XIX: The Black Library

Madoka tumbled through the portal and almost gave a strangely shaped vehicle a head butt. Behind her, a tumor of similar grey energy pulsed lightly as if it had a heartbeat. That was where they entered the Webway; what used to be a portal turned into a large cancerous "growth" not long after she barged into the artificial dimension.

The Webway swirled around the small crowd of human visitors. Grey wisps of unnatural energy around them provided what little illumination there was in the pitch blackness of twisted space. It was a wonder that they were all standing on somewhat solid ground, as whatever was holding them up under their feet was indistinguishable from the darkness around them. There was no sense of direction, orientation, or even time. The threads of grey energy that illuminated the space grew in every direction and wavered like burning fire, yet they were out of reach. This made some people squeamish; others simply vomited even though they were battered, hungry, and frightened.

They were frightened for good reason: they were being surrounded by a veritable army of aliens not dissimilar from the Far Seer and their vehicles. Madoka assumed that they were her kin, or even the remainder of her army yet to make through the original portal.

She quickly stood up and surveyed her surroundings. There were three large hovercrafts, each having a turret with a large purple crystal at the end of the barrel. Trios of similarly-sized vehicles held their ground to her flanks; Madoka could see that those were based on the same chassis as the large hovercrafts but with less powerful weapons. Smaller vehicles scattered between the larger ones, some slightly bigger than the largest motorcycle Madoka had seen, others slightly smaller than a compact sedan and all of them hovering like the larger vehicles.

"Fire Prisms, Falcon Transports and jet bikes," He identified them for her, "The Far Seer wanted to bring a highly mobile mechanized infantry force, as is the norm for their combat doctrine."

"Should we be concerned?"

"Always be concerned regarding the Eldar. They are duplicitous creatures."

"They helped us escape the…" Madoka paused. "They helped us escape!"

"They are not altruistic. Their actions only serve to advance their agenda. In the ten thousand years of dealing with them, they had never once stood to gain nothing from their actions."

"Is that because they're selfish, or is that because you haven't made a serious attempt at talking with them?" Madoka snapped at Him psychically as she stood between the vehicles and the group of frightened civilians. Homura, Hitomi, Kyouko and Sayaka stood by her side while the wounded were looked after. The Far Seer and the Pathfinder were nowhere to be seen.

"Both," He replied after a long pause. The vehicles trained their weapons at Madoka, and a small bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. The weapons were not capable of harming her or her people, but she was not worried about them. The more pressing question would be what the intentions of the Eldar were.

"Stand down." Out came a commanding telepathic presence and the hovering vehicles visibly lowered as if they were powered down. Dozens, if not scores, of warriors streamed out from the shadows, forming a veritable army in bright Technicolor.

Madoka could feel Homura tense and her power flare. Laying a hand on Homura's hand, she quietly gripped it for her to calm down. The telepathic command was issued by the Far Seer, she could tell, and there was no hostility in that command.

"Far Seer," she greeted the alien woman again as Kirahla came out of the shadows. Azrael stood behind his leader, his rifle slung on his back, but he was not alone; a handful of similarly shrouded aliens with similar-looking rifles stood behind him. Madoka could only speculate that they were of similar occupation and skill as the Pathfinder.

"Kaname Madoka of the Imperium," the Far Seer took off her helmet and let her long, silver hair flow down her back like a waterfall. "I wish the circumstances were better. We wish to assist you in your ascension to the leader of the mon-keigh as you intend to do."

"What are you plotting?" His voice boomed into everyone's mind and the Eldar force seemed startled.

"Such suspicion. We merely wish to assist your efforts, for it is to our mutual benefit," the Far Seer strained a smile. Power leaked from Madoka like water pouring from a mesh. It made everyone around her—especially the Eldar—nervous: some of them fidgeted with their weapons. "We can provide food and shelter for your people in our Craftworld while you pursue your goal. We ask only that you return to our Craftworld and retrieve them once you succeed."

"Such altruistic philanthropy is not characteristic of your species," He stopped Madoka's response before she could utter a single word. She growled with a scowl, but made no attempt to interrupt the conversation. "You are seeking to gain our favor by doing us a service. Or, perhaps, you are planning to ransom us with the lives of our people?"

The Far Seer smiled, as if that statement was expected: "I am certain that whatever course of action you take, it would be perilous even for you, Kaname Madoka, as you are currently the most wanted target of the Great Enemy in the entire universe. In that case, it is better to entrust your people to a third party that would protect and feed them, than to plunge them into danger by merely being around you."

"Very well," He sighed, recognizing that the Far Seer's analysis was sound. "They shall not reduce in number, even by one, and they shall be physically healthy and mentally stable. Only if you do all of those, will you earn your people a seat at the negotiating table. These terms are not negotiable. Are we understood?"

"It has been a pleasure dealing with you, Kaname Madoka of the Imperium," the Far Seer smiled and extended a hand, which Madoka took rather eagerly.

"Allow me to say my goodbyes, and then we'd be on our way," Madoka nodded with a firm handshake with the Far Seer. The alien's hand was armored, but Madoka could feel the warmth of life through it.

"Very well, but be swift. Our enemies are on the prowl even in this dimension, and we cannot afford to waste any time."

Madoka turned around to address the group of refugees and realized how lucky they were to escape with most of their lives intact. It mattered not what they did before the entire incident; each of them looked like beggars on the street. Their clothes were little more than dirtied rags, and most of them sustained some injury in one form or another: scratches, bruises and scrapes abound, but at least none of them were life threatening.

"I'm sorry, everyone… but I will have to leave you for a while," she said with a strained smile. "You'll be safe and sound in their hands."

"Madoka," Junko whispered to her daughter, standing right in front of her.

"Mom…" She breathed and looked into Junko's eyes. With the changes to her body, she was already as tall as her mother. "Mom, can I ask you a favor? Can you please take care of these people for me?"

"I'm going with you," Junko said to Madoka's surprise. "I don't care how dangerous it is. You need support and care, and I'm not going to back down this time. I'm not afraid."

Madoka was silent for a little bit. She averted her eyes from Junko, glancing back at Homura who stood behind her and slightly to her left before giving her mother an answer: "But I am, mom… I want you and dad and Tatsuya to be safe. I want all of you to be happy, so… you can't follow me… not this time…"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. The refugees around them watched as the two woman—one their savior, the other her progenitor—faced each other, invisible emotions boiling and churning inside them.

"… Okay," Junko finally responded, looking down at Madoka's feet. She took a small step forward, and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Come back soon, okay? We'll be waiting for you, wherever we are."

"… Yes… Yes, mom…" Madoka returned the embrace and finally broke down. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she descended into a sobbing mess in her mother's arms.

"We need to get moving," He interrupted as Madoka's weeping settled down somewhat. "The Enemy will not rest until we are all dead. We must move and strike swiftly before they can consolidate their forces and render our efforts null."

"… He's right, Madoka," Junko released her arms and gently removed Madoka from the hug. "Your dad and I will take care of everything else. Go."

"… Thanks, Mom." Madoka hastily wiped her tears from her cheeks and turned to the Far Seer: "Take care of these people for me, okay? I'll be back soon."

"We will." The Far Seer smiled and nodded to Madoka's satisfaction.

She then turned to Homura and the Magical Girls. Although Kyouko and Hitomi had blood caked on their clothes, they both beamed Madoka an understanding smile. Neither Sayaka nor Homura ever left Madoka's side; Madoka knew that both of them were determined to follow her to the bitter end. The Inquisitor and what remained of the 444th stood up and stood beside her. There was no need for words; all her companions were ready.

Madoka then found Azrael with her eyes and her mind. "Miss Mami, I will be on my way," she said telepathically, cracking a smile on her tear-stained face.

"I'll make sure these people are safe. Come back soon, Madoka," Mami responded in a revelation that seemed to startle some of the Eldar, "I'll prepare cake and tea for you when you get back."

"Let us depart," He boomed, and Madoka started walking away from the crowd of refugees. Her companions followed her; soon the Eldar army and the group of people disappeared into the void behind her.

"We will need to talk about how we can work together better," Madoka grunted quietly to Him as they walked.

"All in due time, my child," He smiled, "All in due time."

Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed sighed heavily as he settled into his command post on Luna. Due to his valiant defense of Cadia against daunting odds during the most recent Black Crusade, he had been chosen for this task, but he was not the least bit happy about it.

Battlefleet Solar had been recalled. Battlefleet Gothic, Agripnaa and Armageddon were on their way to the Sol Sector. All available Space Marine chapters—even those on crusades of penance—were summoned. All elements of Ordo Malleus and Ordo Hereticus had been recalled. Every order of the Adeptus Sororitas were marshaled. The Assassinatorum temples were fully mobilized. Even the immense Explorator fleets of the Mechanicum had been ordered to return to Mars. But the Lord Castellan still feared that it may not be enough.

There was a Warp Storm brewing in the Asteroid Belt between Mars and Terra. From this festering wound of the Materium, unholy nightmares would emerge and devour the seat of the Imperium.

The Emperor prevented any major incursions into the Sol Sector for as long as He had been interred on the Golden Throne, but it seemed that even He could not maintain the ward much longer. The Lord Castellan suspected that such a terrible failure of the ward was related to the brief outage of the Astronomican a small while ago, but he could only speculate like the rest of his command staff and even his colleagues in the Imperial Navy.

He rubbed his forehead and stood up. A short and stout man, he was glad that the 8th Cadian did not desert him during the Black Crusade, but he could not say the same about his hair. Folding his hands behind him, he strolled through a lavishly decorated but short hallway to the War Room, where most of his staff worked.

Everyone in the room snapped to attention as he entered. With a small wave of his hand he gestured them to continue working, and then he took out a box of cigars from his coat pocket. Quietly cutting off the end with a simple cigar cutter, he then lit the delicious tobacco treat and inhaled deeply, strolling to the front of the wall-sized hololith screen at the back of the post as he did so. The screen showed the force distribution of the Sol sector. The large violet circle sat right where the fledgling Warp Storm was like a sore on otherwise unblemished skin.

The Fabricator General had positioned what warships he had between the Warp Storm and Mars as due precaution, but Creed knew that the gesture had more meaning than simply military strategy. On Terra, nothing could be taken at face value, he had learned; the deceit and duplicity of these politicians would have earned them all a las bolt to the cranium on Cadia, but on Terra they were shielded by red tape as thick and durable as battleship armor.

Fundamental changes to the Imperium's political atmosphere was an almost insurmountable task. It was a decrepit empire too big to die quickly. Nothing short of the miraculous return of the Emperor would rejuvenate such a morbid beast, Creed was certain. Still, as long as He sat on the Golden Throne, Creed would perform his duty to Him and to His people with distinction and honor.

His cigar sizzled as he drew another deep breath. The flavor seeped into his nostrils and his lungs, giving him a jolt of pleasantness as he continue to stare at the large purple circle. The Fabricator General did not want to participate in Terra's defense. It was a tactically sound decision: without the Mechanicus' Explorator fleets, the Fabricator General had traditionally relied on the Imperium to provide defense for Mars. The simple possibility of Chaos ships streaming out of the nascent Warp Storm terrified the Fabricator General for good reason, and Creed could not assign blame to him at all.

Even though he had no authority over the Navy, the Mechanicus' defensive posture still presented an inconvenience for him in terms of logistics and supply. Though Terra was home to dozens of billions of humans, most of them were clerks in the Administratum or the Ministorum. Unlike Cadia, Terra itself had little room for ammunition storage or even war machines, relying primarily on the assumption that any invader would have to punch through all the defenses in Segmentum Solar as well as annihilate Luna and Mars before it could establish a foothold on Terra. In the face of a nascent Warp Storm within spitting distance of the Emperor, such an assumption would be fatal.

Luckily the defense readiness of Luna was much better. Home to massive caverns full of ammunition, heavy weapons and wargear, Luna itself was a nigh-impenetrable fortress bristling with anti-ship lance batteries and Nova cannons. As long as Luna was in orbit, the enemy would not be able to establish a foothold on Terra. However, once they do breach Luna—as Creed was certain they would if given enough time—the defense on Terra would rely on the supply line between it and Mars.

Battlefleet Solar stood by between the Warp Storm and Terra. Still recovering from the horrendous losses it took from the 13th Black Crusade, the Battlefleet nonetheless remained a serious threat to whoever that wanted to assault Terra. Still, without support, the fleet would not last long. The closest Battlefleet—Armageddon—was a couple of days out, but Astropathic contact with them was spotty at best. Whoever created this foul Warp Storm had to have been disrupting psychic communication from and to the system. Other Battlefleets were weeks, months, or even years out; they would never make it on time. Besides, the most strategic target the enemy had was the Astronomican; if it would fall, the Imperium would certainly fall apart.

The Lord Castellan flicked the butt of his cigar into a saucer-sized ashtray and took out another. He expected no reinforcements. There would most likely be bitter fighting against the Traitors and their foul minions on Luna like what happened on Cadia, and the space lane would most likely remain open due to the close proximity to Mars. Supply would not be a problem, even without the Astronomican.

Every inch of soil would be fertilized with the blood of heretics and martyrs. Every pebble on Luna would be pound to dust and scattered to the cosmos. Even the sand would be but glass when the fighting would finish.

It was as it should be.

The Lord Castellan smiled and sat down. His forces were marshaled, his defenses were ready, and his resolve was unshakable.

He awaited his opponent's next move.

"We need to talk," Madoka said as her party advanced cautiously through the chaotic dimension. Although He had a general idea of where they were heading, without a detailed map it was easy to make mistakes on the way. Already they had run into several dead-ends: portals sealed with mystic runes, presumably by the Eldar and presumably for good reason.

"What is on your mind, my child?" His voice rolled softly in her mind. Madoka had quite a bit of time to think about recent events ever since her "merge" with Him, and the only conclusion she had drawn was not to think about them in too much depth less she go insane.

"Why wouldn't you trust the Far Seer at first?"

"My experience and my observations led me to the conclusion that trusting an Eldar—indeed, trusting any xeno—would be most unwise. They have a tendency to backstab their allies for their own gain, but I suppose in this case my mistrust was misplaced."

"Why must you suspect the motive behind everything?"

"We must discern motivations before we judge actions. Good people can and will do bad things to achieve a noble goal, and sometimes bad people will commit good deeds because such acts further advance their agenda."

"Is that how you justified the Imperium's actions? Is that how you justified your alienation and subsequent murder and exile of your sons?"

"I justify nothing," He scowled, "and we are not bringing my sons into the discussion again. I have born the guilt of my decisions for ten millennia. You are not to lecture me further on the matter."

"I'm… I apologize," Madoka let out a sigh, "but that doesn't make my point invalid. You think that motivations justify actions, but murder is murder; it mattered not what you think you were doing, killing another person is always wrong."

"Your naïveté is… heartening, I suppose," He carefully chose his words, "but you will soon see how the real world works, and you will be discouraged. Then, you will see how my way of looking at things has merit. For now, my child, you lack experience in dealing with alien species and discerning their motivations, which would come with time and practice."

