Chapter IX

Jane stared at the wreckage to her feet. The craft had now among others a huge hole in its midsection, and was still smoking, small flames licking over its wounds the Necron guns had inflicted. One could still hear the metal cracking and bending, and it sounded somewhat like the groans of a dying animal. Its entire shape had been deformed by the crash, and the medicae didn't dare to check of what had happened to Djamila; Emperor, why her too?

Mandrake stood next to her, regarding what was left of the Aquila Lander same as her. Apparently he saw her distress, as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, a notion she very much appreciated, and she placed one of her hands upon his. Seth meanwhile was salvaging something from the craft, at least he was trying, while the Inquisitor was contacting his own vessel in orbit to send them a new transporter. Something cracked, a brutal sound in the utterly silent night of the desert, and Seth turned around, a small black box in his hands, cables dangling from one side. Jane felt his eyes on her as he returned to them. "You're alright?" He asked her, and she could hear his concern even through the mask.

"Yes, tonight was just…just…" She didn't know what to say; her mind was blank.

"It's almost over." He reassured her. "You've survived a trip to Necron catacombs; not a feat many can preen themselves on." Jane bit her lower lip beneath her mask and nodded silently. Together the three joined the rest of the team, just when Lord Giuliano had gotten off the vox.

"Our transport will arrive in twenty minutes." He told them. "However we might not yet return to the Adrastos. Apparently while we were in the catacombs, the Eldar and Necron had a fierce battle, and my crew has located the site of the fight, as well as the Eldar's temple."

"I suppose orbital bombardment will deal with the surviving xenos and their unholy edifice." Lord Averroes replied coldly.

Inquisitor Giuliano nodded. "Yes, I've already gave the orders the ships. They will fire once Lord Nicomedo has left the area." He looked at the three Acolytes. "He has survived his battle against the Farseer, and I have just informed him of my intentions; he will be safe."

"Good news indeed, my lord, thank you." Mandrake told him, clearly relived, bowing his head politely. Like the rest of them he too had feared that the Pathfinder would betray the Inquisitor, but apparently that hadn't been the case, or she had been taken out along with her kinsmen.

Giuliano turned back to the Astartes and continued. "However the Eldar have awakened an Avatar, which seemed to have rested until tonight. I believe you agree with me when I say that we cannot allow the Eldar to salvage such a dangerous relict."

"Will the bombardment not take care of him?" His last Acolyte asked him, a question that had sneaked into Jane's thoughts as well.

"The Avatar is a creature flames and fire." His superior reminded him. "Unless he takes a direct hit I'm afraid he's going to survive the coming firestorm."

"Then we will take him out ourselves." Ptolemy concluded, the other two Astartes nodding curtly in agreement.

The Inquisitor did the same. "Yes, we shall make for the temple and finish those foul xenos, before they can escape into their webway."

Jane and Seth looked at each other. When the Pathfinder yet lived and Nicomedo knew what was about to happen, what would he tell her, or for that matter; would he let her live?

"A final request?" Nicomedo frowned as he repeated her words.

Yaidev nodded. "When Arhainceyl and I spoke, he told me he had foreseen how you would destroy the temple and our webway portal, because I've led you here." She explained to him, her voice betraying her concern and inner conflict with what she'd done. "I'd asked that you'll allow my kin to leave this world, those who yet live."

He folded his arms, his expression grim. "I am an Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos; I am a servant of the Emperor, devoted to kill the alien that threaten his people. Tell me why I should not seize this opportunity to purge your kin from this world."

Her eyes narrowed. "Because I've helped you. Or because if you dare to attack my people, I will hunt you down and I will kill you myself." She spoke, repeating his words from earlier, her voice freezing cold; this was no bluff.

"You drive a hard bargain, Eldar." Nicomedo noted dryly. "Then maybe I should inform you that my fellow Inquisitor has just contacted me. They have destroyed the generator and are now heading for the temple."

"Why?"

"It would seem that the crew of his ship has watched your kin battle the Necrons from orbit. The only reason they didn't already shower this place with orbital bombardment was the fact that I am here in proximity." He smiled somewhat smugly. "You could say I have already saved your people. My friend and the Astartes in his company however seek to destroy the Avatar."

"Fools; they could never stand against such an opponent." She knew that only a handful of Astartes had come with Inquisitor Giuliano, and the Avatar of Khaine was the embodiment of a god.

"Do not underestimate the Deathwatch, not their skill or determination." The Inquisitor warned her. "I expect them to arrive within the hour, and there is nothing I could do to stop them. The bombardment has already been ordered; they will kill your people first, and then destroy the Avatar." Nicomedo was convinced that due to its nature, the creature would certainly withstand the fire, even if only badly damaged; alone the Deathwatch could probably take it down. "So the real question is: what will you do?"

The Eldar's fists clenched. "I will warn my people, and get them off this forsaken planet. I suppose they will not fire until you are gone?"

"I'm hoping as much." For his own sake and that of his Acolytes, of course. "You should hurry though."

"Very well." She strode past him to the Farseer's lifeless body. Carefully she removed a brightly shining gemstone from his armor and put it gently into a pouch on her belt. She repeated this until she had taken from each of the dead one such stone, Taylor wondering what significance they held as he watched her. "Perhaps one day we will meet again, Inquisitor Nicomedo." She spoke once she was done.

He scoffed. "It's a vast galaxy; I doubt it." Not that he was thrilled at the thought of crossing paths with her again, as helpful as she'd turned out to be.

"Indeed, but I have come to expect the unexpected." She told him. "Elith, Inquisitor" The Pathfinder gave the Acolytes a nod, which they returned, and swiftly departed. She ran across the desert with inhuman speed, her cloak merging her soon completely with her surroundings, her feet hardly leaving prints in the ashen sand.

For a moment they watched her, before Nicomedo addressed his companions. "Let us depart; it will be quite a march before we reach the transporter."

"Sir?" Taylor began to ask, as they descended down the dune. "Do you know what she meant by 'elith'?"

"I only know a few words of the Eldar language, which is so complex that no human has ever mastered more than basics of it." He explained to the Untouchable. "If I remember correctly it means 'farewell'."

As fast as her feet could carry her, Yaidev dashed across the desert, heading straight for the temple. Yaidev had lost her communicator when she'd thrown herself from her jetbike and fallen into the river, and she felt not yet strong enough to establish a psychic connection to the warlocks that had remained at the temple. The Untouchable's effect had not yet completely worn off, however she still had her bracer with which she could communicate with her ship. She could only give it simple commands that were then transmitted to the ships very own Spirit Stone, and what little of her natural powers she could use at this point was enough to have the ship's spirit fly on its own to the temple. Yaidev would not leave her beloved vessel on this world; she had spent years attuning it to her mind.

When she had almost reached the bone-white structure reaching up from the sands, she could see the fiery glow of the Avatar in the distance, likely still on the battlefield, searching for more enemies to destroy. Even now the Pathfinder could fell his rage burning in her blood and mind, and it gave her strength, the tiredness that had started to beset her muscles now washed away. Finally she stepped upon the white floor.

