//------------------------------// // 2.22- Through the Shadows... // Story: The Empress Returns // by iowaforever //------------------------------// Through the Shadows... “Mon’Keigh!” one of the Eldar cried, joy soon replaced by pain as the Khan cleaved it in half, without breaking stride. Around him, his fellow warriors took up positions to fire into the melee separating the docks from the humans, captured xenos weaponry laying low several of the enemy before they had a chance to react. The other prisoners kept back as best they could, leaving the heaviest fighting to those still capable as they cut a corridor through the morass of the enemy. The enemy, be it alien or daemon, was not so patient. The Khan sprinted behind cover, a stream of crystalline projectiles shattering against the supplies as he disappeared from sight. The shots continued, two of the weakened prisoners falling dead from errant gunfire while the freed Astartes returned fire with the unseen foe. Sensing he was no longer the primary target, the Khan ducked out of cover and charged towards a collection of daemons and Eldar, the creatures too busy fighting one another to acknowledge their coming doom. He swept his dao upward, chopping a daemonette and two Kabalites in half with his first strike. The Eldar tried to fall back, taking a few wild shots as the Khan twisted his blade around and bisected another Eldar skull with a downward chop. The daemonettes were not so easily frightened. With a cackle they surged towards the Khan as if of one mind, swiping and snapping at him with claws and pincers. With the captured klaive and his dao he managed to deflect most of the strikes, though a few grazing wounds across his arms were enough to force him back. He retreated, sweeping the swords in great downard arcs to drive off the daemonic onslaught, even if only for a few seconds. One of his fellows spotted the Khan’s retreat, bringing his gun to bear and blasting away several of the daemonettes before they had a chance to push onward. The prisoner paid with his life, an Eldar sniper blowing his chest out with a direct hit, but it was enough for the Khan to recover his momentum. He slammed the klaive into one daemonette’s throat, black blood splashing across his arm as he used the frail daemon to barrel over another of its kin. He spun even before those bodies hit the ground, taking the arm and head off another daemonette as the creature leapt towards him. Two more strikes saw the remaining daemons fall in pieces, the Khan striding towards the defenses as the creatures dissolved back into swirling purple energy. He singled out one of the defense platforms guarding the main gate, keeping his blades to his side in preparation to strike as he closed. The Eldar did not notice him at first, keeping their weapons sweeping across the melee before them in indiscriminate slaughter. By the time one of them spotted the closing Primarch, it was too late; the Khan leapt forward, bringing the klaive down to chop the arms off the nearest Eldar before staking the main gunner to the ground with his dao. With the gun emplacement silenced, the Khan turned his focus back to the battle, spotting the huddled masses still hiding among the shadows. “Quickly now, before these xenos rally,” he called, jabbing his sword towards the main gate. The prisoners hesitated, a few of them taking tentative breaks from cover before drawing back or being cut down by gunfire. Finally they moved, groups rushing through the corridor as best they could as the fighters shifted to provide the best coverage. The Eldar swooped in, wytches and Kabalite warriors crashing against the defenders to try and reach the wounded and weak. With all they had left, the warriors of humanity still held. The prisoners rushed into the dock, the Khan leading the way while the other fighters took the rear. The dock was much like any other Eldar structure, a curving plane sweeping out into empty space, with few straight lines to be seen. Most of the larger craft had been unmoored, their crews pulling them up to keep them away from the fighting below, but the Khan did see a few smaller ships on the far end of the dock that appeared unguarded. He started off, the prisoners getting his intent quickly as they hurried down the dock. They did not go far before the Eldar struck, two of their gunboats swooping in and opening fire upon the crowd. Prisoners screamed as they ducked to avoid the shots, many falling dead as the Eldar moved in for the kill. The xenos’ victory was short lived, for a golden bolt of energy blast through one of the nearer gunboats, vaporizing the aliens before they had a chance to respond. The Khan turned and spotted the Empress perched on one of the larger spires of the dock, the air around her glowing as she channeled her power. She twisted her hand about, the second gunboat seizing up before crumpling into a dense ball, its occupants crushed to nothingness. Their escape now covered, the Khan continued his run towards the transport, the dazed prisoners following suit soon afterwards. The transport the Khan had spotted was practically abandoned, with only a few dead Kabalites surrounding the craft to indicate it had once been manned. He