Everything hurts
The shower did him wonders. Jaxson took to the bed afterwards, awareness falling away the moment he closed his eyes, and...
He dreamed.
He was a wolf again. His teeth were lightning bolts, his eyes were singularities and his hide was the surface of a sun. Before him loomed an emerald web and, beneath it, a warren full of malice. He was hunting. He was hunted.
There was no glass-pane alien to tease him here.
A presence prowled beyond the web, the warren, the Hydra's twisted carcass. It was bloodied red and swathed in shadow and it snarled, it bit at the air, it snorted its impatience. It was looking for a way in, a chink in the armour. Jaxson - TITAN, WYRMWOLF, HUMAN - saw the glittering edge of its scythe, saw the worms wriggling between its clenched claws, saw the shine of its multitude eyes and he knew-
Terror.
The essence paused. It looked upon him. Smiled with ten thousand tattered mouths, baring a million jagged teeth. "Little wolf, little wolf, let me come in."
The gore-thing sidled close, as close as it dared, lathering tongues and talons and Nightmare-flesh against the ward of the city.
"Or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your walls down."
Jaxson stared. Glared. Howled his defiance. Go, he roared. Go. Leave now and never come back.
It laughed, the corpse-creature, it cackled and shook with mirth. "I'll get in one way or another. We'll have a chat, you and I, just us. We're not so different-"
Silence.
"The Witch has them fooled. Has you all fooled as she once fooled me. I'm here to help you. To save you."
Monster.
The beast sighed. "You're young. You'll learn. I'll make sure of it." Its eyes twinkled. It pressed against the ward harder, harder, harder, splitting its own skin and bleeding Darkness, staining the city beneath with its dripping ichor. "See you soon."
A scream rumbled from the warrens, shaking the city's very foundations. The Terror backed away as a furious Vex-storm enveloped Neomuna - but he could hear its laughter still.
He woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat. Jaxson sat up quickly, blinked away the dregs of sleep and looked around. The memories of the day prior trickled in - the sortie, Nezarec, the bombs, the Nastareth. His hands curled into fists, creasing the sheet. His breath lodged in his throat. They were stuck, stranded still, alone but for-
There was a card on the dresser.
Jaxson froze. "Ghost?" he asked aloud.
"With Irxan," came the response. "Her gauntlet's acting funny, we're trying to fix it."
He gathered himself, tentatively reached over and turned the card up. It was a brownish-green, marked with patterns unlike those of common playing cards, and the face... the face was a skull. A beast's skull, stripped of meat and tendon. Five empty eye sockets on each side, with a final hole drilled into the roof of its head. It looked... disturbingly real.
Jaxson blinked. He could smell smoke. Taste the sea.
He washed and dressed quickly, keeping the card on hand at all times. Whatever it was made from, it wasn't common paper; it didn't curl or fall apart at the mere touch of water. There was some rigidity to it, hand-in-hand with an indescribable feeling of weight. It wasn't heavy but he felt heavy holding it. He felt watched.
Jaxson emerged from his room freshened up, walked down the stairs and dropped it on the coffee table. Irxan and Ghost both looked up at him. Irxan's gauntlet lay in several pieces and they had a toolbox handy, but she set all of it aside and bunched her shoulders. "What is it?"
"Found it," Jaxson said, watching her closely, "on my dresser."
Her inner pair of eyes closed.
"No one entered," Ghost said quickly. His iris enlarged and he scanned the card over. "What the- Jaxie, seriously, we haven't let anyone into the apartment, let alone to look in on you. I already checked the room-"
Jaxson cut him off with a wave of his hand and fell into the couch beside them. "What can you tell me about it?"
Ghost hesitantly scanned it again. "It's, uh... well, it's petrified vellum. Spectral analyzer's goin' nuts, but it's not Dark."
"Light?"
"No."
Irxan gingerly picked it up. "It is cold."
Jaxson frowned. "Wasn't for me?"
She looked at him, at the card, stood up and stepped away. "Colder." She walked closer, all but shoved it into his arms. "Ah."
"It's reacting to me?"
"Little Light." Irxan motioned to Ghost. He reluctantly flew across the table and she circled it to meet him. "It reacts with you too. It..."
Jaxson narrowed his eyes. "Yeah?"
"It feels... cruel." Irxan blinked and dropped it. She cradled her hand. "Alive."
"It hurts?"
"No. Too cold, too... I do not like it." Irxan peered at him. "What will you do?"
"Someone left it here for me to find." Jaxson breathed in deep. "I'll ask when they come to check on us." He sat down. "What's next?"
Irxan's gaze lingered on the card, but she joined him before long. "My gauntlet is reading false signals. Give me yours."
"Alright." Jaxson nodded to Ghost, who transmatted it onto the table - followed by the Sunbracers. They crackled irritably. "Really?"
"I'm not dealing with them a second longer," Ghost grumbled. "They've been burning through each containment field I set up. They're gonna melt your hardware."
"Fine." Jaxson tried plucking his gauntlet back but Irxan pulled it away.
"Nama," she said distractedly, opening it up with a magnatool. "I am busy."
Jaxson looked at Ghost. "What do you want me to do?"
"You've got your own Arc," Ghost shot back. "Speak to it yourself."
Jaxson sighed. He reached for the Sunbracers, thought better of it and gathered the Light in his hand. He caught it, shaped it, gave it to the storm and, with incredible care, directed the faintest jolt of energy to reach forth in his stead.
The Sunbracers sparked once before falling still.
"Well, I tried," Jaxson said after a while.
"Not hard eno-"
A bolt of lightning whipped through the air, almost snagged Ghost, then latched onto Jaxson's arm. The shriek of Arc and the sheer heat of its lash threatened to overwhelm him. The sleeve of his jumper burned away on the spot, the meat of his arm cooked, even his bones began to shift and snap. Jaxson cried out as he pulled from the couch to the table as additional lightning-fingers curled around him. Irxan shouted something, Ghost called a warning, but Jaxson was deaf to the words. Only sensation remained.
He fought it. Plated his skin in Stasis, bathed his flesh in restorative flame. The Arkborn tightened its hold, pulled him closer until he leaned right over the listless bracers, demanded-
Jaxson gave a gasp as it reached through him, chased his own Arc through the electrical currents of his body, burrowing deep until it found the Light of his soul. He adapted its pattern, its shape, birthing a new storm inside his chest. Thunder shook his ribs. He split apart, reformed, split apart, reformed - change, change, change. His Arc bristled and the Arkborn linked with it, lightning hooking with lightning. Opening him up. Drawing him out. Searching in vain for equilibrium.
Screaming until he could hear the words.
You do not lie you do not lie you do not lie. He had the impression it was cheering, its speech imprinting on his mind as pure concept. Truth truth truth.
You're hurting me, he shouted in a voice of pure static.
Instantly the claws loosened their hold. Didn't let go, not quite, but the agony of assuming an inhuman form faded. His eyes un-boiled. His muscles de-roasted. His splintered bones reset, his mushed brain slithered back together, his skin smoothed over with the kiss of Solar. His living Light burned bright, framing his body in a supercharged current - one that looped from man to Sunbracer, Sunbracer to man. Jaxson gasped, first with relief, then with surprise.
He...
He could...
He could see it. The Arkborn, split in twain, dancing before his mind's eye.
Hello, it said. A flare of power followed its speech. A tone. Nervous. Afraid.
Please, he begged, please don't do that again. You could have killed someone.
I'm sorry.
Jaxson staggered back. He turned, fearing the worse, but to his immense relief found Irxan and Ghost alive. The Splicer was cradling Ghost in her hands, having fled to the other side of the room, but they were alive. Unhurt. "You guys-"
"What the fuck?" Ghost cursed. He wriggled free of Irxan's claws. "It almost fried us!"
"Easy. It's talking-"
Do not leave.
Jaxson blinked. Was that a hint of desperation? Or anger? The Arkborn's form twisted erratically; it wasn't a solid thing, moreso a clump of living electricity coiled about an anchor point, but it seemed to be attempting to form itself into something more defined. Lightning shifted, molded together, until inevitably falling apart. Its own biology denied it. I'm here.
"Is it speaking?" Irxan clicked.
He nodded wordlessly. Every hair on his body stood on end. There was so much static in the air it felt like he was inhaling needles. We are not enemies. We don't serve the Emperor.
The living storm surged... and relaxed. You fight him?
Yes.
The far door opened. Tatania Leite walked in, saw them and froze. Her eyes widened.
Must be whole, the Arkborn complained. Must fight. Must kill. Betrayer, betrayer, betrayer.
Jaxson forced himself to ignore all else and look solely upon the alien's hidden mass. Difficult. We are guests too and those here do not trust us.
Calus is close?
He besieges us.
Will help. Will serve.
Jaxson grimaced. You attacked me.
No.
You did. You hurt me. Almost killed others. How can I trust you?
