylor waited silently, feeling time slip away, until Tattletale opened her eyes again and gave her a very intense look.

"Two days," she said. Taylor tilted her head and Tattletale nodded to her.

"I've trusted you before," she said, "I'll do it again. I need two days to get things set up and make contact with Accord. After that? I'll take you to Boston, and to your damn clone."

Taylor opened her mouth, but Tattletale lifted a hand.

"Don't thank me," she said softly, "Not for this. You're right, if she's as strong as you are she could be valuable. Beyond valuable. But mad or not, I can't forgive her for what she did."

Taylor nodded silently, rising to her feet and turning her back. After all, what was there to say to that?

Tattletale was quiet, on the way to Boston. Taylor didn't blame her: even being in the same city as Luna must be stressful, never mind knowing that Luna had powers similar to Taylor. And Luna was there, Taylor could feel her, a lantern shining in the murk of the Warp. Taylor had wound back her strength, calling on memories of the Emperor to veil her power, but she left enough shining that Luna would know she was there. Her clone wouldn't run. Not now. Taylor wore her white armour, rather than the power armour: it was important, though she didn't know why. Her vision, she supposed. The car they had taken slowed to a crunching halt and Tattletale sighed as they got out. The car had come to a halt in an underground car park, the air coldly damp and the lights dim. Taylor pressed her power outwards for a moment, checking for any enemies. Nothing. Just her, Tattletale and Grue, who had been driving.

"Boston," she said quietly, "Do you know who you're looking for?"

Taylor nodded.

"Blasto," she said, "It'll be near there. I know it. Just need to find his lab."

"Hmm," Tattletale murmured, "Accord should know where Blasto's located, they've got a sort of passive rivalry thing going on. Come with me to see Accord: we'll make small talk, get the location out of him, then I can stay and talk while you go looking."

Taylor glanced at Tattletale: her expression was wry, with a resigned glint in her eyes. Taylor nodded.

"Alright. You want me to try to be intimidating, or…"

Tattletale snorted faintly.

"I'd tell you to be yourself, but you'd probably start a fight with Accord. He's got some strange hang-ups about order, things being out of place, like a super-powered OCD, so be polite? The fact that you're there at all should be intimidation enough."

"He sounds like an interesting man."

'A dangerous one. There was something a few years back, the Boston Games I think they called it, where the city underworld pretty much entered a civil war after the PRT and Protectorate arrested a lot of the top players. Accord came out on top for a reason.'

"Ah, the inspiration for placing Tattletale into the power gap yourself?"

'Something like that. Apparently the Teeth have a cell here, too. I wonder what they're up to, now?'

"Perhaps you and Luna can investigate, as a bonding exercise."

The sarcasm in the Emperor's tone was thicker than mud, but Taylor ignored it.

'Keep my mind on the present, right.'

Taylor yawned widely, her jaw cracking, before putting her helmet on. She fastened it into place, turning her head left and right to make sure that it was properly in place, before looking back to Tattletale.

"Ready?" Tattletale asked. Grue nodded, stretching his arms – he wore the same costume as he had done when he was the leader of the Undersiders, but Taylor suspected it was significantly higher quality than it had been previously. The benefits of being the trusted lieutenant of a crime lord, she thought. She felt the presence of a new arrival before they ever opened the door: Taylor looked across, her eyes piercing easily through the dimness to see a section of wall slide back. Magnificent workmanship: if she hadn't seen it move with her own eyes she would never have suspected there was a door there. A single man emerged from it, dressed in a sharply tailored formal suit with an intricately crafted black and brown mask covering his face. His buttons, Taylor noted, were made of black and brown crystals.

"Miss Tattletale?" he asked, accent cultured. Tattletale inclined her head.

"And company," she said pleasantly, "You are…Cassiterite, yes?"

"I have the honour to be that Ambassador, yes," he confirmed, the mask shifting to reflect a slight smile.

"Remarkable work," the Emperor mused, "A little delicate for my tastes, but no doubt Fulgrim would have liked it. To make a mask that conforms well enough to reflect the facial expressions of the wearer is quite a thing."

'Far too fancy for me, and too close fitting. Give me a good helmet any day of the week.'

