Chapter 1
It seemed the whole planet was burning.
Shattered land stretched across the horizon, jagged and broken like the bones of some ancient giant. The sky, once blue and cloud-filled, was now a churning mass of ash and smoke. Flames licked the edges of ruined buildings, while the stench of charred flesh and scorched metal clung to the air. Shattered Guardsmen and Tyranid bioforms littered the battlefield—some twitching in death throes, others already still.
Severus crouched in the crater of a bombed-out trench, rifle pressed tight to his chest. The campaign to secure the outpost had begun months ago, though to him it felt like years. Endless days of fighting, dodging Tyranid skirmishers, watching comrades fall one by one. Now, the Astra Militarum was down to its dregs—ragged, hollow-eyed soldiers, stripped of hope. They fought on because duty demanded it.
His squad had been twenty strong. Now, they were barely ten.
Sergeant Rann was dead, of course—an acid-spitting Gaunt had torn through him days ago, and none of them had been able to recover the body. Corporal Lorne was gone too, dragged screaming into the night by some unspeakable beast. That left Severus and a handful of others. They were beyond tired, their faces pale beneath the grime and blood. Exhaustion clung to them like a second skin, but this was the Guard: tired got you killed. There was no room for weakness.
Beside him, Trooper Dannel lit a lho-stick, his hands trembling as he fought to control the lighter's flame. "I heard a squad tried to surrender a few weeks back," he muttered, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. His voice was little more than a rasp, worn rough by dust and fear.
Severus didn't reply. He kept his eyes on the horizon, watching the roiling smoke that blotted out the sky. Tyranid spores drifted lazily through the air, thick as falling snow. Somewhere, distant but unmistakable, the sound of chitinous claws scraping against rock echoed like a death knell. They were close. Too close.
"Did they make it?" Trooper Varik asked, voice cracking on the question, though everyone knew the answer.
Dannel shrugged, his mouth twisting in a grim smile. "Heard the 'nids took their arms first. Gave 'em something to think about before the end."
A few of the troopers chuckled—dark, mirthless laughter, more reflex than true humour. The bitterness in their voices dared fate to make things worse.
Severus grunted. "Best not to think about it." His voice was steadier than he felt, but someone had to keep it together. His fingers tightened around his lasgun, its metal cold and worn from use.
He glanced at the others, faces slack and drained, like corpses left too long in the sun. They were more dead than alive, held together by will alone. Trooper Varik was cleaning his bayonet for the hundredth time, as if it would protect him when the horde came. Guardsman Jorvik knelt by a sandbag, muttering quiet prayers to the Emperor. Severus couldn't remember when he'd stopped praying, but it didn't matter now.
"Any word on evac?" Kremm asked, his voice barely a whisper. It wasn't a real question anymore, just a habit, a desperate grasp at hope. Severus didn't need to look up to see the others' faces. They all knew the answer.
"The comms are dead," he said, his tone flat, resigned. There was no need to elaborate. They all knew the silence of the vox, the dead air that had lingered for what felt like forever. Were the antennas down? Or was there no one left to hear them?
"We're on our own," Severus muttered, as much to himself as to the others. Kremm's face fell, though he had already known the truth. Hearing it said aloud made it real. It hung heavy in the air. The planet was lost. It wasn't a question of if the Tyranids would overrun them anymore—just when.
Severus shifted, feeling the weight of it all press down on him. He wasn't supposed to be in charge, not like this. He had joined the Guard to fight, to serve, not to lead. But war wasn't about choices. It was about necessity.
The ground shook beneath them, distant artillery rumbling through the earth, mingled with the sharp screech of Tyranid creatures. Someone was still alive out there. Severus raised his head, scanning the darkened skyline. Shapes moved in the distance, barely visible against the backdrop of smoke and flame. The enemy was closing in again. The next wave was coming.
He swallowed the rising bile in his throat and turned to the others. "Check your weapons. We've got movement."
A tense silence followed as they complied, the familiar sounds of rifles being loaded and safeties checked filling the air. Severus could feel their eyes on him now. They were looking to him, waiting for orders.
His heart pounded in his chest, and for a second, he wondered if this would be the end. He had no grand plan, no clever strategy to get them out alive. Only the certainty that, like the others, he would die here. But if they were going down, they'd make the Tyranids pay for every inch.
"Stay low," he ordered, his voice calm despite the fear gnawing at him. "We hold this position until further orders."
Trooper Dannel gave a grim chuckle. "Further orders, huh? I'm sure they'll be along any minute now."