Oath.
I have no reason to believe you'll keep your oath.
The Arkborn bristled. He could feel it on its skin - but true to its word it refrained from burning him. Must fight. Must kill. He must end.
I know.
"Jaxie?" Ghost cautiously floated over.
Jaxson heaved a deep sigh. "It wants to be free."
"Is that, uh... wise?"
"That's what I'm trying to clear up."
"No, I mean... Without something physical to contain it the Arkborn will just disperse."
"Die?"
"No. At least... I don't think so?" Ghost paused, then settled on his shoulder. "But we can't put it back in the vault."
Tatania was still watching. Jaxson glanced at her, saw her with her arms folded over a dataslate, but she simply raised an eyebrow and remained waiting.
"Instruct it to behave," Irxan said. She inched over. "Once I finish I will have a remedy."
Jaxson frowned but carried on the message. We have a possible solution. Restrain yourself.
The Arkborn shrunk back within the Sunbracers. Will hold you to it.
Once he gave the all-clear, Irxan hurried over, gathered up the components for her disassembled gauntlet and began rapidly piecing it back together. Jaxson watched, rapt; Misraaks had run him through how to maintain his own, but the differences between one designed for human hands and one for Eliksni claws were peculiar. It didn't just read hand motions, but tapped directly into the electrical systems between brain and muscle, which in the human body was weaker. Whereas it simply attached to a Splicer's arm, Jaxson had to physically jack it into his subdermal symbio-tec implants.
Irxan finished within minutes, attached it to one of her lower arm and activated it. The blades extended and whirred. She chittered with confusion and handed Jaxson's gauntlet over. "Use it."
Jaxson, still keeping an eye on the Arkborn, pulled it over his forearm and waited for Ghost to align it. There was a slight stinging sensation as tiny needles docked in his nerve centres, followed by the forever unique sensation of turning it on with a thought. The blades activated, jutting out to catch stray signals. Jaxson blinked. "What am I looking for?"
"Vex," Irxan said.
Why did he even bother asking? Jaxson splayed his fingers, widened the sphere. The city was alive with radiowaves, electrical currents, energy sources unlike anything he'd ever known. Everything was so much more vibrant than the Last City - and just as dead. The Endless Night was still fresh on his mind, and so he tensed when he caught onto the Network's scent, but it was long-decayed, echoes of what must have been incursions repelled centuries ago.
"I'm not picking up on anything," Jaxson said.
Irxan narrowed all four eyes, though she nodded. "I must be reading an error."
Jaxson shrugged. "So what's our fix for sparky?"
"We take it with us."
"Where?"
"Wherever we go. It must acclimate."
"It's too dangerous to leave free-"
"So we restrain it to you, eia?" Irxan tapped his gauntlet.
Jaxson opened his mouth, closed it, shivered. "That's..."
"Yes?"
"I don't like it."
Irxan growled softly. "You do not have to. Pass it over to Osiris."
"If it gets testy he won't have the Light to survive it." Jaxson scowled when he saw her deadpan expression. "Yeah yeah, I know, but from a moral standpoint none of this feels right."
"Why?"
"Because it won't have a choice. Where I go, it goes. If that means into battle then it won't be able to sit things out."
"What does it say?"
"Pretty sure it wants to help," Ghost supplied. He spared Jaxson an apologetic look. "Reasoning's sound."
"Only because we aren't thinking of the risks to me."
"That's… also true."
Tatania cleared her throat. She smiled when they all turned to look at her. "Is there something I can help you with? I couldn't help but overhear-"
"We're good," Jaxson grumbled. He motioned to Irxan. "Alright, fine. What do I do?"
Irxan's mandibles shivered. "Catch it."
"Just..."
"Eia."
"... Cool. Coooool. This is going to be fucking great." Jaxson performed some final tweaks on the gauntlet - tightening the grip here, readjusting the dock-needles there - and gradually worked up the courage to do as he was bid. With his other hand he reached out again to the Arkborn through his Light, wincing as it grasped him in turn. A thousand fingers woven of static electricity slithered up his arm. You are to come with me.
The Arkborn flickered. Why?
There is little trust in you.
Foolish.
I agree, but neither do we feel right leaving you alone. I intend to kill the Emperor. Will you help us?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Then you must be careful. Those around me aren't as strong as I am. They won't survive you.
I know the limits of organics. He taught me.
Jaxson blinked. Explain.
The Arkborn withered beneath the question. Shame. Shame. I cannot, for shame.
You served the Emperor?
He promised. Peace, safety, tribute. He promised. Lies. He lied on every count. He must atone. He must die.
Jaxson grimaced. "Ghost?"
"Yeah, I'm... I'm reading." Ghost's voice fell. "That's... wow. That complicates things."
Irxan looked between them. "Is something wrong?"
Jaxson almost told her - but his eyes flicked over Tatania's way and he judged against it. "Nothing," he lied. "Just setting the ground rules." He brushed his gauntlet over the Sunbracers. Parts of the Arkborn caught on the shivering blades and coiled tight. I want to know everything.
Shame, it repeated.
I don't care. If you want our trust it comes at a cost. He spied Tatania approaching. Later. Get on.
The Arkborn spilled from the bracers onto the gauntlet, both halves rejoining within the circuitry and about the whirring blades. Jaxson felt a buzz from the needles embedded in his arm, the intimate brush of the alien against his nervous system, and had to remind himself to breathe. In and out. In and out. Expand, contract. He felt it explore its new cell, gently test the parameters, and eventually settle in. Physically it weighed nothing, but the sensation left his arm leaden. He cautiously deactivated the blades. The Arkborn remained stationary, quite content.
A pair of fingers clicked by his ear. Jaxson all but jumped and glared at Tatania. She regarded him with faint amusement. "So. Care to explain?"
"Guardian business," Jaxson said coldly.
"Uhuh. Should I arrange for a replacement table? A new carpet certainly."
"Why-" Jaxson looked down. "Oh. Sorry."
"We were experimenting," Irxan supplied, sparing him a warning look. She lowered herself to human eye-level for Tatania's benefit. "I proposed a demonstration, therefore the fault is mine. Upon honour of mine-House I will make reparations."
"It's a carpet," Tatania said with a shrug. "It's fine. Should've tapped you both for artificers."
"Splicers."
"Hm?"
"Our term is Splicer," Irxan gently corrected.
"I see. Well, I'll arrange for a replacement shortly. In the meantime, Archivist Laghari's called for you. She says it's a matter of some urgency?"
Jaxson straightened quickly. "Osiris?"
"Hm? Oh, no, he's fine." Tatania waved his concerns away. "No harm will come to him. Neomuni honour."
"So what is it?"
"I don't know the finer details, only that you're wanted." She flashed him an apologetic smile. It didn't reach her eyes.
"... Right." Jaxson checked the Arkborn over again. "'Spose we should head over?"
"If it pleases you."
"Irxan?"
Irxan plucked her cloak from the back of an armchair and clipped it to her pauldrons. She waved him on with a lower hand. "I must gather my tools."
"Shuttle's just outside," Tatania said, turning to leave.
Jaxson nodded. "We'll see you there." He hurried to catch up with Tatania in the hall outside. "What did Quinn say?"
Tatania looked her datapad over. "Verbatim? 'I need the alien and the dog-man.' I assume you're supposed to be the latter?"
"Wolf," Jaxson grumbled, "not dog."
"Is that a... rank?"
"Title."
"I see." They reached the elevator and rode it down to the lobby. "Miss Laghari is rather well-known for her... eccentricities. She doesn't mean it in a degrading sense-"
"I know. I've already got my measure of her." The doors opened and they filed out. The place was mostly clear, but the few people present stared at him with wide eyes and hanging jaws. A pair of armed security frames fell on either side of them and escorted them straight to the aerial shuttle just outside the front door. Jaxson made to climb in but Tatania cut him off.
"Just a moment, Mister Ineta." She held something out to him. "I believe you dropped this."
It was the card from his dresser.
Jaxson narrowed his eyes and tentatively took it from her. "Thanks..."
"It's nothing." Tatania's smile was all teeth. "Please give the Archivist my regards." She turned and marched away.
"Okay," Ghost said, "that was weird."
Jaxson watched her go. "You're telling me."
There was no crowd waiting for them when they landed before the Hall of Records. Jaxson took the opportunity to take in the view - and he was not disappointed. The Hall was situated on a rise far above the city's ground level, leaving the horizon dotted with skyscrapers like interlocking teeth. Neon lights and reflective glass were the core of the city's identity, worked into every facet of architecture from the streets below to the highest spires above. Despite the press of so many megatructures Neomuna was a bright spot set against the twilight of Neptune, even with the sun so faint.
"How long is a day here?" he found himself asking.
Ghost compiled in the air beside him. "'Bout sixteen hours."
"That's almost Earth-like."