paused, noting that many of the xenos’ wounds were inflicted by bolt weapons. Alpharius’ infiltrators, perhaps? A nearby explosion shook him out of his speculation, and the Khan turned back to the remnants of their initial group that had gathered behind him. “Go to the hold and find shelter. We shall make sure the xenos do not take any more lives today.” As the prisoners filed past the Khan and into the bowels of the transport, the Khan swept his vision across the docks. More daemons had sprouted up, drawing away most of the Eldar fighters in their mad rush for slaughter. The Empress had teleported to the ground floor, hacking her way through the crowd in an effort to reach the Khan and his fellows. Her presence was a boon for the refugees, providing a great distraction for daemon and xenos alike to focus on, rather than shooting those who could not fight back. “All those that cannot fight are aboard,” the Khan turned as one of the warriors approached, the Astartes covered in blood that was not his own. “Your orders?” “Get this thing moving,” the Khan said, turning away from the battle and starting up the gangplank. “The Eldar may look to cut us off and make this journey pointless.” “What of the Emperor... Empress, I mean?” “She will manage, if she is truly all she claims to be.” The Khan stepped into the darkness, his warriors following behind as several others did their best to close the transport up for transit. The hallways were twisting and disorganized, bedecked with a number of trophies the previous crew had set up, and even the Primarch found it difficult to move onward without bumping or scraping against something. The alien hallways continued ever onward, but to the Khan’s relief they still held to the idea that the bridge did best at the rear of the ship. Steering was just as alien as the rest of the vessel, the Khan spying a contraption that looked like a series of curved rods ending in a small panel of buttons and touch interfaces. He signaled to one of the others, the smaller Astartes stepping up and tentatively placing his hand against the panels. No sooner had the Marine’s hands touched the controls did the transport begin to hum, displays showing the outside of the vessel flickering to life in the dark. “The controls are... odd,” the Marine said. “But at the very least we can get free.” “Whether or not we’ll be falling to our deaths remains to be seen,” another mumbled, drawing a few chuckles from those around him. The Khan said nothing, keeping his focus on one display that he guessed showed a number of Eldar fighters swooping down to join the battle, but he did allow a small smirk to grace his lips for a moment. The “pilot” pressed down on one of the panels, the transport humming as its alien sails twisted about to better direct power to the engines. Slowly, the transport began to drift away, mag-locks falling limp as it broke free of the dock. Almost as soon as they pulled away, they were attacked. The Khan braced as the ship lurched, the image of a fighter swooping away as several missiles smashed into one of the transport’s stabilizers. The sail held, for now, though the transport’s already haphazard progress would be hampered as it tried and failed to remain stable. “Does this thing have any defenses?” he called back. “I presume so, my lord,” the pilot called back. “What exactly that means when the xenos are concerned is another matter. Perhaps we might be able to weather the attacks until we get to a safer area.” another lurch, the bridge filled with the sound of a warning klaxon. “... Perhaps not. Damn xenos craft; of course they would make it so nothing works.” “Get us clear of the spires.” the Khan replied. “If we do crash at least then we will be far from the xenos hives.” The transport turned and started off, the entire thing shuddering as its engines roared to life. Two more Eldar fighters swooped in, blasting away with missiles and lance weapons while the captured ship was helpless to respond. The Astartes barely reacted, centuries of training helping them to stay calm even as more of their craft was shot away by the xenos. On the display, the Khan saw two of the fighters disappear, destroyed by direct hits from some “unknown” source. There was a brief flash before a tiny figure appeared atop the ship, rooting itself just as a barrage of missiles ripped through the upper sail. There was a pause before the Khan felt a rush of energy, golden light filling the air around them and racing over the ship. Impacts from missiles and gunfire lessened to nothing, the Marines on the bridge untensing as the transport’s flight evened out. Jaghatai... The Empress’ voice echoed through his mind. He stepped back, more out of surprise than anything, but soon calmed his mind as the Empress continued speaking. I have kept the enemy off us for now, but there will be other traps awaiting us. Be on your guard, for I sense darkness closing in on us. The Primarch said nothing at first, even if the Empress could hear him, instead turning to check on his chosen as they continued to try and handle the Eldar ship. “Seems the Empress has chased off those xenos,” the pilot said. “We should be clearing the spires soon, my lord.” “Good.” the Khan