The fortress loomed before them like a wound carved into the fabric of the Warp. Its jagged spires jutted into the swirling, chaotic sky, black as voidstone and alive with a faint, pulsating light. The walls, if they could be called that, seemed to ripple and breathe, their surfaces crawling with veins of iridescent energy that pulsed to an unnatural rhythm. Whispers drifted through the air, faint and maddening, clawing at the edges of Servius’s mind.

  He crouched behind a shattered rock formation at the edge of the fortress’s perimeter, his sharp green eyes scanning the outer defenses. The terrain here was jagged and broken, the ground riddled with molten fissures that belched sulfurous smoke into the air. A ring of crude barricades surrounded the base of the fortress, manned by cultists in ragged armor and adorned with the blasphemous symbols of the Ruinous Powers. Above them, gargoyle-like figures perched on the battlements, their silhouettes barely distinguishable in the haze. Servius didn’t need to see their faces to know what they were—Traitor Astartes.

  “We’re not getting through the main entrance,” Adrasta whispered, crouched beside him. Her sharp gray eyes flicked toward the massive gates that marked the fortress’s primary entrance. The doors were grotesque, their surfaces sculpted with writhing forms of tortured souls, their screams frozen in time. “They’ll see us long before we get close.”

  Servius nodded, his tail flicking once in agreement. “Then we find another way in.”

  Adrasta glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Easier said than done. The whole place is alive—it’ll sense us if we’re not careful.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse,” Servius replied, his voice cold and steady. His green eyes remained fixed on the fortress, his sharp ears swiveling as he listened for any sign of movement. The whispers grew louder the longer he stared at the structure, a chaotic symphony that threatened to drown out his thoughts. He shoved the noise aside, focusing on the task at hand.

  Adrasta sighed quietly, her fingers tightening around the grip of her autogun. “There’s a section of the outer wall on the east side,” she said. “One of the patrols mentioned it during a raid—said it was weaker there. A service entrance, maybe. It’s not heavily guarded, but if the rumors are true, it’s... unstable.”

  “Define unstable,” Servius said, his tone edged with impatience.

  Adrasta smirked faintly, the expression dark and humorless. “The walls breathe. The floor shifts. And there’s something in the shadows that doesn’t like visitors.”

  Servius’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. In the Warp, instability was a given. “Show me.”

  They moved carefully along the perimeter, keeping to the shadows and using the jagged terrain for cover. The cultists guarding the outer barricades were numerous but poorly disciplined, their movements erratic and their attention divided. Servius and Adrasta slipped past them with practiced ease, their footsteps silent against the cracked ground. The air grew heavier as they neared the fortress, the whispers sharpening into fragmented words that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  Servius...

  He froze, his ears flicking toward the sound. It was faint, barely more than a breath, but unmistakably his name. The whispers coiled around him like invisible tendrils, probing at the edges of his mind. He exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from his muscles as he pushed the voices aside. They couldn’t distract him now.

  Adrasta glanced at him, her expression tense. “You hear it too?”

  Servius nodded once, his green eyes narrowing. “Ignore it. It’s just the Warp trying to get in your head.”

  “Easier said than done,” she muttered, her voice tight. But she didn’t press the issue, her focus shifting back to the path ahead.

  The eastern section of the fortress came into view, its walls shimmering faintly with an unnatural glow. The terrain here was more uneven, the ground sloping upward into a jagged ridge that overlooked the weak point in the defenses. The service entrance Adrasta had mentioned was little more than a twisted archway, its surface alive with the same rippling energy that coursed through the rest of the fortress. A pair of cultists stood guard at the entrance, their armor adorned with rusted spikes and dripping with ichor.

  “Two guards,” Adrasta whispered, her breath barely audible. “But the wall itself... it’s watching us.”

  Servius followed her gaze. She was right. The surface of the wall seemed to ripple and shift, faint, glowing veins tracing patterns that almost resembled eyes. The air around the entrance shimmered, distorting the light like heatwaves rising from molten metal.