"Well, if you don't let me practice, how am I supposed to… wait, this is…?" Madoka was so absorbed into the conversation in her head that she ignored her surroundings. Only then did she notice the ruin around her.

It was the ruins of a massive city built inside the Webway, a mass grave of unknown creatures undisturbed for millennia. The walls and chambers of what had to have been buildings that would gleam in the light had long crumbled, leaving piles of material indistinguishable from the bleached bones of its occupants. The streets were paved with entire slabs of the same material in which the buildings were constructed; even those slabs had warped and cracked, some broken into pieces. The ancient mechanisms that corresponded to the circadian cycle of whatever occupants of the city still functioned, however, as the sun broke over the horizon of this ghostly plane, showering the entire city with its pale, jaundiced light.

Madoka tentatively stepped onto the main causeway that was as wide as 8-lane highways back home. The paving slab creaked so painfully that Madoka had to take her foot back and shield her ears.

"Wraithbone," He muttered. Madoka's companions formed a defensive perimeter around her, wary of any ambush that could occur even though the occupants of this city should be long dead.

"… This was an Eldar city?" Madoka was incredulous. Around her, the Wraithbone remains of the city seemed to moan and groan; some had their gleam return, and they sluggishly started restoring themselves to whatever shapes they used to be.

"The material is drinking the power that we emanate and restoring themselves. This must be the site of an incredibly ancient city; I am not aware of any massive Eldar construction inside the Webway other than Commorragh," He commented as Madoka glanced around, "so it must be a place they built before their Empire crumbled."

Carefully restraining her power, she stepped onto the causeway again. The slab let out a yelp of some sort, before its surface shifted into a beautifully patterned debossing of what seemed like nude goddesses playing in a stream; it seemed like the tiniest amount of psychic power was enough to repair it to its former glory. The next slab depicted a different scene, and the next; no two slabs were the same as far as Madoka observed.

"They… carved such intricate patterns into their paving stones," Madoka gasped as the group moved down the main causeway, "They must have a heck of a time driving on it."

"They have anti-grav technology. They cared not whether or not the road was flat, just that it was unobstructed." Madoka remembered the vehicles she saw earlier; since they had no contact with any solid ground and floated a foot above it, they would indeed not care about the debossed artwork on the causeway. She then laid a finger upon a half-broken column, and poured some power into it. Every shard of Wraithbone in the column's vicinity sprang to life with a burst of wails so loud that everyone had to shield their ears.

"This is… incredible…" What stood in front of her was a lavish building with life-like debossing decorating every inch of its outer wall. The windows were shaped with soft and plump curves; the entrance itself was shaped strangely in alien aesthetics and similarly curved. The inside of the structure was brought to life as well, utensils and furniture gluing themselves back together into their former glory. Saucers and cups rested on top of the embossed table; chairs and stools were delicately balanced, having intricate carvings on every inch of their construction. Machines that served food and drink were humming quietly, and soon they produced edible meals and drinkable liquids.

All of this was the result of Madoka injecting a miniscule fraction of her power into the building. Famished, the party sat down in the alien restaurant, and ate and drink their fill. The food was not completely pleasant to the human palate, but given their state, they could not care less about the taste.

Madoka required no food, but she ate anyway. None of the Magical Girls required any food, in fact; biological functions were no longer relevant when they completed their transformation, but they ate anyway like the humans. The Inquisitor and the Guardsmen were initially hesitant to consume what they claim to be "xeno corruption", but relented to their stomachs' growls when Madoka herself partook in the meal.

"The Eldar used to have a galactic empire like the Imperium today," He said as Madoka sat alone and quietly at the table. Elsewhere, Kyouko's gobbling was loud enough to draw complaints from Hitomi. "This must have been one of their cities."

"To achieve such technological advances, they must have been powerful," She mused as she turned to observe Homura, who stood behind her on guard: "Homura-chan, why don't you sit down as well?"

"We cannot all let down our guard, Madoka," came her reply. "Such a display of power is sure to attract enemies within this dimension. If everyone were focused on recuperating and our enemies ambush us, the result would be disastrous."

Madoka stood up and planted Homura in her seat much to the black-haired girl's shock: "It's my turn to keep watch. Eat up, Homura-chan, or you won't have the strength to protect all of us!"

"But…"

"What would you like to order, ma'am?" Playfully she stood by the table like a waitress.

"She does have a point, my child," He rumbled with a slight tinge of displeasure in His telepathic message, "and we do not have time to waste on such luxuries."

"Everyone's tired, so I thought it might be a good idea for us to take a break here and make up for lost time later. We can't exactly fight on empty stomachs and exhausted spirits," Madoka's smile grew wider as Homura's face became so flustered that it lit up in luminous crimson. With a small giggle she dashed to the food producer, retrieved a plate of what looked like a quarter of roasted poultry and delivered it to Homura. Observing that the black-haired Magical Girl literally buried her head in the food so that Madoka could not see her face, she turned her attention to the previous conversation: "So, how did their empire crumble?"

"'Just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire.'" He quoted, "They were punished with eternal fire."

"You know, there's something to be said about you quoting a book about yourself," Madoka smiled in amusement for a moment before she returned to her serious face, "so their decadence led to their fall?"

"Indeed. The cataclysmic event birthed Slaanesh the Prince of Pleasure over ten millennia ago," He muttered, "if it were not for their fall, I would have had a much harder time expanding the Imperium into the size that it is today, and humanity would, in all measures, be extinct."

"How did it all start?"

"They were a prosperous society. They had everything at their disposal. They needed not work, so they sought higher pleasures in life. Soon that pursuit turned into debauchery and hedonism. More and more heinous their deeds became, and more and more extreme their pursuit led them. And thus their empire was annihilated almost overnight, as it should be," He recalled. Madoka was disturbed by some of the mental images He showed her, images He extracted from the tomes He read before his internment.

"A utopia turned dystopia," Madoka muttered. The bright mood that she had when she teased Homura had by then completely disappeared. "… Those poor things, to have been through such misfortune and survive… We should help them."

"Why?" He was incredulous, "they would not blink to murder an entire planet of humans just to save a handful of their kind! They would direct a Tyranid fleet to a human world so that their own Craftworld would be spared!"

"But can you blame them?" She gazed out to the wastes beyond, "Can you blame them? Look at this. Look at what they have lost. For their prosperous empire to be annihilated in such short time, they must be on the edge of extinction! In order for them to survive, they had no choice but to commit these evil deeds, like how few choices you had!"

"Evil is evil. You said that. No matter how their intentions were, trading human lives for theirs is unacceptable."

"Yes, but how do we stop them from doing these things without becoming monsters ourselves? How do we stop them from making these choices without making these choices ourselves? Have you ever thought of that? They are not beyond salvation! There's still hope for them! So why shouldn't we help them?"

"… Perhaps, but my child, you are taking on a much larger mantle than what I intended," He sighed in resignation. "Considering their double-faced treachery and their pride, it would be no easy task. Much strife would follow, both in the Imperium and between the Eldar Craftworlds. I am not certain that you would be ready for that."

"The child must one day surpass the parent," She smiled with a sigh. "It is the parent's job to prepare the child for her coming responsibilities, is it not?"

"Cheeky girl you have become," both of them spontaneously chuckled a bit, and then He continued, "In any case, if you have not noticed, you are leaking power."

"Yeah, I noticed that much when I stepped on that paving slab; and yet here we are, heading back to Terra to acquire even more power," Madoka sighed as she took a seat opposite to Homura. Resting her elbows on the table, she then rested her chin on her hands and observed Homura while keeping an eye still on the entrance, "How do I contain all of it, and how can I make use of all of it?"

"You need conditioning and meditation, both of which needed time, and…"

"Time is something we sorely need right now," Madoka rolled her eyes. "I knew it. What are the possible consequences if we don't deal with this?"

"Well, everyone is apprehensive around you because of that power, and you will not be able to use that power to its full potential because it is constantly leaking out of you."

"So, in other words, I'm scaring the living daylight out of everyone and I'm kind of weak? I thought the Inquisitor and your Guardsmen were just deferent to… to my status," Madoka glanced around nervously. Homura was still dodging her eyes, and the rest of the party was far enough away from her that she knew it was the case.

"That is one way of putting the concept, yes. Their deference, compounded with the power you leak, was enough to render them completely obedient to your will." Madoka groaned silently when she heard His answer. She never wanted anyone to be completely obedient to anyone else. Certainly, there must exist a certain hierarchy amongst humans to ensure order, but without effective opposition, decisions would never be questioned. The decision-makers, therefore, would drink of and be inebriated by this power, and then they would be corrupt. Then, it was even more imperative for her to actually approach her friends and actively ask for advice.

Gazing once again at the Wraithbone wasteland outside, she asked: "Do you think… that if I created a utopia for humanity, we would suffer the same fate as the Eldar?"

There was a long silence: "If we lacked a purpose, yes."

"How can you be sure?"

"I am not, for I have yet to succeed in creating a utopia."

"… Fair enough," Madoka nodded as she spun around. Homura had already finished her meal, but she was no longer in her seat. Instead, Madoka found the black-haired girl staring at the doorway, where a strange shape stood. The rest of the party were also on alert; the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen all drew their weapons and trained them on the newcomer.

The creature was a lithe humanoid, slightly taller than Madoka herself while wearing a pair of heeled thigh-high boots. She was clearly female from the shape of her body, but she wore a hood and a mask made from what seemed to be white jade. The mask had red eye slits and ruby-colored lips, all of them curving into an eerie smile. Her colorful clothing was similar to that of a beggar on the street, yet she emitted an aura of detached coldness around her. On her back, a large staff glinted with pale metallic light as the artificial sun's rays struck it. On her hip, a small pistol rested in a well-crafted leather holster.

"Who are you?" Madoka swiftly moved to greet the newcomer, standing between her party's line of fire and her guest. That way, a fire fight would not accidentally occur and she could protect both her guest and her group.

"A soulless songstress, in search for answers," she responded, and Madoka somehow felt a stabbing pain strike her head with every word the strange woman uttered, each strong enough to make her cringe slightly.

"Madoka, she's givin' me da willies…" Kyouko warned with a slightly shaken voice. If her visitor promoted pain in Madoka, then it was sure to make Kyouko and the rest of the Magical Girls nervous. Somehow, Sayaka was nowhere close to as discomforting as the visitor when she was not transformed.

"Do you… have a name?" She asked while beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her ears buzzed a little, but she remained calm; her companions would surely try to kill this woman if they found out that she was somehow hurting her, and the last thing Madoka wanted to see was a bar brawl.

"One such as I am nameless," her speech pattern was a little strange to Madoka. It was as if the creature was reciting some poem or some play, "and you travel with one like us."

Madoka could almost see the stranger's eyes tracing a line toward Sayaka. The stabbing pain did not subside, but it did feel somewhat softer: "Can you tell us what you want?"

"The barren garden is fertile once more," she sang, "and the chosen one must follow and explore."

"The chosen?" Madoka assumed that "the barren garden" meant the wasteland around them. After all, the only thing that could possibly bring such a strange person to her would be her restoration of this restaurant.

"She is firm yet feeble, supple yet harsh; she is wise yet foolish, gentle yet brash," the masked person continued, her voice growing wispy. Her mask somehow shifted and changed expressions as she danced lithely in the doorway, stroking Madoka's face lovingly with her long, gloved fingers, "She seeks knowledge, yet she knows not how. Guidance is needed, and guide we shall."

"You're leading me somewhere?"

"Come, and we shall be away; to the shrouded world, where secrets lay," with a psychedelic whirl she danced out the door, and Madoka followed.

"Where are you going?"

"The Black Library," He answered for her with a smile. "Perhaps we can resolve the power leakage problem, after all."

Although the scenery presented to David was breathtaking, he never took his hand off of his autopistol for a single moment. The starry dome under which the party travelled felt unnatural for him because the stars were out of their usual alignment, and the pale white strip of the Milky Way appeared completely different.

Still, that was not his primary concern. A pair of Eldar Titans stood guard in front of a small ebony arch. They were taller than the buildings on Cadia, and though they did not bristle with weapons like the Mechanicus' god-machines, David knew that if they wanted they could wipe out the entire group with ease.

In front of the Titans, a line of guards stood, each dressed in brightly colored armor that seemed almost theatrical. For some reason other than knowing the overwhelming difference in firepower between the Xenos and the humans, David felt it difficult to raise even a finger against them; knowing these treacherous Xenos, he was certain that they had played some sort of mind trick on him. He threw a sideway glance at Lady Akemi. She remained steadfast behind the Empress, but she did not draw any weapons or adorn her usual combat attire; in fact, none of the Empress' companions did.

The Xeno standing on the other side of the Empress made him even queasier. The Eldar was dressed in the same attire as the guards, and it too wore a mask. If it were up to him he would have shot the Xeno repeatedly before it even lifted a finger at him, but somehow something restrained him so that he could not lift a finger against it.

David could not fathom why the Empress trusted the strangely-dressed and even stranger-mannered Xeno. The Inquisitor quivered with excitement when the Empress mentioned the Black Library to the party, but David did not care at all about the importance of the place. This entire place smelled like a trap to him, and he was not one to go down quietly.

The Empress took a step forward, and the guards yielded for her. Lady Akemi and the Empress' other companions followed, the five of them forming a staggered letter "V" with the Empress at the tip. Their footsteps clattered against the deafening silence and made David's ears ring.

The guards and the Xeno Titans yielded to the Empress and her Magical Girls. They bowed reverently as the five of them passed their defensive lines and approached the small archway that marked the entrance to said Black Library. The Inquisitor attempted to follow, but the strangely-dressed Xeno that accompanied them since their rest at the ruined city barred him with one arm.

"Allow me entry, Xeno, or you are going to wish you had," the Inquisitor snarled a threat, but it only drew a long mocking cackle from her.

"Worthy of entry you are not, and prove your worth you cannot," the creature sang, and even David could feel blinding, splitting heat forcing its way into his head with her every word. The Harlequin Solitaire intentionally spiked her power: her sentence sent the Inquisitor tumbling onto the ground. David wanted to draw his autopistol and shoot the creature to stop the Inquisitor's suffering, but his muscles failed to comply. There was a psychic compulsion against raising his arm against her, he was sure; one of the Xenos' foul tricks, most likely.

"We are going to be okay," the Empress' voice rang in their minds. David could see that, in the distance, she turned around to spare a glance at them. "Please be patient for a while. We'll be back soon."

With that, the Empress and her party disappeared into the archway, leaving the Inquisitor, David and his comrades outside. The Xeno that caused the Inquisitor pain had already disappeared out of view, and the line of guards had reformed, barring them entry into this mysterious Black Library.

"My Lord," David bent down to examine Kane, "are you all right?"

"I'll… I'll be fine. Damn these Xenos," the Inquisitor grunted, his mechanical exoskeleton groaning as he sat up. "A fount of knowledge so close, and yet it remains out of my reach!"

"My Lord, pardon me for my ignorance, but what is the importance of the Black Library?"

