Alphasis, Magog's hive city.
Just after contact with the being.
Caerian found himself back in the strategy room, the holographic table projecting multiple battlefronts that flickered between red and amber. The Inquisition's presence still loomed over the capital, limiting their movements, but for the first time in weeks, there was a glimmer of possibility.
"So, did we confirm that he responded?" one of his officers asked, looking at the
newly received data.
Caerian nodded, crossing his arms as his eyes followed the projected route from the mountains.
"Yes. There were no threats, no explicit conditions. Just careful words. But he came. That says a lot."
The officer hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"And you're sure that… that thing is what we should ally ourselves with?"
"No," Caerian replied frankly. "But I'm not sure we have any other option either. Do you see any other force capable of stopping what Nurgle has unleashed upon us?"
Silence was a sufficient response.
The governor sighed and turned to the window. From there, he could see the eternal gloom that covered the horizon, marred by the warp storms already licking at the edges of his defenses. Time was running out.
"Get the diplomatic wing ready. We want it ready for her arrival," he finally said, with a mixture of determination and caution.
"Do you have a name?" the officer asked.
Caerian shook his head.
—Just rumors. Ancient ones. Echoes of something buried. But if those myths were real… then perhaps this world has one last card to play.
Emil led the group, his face marked by fatigue. Behind him walked the remaining soldiers from whom he had learned the names of their most trusted men: Rodrik, a veteran of few words whose hard gaze revealed the constant distrust he carried; and Vendria, the only woman among us, whose eyes reflected the harshness of battle without losing the tenderness she once had. At the end of the group, Aaron, the quietest of all, walked with his head down, as if the recent deaths of his comrades had left him aimless.
The ruins of Runt Mountain lay behind us, like a bad dream from which we were finally awakened. The fortress of rock and metal, where we had fought with all our might to survive, was now nothing more than a scar on the landscape. Many of those who had left with them were gone. The battle against the creatures of chaos, the traps, and the reality distortions that plagued the interior of the catacombs had taken a heavy toll. Blood still stained the earth where we left Dorian. They said nothing. No one asked about him. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn't care.
We walked in silence, among the carnivorous bushes that stirred under our boots. Magog was alive, breathing violently. The hills were changing shape, the trees turning to look at each other as if sharing secrets. The air was thick, and not just with rot. It was the prelude to something bigger, darker.
"We'll be in Kadamtu before nightfall," Emil said, consulting his auspex, which didn't seem to have survived the adventure. "If the ground doesn't move again."
Rodrik limped, his armor stained with a dried acid that had once been demon blood. Markin and Aaron carried the body of a dead comrade. Vendria hadn't said a word since the last ambush.
"Do you know they're watching us?" Thariel whispered inside my mind. "This world feels your presence. It doesn't understand what you are yet... but it will."
In the distance, the skies curved like an open wound. It was Magog... slipping into the Warp. The Hadex Anomaly hadn't finished birthing from what he remembered from history, but the birth might have begun.
"And Kadamtu?" I asked quietly, just to myself.
"A desperate fortress," Thariel replied. "It won't last. But it will serve us well."
-So that.
—To decide. Whether this world deserves to be saved... or condemned.
"Come on, we need to be ready for what's coming. And we can't afford to waste any more time," Emil said, interrupting my thoughts.
The sound of his voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Yes, something has changed," Thariel murmured in my mind. "It's only a matter of time before everything falls apart."
I saw the soldiers, as if by reflex, preparing themselves, although their faces no longer showed the same hope they had before. They were ready, but not as confident.
The earth trembled beneath our feet. Not like before, not like the sickly throbbing of the planet. This time it was different: orderly, heavy, mechanical.
"Clay to the east!" Markin shouted, raising his laser rifle.
We all stopped. Even Emil. Vendria raised her rudimentary binoculars and fell silent. She didn't need to look through them to know what was coming.
A dirty, scattered Imperial column was approaching up the hill. Armored Chimeras covered in dried mud, half-torn banners waving in resignation, and a Sentinel creaking as if dragging its own entrails. Blank-eyed soldiers walked alongside their transports. There were fewer of them than there should have been.
