The Empress Returns

by iowaforever


2.19- Angels of Death, Part 2

Angels of Death, Part 2

The Rock shuddered as it broke out of the Warp, its escorts winking into existence soon after as the Imperial Armada descended upon Agripinaa. A small fleet of Mechanicus ships remained in orbit, trying desperately to hold off an unending onslaught of Chaos battleships, cruisers, and other twisted craft of unknown class. Beyond, a great rift had blossomed in space, the twisting currents of the Warp laid bare for all to see.

A good many soldiers would lose their sanity before the day was up if they focused on the rift. Corax, though, was unimpressed.

“Still trying to intimidate those who have fought them for centuries,” he mused, turning back to where the Lion and his bodyguards were prepping their weapons.

“The minions of Chaos are simple, with but a few tricks about them.” the Primarch of the Dark Angels replied, strapping his sword to his belt before looking to Corax. “Once we shore up the defenses of the Forge World, we can press on and perhaps roll back some of this madness.”

“Without the Empress, closing the Eye of Terror will be a might more difficult than simply killing many Traitors and moving on.”

“There are always ways to advance, Corax, even if they are not apparent at first.”

“... of course.” Corax crossed his arms as he inspected the display of the battlefield again. I am not a child that needs constant instructing, Jonson. Already the first of the Imperial fleet had engaged with the forces of Chaos, Strike Cruisers and destroyers hammering each other with massive broadsides as larger vessels held back for longer shots. The Rock continued on regardless, archaeotech weapons blasting through even the strongest of Chaos vessels as it made its way towards Agripinaa.

“The plan is simple,” the Lion said, dismissing the display of the space battle for Agripinaa proper. “The Traitors push in against the central forge, and the Mechanicus are holding as well as they can. My sons and I shall reinforce the forge and press out from there.”

“The Mechanicus might not have the resources to support an advance.” Corax replied.

“Perhaps, but we shall not be hindered. And your assistance will be appreciated.”  Corax said nothing as Jonson shifted the map to some smaller factories. “The Traitors have a number of landing zones in this area near the lesser forges, no doubt so they can repair their daemon-enhanced machines. A full assault could clear it but would waste resources, but if you lead a smaller strike to destabilize them it can slow the assault on the main forge and allow us some time to rebuild.”

“I will need all the air support you can provide,” Corax looked to Jonson. “But then I suppose you have already worked out their deployments?”

“You will have most of our close air support, for destroying those landing zones will take priority. With the Traitors on the backfoot we can continue to press against them.”

“Of course.” Corax fell silent, his gaze shifting towards his Brother Primarch. The Lion did not meet Corax’s gaze, though he did frown before speaking.

“You resent me for taking on the role of Warmaster in this battle,” Jonson said.

“Do I look like Dorn or Guilliman?” Corax countered. This seemed to throw Jonson for a moment, allowing Corax to continue. “I am not one to be flattered by titles or positions, Jonson. I truly wouldn’t care if the Empress declared you Heir Apparent tomorrow and then wandered off to some agri-world to become a farmer.”

“Ha! That would be a sight.” the Lion snorted.

“My trepidation is in placing the responsibilities of so many on the shoulders of one, especially at times such as this when we are so divided,” Corax looked back to the map. “That has not proven to be an effective strategy for the Imperium in the past, and far be it for us to indulge in the mistakes that nearly toppled Mankind.”

“The Empress has placed her trust in us,” the Lion countered. “To have any trepidation at this point is to invite the possibility of cowardice. We must take action and power as it is offered, or our enemies will exploit our weaknesses beyond our control.”

“I thought as much... once.” Corax shifted slightly before continuing. “My failures during the Heresy led me to think otherwise.” Jonson remained silent, keeping his eyes fixed on the display as Corax looked on. Finally he turned away, signalling to his fellow Dark Angels as they prepped for war.

“I must go to prepare the defense of Agripinaa,” the Lion said, moving to the first wave of Thunderhawks as Corax followed behind. “The bridge has their orders, and a new flight of ships will be ready for you soon. I trust your sons will be up to the task of disrupting the landing zones?”

“You doubt my sons, Jonson?” Corax asked.

“I doubt most everything, Corax; that is why I have succeeded where others failed.” there was a pause as the Lion stopped on the ramp of the Thunderhawk. “... Corvus... there is something in the armory at the far end of the hall. Make sure it is taken care of before you leave.”

“It is fine to say you are presenting me with a gift, Jonson,” Corax started, but the Lion waved him off.