replied, finally reaching to stow away his weapons. “Make for a place the Eldar cannot find us. Then, the Empress will lead us to our next destination, wherever that might be.” And hopefully it is not too detrimental to our strength. The pilot said nothing, continuing to steer as best he could manage. The Khan watched the man, checking him for any signs of strain or worry, but the Astartes kept his composure as they continued onward. Attacks fell away, and silence reigned. Soon, the refugees slipped down into the shadows of the Webway, only the glowing light of the Empress’ shield guiding their path. ... Corax never thought he would be placed in a position to be “peacekeeper”. Horus, for all his faults, had been effective at getting the other Primarchs to work together. Sanguinius or Lorgar could easily talk down and win over their brothers with a kind word or sheer charisma, and Guilliman was always one to try and be diplomatic. Corax was none of that, and never tried to act as anything else. Yet here he was, leading Russ towards a meeting with the Lion and his followers that Corax knew would end poorly. And he had to be the one to ensure its success? Empress, if you can hear me, I need some assistance. “Good to finally see some friendly faces around here,” Russ had not stopped talking since they had cleared the landing zone, and Corax could tell he was not going to stop any time soon. Not even the rumbling of their Thunderhawk’s engines could drown out his chattering. “I’d heard rumors you’d gone into the Eye too after that whole mess with Horus. Even looked for you for a century, but I suppose you’ve always had a knack for not being found.” “Yes.” Corax replied, keeping his voice controlled. “After that I took to hunting down some of those traitors lurking around; They didn’t seem to do much, so it was a might harder than I thought. Almost got Angron to get off his ass a few times,” the Wolf King laughed. “Ah, that idiot hasn’t changed. All rage, no substance. That’s good, though; means we can just beat him as we did before, send him back with his tail between his legs.” “I wouldn’t be one to have such great confidence at this time,” Corax said. “After what I’ve heard you’ve been up to in the south?! Bah, Corax! You don’t have enough confidence in yourself!” Russ gave Corax a playful punch to the shoulder, Corax barely reacting as the Wolf King laughed. “Smash an Ork WAAAGH! and stymie those bug xenos in under a year? Truly a feat worthy of the annals of Mankind.” “With the assistance of others, of course.” Corax finally turned to look at Russ. “I am not so prideful as to take full responsibility for campaigns that I only played a small part of.” “No, but there’s no need to be so morose about it,” Russ countered. “I leave that to Jonson and his lot. Shame you had to come with him; I would have loved to see what this ‘Empress’ you’ve spoken of can do on the battlefield.” “We must make do with all we have at this time.” There was a shudder as the Thunderhawk came to a stop, Corax’s veterans and Russ’ chosen unhitching their restraints as the two Primarchs stepped forward. Another shudder, and the boarding ramp lowered to give Corax and Russ their first look at the Dark Angels’ firebase. The firebase had been constructed on a rallying field before one of the main forges, a vast plane of steel perfect for concentrating vast numbers of men and tanks. Ranks of battle tanks and artillery vehicles waited at the far end of the field, techpriests inspecting each and every one before sending them back into the fray. The Dark Angels had moved their own vehicles up, mostly Rhinos and Razorbacks awaiting the rest of the Chapter to arrive to be ferried to the front. Directly in front of them Corax could see a small entourage of Space Marines, white-clad Deathwing Terminators flanking Jonson as he waited for his brothers to arrive. Impossibly, the Lion looked even more frustrated than before. “Jonson!” Russ called, stepping past Corax and down the ramp. “Glad to see you kept your forces together over the years.” “What are you doing here, Russ?” Jonson growled, his eyes never leaving the Wolf King. “Saving your hide, from the looks of things,” Russ countered, coming to a stop in front of the Lion. “You come blasting in here without really realizing what you’re up against. You’d hold out for a little longer but without me these traitors would have recovered much faster.” “From your limited scope of things, merely killing a bunch of traitors might seem like a great victory. If that’s all you’re here to do, you are free to leave.” “Our push against our foes is tenuous as it is,” Corax said, coming up behind Russ and placing himself between the two. “It would be best that we stand as one rather than break off on our own, so if you two are finished bickering then perhaps we can construct a plan that best deploys our resources against the enemy.” There was a pause, both the Lion and the Wolf King looking to Corax as if he had suddenly started singing and dancing. The Primarch of the Raven Guard merely cast his eyes between the two of them, his expression not shifting in the slightest. “... Very well.” the Lion said after a minute. “Come with me, and I will give