"How drab you are, successor mine. Although I confess, I always found it odd when warriors wore masks with faces on them. Stylised, perhaps, but the Sanguinius mask the Blood Angels had? That would have been unnerving, had I been alive to be unnerved. I wonder who made the mask our guide wears?"

Taylor didn't reply: Cassiterite – and wasn't that a mouthful, Taylor thought with only a little hypocrisy – had bowed dramatically by the doorway.

"If you will follow me, ladies and gentleman, Accord awaits."

Cassiterite led them through the door, Tattletale at the front with Grue just slightly behind her right shoulder and Taylor mirroring him on her right. Taylor briefly considered speeding up, just to make clear that she wasn't a subordinate, but didn't bother in the end. Accord could think what he liked: anyone who knew her history would know it anyway. She did note that there wasn't a man to close the door: it hissed shut with the soft whisper of electronics. They ascended a flight of stairs and through another well-hidden door, entering an entirely different area. To Taylor it resembled nothing so much as an old-fashioned manor house: richly carpeted, wood-panelled walls, warm and clean. Tattletale looked around with interest – Taylor could almost hear her wondering how much it would cost to have her own lair decorated in similar fashion.

"A residence," Cassiterite said, "Master Accord thought it best to meet with you in a more palatial setting."

Personally, Taylor quite liked it. Wealthy, but comparatively subdued. There was a part of her that still considered the austere setting of her own lair superior, however.

"A warrior part," the Emperor dryly commented, "The part that would rather be on campaign. And a part of you, I think, wishes for gold and silver on the walls, and the trophies of victory."

'A small part, that one. Gold is very cold.'

"Hmm, perhaps."

Taylor glanced ahead of them – not far now, she thought. She could feel two more people in the room they were approaching: one quiet, coiled preparation and the other working, working, steel cogs ticking away. That one was Accord, she guessed: Tattletale had said he was a Thinker, and a perfectionist. A dangerous combination, especially given that two of the three of them were dangerously irreverent at the best of times.

"My apologies," Cassiterite said, "But I must insist you relinquish your weapons before you meet Accord. This way, Ladies, gentleman."

Cassiterite veered off into a small room, just before the door where Accord waited. Inside there were weapon racks and stands and Taylor eyed them with interest.

"You know, the PRT does the same thing," she said, "It's a trust exercise, right?"

Cassiterite turned to her, his mask not shifting expression. An excellent poker face even under the steel, but Taylor could feel his bafflement in his emotions.

"We're Parahumans," Taylor explained, "Weapons, for most of us, are secondary. Not all of us – but does putting down my weapons really make me that much less dangerous? Does it make Grue less dangerous? You'd have to tape Tattletale's mouth shut to make her less dangerous. But putting our weapons down is symbolic, it indicates that we're willing to keep the peace. Right?"

"Right," Tattletale cheerfully agreed, producing a pistol and laying it down on a table. Taylor nodded, unhooking her sheathed sword from her belt and setting it reverently on a rack. Grue put down an extending baton and a knife, returning to standing silently.

"So we put our weapons down," Taylor continued, "And we trust that it's reciprocated. I'm not going to talk about honour, because we all know it's not honour. It's because the rules of war are enforced by reprisal. Accord doesn't attack us, we don't attack him, because if either of us breaks that unspoken pact then…well, that's when it gets nasty. Right?"

Taylor slid a knife from her boot and set it next to her sword, laying down her rebuilt las-pistol next.

"Food for thought," she said cheerily, "Food for thought. And now that none of us are technically armed, and I've gotten at least a couple of smart remarks out of myself rather than throwing them at your boss, should we continue?"

"Yes," Cassiterite said, "I rather think we should. This way, please."

He made his way out of the room again – Tattletale paused long enough to lean in towards Taylor and speak softly.

"I'll try to get you on your way as quickly as possible," she murmured, "But yes, please try not to make an enemy of Accord. He's a bad man to have against you, if half of what I've heard is true. If something goes wrong…"

"I'll get you both out," Taylor murmured in reply, "It's not far to teleport."

Tattletale looked green for a moment at the mention of teleporting, but then she took a deep breath and straightened her back.