“I have said what is needed. Now, we have a planet to save and traitors to kill.” and with that he disappeared into the hold of the Thunderhawk, Corax stepping back to give the dropship some room as it, its fellows, and their escorts took off to relieve the Forge World below. The Primarch of the Raven Guard stayed there for several minutes, as if expecting Jonson to return and apologize for being so curt.

... It has been months since you have seen Tara, and already you think like her, Corax thought before shaking his head. The Student can wait. Now, to the business of war.

Corax turned away, heading towards the armory the Lion had indicated. It was an open-air setup, flanked by several Predator tanks to give the techpriests some semblance of boundaries. One of the leading adepts spotted Corax as he approached, bowing low as the Primarch came to a stop.

“My lord,” the techpriest said. “The Lion told us that you would grace us with your presence, and has provided a gift for which you may strike down the enemy.”

“Not in so many words, but yes.” Corax nodded. The Techpriest glided back through the armory, Corax following until they stopped before a display that held two large plasma pistols. Unlike most plasma weaponry the Imperium possessed, these possessed more rounded barrels and a proportionally shorter heating coil, a more alien look that Corax had not seen in millennia.

“Relics from before the Heresy, recovered at the Lion’s order,” the techpriest said. “He noted how you were missing those pistols the Empress had gifted you, and felt that these might make for fine replacements.” Corax said nothing, reaching out to take the pistols on his hands. They were slightly heavier than his old archaeotech pistols, but still far lighter than any other gun he had seen since he had lost those weapons. He turned the weapons in his hands, just enough to get used to their weight before clamping them to his belt.

“Send my compliments to the Lion, should you encounter him again before I do,” Corax replied.

“I will do as you ask, my lord,” The techpriest bowed again before wandering off through the armory, Corax turning and heading back into the hangar as a new flight of Thunderhawks was prepped. The Rock shuddered from some kind of impact, a few Chapter Serfs stumbling as they brought more supplies to the Astartes.

Corax flipped on his vox. “Bridge? What is the situation?”

“We are taking fire from the enemy fleet, my lord,” came the response. “It is a minor inconvenience, nothing more, but...” Corax waited but got no response.

“But...?”

“... My lord Jonson did not say anything about a second fleet attacking the traitors. They bear the colors of Fenris.” Space Wolves? The Lion will not be pleased with that.

“Have you tried making contact with them?” Corax asked.

“They are ignoring all hails at this point, but as they remain focused on the enemy we have not taken their actions as hostile. Shall we try again?” Corax paused, mulling over the best actions to take... especially considering the general mistrust between the Dark Angels and the Space Wolves.

“... No. If I encounter the Sons of Russ, I will handle diplomacy.” And hopefully that will keep the Lion placated for a while. By now a collections of Veterans under Shadow Captain Cornix had assembled, slowly making their way into the Thunderhawks while the Captain awaited his Primarch.

“We are at your command, my lord,” the Shadow Captain said.

“Good.” Corax replied, starting up the ramp as Cornix slipped his helmet on. “I presume the Lion’s representatives have already detailed our mission to you?”

“Striking the Traitors’ landing zones. It is a mission my brothers have conducted many time.” a pause as Cornix took a spot next to Corax. “Although... perhaps not directly in the jaws of the beast as we are now.”

“Traitors, xenos, they are all alike in the end,” Corax replied. “Just another obstacle that Mankind must face in whatever forms it is presented. Stay close to me and we will see this day through.”

“Yes, my lord.” The Raven Guard fell silent after that, keeping their eyes forward as the Thunderhawks lifted off for their descent upon Argipinaa. Were Corax more like Russ or even Horus he would have said more, some grand speech to get his soldiers worked up into a fervor before they fell in among the enemy, but words failed him... again.

Even Tara would have more to say...

As they entered the atmosphere, the Thunderhawk began to shake. “My lord, we are taking fire,” the pilot called from ahead. “Interceptors have broken through our defensive screen. We are taking evasive action.”

“Just get us as close to the target as possible.” Corax replied, any further response cut off by gunfire and a daemonic shriek. None of the Raven Guard Veterans flinched as the Thunderhawk was buffeted by strikes from outside, merely flicking their weapons into activation as they drew closer to the target. Corax himself plucked one of the plasma pistols off his belt, listening as the hum of the weapon filled the cabin of the Thunderhawk.

A beep, and the landing ramp opened to a hellscape.