"Pathfinder Yaidev!"

She lifted her head as she heard the familiar voice of her old Exarch. "Exarch Cadaith, I am pleased you have survived."

"As am I, to see you still among the living." He told her as he descended down the stairway leading up to the first floor. "We've been told you had not survived your encounter with the Necrontyr."

For the time being it would be better to keep the truth for herself; right now she needed to evacuate her people. "I was merely thrown off by jetbike and have spent much time unconscious after that." She hastily explained.

"A Wild Rider taken off her bike? Your clan should better not hear of that."

"I'm no longer part of the Stormriders, I haven't been for centuries. But we have other concerns." Yaidev told him. "The Inquisitor has killed Arhainceyl and his council; all I could do was to secure their Spirit Stones…"

Cadaith however interrupted her. "How could this have happened?"

She was growing annoyed, and Khaine's fire was not improving her mood. "He had a Souless One with him, and now he has ordered an orbital bombardment upon our temple. If we do not return to the webway immediately what remains of the warhost will soon burn in the coming firestorm."

He wasted no more time; he had no reason to mistrust the Pathfinder's words, and so did not question her. "I'll inform the Warlocks and Exarchs." Cadaith replied immediately. "My Reapers and the Guardians will assist you in gathering the Spirit Stones of our fallen; you better make haste, Pathfinder."

Grateful she nodded and ran off to the battlefield. The first corpses of the Necrontyr lay just in front of the temple's stairs, Flayed Ones, who had apparently emerged right here only to be torn to pieces by the Dark Reapers and the Grav Platform-mounted heavy weapons of the Defender Guardians. Just when she'd reached the first of the fallen Eldar, the Nightwings, jetbikes and only one of the two Illum Zars flew over her head. She saw the Aspect Warriors as well, though they would take longer to reach the webway gate, which was hidden beneath several cliff overhangs very close to the temple itself. Yaidev gathered one Spirit Stone after the other, grief seizing her heart at the number of fallen brothers and sisters. Arhainceyl; how could you have misled them so? Did she really present such a danger? Quickly she banished the thought, and returned to focus on her dreaded duty. She forced herself not to count, as a tear slowly ran from one of her eyes, only to be stopped by her mask, covering her nose and mouth.

The Hawks were the next to pass her, a few minutes before the other Aspects, who had to walk reached her, many carrying the wounded, others holding bright glowing Spirit Stones in their grasp. None paid very much attention to her or the Reapers and Guardians, wandering among the dead. Yaidev wondered what had happened to her friends of old; Elowyn, Talranis…Naverhan? Did they live, or were they among the wounded? Or had she already collected their gems without knowing?

It was only moments later when her sharp eyes spotted another Ranger. Selendir. He had yet survived and he was carrying a Swooping Hawk, who seemed lifeless, her feet dragging through the sand. She ran towards them, and his silver eyes displayed disbelieve and utter surprise. "Pathfinder Yaidev." He breathed. "How can this be?"

"A tale I shall share with you once we're all safe. There is much I'd like to discuss."

"Of course, of course." He replied, still somewhat stunned. "I have already gathered every Spirit Stone I could find, though the warriors have already gathered most themselves."

"Then we have them all secured?"

He nodded, readjusting his hold on the Swopping Hawk. "All of our fallen that lie behind me in the sands have been taken."

"Well done." She commended him. "Come, there is little time left, and I will help you with your burden." With the Hawk carried between them, they rushed back, following the other warriors. Only the Avatar of Khaine did not leave the battlefield. He placed himself in front of the temple, watching the plateau vigilantly, the sword in one hand, the tip touching to ground between his feet. Already the sand had turned to glass around him, shimmering in the bronze moonlight. He remained there, unmoving like the statue he'd been for millennia, guarding the temple, as the Eldar around him retreated. The two outcasts were among the last to pass him, and one of the few remaining Warlocks welcomed them.

"Pathfinder, Exarch Cadaith has told was has happened to Farseer Arhainceyl."

She briefly bowed her head. "Honored seer, I'd be happy to enlighten about tonight's events, but I'd rather wait until we're safe within the webway."

"Certainly." He thankfully agreed. "It is strange that not even Arhainceyl has foreseen this."

"Even you didn't see it?" Yaidev asked a little bit puzzled at the apparent incompetence.

He shook his head. "The Farseer had assigned roles to each of us; everyone not in his council was ordered to focus on the battle against the Necrontyr to guide and warn our warriors. Even together we had great difficulty examining the quickly changing threats, so none of us looked at what awaited us in the aftermath, not when Arhainceyl himself had assigned himself to that duty." Yaidev had half a mind to leave the Farseer's soul here to burn, but subdued her anger as the Warlock continued. "While you were on the battlefield your craft has arrived, and I suggest you bring it to the webway. The hangers of the Istaur will harbor it until we've reached Saim-Hann."

"My thanks, Warlock."

"What about the Avatar?" Selendir interjected quickly, stopping Yaidev who had planned to get going again.

"He sees himself as the Guardian of Shemash-Iaer; he will remain here, and watch over this temple until his fires die, or there are no more enemies to vanquish." The Warlock explained to him.

"We cannot take him with us?"

The seer sighed. "Had the Farseer not awoken him, he would have already been secured, but now it is impossible I'm afraid."

"Regrettable." Yaidev noted curtly; they had no time to stand around and talk. "Selendir, you can take our sister on your own to the transporter?"

"Of course, Pathfinder. Get your ship, and we'll meet on the Istaur." Once more she nodded and ran off, pass the pillars to her left; she had no doubt that the Inquisition's guns were already warming up. Her own ship was just outside, a slender and elegant craft, like all things the Eldar designed, but small, providing living space for only a handful of travellers. Its wings and stabilizers looked more like fins, the wraithbone currently colored in shades of green. She touched upon the ship and closer to the front, an oval hatched opened silently, warm, yet dim light streaming out of it. Yaidev practically jumped inside, went left into the cockpit, a semi-oval room with a large front window, giving the pilot approximately a 190° look outside. Swiftly she took the pilot seat, activating the controls in front of her. The wraithbone immediately reacted to her touch. Almost transparent displays appeared on the window, conveying technical information to her. Usually during long trips she would simply input a set course, but now she needed to fly manually.