"It is the ultimate repository of knowledge against the Great Enemy," the Inquisitor grumbled, "it is so close to me, and yet it is so far away. Damn these Xenos!"

"My Lord, I am not comfortable with the… casual attitude taken to approach these Xenos. For all we know, they are always prepared to stab us in the back, and given that we're unarmed…" David glanced at his trusted autopistol in his hand. Even though a slug from it can kill a man, in the face of the threats against which he was accustomed to fight it may as well be useless.

"I understand, Guardsman," the Inquisitor grunted as David's comrades sat around him, "and neither do I. But we are weak, and we are trekking through their territory. We also have common goals and interests; therefore, I do not see the harm in this temporary alliance of convenience."

"We have the Empress on our side! Why don't we just annihilate them?" David turned around. Private Simon Schuster was one of the more fanatical people amongst the survivors. Of course, the most fanatical of the soldiers had already given their lives for the Empress, but comparatively Simon was more zealous in his belief of human superiority.

"It is the Empress' decision not to annihilate the Xenos where they stood," the Inquisitor snapped. "And it is not your place to question her, Guardsman. One more word on this matter, and I shall have no choice but to execute you for your heresy."

Simon grumbled an acknowledgement. There was a certain finality in the Inquisitor's words, and David decided to mute himself lest his concerns earn an undeserved bullet between the brows: "But, my Lord, to travel to the Golden Throne itself through this strange dimension, do you not think that it would be folly with our current forces?"

"Like Simon has said, 'we have the Empress on our side,'" the Inquisitor let out a seldom-seen smile and twisted the cap off of his water canteen. "Trust in the Empress, Guardsmen, and she shall deliver us from evil."

"Yes, my Lord," David muttered and slid his blood-stained Primer out of his pocket. He had no lasgun to maintain, but perhaps by reviewing that little book he could calm his nerves a little.

Madoka was amazed: "This is…?"

It seemed that she had stepped back into her courtyard once she entered the portal. But this could not be; her house—along with the planet itself—had already been destroyed!

"A form of illusion. It seems that whoever is in control of the place wishes to test us," He rumbled, and though Madoka concurred, the pleasant feeling of the spring wind ruffling her dress and her hair was undeniable.

"Welcome home, Madoka."

Her eyes widened at the person greeting her at the door of her house. Her mother wore a set of soft pajamas and fluffy slippers instead of her regular business suit and heels; her smile could not help but send warmth rippling into Madoka's heart.

"Mom…" She muttered, clutching her hands in front of her bosom, "I'm home, Mom."

"Be careful, my child. Remember, your mother is en route to an Eldar Craftworld," He warned as Madoka eagerly strode toward her mother. "Neither your mother nor this scenery is real."

The statement was enough to make Madoka stop in her tracks. She was but an arm's reach from Junko when she stopped and remembered: "… Who are you?"

Junko—or, whatever creature that took the form of Madoka's mother—cracked a sly smile and sidestepped in invitation: "Enter, and let us talk."

Madoka glanced through the entrance; the inside of the house was too dark for her to identify any objects. She quietly glanced back at Junko, but she could not read her at all.

"This could be a trap, my child," He cautioned.

"Even if it is a trap, do you see any other options?"

"We could subdue whatever creature this is and ask it questions."

"I see you're in a talking mood," she mocked. Madoka was not aware that an ethereal soul could squirm, and though it was more than a little petty, the thought of Him squirming at her word was delightful. "As long as they're in a talking mood too, can we lay off the torture and domination a little?"

"Very well. But be on your guard; we do not know what to expect in there," He resigned, and Madoka took a step into the house. The interior, it turned out, was identical with what she remembered. Junko closed the door and swiftly overtook Madoka as she strode briskly toward the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.

"Care to share a drink?" Junko gestured as she gingerly placed the bottle and two lowball glasses on the dinner table.

"I'm… still under age, but you should know that," Madoka responded meekly. Junko let out a chuckle and scooped a bucket of ice from the ice maker, before sitting down opposite to Madoka and pouring herself a glass of whiskey over some ice.

"Considering the responsibilities you have shouldered, a drink should be the least of your concerns, Kaname Madoka," the creature taking Junko's shape chuckled and took a sip.

"Why did you take the shape of my mother?" Madoka slipped out of the seat and walked to the fridge, before pulling out a carton of orange juice. "I know this is the Black Library. Why did you choose to project this illusion of my house?"

"I thought a familiar setting and a familiar face would help you relax," the creature maintained her smile and observed Madoka pour herself a glass of orange juice. "You have introduced shattering changes to the universe, Kaname Madoka."

"You know, it doesn't sound as funny from my end." Both of them took a sip from their drinks, and Madoka leaned forward. "What's your goal here?"

"You have a perilous road ahead of you, Kaname Madoka," the creature chuckled and took another sip, "And though your heart is noble, I am afraid that with your current mindset you will only bring more tragedy to your people."

"Tragedy? What do you mean?"

"Sentient beings define themselves through their struggles, Kaname Madoka," she paused and letting her words sink into Madoka's understanding for a little before continuing, "without struggles, life becomes a torturous ordeal."

"That doesn't make sense," Madoka blurted. She focused her eyes on Junko's face, but Junko simply maintained the smile and drained her glass of whiskey. "Struggles bring suffering, and no one deserves to suffer."

"That is a flawed line of reasoning, Kaname Madoka," Junko twisted the cap off of the whiskey bottle and casually tossed the cap aside. After she poured herself a new glass, she then forcibly reached over the table and filled Madoka's half-glass of orange juice with alcohol.

"Hey! I told you I am under age!"

"Alcohol would do you some good, Kaname Madoka. It helps you relax, and you have plenty of trials ahead of you," Junko set the bottle down and rested her elbows on the table. Her eyes never left Madoka's, and Madoka felt her very soul being peeled open by those violet eyes of hers, "Your Imperium is under siege from all sides. The threat of Chaos and the Tyranids are just two of them."

"… There are more?" Madoka's jaw almost fell onto the table.

"Indeed, Kaname Madoka; these two are among the most significant threats, but these other ones are no less intimidating," Junko gestured and a small stack of picture frames appeared on the table out of nowhere, much to Madoka's surprise.

"For example, the Necrons," she pulled a frame from the stack and slid it across the smooth glass surface of the table to Madoka. "They sleep on countless planets they call 'Tomb Worlds'. Their only goal is to exterminate all life."

Madoka took up the picture frame and saw the image inside it move. Somehow, mere contact with the frame was also enough to project a psychic image into her head, complete with all senses for a truly immersive experience. A brief thought in her head wished that movies were this real, but she banished that thought as quickly as it appeared, for the subject matter at hand was too gruesome.

Rows upon rows of black skeletal robots marched across a large plain. They held tubes with cackling green energy, menacing enough to strike chills into Madoka's spine. Behind them, large pyramidal vehicles dotted the landscape; they had a single large crystal at their apices, from which the same energy as those in the tubes arced. The entire legion of robots with the pyramids moved ponderously slowly, but the slow speed only served to frighten Madoka even more.

She glanced to the other side of the battlefield and found a force of humans in trenches. They have dug in deep, and they were poised to hold the line against the unending tide of robotic minions. Artillery thundered and landed within the ranks of robots, and with each shell that landed some robots fell. Some of these reassembled themselves with crackles of energy, while others were whisked away in a flash of emerald light.

But the advance of the robots did not stop. No, they did not even slow when the first line of Guardsmen opened fire against them. Instead, the march of these machines became louder and louder until the defenders were within range of the tubes in their hands.

The following scene was too graphic for Madoka to stomach. The robots unleashed a storm of green lightning. Guardsmen who were touched by a bolt of energy were literally flayed alive: their skin peeled off of their flesh and they writhed in agony. The robots continued to fire at the defenders; tank armor were stripped off layer by layer, and not even fortifications stopped their advance. More horrible were the pyramids' attacks. With a loud boom, a bolt of energy arced from the crystal at the top of a pyramid and struck a bunker in a brilliant flash of emerald. When the chaotic whirlwind subsided, all that remained of the bunker was a blackened crater and… and bones.

Madoka quickly released the grip on the picture frame and panted. The scene was too bloody, too vivid for her to stand. It called up unpleasant memories for her, as well; though the bloodshed during the evacuation was not this bad, she had seen some pretty disturbing sights and they were all coming back to her: "These… are the Necrons?"

"Indeed, and they're but one threat," Junko smiled and sipped her drink, "Would you like some whiskey?"

That glass of spiked orange juice suddenly seemed a lot more appealing.

Kyouko found herself sitting on top of the altar inside the ruined church with which she was intimately familiar. It was there that her father hanged himself. It was there that he murdered her mother and sister.

She spat. The church—like the planet on which it resided—should have already been destroyed. There was little doubt in her mind that this was an illusion, a trick on her mind. Perhaps whoever resided in the Black Library intended to test her resolve, but what would be the purpose of that?

Kyouko quietly traced the outline of the tattered altar. The wood felt warm to the touch, yet the breeze howling through the church sent shudders throughout her body. Leaves and loose cobwebs rode the wind. If it were an illusion, it was a well-crafted one, Kyouko thought.

Pages from decayed holy books littered the ground. Kyouko disdainfully regarded these loose sheets as they too were carried up into the air by the breeze, twisting into a tiny twister of jaundiced paper. To her, they contained nothing but poison, words that intoxicated the gullible masses and weakened their resolve.

She used to believe in them, Kyouko sighed. These words that taught her altruism and to sacrifice herself for her family and her love were once held sacred in her heart. She truly thought she was doing the right thing, but she suffered because of them. Sayaka, too, suffered because of them. If she would just live life for herself and not for that damned boy…

"And yet you cling to her as if she were your sole purpose in life," chimed a voice. It snapped Kyouko out of her thoughts; she directed her eyes toward the source of the voice. A frail figure stood at the entrance to the tattered chapel, and she slowly approached the altar.

"Sayaka…" Kyouko breathed upon seeing Sayaka dressed in her school uniform, but she immediately realized that something was amiss. Those azure eyes of hers sparkled with light, the look in them vivid and sharp; ever since she woke up, Sayaka's eyes had been dead like a zombie.

"You claim to live for yourself, and yet you stick with the group of people you met," Sayaka said, quietly walking up the aisle leading to the altar. "None of them lived for themselves; yet you tolerate them and you cooperate with them. Why is that, Sakura Kyouko?"

Kyouko searched for words to refute the claim, but she found none because the statement was true. None of them was selfish; all of them sacrificed themselves for someone else. Hitomi became a Magical Girl for Sayaka. Homura lived and breathed on Madoka's whim. Madoka was determined to save everyone with her power. And Sayaka…

Kyouko sighed: "They ain't bad company."

"You are fighting for them, however; putting your life on the line is hardly worth their companionship, one should think," Sayaka giggled as she stood inches from Kyouko, their faces close enough that Kyouko could feel her breaths. Panicking, Kyouko staggered backwards and almost fell off of the altar. With a clumsy flip, she barely maintained her balance and remained at arm's length from Sayaka.

"That… that ain't none of yer business!" Kyouko scowled and looked for something to eat in vain. Her stomach growled again as her face practically glowed with heat: "Who are ya, anyway? Why da hell didja take her form? And why didja put me in dis damned church of all places?"

"I thought a familiar setting and a familiar face would help you relax," Sayaka giggled once again at Kyouko's embarrassment. "This church holds some symbolic significance for you, does it not, Sakura Kyouko?"

"I ain't gonna have nothin' to do with dis damned place no more," Kyouko protested.

"In other words, you are running away." Sayaka's smile never faded from her. Her words, however, stabbed straight into Kyouko's heart. "You brought Miki Sayaka here and you told her of your history. You thought that your story would frighten her into conforming to your way of thinking, your way of life. You thought that she would run away from her ideals like you have."

"Shaddap!" Kyouko howled, transforming into her Magical Girl outfit, "Whatcha know 'bout me, huh!? HUH!?"

"I know all, Sakura Kyouko." Sayaka did not blink even when Kyouko thrust her spear at Sayaka's eyes. "I know how you naively thought your sob story would scare her away from her train of thought. I know how you foolishly expected Sayaka to go along with your script. And though events did not at all turn out the way you expected, though her very status brings pain and grief to your heart, you still remained by her side.

"Because you love her, Sakura Kyouko."

Kyouko's hands shivered as her breathing quickened. She once again searched for words to refute her statement, but it seemed that to whatever creature that took the shape of Sayaka she was as transparent as plastic cling wrap and as hollow as an inflated balloon: "I… I'm not! Stop talking this nonsense!"

"You are attracted to her because she is what you are not," Sayaka continued while maintaining a smile, her eyes seemingly staring deep into Kyouko's soul. "She is not so easily discouraged by your story; in fact, you know that she would not be deterred by anything. The fire of her selflessness burned so brightly that it attracted you like a moth at night. You did not expect her sacrifice to end badly, but when it did, you cannot help but feel responsible since you tried but failed to divert her from this course. Am I wrong, Sakura Kyouko?"

No, Kyouko swallowed. Whatever this creature was, it was exactly right, and this revelation made her uneasy. Never mind Kyouko's disposition toward Sayaka; if this creature could read her mind so easily, then she would constitute no threat to it: "… Who are you?"

"Relax, Sakura Kyouko," the creature chuckled and Kyouko shuddered. Even its giggles were like Sayaka's: to Kyouko, they sounded like the crystal chimes of silver bells. "I mean no harm to either you or your companions."

"Why are you doing this to us?"

"Before you embark on the greatest journey in the galaxy, you must know yourself, Sakura Kyouko," the creature maintained her knowing smile, "your significance in the cosmic order is preordained, as are your companions'. Know your motivations behind your actions. Resolve your concerns regarding your companions. Your future depends on your companions, and theirs on you."

Kyouko did not know how to respond. The chair on which she sat creaked painfully as she slumped, her breaths light and shallow.

"… I helped turn her into that monster," she finally breathed without knowing exactly why she said what she said. The creature sat upon the decayed altar and listened. "I… I guess I was trying to scare her away from her fate, but what choice did I have? She would never have listened to reason; not from me, anyway. I tried to appeal to her emotions so that she could understand where I'm coming from, but that didn't work. And now, she can't feel anything because of my failure."

"You did what you have to do, and you did all you can," it said with a small comforting smile, "I suppose that you should be happy now that Miki Sayaka cannot feel any emotions at all; at the very least, she does not hate you."

But Kyouko was on the verge of tears: "That's the problem, isn't it? I… I want to be friends with her. I want to see her smile. I want her to… I want her to like me. What's the point of saving her if she's reduced to a damned husk!?"

"Even the coldest ice has to melt one day." That comforting smile remained on its face as it slipped off the altar. With a small step, the creature with Sayaka's shape approached Kyouko and stroked her flaming red hair, "though she has no affection to give, the next best thing may be to fight by her side, and never to lose her."

"What good does it do?" Kyouko sniffled, her spear lying uselessly on the floor, "She'll never like me. She'll never hate me. I'd rather she hate me than this… this cold indifference!"