Agripinaa was much like any other Forge World, a massive factory floor stretched out across the entire planet. Vents and foundries belched smoke into the atmosphere, creating a perpetual cloud of smog around the planet. The industrial landscape had been ravaged, giant obelisks of obsidian bursting through the ground while pools of lava and melted metal collected around their base. Glowing portals of Warp Energy hung in the air around the spires, tendrils snaking out to take forms of daemons and other vicious creatures the Traitors planned to use for their invasion. A number of larger transports had already set down, cultists and Traitor Marines marching out to make war upon the Imperium once more.

They did not yet realize war would arrive sooner than they anticipated.

“Quick strike on the transports.” Corax said, preparing to jump from the ramp. “Once we have drawn the Traitor’s focus we will split up and strike valued targets: foundries, portals, anything the Traitors may use for resupply. Do not engage for longer than you need.”

“Yes, Lord Corax,” the Veterans replied, just as the Thunderhawk shook violently from a strike. The Astartes kept their balance easily enough, but the Thunderhawk began to drop quickly towards the ground.

“We’ve been hit,” the pilot replied. “You must jump now, my lord. I will make sure my sacrifice is meaningful.” I would rather not sacrifice you at all, Corax thought, but the pilot knew his craft far more than the Primarch. Who was he to correct if the Thunderhawk was crippled?

“May the Empress guide you, my friend.” he said before jumping forward, his jump pack firing as he leapt clear of the stricken flyer. His veterans followed soon after, the last jumping clear before a flakk missile gutted the Thunderhawk, the ship disintegrating in a ball of fire as it and a few of its fellows plunged towards the ground.

Unlike the orks, always eager to attack the biggest and most dangerous looking thing they could see, the forces of Chaos were more precise in their targeting. Smaller machine guns and light autocannons quickly turned on the descending Veterans, the sky lit up from hundreds of tracer rounds and daemonically enhanced shells. Corax could disappear from the sight of the traitors, but his sons had to quickly duck and dive to avoid getting hit. The Primarch spotted the anti-air weapons, scores of cultists and corrupted Mechanicus Thralls passing ammunition and weapons to waiting gunners.

Corax shifted his angle, diving down towards the gun emplacements as he freed the second plasma pistol from his belt. The gunners still had not noticed him, keeping all of their focus on the descending Veterans even as he bore down upon them. He picked one of the larger gun emplacements before shifting again, drawing back as he leveled his pistols.

Corax fired, bright blue bolts of charged plasma streaking out towards the Traitors. Three of the traitors toppled over dead, chests and heads blasted open from Corax’s attack. The gunners tried to turn their weapons towards the Primarch, but Corax surged forward before they could fully take aim, letting off another burst of fire before storing one pistol away and activating his lightning claws.

The first Traitor, a Marine armed with a blood-caked chainaxe, had only enough time to raise his weapon before Corax plunged his claws into his opponent’s skull. He barely broke pace as he surged forward, smashing a Dark Mechanicus thrall across the face with a backhand from his other hand before stomping a cultist into paste. He drew his claws from the dead Traitor Marine and struck again, slashing one Marine across the chest before blowing the Traitor’s head off with a point-blank shot to the face.

The Traitors turned to run, but Corax was upon them before they had a chance to flee. Stowing away his pistol, he ripped one cultist in half before slamming one half of the corpse into the face of one of his fellows. In that same motion he tore through a second Traitor Marine, the Astartes’ left arm and upper torso hitting the ground a meter away from where the rest of his body landed. One last Marine struck back, his chainsword scraping harmlessly across Corax’s chest before the Primarch grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, the Marine falling limp as Corax crushed his throat.

He tossed the corpse aside, surveying the battlefield as the rest of his sons reached their targets. Cornix led the charge, bashing aside a Possessed Word Bearer with his shield as his Veterans darted towards the unsuspecting transports. The meltabombs could not kill the things from the outside, but sufficient damage would slow the progress of the Traitor’s relief.

That was the hope, at least. Corax knew not to trust hope.

He jumped off the gun emplacement, his pack flaring as he descended upon a charging rank of Chaos Marines. The first was crushed underneath his boots, two more dying from his initial strikes as he charged onward. The others in the squad tried to face him, but their bolters could only do so much before Corax left a pile of broken corpses in his wake. He disappeared again, skirting through the shadows as he searched for a tempting target.

He found one in a Word Bearers Lord leading a larger group of cultists and Possessed Marines. The Traitor held aloft a thick book in one hand, a bloodied power maul in the other, and the dark words he spoke were grating on Corax’s ears as he drew closer. The demagogue urged his followers forward, the tide of Traitors crashing down upon Cornix and his squad as the Veterans set a trio of meltabombs to take out the landing skid of a medium transport.