With making no more sound than the wind itself, the craft took off and Yaidev brought it around to head straight to the portal. She flew over the temple to the cliffs, which were basically the foothill of the mountains, looming east of her current location into the sky. Beneath her Wave Serpents, in design similar to the Falcons or Illum Zars, transported the Eldar back to the webway. She followed the path that was snaking around the rocks and cliffs, lowering her ship, until she flew just beneath the overhangs. They reached so far across the natural pathways that almost no light reached the ground here. Minutes later a wall, a dead end came in sight, and what seemed to be a strangely shaped rock formation, formed a usually inconspicuous archway, one would only spot when actively searching for it. Now however the hidden webway portal had been activated and a disc of colorful light hovered in the arch's embrace. Wave Serpents flew through it, disappearing behind the bright veil and Yaidev followed them. For less than a second she was blinded by a bright flash, before she found herself in the glowing tunnels of the Labyrinthine Dimension, the walls shimmering golden in warm light. The tunnel soon grew larger, large enough for the cruiser, the Istaur, a larger vessel to carry the Eldar forces, though capable of going into battle itself if needed. The Pathfinder allowed herself a sigh of relief, as she had made it to safety, leaning back in her form fitted seat, as she headed for the Istaur's hangers.

…

Only minutes after Yaidev had passed the webway portal did the Warlocks close it, likely forever. After all, there was nothing left on Petra, or at least soon would be. Still the Avatar stood watch over the temple, stoic and unmoving, even as the first red lights appeared in the night sky, nor did he flinch as the guns of the two Inquisitorial vessels rained fire upon him, and the structure behind him was reduced to debris and ash.

"The bombardment has begun." Inquisitor Giuliano informed the team. Fifteen minutes ago another Aquila Lander had picked them up, and was now heading to the Eldar temple. No one replied, the Space Marines preparing themselves for the coming fight, checking their weapons once more, most of the Acolytes doing the same, though Jane was occupied with keeping herself calm. She was still shaken by tonight's events, and if she had been alone in her quarters right now, she would be probably in the bathroom now, throwing up. She was a simple medicae, for Emperor's sake. She had had a calm life in the Spires of Ibelin, tending to patients, earning enough to afford the rent of a small but nonetheless comfortable apartment. Cold sweat ran behind her mask, she felt a drop next to her eye, her fingers digging into her body-glove on her legs. She was not made for this, she had not been prepared for this.

"Arrival in five minutes." The pilot's voice came through the speaker, and Jane felt a spark rushing through her spine, making her straighten up. She barely noticed Seth, who sat to her left, looking at her, his expression though still hidden by the mask.

"Nothing but the Avatar itself could have survived the firestorm. Acolytes, kept your distance; the fire of this alien creature would burn you within seconds." The Inquisitor advised them. It didn't really inspire confidence in the medicae. "Lord Averroes." The Astartes turned his head when the Inquisitor called for him. "The Avatar's heat would kill me as well, should I get to close. I suppose my sword would serve you better." Giuliano's power sword was a two-handed weapon, but the Angel Encarmine could surely wield it with one.

"I will try to return it to you, Inquisitor." Lord Averroes promised, taking the blade with his left hand.

Mere moments later, Jane felt the craft descending, and the Astartes rose, having to duck their heads somewhat; while Astartes were giants, especially in to their power armor, in the confined space of their transport, they seemed even larger, truly drawing the humans around them. The Aquila Lander stuttered, when it landed, Jane hearing a strange cracking noise, like breaking bone, even through the loud sound of the engines, which were not turned off yet; she prayed it had not come from the craft itself.

A wave of intense heat welcomed them when the hatch opened moments later, making the tight body-glove stick uncomfortably to her skin, while steam crawled along the Aquila Lander's hull, blocking Jane's view for a few second. The Astartes were the first to exit, practically rushing out, the ground cracking beneath their heavy boots, the same noise that she had heard upon landing. Warily Jane followed Seth and the others, as the air began to get clearer.

Around the temple ruins, blackened rocks darting from the sands like broken bones, the landscape was strewn with craters, while the sand had turned to glass, as smoke was rising to the sky, hiding the bronze moons behind a thick grey layer. The only source of light was a giant figure like a bonfire; Jane stared upon it and was paralyzed. This was not an alien but a demon, a humanoid figure standing there ablaze, flames licking over sharp fangs, red eyes burning with inhuman hate that threaten to turn her to ash with a mere gaze…and it seemed to be staring directly at her.

Suddenly Seth stood in front of her, blocking her view, his hands holding her by the upper arms. "Jane, look at me." Only now she noticed that he'd taken off his mask, revealing his tired looking face, glistening with sweat, as he looked at her worriedly. "Look at me."

"That…that thing…" She could only whisper, her body trembling, her sweat still cold despite the hellish heat around them.

He looked at her sternly. "A xeno abomination, nothing more, and it will suffer the same fate as any of its ilk."

"How?" It seemed impossible. That thing was only fire and metal, how could something without life be slain? At least the Necrons had looked like machines, horrifying, like something straight out of her worst nightmare, but still undoubtedly machines. This thing, this Avatar was just unnatural.

Seth smiled encouragingly, turning a little around to point at the Astartes. "Because they are the Emperor's chosen, and they will not fail him."

…

The Avatar was still an impressive creature. Despite its grievous wounds it stood upright, flames dancing over its iron body, eyes glowing with malice and rage. It was missing its left hand, while one of the two wing-like structures growing from its head had broken off, its wild mane reduced to a stubble. Most notably however the abdomen had turned ash black, the darkness seemingly spreading from there to other parts of the body; something had hit it there earlier. As the Astartes approached, it raised its flaming sword, tip pointed at the three warriors, an inhuman warcry welcoming them to battle; it was almost like an invitation to the Astartes. They walked across the glazed ground, breaking and cracking beneath each step, the molten remains of Necron imbedded into the glass, never to rise again. Of the Eldar bodies, there was nothing left.

Averroes was in front, ax in his right, sword in his left, Erasmus and Ptolemy flanking him, Bolters aimed at the Avatar. "Seems like someone has done most of the work for us." The Brazen Minotaur noted.

"Aye, but I'm certain it can give us a fine battle still." Averroes replied, activating his weapons. "Inquisitor!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Perhaps you and your Acolytes should stay away from this fight." They would only get in the way, and the Astartes could not be bothered with constantly having to protect them. Inquisitor Giuliano seemed to agree and stopped his men, remaining close to the Aquila Lander.

"Do we have a plan?" Erasmus asked.

"We destroy this abomination." The Angel Encarmine told him, and heard a chuckle from Ptolemy.

"You have a keen mind for detail, brother."

"I thought it would be to your liking, Brazen Minotaur." Ptolemy's chapter was known to prefer to meet their enemies head-on, not unlike the Angel Encarmine.

The Minotaur laughed. "And it is." He said. "Now, let us finish this thing off; this entire night I've been waiting for a true battle, and the Necrons failed to provide me one."

"Enough talk." The Doom Eagle interrupted them. "Two of our brothers have fallen already, and much xeno's blood must still flow before they are avenged." Both he and Ptolemy opened fire at the Avatar in the same moment. The rounds were designed to penetrate even the toughest armor, and they managed to penetrate the metal plates of the Avatar. Unfortunately it seemed to care very little, the rounds leaving comparatively small holes in it body, as the rounds were destroyed by the fire within the alien beast. Ptolemy fired a few round into the Avatar's head, actually managing to knock it back.