  “It’s a trap,” Adrasta said, her voice grim. “Whatever’s inside, it’s not going to let us walk in without a fight.”

  “Then we don’t walk,” Servius replied, his tone cold. His green eyes flicked toward the ridge overlooking the entrance. “We go over.”

  Adrasta frowned. “That’s a steep climb. You sure you can manage it?”

  “Can you?” Servius shot back, his tail flicking sharply.

  Adrasta smirked faintly, her scarred face hardening. “Point taken.”

  They began the ascent, moving carefully along the jagged ridge. The climb was treacherous, the rock brittle and prone to crumbling beneath their weight. Servius led the way, his claws finding purchase on the rough surface as he scaled the slope with practiced ease. Adrasta followed close behind, her movements slower but no less deliberate.

  The ridge offered a clear view of the service entrance below, as well as the cultists standing guard. Servius crouched low, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied their movements. The guards were restless, their heads twitching nervously as though they could sense the fortress’s malice pressing against them.

  “They’re afraid,” Adrasta whispered, crouching beside him. “Even their own stronghold doesn’t trust them.”

  “Good,” Servius muttered. “Fear makes them sloppy.”

  He drew his knife, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. “Stay here. I’ll handle them.”

  Before Adrasta could protest, Servius slipped away, his movements silent as he descended toward the guards. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, obscuring his form as he crept closer. The first guard didn’t even realize he was there until it was too late. Servius’s knife flashed in the flickering light, slicing cleanly across the man’s throat. Blood sprayed in an arc, and the cultist crumpled to the ground, his death cry silenced by the wet rasp of his severed windpipe.

  The second guard turned, his eyes widening in alarm—but Servius was already moving. He drove the knife into the man’s chest, the blade piercing his heart in a single, precise motion. The guard collapsed, his body jerking once before going still.

  Servius wiped the blade clean on the fallen cultist’s cloak and glanced back toward Adrasta. She descended the ridge to join him, her autogun held at the ready.

  The entrance loomed before them, its rippling surface pulsing faintly as though reacting to their presence. The air was heavier here, the whispers louder, clawing at the edges of their minds. Servius stepped forward, his green eyes narrowing as he prepared to enter the fortress.

  Behind him, Adrasta hesitated. “You sure about this?”

  “No,” Servius said without looking back. “But we’re out of options.”

  Together, they stepped into the shadows of the fortress.

  The moment Servius and Adrasta crossed the threshold of the service entrance, the air seemed to shift, pressing against them with a weight that was more than physical. The walls of the corridor pulsed faintly, their surfaces alive with a rhythmic motion that mimicked breathing. Veins of iridescent energy twisted through the black stone, branching out like a network of arteries feeding some unseen, grotesque heart.

  Servius’s sharp eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings. The floor beneath his boots was uneven, its surface slick and organic, like flesh stretched taut over bone. The whispers grew louder here, no longer faint murmurs but voices overlapping in an endless, incomprehensible chant. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was clear—mocking, hungry, and utterly alien.

  Adrasta’s breathing was slow and deliberate as she followed behind him, her gray eyes darting toward the undulating walls. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her autogun, the weapon held at the ready. “This place…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the ceaseless whispers. “It’s alive.”

  “I noticed,” Servius replied curtly, his tail flicking sharply behind him. He kept his plasma pistol drawn, the faint hum of its charged cell a small comfort against the oppressive atmosphere.

  The corridor twisted ahead, its walls narrowing and widening at random intervals. Servius moved cautiously, his every step calculated, his sharp ears swiveling at the faintest sound. The fortress was silent apart from the whispers, but it wasn’t a still silence—it was the kind that came before a predator pounced.

  Adrasta’s voice broke the tension. “This isn’t stone,” she murmured, running her gloved fingers along the wall. “It feels... wrong. Like muscle under armor.”

  “Don’t touch it,” Servius snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. “You don’t know what it’ll do.”