"You'll be hard pressed to find a more inhospitable planet."
"But they made do."
"Someone did."
Jaxson exhaled deeply. He clutched the card tightly by his side. "We're not cut out for this."
"This is Osiris' realm."
"I was thinkin' Eris. Or..." He sighed. "Or Ike."
"Ike's gone," Ghost said gently. "He's not coming back."
"I know. I... I fucking know." Jaxson turned to the Hall. "Let's get this over with."
They rejoined with Irxan and entered with haste. Osiris and Quinn were waiting in the library, sat on opposite ends of a study table and arguing over a scatter of glowing datapads, though they fell silent at the sight of them. "Wolf," Osiris greeted. He looked tired.
Jaxson kept a distance. "Got the Arkborn on me."
"Alive?"
"Yeah."
Osiris' brow furrowed. "It's... cooperative?"
"So far."
"I see."
"The hell's an Arkborn?" Quinn asked, glancing between them.
Jaxson raised his gauntlet. "Arc-based alien lifeform. Calus had this one hooked up to the Typhon's engine core. We freed it to scuttle him."
"That's... that's an alien?"
"Yeah."
"Arc-based?"
"Cabal records state that Arkborn are a particular gradient of Arc-energy that allows for higher thought," Osiris explained, "though bereft of certain power-limiters they stand at risk of dissipating across a planet's electromagnetic field. To resist such a fate, they require a medium to occupy. I thought my bracers-"
"It was getting antsy," Jaxson grunted. "My vault wasn't going to survive."
Osiris pursed his lips. "I see."
"Yeah. Anyways. Found this." He slapped the skull card down on the table and stepped back. "It was in my room. Was sleepin' at the time. Ghost says says I didn't have visitors but..." Jaxson trailed off. Quinn had grown pale. "You know what it is?"
She slowly shook her head.
"Bullshit."
"I swear I don't. I've never seen..." Quinn hesitated. "Not in person. Never like that."
"What do you mean?"
"I... I need to call Rohan. Administrator Tse. Someone." She staggered to her feet and limped away.
Osiris looked Jaxson's way with an eyebrow raised. "Curious."
"Know what that's about?"
"Not at all."
Jaxson sighed and took Quinn's seat. "Why are we here? You need something?"
Osiris made a face. "No, why would I-"
"We were summoned," Irxan cut in.
"Not on my behalf, I assure you." His frown deepened. "Very curious."
They were left waiting some time. Osiris soon resumed his reading, Jaxson amused himself by watching tiny arms of static rise from the Arkborn's caged form, while Irxan fiddled with her gauntlet again. He considered offering to help, then thought better of it; he might've been a human Splicer but next to an Eliksni the difference was night and day. They understood machines in a way no one else could even begin to understand.
Twenty minutes or so passed before Quinn returned, marching with grim purpose. Behind her strolled both Nimbus and Rohan. The Cloud Striders looked none too pleased to be there.
"That was fast," Jaxson muttered. He raised his voice. "You transmatted over?"
Rohan nodded distractedly. His eyes fell to the card. "You found this?"
"In my room."
"No one entered?"
"No one," Irxan swore. Her mandibles audibly clicked against her teeth. "Why are we here, human? Why have you called-" Her gauntlet whined. She muttered something and turned away.
Rohan frowned. "I didn't put in a request. Nimbus?"
Nimbus shrugged. "Wasn't me, old man. You sure you didn't imagine it? Maybe you're just not used to the air down here."
Jaxson glared at them. "Your friend Leite told us."
Nimbus' mouth opened and closed. They looked to Rohan with some alarm. Rohan stared at Jaxson. "Son," he said. Urgency dripped from every word. "I need you to tell me exactly what she said."
Jaxson blinked. "Exactly?"
"Exactly."
"I'll help," Ghost said. Jaxson's sensorium lit up with replayed footage.
"Uh... She said Archivist Laghari called for us... and that she didn't know the finer details. That's it." Jaxson sat up straight. "What's this about?"
Rohan's gaze turned back to the card. Before he could say anything, however, Irxan barked loudly and sprung upright. "Attack!" she all but shouted.
Jaxson took to his feet. "Where?"
"I..." Irxan's inner eyes closed. "A warning. From... psesikar! The Traitor-Kell speaks, Ler'rux."
Jaxson's gauntlet trembled. The Arkborn stirred. Your machine is being hailed.
Show me.
A new voice fed into his cochlear augment. :Human. They strike for the tomb. Salvation instructed to clear the way.:
Ghost appeared before him, blinking rapidly. "Was that...?"
"Eramis," Jaxson grimly finished.
Osiris flinched. "She's here?"
"Message came from Vex-space."
"Is that possible?"
"If they have Sol Divisive on their side, I don't see why not. Salvation Splicers don't play around. But she has to be close."
"What about this tomb-"
"The Complex," Rohan exhaled. His hands curled into fists. "Lightbearers. Who is this Eramis?"
Jaxson straightened. "Eliksni Kell of House Salvation. They've sworn for the Black Fleet."
"Another army?"
"A broken one," Irxan hissed.
Osiris nodded slowly. "In a military sense, House Salvation is weak. Since our war on Europa, the ensuing Vex invasion and Wrathborn outbreaks they've lost most of their strength. What remains lies in their Splicers and Darkbearers."
"They won't fight like the Cabal," Jaxson added. "They're quick, brutal, and resourceful. Eramis knows siege-craft. If she's here they will find a way inside."
Rohan and Nimbus exchanged worried looks. "But why would she warn you," the latter questioned.
Jaxson paused. "I... I don't know."
Irxan snorted. "Is it not obvious? She regrets. She knows the Whirlwind comes again. For once she heeds greater wisdom."
"Doesn't mean we should trust it," he retorted. "This is Eramis. She unleashed the Vex on her own House."
"Eia, I know. I was there."
Jaxson blinked. "Oh."
Irxan shook her horned head. "She knows this Whirlwind will not stop at one world. Her mate and hatchlings still live, somewhere in the light of another star. If the Maw wins here, all will die."
"It doesn't matter," Rohan cut in. "If there's a threat to the Complex-"
"What is this Complex, exactly?" Osiris interrupted.
Nimbus shot him a look. "Not the time, old man."
"We won't have another."
Rohan sighed. "It's... complicated."
"In that case, allow us an abridged version."
"It's... it's where the Nastareth lies. It's where the aeldari who saved us remain. It's... it's where we go to die. To join them, when our time comes."
"A burial ground?"
"More than that. It's a crossroads - where Vex-space, Shae'il and realspace cross over." Rohan grimaced. "If they have the means to reach the tomb then the city's open to them. Strider's Gate. The Veil."
"So move it. Bar the doors."
"Should I... get Administrator Tse?" Quinn quietly asked. Rohan nodded. She left quickly.
"It's not so simple." Rohan clasped his hands together - one flesh, one brass. "It's only held together because of the Nastareth. If they disturb His remains, they could undo the Complex's very foundations. There's no telling how far the damage could spread."
"And you say this borders on Shae'il?"
"A rupture, yes."
Osiris pursed his lips. "That's concerning."
"What are you thinking?" Jaxson asked.
"I'm thinking, Wolf, that we now know how Nezarec intends to claim the city."
"And that's... not good?"
"No. Not at all."
"But that doesn't explain this." Jaxson gestured to the card. "What does this have do with anything?"
"It's an invitation," Rohan murmured.
"Alright. From who?"
"The Complex's caretakers."
"Who?"
"Those who chose to live in the darkness. They tend to Him."
"Humans?"
"Of a degree."
"Fucking Traveler, this is like pulling teeth- what the fuck was it doing in my room?"
Rohan hesitated. Nimbus took over, face pale and drawn. "That's Cloud Strider business."
"It's my fucking business now."
"He's right," Rohan muttered. He nodded to Nimbus. "Tell him."
Nimbus was reluctant to even look at him. "It's part of the induction process. Directly after our first augments we take a pilgrimage down from the Gate into the Complex. If we make it to the Coven, they take us to the Nastareth's cairn. Afterwards we emerge full Cloud Striders."
"And if you don't?"
"We join the wailing dead."
Osiris cleared his throat. "But Jaxson isn't a Cloud Strider, nor an aspirant."
"Hence my reservations," Rohan replied. "This isn't the traditional process."
"So what does this mean?"
"That you've received a summons. That the temple requires aid."
"But why me?" Jaxson demanded.
Rohan shrugged. "I don't know. But if this Traitor-Kell saw fit to warn you too, then we can't risk ignoring it."
"Rohan-" Nimbus started to say.
"I know."
"It's not... it's not right."
"I know!" Rohan snapped with surprising ferocity, though the anger quickly drained from him. "You'll have to go with him."
"No-"
"Yes. That's an order."
"No!" Nimbus squared up. "I'm not... no. It's not fucking right."
"Y'know I can hear you," Jaxson muttered.