Averroes seized this opportunity and charged at their opponent. The Avatar saw him and preformed a stab, aimed to pierce through the Astartes' chest, but he leaped up, managing to land on the alien's remaining hand. He stood there for less than a second, still the heat threatened to cook his foot, though he used the hand only as a spring board of sorts, bringing him further up. With a roar, Averroes swung his weapons, now being at the same level as the Avatar's head. Both power-weapons slashed over the monster's face, leaving deep cuts in the metal. The other arm's stump came up, catching the Angel Encarmine upon his descend, and knocked him out of the air. He coughed, blood spilling over his lips, as he landed in front of the Avatar, the burning blade coming down to finish him off. Quickly he rolled to the side, the blade following as it was swung around by its wielder. More Bolter rounds hit the Avatar, and it growled, which if anything sounded a little annoyed beyond its quenchless rage. It bought Averroes however valuable seconds, as it shielded its face with its left arm, and he got back on his feet. Two rounds hit the strangely black and dead-looking abdominal region, punching out shards of metal. For the first time the Avatar gave any indication that it felt pain, hunching a little upon the impact. Whatever had fought the Avatar before them, had added a useful weak spot to be exploit.

The Angel Encarmine was about to attack this particular area, just as the alien monstrosity recovered and lifted its sword for a blow from above. Having no choice but to abandon his advance, Averroes crossed his weapons above his head, catching the descending sword of the Avatar between his blades. The ground beneath him cracked up in a circular pattern, and he was almost forced down to his knees; despite having only one arm, the xeno was still incredibly strong, and the Astartes was gritting his teeth in the effort to repel it. However he quickly realized that he could not move the blades further up, instead he tip them to his left, and leaped forth to his right. He heard the Avatar's blade crash into the glass behind him, feeling himself slipping on the smooth surface. With all his might, Averroes swung his blades, cutting deeply into the Avatar's left leg. Sparks and fire was launched towards him, momentarily blinding the Astartes.

"Brother, move!" He could hear Ptolemy shout, but already, the monster's foot caught him in the abdomen, sending him flying, almost all the way back to his brothers, as he slid the last meters. As he smacked into the glass, the pieces showered him, but didn't do more than scratching the black paintjob. Had he been more human, both the kick and the landing on his back, would have knocked the air out of his lungs, but his multi-lung allowed him to keep breathing, if a little shallow. His ax was still in his hand, but he'd lost the Inquisitor's sword somehow. As fast as he could he got back on his feet, his brothers joining him, firing rounds at the Avatar, which only slowly started to move towards them.

"We cannot kill it like this." Averroes growled angrily. "If one of you has a plan, I'm all ears."

It was Erasmus, who took a grenade from his belt, its ring colored in a bright blue. "What is this?" Ptolemy asked him, firing at the approaching Avatar with little effect; only about twenty meters separated the monster from the Astartes now.

"A special something from the Deathwatch, perhaps enough for a crippling blow." The Doom Eagle explained.

Averroes frowned behind his helmet, reading himself for his next attack. "How would that work?"

He was almost certain that Erasmus was putting on a murderous grin beneath his helmet as he spoke. "Simply make it scream."

"Gladly, brother." With that the Angel Encarmine dashed forward, the Avatar lifting its sword anew. In the very last second, he threw himself to the side, the burning blade missing him by inches; even through his power armor, he could feel the heat on his face. He rolled, came back to his feet just in front of the Avatar. Averroes swung his ax, and buried it deeply into the monster's black abdomen. The damaged metal cracked and broke, huge pieces breaking out of it, and the Avatar screamed in rage and pain. But he had stood there for too long, and felt the alien sword cutting through his armor. The blade slashed deeply into his side, burning the armor and flesh around it, the sensation seemingly rushing throughout his entire body, setting his mind aflame, and now he too screamed, pulling his ax free.

He had not noticed how the Doom Eagle had thrown the grenade, just as the Avatar had let out his deafening shout.

He did not see how the grenade scratched over the fangs, and flung through its pharynx…

He however heard the dulled sound of the explosion. As the Avatar retreated his sword, Averroes staggered away from it, one hand pressed upon his severely wounded left side. There was surprisingly little blood not just thanks to the Astartes physiology, but the cauterizing effect of the intense heat. Now he could see that the flames around the Avatar head were dead, the eye socket now empty and black, grey smoke and white steam streaming from them and its fanged mouth. Its blade pierced the through the glass in front of its feet, as it sank to its knees, screaming in anger, but weaker than before. Almost frantically it turned its blind head to all sides, using its sword like a cane to keep itself somewhat upright.

"A flash freezing grenade." Averroes whispered to himself, a little out of breath and in great pain. The Avatar sank lower, too damaged, and too weak to get back on its feet. This was his chance. With a few wavering steps, he stood next to the Eldar abomination. It was difficult, painful and immensely staining to lift the power ax above his head, even when holding it with both his hands. "To be purged." He breathed hoarsely. "That is the fate of the xenos." With a final warcry, Averroes brought the ax down, right on the Avatar's neck. The fast frozen metal had become more brittle, the blackened material cracking beneath the blow. Shards were launched in every direction, as the ax cut through the neck painfully slow. Halfway through, Averroes had no more strength to continue his work, and removed the ax. Maybe after a few deep breaths he could finish it.

Suddenly Ptolemy appeared at the other side of the cowering, strangely silent Avatar. He looked to his comrades, over the monster's neck, and Averroes saw that he had recovered the Inquisitor's sword. "Let us finish this beast together, brother." With that, he lifted the sword, and swung it at the deep wound. Once more the cracking of metal filled their ears, a final roar emerged from the Avatar's throat, before Ptolemy severed it whole. The giant's head fell to the ground first, before the body too collapsed, the fires extinguished. Only the Wailing Doom, its sword, stood still erect from the ground like a tombstone, the flames dying at the final blow as well. "And so, it is over."

Averroes managed to nod, before his world turned black. The Brazen Minotaur saw his battle-brother collapsing and swiftly stepped forth, catching him before he hit the ground. He had seen the grievous wound the Avatar had inflicted; without help, the Angle Encarmine would not survive. As swiftly as he could, Ptolemy headed back to the Inquisitor, Erasmus joining them, helping him carrying their unconscious brother. "Inquisitor!" The Minotaur shouted over the plain. "Tell your pilot to start the engines!"

The sun was emerging from behind Petra, filling the bridge of the Adrastos with bright, warm light. Nicomedo had returned to his ship, with Ship Mistress Vivian Sammael standing next to him, his armor still covered with the ashen sand, and so was the upper half of his face, while the part that had been covered by the mask was perfectly clean. Out of the window-front one could see Inquisitor Giuliano's ship, though Nicomdeo was focused on the other Inquisitor's image in front of him. He and the surviving Astartes were about to leave Petra, Lord Averroes needing treatment by an Apothecary as soon as possible.

"Thank you for your help, Giuliano."