"Time to face the music, then," she muttered. Taylor followed as Tattletale strode out of the room and towards the door that Cassiterite was now standing next to, taking up her position between Taylor and Grue, and Cassiterite swung the door open and bowed theatrically.

"Miss Tattletale," he said, "Accord."

Accord was seated behind a desk, white suit, his mask rich wood and smooth silver and articulated like Cassiterite's. Well, Taylor was no-one to accuse him of pageantry, not while she wore her white and gold armour, the coat overlaying it intentionally tattered along the hem, juxtaposing the extravagance against the reminder that she fought, and fought well. Accord's outfit gave a different message: he was in control here, that was what it said. He was a small man: hard to tell when someone was sitting down, but Taylor estimated that he might be smaller than Tattletale – comparing him to herself was sort of pointless, given that she'd always been tall and only gotten larger over time.

The woman to Accord's right was slightly more imposing, but only just. Slender, pretty, maybe a little taller than Tattletale, dressed in a yellow ballgown and masquerade mask, both studded with yellow gems in places. Not exactly a costume well suited for combat, Taylor thought, but maybe her power made up for it – Tattletale had told her about this woman. Citrine, who led Accord's Ambassadors: her mind was cool, calculating. Professional.

"Tattletale. Grue. And your Hero associate, Circaetus," Accord said. His voice was cold, high pitched. It suited him. Taylor studied the patterns of his thoughts: they were bizarre. Structured, in an unnatural way: his power, she thought.

'Don't know if I consider ultimate OCD a power, though.'

"More of a weakness, I think. Coils within coils, fleas upon fleas…"

'Idiots begetting idiots. He's dangerous.'

"Yes. I think he would be little threat in combat, but outside of it he could prove a nuisance. And we do not need any more enemies."

'I'll be polite.'

Taylor closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. Shortly after their shared vision Luna's light had dimmed and so had the two lights near to her, darkening in a way Taylor recognised as someone hiding them. It made them harder to track, but not impossible: they were near. Taylor couldn't get a precise location, but all three were close by, in the city. Reckless, maybe, for Luna to bring her two pet Psykers. Then again, if Luna died, what could they do alone? Better to keep them with her. Accord and Tattletale had exchanged brief, polite greetings and Taylor inclined her head when he turned to her.

"Accord," she said mildly, "Thank you for meeting with us."

Polite enough, without being subservient. He would have to make do. Accord stared at her for a few heartbeats before inclining his head in return.

"Circaetus," he said, "I confess, I'm not pleased to see you in my city. You cause upheaval, disorder. I dislike disorder. I dislike chaos."

"A man after my own heart," the Emperor said, his tone distinctly mocking. Taylor rolled her eyes, unseen. Chaos and chaos were very different things. Accord continued to speak.

"Do you know how I came to power, Circaetus? It was in the aftermath of the PRT arresting many of the criminal groups in this city. There was upheaval. Fighting, struggling, factions vying for power. It was unpleasant. I suspected you would bring the same to your own city. And yet. In supporting Tattletale, you have perhaps avoided that. You are interesting, Circaetus, which is why I agreed to meet with you."

"I'm flattered," Taylor said, her mouth working faster than her brain. She felt a flash of irritation pulse through Accord, but he didn't say anything about it.

"I'm sure you are. I doubt, however, that Tattletale brought you along only as an implied threat."

Taylor glanced at Tattletale, who shrugged and waved her forwards. Accord was still watching them, suspicious. Taylor took a step forwards, ignoring the way Citrine tensed slightly.

"She didn't, no," Taylor said, "I asked to be brought along. Are you aware of the existence of my clone, Luna?"

"I have heard of her."

"I've had reliable news, from a pre-cognitive, that she's in this city at this very moment."

No need to mention that she was the pre-cog, and Accord had gone very still. Luna's reputation preceded her, it seemed. The shutters on Accord's mask, over the eyes, flicked shut with a soft whisper of metal on metal. Very fine workmanship.

"I see," Accord said softly, "You've come here to chase her down, then? I cannot have you trampling across my city in pursuit."

Taylor spread her hands affably.

"I know where she'll be," she said, "The vision provided that much. She'll be meeting with Blasto, for some reason. I'm given to understand that you know where his laboratory is?"