you a debriefing on our current strategic positioning.” with that him and his entourage turned and started off towards the forge, Corax waiting for Russ to follow before moving to catch up with the other two. “Agrippina will hold, even without our presence,” the Lion said, sidestepping a column of Basilisk artillery vehicles before continuing. “The Mechanicus forces had most of their forces prepared before the Traitors arrived, and supplemented by the Imperial Guard they will keep the enemy stalled. From there, we will be able to strike out and roll the frontier back.” “Where, exactly?” Russ asked. “The path I have chosen should take us back to the ruins of Cadia. We will move north towards Volscar, then move east and perhaps cut the Traitors off-” The Lion did not finish before Russ scoffed, drawing the Primarch to a stop as he turned to face him. “Do you have a better plan?” “Have you not seen the space around us?” Russ asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “The Eye of Terror wasn’t exactly neat and tidy before, but now it’s devouring worlds like they’re hens set out for a feast. You can go back to Cadia, but that still leaves quite a lot of Warp just running amok.” “You would pick at the sides,” the Lion countered, drawing closer to Russ once more. “I would see the head struck from the serpent before it can continue to grow in strength.” “If the head’s what you want, then perhaps you need to look a bit closer.” Russ looked between his brothers before continuing. “The Traitors have a Blackstone Fortress among their fleet. The strongest defenses will do nothing if Lorgar can merely blast a world to ash with ease.” Corax’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly, not enough to be noticed by the others... hopefully. “I do not fear some xenos star fort,” Jonson scoffed. “Should it cross my path, I will see it returned to the dust from whence it came.” “Better we strike it now before it comes to that,” Russ countered. “You want to strike a blow against the Traitors, we destroy that fortress and collapse Lorgar’s fleet. Then we can take whatever they’ve captured at our leisure.” “And I suppose you know where this Fortress is?” Jonson asked. Corax noted Russ’ cocky demeanor slip. “... No.” he said finally. “But my Runepriests could find it easily enough.” “Forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm for folksy conjuring.” The Wolf King bristled as the Lion turned away. “I cannot spare the resources to go traipsing across the Segmentum in search of one starfort. Better to let it come to us than to waste time and lives hunting it down.” “So you will do nothing,” Russ growled, giving a snort before continuing. “You’re many things, Jonson, but I never took you for a coward.” “I am a realist, not a coward!” the Lion snapped, rounding on Russ. “My orders are to contain the expansion of Chaos, and I will need every soldier and vessel in precise places if we are to succeed. Were our position more secure I would gladly send an expedition to find this Blackstone Fortress and destroy it, but it is not. Perhaps if you got it through your thick skull that we do not have the forces of the Crusade, then maybe you would not make an ass of yourself and actually fight our enemies in a meaningful manner!” “Enough, both of you!” Corax barked, his outburst once more catching the Wolf and the Lion off guard. “The more you fight, the stronger our enemies grow. They will not need any xenos superweapon to break us, for both of you are doing a fine job of it already.” “We wouldn’t if Jonson could pull his sword from his ass...” Russ muttered. Corax chose to ignore him. “It is clear that neither one of you is up to the task of destroying the Blackstone Fortress,” he continued, both of his fellow Primarchs drawing back in offense. “Russ would draw forth too many resources, and the Lion would leave it be to wreck more havoc on our forces. For lack of a better option, I’ll destroy it myself.” “Corax, we must stand together as one,” the Lion said. “You said it yourself.” “Even if you do go, you cannot face the might of a Blackstone Fortress on your own,” Russ added. “If we are to fight this fortress, I should lead the assault.” “You have no sense of subtlety, Russ,” Corax countered. “The Traitors would smash your fleet before you even got close to the Fortress. And Jonson,” he turned to the other Primarch. “You of all must understand a battlefield is never static. Far ranging units are just as connected to one another as any frontline troops; the three of us working together will be able to not only strike down the Fortress, but perhaps even put the Traitors on the defensive for once.” there was a pause, the Lion and Russ looking between one another before looking back to Corax. Do they really need more explanation? “This would call for targeted strikes,” Corax continued, pushing past the other two as he continued. “Forces strong enough to draw attention, but not enough to spend our troops needlessly. We attack whatever will weaken and provoke the Traitors; supply depots, transports, portals, whatever they might have. Once we entice our opponents into committing more of their forces, then we strike out and destroy their Fortress.” “Lorgar