"To the throne!" Rodrik muttered. "It's Kharax's 61st. We thought they were dead!"
They weren't dead. But they were broken.
We moved quickly, and Emil raised his hand in a military salute. A thin-faced officer with a stained bandage on his forehead climbed out of one of the Chimeras and approached. He wasn't wearing a helmet. His laser pistol hung unsecured.
"Who's the officer in charge?" he growled.
"Captain Emil Vark, 9th Kadamtu Infantry," he replied. "We survived Runt."
The officer didn't even seem impressed. He looked at him like one looks at a corpse that hasn't yet realized it's dead.
"Commissar Luthien Rass," he said. "The remnants of the 61st fell back three days ago. We lost the Bresh Valley stations, supplies, and... the Captain-Major. I'm in charge now. If that means anything."
He looked at me. Not into my eyes, but at me. Something in him tensed. He'd noticed me.
—And this... civilian?
"An asset the planetary governor himself has consulted," Vendria said, without raising her voice. "She got us out alive."
The commissioner nodded without further question. But it wasn't acceptance. It was caution.
"We're going to Kadamtu," Emil said. "Are you guys going too?"
—It's the only base still connected. But it's not responding well. Interference... voices on the radio. The astropath is dead. The governor still hasn't given any clear signals. Everything seems to be a mess, and no one knows who's in charge.
The cold Magog air enveloped me as I walked toward Kadamtu Base. Emil had been silent for most of the journey, but his furtive glances toward me didn't go unnoticed. But soon, we were able to reach our destination at a moderate pace.
Kadamtu Base perched on the edge of a rocky cliff, where the rugged terrain and surrounding mountains seemed to seal the place in an unrelenting embrace. From a distance, it looked like a massive fortress of steel and stone, built on the ruins of older structures that seemed to have crumbled with time. The base's walls were thick, dark gray, and decorated with insignia of the former Imperial Guard, though worn by wind and weather.
Emil headed toward the operations center, while the rest of us stayed behind. I stopped a few steps from the command center entrance. I wasn't invited in. Two soldiers with the Magog emblem on their shoulder guards stood in front of the door, blocking my way with a firmness that required no words.
I remained silent, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on the threshold. I could hear the muffled murmur of voices behind the sealed door: urgent discussions, information exchanged in the haste of fear, names of lost areas, casualty counts. War waited for no ceremony.
One of the soldiers glanced at me. Not out of hostility, but rather ill-disguised nervousness. Perhaps it was the clothes I was wearing, too old and untouched for a planet under siege. Or perhaps it was my presence; something about me seemed to bother them all.
The air here was thick with tension. I could smell the burning oil, the ozone from the worn shields, and a faint but unmistakable trace of old blood beneath it.
A voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"You don't see many reinforcements with that look," someone to my left said.
She was an ashen-skinned woman, her face crisscrossed with badly healed scars, and she wore old power armor repainted in the local colors. She wore a non-commissioned officer's insignia, but her posture suggested she had survived more battles than she could count.
"I'm not a reinforcement," I replied without turning around completely.
"Of course not," she replied, crossing her arms with a tired smile. "Just a... traveler who showed up when half the planet was falling apart. Just in time. You know, one of those coincidences fate loves so much."
"What's your name?" I asked.
—Soria. Sergeant Soria. Second Home Defense Company. Or what's left of it, he added with a shrug.
There was a pause. Soria looked me up and down, as if evaluating whether it was worth continuing to talk to me. Finally, he let out a husky chuckle.
—No offense, but you're in the wrong place. No one here wants more mysteries. We have plenty of them.
—I'm not here of my own free will.
—Who is?
A side gate opened with a hydraulic squeal, and Emil stepped out, accompanied by three other officers. They were carrying data pads, active holoprojections, and the grim expressions of those who had just received bad news. He glanced at me briefly as he passed, but didn't pause. He just said:
—Soria, come with me. We need to talk about the Northern Line.
The woman nodded, gave me one last look, and disappeared behind him.