Accord clenched a single fist for a long moment before he slowly unravelled his fingers. The shutters clicked again, whisper soft.

"Blasto," he said, his voice tight with irritation, "Is an irreverent, inefficient, reckless aggravation. The only reason I allow him to remain in my city is because it is better than driving him out and risking him doing something especially foolish. It is unsurprising, then, that your clone would choose him. He is desperate to prove himself, after his Woad Giant was destroyed in such embarrassing fashion."

Accord paused, his fingers flexing again as though they were wrapped around an invisible throat. Taylor watched, interested, as he managed to reel back his anger and crush it down – she glanced at Tattletale and saw the interest gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes," Accord said softly, "Blasto would be foolish enough to work with your clone. You want directions to his laboratory, so you can confront her?"

Taylor imagined Accord's cold eyes glaring out at her, their gazes unable to meet through the mask and the helmet. She inclined her head, slowly.

"If you are willing."

Accord nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I would prefer this be dealt with quickly, with the minimum of fuss and risk. Tattletale. You brought Circaetus as your bodyguard, did you not? Are you willing to allow her to leave? I will, of course, guarantee your safety until Circaetus returns."

"Circaetus forewarned me that this might happen," Tattletale said, still unusually formal, "I'm willing to allow it. We have more of a partnership than a subordinate relationship, in any case."

"Indeed," Accord said, unmoving, "Return afterwards, Circaetus. I may have use of your Protectorate contacts for some plans. At the very least, they will have to consider them if you hand them over. Cassiterite will show you to Blasto."

Taylor inclined her head in a respectful nod and turned on her heel, looking at Tattletale. Tattletale gave her the faintest wink, just as Taylor's bulk concealed her from Accord.

"I'll play nice," she murmured, "Have fun."

"You too."

Taylor continued to the door, her bootsteps sounding loud in the silence, and hoped that Tattletale wouldn't do anything to get herself into trouble. She knew what she was doing, Taylor consoled herself.

If only Taylor knew what she was doing, herself.

"Come on then, Cassiterite," Taylor said once they were out of the room, the door sliding silently shut behind her, "I haven't got all day."

Blasto's lab was about what Taylor had expected: an abandoned apartment building. Apparently it connected to some nearby warehouses, if Cassiterite was to be believed, but it seemed ramshackle at best. Still, her workshop was the basement of an empty house, so she didn't have a leg to stand on.

"So he's in there?" Taylor said, looking at Cassiterite. The man nodded stiffly.

"Yes," he said, "He rarely leaves. Enter through the front door, there's a Tinker camera that he can see through. From there it's up to you to gain entry."

"Much appreciated," Taylor said, "You can head back to Accord. I'll make my own way back."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, thank you," Taylor said, already walking. She reached the front door of the apartment complex and leaned down, studying the handle. Locked, although that made little difference to her: Taylor lifted her hand, worming telekinetic tendrils into the lock and unlocking it, pushing open the door.

"Anyone home?" she called as she strolled in. She took a deep breath, her helmet not filtering the air like her power armour: the building smelled of plants, with just a hint of decay, and a faint whiff of marijuana. Taylor tilted her head, looking around and seeing movement in the shadows about a second door: a plant, with a blinking eye in the centre. A very simple eye, more animal than human, but an eye nonetheless.

"Hello there," Taylor said, "Blasto. My name's Circaetus, and unless I've very much underestimated my clone you should be expecting me."

The eye-stalk thing moved in a way that made Taylor's gut stir uneasily – too much like something born of Chaos for her liking – and a heavy clunk sounded from the door. She pushed it open, metal moving only a little grudgingly, and walked it. The walls had almost all been knocked down, reduced as much as possible to create more room. Dingy, but clean, and there was a call from across the room. Taylor walked over, past scattered tables and medical equipment, and found the master of the house himself.

Blasto was a lean man, average height, dark haired and stubbled. Handsome enough, in a roguish way, although he was probably only a meal or two away from looking underfed. There was a plant monster standing placidly next to him, and a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he breathed out. It washed over Taylor, the strong source of the marijuana smell, and Taylor erected a barrier to keep it away with a thought. Her augments would filter it without an issue, but she didn't really want to walk around smelling like weed. It made it harder to be intimidating.