"Love requires no reciprocation, Sakura Kyouko," it gently reminded her, its hand petting Kyouko's head, "if you truly love her, you will stand by her till the end, will you not?"

Kyouko nodded, but she hesitated a little: "… but… but this pain… will it ever go away?"

"Unfortunately, it will not," it said with a sad smile. "It is the price of your bond, Sakura Kyouko. It reminds you of past lessons learned, and it reminds you just how precious this bond between you two is."

"Will she ever understand what I'm doing and why I'm doing it?"

"That, Sakura Kyouko, depends on your efforts." It planted a light, playful kiss on Kyouko's forehead. The mere act of contact startled the redhead; she tried to back away, but the leg of the decaying chair gave and threw her onto her bum.

"What the hell did you do that for!?" Kyouko protested, her face glowing beet red.

"Just to tease you, of course," it giggled. "Perhaps one day, she herself will do this to you."

Kyouko really, really wanted to punch the alien creature in the face.

The smell of the spiked orange juice made Madoka decide that it was not exactly the brightest of ideas to inebriate herself while she was engaged in a serious conversation with an alien who was taking on the appearance of her mother. Shaking her head, she slipped off of her seat and found a new glass in the cabinet. Pouring herself another glass of orange juice, she hastily drained half of it before returning to her seat.

"Aw," Junko seemingly pouted, but that smile did not fade, "I was hoping you would drink a little and relax."

"I can't relax when someone's taking the shape of my mother, you know," Madoka responded with a gulp of juice, "especially when I have no idea what you want and what you're trying to do."

"Does this make you feel uncomfortable?" The creature's smile turned into a mock, "Perhaps you should get used to it; this attachment to shapes and appearances will one day kill you."

"Maybe, but friends don't make friends nervous," Madoka countered, "If you really want to be my friend, would you mind changing into another shape?"

"Very well," "Junko" scoffed, and in front of Madoka's very eyes her figure started to twist. The short, crisp violet hair started to lengthen into black, braided tails. Her face shifted to a younger visage, with black eyes and a conjured pair of spectacles with a red frame. Her clothes also morphed from pajamas into Madoka's school uniform. Much to Madoka's shock, the creature changed her shape into who seemed like Homura, but she never remembered Homura with twin braided tails that dropped to her waist.

"Of course you are not familiar with this shape," it said with a leer, "for this shape of Akemi Homura is not the one that dealt with you in your time."

"… You find this amusing, don't you," Madoka snapped at the creature, but her spiteful words did not succeed in wiping the smile off of its face.

"You did ask me to switch to another shape," the creature responded, "perhaps this one is not to your liking?"

"Change into a shape that isn't one of my friends or family," Madoka demanded, before draining her glass of orange juice in protest. The creature shrugged and once again its figure started to twist. This time, it lost the shape of a humanoid, and instead switched to a quadruped form with two enlarged eyes, a fluffy tail, and two glassy red eyes, all covered with snow white fur. All of this, though, was punctuated with an eternally innocent smile on its face.

"How do you like this, then? I may offer you the opportunity to make a contract and become—" The creature's speech was interrupted when Madoka threw the empty glass at its head. Deftly dodging the glass, which shattered on the tiled floor behind it, the creature made a loud "tut" with its mouth: "There is no need to get violent, my good friend."

"Shut it," Madoka quickly snapped with a hint of anger in her voice, "That creature caused all of this suffering. It's nothing but pure evil, and just looking at it makes me feel sick."

"You did ask me to change into a shape that isn't one of your friends or family," the creature shrugged, standing on its hind legs and extending its fore legs in a surprisingly human expression, "I merely followed your instructions."

"You know what I meant; stop twisting my words," Madoka spat, her disdain thick in the air.

"Very well," the creature sighed with a small chuckle, "humans do get attached to appearances."

"It's something that defines us as humans," Madoka responded as the creature twisted its appearance again into a fairly unremarkable image of a girl with long blonde hair and amethyst eyes, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. In a gesture much unfitting for her age, the girl drained the last dregs of whiskey in her glass before pouring herself another, adding ice cubes before she did so.

"Many things define you as humans," the girl continued, seeing that Madoka was finally satisfied with her image, "but, contrary to your belief, you are no longer a human; neither are your companions whose entry into the Black Library I have allowed. All of you have transcended the limitations of human physiology and became something more, and of course this change was not without cost."

"A terrible cost, at that," Madoka muttered. "I'd rather think that even though our bodies and our abilities are beyond human capabilities, the core of our identities remain human."

"You certainly may hope that it is the case, but for you, Kaname Madoka, the very concept of humanity is a detriment to the responsibilities that you must shoulder in the millennia ahead," the girl smiled. Her face was flushed glowing red, and her hand wobbled a bit as she held the glass by its lips with all but her index finger. "For example, the Necrons is a threat that you and your Imperium must deal with. The Eldar and the Orks defended the universe against the Necron threat under the watch of the Old Ones millennia ago, and even then they did not completely defeat it. Now, the Eldar is but a shadow of their formal glory, and your Imperium is fighting the Orks, the Great Enemy, the Tyranids, the Tau, and the Eldar in their different flavors across many, many fronts in addition to the Necron."

Madoka shuddered. If the Necrons were as deadly and unrelenting as the creature advertised, she could not fathom how many lives would be lost in one battle against them. Chaos and the Tyranids were deadly enough: chaos alone claimed her planet and the billions of people residing on it despite her efforts to save them all. But to fight six hostile races all at once, the Imperium had to be bleeding millions of lives every single day.

"… I'll defeat them all," Madoka muttered, her hands balling into fists, "I'll defeat them all, and bring about peace to the Imperium and to everyone in the galaxy."

The girl chuckled with a drunken flair as she sipped more alcohol: "That is all well and good, but you realize that you've just resolved to commit genocide against not just one, but five intelligent alien species."

Madoka froze for a moment, and the girl continued with her drunken chuckle: "While certainly a very human thing to do, you also simply condemned every single creature in the galaxy that did not branch from humanity to death."

"Can't we be friends with them? Defeating doesn't necessarily mean genocide, you know," Madoka protested, finally realizing the "mistake" the girl made in interpreting her words, "We could defeat them and then—"

"Make them into your client races? Make them slaves to humanity's superiority?" The girl cackled. "There is such a thing as a fate worse than death, Kaname Madoka."

"Stop twisting my words! You know what I meant! I want peace and friendship! Not conflicts!" Madoka growled in frustration.

"Unfortunately, as you have observed, conflict will always exist," the girl swished her half glass of whiskey and stared into Madoka's eyes, "between friends, between strangers, between enemies, conflict will always exist no matter how well-intentioned you are, and not all of them can be resolved through dialogue. War is, after all, a method of diplomacy." It let out an amused chuckle. "A more bloody, more savage method, but a method of diplomacy, nonetheless. Besides, it makes for great drama."

"I disagree," Madoka answered firmly, "If we can just understand each other, if we can just talk about it, there's nothing we can't resolve."

"That's the flaw of your argument," the girl immediately answered. "You think that communication and understanding is the key to resolve all conflicts. Why do you think it is, then, that even with diplomats and politicians working together, humans still could not avoid wars? On your planet, world peace is only maintained under the threat of mutual annihilation, and even then you have local wars halfway around the globe. Why do you think that is?"

"That's… because…" Madoka stuttered for a moment. The creature brought up a good point, against which she could not argue. She learned in her history class that her world experienced, and only through the use of not one but two devastatingly powerful weapons did it all came to an end. And even then, conflicts did not cease around the globe. People from less-privileged countries rose up against their oppressors, and much blood was shed in the process. Meanwhile, the superpowers sat there and watched, even supplying tools of murder for the factions, all in the name of "justice", "freedom", "liberty" and "democracy".

The creature's smile grew triumphant. Madoka disliked it, but she knew she had to think of something to counter its arguments in order to wipe the smile off of its face. What was worse, He maintained His silence throughout this whole exchange. In fact, He had not spoken since she engaged in conversation with the alien creature.

"Now, then, I'll let you think about that point for a bit," its smile continued to irritate Madoka, but she shifted her attention to another picture frame that it slid to Madoka across the table, "In the meantime, would you enjoy this small reprieve?"

Madoka glared at the creature: "Is this what you call a reprieve? That you want to continue torturing me with those… images?"

"Kaname Madoka, if you consider this 'torture', then you would be appalled at the methods of some of your agents," it chuckled heartily, "but no, this is nowhere close to as grisly as the frame before. I promise."

"I find my capacity to trust you diminishing by the minute," Madoka mumbled.

"Of course, and that is as it should be," the creature responded by crossing its fingers and resting its elbows on the table before resting its chin on top of its mesh of fingers, "a ruler of a nation should never trust an outsider, be they her friends or her enemies, but she should come to her own conclusions as to the trustworthiness of her intelligence sources. This is a piece of information that I am offering to you; its veracity—and by extension, my trustworthiness—is up to you to decide."

Madoka reached out to the picture frame and touched it hesitantly. Immediately she was whisked to a world where the sun was obscured by thick, sooty clouds. Strangely-shaped planes zipped under the clouds, trailed by neon-blue thrusters. Her view panned to the narrow streets sandwiched between ornate gothic structures, and she found blue-skinned creatures with no visible nose directing lines upon lines of men and women being marched to somewhere.

"You will be given food and water when you arrive at the mine," an alien said in a raspy, harsh male voice. It was obvious that Low Gothic was not his native tongue, as there were a few syllables he could not pronounce correctly. Madoka assumed that he was the foreman of a mine, and these humans were being ushered there as laborers. She shifted her attention to the humans again. They were not bound or restrained in any way, but she could smell their fear and apprehension.

"Where are we being taken?" A jaundiced woman asked. Madoka could see her trembling a little, her filth-smudged face twisted into a worried frown. These people had no idea what fate awaited them; the atrocities about which she read in the history books did mention some things like the scene being played out in front of her at the moment.

"To the mine outside the Hive. You will be given food and water when you arrive. In exchange, you will work for the Greater Good," the foreman repeated as the lines were escorted on foot by soldiers dressed in brightly-colored armor and holding alien weapons emitting faint blue light. They wore peculiar-shaped helmets with a single piece of optics sitting in the middle; the cyclopean "eye" glowed ominous red as it surveyed the soldier's surroundings.

The aliens and the humans seemed to ignore Madoka: it was an illusion after all, she reminded herself. She followed the line voluntarily, but the lines of "laborers" had no beginning and no end; it was as if the residents of the city were being systematically ushered to different designated spots on the planet. Zipping along a line of people, she soon found one of the destinations. It was an open mine outside of the city, and the humans were used to mine marble.

Marble! These people needed food, water, adequate clothing, and shelter, and they were used to mine a luxurious construction material! That marble was obviously not meant for building shelter for these people, Madoka seethed. Indeed, what she observed as "shelter" was eerily close to the concentration camps about which she had read in the history books. Men, women and children were cramped together in hastily and shoddily constructed sheds of grey-blue metal. There were no beds available to them: they slept on the floor, and some children slept on top of their parents because there were not enough space. The sanitation equipment was barely adequate, and these people were dressed in dirty rags. The foremen seemed to only care about preventing a large-scale plague from breaking out and gave no thought about anything else.

Compared to their living conditions, food and water was plentiful. They were offered bread, water and some strange alien fruits that she did not recognize. The people were mostly apprehensive of the alien fruits, but they accepted the bread and water without complaint. At least they were treated humanely on one front; Madoka sighed in relief, but immediately she reminded herself that these people were used as slave labor for someone in the society that needed marble to construct their residence. Supplying enough food and water only served to make these people work more effectively.

There were posters lined here and there on the walls and fences, Madoka observed. They were mostly propaganda pieces written in Low Gothic that advocates a philosophy they call "the Greater Good", saying that the purpose for these ragged people was to work for the collective benefit of "the Tau Empire", whatever that benefit was. Madoka interpreted "the Greater Good" as benefitting the apex of this society, somewhat like the party leaders of a Communist Party.

An anguished cry caught her attention among the sheds, and Madoka immediately shifted her attention to the source of the noise. A little girl who was no older than Tatsuya was in the arms of an armored soldier. The soldier carried no weapons, but his friends carried them. The girl was flailing and wailing, trying to reach her mother who kneeled only an arm's reach away and sobbed helplessly.

The shrill screams of the little girl cut into Madoka's heart. Tatsuya cried a lot, too, as it was not uncommon for children his age to cry and demand things. Her wails, though, were different. To Madoka, it felt like her world was being taken apart and demolished at its foundations. Her world was crumbling down, and Madoka could do little to help.

Over the child's howls, Madoka could hear a conversation going on between a robed alien and the child's father, who was pleading for the child to remain. The alien seemed female, though her voice was still raspy and her Low Gothic harsh. The child was being taken away to a certain place where she would receive education and training to better serve the Greater Good, the female said, but Madoka could not stand this argument. Children her age should be playing in a kindergarten; they should be showered with love from parents, relatives, and friends. They should not be taken away from their parents!

"Stop this," Madoka reached out to the soldiers and ordered, "stop it! You can't take her away like this!"

And she suddenly returned to the dinner table.

As the wave of energy washed off of her skin like a cool film of water, Hitomi found herself backstage at a concert hall. She was wearing a beautiful water-green gown made of the finest silk she had ever seen, the cool fabric caressing every inch of her skin like a gentle breeze.

Her lipstick was too thick and heavy even though it was only a thin layer of red gloss. She found her hands sweating profusely while her entire body shuddered. The dimly-lit backstage was so cold that the hairs on her exposed arms stood up. She remembered this feeling well; it was like the time she went on stage in front of more than a hundred people for her piano recital, only that her dress was nowhere close to as lavish and nice as the one she was wearing at the moment.

She took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her chest. Through the skin, she could feel her heart pounding like a drum; the thumping organ even reached her skull, sending deep, reverberating thuds throughout her cranium. At this rate, she would not need a mental note to keep time, Hitomi smiled wryly.

"Are you ready?" A familiar voice asked and Hitomi turned around. Kamijou Kyousuke stood there, holding his violin by its neck. He was dressed in a sharp, black tuxedo with a snow-white shirt and a black bowtie, like a professional musician, though it was only his debut recital after his recovery.

"Yes," Hitomi could not help but blush a little at his gentle smile, but her mind paused a little. How did she know that it was his debut recital? It never happened. Kamijou Kyousuke was dead, she remembered. Was this a dream? It had to have been a dream, Hitomi decided, for only in dreams could life be so… happy.

"They are waiting for us," he whispered, and though both of his hands were occupied Hitomi had an urge to hold onto him. With a knowing smile, he held his bow and violin together with his right hand, and extended his right hand toward Hitomi in invitation.