Severus didn't bother replying. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that they kept fighting, even when it was hopeless.
As the Tyranid screeches grew louder, Severus allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes. A short prayer, though he wasn't sure if it was for the Emperor or for the peace of oblivion.
Then, with grim resolve, he opened them again. He was a soldier, after all.
The swarm poured over the ruins like a tide of seething flesh and bone. Chittering claws and razor-sharp talons cut through the smoke as the Tyranid Gaunts surged forward. The ground trembled under the weight of the horde as it rushed towards Severus and his squad, a living wall of bodies. His lasgun kicked against his shoulder as he fired into the mass, but it felt like trying to hold back a flood with a handful of stones.
"Keep firing!" Severus shouted, his voice barely cutting through the screeches of the Tyranids and the thunder of gunfire. "Don't let them through!"
Varik's bayonet flashed as he slashed at a Gaunt that lunged too close, its acidic blood hissing as it splattered across the ground. Dannel, crouched behind debris, cursed as his lasgun overheated. "Too many of 'em!"
Before Severus could reply, a scream cut through the chaos. Kremm, the young recruit, fell beneath the claws of a Hormagaunt, its scythe-like limbs slicing through armour and flesh in a blink. Kremm's cry died, leaving only a gory mess where he'd stood.
"They're getting through!" Jorvik yelled, panic in his voice as he squeezed off another round, downing a leaping Termagant.
Severus's mind raced. They couldn't hold. The Tyranids were too fast, too relentless, closing the distance every second. His squad was breaking—their eyes wide with fear, their movements more frantic with each kill.
Then, two more screams. Varik fell, his throat ripped out by a Gaunt. Jobe was next, shredded by fleshborer rounds before he could fire again.
"Fall back!" Severus barked. "Fall back now, or we're finished!"
But his men were already turning, fear overtaking discipline. Dannel broke into a sprint, and the others followed, their training forgotten in the face of the onslaught. Severus knew the only way to save them was to cover their retreat, or they'd be cut down as they ran. He fired one last volley into the swarm before turning and chasing after the survivors.
The screeches behind him spurred his legs faster than ever. Claws scraped against debris, hisses filled the air as the Tyranids tore into the fallen, but he didn't look back. He couldn't.
"Keep moving!" he yelled as they dashed through the ruined streets. "Don't stop, or they'll cut us down!"
The squad sprinted through a maze of broken walls and rubble, boots slipping on blood-soaked concrete. The Tyranids were fast, but the wreckage slowed them, buying the squad precious seconds. Severus spotted a half-collapsed building ahead—barely standing, but enough to give them cover.
"There!" he shouted, pointing to the structure. "Inside, now!"
One by one, the survivors scrambled through the gaping doorway, ducking beneath fallen beams and shattered windows. Severus was the last to enter, he crouched by the entrance, breath heavy, eyes wide. The swarm scrambled past the building, ignoring them as if they didn't exist. The creatures poured through the streets, rushing towards some unseen target further ahead.
Jorvik slumped against a pile of rubble, gasping for air. "Where are they going?" he rasped, disbelief thick in his voice.
Severus kept his eyes fixed on the street outside. The swarm had passed, surging onward, leaving them behind. He muttered a quiet thanks to the Emperor, but his mind raced.
Dannel let out a bitter laugh. "Not even worth the trouble, huh?"
Severus' gaze narrowed. He'd seen this before. The Tyranids weren't just moving—they were driven, directed. "They're not done," Severus said quietly. "Something's pushing them. A synapse."
Jorvik groaned. "So we were just in the way," he muttered, dry as dust.
Severus barely heard him. His focus shifted, not on what he could see, but what he could hear. The swarm wasn't gone. There was something else—low at first, like a distant hum, then a rumble, growing louder. A deep, resonant sound, like a heartbeat pulsing through the ground.
Dannel glanced at Severus, his face pale. "You hear that?"
"We're not safe," Severus murmured. His voice was steady, low, as if speaking louder might pull the swarm back. "Not here, not anywhere."
The others knew it too. No matter where they ran, the swarm would find them. Severus stood slowly, his body aching from days of relentless fighting. He glanced around the ruined building—broken walls, shattered windows, offering nothing but a brief delay before death.
"What now?" Dannel asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid of the answer.
Severus didn't respond at first. What now? There was no miracle coming, no rescue. He searched for words that wouldn't be false hope, but there were none. Then, he saw it—half-buried under rubble outside the collapsed wall: a heavy bolter. Its metal frame caked in dust, ammo belt still coiled beside it. A relic from a squad long dead.