"Circaetus, right? Your clone told me, yeah. Said you'd be visiting. Dressed kinda like you, too."

"These things do happen," Taylor confirmed. Blasto nodded.

"They sure do," he agreed, "Anyway, before you start beating me to try to get answers to explode out or something, she's waiting for you. Paid me to tell you, and guide you. So, uh, no fighting. With me. You've got a rep, you see?"

"I do see," Taylor said, "Came up with it myself, in fact."

Blasto, still reclined on his sofa, nodded and held out the joint as though he'd only just realised it was there.

"You want some? My own blend, smooth and strong."

"Appreciate the offer," Taylor said, "But I'll need all my wits for what's coming next."

"Huh," Blasto said, "Déjà vu. Shambler over there'll take you down to the basement, and through the tunnel to your clone. Try not to break the whole place up, please?"

"Do my best," Taylor said. Shambler was a sort of roughly humanoid plant thing, and Taylor followed it with a modicum of caution, away from the relaxed Tinker. Actually, maybe the only relaxed Tinker she'd ever met: Kid Win was nice but sort of ADHD, Chariot, prior to getting splattered by Leviathan, had been twitchy to an almost neurotic level. Squealer had been an addict, Armsmaster was Armsmaster, and she hadn't actually met Dragon face to face. Taylor briefly imagined a stoned Armsmaster and snorted to herself. It might improve him, come to think of it: Taylor didn't dislike Armsmaster but she had to say, he was so tightly wound that if he ate a nail he'd probably shit a screw.

"What a charming image."

'What can I say, I've a way with words.'

Taylor followed Shambler down two flights of steps, into a basement that looked like something from a horror film. The creature – it had a rudimentary intelligence, Taylor could feel, which was somewhat unnerving – led her to a door. It opened the door, sliding upwards, and gestured to the tunnel beyond.

"Luna's down there?" Taylor said, trying to translate the charades. Shambler nodded enthusiastically – it had no mouth, Taylor noticed, although it didn't seem to need to scream. It pantomimed walking and closing doors and Taylor frowned.

"You want me to walk down the corridor and close the doors as I go?"

More enthusiastic nodding. Taylor nodded.

"This is another person telling me not to cause too much damage, isn't it?"

That got her a thumbs up and she sighed.

"Alright then. Thank you for the escort," she said, setting off into the tunnel. It was pretty long, but her steady stride ate up the distance as she went, closing the doors behind her with flickers of power. Her own strength was still muffled, veiled, but she could feel something ahead. A flickering flame, hidden, like a candle covered by a cupping palm. Taylor reached down and half drew her sword, loosening it in the scabbard. Just in case, she thought as the tunnel turned into a slope, running upwards until she reached one final door.

"Well then," she said, "Let's be about it."

She opened the door with a flick of her hand and stepped out, face to face with her clone at last.

"Taylor," Luna said, standing proud and unafraid. Taylor studied her. They were the same height, same build. Luna's armour was almost identical to Taylor's: the build was the same, but Luna's was gleaming black where Taylor wore shining white. Luna didn't wear a coat, either: a grey cape hung from her shoulders, the hood down but visible from the bunching folds. She was unarmed, as far as Taylor could see.

"Luna," she acknowledged, "Hiding your strength?"

A faint laugh from her clone, just as it might have come from Taylor herself, so alike that for a moment she was disorientated.

"A courtesy, to spare the children. But since it's just the two of us…"

Luna sighed out a lingering breath, the veil fading, and her power blossomed in the Warp. Taylor watched it, drinking it in, and let her own strength loose, just enough to match it. A cold wind ruffled Luna's cloak, the Warp stirring in their presence and Taylor looked to the edges of Luna's power, silver-white splintering into a spectrum of colours.

"Shining," Luna said, "Like a rainbow in the dark."

She rolled her shoulders.

"Feels good to let it loose."

"Down too long in the midnight sea?" Taylor asked, deadpan, and Luna chuckled.

"Well, if you want a comparison for the Warp, it's not the worst."

"I prefer Poe. The way below winds deeper, longer, unspeakable its patterns laid..."