Nimbus glared at him. "Shut up. This isn't about you."
Rohan caught Nimbus shoulder and squeezed. "Dara."
Their head turned back so quickly Jaxson thought their neck might snap. "Rohan-"
"You'll go with him. You'll speak with the Coven, secure the tomb, keep him alive."
"Rohan..."
"Administrator Tse and I will discuss moving the Veil." Rohan briefly glanced Osiris' way. Osiris gratefully dipped his head. "But you need to do this. For me."
"...Okay." Nimbus bowed their head. Rohan drew him into a tight embrace.
Jaxson averted his gaze. A lump formed in his throat. He hated himself for it - that shred of boyish weakness, that grief-ridden yearning, that petty jealousy. It ill-fit him.
"When do we depart?" Irxan inquired.
The Cloud Striders pulled away. "Not you," Nimbus said, annoyed. "Just the Warlord."
Jaxson rolled his shoulders. "Let's get this over with."
"It's not so simple-"
"Well, it fucking should be. Universe is riding on us stopping the bastards, so can we please go?"
Nimbus gave him a hard look. "You'll report to the Striders' Gate," they said slowly. "We'll enter the Complex in ten minutes' time. The moment we're through, what I say goes. Do you understand?"
Jaxson considered saying no. Just for the hell of it.
"Warlord."
"He understands," Osiris said sharply, "but he doesn't appreciate your tone. Neither do I, for that matter."
"Don't care. Doesn't matter how many magic powers you have, the Complex will kill you. It's not a place for civvies." Nimbus closed their eyes as if in pain. "You don't deserve this honour. I want you to know that."
Jaxson ignored them and turned to face Rohan. "They can't have the Veil. No matter what. Fuck tradition, fuck the cost; they can't have it."
"I know."
"Even if we die, if they succeed, they can't be allowed-"
"I know, son."
"I'm not your... fuck it." Jaxson shook his head. "Just do whatever's necessary."
"I will." Rohan regarded him solemnly. "Good luck. Both of you."
Security Frames escorted them to the Gate's airlock. The door's teeth folded back, stale air flushed in, and gradually it slid open. A red light fell over them. Jaxson stepped inside, heart hammering, and watched in silence as Nimbus strode ahead with their shoulders hunched and head held low. They wore a suit of archaic grey armour, so formidable it might've stopped Cabal slug-fire, and clutched tightly to a glittering Vex-tech rifle.
They stopped at the second set of doors. A thoughtless wave of alien hatred swept over him. Something waited on the other side and by the Traveler did it loathe him, but he could not describe it as sentient. It felt as the Dark did, if a mite more primal, as nothing more than an ambient force in the impression of another's will.
"Affix rebreathers," a voice chimed behind them. The Frames took up position on either side, weapons at the ready.
Ghost transmatted Jaxson's helmet on. He gasped filtered air. With a groaning whine the airlock creaked open - and the Complex lay beyond.
It was dark. Cold. Vicious gales swept through the shadows, sanding down ship-grade steel and converted rock. Nimbus took the first bold step out into the wilderness. Jaxson was not far behind. The Frames arrayed themselves just beyond the entrance and that was it; their purpose was to keep the Gate clear.
Though from what Jaxson wasn't quite sure.
Nimbus marched quickly, each long stride matching two of Jaxson's own. Dust kicked up into their visors. Soon the airlock disappeared behind them, leaving them near-stranded in total darkness. Chunky gravel underfoot crunched with every step; Jaxson thought it had the texture of broken glass.
"Air quality is poor," Ghost reported. "High counts of sulfur dioxide. Dunno where from. Heavy traces of hydrogen and helium too; Neptune's natural atmosphere must be bleeding in."
He nodded wordlessly, hand gripping his Manticore tightly.
Nimbus stopped ahead. Jaxson fell in beside them. There, on the edge of his helmet's visual range, stood... the impression of a person, either sculpted with unerring skill or calcified from the real thing. It was large, a little taller than Nimbus themself, and almost certainly human-based. A mouth split impossibly wide to scream. Teeth chipped from weather and age. Empty pits for eyes. A metal hand stretching for the airlock behind them. Legs swallowed up to the knees in rock.
"Is that-" Jaxson started to ask, but Nimbus chose that moment to move on. They walked around the statue and didn't look back.
There were others. Most lay sprawled across the ground, petrified there, while a rare few had enough strength left that their final moments were spent standing. There must have been dozens - each boasting some glinting Vex-based prosthetic, each left here to die screaming.
They kept walking. For hours. There was no set direction; all Jaxson could tell was they were hiking down a gradual incline and that was it. Little pinpricks of light shone ahead at times, too fleeting to make out.
"Traps," Nimbus whispered. "Will'o'wisps. Don't touch 'em."
Jaxson felt something on the back of his neck. A breeze, he thought - but his armour was insulated. That feeling of animosity... grew, whereas the temperature dropped. "Are we alone?"
"Why?"
"I just..." Jaxson turned around-
-and fired straight into the skull-faced thing. It shrieked as it tumbled back, perforated with Void rounds. The shadows consumed it and all fell silent once more.
Nimbus swore and switched off his rifle's safety. "What did you shoot?"
"Some animal," Jaxson growled. He filled a hand with Solar flames and held it out. The light reflected off the monster's eyes - and several others too. There was a whole pack of them. The first, the wounded one, stepped out of the shadows. It was near as tall as Nimbus, a slender man-shaped thing with digitigrade legs, matted black fur and ursine paws. Its head was a deer-skull scoured of meat, still possessed of its antlers. A purplish tongue slithered between its thin needle-like teeth and it exhaled a choking black miasma.
The beast looked at him and ground its teeth together. It clutched loosely in one lanky hand a chipped knife lathered with some kind of venom, and it pointed this weapon between his eyes. "You," it whispered in a wraith-voice, the word whistling between its fangs. "Shatter."
"...Fuck," Nimbus breathed.
Jaxson backed up a step. The pack kept pace. He retreated another step; they took one closer. "Back off," he warned. "I will shoot again."
The foremost creature snorted and shook its antlers. Then it charged-
-and Jaxson smote it down with a strike of his hammer. It bounced off the rock with such force that its spine snapped and its limbs thrashed. It spluttered and gasped and snarled, throwing itself about on the ground, skin bulging and changing and growing. New limbs began to form. New eyes glittered between its broken teeth, growing out of its tongue. "SHATTER!" it bellowed.
And Jaxson brought down the hammer a second time. The flames smashed the creature apart - not as flesh and bone, but as a surge of dissipating energy, a misted shadow. He blinked and looked around for its remains. There were none.
Its kin took up the call. "Shatter, shatter, shatter!"
"We need to go." Nimbus grabbed Jaxson's shoulder and made to haul away.
Jaxson pushed his arm away. "I can take 'em."
"They're not important."
Another beast ran for him. Jaxson aimed and fired, not letting go of the trigger until it clicked empty. Like its brethren it died and faded as nothing more than glittering smoke.
"We need to go!" Nimbus shoved Jaxson past them. "Run!"
The pack made chase. Jaxson threw his hammer, nailed the foremost beast, but the explosion of light made his heart drop. In the brief flash he glimpsed dozens of the creatures, maybe more.
He turned and fled.
They lost the pack. Somehow. One moment there was a clamour of gnashing teeth right on their heels, the next there was nothing. By some miracle Jaxson hadn't lost track of Nimbus; the Cloud Strider peered through their scope down what looked like a bottomless chasm.
"You've been this way before," Jaxson said breathlessly. "So why are you acting like we're lost?"
"Because the Complex changes by the day," Nimbus curtly replied. "Hence the name."
"So how are we supposed to-"
"Let's go."
"Fucker." Jaxson checked behind just in case.
More statues, arrayed around a gout of fire. They swayed with the haze of heat, hands interlocked. He could hear them whisper.
They watched from the safety of a shallow cave as a scuttling stick-insect man-thing was swooped up by a giant with the skull of a bear. It stuffed the creature into its fleshless craw and chewed before stomping away.
A pyre burned. The kindling were the bodies of Vex Goblins. The flames were blue.
They found a road. The edges of it were lined with teeth.
Eternity passed before they found it at last. It was a sharp shape on the horizon, set against the dull glow of ambient Vex energy, and Jaxson laughed when he saw what it was: a scuttled Hive warship halfway embedded in the rock. The shell was pale - not Lucent Brood faded green but ivory bone. A breach had torn out its side and was bound with human infrastructure. An airlock stood at the ground level, framed on either side by blood-red banners flying the rune of the Nastareth.
A man was waiting for them just outside it. He wore little but a dark biosuit and a simple helmet with a grill beneath its opaque visor. When they trudged down to him he inclined his head. "Strider Nimbus."
Nimbus paused. Without any preamble they fell to a knee. "Sire Fadix."
Fadix turned their head. "Ler'rux."