"You're welcome, my friend, and I'm glad to see that your hunt is finally at an end." Giuliano replied.

"As am I." Nicomedo assured him. "For now I had enough of Eldar and their scheming."

"Certainly. I fear I must keep this short, Basil, my crew is just completing the final calculations; I will not have another honorable Astartes die under my command."

Nicomedo nodded. "Go then, I will stay until the fleet arrives."

"Good, see to it that each of those vile xenos is melted with the Emperor's holy fire." There was an edge to his voice now, an edge that had moved many a suspect to compliance.

The other Inquisitor smiled grimly in return. "It will be my pleasure."

Giuliano's expression softened remarkably fast, as he spoke again. "And give my regards to your Acolytes; I shall include their fallen comrades into my prayers."

"My most sincere thanks, Rafael; I'll be sure to convey your sympathies. Emperor be with you, old friend, and travel safely." Nicomedo told him.

His friend and colleague smiled. "Until we meet again, Basil, may the Emperor watch over you as well and you, Ship Mistress Sammael."

The dark skinned woman bowed respectfully her head to the Inquisitor, as the image faded. Silence fell over the bridge, the few men currently on duty, watching as Giuliano's ship began to head away from Petra, towards the empty space beyond. Both Inquisitor and Ship Mistress watched it as well, before she spoke. "How are they taking it?"

"Some better than others." Basil admitted.

"You should speak to them." She advised him. "Especially to Miss Pravin and Mr. Taylor; they're new, and likely have never lost someone in a battle before. If you want them to trust and follow you in the new mission, you have to show them that you care about their fate."

"Technically they have no choice but to obey me."

Sammael nodded, her arms folded in front of her chest. "True, it will be easier however if they want to, if they're truly committed."

"Worry not, Vivian, I will speak to them later during the ceremony." He assured her. "For now I have given them a few hours to rest; they deserve, and undoubtedly need it, as do I."

"Do you think he lied?"

Yaidev, Naverhan and Selendir had come together to discuss what had happened on Petra onboard the Istaur, the Eldar cruiser that had brought them through the webway to Petra in the first place, and had then waited in the Labyrinthine Dimension for their return. The three had gathered in the mess room, having made themselves comfortable at one of the many tables. The Ranger had met the Warp Spider upon arrival less than an hour ago, and told him about Yaidev's survival. He was more than delighted to see her again, though being a warrior had not been able to convey it with more than a small, but nonetheless sincere smile.

Yaidev had shared the events of Petra with them, how she'd escaped the Wild Riders and ended up helping the Inquisitor; her own feelings about her actions were mixed at best. "I know that Arhainceyl has deserved his death, but I wonder if I have acted rashly that perhaps I should have tried to bring the truth to the authorities of Saim-Hann."

"You're word against Arhainceyl? It would have been easy for him to twist the facts, and your testimony would have meant nothing. Besides, you did not kill him, Yaidev." Naverhan reminded her. "The only Eldar blood you've spilled was that of the riders, who were trying to dispose of you. The Farseer deserved death. When Selendir told me the truth, I could have killed him myself for what he had done; the riders of Saim-Hann have dueled and killed each other for less."

She nodded. "Sadly so; I thought I had grown beyond that kind of savagery, but it seems I was a fool to believe that."

"You forget the Inquisitor, Pathfinder." Selendir noted, speaking fot the first time. "It is clear that the Farseer had wanted to meet with him, and given that the Souless One's presence was not depended on your participation, it is possible that Arhainceyl would have died tonight either way. At least now you have your answers."

"Aye, I have, but those only bring up more questions. How could I bring Saim-Hann into a war that would destroy it, especially one on mankind's behalf?"

"A question you should reserve for the seers of the Craftworld. Like you, all we can do is speculate."

She simply nodded, agreeing with the Warp Spider, when Selendir spoke again. "Pathfinder, I apologize for my involvement. I should have never told the Farseer about your actions."

"You are not to blame, Selendir." She told him reassuringly, with a kind smile. "Arhainceyl would have come after the Rangers and me even if you hadn't reported to him. You are young and new on the Path of the Outcast; you will learn in time to trust more in your judgments and less in the predictions of the seers. Take what has happened as a lesson, and learn from it."

The young Ranger seemed relieved, his body languages relaxing. "I shall, Yaidev."

"I wonder if our mission was worth it." Naverhan wondered aloud, his expression grim. "I don't even know what exactly we retrieved from that place."

His confession surprised the outcast, who turned back to him. "You don't? How can that be?"

"We are warriors, Yaidev. We were told where to go and what to kill. I'm certain our Exarch knows but he didn't share such knowledge with us."

"You're Exarch is a curious one." She noted with a frown. "Have you not wondered how an Avatar came to a temple used before our Fall, even though the Avatars only came into existence after our Empire had crumbled?"

"I was otherwise occupied." He replied dryly.

"Long ago there was a small Craftworld, Shemash-Iaer, which had been horribly damaged by the events of the Fall. For a few centuries they survived, besieged constantly by aliens and demons. Finally when the end was near, they decided to hide the souls of their dead and anything else of value someplace safer. They stored it in the ancient temple of Petra, leaving clues of the location on an uninhabited Maiden World, shortly before they were annihilated."

"The same world the Farseer met the Inquisitor, was it not?"

"Indeed, Selendir. Arhainceyl came here to secure thousands of our dead, the Avatar and whatever else our siblings of Shemash-Iaer have left for us to find. Selendir, do you know how much has been secured?"

"I know the Spirit Stones had priority and all of them are now being brought to Saim-Hann." The Ranger recalled. "Several suits of Aspect Armor and weapons as well, scriptures and vehicles, though I'm not certain of the number we could save."

"I dread to think what would have happened, had we left all those Spirit Stones behind." All of them shuddered at the thought, being well aware what happened when such a gem with a soul was broken. As the silence continued, Yaidev rose. "I suppose it is time I'll meet with the Warlock."

"Will you tell him everything?" Naverhan asked her.

"I'm not certain." She answered him truthfully. "Though for the future of Saim-Hann it would probably be for the best if I were to share it all." Yaidev had to be certain of her own involvement in Saim-Hann's fate, and she had not forgotten what the Farseer had told Inquisitor Nicomedo; she wanted to know how a human such as him could bring salvation for thousands of Eldar.

"We command their souls to our undying Lord, the Emperor of Mankind." The Acolytes, the Ship Mistress and her highest officers had gathered in the Adrastos' chapel that afternoon, Nicomedo holding the ceremony himself. After all, two of his operatives had died last night. The chapel itself was rather small, the walls painted white, the high ceiling blue as the sky, and only lit by candles on this occasion. Their flames were reflected in stain glass windows, showing saints of the Imperium, and just behind the altar, one depicted the Emperor himself on the golden throne. The gold brought certain warmth to the room, a truly comforting light. All heads were lowered in silent commemoration, as the Inquisitor continued, he himself in front of the altar, facing both the double headed eagle standing upon it and the Emperor's image. "May they find peace at His side, in eternity, as we shall never forget their deeds in life; never did they fail their duty to Him."