"The lost forever damned to wander, this thing a quiet madness made," Luna completed, "A quiet madness…well, that's one thing. Surprised that you haven't drawn that sword yet, though. We didn't exactly part of the most pleasant of terms."

"Would you like me to? I would have, once. But I like to think I've grown wiser, over time. And you?"

Luna half turned, looking into the darkness of the cavernous room that surrounded them. When she turned back there was something like relief in her body language.

"Honestly, I was hoping we could chat for a while. It's been a long time, you know? I mean, since you left me dead in the streets I've started a criminal organisation slash cult slash, uh, revolutionary front, you've fought an Endbringer and destroyed the Empire Eighty-Eight and the Teeth and defeated Lung and we've both killed people. A bunch of people."

"You're leading," Taylor specified, lifting one finger.

"In – oh, right. In numbers. Yeah, I think so. Still. Without all the jokes, the attempts at clever puns and references… how's it hanging, Taylor?"

There were probably a lot of glib replies she could make to that, but none of them felt right in her mouth. Instead, Taylor sighed.

"Better than it has been," she admitted, "Not ideal. The future…"

"The Parasite," Luna agreed, "Should we walk? If we're going to come to blows at any point, better to do it somewhere else."

Taylor nodded and fell into step with her clone. It was oddly comfortable, she realised, walking alongside someone who was so very close to being her equal. But could she really partner with Luna? It could have repercussions. She didn't much care about the enmity of the Fallen, but Regent and Browbeat mattered somewhat more.

More than what Luna could offer, though? Taylor couldn't say.

"I take it that you've had a good time with the Fallen, then?" Taylor asked, to break the silence. Luna chortled, a quicksilver flash of amusement in her emotions.

"Oh, yes. Only been dealing with the McVeay's so far, but I've got them on the run. And the rest…their time will come. Some of them are scattered, you know."

"Oh, I know," Taylor grimly said. Luna turned her head and Taylor elaborated.

"Valefor and Eligos came to the Bay, kidnapped Dad. Didn't go well for them."

Luna hummed.

"How well is not well?" she asked curiously. Taylor smiled slightly.

"Killed Eligos outright. Valefor wanted to know what made me who I am, so I showed him."

She pressed a sliver of power towards Luna, a splinter of the impressions she'd piled onto Valefor, and Luna winced.

"I take it he didn't do so well?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Went mad in an instant. It was a mercy to stop his heart. Which makes me wonder, Luna."

Luna stepped back, reaching a doorway, and Taylor stopped walking. She didn't really want to start a fight, not now, but some things had to be said.

"Do you really think it's a good idea, going down this path?" she asked, "You know how it could end. You know how it did end, before. Did you even think that those Psykers you've made, they could have seen something they couldn't deal with. They could have gone mad, they could have died, they could have called out to something...monstrous."

Luna shook her head.

"You think too small and too cautious, Taylor. Don't you see – the War In Heaven didn't happen here. The Warp is quiet, safe, we can reach heights undreamed of - there was very little danger, and I was careful. I knew the risks. I thought them worthwhile."

"Did you," Taylor said, her voice quiet, "Because you haven't seemed that way before. You bet a lot on this working, Luna."

Luna shrugged.

"Maybe," she agreed, "But we both know that it was inevitable anyway. Your very existence opens the floodgates, Taylor. Humanity's ascension to a Psyker species was begun the moment you first touched the Immaterium, I'm only making it faster. I have the proof that it will work on a small scale. Now I – we – simply need to make it larger. You know it will help, so long as it works. This is the destiny of Humanity. All we have to do is reach out and take it."

Taylor didn't grimace, but she wanted to.

'I hate it when people I'm supposed to fight make sense. What happened to just punching Nazis? I miss those days already.'

"At least she is monologuing her plan away. She must get that from you."

'Yeah, because you've never been arrogant in your life.'

Luna retreated into the darkness beyond the doorway, her cloak swirling briefly. Taylor felt power enfold Luna, lifting her and carrying her up and back, and as she advanced into what she guessed was a warehouse there was another flare of power and lights clunked on, buzzing heavily.