"Yes," answered Hitomi meekly, her face blushing hotter than the sun. This was a dream, so it was okay, she told herself as she extended her arms and took his hand. This was a dream, a dream from which she never wanted to wake. Kyousuke smiled at her, and she felt the warmth of his hand in hers. His hand was equally moist and slippery, but somehow the warmth overrode all fear in her mind as she took a step with him and walked on stage to thunderous applause from the audience. The stage light blinded her, but from the noise level she assumed that she had a full hall of people, eager for Kyousuke's recovery debut.

Both of them bowed, and Kyousuke motioned a kiss on her cheeks. Hitomi jumped a little at the peck, but she quickly smiled and regained her composure. Walking to the grand piano on stage, she almost tripped over herself in excitement. The music had already been arranged on the piano, but she did not need it; her memory had served her well during these recitals, and the countless days of practice had practically drilled the music into her head.

Of course there had not been countless days of practice, Hitomi smiled wryly; it was a dream, after all, and it bore no actual relevance to reality. She would not complain, however, if this was reality and all the death and destruction she had witnessed were a bad dream instead. Gently she laid her hands onto the keyboard. The cool touch of ebony and ivory keys made her shiver with delight. There was no need for Kyousuke to glance at her to signal his start; the beginning of the music consisted of eighteen measures of violin solo, she remembered.

The bow pranced in Kyousuke's hand as he started, and Hitomi soon joined him in song. Language was inadequate to express themselves; only through the hums and roars of their instruments could they truly embrace each other and show themselves to the world. The music—the Kreutzer Concerto—was difficult even for a maestro, but Kyousuke intentionally picked this piece as the only item for this recital.

The choice was for good reason, Hitomi thought as Kyousuke's violin roared in fury. Her piano followed, notes flowing out of it like a tidal wave of anguish. It was pure rage from both Kyousuke and Hitomi: rage at the world's unfairness, at fate's fickleness, and at life's bitterness. Hitomi had no time to gauge the audience's reactions, for her part on the piano was as difficult as Kyousuke's part on the violin. She could feel them gasping, sighing, grunting at the ebb and flow of their heart's feelings, and she smiled.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she felt Kyousuke's anger crash out of his violin. There was no need to look at him, even though they were but a foot apart from each other. Sweat quietly rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her lap as the music waxed and waned. The sheer amount of emotions contained in Kyousuke's performance weighed heavily on her heart, and the only way for her to relieve this stress was through her music, through singing with him together using her piano.

A brief pause offered her and her audience a little reprieve, as she heard herself and them sighing audibly in the silent recital hall. She rubbed her hands a little; they trembled and shook from the vigorous exercise through which she pushed them earlier. The first movement was his opportunity to transmit his thoughts and emotions on the fate that befell him. The second movement was her chance to bring her thoughts into the equation.

Her piano sang. There was no lyrics, but the piano—under her direction—had a voice of its own. His violin soon joined in a melodic hum to the frolicking of her fingers. Kyousuke's condition was tragic, to be certain, and he had the right to be angry about it. But Hitomi was equally certain that anger was not the correct attitude to deal with his situation, for rage alone would not make any difference in his life.

She was angry at times, too, Hitomi recalled. She was angry at Sayaka and Madoka for hiding the world of the Magical Girls from her. She was angry at the universe for imposing such a dismal fate on Magical Girls. She was angry at Sayaka for making the foolish sacrifice to save Kyousuke. She was angry at Kyousuke for attempting to rape her. She was angry at herself for letting Sayaka become who she was. And ultimately, she was angry at Kane for not accepting her.

But he did accept her, however reluctantly, and her indignation had nothing to do with it. Furthermore, her rage led her into becoming a Magical Girl in the first place. If it were not for Madoka's ascension, Hitomi would have succumbed to the daemon in time and lose her soul to whatever eldritch abomination that waited for her in the shadows.

With her thoughts, the notes ebbed into a soft whisper, and Kyousuke followed. It was his sonata recital, but he was going along with her thoughts like the attentive listener he was. Exasperation was not the answer. Kane's acceptance of her was not because of her anger but because of practical reasons. Her power was not fueled by hate, but hope: hope that the next day was going to be better, hope that life would improve, hope that one day, maybe one day, Sayaka would return to her former, cheerful self.

Her song glowed into a free-flowing conversation between her piano and Kyousuke's violin. Their minds were intermingling through not language but notes, and the audience was enjoying the immense privilege of listening in on this coalescence of souls. While she immersed herself in quiet contemplation, he was playful; his notes danced around hers, and it made her crack a small smile. The movements of her hands, in turn, became more ginger and deliberate as she unraveled her knitted fabric of thought and chased after strands of his choosing.

The music slowed, and Kyousuke flowed into contemplative meditation. Through the slight vibrato of his strings and the long, drawn-out notes, Hitomi could sense his regret. The nights and days he spent hating himself and lamenting fate were time he wasted. If he had realized Hitomi's point earlier, if he had just made steps to pull himself back together…

Hitomi's smile grew wider as she caressed the piano as she would caress Kyousuke. It was all right; everyone made mistakes. Sayaka made mistakes. Mami made mistakes. Kyouko made mistakes. Even Madoka and Kane made mistakes. It was only natural, she reassured him; it was only natural and it was all right.

It was not too late to change, both for him, and for her; it was not too late to look to the future, to use their own hands to build a better future. Hitomi's music flowed into a brighter section as her thoughts turned. But Kyousuke required some more convincing; he asked with long, shifting notes, and she answered with short, ginger sequences. The lamentation and the reluctance did not last long, however; soon Kyousuke moved in agreement with her as she led, ending the movement with a consensus. It was time, both of them agreed, that they should leave the past behind them and look to the future, where hope and joy lay.

After a small reprieve for Hitomi's hands and mind, the third movement opened with a loud, abrupt chord, with which Hitomi opened the golden, gilded gate of paradise. Birds, beasts and bees danced with her rapid, ginger string of notes in the Garden of Eden; and Kyousuke was there with her, dancing to her melody. He once again painted a picture, but this time she was also holding a brush.

In their dance, both of them led, and both of them followed. Repetition and variation of the theme truly brought out the back and forth between their steps. In the Garden of Eden, they danced, with Hitomi dressed like a princess and Kyousuke her prince on white horse. The surrounding scenery was important no longer, for her passion melded with his as they traded leadership through this vigorous prance, and their heart melted into each other as they danced.

He grew quiet for a moment. The music was soft, gentle, and… he was thankful, thankful to her that she brought him out of the darkness of depression and into the light of liveliness. She returned his gratitude with hers; if not for his tirade at the beginning, she would not have reflected on her actions and reached her conclusions.

And the ending was explosive. The prince and the princess declared their love of each other with a kiss, and the world cheered. The sonata came to an end, and Hitomi felt infinitely better than she did before she fell asleep.

But then, there was only a single person applauding. Hitomi stood up, and the stage light happened to turn off at the moment. All but two spotlights were on: one shone on Hitomi in her water-green dress, and another shown on a blue-haired girl dressed in an azure silk dress standing in the dead center of the concert hall.

Sayaka was the sole applauder, and she was smiling. Hitomi saw something glittering on Sayaka's face, and she felt something cutting her cheeks as something else welled up through her chest into her throat.

Hitomi trembled. And then she woke up.

Madoka felt something moist roll down her cheeks and fall off of her chin. The little girl was the same age as Tatsuya, yet she was being forcibly torn from her world: "Why… why did you show me that?"

The alien creature in the shape of a girl smiled and sipped her whiskey: "To show you how terrible the galaxy is. The Tau is one of your potential allies."

"Allies?" Madoka sniffled. "My ally doesn't enslave my people! My ally doesn't forcibly separate a child from her parents!"

"But this is the best you can get in this universe. Do you know why they haven't risen up and challenged the Tau?" The girl snarled quietly. Even though the smile on her face did not fade, Madoka could hear it vanishing in her voice: "That's because even though the Tau are sterilizing them and using them as slaves, they are still fed and clothed and treated with some dignity. That's more than what they could get from your Imperium!"

"She speaks the truth," He had finally broken his long silence, and Madoka could sense the bitterness in His voice, "the living conditions of many Imperial citizens are abysmal."

"Then why didn't anyone do anything about it? Why do they keep living like that? Why aren't measures taken to make them more comfortable?" Madoka simply could not fathom the answers to those questions. The Imperium, in her impressions, was a vast empire with almost limitless resources. Even though they were at war across the galaxy against many hostile species and bleeding millions of men every day, it should not have prevented most citizens from getting at least adequate food, water, and sanitation.

"There are no easy answers to those questions, Kaname Madoka," the girl drained her glass in one long chug. Lazily, she laid the empty bottle flat on the table and spun it in melancholic boredom: "You think that you can solve every problem. The fact of the matter, however, suggests that you are not even close to being able to solve every problem on your own.

"Humanity's enemies are not the Tau. They are not the Eldar. They are not the Orks. They are not the Necrons. They are not even the Tyranids, whose full, terrible might you have yet to witness," the girl continued as the bottle spun. "Humanity's enemies are, will be, and have always been themselves. You are the dominant species in the galaxy; you are the major source of power for the Chaos gods, who in turn play with your people like pieces on an infinitely large chess board."

Madoka remained silent as the girl's voice trailed off, but her mind was restless. She reached deep within His memories and thoughts, desperately probing for evidence to refute the girl's claim. She was only greeted with disappointment. The devastation caused by the Horus Heresy was not because of aliens that meddled in the Imperium's affairs. It was caused by madness, greed, suspicion, doubt, jealousy, rage—all of them perfectly human qualities.

"I… these things… I can't just remove them," Madoka whispered. "These emotions define us. They are what makes us who we are. I can't lobotomize a whole race."

"You are… what do you humans call it? 'Caught between a rock and a hard place', I believe. Oh, it matters little how I say it; the situation remains," the girl replied with a drunken grin, "As you know, these emotions also feed your enemies. No matter how hard you work, no matter how hard you try, they would always remain."

"When I… when I decided to take on this responsibility, 'impossible' isn't an answer, and it isn't an answer now!" Madoka snarled. "Even if I'm not able to solve every problem, I can at least do something to make their lives better! No one in the universe is in a better position to help them than I am!"

The girl nodded, her ever-present smile growing wider: "Perhaps He was right to choose you as His host, after all. Naïve and inexperienced as you may be, you possess an iron will that could stand up to him as an equal. This next fragment may give you some ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Ideas on how you can make a difference," she picked up the last picture frame in that stack and played with it in her hand, spinning it on top of her slender index finger like a tiny saucer. "Any action that touches more than one important person's pie would be met with resistance. Reforming your Imperium will take more than time and patience; it would require quite a bit of military force and all the political capital you can get. Though your influence in the Imperium would be unparalleled and your word is law, you cannot reasonably expect that everyone would abide by your laws in earnest the moment you utter them."

Madoka knew what she meant by "resistance"; the thought of the word saddened her. His disposition did not help things, either: "There will likely be bloodshed. Although we are the leader of the Imperium, our position means nothing if our subordinates would not follow. Ten thousand years of corruption and bureaucracy are not so easily swept aside, and people in positions of power would fight back in any way they can as is dictated by their human nature. People under their charge—simple, innocent folks who knew not the big picture and knew not that they were being deceived—would do the majority of the bleeding. Bringing these factions under your control is likely to consume much of your energy in the next couple of centuries."

"I wish… I wish they would understand. If they saw the big picture, they would understand," Madoka said wistfully.

"Just the opposite, in fact," the girl replied to Madoka's whisper. "The Eldar was a psychic race. They could communicate their ideas and thoughts quite well with each other. But in the end, Chaos still took them, and they are, as you know, on the verge of extinction. Even with telepathy, most of them did not understand.

"Observe you and Him," the girl continued, as she noticed that Madoka was listening intently. "Both of you share the same shell. Both of you share the same memories and experience the same things. Yet you two almost never reach the same conclusions. Why is that?"

"That's because we are different—!" Madoka snapped, and immediately she realized what the girl was trying to say. "Yes… we are different. Homura-chan and I are different. Kyouko and I are different. Hitomi and I are different. Even Sayaka and I are different. We won't necessarily come to the same conclusions."

"You want to reform the Imperium so that its citizens could live a better life, protect them from external harm, and at the same time do it without bloodshed. It is a lofty goal, and an admirable one, if not one that is highly improbable to achieve," the girl spun the bottle once more. "Doing it without a psychic compulsion is next to impossible. Said compulsion would be to have your people obey your every word; in effect, it is a more insidious sort of slavery. Instead of aliens or Chaos being their master, you would serve that role, and no one but yourself would even be aware that you enslaved them."

"Improbable and impossible are not the same," Madoka balled her fists. "If there is a chance, no matter how slim, that it could happen, then I'm taking that chance."

"You will be sorely disappointed," the girl sighed and slid the picture frame to Madoka. "The odds are stacked against you. Your resources would be stretched to the breaking point while you fight in dozens of theaters across the galaxy against aliens and your own people. Even I do not see how this course of action could bear any fruit."

Madoka glanced down at the picture frame: "Still. I have to try."

"I hope you are prepared enough for disappointment and despair," the girl's smile vanished for the first time, "but enough of the talk about the Imperium's social problems. The more pressing matter—and one that thankfully does not present you a sadistic choice—is how you would deal with the real threat to your species."

"Chaos," Madoka whispered. "The existence of emotions fuel them."

"Yes, but this species had quite effectively utilized their psychic presence and at the same time be largely immune to Chaos," the girl smiled. "Observe."

"I don't think I should." Madoka averted her eyes and avoided touching the frame. "So far, the images you have shown me were nothing like you advertised."

"I have only shown you facts as I know them, young one. Whether or not you accept them is up to you."

Wondering whether or not she was actually a glutton for punishment, Madoka reached out and reluctantly touched the frame. She was whisked to a barren planet thick with radioactive soot. A long canyon was the first thing that caught Madoka's attention. At the end of the canyon, what seemed like the massive wreckage of a large space ship lay silent. The wreckage seemed to be maintained as it was looted: Madoka saw stocky, green-skinned humanoids carrying parts and components out of the wreckage as others scaled it, painting strange symbols and pictures on the ship's distorted hull.

The one imagery that she saw repeated was a giant skull. The skull was primitive to say the best: its cranium is irregularly shaped and square, and its lower jaw was much more prominent than its upper jaw. Many of these skull symbols—some metal, some paint, some wood, some made from bleached bones, to Madoka's disgust—were placed there, some overlapping others.

In the distance, Madoka saw that these green-skinned creatures were erecting something. Being curious, she flew toward it for a closer look. The humanoid machine was a giant, bloated version of the greenskins themselves. It was constructed from patches of metal shoddily welded together and painted blood red, and it bristled with weapons mounted everywhere: one gigantic gun with sharp metal jaws around it even extruded from its enormous armored belly. As some greenskins dressed like mechanics and repairmen climbed the four-story-high construct, others danced at its feet in a sort of religious chant. Madoka could see metal and parts from the crashed vessel being ferried to the construction camp by smaller creatures.

Large banners and signs dotted the place. Madoka could not help but notice that these signs, too, bore the same design as the symbols she saw on the hull of the wreck: large, square skull with an oversized lower jaw and ragged teeth. She glanced up at the unfinished war machine. Its head, too, was a large, square object with an oversized lower jaw and ragged teeth.

