Fight or flight responses are not unique to humans. And while in any other moment Zaer would not have been fearful of a single Tempestus Scion, its sudden, Warp-powered appearance immediately following the terrors of the abyss proved particularly harrowing. So when it demanded Zaer to fall to his knees and surrender, Zaer simply stood defiant, awestruck and unable to commit to any serious action.

  That was until an emotionless, grating voice appeared in his ear. “Zaer, you opened the line of your interstitial communicator for 3.2 seconds without a word; do you have something to say?” Zet asked, and Zaer was never so thankful to hear from a lifeless Necron, if only because, in that moment, Zet’s plain monotony proved sufficient to annoy the Aeldari enough to spur him into action.

  But action was not replying, for words took too long to speak, and a Hellgun was currently levied to Zaer’s chest. Zaer tensed up to dive away, and he could have sworn the Scion saw and reacted even to such subtle tells of movement, beginning to shake its head discouragingly. Zaer dove for nearby packs of equipment, and in the process two arcs of red death flew past him, narrowly missing an agility that should have outclassed anything human. Yet as Zaer landed in his camp and drew forth his Shuriken Catapult, two thoughts flicked through the Aeldari’s head. One, vindication, for insisting to stay well away from the Inquisition. But thought two nagged him with uncertainty, for he wondered why the Scion had asked for his surrender at all; in his earlier stupor, he could have been cut down with ease if that was what the Inquisition wanted. It must not have been so.

  Nevertheless, Hellgun shots had been fired, and they needed to be met in turn. Zaer sprang out from his campsite, Shuriken weapon in hand, and intended to return fire at his assailant when next he landed—a human maimed could be questioned later. But when Zaer’s feet did next slide onto the dusty earth, a third arc of lasfire singed the side of his Shuriken Catapult. It may not have impacted critical damage upon his weapon, but Zaer did not have the time or carelessness to test that theory, and instead leapt toward the Scion, Scorpion Chainsword in hand. Zaer slashed at the Scion in an uppercut, but the human proved as nimble as it was accurate, dropping its Hellgun to the ground and diving out of the way. When Zaer transitioned his uppercut to a downward overhead slice to his side, he found his second attack catching against a power knife, and the two held each other at odds, there, for a moment.

  “You serve a master of darkness,” Zaer spoke at last, for the first time in minutes, issuing a warning to his attacker.

  “I care not for the taunts of Xenos,” the Scion answered. “I serve a good man and the God Emperor above, while you obey a villainous lie.”

  “A lie?” Zaer said, scoffing, not much in the mood for the zealous litanies of Imperial dogma.

  “The angel you follow is not yours,” the Scion said, and then ducked out and under the meeting of their blades while thrusting a heel into Zaer’s gut, knocking the Aeldari back a pace.

  “What does your dying empire know of angels?” Zaer objected, gathering his composure, and keeping his Chainsword between himself and his enemy.

  “More than your dead empire, I suspect,” the Scion returned, and dropped a hand to his hip, where Zaer spotted a Laspistol waiting to be drawn. As its barrel rose, Zaer was already on the move, darting around the Scion to force the Las weapon’s aim to cross over the Scion’s front and forcing the Scion to turn as well. A wider movement, and the Scion could have held its ground. Every millisecond was precious to both combatants, and Zaer intended to milk the Scion for all it was worth.

  “His vitals are elevated,” Luciene’s voice appeared in Zaer’s ear, which instilled in him much-needed confidence. So, too, did her next comment: “I’m leaving to assess his situation. The rest of you, assume the worst, prepare for enemy contact.” The thought of Luciene’s arrival made a thin smile spread across Zaer’s lips, though Zaer knew such an admission would not go unnoticed by the Scion.

  The two clashed again, Zaer with renewed vigor and motivation, and the Scion with stoic implacability. Despite the agility with which the Aeldari pirouetted from strike to strike, his weapon was robust and roaring, betraying the Zaer’s otherwise silent movements. In contrast, the Scion countered his blows with the near-silent hissing of a smaller powered dagger, while the Scion’s own movements were chunky and brutish, as though a hammer mauling stone. Zaer tried not to dwell on the fact that a mere human was keeping pace with him with inferior armaments, but that fact was hard to ignore. But soon Luciene would be there, and she was swifter and more agile than the human and Aeldari combined.

  A stab deflected, a punch blocked, a Laspistol slapped out of its owner’s grasp. Zaer capitalized on the arrival of his own range advantage by backing off and once more diving for the Shuriken Catapult he had abandoned earlier. Perhaps, by then, the wraithbone of its form had repaired itself from the Hellgun’s wound; it was a chance he was willing to take. But the Scion seemed cognizant of the possibility likewise, and rather than pursuing his Aeldari target, ducked and tumbled through a combat roll as a nigh-imperceptible stream of monofilament projectiles screeched through the air. Zaer’s first burst proved successful enough, even if not meeting their mark. So Zaer turned his aim to follow the Scion out of its roll, and in so doing caught a Hellgun blast to his shoulder.