Luna stood atop an exposed landing, at the peak of a flight of stairs, and two others stepped from the shadows to join her. One was a woman, her expression hard and determined, dressed in armour similar to Luna. The second was a man, a smile fixed onto his face. He too wore armour. Taylor idly considered making a concubine joke – they were both pretty enough – but discarded it as pointless. She could already tell it wasn't true – they both had the tang of Psyker strength about them, despite their lights being hidden by Luna's strength.

"Three of you and one of me," Taylor said, looking up at Luna and her companions, "I should have brought some friends, then it'd really be a party. Won't you introduce us?"

Luna made a gesture, as though she'd forgotten.

"Oh, of course. Forgetting my manners. These are Cynthia June, my first Lieutenant, and Alastor McVeay, my second."

June didn't react, her eyes narrowed on Taylor, but McVeay offered a bow that was almost courtly. Taylor inclined her head to them.

"Charmed," she said, "I'd wondered how you'd done so well against the Fallen. Suborning one of them? Very slick."

Luna spread her hands, clearly pleased with herself.

"I thought so too."

Taylor ran her eyes over them, thoughtful.

"Not just your Lieutenants, though. They're both Psykers. Your first Psykers. Your test subjects."

Alastor frowned and Cynthia's lip curled just a little, Luna seeming entirely unruffled.

"Yes, the first of many. I like to think of it as giving evolution a hand – you aren't jealous, are you?"

"Jealous? I hadn't thought of it, I'll give you that."

Taylor walked a few steps further into the room, spreading out her senses to make sure that there wasn't anyone else present. It was empty, except for them. Planned, Taylor thought, just as Luna had planned bringing her Lieutenants. She still had something of a role to play, however.

"I could stop you," Taylor said slowly, testing the words on her tongue, "You're the most important part of the plan. Even if you left behind instructions, nobody else could carry them out. If the three of you die here, so does your plan. Even if your Lieutenants live, can they replicate what you did with them? I don't think so."

Luna's lieutenants stiffened, the smile leaving McVeay's face, and Taylor felt them reach into the Warp for strength, their burgeoning power filling the air, static against her skin. Their defiance pressed against her and she spread her wings, unveiling a fraction of the might at her disposal and returning the favour: they both went white before Luna stepped forwards and her own strength forced Taylor's back, an uneasy stalemate.

"You could," Luna agreed, "But you won't. Because you're interested in what I have to say. And because you've already seen the benefits."

A wave of Luna's hand and her lieutenants withdrew into themselves, power withdrawn behind their skin. Taylor pulled her own strength back, having taken measure of the three: strong, especially the two lieutenants – for fresh Psykers they were formidable – but nowhere near strong enough to defeat her, even together.

"Your points earlier," Taylor said, inclining her head. Luna nodded.

"Did they convince you?"

"I'm a hard girl to convince," Taylor dryly said, "But I see your points."

And, in all truth, Taylor hadn't needed much convincing. She'd already been thinking things similar to what Luna voiced: maybe not surprising. They were the same in many ways, after all. McVeay stirred and Luna patted him on the shoulder, strolling forward to the very edge of the stairs.

"This is the thing that I haven't really told you, about Taylor," Luna said, addressing her Lieutenants as thought Taylor wasn't present, "She's surprisingly moral. Oh, she wants to be the fairytale hero, all unyielding purpose and undoubting morality and yet…and yet."

Taylor rested her left hand on her sword, her right hanging loose, and slowed her walk towards the stairs. Luna clearly had a point to make, and Taylor would let her make it. It was unfortunate, but…well, Taylor had already been torn on whether she should even try to kill Luna. Might as well hear her out.

"It would be easier, if she could just say that I'm evil and justify it to herself," Luna said, "But good and evil aren't things most people are. It's a thing most people do, and the only real morality is the morality of the moment."

Taylor took two more steps, boots thudding on the ground, and Luna spread her arms.

"She's conflicted," she said, the blank mask of her helmet pointing at Taylor's, "Because she knows it's true. What does she do? Does she kill me now, to avenge people already dead, or does she work with me to save those still alive? Which choice, in this moment, is the moral one?"

"The morality of the moment," Taylor said, "I'd expected something else. Something like, say, there is no good or evil. Only power…"

"And those too weak to seek it?" Luna finished, a smile in her voice, "I like to think I'm a little more three-dimensional than that. And I have a nose."