does enjoy spectacle these days,” Russ mused, stroking his chin with a free hand. “So, we move to skirmishing our foes now.” “It helped my people win Deliverance,” Corax said, turning to face the others once more. “Done well, and it will save the Imperium from Chaos once more.” another pause. “I will... think on this,” Jonson said finally. “I do not like it in the least, but perhaps once our position is fully secure it will allow us to be more... bold. I will take an assessment of what the immediate presence of our enemy is and then construct a new defense.” “It is better than not acting at all,” Russ added, even as the Lion turned and walked off. “Guess I was wrong about you, Corax; you have taken more confidence in yourself.” Corax did not respond, keeping his gaze neutral as he mulled over the newest development. At the very least, it would placate Russ and Jonson for a little while, long enough for the Empress to finish rallying their forces for battle. That was the hope, at least. But then, perhaps Corax was more willing to open his mind to hope. ... They had not gone far from Commorragh before the ship had crashed. Structural damage, alien controls, fate. Whatever the cause, the ship had stalled and plunged into the Webway, shearing off great expanses of Wraithbone and crystal in its meteoric descent. Strain from the sudden shift quickly ripped off its stabilizing sails, its pace increasing before it plowed into the floor of some great spire, the vessel tearing a deep trench before it came to a stop at the base of some defunct alien gate. Celestia grimaced as they hit, digging her boots into the deck of the vessel as she poured her power into her shields. The force of the impact sent a heavy shockwave through her body, but even as her limbs wavered her powers did not. Broken pieces of Wraithbone danced around her in a cloud, small slivers slipping past her shields to cut shallow grooves in her armor. But the shields would hold. That was all that mattered. Finally, the ship came to a stop. Celestia held position for a minute, not releasing her shield until she was certain there was no danger about. With a small gasp she straightened herself upright, taking a moment to take in the vast, empty plane they had crashed into. At least we were not followed. We will have some time to rest. Shifting her energy, she teleported down into the hold, appearing off to the side of the main cargo hold. Ahead she could see the newly freed prisoners, shaken from the landing but otherwise free of any new injuries. They did not see her arrival, too focused on comforting one another from the crash, but gradually some of them did spot her in the shadows and drew back, as if being in her sight was somehow offensive to her. Given all these people have likely been through, anyone in such a position of authority would be a terror. “There is no need to be afraid,” she said, keeping her voice soft as she stepped from the shadows. “I merely wished to see that you all were well.” the former prisoners said nothing, all falling silent as they diverted their eyes from directly gazing upon Celestia. Sensing their fear, she stopped short of the main group and knelt, holding out her right hand towards the nearest ones. “If there is anything that ails you, I am here to help.” The former prisoners hesitated, some looking to one another in confusion or fear. Finally, some took tentative steps closer to Celestia. “Is... Is it all over?” the nearest one asked. “Are we safe...?” “As long as I draw breath, I shall never let harm befall you,” Celestia said, giving the weary prisoners a warm smile. They still hesitated, but eventually one reached a tentative hand towards Celestia, scarred flesh brushing against the warm metal of her armor. The moment passed as the prisoners drew back, Celestia rising as she heard newcomers arriving. “Empress,” Jaghatai said, his voice cutting through the peace. “A moment of your time?” Celestia paused, turning towards the Primarch. It was unlike him to be so direct in asking her for advice, but... Well, this is hardly normal circumstances. “Of course,” Celestia nodded before turning back to the huddled prisoners. “I will return soon, my friends.” They said nothing, but a few hopeful glances were all she needed now. She turned and followed Jaghatai down one of the many hallways of the wreck, his chosen moving away to look over their charges and give the two some privacy. “I see it is more than your body that has changed since we last spoke,” the Khan said, keeping his voice low. “You disapprove?” Celestia asked, one eyebrow raised. “I have had more than enough issues from Jonson in regards to such matters.” “The Lion lives?” Jaghatai asked, perhaps more quickly than he intended. There was a pause before his stern demeanor returned. “When I departed the Imperium, you were barely clinging to life. I had originally thought there would be a means to heal you within the Webway, but that was another fool’s errand.” he turned away. “Now that you have returned, I fear perhaps it might not be to a realm you would desire.” “Of course not, Jaghatai,” Celestia started. “Superstition has arisen where we fostered truth and understanding. In time, we will drive away