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  Again, he dropped his Shuriken weapon, and this time he himself catapulted backward, the lasfire striking with heat and force alike. Zaer fell over and down a small ledge, landing on his backside from a drop slightly taller than he was. But he still had his Chainsword in his other hand, in the arm that had not been las’d. With it, he clambered to the ledge and began leaping up it, nearing its crest just as the Scion appeared at its peak. Zaer slashed at the Scion’s feet, forcing the human to leap away, then tumbled over the ledge’s lip and rolled out from another lancing blast of lasfire. Or, so he thought, but was shot once more, and then a third time, as he exited from his roll.

  Zaer fell again, and this time it felt to him as though he fell for an eon, but eventually he landed, singed, in the embrace of blackened flesh. Zaer turned to his savior, and though the walls of sight closed in upon his view, he mouthed a single word to her: Run.

  But Luciene was not one to flee, and when she turned her gaze upward to face the Scion, it was more than anger that kept her in place. The red-eyed, skull-patterned gunman that had shot up her compatriot was, somehow, familiar to her. She knew that the Scion’s gaze was one she had locked with before, but could not recall when, or how. Slowly, gently, Luciene lowered Zaer to the ground, keeping her eyes locked with the Scion’s in the process.

  The Scion, however, did not seem interested in staying to chat. Reality creased upon itself at its back, and the Scion began to step away from the ledge it stood atop. But it retreated no more than that single step before the ledge exploded, and the Scion was sent careening away, Luciene smashing through them both in an instant, a faint golden glow emanating from her form. Battered, the Scion nevertheless righted itself, its Hellgun still in hand, and kneeled to take aim at Luciene as she drew her Eviscerator from her back. But before any further combat took place between the two, the Scion called out to her. “What are you?”

  “Confused and pissed off,” she shouted in response.

  “That makes two of us, at least,” the Scion shrugged. “Don’t do this.”

  “I fear none such as you.”

  “It is not one such as me you should fear,” the Scion said, and with that, the earth at their feet began to tremble. Luciene looked down to it just in time to see a protrusion begin to form where she stood. That slim advantage allowed her to dive toward the Scion just in time to avoid being impaled by the sudden explosion of rock at her feet, a colossal stone wall rising out of the earth where there had not earlier been one. Another wall rose up ahead of her, obscuring her view of the Scion, but she cut through it with ease, if finding her quarry gone. Then red light scattered over a transparent sheen that surrounded her body, an invisible shield defending her from the Scion’s attacks to her left.

  Again, Luciene dove for the Scion, and again the ground at her feet opposed her. But such shielding was ineffectual when tested against her blade, and she carved through it all the same. This game of cat-and-mouse repeated a third time, and only then did Luciene realize that the manipulation of the terrain was not the Scion’s doing, but that of an unseen, psychic enemy from afar. To that, Luciene plunged her Eviscerator into the earth, then punched a fist into a palm, forcing her own Empyreal-abilities to collide with themselves, along with whatever opposing mentality influenced the scene. The resulting shockwave of gold shattered the various walls that had arisen, leveling the earth as it had been prior to her arrival, and also launched the Scion into the air, off its feet.

  When the Scion landed, it tumbled backward a moment, but caught and righted itself in a heartbeat. Upon locking eyes with Luciene again, the Scion could only barely process the sudden surge of power within and beyond her form as she withdrew her sword from the ground. It was like watching a lightbulb illuminate, and then in the next instant, Luciene vanished from view, and the Scion was lifted into the air once more.

  The Scion’s bodiless arm hit the ground before its arm-deprived body did, Luciene standing between the two with blood dripping from the teeth of her blade. She observed the damage inflicted, judged it fatal, and committed nothing further to the battle before leaving it altogether to return to Zaer. The Aeldari was alive and breathing when she left him.

  But he was not when she returned.

  And that, then, sufficed to knock the angel to her knees, scooping her lifeless friend into her arms before she fled back to the rest of her allies.

  ***

  The coldness seeped out of the one-armed Scion and was replaced with comforting warmth, howsoever falsified its source may have been. Is that you, brother? the Scion thought.

  +It is,+ the words appeared in the Scion’s head.

  The Scion’s eyes closed, and weak though he was, he managed a nod, pieces of his cracked facemask falling off from the simple movement. Don’t want me dying alone, huh? I’m glad you’re here.

  +I’m sorry, Silas.+

  So am I. It was a fine service we provided, you and I. But all things end, the Scion returned, yet no immediate reply came. Still, the warmth persisted, so the Scion knew his brother remained. But breathing was becoming difficult, even to manage gentle sighs and gasps for air. A better end than most of us got. I get to spend it with you. Do you think the Emperor watches all of this?

  +I know He does, Silas.+

  Pity, the Scion frowned. Brother, the Scion began, but refocused his thoughts on breathing in once more. It may have been his last chance to, but thankfully the air was clear, cool. Have mercy on her. She knows not what she is or what she does.

  Silence. Yet the warmth remained, even as the dark closed in.

  Have mercy on her, for your own sake.

  Silence. Darkness. The thoughts stopped. Emptiness arrived, and with it, nothingness. Silas Hager, a Scion of the God Emperor, lay motionless in a pool of his own blood, a savage mound of flesh where one of his shoulders used to be. And then the ground centered on his corpse quaked and cratered under an invisible force, as though the Scion’s body weighed a trillion tons. And only then, as storm clouds gathered over a lifeless realm, did the Scion receive a reply to his dying wish.

  +NO.+