Luna tapped the front of her helmet, as though in demonstration.

"Have you ever noticed that it's always the villains who say things like that? I mean, Voldemort was out here trying to kill babies and he's saying that there is no good or evil?"

"In fairness, Voldemort was self-centred enough to think he was the good guy. Time traveller's conundrum."

Luna snorted – Taylor felt the mild confusion in McVeay and June.

"If you were a time traveller," Luna said, "And you could kill baby Hitler, would you? And would it be moral to do so?"

Luna began to descend the stairs, motioning for her two Lieutenants to remain in place.

"Of course, I'm inclined to say yes," Luna said, "To refuse to stop one of the greatest monsters of history, up until now, for fear that something worse will happen is the cowards way out, couched in caution. Kill him. Kill the next. To be such a hero requires hands stained with blood."

"How very cynical of you," Taylor said, pacing to the side so that Luna had room. Luna shrugged.

"The future is built on the bones of the innocent. Think about it, Taylor. How many people are there, on this planet, two billion? If even a fraction of those became Psykers, just one in a million, how many more is that?"

"Two thousand," Taylor said mildly, "Not that many."

And yet – and yet, even if they were weak, their unified strength would increase the power Taylor could wield enormously. Impossible to say if it would triple, quadruple, exponentially increase her power if she was supported by the collective efforts of every Psyker in the world. And one in a million was probably a conservative estimate of how many would unlock their power. But how many would perish in the awakening?

"I hope," Luna said, "Fervently, that we can make it work. That we can make all two billion people on this planet awaken to their psyker heritage, that none of them will die. But I know that's a dream. But if we don't – how many will die, if we wait? How many will die, while you become strong enough to defeat the Endbringers?"

And the Parasite, Taylor thought, hearing Luna's unspoken words. It could take years, decades even. It was an alluring prospect – finish the Parasite now, sooner, vanish sooner. Make less of an impact that she would have to expunge to avoid being unwillingly elevated to rulership, and Luna knew it. It was a cold calculation, but…

"You're manipulating me," Taylor observed dryly. Luna tilted her head.

"Is it working?" she asked, her tone simple curiosity.

Taylor hated to admit it, but it was.

"It will have to be done carefully," Taylor said, "To prevent as many deaths as possible. And there are some people we cannot afford to give more power."

"Heartbreaker, Ash Beast, the Sleeper, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog…" Luna reeled off. Taylor nodded.

"And others, yes, they'll have to be dealt with. We need to know how the Warp interacts with Parahuman powers. We can't rush this, and I won't become tyrant of the world. But…"

"But," Luna said, "You see my point. You will accept the morality of the moment, rather than condemning me for my past actions, and I will help you save humanity. And together, we will do something glorious."

Luna held out a hand, clawed gauntlet glittering in the light, and Taylor looked down at it.

"You know," Taylor said, "I'd already decided that your plan had merit. I'd have preferred otherwise but the cat's out of the bag, Pandora's Box has been opened. You're right, Humanity walks the Psyker path. I just wanted to hear you talk, see you. It's not about whether I use your plan. It's about whether I do it alongside you."

Luna kept her hand held out, McVeay and June shifting nervously. Taylor felt the hilt of her sword, rune-etched wood textured through her gloves. She could draw it, she knew, strike at Luna. Decapitate her. Strike her down.

And yet…and yet. Why do it alone? She was using Luna's plan, after all. And the Emperor had never been a paragon.

'Apologies, Tattletale. But if every life must be weighed the same, the lives Luna can help me save far outweigh Regent and Browbeat.'

"We will do something glorious," Taylor said, her tone softer and sadder than Luna's triumphant proclamation, as she reached out and took Luna's hand.

The morality of the moment.

I think at this point it's fair to say that my deadline has changed to the end of the month: we'll call this the September update rather than being the October as I intended. As such, it might be that there won't be a November update and the next Empress chapter will be in December, as I'll be participting in NaNoWriMo this year. I'll try to get an update for November, but no promises.

Other than that, as always, I hope you enjoyed, reviews are appreciated and, once again, I'll see you all in the next update.