  Adrasta pulled her hand back, her expression hardening. “I wasn’t planning on giving it a kiss, Cat. Relax.”

  Servius didn’t respond. His green eyes scanned the corridor ahead, narrowing as the path split into two branching tunnels. Both were identical—twisting, breathing walls and faint, pulsating veins. He exhaled through his nose, his claws flexing absently against the grip of his pistol.

  “Which way?” Adrasta asked, her voice low.

  Servius tilted his head slightly, his sharp ears twitching as he listened. One tunnel was silent apart from the whispers, while the other carried a faint, rhythmic thumping, like the distant beat of a massive heart. His tail flicked sharply, the motion agitated.

  “Right,” he said finally, nodding toward the tunnel with the faint thumping sound. “Whatever’s important is always where it shouldn’t be.”

  Adrasta smirked faintly, though her expression was strained. “You’ve got a real way of making things sound encouraging.”

  They moved into the right-hand tunnel, the air growing thicker with every step. The light from the veins in the walls pulsed in time with the rhythmic thumping, casting eerie shadows that seemed to twist and writhe at the edges of their vision. The whispers grew more distinct now, fragments of words slipping through the cacophony.

  Servius... Adrasta... welcome...

  Servius’s ears flattened slightly, a faint growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t acknowledge the voices, didn’t let them see the flicker of unease that coiled in his gut. The Warp thrived on fear, and he wasn’t about to feed it.

  Adrasta, however, wasn’t as practiced. “Did it just—” she began, but Servius cut her off with a sharp motion of his tail.

  “Don’t respond,” he said coldly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s trying to get in your head. Ignore it.”

  She nodded reluctantly, her grip on her autogun tightening as they pressed forward.

  The corridor opened into a wider chamber, its walls arching upward into a vaulted ceiling that pulsed with veins of light. The floor was uneven, broken by jagged ridges and shallow craters filled with a viscous, black liquid that glowed faintly in the dim light. At the center of the chamber stood a grotesque statue—a massive, writhing form that defied comprehension. Its surface was a chaotic swirl of limbs, faces, and tendrils, all frozen in agonized expressions.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Adrasta’s breath hitched as her gaze fell on the statue. “What in the Emperor’s name is that?”

  “A shrine,” Servius muttered, his green eyes narrowing as he studied the grotesque structure. “Or an anchor. Either way, it’s bad news.”

  The whispers grew louder in the chamber, their tone shifting to a mocking chorus that echoed off the walls. The veins of light in the ceiling pulsed faster, their glow intensifying as if reacting to the intruders. Servius felt the threads of the Nexus stirring faintly within him, a subtle vibration that set his teeth on edge.

  “We need to keep moving,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This place isn’t going to let us stand around.”

  Adrasta nodded, though her gaze lingered on the statue for a moment longer. “If the fortress is alive, then that thing’s probably its heart.”

  “Then we make sure not to wake it,” Servius said sharply. He gestured for her to follow, his plasma pistol held at the ready as he moved toward the next tunnel.

  But as they neared the exit, the whispers shifted again, their tone rising into a keening wail that sent a shiver down Servius’s spine. The veins in the walls pulsed violently, their light flickering erratically. The black liquid in the craters began to bubble, tendrils of smoke rising from its surface.

  “We’ve overstayed our welcome,” Adrasta muttered, her voice tight with tension.

  “Stay close,” Servius ordered, his sharp eyes scanning the chamber for any signs of movement. “And don’t touch anything.”

  As they stepped into the next corridor, the walls seemed to shift behind them, the tunnel narrowing as though trying to trap them. The whispers followed, louder now, more insistent. Servius felt the weight of their gaze pressing against him, a crawling sensation that made his fur bristle.

  The tunnel twisted sharply ahead, its walls narrowing until Servius and Adrasta had to move single file. The air was suffocating now, thick with the cloying stench of decay and sulfur. Every step felt heavier, as though the ground itself were resisting their passage. The whispers had subsided for now, replaced by an oppressive silence that was somehow worse. It wasn’t the absence of sound—it was the anticipation of it, a quiet charged with malice.