"Real name's Jaxson Ineta," Jaxson replied. He holstered his weapon and pulled the card out of transmat. "You left this for me?"
"Not I." The man hardly glanced at it. "Come. You're expected." He swiveled and walked inside, the airlock silently opening before him. Nimbus, unusually subdued, trudged after him.
"Lil' odd," Ghost said.
Jaxson grunted. "You think?"
They entered to find the place... empty. Other than Fadix and Nimbus, there wasn't another soul to be seen. The hallway beyond the airlock was a strange mix of Hive biomechanics meshed with recycled human components. The floors, where the shell must have been shattered during the crash, was overlaid with a layer of smooth steel. The ethereal yellow lights hanging from above were the work of ancient spellcraft. The Nastareth's mark could be seen everywhere - on the walls, on the doors, floating in the air as illusionary script.
Fadix took the lead, ambling along at a casual speed with his hands clasped behind his back.
"We really should be hurrying," Jaxson told him.
Nimbus shot him a look, though they didn't say anything. "Soon," Fadix responded, utterly nonplussed.
"We shouldn't hang around-"
"Soon." Then Fadix paused and tilted his head. "I see. Ler'rux, please wait in the atrium. Nimbus, come with me."
Jaxson frowned. "What-"
"Just do it," Nimbus snapped. They gestured down the main hall. "It's that way, there's a good dog."
He watched them go, hands shaking. "Ghost," Jaxson said in a quiet voice. "Where's the tomb?"
"Uh... lemme see... lot of Darkness coming through from the atrium? I don't know."
"Fine."
The atrium, he soon discovered, occupied the warship's former breeding pit. Instead of a chasm lined with metamorphosis cocoons and Thrall eggs it was given over to a flat plasteel deck dominated by a tall black marble statue. It depicted creatures of every shape and form, a couple of which resembled those in the Complex's wilderness, all coming to blows with one another or falling with blades in their throats. A number of them stacked together in the middle, hefting one another's weight. Atop those tower of bodies and limbs stood a human woman.
Maya Sundaresh.
Opposite her, garbed in cloak and armour, was a Hive witch of such proportions she may have been a Brood Queen. The three eyes glittered gold, set between a pair of massive horns. She offered Maya the hilt of a sacrificial knife, the pommel formed of some petrified Void-crystal. A faint feeling of Darkness emanated from it.
"Do you recognize her?"
Jaxson gave a start and whirled around, but no one was there. He scanned the room for sign of movement.
"I can hear a heartbeat," Ghost reported. "Move around, I'll triangulate a source. Or better yet, get them talking."
Jaxson exhaled slowly. "That's Sundaresh." He started circling to the right of the monument.
A scoff came from... somewhere. "Not her."
"The witch?"
"Who else?"
He balled his hands into fists. Jaxson didn't want to shoot up the place, or anyone in it really, but that hateful feeling was still there. It was becoming a struggle not to set everything ablaze. "Dunno. Doesn't look like any I've killed."
The voice laughed. "If you'd killed her, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Jaxson raised his head. It must've come from somewhere above, but there weren't any balconies or alcoves as far as he could see. "Does she have a name?"
"She does!"
"Care to share it?"
There was a long pause. Ghost stirred, "Behind you!"
"Ir Nôkk," the voice said, and even as Jaxson swivelled to face them they laid him out with surprising force. His raised fists were knocked aside and a glowing green blade flashed before his eyes. He roared and shoved himself up, regardless of whatever weapon they brandished-
But they were gone. A laugh resounded from somewhere on his left. His right. No, his left again. "Not there," it teased. "Nor there. Where am I?"
"I don't want to fight you," Jaxson said. He forced himself to stand at ease. "You're human?"
"Does it matter?"
"It might. It can."
"Not will?"
Jaxson snuck a look at the witch. She seemed to be looking down on him. Grinning at his misfortune. "It's complicated."
Another pause. "Why?"
"Because some aliens can be monstrous."
"You're one to talk." The voice was nearing.
Ghost groaned. "Moving too fast, can't pin them down. Jaxson..."
"'Spose I am." Jaxson closed his eyes. When he re-opened them they shone with the glamour of Truesight. And there - the faintest flicker of life, so fleeting it was hardly there at all. It struck, quick as a viper, and he caught it in a grapple. The blade sailed just past his face, millimetres away from taking out his eye, and he caught the arm holding it, tugging the invisible assailant close. The veil of un-light peeled away, leaving him face-to-face with another grinning skull.
This one was different. His gauntlets closed on rubbery biosuit, not coarse fur. The skull was a mesh of human and Hive features, elongated at the back and loaded with a strange cylinder over one eye. The tube winked - and a wave of revulsion and agony hit him so hard his spine snapped back and his vision danced with pure white. Jaxson cried out, collapsed, doused himself in a Sunspot. He lost precious seconds trying to blink the sensation away, and when he did the figure was gone.
No. Not gone. His Truesight remained, and so he saw them slither away - a shadow on the ground, a flattened mass, like an octopus squeezing through a crevice. It slid along the base of the monument, out of view, and emerged on the other side a paper-thin slice of black. It flashed forwards, impossibly quick, and Jaxson staggered back as the figure's true form popped back into shape right as they hurtled for him. No blade, not this time, just an amorphous mass he couldn't pin down. Not without killing.
Parts of it found the tiny, microscopic chinks in his armour and wormed their way inside. Claws raked over his skin, tightened around his neck, burning with invisible heat, a cold fire, it BURNED-
Jaxson formed a claw of Strand and swung, stopping only a finger's breadth away from the leering skull. "Enough," he wheezed. "Get off!"
His attacker laughed. Their fingers retracted as they sat up and levered themselves off. This time they stayed where they were, arms crossing and macabre helm cocking to the side. "You held back."
Jaxson pushed himself off. "No permanent damage," Ghost reported. "They were playing with you."
"Never hold back. Never." The skull's other eye - a visor, he thought - glinted in the wan light. Human after all. At least in part. "You are dead. Thrice-over."
"It won't stick."
"So I've heard."
He scowled. "Who are you?"
"Oh honey," though it must have been a trick of the light, the skull's grin seemed to widen, "I can be whoever you want me to be." Their form... changed. Biosuit became uniform. Skull-helm became hair, a face, truly human. The process was blink-quick, melting from one form to another, and in their stead stood Tatania Leite. Her head was still tilted, mouth curled up at the corners, shark eyes twinkling with mischief.
Jaxson recoiled. Tatania laughed. And changed. She- It became another. Silver skin, green hair swept back in a ridiculous mohawk, a collar formed from recycled solar-sail. One of the reporters from outside the Hall of Records. Another shift; limbs slithering out, longer, bulging with heavier muscle, frilly Neomuni fashions changing back to ink-black biosuit. Fidex looked at him with that grill-jawed helm.
His own body was moving long before his mind had caught up. The Strand claw tipped beneath the man's chin - not breaking the skin, not even the suit, the slick hum of psychic energies this close was as loud as a gunshot. "Enough," he whispered. "Stop it."
Features melted back to a modified skull. The creature's stance was tense. "So soon? We've hardly begun."
"Enough!" another voice barked.
Jaxson squashed the feeling of relief when Fidex - the real Fidex, he presumed - appeared, Nimbus and another human right behind him. The shapeshifter stepped back, gaze lingering on Jaxson. "I was hoping for a show," it said. "They were hoping for a show." It angled its helm upwards and, at last, he saw that the ceiling, which he had originally written off as layered on the recycled ribs of a long-dead Hive victim was actually lined with dark glass pods. Figures lurked within each, and of those pressed closest to the glass he saw the faint outline of more skulls. Different shapes, each and every one.
It was a whole army.
"Please," Fidex said, approaching with his hands held out. "Please." He removed his helmet, revealing a pale face and close-cropped hair, hard grey eyes that seemed to latch onto Jaxson and not let go. Strange scars slithered along his cheeks. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
Jaxson allowed the Strand to dissipate, arm falling back by his side. "We're here to fight off your attackers."
Fidex quizzically tilted his head. "Attackers?"
"Black Fleet troops, moving on the Nastareth's tomb."
The silence that followed his words was deafening. Fidex blinked. His expression remained neutral. "Oh dear. That's deeply upsetting."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Jaxson said impatiently. "Can you point me to it?"
"To what end?"
"To keep the bastards from... I don't know, using it? Breaking it? Something to do with opening a way into the city. Rohan ordered us to stop them."
"Rohan," the shapeshifter mused. "And he isn't here?"
"No," Nimbus said, oddly quiet. "He's not. Not his time."
"Nor yours, Nimbus?" the creature turned to them. It was definitely smiling.
"No. We're not here for... that."