Corax leapt into the air, using his jump pack to position himself over the horde before revealing himself and diving downward. The cultists had little time to scatter before Corax struck, the minions of Chaos pleading to their gods to save them as Corax advanced on the Possessed. Warped by the daemonic entities that had taken hold of their bodies, these monstrosities hissed as they crashed against Corax, swiping and clawing at him with claws and mutated weapons while their lord looked on.

“Revel in the slaughter, my brothers!” the Word Bearer bellowed, even as Corax tossed aside one of the Possessed like a bothersome rat. “The Dark God of our father Lorgar has blessed you with the skill of a thousand lifetimes, the ferocity of ten thousand men! Strike down the followers of the Corpse Emperor, the lap dogs that dare turn away the light of the Dark God!” Corax said nothing, ramming his claws through the throat of a Possessed Marine. The Chaos Lord seemed to have plenty of bodies to throw at the Primarch, such that Corax could draw no closer no matter how many he killed.

Momentum was fading. Corax needed to break out sooner.

As he finished off another Possessed Marine, ripping off one of its pincher-tipped arms and smashing it through the faceplate of a second Traitor, Corax spotted something flickering through the smoke. Drop pods, from the looks of things, the teardrop-shaped craft hurtling towards the ground at high speed. The Chaos Lord spotted them too, calling to more of his fellows as the new arrivals drew closer. Jonson did not alert me to Drop Pods... but then, when has he ever divulged his full plans. Corax jumped back, kicking off one Possessed that had hooked its claws into a seam of his armor, just as the first Drop Pod hit the ground.

He almost paused when he realized it was painted in the light grey of the Space Wolves. He definitely paused when its occupant broke out with a roar once the doors fell open.

He was scruffier than Corax remembered, his grey armor almost worn down to base ceramite, but Corax could not deny the imposing figure of Leman Russ as the Wolf King tore into the ranks of the Traitors. Each sweep from his sword cleaved a score of the enemy in two, their crimson blood splashing across Russ’ armor as the Primarch gleefully charged towards the Chaos Lord. The Lord rose to meet Russ, his power Maul flickering as he lunged into the fight.

“A challenger! One more body to see the light!” the Word Bearer crowed. “Come, you sons of wolves. See now the might of the Dark God, who has blessed us with battle this day-”

“Oh shut up, you inbred pup!” Russ shouted, stabbing his sword through the Word Bearer’s chest before burying his axe deep into the Traitor’s head. Corax snapped out of his daze, decapitating a closing Possessed before he leapt forward.

“Russ...” Corax said, keeping his voice low as he approached. By now other Space Wolves had arrived, Grey Hunters and Terminators plunging in to give their lord a little more room to direct.

“Corax!” Russ cried, giving Corax a wide smile. “My god, you look terrible. Fifteen thousand years have not done well for your complexion. But never mind that, where were you these last years?”

“I could ask the same question about you,” Corax replied, drawing one of his pistols and firing into a rank of Traitors that had moved to flank the new arrivals. “I had heard you were dead.”

“Rumors, only!” Russ laughed, turning back to the battle before whipping his weapons around. “I shall regale you and your sons tonight with the tales of my escapades. A fine feast we shall have, but first, to battle! Our victory over these cowards will make our saga all the more greater!” Corax could think of several counters to that statement, but Russ was already on the move and unlikely to listen to his brother’s “objections”. He gleefully charged into the center of the fray, a growing line of bisected Chaos Marines in his wake as his sons did their best to keep up. More Chaos Marines entered the battle, pouring fire into the ranks of the arriving Loyalists as zealots and monsters charged into the melee.

Corax allowed himself a moment’s respite, content to let the newly arrived Fenrisians tear through the tide of Traitors. Leman Russ had returned, another Primarch to bear the weight of the Empress’ commands, and even now Corax could see the Wolf King was more than ready to take up such a burden. The Lion would no doubt be displeased at the Wolves’ arrival, but such a matter could be dealt with given the pressing might of Chaos.

Perhaps... Corax thought. Perhaps that is why I still doubt...

“Lord Corax,” Captain Cornix said through the vox, snapping Corax out of his thoughts. “Your orders?”

“... Stay the course.” Corax replied, marching towards the melee of Chaos worshippers and Fenrisians. He spotted Russ in the center, grappling with a blood-splattered daemon prince as his Wolf Guard poured fire into a charging rank of Berzerkers. “But try and make sure the Wolves don’t kill themselves in the process.”