"Never shall we fail Him." The gathering answered him as one.

"Honorable did they die in His service."

"As shall we die for Him." They answered.

"Only in death does duty end." Nicomedo reminded them all. "Eugene Durai, Djamila Vega; you have fulfilled yours, but we not ours yet."

"We shall join you once our duty is completed." It was a promise and a certainty, and it felt all too real in this moment.

"Our service continues yet; the Emperor protects."

"The Emperor protects." They spoke, making the sign of the Aquila, finishing the ceremony.

Inquisitor Nicomedo turned around to look at the assembly, his face showing his sorrow plainly to them. He hated that Durai and Vega had die, he hated that he hadn't been there. It was impossible to tell if he could have changed anything, but emotions were seldom rational. "I'd like to talk with my Acolytes in private."

Ship Mistress Sammael nodded. "Of course, Basil." With another nod she ordered her officers to follow her, and left the chapel. The door shut behind them, and Nicomedo sat down on one of the front benches, back to the altar to look at his operatives, who one by one sat down as well. Mandrake looked expectantly, Brennan and Seth looked grim, Taylor seemed sorrow-stricken, while Jane appeared to be incredibly shaken by last night's events, her expression blank, but at the same time close to tears.

"I know this loss weighs heavy on you all, and believe me when I tell you that it weighs heavy on me as well. I planned this mission, and as their employing Inquisitor I too am responsible for what has happened. I do not regret my decisions though." He told them plainly, seeing Seth eyes twitch at his words. "We all know the danger we're in as servants of the Imperium, as members of the Inquisition; that some of us die should come as no surprise. Maybe next time it is our turn. All we can do until then is to perform our duty, as best as we can, so that the Emperor may look upon us with pride, and we can look back without regret. Until the Fleet arrives to destroy Petra once and for all, you all may spent your time as you wish; soon enough we'll be on our next mission. You're dismissed."

None of them spoke, as one by one they rose. Mandrake was the first to leave without looking back, Brennan and Talyor headed for the door as well, but remained there, waiting for the other two. Seth had an arm around Jane's shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Jane; a word please." Nicomedo then said, approaching her. Seth removed his arm, yet stayed at her side, while she looked questioning at her employer. "You have not spoken a word since your return to the Adrastos."

"Apologies, sir." Her voice was a little hoarse, and barely more than a whisper. "Last night was just…just..."

"As a medicae you must have experience with death."

A nod. "I do, Milord, but it is not their deaths alone that affect me so." Jane swallowed hard. "In all my life my mind couldn't have even conceived something like the xenos in those catacombs. I saw them tearing Inquisitor Giuliano's Acolytes to shreds, and watched as that thing tore Durai into pieces…and when they began to rise around us as we fled…" She broke off, her body stiff and shivering, her eyes shut tightly, tears forming at the memory.

Nicomedo sighed and gently put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now you see why so much knowledge is kept from the citizens of the Emperor's Imperium." He spoke to her with a fatherly voice. "Many would despair at the revelation of the horrors this galaxy is home to, and they are better off not knowing. But we are among the few who do, we are among those who must carry this burden so we can protect humanity from all that lurks out there. It is a terrible privilege that we must endure, and given time you will learn to cope, as we all have. I sadly cannot tell you how, it is a lesson you must learn on your own. Perhaps it will comfort you to know that you are not alone; stay with the others for now, it would be unwise to isolate yourself in such a state. Seth." The addressed Acolyte tore is gaze of the medicae and looked at Nicomedo. "Keep an eye on her for me."

The former Storm Trooper seemed pleased. "Of course, sir." When the Inquisitors didn't speak anymore and dismissed them anew with a simple nod, he once more put his arm around her shoulder and guided her to the others. All three men looked concerned at their medicae, and Nicomdeo knew that she was in good hands.

After the door had closed behind them he turned back to the stain glass window, depicting the Emperor. Ever since they had parted from the Pathfinder, his thoughts turned often to what the Farseer had told him. He simply couldn't conceive how he would help the Eldar. "In your efforts to keep your Imperium safe, you will spare countless Eldar, preventing their annihilation." Would the xenos trick him, or would it merely be a consequence of future actions he would not consider. One thing Nicomedo knew for certain was that he would never knowingly betray the Emperor. Trusting that Pathfinder had been too close to the edge for his liking already, though he had been pleased and grateful that she had kept her word. Remarkable, if he thought about it; most Eldar would have tried to kill him. The Inquisitor wondered for a while what had turned the Arhainceyl and Yaidev against each other that they would seek each other's death so fiercely. The Pathfinder of course had told him that Arhainceyl had tried to kill her and killed her brethren in the process, but whether it was the truth, he could not tell and if so, what had moved the Farseer to take such drastic actions? Yaidev had mentioned the premature awakening of the Necrons as a motivation, yet for some reason Nicomedo had come to doubt it. It had likely something to do with the mentioned Craftworld Saim-Hann, the only word the Inquisitor had been able to make out during the xenos' conversation. There had been more behind the Farseer's action, but Nicomedo was certain he would never find out, and so decided to let the subject rest. Such infightings were not his concern; he should be grateful that he had been able to benefit from them, which was all that mattered.

One by one he put out the candles until only a dim shimmer from under the door remained. Nicomedo left the chapel and returned to his chamber, in dire need of rest. With all that was occupying his mind it would have usually been difficult to find sleep, but his exhaustion was greater, and indeed a thankfully dreamless sleep found him as soon as he had lain down.

Meanwhile in the canteen a few decks lower, Seth, Taylor, Brennan and Jane silently raised their glasses in honor of their fallen comrades.

The Tower of Travellers loomed over most of Saim-Hann's domes and numerous other towers as a tall, sectioned, white structure, harbor for several hundred vessels at a time, and was located close to the Craftworld's own webway portal, an empty archway that would only come to life when a ship came or left. And indeed, a disc of shimmering light grew in its embrace one morning, the Istaur emerging from the webway. Gracefully the slender vessel flew towards the tower, the many smaller vessels above Saim-Hann evading to let the warship pass. On one of the tower's many levels that were exclusively reserved for the Craftworld's own fleet, the Istaur then anchored, as the portal closed again.

It had been years since the last time Yaidev had set foot on Saim-Hann, and it was still as beautiful as she remembered. The white, arching structures of the wraithbone, like high growing, slender trees that had merged with each other with their branches far above their heads, the transparent ceilings between those branches, giving view to the stars and a green nebular with lines of red and yellow running through it. Banners of the Craftworld and the individual Wild Rider clans, which made up the majority of Saim-Hann's population, bordered this platform like they did all the others, welcoming the Eldar, who berthed with their ships at the Tower of Travellers. Lightstones casted warm light upon the scene, imbedded into the wraithbone branches, and one could have almost forgotten that it was not a sun that illuminated this place.