  Servius moved ahead, his plasma pistol drawn, the weapon’s faint hum blending with the subtle vibrations in the air. His tail flicked sharply behind him, a subconscious signal to Adrasta to stay close but give him room to move. The jagged terrain beneath their boots made every step treacherous, the shifting light from the veins in the walls playing tricks on their vision.

  Adrasta, a few paces behind, kept her autogun raised, her gray eyes darting toward every shadow. Her breathing was controlled, deliberate, but Servius could hear the faint tension in each exhale. It mirrored the tightness in his own chest, a sensation that had nothing to do with exertion.

  The corridor opened into a wide hall, its ceiling arching high above them like the ribcage of some long-dead beast. Massive pillars lined the sides, their surfaces etched with blasphemous runes that pulsed faintly with sickly green light. Between the pillars, grotesque statues stood in various poses—warriors frozen in the throes of agony, their faces contorted in eternal screams. Some looked human. Others did not.

  “Charming decor,” Adrasta muttered, her voice a strained whisper.

  Servius didn’t respond. His dimly glowing eyes swept the hall, his claws flexing against the grip of his pistol. The air here was different—more charged, more oppressive. The hall was too open, too exposed. It felt like a trap, like stepping into the lair of a predator and waiting for it to spring.

  They moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled against the uneven floor. Servius’s sharp ears twitched at the faintest sound—the distant drip of liquid, the subtle scrape of metal on stone, the almost imperceptible rustle of movement. His tail flicked sharply, a silent signal to Adrasta to stay alert.

  Halfway across the hall, Servius froze. His ears flattened against his head as he tilted his chin slightly, listening. Adrasta stopped as well, her sharp gray eyes narrowing as she scanned the shadows.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Movement,” Servius replied, his voice low and tense. His eyes flicked toward a cluster of shadows near one of the statues. He couldn’t see anything, but the air carried a faint, almost imperceptible vibration—something too subtle for most to notice, but unmistakable to his heightened senses.

  Adrasta shifted slightly, raising her autogun. “Cultists?”

  Servius shook his head, his tail flicking in agitation. “No. Bigger.”

  Before Adrasta could respond, the shadows near the statue seemed to ripple, their edges bleeding into the air like ink spilled in water. A figure stepped forward, its massive form outlined by the sickly green glow of the runes. The unmistakable bulk of power armor gleamed faintly in the dim light, its jagged edges adorned with spikes and trophies of bone. The figure’s helmet was horned, its crimson lenses glowing with malevolent light.

  A Traitor Astartes.

  Servius’s claws tightened around his plasma pistol, the weapon’s hum rising faintly as he adjusted his grip. The Chaos Marine stood motionless for a moment, its gaze sweeping across the hall before settling on them. There was no hesitation, no curiosity—only the cold, predatory focus of a killer who had already decided on his next prey.

  “We’ve been spotted,” Adrasta hissed, her voice barely audible over the pounding in Servius’s ears.

  “Stay behind me,” Servius ordered, his voice sharp and calm despite the tension coiling in his chest. “Let me deal with this.”

  Adrasta didn’t argue. She stepped back, her autogun trained on the Chaos Marine as she moved toward the nearest pillar for cover.

  The Astartes moved with deliberate slowness, each step a calculated display of power. Its bolter hung at its side, the massive weapon’s barrel gleaming in the faint light. But it didn’t raise the gun. Not yet. It wanted to savor this.

  Servius shifted his stance, his green eyes locked on the towering figure. His plasma pistol hummed in his hand, the weapon ready to fire, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Not yet. He needed to time this perfectly—one shot, aimed for the weak points in the armor, the joints where ceramite was thinnest.

  The Chaos Marine stopped a few paces away, its helmet tilting slightly as if to study him. When it spoke, its voice was a guttural rasp, distorted by the vox-grille of its helmet and laced with cruel amusement.