“We will do what we can.”

...

Mattias braced as another broadside slammed into the side of the Sanguinium Martyres. The cruiser pitched to the right, the Inquisitor watching as the Chaos destroyer bearing down on them blasted away another battery of his ship’s guns. The Imperials were not helpless, though, as the Traitor’s companion blossomed into a cloud of fire as one last salvo of torpedoes detonated in its engines.

Small victories, concerning other Chaos and Necron vessels had started to close on the Inquisitorial Cruiser.

“Has there been any word from Magos Aryll?!” he shouted into the closest vox.

“That last hit destroyed our long range comms, my lord,” came the reply. “We have been unable to locate Magos Aryll, Lady Tara, or Lord Mir’shen.”

“Dammit!” the ship shuddered from another strike, Mattias’ grabbing a nearby relay to avoid falling. “Keep us close to the planet as possible, and get our shields back online!”

“Yes, my lord.” there was a burst of static, Mattias looking up as another volley of missiles smashed into the Chaos destroyer. Heavy shells exploded against the corrupted vessel’s bow, but still the enemy bore down on the Sanguinium Martyres, its own cannons firing downward on the cruiser’s superstructure. The two vessels continued their deadly dance through the void, a trail of shattered armor and broken guns following them as they tried and fail to land a decisive hit on the other.

Just as well, Mattias thought. We need to be here for Twilight and the others.

Another lurch, and Mattias could feel the ship began to stall. “Engines four and one have been hit, my lord!” the vox crackled. “We are trying to compensate, but that will cost us speed.”

“Just get us into a position where we can finally kill this traitor! We can worry about damage control later.” Mattias did not need a reply; the captain knew his mission, and the cruiser had not failed him once since Mattias had taken command. The Sanguinium Martyres stabilized, slowing ever so slightly to allow the Traitor an opportunity to cut in front.

Right into the firing arc of the cruiser’s heaviest weapons.

The Imperials did not waste a moment, a swarm of torpedoes streaking out in the path of the destroyer. The Traitors had little time to maneuver, the ship rising up in a vain attempt to dodge before the torpedoes struck home. There was a ripple of explosions across the bow of the destroyer before all were consumed by a massive fireball, the forward magazine of the destroyer detonating and casting thousands to their doom. The hammering volley on the Sanguinium Martyres ceased, the Imperials watching the Chaos vessel’s death throes in silence.

There was no time to celebrate, as a Chaos cruiser and its escorts had broken from the melee to engage the crippled Sanguinium Martyres, a few macrocannon shots flying high over the Inquisitorial cruiser. Mattias braced again, the ship rocking as it drew away from the encroaching Traitors.

“My lord,” the vox crackled again. “With our engines damaged we can only make half speed. The Traitors will have us in range within the hour.” Mattias said nothing. His ship could take more punishment, sure enough, but it would not win a protracted fight against the Traitors.

If this is where I am martyred, Empress, he prayed. I only wish for my sacrifice to have a greater impact on your mission than I can see.

“We have received a communication with Magos Aryll,” Mattias snapped out of his prayer. “He is requesting to speak with you.”

“Pass it through.” there was a pause before Aryll’s metallic voice came through.

“Lord Velas,” the Magos said. “Lady Tara and the Sororitas assigned to her have recovered the Unbound Flame. We are beginning our final approach now.”

“Good...” Mattias replied, doing his best to regain his calm. “Complications?”

“Lord Mir’shen was killed in battle. From what I have witnessed Lady Tara managed to recover his weapons.”

“... Damn.” a pause before Mattias continued. “How is Tw... Tara taking this?”

“I am not one to comment on such emotions. Perhaps that is something you can address. We are beginning the docking procedure now.” Mattias nodded to reassure himself before switching the vox channel.

“Bridge,” he said. “When Magos Aryll has docked, take us into the Warp.”

“My lord, the damage the ship has taken is severe. Entering the Warp without a full diagnostic-”

“Would be no worse than having Chaos or the Necrons take this vessel and kill the Empress’ student. When the Magos has docked take us into the Warp!”

“... Yes, my lord.” Mattias closed the vox, looking down at the floor. The ship groaned as it came about, technicians doing their best to prep for Warp travel while silencing any warning claxons that might prove distracting. The Chaos vessels fired again, a lance bolt shearing off a section of armor from the Sanguinium Martyres’ superstructure as the corrupted ships closed in.