She floated down to ground level and observed these aliens. Their armor and weapons were made from nothing but bits of scrap metal; they were so shoddy and primitive that Madoka had a hard time imagining any of them working as they are intended. But apparently, the menacing weapons matched the violent nature of these creatures, as one of them just used a makeshift pistol to blow off the head of a smaller, scrawny creature. They had large, square craniums with barely any hair. Their jaws were oversized: each and every one of them had an under-bite. Their tusks extrudes from their lower jaw upwards, making them even more bestial in appearance.

Perhaps it was a confidence issue, Madoka thought; these symbols and the giant mech all resemble themselves. Though these were ugly creatures, they seemed pleased with their appearance. Or, maybe it was a kind of worship, Madoka guessed. After all, humans once thought that God also looked human; art from ages past all but confirms this train of thought, as God was often depicted as a wise, old man of various color. These symbols and the mech may as well resemble their version of God…

Their version of God…!

Before her train of thought could finish, Madoka was suddenly yanked back to the dinner table.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Homura was surrounded by clocks. Grandfather clocks, gemmed wrist watches, mechanical alarm clocks, cat-shaped digital alarm clocks, even the large machine they call an "atom clock" floated and spun idly around her, their noises forming a cacophony that echoed throughout the empty space around her.

She glanced around. Her body ached. She was in her Magical Girl uniform, her trusty time-travelling shield still strapped on her wrist. She has no wounds on her body; but somehow, there seemed to be ethereal knives carving into her flesh, driving into her organs, and she was suffering excruciating pain.

She swung her body around. The deep blue background was dotted with speckles of light, twinkling and winking at her like stars on a clear summer night. As much as she tried, however, she could not ignore the monotonous ticks of the clocks around her. Attempts to swim away from the circle of timekeeping devices was futile, she soon learned; space was not a fluid, after all.

Frustrated, she reached out to a circular clock. Her hand passed through it, to her surprise, and the clock itself starts to warp and shift. At the same time, everything around her seemed to melt into a soft liquid that flowed along undefined curvatures and all of them started screaming, ringing, chiming, beeping; their noise overwhelmed even the loudest thoughts Homura had and slammed into her brain like a giant sledgehammer.

She quickly retracted her hand; it, too, began melting like the rest of her body, and her vision distorted. To her abject horror, the Soul Gem on the back of her hand was pitch black.

With a scream, she woke up to the ceiling of her room in the hospital. The curtain was closed; the fluorescent light on the ceiling bled a sickly white into the room, shrouding everything in pathological paleness. The small bundle of flowers sitting in a PET bottle vase on her bedside table had already wilted. Beside said vase, there rested a well-read book, on top of which Homura's red half-framed glasses lay in silence.

The front and the back of her lingerie were both drenched. Homura panted heavily, trying hard to steady her heart rate. How many times has it been? She wondered. How many iterations had it been since she met Madoka for the first time? How many failures had it been since she made her wish? How many more times would she have to repeat this sad fate only to see Madoka die?

Intuitively she felt for the Rosario, but it was not there. As it should be, Homura remembered, because she had given it to Madoka already and…

Homura's train of thought skidded to a halt. Wait a darn minute. Madoka had completed her pact with Him. The planet was destroyed. They were travelling through the webway, and then they stumbled upon a weird alien that led them to the Black Library, and…

"Greetings, Akemi Homura."

A voice called to her. Homura tilted her head to see the voice's owner, and her eyes widened. Standing in front of her was herself with twin braids bound with red ribbons and wearing a pair of red-framed glasses. It was… it was her past self.

"What are you?" Homura asked, her body suddenly tense. "You are not me. What are you?"

"It is more accurate to say that 'I am no longer you,' is it not, Akemi Homura?" Her doppelganger smiled and sat beside her bed.

Homura wanted to move, but she felt weak. "What do you want?" She hissed, averting her eyes from her twin. "What are you trying to accomplish by wearing my likeliness?"

"Why, to seduce Kaname Madoka, of course! Have you not already succeeded in that?" The sentence almost earned the creature a faceful of wilted plants and stagnant water as Homura flung the PET vase along with its content at her. "Ooh. I must have hit a sensitive spot."

"Silence, Xeno." Homura snarled. She wanted to roll off the bed and blast the damned alien with her melta gun, but her muscles refused to cooperate. And then she noticed her Soul Gem in the alien's palm: "Return that to me. Now."

"Would it not be more appropriate to request that I 'put you down'?" The alien's wicked smile never vanished. She spun the amethyst gem in her hand like spinning an egg. "I am aware of what you are, you know."

"So?" Homura growled, "I would rather die than have you use me as a hostage against Madoka."

"Relax, Akemi Homura," the alien responded by casually tossing the Gem to Homura, who barely caught it with her hands, "for your role in the cosmos was preordained, and I would not attempt to rewrite fate. Though, I know that a certain mutual acquaintance of ours who would love to see it rewritten."

"Why am I here?" Homura asked pointedly, having already transformed into her Magical Girl outfit. "And why are you taking on my face?"

"Why? Because I felt like it," the creature cackled. It fished out a golf club out of seemingly nowhere, and twirled it around like a baton, "and because I know all about you, Akemi Homura. This is the original golf club with which you initially armed yourself."

"Enough!" Homura rolled off of her bed. She pulled out her handgun—a Desert Eagle that she had kept around for a long time—and aimed it at the creature, flicking off its safety and racking a round faster than the eye could tell. "Enough with the mind games! What do you want?"

"A better question for you, Akemi Homura, is what do you want?" The alien asked, staring down the barrel of Homura's weapon with no fear. "Now that you've accomplished your mission of saving yourself from your endless cycle of suffering, what do you want to do next?"

"Except that's not what I did at all," Homura protested, her gun shaking slightly as she gripped it tighter. "All I ever wanted was to stop Madoka from dying or from becoming a Witch. This motivation has nothing to do with myself!"

"Such fierce denial may buy you some sympathy from the ignorant, but I know better, Akemi Homura," the alien giggled loudly as if Homura had just said something hilarious. "You simply cannot deny that you wished for a happy ending, one in which you and Kaname Madoka lived happily ever after like a prince and a princess in some fairy tale. I am amazed that it had deluded you for so long."

"How dare you say that!? How dare you!?" Homura snarled menacingly as her finger curled around the trigger, but somehow she found herself unable to pull it. "All I wished for is her happiness! All I wished for is for her to live a wonderful life!"

"But examine her current predicament, Akemi Homura," the girl continued to chuckle. "I would be strained to say that her future is a wonderful one. I could not possibly say with a straight face that Kaname Madoka would obtain happiness. And it was you, Akemi Homura, who have thrust this fate upon her."

"This is better than having her become a Witch that devours the entire universe! Or have her possessed by some daemon!" Homura screamed and added her left hand to steady her grip.

"But does she deserve to burn out her fire for trillions of people she has never met? Does she want to expend her light to master the darkness that cannot be conquered? Does she deserve this fate, that which upon her you have thrust? Does she?"

"It's the… it's the only way!" Homura's voice broke, "I don't want to see her suffer! I don't want to see her die! Not again! Not again!"

"So, at the very core, all of this looping, all of this… bloodshed, they are still for yourself," the alien scoffed, "but that is perfectly fine. There is no fault to be found in selfishness. I have to commend you, even; you have endured pain and anguish to work for your goal, even though said goal is not exactly what you had in mind.

"But, what's done is already done," it continued. "The more important thing for you to realize is, now that your goal has been achieved in a way, what's next? You have lived for Madoka's freedom from this vicious cycle, and you have succeeded in freeing her from it. For whom should you live now? For what would you fight now?"

Homura's eyelids drooped a little. She quickly averted her eyes and stared into a corner, but her hands—and her gun—did not shift their target. In that moment, however, the alien moved like water. In the blink of an eye, Homura found herself disarmed and the creature breathing menacingly into her face.

"A moment of weakness may rob you of the chance to regret it, Akemi Homura," the alien growled like a predator. Homura found herself unable to tear her eyes away from its face, even though it looked exactly like her. "Certainly, Kaname Madoka is vastly stronger than you are in many aspects, but you too must remain steadfast, Akemi Homura, for there exists ones that would rely on your strength as well."

"What… are you trying to say?" The alien's presence seeped into Homura's pores. Only at this distance did Homura realize that she was way out of her league. The creature's power was such that not even she, who toyed with time at will, would be able to defeat it, and especially not on its home turf.

"There will be many trials for you, for Kaname Madoka, and for humanity as a whole after your departure from here," the alien breathed, her words seemingly stabbing into Homura like thrown knives. "Without your strength, without your resolve, without your courage, I fear that all your efforts up till now will be for naught."

Homura took a step backwards and found herself falling onto her bed, with the alien on top of her. Her hands were still tightly restrained by the alien's iron grip, and she found it hard to breathe with the alien's other hand pressing down on her collarbone with all its weight.

"You have been forged in the hottest blaze and tempered in the coldest frost. You have experienced much, learned much, and lost much," the alien continued, caring not how Homura felt. "On the other hand, though powerful beyond measure, Kaname Madoka does not share the experience you possess. I have tried to influence her the best I can, as has the soul you bequeathed upon her, but even that remains insufficient. Your counsel would be necessary to guide her boundless energy and steer her relentless drive for change."

"I… The only thing I know how to do is to fight, I'm…" Homura averted her eyes again, but she could feel the alien's eyes bearing into her skull. "I don't know if I can…"

"It is to our mutual benefit, Akemi Homura, for I am certain that you would like to help her avoid many a pitfall," it said while breathing into Homura's ear. It tickled her so much that she blushed lightly. "If you wish for her happiness, it is the most logical course of action."

The alien's grip loosened and it removed itself from Homura, enabling her to breathe normally once more. Homura panted for a moment and caught her breath: "But… why me?"

"You are her friend. You have her ears. And, as a friend, it would be your duty to correct her when she strays, would it not?" The creature let out a long, drawn-out cackle as she walked away from Homura's bed into what seemed to be an endless void.

"Choose well, Akemi Homura. I look forward to how you shape the galaxy."

"…oka! …adoka!"

A voice rang in her head, calling her name. Who was it? She sounded awfully familiar…

"Madoka!"

With a gentle shake of her body, Madoka opened her eyes. Homura was sitting by her side and looking over her; the black-haired girl's face was filled with worry. Sayaka stood between her and something with her sword drawn. Kyouko and Hitomi used to stand with her, but quickly broke formation when Madoka woke up to be at her side.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're okay…" Homura breathed a sigh of relief.

"How… how long was I out…?" Madoka was still a little disoriented. It had to have been a long time, she reckoned, given the length of her experience with the girl in that illusion; but despite her dizziness, she sat up with some help from Homura.

"We've just woken up, too," answered Homura, wiping a hint of a tear from the corner of her eyes and squeezing out a smile, "I don't know exactly for how long we've all been out."

"It has not been that long, really." Madoka immediately recognized that voice. The alien who had played tricks on her senses—and presumably on the senses of the rest of the Magical Girls—sat on the other side of the Magical Girl barrier. "Welcome, Kaname Madoka, to the Black Library."

Madoka glanced around her surroundings. She was lying under a colorful Wraithbone dome of life-like colored debossings much like the frescoes and tiled ceilings she saw inside churches. The figure, on the other hand, sat on a Wraithbone throne decorated with intricately carved curves and motifs of fleurs-de-lis. The chamber in which they sat seemed circular with no windows, and the curved walls were adorned with sculptures of various Eldar in differing poses.

"This is the Black Library?" She asked quietly. "There are no books."

The figure chuckled loudly: "An ordinary library would not check your sanity, test your resolve, or understand your motivations."

"You're the one… that…" Madoka could still feel the throbbing headache that trick had left her. "What… did you want to accomplish?"

"It was merely a test, Kaname Madoka," the figure giggled, "the knowledge of the Black Library is not to be given freely. Though your admittances are allowed, we must make certain that you would be able to put such potent weapons of destruction to good use."

"That was all a test?" Madoka was incredulous. "You went too far for a test! Why did you have to show me all of that?"

"You must understand the universe as they are. For you, learning on the job is not an option, since we fear that you and the universe may suffer… unintended consequences, shall we say," he continued to chuckle, "It is in your power, Kaname Madoka, to save your children and mine. Knowledge is our weapon against the tide of madness, and we shall bequeath it to you for that purpose."

"Your… children?"

"I believe you are already acquainted with them," he shifted his legs and leaned back, "the foolish children of ours, who led their paradise into ruin millennia ago."

The Eldar!

"Of course!" Madoka blurted without a moment of thought, "Of course! They've suffered long enough! They deserve a second chance!"

She stood up, and he slipped out of his throne. Sayaka quickly sheathed her sword and stood to her side, and the two came face to face on the red carpet that extended from his throne.

"Kaname Madoka," he said solemnly. Even though Madoka had grown quite a bit since her transformation, he was still about a head taller than her, and his build was much more slender—almost pathologically so, in fact. The mask on his face did not obscure his eyes; through them, Madoka could see the universe staring back at her.

"This is no game," he continued as Madoka unflinchingly looked into his eyes. "You realize that you cannot eliminate conflicts and thus bloodshed."

Madoka hesitated for a moment: "… Perhaps. As long as people retain their individuality, no amount of communication would eliminate conflicts. I would not be so foolish as to attempt to brainwash everyone."

He smiled: "Indeed. It is the same between humans, and it is the same between other species."

"I now know what my role would be," Madoka continued. "I am the defender of humanity and its friends, and the bane of its enemies. I will protect those under my charge with all my power, and I will serve them faithfully so that their pursuit of happiness remain unhindered. The end does not and will not justify the means; therefore, I will lead my people with honor, courage and compassion, so that our actions are just, our intentions pure, and our rewards satisfying and well-deserved."

"What do you do when your people are threatened?"

"I will defend them without hesitation."

"What do you do when your friends betray you?"

"I will help them see the error of their ways."

"What do you do when you're faced with a hard choice?"

"I will work so that I would never have to."

"You have already failed once at that." The reminder sent Madoka's face twisting with pain. The images of devastation Chaos wreaked on her planet were seared into her mind.

"Never again!" She answered, her form seething and trembling. "Because I know how painful it is, no one else should experience what I went through! Never again!"

"Good answers, Kaname Madoka of the Imperium, though reality may contradict you on that last one," he laughed and applauded, before laying his hand onto her forehead: "As long as you abide by these words, you would be a good leader. As such, I shall now bestow my knowledge upon you; knowledge that I have safeguarded for many millennia, knowledge that you may use to aid you in achieving your goal."

Madoka was blinded by a flash of light. She found herself floating in a sea of deep azure adorned with billions of twinkling lights, some even right in front of her. With but a thought, a sparkle of light leaped into her palms, and she brought it in front of her eyes. It blinked and whispered to her feats of which she dared not dream, miracles that she never thought of attempting.