  “Another fool wandering into our domain,” it said, the words rolling out like thunder. “Do you truly think you can stand against the chosen of the Dark Gods?”

  Servius didn’t respond. He shifted his weight slightly, his claws flexing against the grip of his pistol. The Marine’s words were nothing more than noise, a distraction meant to unnerve him. He wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of a reply.

  The Astartes took another step forward, its bolter rising slowly. “You’ll die screaming, mortal,” it growled. “And your soul will be a feast for the Warp.”

  Servius moved.

  His plasma pistol snapped up, the weapon’s barrel glowing bright as he fired. The shot streaked through the air in a searing arc of blue-white energy, striking the Chaos Marine’s shoulder joint and melting through the ceramite with a hiss of superheated metal. The Astartes staggered, its bolter dropping slightly as it let out a guttural snarl of pain.

  Servius didn’t hesitate. He darted to the side, using the pillars for cover as the Marine raised its weapon and fired. The bolter roared, the explosive rounds tearing through the air and shattering the stone pillar where Servius had been standing moments before.

  Adrasta opened fire from her position, her autogun spitting rounds at the Chaos Marine. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its armor, but they served their purpose—distracting it long enough for Servius to reposition.

  The Astartes turned toward her, its bolter barking as it fired a controlled burst. The rounds tore through the pillar Adrasta was using as cover, forcing her to dive to the side. The Marine’s movements were slow but relentless, every motion calculated to maximize its advantage.

  Servius emerged from behind another pillar, his plasma pistol leveled at the Astartes’s exposed flank. He fired again, the shot striking the Marine’s side and burning through the armor’s corrupted plating. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air as the Chaos Marine roared, its free hand clutching at the wound.

  “Keep moving!” Servius barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Don’t let it pin you down!”

  The hall thundered with the sounds of battle—the sharp cracks of Servius’s plasma pistol, the staccato cough of Adrasta’s autogun, and the deafening roar of the Chaos Marine’s bolter. Each shot seemed to reverberate endlessly in the vast space, amplified by the vaulted ceiling and the jagged stone walls. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burnt flesh, molten ceramite, and blood.

  Servius darted between the pillars, his gun raised as he fired another shot. The glowing bolt of energy streaked toward the Chaos Marine, slamming into its left pauldron and searing a molten hole into the jagged ceramite. The Marine staggered but didn’t fall, its crimson eyes blazing with fury behind its horned helmet.

  Adrasta had taken cover behind a shattered statue, her autogun barking in short, controlled bursts. The rounds pinged harmlessly off the Astartes’s armor, but she wasn’t trying to kill it—only to keep it distracted long enough for Servius to line up his next shot.

  The Chaos Marine growled, its voice a guttural rasp distorted by its helmet’s vox-grille. “Pathetic!” it roared, turning its bolter toward Adrasta. “You cannot stand against me!”

  Servius saw the shift in the Marine’s aim and acted immediately. He sprang from cover, plasma pistol raised, and fired a shot directly at the Astartes’s exposed side. The bolt struck true, burning through the gap between the Marine’s torso armor and greave. The creature snarled, jerking to the side as blackened blood sprayed from the wound.

  “Over here,” Servius snarled, his voice sharp and cutting. “Try me.”

  The Chaos Marine turned its glowing gaze toward him, its massive frame moving with a deliberate menace. It ignored the fetid liquid dripping from its wounds, its bolter rising once more. Servius dove behind a nearby pillar as the Marine opened fire, the explosive rounds smashing into the stone and sending shards of rock flying in all directions.

  The concussive force rattled Servius’s teeth, but he didn’t let up. He darted to the side, repositioning as he reloaded his plasma pistol. The cell clicked into place with a faint hum, the weapon primed and ready. He could hear Adrasta moving in the distance, her footsteps light and deliberate as she worked to flank the Marine.

  The Chaos Marine moved forward, its massive boots crunching against the shattered debris littering the floor. It didn’t speak again—its focus was absolute, its intent clear. Kill. Destroy. Tear apart the intruders who dared to challenge its domain.