"A relief, I'm sure."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Perish the thought." The creature glanced back at Jaxson. "Fidex, would it not be prudent to give them what they want? If Rohan believes there to be a threat…"
"I was thinking the same thing." Fidex looked up to the statue, directly at the Hive witch. "If these foes are set to come from Vex-space-"
"I never said that." Jaxson frowned. He looked at Nimbus but they seemed equally put-off. "I haven't said a thing about Vex-space. How do you..."
"You aren't the first to bear a warning, Ler'rux. Only the most direct." Fidex made a motion with his hands, forming the rune of the Nastareth with his fingers. The witch's eyes ignited with green flame. "There. The pyres are lit, but they won't burn forever. Whatever your business, do it now, before the Destroyer takes you."
"The hell's the Destroyer?" Ghost muttered. "Some kind of Hive trap?"
Jaxson glanced between all present. "We're good to go?"
"Sure are." Nimbus rolled their shoulders. "Fidex?"
Fidex bowed his head. "Of course. This will take but a moment." He flicked his hand, causing a green shimmer to sparkle in the air, and from it pulled a bone-coloured knife. Jaxson tensed; he could feel the Hive magic now, like blades scraping across his skin. Fidex tugged a glove free, held the knife aloft, and proclaimed, "The truest path is always the one less traveled by. Aiat."
Aiat, the ship whispered.
Knife found flesh. Blood spilled, but did not reach the floor. The edge drank it in the moment it left Fidex's ruined hand. Soulfire blazed, setting the very fabric of reality ablaze. Green embers traveled along the floor, the walls, rearranging the very ship. The statues stirred, they struggled, they roared and brandished their weapons to the far wall and it opened. Maya Sundaresh fell to her knees. The witch leaned over her, one arm held out to mark the way. "For Him," it hissed. "For all of them. For the truth."
"The truth," Maya Sundaresh rasped.
"Let's go." Nimbus passed Jaxson by. Neither Fadix nor the shapeshifter made to follow.
The new passage was lined with soulfire lanterns. Calcified remains of interred Hive warriors hung in frozen agony along the walls. Each of them tore at their own chests, ripping out their Worms by hand. The deeper they ventured, the larger the morphs they passed. By the time it ended Jaxson was looking at Darkblades and Knights large enough to be Princes in their own rights.
A set of double doors barred the way. Unlike the temple they were neither Hive nor human handiwork; rather they were sculpted from the same obsidian material as the Pyramids. They bore the same strange etchings, the same faint flicker of orange light, the same stifling feeling of Darkness - as if the rest of the ship wasn't Dark enough.
Nimbus paused with their hand on it. They exhaled deeply, leaned their head against the door and said, "You don't understand."
"Understand?"
"You won't be able to appreciate how privileged you are in this moment. You aren't deserving, Warlord. You never will be, but somehow you made it here. The place from whence He delivered us." They turned. "It'll hurt. When you see Him, you'll fight it. That's who you are. You're a kid with a gun and magic powers; the only thing you know how to do is fight. And it's going to kill you."
"Is this your idea of a warning?"
"...Sure, why not." Nimbus barked a laugh. "A fucking warning! Yeah, let's roll with that."
"What's past here?"
"He is. Along with every person we reshaped in his image. This is the court of truth and there's nothing more honest than death. Everything you are is a lie. You don't belong here." Nimbus' voice lowered to a growl. "And you never will."
The doors shuddered. They rumbled open, pale blue light streaming out, and with quiet horror Jaxson saw the truth of their words. At the far end of the crypt, held upright by faint spellcraft, hovered a body. It was twenty feet at least from crown to toe. Arms crossed over its chest, claws clutching its pauldrons. It was undeniably Hive - and undeniably dead, though even the sight of it was enough to send Jaxson's heart racing.
It had the appearance of a Warpriest clad in ivory shell. At its back stood stiffly a pair of tattered leathery wings. Glyphs painted in old blood marked its bracers, its sabatons, its cuirass and the sides of its great helm.
The Nastareth. In the flesh.
It stood poised over a dais of Pyramid blackstone. There was an ugly rend across its chest where its stomach would have been. A hadium blade stained black with Hive blood lay on the floor in front of it, alongside a smaller utility knife of human make.
The air was thick with power. Wisps of energy rose from below. Through cracks in the blackstone shone a shimmering font of... something not quite Strand. It felt decayed, imperfect, missing that fine-tuned edge. With it rode wave upon wave of hatred. Shatter, the chamber seemed to say. Shatter. Shatter. Shatter.
"I am Shattered," the Nastareth's body whispered.
Jaxson gave a start. He tried raising his weapon but Nimbus caught it, pushed it towards the floor. "What did I say?!" they hissed. "Don't give them anything to work with."
"Who?!" he hissed right back, the urge to fight, fight, fight singing in his veins.
"The Destroyer," Nimbus replied. As if that explained anything.
Jaxson reluctantly holstered the Manticore. The Arkborn caused his gauntlet to tighten. Something is wrong. What is it?
Hive, he explained.
It said no more.
He stepped forward. This, Nimbus did not stop. Jaxson's feet moved almost of their own volition. A morbid curiosity overtook him, and though he fought to keep from lashing out, this he allowed himself. He approached the Nastareth, marching alone across the length of the crypt, and he saw that the Prince was not alone. Along the walls, standing in perfect ranks, were... Vex-men. There was no other way to describe them. Each was tall and powerful, shaped like no construct he'd ever seen before, and few were matching. Some even bore the half-converted remains of humans: hands, thighs, a couple of ribs, one had a skull bulging with Goblin-eyes.
Cloud Striders. The ones who lost their battle with their augments. They watched him - not quite dead, not quite alive, but certainly conscious. Their red optics marked his every step. Jaxson shivered; if he'd shot... would they have attacked?
He turned back to the Nastareth rather than contemplate that train of thought any longer. The Prince waited as he reached the dais, as he climbed the steps, as a strange feeling of déjà vu overcame him, except... it felt like he was in the wrong place. Like he was supposed to take someone else's position. Like he was the-
"What was his name?"
Once more does the witch Ir Nôkk make herself a bother. She arrives swathed in the purple of the King's Blood and she anoints her arrival with honourable duel, dragging one of my consorts, screaming, into the arms of the Unseen Sister. She finds ways to endear herself to me and it chafes my skin like broken shell. My study is my sanctuary, my place of tormented rest, and she brings no knives into the heart of my abode. A deceitful show of weakness, one she knows she betrays openly and still carries onward, armed yet with hex and claw.
By all my princely rights I should tear out her windpipe. I am not certain why I refrain.
"His name was lost," I answer, stubbornly, as I part the last of the offerings with a blade honed by caustic vacuum. My wings shift against my back; I recall the sting of acid clouds and biting winds, and I yearn once more for the barren world left behind. The campaign was long and bountiful and many great citadels were emptied of their deadly secrets. We leave nothing behind but glassed soil and a single violet throne - the only dignity we will ever bestow the people of that once-verdant place. "I threw it to the void in the moment I salted his earth with fire."
"But where, then, is the King's tribute?" she sneers. "What legacies shall you offer the World Graves?"
"A notch and nothing more, should the King demand it," I tell her, irritated. "My Queen bids me to visit unto the seventh world of the blue sun a quick ending. What spoils are taken are for Her alone."
"The King is your God."
"As is my Queen. She is my patron, icon of my uplifting. She is the promise of truth and I am a creature who despises secrecy."
"Then you have found yourself in the wrong employ," Ir Nôkk whispers slyly. "For between yourself and the Deepest in the Coven crash waves of lies. These tides are not in your favour, o blessed Nastareth. The King is your better monarch. His inquisition peels aside these deceits. Pledge your sword to His crown."
"Is that why you have come?" I demand - a show if nothing else. She is match for any Covenmother; her visage is hazy with illusions and her words drip with the poisons of falsehoods. Is that why I humour her? The slow, succulent joy of solving a puzzle the proper way? The thought strikes me deeply and I find sense in it. She is a game to be completed, and I am not brute enough to shatter the pieces by virtue of impatience. "No. No, you come at your own behest."
"It is said that the Argency of the D'yiir fought with ten swords apiece. It is said you cut away each one and chewed them into shapes of sacred fire."
I scoff. "Who says such things? They deceive you."
"Then it is not true?"
"No!" I bare my teeth and hiss my air betwixt fangs like sabres. "He fought with six swords, for he only had six arms to wield."
"A lesser victory but a victory nonetheless." Her praise is biting and I bristle on instinct; my wings flare but I say nothing. There is only the offering to shape, not her bait.
"His swords were plasma-fanged orbital shapers," I carry on. "He built them to keep at bay the flotsam of the other six worlds upon their breaking, when I sprinkled his palace with their remains." I calm myself, finding solace in the memory. "The Argency was an artisan, but his craft was ill-constructed. My sons and daughters lanced them with Worm-words and turned them upon their bearer. The House of the D'yirr was founded atop a bedrock of weakness. My blade toppled his."
"You Queen will feed richly."