There was no crowd welcoming the warriors, but a group of four seer in the colors of Saim-Hann, as well as two Autarchs, who were waiting at the dock, when Yaidev together with the Warlock left the Istaur. They respectfully bowed, while behind them the warriors emerged from the ship, most returning straight to their shrines, others bringing their wounded to a group of healers, who had been waiting a few paces behind the seers and Autarchs.

"Illustrious Farseers, honored Autarchs." The Warlock spoke as he lifted his head again. "With ill news we return from Petra."

"Such come as little surprise, young Warlock." One of the Farseers spoke mildly. "Death was always upon this venture, and as we see, even Arhainceyl as paid the prize for his folly."

"We will discuss the matter further in the Halls of the Seers." Another spoke. "Pathfinder, is there anything you wish to contribute?"

"There is much I wish to convey, Farseer, and I was there when Farseer Arhainceyl fell."

"Then you shall join us, child." Child; she had spent centuries as an outcast alone, seen and experienced much in that time out there in the galaxy. She was hardly a child, but such was a Farseer's perception. Yaidev merely nodded in responds and she followed the seers to their halls.

…

The Halls of Seers looked remarkably like a temple within a great garden. Three stairways, led to the atrium of the several storey high, oblong building, with a great dome, serving as the roof of the far side section, while evenly distributed towers flanked the entire structures like a dozen minarets. From her time as a seer, Yaidev knew they held chambers reserved primarily for meditation and study, while some seers actually lived there.

Some time ago the Pathfinder had left the council of Farseers and Autarchs, having shared her story of the events on Petra. She had told them everything truthfully, with some regret for what she'd done, and now she waited as they discussed the matter in private. Yaidev stood at a balustrade, right to one of the staircases, looking about her, enjoying the sight of the ever green garden. Colorful birds sung in the trees, their leaves in all shades of green. Shrubbery and flowers lines the pathways, insects buzzing between them. After the ashen desert, this was truly a paradise. The main road, leading directly to the Hall of Seers was lines by numerous statues, Farseers who had led Saim-Hann to glory millennia ago. They were so perfectly crafted that it looked as if they would come to life at any given movement, or that their long cloaks would move in the artificial wind of the dome. Their faces and helmets looked upon any, who would approach the Hall.

Almost an hour had passed before Yaidev heard soft footsteps behind her, and when she turned around she saw Farseer Methran'el, her former mentor, approach her. His long robes matched the colors of Saim-Hann in red, white and green, while his dark brown hair was tied into a high ponytail. At his side was his Gyrinx, a great cat with thick ginger fur, and ears like a lynx. Its eyes were bright blue and it regarded the Pathfinder curiously. "Yaidev, it has been some time since last we've met."

She bowed her head politely, a warm smile on her lips. "Indeed it has, Farseer Methran'el, though I wish it was under different circumstances."

He nodded in agreement. "As do I, but there is nothing we can change about that I'm afraid."

"What is council's opinion on the events on Petra?" Yaidev felt somewhat tense, the sensation now at its most prominent as she awaited his answer.

There was no immediate response. He walked to the balustrade, letting his hands rest upon it and looked across the garden, before he answered. "Your guild is lessened by the fact that Arhainceyl has tried to kill you, and has kept such an important prophecy to himself. As you may know, he had not many friends among the seers and while we decided to postpone the retrieval of Shemash-Iaer's artifacts, he would not listen to our council; for a Farseer he could be surprisingly impatient at times."

The Pathfinder relaxed somewhat at this, and allowed herself to take a deep breath. Still, what was to become of her? "So what is your verdict?"

Methran'el turned around to face her once more, his expression unreadable. "The council will not punish you for your action, especially when you take under consideration that your temporary alliance with the Inquisitor has saved the survivors of the warhost. Had he not told you of the incoming bombardment or sent the Astartes to sabotage the Necrontyr, none would have returned to Saim-Hann, all would have been lost, and so we are actually a little grateful for what you have done." He smiled. "But do not expect to have a Farseer call upon your services for some time."

"I suppose I can live with that." She replied somewhat dryly, though relived that she would not face punishment. "What about Arhainceyl's prophecy and my alleged involvement?"

"We will search the future for the event that Arhainceyl has stumbled upon. If we find it, we might be able to prevent it from ever happening. In the meantime, we'd like you to remain on Saim-Hann; while we dislike having someone with such an untamed mind on the Craftworld for an extended time, you should stay for now, until we're certain of your role." His eyes narrowed and he studied her closely. "Hypothetically; if your death turns out to be the only way to prevent Saim-Hann's demise, would you be willing to die for it?"

Yaidev knew that she shouldn't be surprised by his question, and frankly, she'd asked herself the same during their return from Petra. "When I decided to remain an Outcast, I promised I would return to Saim-Hann in times of need. If my death would spare it, than I will give my life for it."

Once more he nodded, the warm smile having returned to his lips. "That is all I needed to hear, Yaidev."

…

Half a week passed before Yaidev was summoned to the Halls of Seers. Much of the interim time the Pathfinder had spent wandering the Craftworld, seeking out friends she'd left behind centuries ago. To her relief, both Talranis and Elowyn had survived, though both were still treated by the healers. It was as always strange and a little wistful, especially her meeting with Derahnim, who she knew since the very first Path she'd taken, and was currently a scholar. More than once Yaidev had brought him tomes and other mediums of their kin from her travels that previously had been lost for millennia. Despite their long lasting friendship however, she neglected to tell him of Arhainceyl's prophecy, still her uneasiness was not lost to him. Instead she'd shared with him the official story of how the Necrontyr emerged to defend their generator's from the Eldar Ranger; the Farseers had decided that it would be for the best, at least for the time being that the truth and the prophecy were to remain a secret until more of Saim-Hann's potential doom was found out.

"Why don't you tell me what plagues your mind?" The black haired Eldar asked, his golden, hawk-like eyes regarding her with some concern as they wandered through the Repository of Shoreless Knowledge, a great library of Saim-Hann; it's great, several storey high halls of white and sand-colored wraithbone were in their architecture not unlike human cathedrals, but illuminated by warm light, red and green banners adoring a few otherwise empty walls, while on junctions sculptures depicting historic and mythical events had been placed.

"My fellow Outcasts, Derahnim." Yaidev answered truthfully. "I led them to their deaths."

"They knew of the danger, and it had been their decision to follow you. Do not blame yourself for their fate."

She bit her lower lip; without her, Arhainceyl would not have sent out the Wild Riders of his clan to kill her, without her they might have survived, but of course Derahnim couldn't know this, not yet. "I cannot help it." Yaidev simply told him. "Such feelings are not the result of rational thinking, after all."

"True enough." For a while he remained silent, before he confessed. "I know there is something else, and I wonder why you will not tell me."

Her responding smile was somewhat cheerless. "I must be an open book for you."

"I suppose I know you well enough; is there a reason why you won't speak?"