  Adrasta appeared from behind another pillar, her autogun trained on the back of the Marine’s exposed neck. She fired a single shot, the round striking the weak point just beneath the base of its helmet. It wasn’t enough to penetrate the armor fully, but the impact caused the Marine to stagger slightly, its head jerking forward.

  The Astartes let out a guttural snarl, spinning toward Adrasta with its bolter raised. Servius didn’t hesitate. He fired another plasma bolt, the shot striking the back of the Marine’s knee joint. The ceramite melted away, and the massive warrior dropped to one knee with a thunderous crash.

  “Now!” Servius barked, his voice echoing through the hall.

  Adrasta didn’t need to be told twice. She surged forward, her autogun spitting fire as she emptied the magazine into the Marine’s exposed flank. The bullets sparked off its armor, but some found their way into the weakened joints, drawing fresh blood.

  The Chaos Marine roared, its free hand reaching out with surprising speed. Adrasta barely had time to react as the gauntleted fingers closed around her autogun, wrenching the weapon from her grasp and tossing it aside like a child’s toy. The Marine rose to its feet, its wounded leg trembling but still functional, and swung its bolter in a vicious arc toward her head.

  Adrasta ducked low, the weapon missing her by inches as she rolled to the side. Servius was already moving, his plasma pistol aimed squarely at the Marine’s chest. He fired twice in rapid succession, the glowing bolts slamming into the corrupted Aquila emblazoned on the Astartes’s breastplate. The armor buckled under the assault, blood pouring from the smoldering wounds beneath.

  The Marine turned toward Servius, its crimson eyes burning with hatred. It dropped its bolter, the weapon clattering to the ground as it reached for the massive chainsword strapped to its back. The weapon roared to life with a bone-rattling snarl, its teeth spinning in a blur of brutal efficiency.

  Servius cursed under his breath, holstering his plasma pistol and drawing his knife in one smooth motion. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, its edge razor-sharp. He darted forward, closing the distance between himself and the Marine before the chainsword could fully swing toward him.

  The Marine brought the weapon down in a devastating arc, but Servius was already moving. He sidestepped the blow, the chainsword carving a deep trench into the stone floor where he had been standing moments before. Using the momentum of his dodge, Servius lunged upward, driving his knife into the gap between the Marine’s helmet and gorget.

  The blade bit deep, black liquid spraying from the wound as the Marine staggered back. Its roar of pain was guttural, almost animalistic, as it swung wildly with its free hand. Servius ducked under the blow, his movements fluid and precise as he twisted the knife deeper.

  Adrasta reappeared, having retrieved her autogun, and fired a single round into the exposed gap where Servius’s knife was buried. The bullet punched through the flesh and bone, and the Chaos Marine let out one final, gurgling snarl before collapsing to the ground.

  The hall fell silent save for the faint hum of Servius’s plasma pistol and the rasp of his own breathing. He stepped back, pulling his knife free from the Marine’s neck with a sharp tug.

  Adrasta approached cautiously, her gray eyes scanning the hall for any signs of reinforcements. “That... was too loud,” she said, her voice strained but steady.

  Servius nodded, his sharp green eyes locking onto the massive doors at the far end of the hall. “The rest of them heard that,” he said grimly. “We need to move.”

  Adrasta slung her autogun over her shoulder, her expression dark. “What’s the plan?”

  Servius sheathed his knife and reloaded his plasma pistol, the weapon’s hum rising as it powered up. “Keep moving. Stay ahead of them. And hope we don’t run into anything worse.”

  Adrasta smirked faintly, her scarred features twisting into something resembling humor. “Something worse than that?” She gestured toward the fallen Chaos Marine.

  Servius didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  The fortress seemed to stir around them, the oppressive silence giving way to the faint sound of distant movement—armored boots, guttural voices, the scraping of metal on stone. The Ebon Claws were coming.

  And this was only just beginning.

  https://youtu.be/n43CdQCxpfo?si=e9CCY4yEZ86lSiom