"My Queen will feed," I say coolly. "But it is She who will decide if my offerings are satisfactory." With that I shave the last of the soul-kindling - fuel for carrion-pyres to come. Already my Worm trembles with anticipation, prickling my stomach with its needling spines. It will feast before long, but there will not be enough to settle it. There never is. I know this. I know this and I, like many, have come to hate this loving act, this symbiosis of teeth and chains.
"You are a hound, collared for your master's conceited purpose," Ir Nôkk laughs; every lash of her barbed speech strikes me like a thorned whip. "Her own progeny march with their heads held high and their stations much vaunted. You are caged here, o Nastareth, even amongst this fleet of your own making. Set yourself free. There is a knife for you, offered by the King. Take it."
I do not flinch. I do not falter. I let her draw blood, because the pain is nothing but a reminder of life and its myriad luxuries. It is a pleasure to be alive; it is a competition, and not one in which I will so easily concede defeat. If there is any forever-sought truth, it is this: to be alive is to be right. To die is to be proven a lie.
I am truth.
"I am free to choose," I say carefully, measuring my words. "And I have chosen."
"Her children-"
"Fear me." I smile. "I have made sure of that."
Ir Nôkk regards me with new measure, begrudging. "You are ever a stubborn little larva of Kaharn Atoll, wriggling amidst bloated carcasses."
"I am the Nastareth. I am the monument of truth-pain. I am the hardship of the northward path. And as the Sister of Shapes is my witness, I am the final necessity, the only necessity." I point to her with my blade, still bright with indigo un-light. "You test me, Unsinger. You go too far."
"I press your shell for weakness," Ir Nôkk gnashes. Her eyes are pale and deathly and her horns are long and dark. It paints a terrible shadow against the glare of crackling soulfire. "What is this act?"
Love. It is love. So sayeth the King.
I harrumph and turn back to my work. To the care of a Knight-son I place my offerings and through a rupture he returns to the mesmerizing halls of High Coven - home if any there was. How I miss the marshes, the cathedrals, the whispers and the all-seeing gaze of one who has made Herself an archive of every secret. There are still so many schemes to unearth, so many falsehoods to tear aside; she guides me, secretively, to pull the curtains back and I do so with gusto.
"You will know me on the worlds yet to come," I say. "You will find me in the malice you sow into the flesh of newborn minds, across the pale hide of pedlar gods. Begone from my crypt; I have no more time for you."
Ir Nôkk is exiled with a laugh, banished from my presence with word and will - and the illusion of her shape dissipates into toxic mist. The fumes sear my lungs. I breathe in deep.
Love it shall be.
Jaxson staggered back. Alien sensations, emotions so great and deep he could hardly comprehend them, washed over his mind. A pit grew in his stomach - a pit with teeth and the desire to feed, to bite, to punish. He scratched at his belly so hard his nails cracked and fingers snapped, trying in vain to break through his own armour.
"Jaxie! Jaxie, focus!"
Ghost's light flashed before his eyes. The episode faded and he found himself at the foot of the dead Prince, brought down to his knees. A wave of healing Light washed over him, banishing the rage, the hate, the memory. Like a douse of cold water he blinked and saw the world with sudden clarity. "What...?"
"Jaxie." Ghost pressed into his chest. "Fuck. You were... I don't know. There was a Darkness spike, Strand and... It was like... I don't know! Are you okay?!"
...He didn't know. By all rights he should've been angry again. He should've been scared. Instead he felt... sad? At a loss, anyways. Like an opportunity had passed him by, but for what?
"Say something!"
"I'm here," Jaxson said. It was the most honest thing he could tell him. "I'm here."
"Traveler above..." Ghost reluctantly pulled away and looked up at the Prince. "This thing is still active, ontologically."
With some minor difficulty Jaxson levered himself back onto his feet. It felt wrong. Like the muscles weren't in the right places, like his body weighed differently, like he was expecting rough-shod claws to dig into the floor instead of heavy boots. "Is it dead?"
"Yeah. I think so. I mean..." Ghost expanded his shell and scanned - first the corpse, then the dais, then the surrounding chamber. "This place is a mess. Hive stuff feels like it's torn out of the Sea of Screams, everted - y'know, like Oryx's Dreadnought? But there's no charge. No spirit. Architect's gone. By all rights we should be seeing some decay."
Jaxson blinked. "But High War-"
"High War is decaying. Soon as Akka kicks the bucket for realsies, which Osiris says will take a couple more years, that's it. But there's no Worm God here. And if the Neomuni are right, then this has been here since the start. That's centuries. Over half a whole millennium."
He turned. Nimbus wasn't paying them any mind; they marched slowly along the ranks of decommissioned Cloud Striders, looking at each one in turn. The dead stared right back in unnerving silence. "Why haven't the Vex converted everything?" Jaxson asked aloud, frowning.
Ghost turned about. "I... I don't know. Nothing here makes sense. Radiolaria's the most infectious thing in the universe, nothing... except... hold on." He flit over to the nearest Vex-man without an ounce of fear. Jaxson followed, nerves a-fire. What if they grabbed him? What if they took it as a provocation?
But they only watched. Even when Ghost came to a stop within hand's reach of one, it just... looked at him.
"Darkness," Ghost grimly reported. "What stops radiolaria if not Darkness? We learned that on Europa."
"But these aren't Exos. And Clarity's-"
"They don't need Clarity. Clovis had his sponsor, the Neomuni have theirs." Ghost retreated back to his side. "That's why they come here. The Cloud Striders. They don't turn into Vex because they come to receive the Prince's blessing."
"And those who don't..." Jaxson recalled the statues. A lesser kind of conversion, but just as fatal. "But it doesn't work. Doesn't totally stop it."
"With how many augments they shove into their bodies, no wonder. But it's not the full thing either." Ghost hesitated. "Jaxie, I don't think these are really Vex. They're... they're still people, somewhere inside. That's why they're not changing the place up. They still have control. Or someone does."
"The Prince."
"Or whoever buried Him here. You saw the witch statue. The Nastareth wasn't the only Hive at work."
"She wasn't of His brood."
"Sorry?"
"Ir Nôkk. I saw... I think it was one of His memories."
"So that's what it was." Ghost scanned him. "Yeah, Darkness residue. It might've thought you were a Cloud Strider so the spell 'blessed' you too. Your vision might be a by-product. Maybe these memories are the truth Nimbus talked about?"
"I don't know." Jaxson felt troubled. "It wasn't some great revelation or pivotal moment. It was... intimate. Ir Nôkk came to visit the Nastareth. She's a follower of Oryx while He served the Witch Queen, but they were close. I think they were... flirting? No, they were definitely flirting."
"Like... flowers? Poetry?"
"Contemplating how to kill each other."
"Right. Hive. Yeah, that seems like how it'd go. So was that it?"
"I think so." Jaxson felt a tingle of static and looked down. The Arkborn trembled, electricity pulsing up and down his gauntlet. What is it?
Proximity alarm. Our enemies come.
"Fuck." Jaxson twisted his arm until the gauntlet's blade's activated, sweeping through the air to catch lines of Vex-code. "Fuck. They're here."
"Now?"
"Now. Strider!" He turned and yelled. "Hostiles inbound!"
Nimbus nodded and took up position. "Where from?"
Not below. Whatever was down there was playing hell on Vex systems. He followed the source of the alarmed signals until he found himself facing the Prince again. "Behind the big guy!"
"Not enough room-"
"I'll cut them off. Hold here." Jaxson engaged the gauntlet's injectors, fired a command into local Vex-space, and narrowed his eyes as reality shifted around him. In a flash of pale lightning the Network enveloped him, drawing him into its suspended space, and deposited him in the midst of a room that... didn't seem all that different. The walls were blocky and blue, the Vex-men were gone, the Prince was notably absent, but in His place lurked a choppy after-image absent of all colour.
-enigma anathema a falsehood ringed in truth the grave in peril corrupt corrupt corrupt sever all connections error error error-
The machine minds flee.
Jaxson grimaced. They do. You know them?
Of them. They are greedy.
Yes.
But I have never known them to fear.
That means something strong is coming. Something they can't understand.
Like you.
Possibly.
The Arkborn paused. He named me Fulminator. I hunted his enemies.
The Emperor?
Yes.
Jaxson exhaled slowly. His forces will be here.
I know. I will help you kill them.
Can I trust you?
Yes.
Jaxson lowered his arm and prepared to draw his submachine gun. "'Spose we'll see."
"What?"
"Not you. How close are they?"
"You can't feel it?"
"Feel what- Oh fuck's sake!" A dark hand punched through the closest wall. Void-wreathed talons tore Vex geometry aside. The massive form of a Tormenter shoved its scythe through and began wriggling after it. Its shining head-stump found him and locked on. With a roar it shoved itself through and swung for his head.