She sighed. "There were certain incidents on Petra the Farseers have advised not to share until their own enquiry is finished. Much is at stake and so, even though I'd like nothing better than to tell you, I must keep what I know for myself for now." Yaidev explained to him as they stop at a statue showing the Eldar god Kurnous, Lord of the Hunt, with his hounds and a hawk on his shoulder. "Perhaps another time, my friend."

Derahnim was a little disappointed but nodded acceptingly nonetheless. "In that case I shall be patient."

For some time the two Eldar simply beheld the beautifully crafted statue in front of them, neither speaking a word, before their acute senses picked up soft footsteps behind them. When they turned around they saw a seer approaching them, apparently in a hurry. According to his simple white robe with a red trim, he was a novice of the seer's Path, and bowed politely when he reached them. "Pathfinder Yaidev, I am here to escort you to the Halls of the Seers; if you would follow me."

Derahnim placed a hand on her shoulder, and smiled encouragingly. "Fear not, my friend."

She returned his smile and nodded, placing one of her hands on his shoulder as well. "Elith, Derahnim; until we meet again."

"Elith, Yaidev." He replied. "Save travels; may Cegorach smile kindly upon you."

…

The Pathfinder felt like an accused as she stepped into the council chamber in the Halls of the Seers. Elevated, the Farseers of Saim-Hann sat around her in a semi-circle on wine-red seat cushions, their expressions stern, some troubled. The hall itself was sparsely decorated, in fact the only decorations were the countless runes, covering the white walls, and the pillar-like structure along the walls that once they reached the dome sprouted branches and wraithbone leaves; it almost gave the impression that the hall was in fact nothing but a clearing in a forest, had it not been for the bright color of the wraithbone and the majority of lightstones, imitating the light of a sun. The only true color came from a few green lightstones at the top of the pillars, actually bathing the leaf-structures in green light.

"Pathfinder Yaidev." Farseer Sarhandir was one of the oldest, most experienced seer's of Saim-Hann, and one could hear in his voice the authority he held. "For cycles now have we searched for the future Arhainceyl had glimpsed. It grieves me to say that he spoke the truth, for the most part."

"The most part, honored Farseer?" All eyes rested on her, while she stood in the hall's center, and she paled at Sarhandir's words.

He nodded. "War is coming for Saim-Hann, many years will pass until then but it will come. We've searched the future for a way to avoid it, but all strings lead to this event; it is sadly a conflict we cannot avoid, no matter what we may try." No, this could not be true, Yaidev thought, her throat tightening, her stomach twisting. "However, while devastating, the war might not be the end for our Craftworld; there is the possibility Saim-Hann yet survives it."

"What about my part in that tragedy?" She had been almost too afraid to ask, but if the conflict was truly unavoidable, she could at least not be the cause; a slightly heartening thought.

"Your involvement is not yet entirely certain." Methran'el confessed. "As the future is constantly shifting, we might not even find out before the war is upon us. However rest assured that you will not bring this horror upon us; as far as we've been able to descry, you're going to act as a messenger of sorts. Your actions beyond that are lost in the tangled web of lives that will cross in the war."

"On that matter, we've seen that your thread will once more meet that of the Inquisitor you've work with on Petra." Sarhandir added, regarding her thoughtfully.

"He too is involved in the war?" Was this what Arhainceyl had meant, when he'd told the human that he would save many of her kin?

The Farseer nodded. "This war will be fought against a mutual enemy of Eldar and mon-keigh." Sarhandir told her. "Our forces will join out of necessity, for none will be victorious without the other."

"It is troubling however that we cannot see what enemy we'll be facing." Methran'el further elaborated, with a hint of his apprehensiveness in his voice. "A shadow clouds much of the future beyond the establishment of the alliance, should it be established; even it is merely one of countless possibilities."

Yaidev took a deep breath. "What do you wish me to do?"

The answer admittedly surprised her. "Continue your journey and your life as an outcast. You have sworn to come whenever Saim-Hann is in need of your help." Her former mentor told her

"Keep this promise; that is all we ask of you, Pathfinder."

"I never break a promise, honored Farseers." Yaidev spoke, glad that strength and conviction had returned to her voice. "One last question, if you don't mind."

Methran'el smiled mildly. "Ask, child."

"Why did Arhainceyl believe I would bring death upon Saim-Hann?"

There was a pause before he answered her. "We believe he only saw what the survivors, if there are going to be survivors, will call you." The Farseer leaned back, as if he had to brace himself for what was he about to say. "Angau Saim-Hannesh."

Yaidev flinched. "Why?" Her voice was now again weaker than she would have liked.

There was something compassionate in Sarhandir's eyes as he explicated. "Because they will seek someone to blame for the tragedy, and who better than the outcast, who called them to war in the first place?"

…

It felt good to leave the council chamber again, the artificial breeze welcoming Yaidev as it searched its way through the building. In its architecture, the Halls of the Seers were similar to that of the Repository of Shoreless Knowledge, minus the statues. They were also emptier. Few Eldar wandered the halls, some talking to each other in low voices as every sound was amplified by the tall and hollow architecture. Yaidev's thoughts were still in turmoil, and she felt the concerned glares of the seers around her as she passed them. An outcast's mind was a dangerous thing, unbound or controlled by the Paths, its wildness attracting dark entities of the warp, which was why outcasts tended not to stay long on a Craftworld. Just another reason to leave as soon as possible. The stars were already calling for her again, and Yaidev had much to think about. A few months of travelling alone would certainly do her some good.

She left the hall, and went to the balustrade, her eyes taking in the gardens once more. Angau Saim-Hannesh, doom of Saim-Hann. Her fists clenched at the thought; let them call her whatever they wanted. While she had abandoned the Paths, she would never abandon her people, she had promised to stand by them. Yaidev looked up at the nebular, still visible beyond the transparent roof of the dome, the songs of birds reaching her ears, calming, appeasing. One of her hands touched upon the Spirit Stone around her neck, the green gem cool to the touch, and her mind was made up; the coming war would not be the end, and she would do whatever was in her power to save Saim-Hann.

The End

At last, my first story has been finished. I'd like to thank everyone who faved, followed or reviewed my work. I hoped you've enjoyed Hunted, and move on with me to Victoria Primus, which is set twenty years later, when Inquisitor Nicomedo and his Acolytes, along with a Deathwatch Kill-Team face a Genestealer infestation and must stand against the coming Hive-Fleet. Now with this story done I have more time to continue it, and hope to publish the 11th chapter within in a month or so; there is a Hive Tyrant that needs to be killed, and the final battle begins.

Yaidev's story meanwhile will be told in Pathfinder, the first two chapters are already out, and as of now take place centuries before both Hunted and Victoria Primus. Currently she's with the Dark Reapers, and will fight her first battle in the next chapter.

The war the Farseers have foreseen will be the subject of the story Signum, which I will start writing once I'm finished with Pathfinder. A brief synopsis can be found on my profile page.

Best to you all, may the Emperor protect

-Kate