The vast knowledge of the Black Library was within her grasp, yet they were not hers. Madoka knew that it would take years upon years of study and research to make sense of all of them, but at the moment, she needed to attend to more pressing matters.

Her physical body stumbled backwards as the blinding flash subsided. Still reeling from the awesome feeling of empowerment, she let out an airy, hoarse laugh. Around her, her companions exchanged worried looks; the suspicion that he had harmed her somehow was visible in their eyes.

"That… that was amazing…" Madoka's hands trembled. She thought about better containing her powers, and almost instantly, several dozen bits of knowledge came rushing into her brain. "I could… this is… wow…"

"Be careful, Kaname Madoka. Although information is power, knowledge is to be feared and ignorance a virtue, as your Imperium is prone to say," he chuckled at Madoka's amazement. "Though, ultimately, it is not information that causes harm, but one's own actions taken in accordance with the interpretation of such information that are capable of causing calamities."

"In short, it is not what I know, but what I do with what I know," Madoka nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you."

"There is no need for gratitude," He seemed taken aback at Madoka's smile; his attempt at hiding his surprise was not entirely successful. But he quickly regained his composure: "The knowledge is yours to share, but only amongst your companions in the library today. I trust you will exercise good judgment and abide by that rule."

"Certainly, but… why just the five of us?" Madoka was puzzled.

"You are still too trusting to strangers. Secrets are like water in a glass; once spilled, it can never be recovered," he said, stressing the word "never": "You must not share it outside of your companions whom I have invited in here with you today. Am I understood?"

"… Yes."

Madoka's answer was to his satisfaction. He then brought out a metallic cube, before grabbing Madoka's right hand and placing it on her palm: "And one last thing."

"What is this?" Madoka marveled at the cube. It was a trinket not just slightly bigger than a tennis ball. There were ridged grooves on two of its faces, a small crystalline "port" on another face, and the rest of its faces were completely smooth. If it were an artifact capable of great feats, it was certainly unremarkable; Madoka expected it to at least be as ornate as the hilt of Homura's power sword, if that was the case.

"The answer to that question lies beneath crimson sands, Kaname Madoka," he laughed, before turning away from the group of Magical Girls. "Go now. You have a promise to fulfill."

"I will definitely protect everyone!"

But before Madoka's words could reach him, they were sent away from his side.

"Would you able to keep your promise, I wonder? Or would you be doomed to fail like we who came before you?" He mused, his voice wispy.

"The actors are in place. The stage is set. The curtains part. The final act is about to begin…"

The Warp Storm between Mars and Terra had finally matured as the Astropaths and the Prognosticars predicted. The ones that dared peer into the storm and investigate the eye had to be put down after their minds were utterly shattered by some malignant presence in the storm; as such, the Lord Castellan had no idea how many ships were coming through the eldritch portal until they poured forth.

Creed thought the Black Crusade was the full might of the Traitors. After all, few Chaos incursions could cause devastation on the magnitude of a Black Crusade. If the Imperium had weathered thirteen Black Crusades throughout the millennia, they could withstand this attack, especially when Chaos forces would be depleted since the end of the last crusade was not that long ago.

He was wrong.

The Traitor fleet that had emerged from the Warp Storm was larger than anything he had ever seen. He had read the naval scouting reports; the bulk of Abaddon's host had not arrived because there were no sightings of the Planet Killer, and that by no means comforted him. Given the numbers of the Traitor fleet, and anticipating the horrors carried by those ships, that he could only fathom, he expected that the combined might of Battlefleets Solar, Agripnaa, Gothic, and Armageddon could only delay the eventual landing of Traitors on Terra.

The Traitors, in their vanity, used to launch costly ground assaults at the Imperial Palace and that had always given the Faithful an edge. The Imperial Palace was extremely well fortified against orbital bombardment and ground assault alike, and Creed was certain that the Custodes along with the Imperial Fists who had just arrived at Terra would defend it to their last breath. A protracted siege with the best defenses of the entire galaxy on their side would only cost the Traitors manpower and resources.

The Lord Castellan quickly flicked away ash from his cigar as his command post rumbled. Regardless of the Astartes' devotion and zeal, the cold mathematics of war was not on the Imperium's side. Eventually, their forces would be depleted and the Imperial Palace breached. Their hopes would be resting on reinforcements arriving from across the galaxy to its defense, but through foul machinations of Chaos, all Warp travel to Terra had been significantly delayed. Any chapter, regiment or battlefleet outside of Segmentum Solar was likely to miss the defense altogether. In the worst case, if the Astronomican were to blink off while the bulk of the Imperium's forces were in transit…

Creed shuddered at the possibilities. The Astronomican had just recently blinked off for a fraction of a second, and that was enough to disrupt logistics and communication in many sectors. Thousands upon thousands of ships—some full with Guards units—were lost within the Warp. Creed thought that the one report of an entire Astartes chapter lost in the Warp due to said blinking of the beacon was a gross exaggeration, but at this moment he could not be certain.

His underground command bunker rumbled again. The Traitors knew that the first step to dominating Terra was to conquer Luna. The Nova cannons built into Luna had already destroyed a few cruisers, but the dent they put into the Traitor's numbers was negligible.

They would soon attempt a massive orbital drop into Luna, Creed surmised. Although it would seem suicidal, seizing the massive Nova Cannons mounted on Luna was the surest way the Traitors had to assert dominance in the space around Terra. Without control of Luna, the Nova Cannons would continue to pick off heretic ships and provide fire support for the Imperium's battlefleets, making their descent onto Terra much more perilous.

The naval battles were still taking place, but the Heretics had the strength of numbers. Creed glanced at the hololith display; astronomic sensor arrays had already picked up a swarm of transports disengaging from troop carrier ships and heading toward Luna. Without even his orders, his aides had commanded interceptor wings block their approach and mobilized all anti-air installations to shoot them down before they land. Creed knew, however, that whatever countermeasures they muster could not stop all the drop pods.

The situation was bleak, to put it mildly. Creed was slightly intimidated; even though he had faced worse odds during the Black Crusade, the knowledge that his logistics chain was virtually indestructible was a great comfort to both him and his men. It meant that they could have reinforcements, ammunition and other essential supplies shipped to them whenever they desired. The Admirals of the battlefleets currently in Terran orbit gave him no such guarantees.

"Sir," a communication aide handed him a large vox phone with both his hands and bowed, "Lord Commander Dante wishes to speak with you."

The Blood Angels. Creed drew out a pent-up sigh and picked up the phone. He was fully cognizant of the exploits of the Sons of Sanguinius, and to say that they left a bad taste in his mouth was putting it lightly. Certainly, their dedication to the Emperor was unquestioned; their Primarch gave his life defending the Emperor from Horus according to legend. But the deeds they performed on and off the battlefield was downright terrifying to many of his Guardsmen.

Moreover, having these chapters on his side could prove to be a double-edged sword, for Creed was also painfully aware of the fierce sense of independence in the modus operandi of these Astartes chapters. Though their combat skills were unmatched, their actions could also throw the equivalent of a cyclonic torpedo into his machinations. Needless to say, he would never stand for it.

"Lord Commander, it is an honor." Regardless of his opinions, Creed had to show due respect to this ancient Astartes warrior. "What do you require of us?"

"Lord Castellan. Your exploits during the Black Crusade are known to us." Dante's age clearly showed through his slow and deliberate speech. "The sons of Sanguinius are marshaled on Luna. We understand that the Traitors would attack soon."

"Yes, Lord Commander. In fact, our sensors indicate that the first wave of pods would be dropping right now. We have diverted interceptors to prevent their landing."

"The Traitors are moving fast, but I am afraid that this would only be a screening force." Dante's combat experience greatly exceeded Creed's own, and Creed was inclined to take the Astartes' opinions seriously. "They would use their numbers to exhaust our ammunition and occupy our interceptors, so that they may strike at another location."

"That is a likely tactical option that they may exploit," Creed concurred, "though our sensors have not yet picked up anything resembling a two-pronged attack."

"Being the Traitor's siege specialists, the Iron Warriors are the most likely to spearhead the assault," Dante continued, "the Imperial Fists must be salivating at once again settling the score between them and these specific Traitors."

Creed chuckled: "Their talents are best spent fortifying the Imperial Palace."

"Indeed. And if this should be Chaos' final push against us, the Traitor Primarchs must be amongst their ranks."

Creed drew in a sharp breath. The names of these Traitor Primarchs were enough to strike nightmares into the weak-willed. They were the closest thing to the Emperor, who was Himself a physical God amongst men. Twisted by Chaos and corrupted by the Warp, he could only imagine the power they would wield.

"The Inquisition will deal with them."

"They will, certainly; but Lord Castellan, you must be prepared to sacrifice your men to slow them down. We cannot afford to deplete the Astartes in large numbers, for we both know where the real battle would be fought."

Damn you, you sanctimonious vampire, Creed cursed. Though Dante spoke the truth, not even Creed would be foolish enough to simply throw men against demigods and use their sacrifices to slow them down. Putting aside the extremely low chance of such an insane plan working, he had few men available under his command; he could not afford to deplete his strategic reserves so early in a conflict of this scale.

"Sir!" Another aide rushed to him in a hurry and handed him a piece of paper. Creed glanced over the contents of the note and crumpled it, before turning his attention back to the phone.

"Lord Commander, another batch of drop pods and Traitor transports just landed in Mare Tranquillitatis."

"The Iron Warriors, no doubt. I shall marshal my forces to meet them in battle immediately. The Emperor be with you, Lord Castellan."

"The Emperor protects."

The call was terminated. Creed sank into his chair in deep thought. Mare Tranquillitatis was a couple hundred kilometers away from his position; if the Iron Warriors worked fast, he would have at most a few hours to evacuate.

"Get me the commanders of the 29th, 88th, and 102nd Siege Korps of Krieg and the Cadian Shock Troop regiments assigned within the Mare Tranquillitatis," Creed ordered without hesitation. These forces would be essential in containing the Iron Warriors threat within the Mare. They, and the fortifications built around and inside the area, would be his anvil upon which he shall place the enemy.

"Also, get me all the artillery units around that area. I want their positions well concealed from orbital counter-battery fire." If the Iron Warriors were indeed making a daring drop here by using the drop from the main force as a decoy, there had to be supporting elements of their fleet nearby. The artillery elements was the mallet with which Creed would hammer the enemy; to lose it to orbital bombardment so early in the battle would be unnecessary.

"Lastly, get me the commander of the Luna Defense Fleet, and request that they wipe out the Traitor's transport fleet above the Mare." Even without his request, it would be the painfully obvious thing to do; Creed sat back and lit another cigar. On his words, men would perish, fortresses would be torn asunder, and devastation would follow.

As it should be in warfare.

Kyubey could not remember when he was punted into the Warp.

All he remembered—and this too was shrouded in a thick mist in his mind—was that Kaname Madoka, of all people, blasted a way through his army of Witches, subdued him, and then proceeded to lay waste to Abaddon's fleet before escaping the planet, which Abaddon then conveniently blew up with his giant cannon.

That imbecile!

If Abaddon had not destroyed the planet, Kyubey would still have a planet full of potential sacrifices he could seed to all corners of the universe. He could then quickly raise a grand army to conquer the entire galaxy for his lord.

But now… now…!

Kyubey spat as his body was carried forward, but then a wave of fear struck him. Not only had he failed to acquire Kaname Madoka's shell for his lord's habitation, he had also failed to annex her planet for his use. Though the occasions were exceedingly rare and far between, nobody had survived the Architect of Fate's wrath and told the tale.

At the moment, he was being ushered into Tzeentch's sanctum by a pair of his Greater Daemons through the Crystal Labyrinth. Kyubey himself was incapable of navigating this maze on his own; though he possessed immunity to age, he knew that he could not possibly comprehend the myriad paths and dead-ends of the maze, which were even then constantly shifting and changing.

He remained in his humanoid form. Ever since he entered the Warp and the Lords of Change began escorting him, he could not shift his form. He had no idea why, but frankly he did not care; he had much more immediate problems, for they had arrived at his lord's sanctum.

Being dragged up the spiraling stairs of the Hidden Library, Kyubey had no mood to marvel at the floating bookshelves around the staircase and the many Lords of Change that scurried between them, being used as nothing but librarians. Only his lord could master this many powerful daemons for mundane tasks such as organizing arcane tomes.

The concept of time was meaningless within such a twisted realm. It only seemed a short while since they started their ascent, but Kyubey was already delivered in front of ornate trellis gates that stood guard in front of the Grand Schemer's chamber. With soft creaks, the gates opened on their own, revealing a path paved with crystals that shifted colors as the Lords of Change treaded upon them.

With each step, Kyubey's fear grew. What would his master think of his failures? What punishment would Tzeentch deem appropriate for him?

How much would he suffer?

Kyubey was tossed before Tzeentch's throne. Trembling, he kneeled on all fours, unable to even muster any courage to look up.

"Incubator," the Changer of the Ways spoke, his voice wispy and hollow.

"Master," Kyubey shuddered at the single word.

"We are aware of your failures, Incubator. To say that we are displeased is an understatement."

"Master, I… I submit myself to your judgment."

"As you should," Tzeentch scoffed, "but what makes you think that punishing you would bring us satisfaction?"

"I… Forgive my insolence, master."

The Chaos God chuckled; each laugh sent shocks of frost into Kyubey's core: "Your apology has little worth to us, Incubator. Though your incompetence is less than satisfactory to us, it was not unanticipated."

"… Master?"

"Contingency plans must be set in motion. Many other plots must be carefully executed. Countless agents in the Materium must be manipulated, and their actions meticulously recorded and predicted. Much work lies ahead, Incubator, and you are one of our most crucial pieces on the board."

"I… Master, I am honored," Kyubey let out a silent breath of relief. He would not be punished, it seemed.

"Abaddon was also an important piece, but unlike other pieces he is expendable; as are his forces, of course. You, on the other hand, must endure, as must all your kind within the Materium. For that purpose, certain… alterations must be made."

Kyubey felt his body seize up. Every single piece of bone in his body creaked and screamed as he screamed with them. His flesh and skin shrunk, twisting into bulbous tumors before being absorbed into his smaller body. By the time the mutations were completed, he was walking the thin line of consciousness, unable to feel anything but numbness in his new quadruped body.

"M… master…" he panted as he glanced on the ground with whatever willpower he could muster. His new body looked exactly like his older, more innocuous form.

"This form would prove to be useful in infiltrating the Materium. We are aware that you have had some success in concealing your presence in this form, and we have made certain changes to enhance such functions."

The reverberating burning and stabbing sensation made Kyubey sniffle: "Th… thank you, Master… you are too kind…"

"And now, you shall be seeded into the Materium as my agents to carry out my will."

"What is… what is your will, Master?"

"Times are interesting even for me, Incubator. Though we are being threatened, it is also an incredible opportunity for us to expand and conquer. You will be instrumental in this endeavor."

"I will not fail again, Master."

"Depart. Your instructions will come in the coming days. Now… I have an important game to finish."