Jaxson ducked, caught the haft and pulled. If not for the Light pulsing in his blood he probably would have been dragged away with it. Instead, the Tormenter stumbled forward - right into his waiting Strand claw. Emerald Darkness ripped wetly through slick Resonant strands. Branches burst from the Tormentor's chest, calcifying the moment they met Vex-air, and it gave a haunting wail as its internal organs solidified.
He tugged free and fired through the breach behind it; a curse in Eliksni hit his ears. A pair of Arc-shielded Captains in pale Salvation colours teleported on either side of him and lunged with power swords activated. A Sentinel Shield formed on his left arm, just in time to deflect one of the Fallen, while the other he was forced to take - or would've if not for the Arkborn. The moment the blades found his body-shield they were sapped of their power. The Arkborn, the Fulminator, counterattacked with a burst of energy - enough to overload the Captain's shield and fry them within their own armour, reducing them to dancing sparks.
Jaxson swung out with his shield. The humming edge found the other Captain's neck, tearing through absorption shield, plate armour and organic exoskeleton like it wasn't even there. Both pieces melted into disarrayed Vex data. This was a place of pure information, and while Splicers had the means to reconstitute themselves to pass through, they could not assert themselves as beings of true matter. Not as creatures saturated in Light and Dark could - but the deaths were still just as permanent. Vex logic demanded it.
"Nimbus?" he barked into his helm's radio. An Arcbolt rebounded off his pauldron. He raised his shield and ducked behind the Tormentor's body. "I've got contact."
:Understood. What're you looking at?:
"Fallen reavers. Killed one Tormentor-" he paused "-and I can hear another. Might be more behind it. I can try to hold off the brunt but there will be runners. Eliksni are quick."
"And Scorn," Ghost added. "I'm reading Dark Ether."
:The fuck are Scorn?:
"Undead Eliksni."
:Undead... what?:
"You'll know 'em when you see 'em," Jaxson snapped. He fired blindly into the breach. A shrill scream rewarded his efforts. "Just watch that they don't get close. They like to bite."
:Will it turn me?:
"Turn- what? No. It'll kill you. Dark Ether melts a human nervous system. Traveler above, fucking turn?"
:When you say undead I think zombie!:
"I'm undead."
:Am I wrong?:
"I don't think you know what Risen are."
:You're unnatural, that's what. Holding position. Kill as many as you can. They must not reach the Nastareth.:
Jaxson grunted. A slip-quick Vandal darted around the Tormentor and fired off its shock pistol. He took the shots, plated his body in crystal and barreled into them shoulder-first. The Vandal came apart. A pair of bellowing Wraiths took up its mantle, followed shortly by another Tormentor. He tore them to pieces, roaring.
It cut short far too soon.
A glimmering blade looped around his neck, pierced his shield, armour and biosuit as easily as Light cut Darkness, and neatly opened his windpipe. Jaxson staggered away, blinking fast. He clutched at his throat, twisted around and threw his shield. His assailant - a tall, wiry thing of shadow and pale hair - cackled and disappeared in the shade of a blocky megastructure.
He didn't die. His Light was enough to knit skin and meat back together, but the wound... it could've been lethal from the get-go. Jaxson caught a Scorn Chieftain bearing down on him, smashed a glowing fist through its midsection, and growled as something nipped his heel. His leg disappeared beneath him and his visor filled with rotted teeth. He froze the Chieftain solid and shoved them away. More blades lashed at his arms, points hooking into flesh and slicing tendons. He thrashed about, doused himself in a Sunspot, and lunged to his feet.
There were more of them: svelte figures borne of solid Darkness, some with hair so stiff and faded they looked to belong to corpses. They clutched sickles of wicked forging. Their features were remarkably human, though difficult to make out. He only saw their teeth when they drew back lips to smile, ivory chips filed to glistening points. Even their ears were sharp, lacking lobes while the tips thinned and rose up to frame their long faces. Their eyes burned with a blue-green flame, though they exuded no heat. Softly-glowing markings doffed their umbral hides. They each stood at the height of a particularly well-fed Eliksni Captain, but their leader was a head taller yet - as well as bearing four arms instead of two. On its chest smoked a bloody rune of two curling horns around a ring of eyes.
"Reading some kind of radiation," Ghost warned. "Paracausal emanations. Whatever these are, they aren't biological."
He figured as much. Jaxson aimed and fired - but the shadowy creatures physically bent around each bullet. As soon as the mag clicked empty, they returned to their former positions. Still smiling. Still whole.
"Liiiiiight-thiiiiiing," one of them gargled. Its grasp on English was a butchery, its voice like the crashing noise of running water. Liquid dribbled from the corners of its flashing mouth. "Forever-meat. Eat. Eat. Eat."
Its fellows hushed it with whispers of steel sliding along bare skin. The leader perked up, pinned Jaxson with a leering look, and pronounced, "Wolf! Wolf. A good skull. I will make space." It paused. "But you rise. Rise and rise and rise! How to keep it?"
Jaxson glanced over his shoulder. Scorn milled about the breach, but they did nothing more than watch. When he turned back he found the lead shadow-man had all but closed the distance between them. He formed a fiery Hammer and held it in front of him. The four-armed creature inspected it closely. "Too bright," it grumbled. "Too bright! Must quench. Quench your Light."
He swung for it. The creature dodged - too fast, too easily, like trying to catch an Arcstrider in a flow state. Jaxson refrained from chasing it as it hopped away; it was a bait to make him overextend, to leave his flanks open.
"Must. For Sin-Father. Strife-Maker. Terror. Must quench. Must... Slayer. Slayer!" It twirled around, raced into where the shadows grew strongest, reached through and plucked out a wriggling shape. Before Jaxson's very eyes an Eliksni twice Irxan's size materialized in the impossible Vex-space, snarling and cursing in several alien tongues.
Eramis.
The creature threw her to the bright floor. Others crowded in with grasping hands, snatching her wrists, her ankles, her shoulder, throwing her down to her knees and holding out her limbs so that she couldn't move, couldn't get away. The leader perched behind her, one clawed hand closed around her helm's right horn and forcing her to look at him. Another set of talons traced across her rebreather with creeping care.
"Quench. How?" The thing pressed its face to the side of her own. A black tongue covered in bony barbs briefly snaked out to press against her bared skin. Eramis shut her eyes and tried to crane away, but its grip was solid. "Speak."
"Jaxie, they're asking how to kill you."
"Got that," he grunted. But he didn't move.
"Pawn," Eramis gasped. "Please."
The shadow-man leaned back. "Pawn? No no no. No pawns. Not here."
"I can help-"
"Like you helped on Seraph Station?" Jaxson growled.
Eramis hissed. "Eido is alive because of me-"
"She was only in danger because of you. Just like every Eliksni on Europa."
The creatures watched. Smiled. Some of them laughed. "It does not want you," the leader whispered to Eramis. "It does not need you, little Kell-ling."
She shut her eyes. "Enough-"
"There is a place for you too." It brandished a sickle and pressed it against her neck, just short of breaching her biosuit. "Place for royalty."
"There's another attack!"
Jaxson flinched.
"Please, pawn-"
He fired. The shadow-men slithered away, unharmed; he never intended to kill them. Jaxson closed the distance as quickly as he could and shot his fist through the air. The Thunderclap caught the lead monster just as it materialized and flung it back. He dropped the barrel of his gun to Eramis' face. "Where from?"
She didn't hesitate. "Shield generators. They intend to breach a section of the wall from within."
"I'll tell Nimbus," Ghost said quickly.
Jaxson glanced down at her. "If you're lying..."
"I know the stakes, pawn."
"...Fine." He stepped back, giving her room to rise up. "How?"
"Mandrakes." Eramis gestured with a wave of her claws to the pack of shadow-men closing around them. They didn't seem all that concerned with how things had changed. "Followers of the Nightmare. Your paltry defences won't keep them out." She paused. Jaxson felt building Darkness prickle across his skin. Eramis formed a blade of Stasis and pointed it to the nearest alien. "I won't abide another Whirlwind."
"Of course now's when you decide to do the right thing." Jaxson closed his fist, willing the Void to wrap around him like a shell. "This is a distraction?"
"Eia."
"And your message-"
"A warning." Eramis clicked her mandibles irritably. "I was tricked too."
"Nimbus knows," Ghost reported. "Trying to get a message city-side, but this place is too deep. You'll need to reach Irxan."
Jaxson scowled. "Going to be a little difficult."
"Can we trust her?"
"Ghost, we don't have a fucking choice."
If Eramis heard she gave no inclination.
"Alright." He squared his shoulders and took to facing those opposite. It felt wrong putting his back to Eramis of all people, but like he said, there wasn't much he could do. "How do we kill 'em?"
"I don't know."
"Great."
AN: As per usual, huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing.
Coming to the end of the Neomuna storyline, I reckon another chapter or two, before 40k really comes into play.