“All hands, prepare for Warp Transit,” a voice called. “Activating drive in 3... 2... 1.” One final lurch, Mattias barely mustering the strength to steady himself, and the cruiser plunged into the tides of the Warp. Briefly Mattias could feel the pull of irreality, whispers of daemons and foul gods brushing against his mind as his vision blurred, but the gellar field of the cruiser flashed to life and gave a moment’s peace to those crew that still lived... for now

“My lord,” the vox chimed. “Given the damage our ship has taken I cannot keep us in the Warp for very long, especially with our Navigator not responding to my hails.”

“Just as long as we are out of reach of Traitors and Xenos alike.” Mattias replied, feeling his head droop as if a heavy weight were tied around his neck. The mission had almost failed, Twilight killed by some alien or heretic soldier... that was a prospect Mattias could not even begin to imagine.

Finally, he lifted his head, turning and walking out of the command bridge and down the hall towards the hangar. Scars of battle were not hard to find, crew members helping wounded comrades towards the infirmaries while priests tended to the dead and dying. Sections of the main hall had been opened to the void during the battle, blast doors having sealed off great swaths of the path to keep the ship’s integrity stabilized. None of the others paid him any attention, even as he stepped lightly around overturned crates of supplies and the pulped bodies of those caught under broken machinery.

The walk to the hangar was a longer one, Mattias finally stepping out into the atrium after what could have been an eternity. The cutter was there, perfectly parked despite the wreckage around it, Magos Aryll and his tech thralls already on the move to greet him. Mattias could also see the white-clad form of Sister Bianca rushing from one of the other halls, but the techpriest drew his attention first.

“Lord Velas,” Aryll droned, turning over a data disc in his hand before passing it to Mattias. “This holds all the information I gathered from our arrival to when the heretics attacked. The cutter managed to remain out of sight, though Lady Tara’s actions did make it trying to recover her and the artefact.”

“Actions...?”

“Tara teleported us nearly halfway across the planet,” Sister Naomi said, breaking past Bianca and coming up behind Aryll. “We were attacked by a greater daemon during the fighting... Lord Mir’shen was killed in the struggle.”

“I was informed.” Mattias said quietly. There was a lengthy pause before he spoke again. “How is Tara?”

“See for yourself.” Naomi stepped back while Aryll and his entourage drifted off through the ship, allowing Mattias a better view of the others. The Sisters had pushed a giant coffin down to the floor, Bianca quickly checking them for any sign of injury. All of them bore some kind of scar across their armor, ranging from small flakes of chipped paint to large sections having been stripped away by the Necrons’ weapons. Fortunately, all of them appeared uninjured.

That just left Twilight out of their number. She stood silently at the top of the gangplank, staring blankly out into space. In her arms she clutched the relics of the late Mir’shen, the Astartes-sized weapons making her look like a child playing with their parents’ clothes and tools. It would have been an amusing sight were it not for the completely shattered look on her face, her eyes glassy and unfocused as she stared out across the hangar. Mattias wanted to approach her, to reassure her that the Forgefather’s sacrifice would be worth it in the end, but he could not muster up the strength to move.

And why not? A voice in his mind asked. You did so well comforting her on Caesaria.

“Mir’shen’s dead...” she said, her voice a barely audible whisper.

“... I know.” Mattias replied. “Tara, if there’s anything we can do-”

“No, there isn’t.” Twilight shook her head, blinking a few times as she came down the gangplank and quickly set the relics at the base of the Unbound Flame. “Just... put these relics with the other one. I think this was what Mir’shen wanted. I’ll be in my room.”

“Tara, hiding away like this won’t make-” Sister Judith started, but Twilight was already on the move.

“I will be in my room. Let me know when I am needed.”

“But you are...” the Sister started, but Twilight was already out of earshot. Mattias watched Judith, noting the Sister rocking on her feet and clenching her hands in anxiety. She even started off after Twilight before Sister Naomi stopped her.

“Give her some time to mourn, Judith,” the Sister Superior said. “If she persists in this manner, then you may speak with her.” Judith hesitated, her hands still clenching together as she looked between Naomi and the spot where Twilight had been. Finally she nodded, tension flowing out of her body as she and her fellow Sisters looked to Mattias.

The Inquisitor remained silent, his eyes darting between the Sisters as he tried to come up with the best possible explanation for their current predicament. No doubt they had some idea of the damage they had taken from the Heretics’ attack, and with Twilight as she was they needed some form of stability to fall back on.

Yet Mattias had no clear answer. All he had was evasion.