the corrupting influence and leave Humanity as it was meant to be.” “Without you indulging in your petty distrust for the Immaterium and those who use its power for the best.” Celestia’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing as the Khan continued. “... Apologies, that was low of me. As I said, you have changed.” And yet I seem to be making great strides at falling into old habits, Celestia thought. She shook her head and continued. “I have made mistakes, but I am doing what I can to make up for them. Perhaps with your assistance, that will be an easier task than before.” “If that is what you wish.” the Khan replied. “I intend to return to Chogoris, rally my sons that we may continue our great hunt unabated. Given what I have seen, what no doubt you have seen, we shall find our skills put to good use.” “Unfortunately, ours is not a war of conquest anymore. A dark force pours from the Immaterium, led by your Traitorous brothers. We stand on the defense now, but soon we shall be in a position to drive back our enemy and restore order to the Imperium.” “Do you say this to convince me, or yourself?” Celestia stopped, working her jaw for a moment as she contemplated what the Khan had said. “... You are right, I am babbling like some cretin,” she said, drawing back as she continued. “Our foes do not matter, only that we stand as one. Corax and Jonson have gone to hold the tide, and with your presence we can begin a true offensive.” “Should Corax’s doubt and the Lion’s arrogance not cost us too much,” Jaghatai countered. “I will rest now. Alert me to when we are ready to move to a new position.” and with that the Primarch departed, the shadows wrapping around him until he was out of Celestia’s sight. She stood in silence for a minute, watching where her son had disappeared, before turning and starting back towards the refugees. They do not need you. Celestia stopped, her hand falling to her sword as the presence of the Dark God crept back towards her. Ah, did you think I would leave you in peace? “You must grow bored with this,” Celestia growled, turning down a different hallway to draw the daemon away from her people. “My sons have always been independent of my will, the Khan perhaps more so than others. Why taunt me with a fact that I already know?” You say that you are indifferent, but in your soul you know it burns you deeply. The Dark God shifted, Celestia feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as it drew up behind her. For your whole life you have wanted to control everything, to dominate man and alien beneath your will. And yet you turn your back for just a moment, and your people realize they do not need you anymore and cast you aside. And you tell me that does not bother you? “That version of me died centuries ago,” Celestia snapped. “I am not the tyrant you think I am... that you would have me think I am. When my mission is done here and you are destroyed, they will have their choice where they wish their lives to go.” Do not try to fool me, Empress. You are a conqueror, and you always have been. Were you not you would never have taken up sword and armor once more to fight as you have since you returned to this universe. Celestia’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing as the Dark God sniggered. Oh? Did I strike a nerve again? I know full well about your little escapades across the universe. “Now it is my turn to call you a liar,” Celestia said, keeping her voice controlled. “If you truly knew of my whereabouts since I first struck at the Four, why keep it hidden away? Why not tell your followers every dirty secret I have kept? Yet they remain silent, as do you, so you do not know if your assumptions are correct or not.” The nature of the Warp is both chaos and order at once. The Dark God drew away. Yes, the anarchy and strife is always present, but the old gods were as much slaves to their being as any mortal. Khorne was always a bloodthirsty brute, Slaanesh an insatiable whore, and you... Celestia could feel the shadows drawing towards her front, the brief image of a humanoid figure drawing together in front of her. You will always be a tyrant, a conqueror. The very nature of the galaxy demands that it be such, and you can never break free of that truth. “But can one that has walked all paths be truly beholden to one?” Celestia’s breath caught as a new presence came up behind her. She turned, spotting the spectral image of a man clad in silver Terminator armor walk out of the gloom. “Can one who has the sight of a god and strength of a god, yet has walked the path of a mortal, not choose which is their to follow at the end of all things? Can a conqueror not also be a teacher, a laborer, a mother?” You! The Dark God hissed, drawing further away from Celestia. What are you doing here?! “You will never know. Now flee, daemon; your presence is unwarranted.” Celestia could feel the Dark God shift, the creature snarling before its presence dissipated. A minute past, just enough for her to be sure the Dark God would not return before she turned to the newcomer. “Horus...” she said, a small smile forming on her lips. “It is good to see you again, father,” the fallen Warmaster said, returning the smile.