As his lord finished these words, the floor beneath Kyubey opened. The next moment, he was inside what appeared to be a dark alley that served as the final resting place for many homeless humans. Sighing, he strutted out of the alley onto a small causeway, only to see large power-armored men and vehicles roll into the streets.

In the distance, the Imperial Palace glittered in the sun.

Madoka's arrow pierced the head of a Bloodthirster. It exploded into a shower of gore that spontaneously combusted into Warp flame like its headless body. The giant creature's corpse fell backwards as it burned, crushing and lighting smaller daemons under it ablaze.

"How many is that now?" She panted and nocked another arrow. A golden gate of light marked their exit to the Webway, and yet so many daemons lay in their path that they could only advance in increments of steps. With a quiet "twang" of the ethereal bowstring, the pink arrow flew through a dozen minor daemons before exploding inside another Bloodthirster's right knee, blowing off its entire lower leg and sending its massive body crashing down onto the ground.

"I have lost count, unfortunately," He responded as she shielded the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen from a flurry of heavy Warp blasts. They fired at whatever they could harm with their weapons, slowly but surely adding some body counts to the group's kill tally. Luckily, Homura still had a stockpile of lasguns and power packs for the Guardsmen, or they would have been liabilities.

Homura and Sayaka danced back to back in front of her, carving a trail of broken daemon parts and burning Warp fire as the group advanced. Wielding a power sword, Homura effortlessly sliced apart a Tzeentchian Horror; its mutagenic flames flowed around her barrier, causing it to burst into a shower of brilliant light. Sayaka parried the next attack aimed at them by a Bloodletter; her sword cleaved clean through its weapon and her follow-up attack cut it apart at its chest. Kyouko and Hitomi shielded Madoka's flanks, repelling daemons who attempted to encircle and strike at Madoka in the center.

"Our psychic emanations are attracting every single daemon in the vicinity," He said as Madoka fired another burst of arrows, annihilating daemons by the dozen with each shot. It barely put a dent in their numbers, however.

"I never expected this many here!" Madoka spun around and shot another Bloodthirster in its face. A dozen streaks of eldritch lightning forced her to erect a shield; they crackled and scattered against the pink protective film, making her wince as they hit.

"The corruption of the Webway is extensive. By the looks of it, the daemons are likely to have run amok since I sealed the Golden Throne. Compounded with our… attractiveness to these creatures, we will likely have to fight our way through every single one of them if we want to reach our exit."

"I never wanted to be so attractive!" Madoka pouted. "At least not to these abominations!"

"I am sure some of them would not mind to commit some more… questionable deeds to you if we were to be apprehended."

"… Is that your way of motivating me?" Madoka gritted her teeth.

"I thought it would work," He smiled. "On the bright side, perhaps you might just lure in a handsome gentleman with your charms."

"Are there such people as 'handsome gentlemen' in this place!?" Madoka snapped incredulously.

"You never know," He teased, but Madoka really was not in the mood for it at the moment.

"You said the Golden Throne was sealed. What happens when we breach it?"

He quietly cleared His throat: "The remaining daemons would likely attempt to follow. We must seal the Throne again upon our arrival as swiftly as we can. I believe with some power from you and the correct incantations, we would be able to accomplish that with few problems."

Madoka's hands and eyes glowed pink as her bow vanished. Her body lifted off the ground as her hair fluttered according to intangible gusts. With a loud grunt of exertion, she pushed her hemispherical barrier out. Minor daemons, upon contact with the barrier, shriveled and disappeared with hoarse, painful screams, their warped essence forcibly sapped from them and fed into the barrier. For greater daemons such as the Bloodthirster and Keepers of Secret, their consumption took far longer: they were flayed layer by layer until nothing but a flicker of Warp fire was left, and then judiciously these flames too were extinguished.

The spell left the rest of the daemons apprehensive. Some had smelled fear for the very first time since their conception in the Warp, and the host hesitated to advance, giving Homura and her friends a valuable moment of reprieve.

Which was just as well, as Madoka collapsed on all fours in exhaustion after the spell. The presence of Sayaka made constructing complex spells difficult, even though she had moved some distance from them, fighting alone in a thick storm of eldritch abominations.

Homura glanced back at Madoka's panting form. Using this chance of rest, she dashed to Madoka's side: "Madoka! Are you okay?"

"I'm… fine…!" Sweat dripped from her hair down to the ground as she gasped for breath. "I just… need to catch my… my breath…"

"The spell is effective," He commented as Homura helped Madoka stand again.

"Yeah, but how many times can I repeat that?" Madoka glanced forward. Though the burst of energy had vaporized a considerable number of daemons, even more remained, crammed like sardines inside the ruined Webway. "If only I could find… a spell that… vaporizes every single one of them…"

Sensing her weakness, a swarm of screeching Furies dived at Madoka, their fanged jaws wide open and their clawed appendages extended to strike.

"Back off!" Homura snarled. Her bracers glowed a brilliant violet as she swept her hand. As the Furies entered the film of power that sweep of her hand created, they were enveloped in an eerie monochrome aura. No matter how much they struggled and screeched, their body would not move. And then, Homura hurled them back toward the daemonic host like missiles with an impatient wave of her hand. Their impacts snapped spines and shattered skulls, and their screeches of suffering could be heard even by Madoka, who was busy browsing her collection of knowledge she obtained in the Black Library.

"Homura, I'm fine…"

"It's my job to protect you, Madoka." Homura left no room for discussion. "I'm staying by your side."

"Then… watch my back, Homura-chan!" Through the many speckles of light, Madoka had finally found the fragment of knowledge for which she sought. Gently pushing Homura aside, she finally stood steady after almost falling to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she gathered whatever energies she could, and—much to her own surprise—she started chanting a spell in an ancient, incomprehensible tongue.

Homura could feel the spell taking shape. Madoka herself was wrapped in a brilliant pink aura, and three pairs of ethereal wings sprouted behind her back. There was no time for her to marvel at Madoka's beauty, however; even as she chanted the lengthy spell, the daemonic horde continued to surge forward.

"Defend the Goddess Empress!" Kane punched a daemonic hound of Khorne in its muzzle as it lunged at Madoka. The punch almost shattered the bones in his hands, but it sent the beast tumbling to the side as he intended. A couple of bolt pistol rounds cracked open the creature's cranium and lit its entire body ablaze, and the corpse slowly burned out in a pyre of Warp fire.

Even the Guardsmen, who were not inherently psychic, felt the commanding presence of their Goddess. Luckily for them, these daemons either had no concept of tactics, or that they thought they could overwhelm the party of ten with their sheer numbers alone. Every las shot, even ones that were fired blindly as the Guardsmen moved, hit something. As the huge circle of power formed on the ground, even the las bolts became deadly against the daemons; what used to inflict minor flesh wounds on a Bloodletter could then blow off its entire upper torso.

Hitomi felt a burst of vigor funneled into her. She smashed her hammer into the ground, the exploding power field blowing away dozens of minor daemons like a gust scattering fallen leaves. Her usual water-green glow took on a tinge of pink as she engaged a Keeper of Secret. Despite its best attempts at inflicting damage with its blades, its pincers, its claws, and even its prehensile, jawed tongue, it recoiled every time when it came into contact with Hitomi's enhanced aura. A flurry of hammer strikes to its grotesque face sent its head exploding into fine, burning mist. Using this momentum, Hitomi landed with an authoritative stomp and swung her hammer around, crushing a handful of minor daemonic beasts into oblivion.

Kyouko, too, was affected as Madoka droned on with the spell's incantations. To her surprise and amazement, the links between the segments of her spear dissolved into ethereal links of energy. Immediately, she used this energy like garroting wire, beheading a Daemonette by wrapping it around its neck and tightening the resulting loop. Then, she quickly separated the spear into more segments, creating a deadly web of power that cut countless less intelligent daemonic beasts into bite-sized chunks.

Homura stood in front of Madoka with her autocannon. She had never used the weapon since she obtained it because of its weight and bulk; the aura emanating from Madoka gave her enough power to actually hold the weapon without expending too much of her own energy. The weapon let out deafening roars of joy as Homura fired it, sending pink 40mm shells into these daemons with impeccable accuracy: one was enough to blow apart a minor daemon, and a handful of them sent even greater daemons to their knees.

To her great suspicion, however, the daemons did not retreat even in the face of horrific losses. With Madoka's radiating aura, even greater daemons—who would normally be opponents that could decimate entire armies—were reduced to mere cannon fodder; the smart thing to do would be to retreat, and Homura was certain that they would be intelligent enough to make the judgment call.

Then, why did they not do so?

Her answer came screaming toward Madoka. It was not a swarm of Furies this time, no; they would be utterly ineffective in this suicidal maneuver. This was something special, something that not even Homura could catch with her eyes until it was too late. It had the body of a snake, yet leathery wings propelled it forward as lithely as an eel in water. It wielded a great, wicked sword in each of its hands, and its eyes glowed with trails of power.

By the time Homura reacted, it was already inches in front of Madoka, whose eyes were closed and whose chanting continued. Its entire body was burning from Madoka's aura, but its actions did not slow one bit. To the contrary, its shape was shielded by a thin layer of bright violet aura. That aura fought furiously against Madoka's own, causing bolts of lightning to strike between them.

Homura understood. The daemons—all of them—were simply a diversion, something to keep her and the rest of her party occupied while leaving Madoka vulnerable. Chaos had placed a trap here, knowing that though these daemons were no match for Madoka's might, she had to resort to casting a large spell to sweep the fodders clean due to their sheer numbers. When she did that, she would have a period of time where she would be vulnerable. And during this precise period, the Ruinous Powers would strike with their most powerful assassin and attempt to destroy her.

And they fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

"NO!" Homura screamed as the creature swung its sword at Madoka's head, aiming to decapitate her in one blow. The Inquisitor and the Guardsmen had yet to turn around to witness this moment, and the other girls were simply too busy on their end to intervene. The sword let loose a bone-chilling light as it descended; so swift was its attack that the blade itself rang.

But it never met its intended target. The loud sound of metal meeting metal almost deafened Homura as the strike was parried. By the time she noticed, a large man had appeared in front of Madoka, his blade holding steady against the foul creature's attack.

The creature hissed; to say that it was unhappy with the results would be a monumental understatement. With the rest of its arms, it engaged the newcomer with a furious flurry of attacks too fast for Homura's eyes to track, but he parried them with seemingly little difficulty.

The newcomer sported tarnished golden power armor and blood-soaked fur around his neck. His red hair was tied into an incredibly long pony tail, and his equally long beard bunched up with blood stains. Having no wings, he could not fly, but the hover bike on which he rode provided that capability; it was grotesquely shaped and adorned with many heads hewn from what appeared to be corrupted Eldar.

Madoka's aura wrapped around the newcomer as he exchanged blow after blow against the daemon with the same lightning speed as the daemon itself. His sickle-shaped scimitar clashed against the daemon's swords. To its great frustration, even though it had four arms of weapons against one, it could not touch him.

Brought out of the daze of seeing the sudden entrance of the large man, Homura whipped her autocannon around and fired one after another psychically enchanted shell into the daemon's back. It howled in pain, but it could not do much against her, for the newcomer would have cleaved it in half if it were to turn its attention away from him for but a single moment. Caught between Homura's unending barrage and the newcomer's relentless blows, it could not advance even though Madoka was but a moment away.

Finally, it selected retreat. Parrying one last blow against the newcomer, it flew straight upwards with punctured and bleeding wings, deftly evading Homura's cannon rounds as she followed its movements. That proved a smart decision in a moment: Madoka's spell was ready.

Nocking an arrow with her bow, she fired it straight forward. The arrow itself punctured countless daemons, but it was merely a delivery device. Each daemon pierced by the arrow exploded into pink beams of power, each of which shot at a daemon around it. Daemons struck by the beam blew up in similar fashions, fueling the spell with its own Warp energy. The chain reaction linked daemon with daemon and beast with beast, each one of them becoming the doom of their many brethren, until none were left standing.

Madoka collapsed immediately after the last daemon perished. After their gambit ended in complete failure, Chaos retreated to lick their wounds in order to prepare for the next offensive, while Madoka and her companions could find some reprieve.

"Madoka! Madoka! Madoka!" Homura discarded her autocannon and sprinted to her side. Madoka's breaths were quick and shallow, and her entire body was drenched in sweat. No matter how much Homura called, she would not respond.

The newcomer hopped off of his hover bike and towered over them, his scimitar still drawn. Homura placed her body between him and Madoka, but her attention was completely focused on the pink-haired Goddess, who had just came back to consciousness.

"Homura-chan… did it work?" She asked weakly.

"Yeah… yeah it did…" Homura could feel something moist in her eyes as she smiled, "Dummy… You had me worried there…"

"I'm so glad…" Madoka let out a quiet sigh of relief, but then her face grew grim: "That was…"

"Fulgrim." The large man replied without a prompt after sheathing his blade.

"Having sent him to apprehend us, the Chaos gods must be desperate," Madoka's eyes glowed gold as her voice took on a masculine edge. "However, we are indeed grateful that you have come in our time of need, Jaghatai."

Jaghatai Khan nodded and kneeled in a gesture of obedience, to Homura's surprise. Even when kneeling, he was taller than Homura: "I have come as you called, Father, but you are… not the shape I expected."

"Fate works in the most fickle of ways, my son. I am glad, however, that you are unharmed."

"My campaign against the foul xenos is not yet finished, Father."

"I… We have need of your service once again."

"Then I shall serve."

"All I ask is to obey this partner of mine—this woman—as you would obey me, my son. Give the same reverence to her as you would afford me. For her will is mine, and mine hers."

"Yes, Father."

Madoka let out a soft sigh as the glow in her eyes subsided: "Thank you… I'm so glad that you came… Homura-chan, help me up…"

"Ah, um, okay…" Homura was not certain what to make of the situation. To say that she expected to see Jaghatai Khan of all people here would be straddling the line of truth. She glanced at the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen: they were all kneeling on the ground in front of the large man, and a couple of the Guardsmen were even trembling in awe.

"Father, what would you ask of me?" He rumbled.

Madoka sighed and feigned a smile: "First, please stand. I am not exactly your father, so just call me… Madoka, I guess?"

"As you wish, Madoka," he slowly stood up. Homura could then truly admire just exactly how tall and muscular he was. He was physically more powerful than anything Homura had seen, but she was amazed at how fast he could also move with that much bulk.

"Now. These people," Madoka gestured to Homura, Sayaka, Kyouko and Hitomi, who by then had gathered around her, "are my closest allies and dear friends. I would never wish for any harm to befall them, so everyone please get along well!" A flurry of acknowledgements came, much to her satisfaction.

"We can't remain here for long, Madoka," Homura urged as Madoka flexed her body, "they would counterattack as soon as they can regroup."

"Then let's go, shall we?" Madoka turned around and gestured the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen, who—very reluctantly—stood, but still had their heads bowed. She then walked up to the gate, and pushed against its frames.

"Toward a brighter future for everyone."

The gates creaked open.