He stared at it, eyes narrowing. His chest tightened.
"That," Severus ordered, pointing.
Dannel followed his gaze, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're joking. The second we go out there, we're dead."
"We're dead either way," Severus snapped. "Without it, we won't even get to fight back. They'll cut through us like nothing."
Dannel's jaw tightened. "And with it? What, we get an extra minute? Maybe two?"
Severus met his gaze, exhaustion in his eyes. "That's more than we'll get without it. A minute's better than nothing. At least we'll take more of them down with us."
Tension hung between them. They all knew the truth—there was no victory, no survival. Just a few more moments, a few more shots before the end.
Dannel swallowed, face pale. After a long moment, he nodded. "Fine. Let's make 'em pay for it. Every last one."
Severus scanned the others. No one spoke, but their faces said enough. There was no courage left, no hope—only the grim determination to die fighting.
"Move," Severus ordered.
He and Dannel slipped through the hole in the wall, darting toward the bolter. The air reeked of spent ammunition. For a moment, Severus feared they'd be spotted, but the swarm kept moving, oblivious to their presence.
They reached the bolter, Severus dropping to one knee to check the weapon while Dannel hoisted the ammo belt. "It's still functional," Severus muttered, a flicker of hope rising in his chest. "Get it inside."
With a grunt, they lifted the bolter and dragged it back to the building.
A low rumble began, distant at first, but growing louder with each second. It pulsed through the ground, a deep visceral throb that rattled the building's fractured walls. Dust trickled from the ceiling with every tremor, and Severus felt the vibration in his chest. It wasn't just noise—it was the approach of something unstoppable.
"Get that bolter set up," Severus barked, the edge of fear barely masked beneath the command.
Dannel's hands shook as he grabbed the heavy bolter, his fingers slipping on the dust-coated metal. "It's stuck," he hissed, tugging at the weapon. The thing was a beast, and setting it up in the cramped, broken entrance wasn't easy.
"Hurry!" Jorvik shouted, sweat streaming down his face. "It's getting louder."
Severus grunted, pulling with Dannel. "Move!" he growled, muscles screaming as they hauled the weapon into position. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but there was no time. The rumbling grew stronger, a constant reminder that whatever was coming wouldn't wait.
The sound outside changed, sharpening. It wasn't just the low rumble anymore—now there was chittering, and a rhythmic clicking like claws scraping across stone. The swarm was close.
"They're almost on us!" Jorvik's voice was tight with panic, his knuckles white around his lasgun as he aimed toward the shattered entrance.
"Get that ammo belt loaded," Severus ordered, seeing Dannel struggling to feed the coiled belt into the bolter's chamber. His hands trembled, his breath came in short gasps. He knew what was coming—so did Severus.
The noise outside surged, a wave of screeching claws. Jorvik stepped back, eyes wide. "Emperor save us…"
Dannel cursed as the ammo belt slipped from his grip, falling into the dust. "I can't—" he cut himself off, shaking his head, and lunged to grab the belt. "Dammit, dammit!"
"Dannel, get it together!" Severus snapped, dropping to one knee and forcing the belt into place, his hands shaking but steady. "If we don't get this up, we're dead."
"I know!" Dannel hissed, his face tight with frustration. Finally, the ammo clicked into place with a mechanical thud. The bolter was ready.
A new sound split the air—a deep, resonant roar that shook the walls. The synapse creature was near, massive and driving the swarm forward. Severus could feel it—a primal sense of being hunted, of something watching, controlling the horde.
"Ready!" Dannel gasped, stepping back as the bolter whirred to life.
Severus wiped sweat from his brow, eyes fixed on the shattered door ahead. "When they come through, don't stop firing until the barrel melts."
The shrieks from outside grew closer, the sound of claws scrambling over rubble, the swarm tightening its grip around them. Severus took a breath, heart pounding. Through the dust, he saw dark shapes moving. The swarm was almost on them, driven by the will of the synapse creature.
"Here they come," Severus muttered, steeling himself for the slaughter.
The noise outside surged into a deafening roar—a cacophony of screeches, claws scraping against the ruins, and that pulsing thrum crawling under their skin. The air thickened with tension, heavy with the stench of burning metal and blood. Whatever was out there, it wasn't waiting any longer.
"Get ready!" Severus barked, eyes locked on the ruined entrance, finger hovering over his lasgun's trigger. "They'll be on us any second."