Mier, the Ebony Shadow unto the void of space, its engines r to life in bursts of crimson fire as it hurtled toward the distant stars. Ba his quarters, Kayvaan poured himself a gss of golden ale, froth spilling over the rim as he took a long sip. His chambers were sparse: a pair of worn sofas, a modest wine et, and a few scattered datapads. The simplicity suited him.

  Jacob, his think-tank director, lounged nearby with a cup of recaf in hand, idly stirring the steaming liquid. “Since you’ve agreed to this mission,” Jacob began, his voice calm but probing, “what’s your take on it?”

  Kayvaan chuckled, downing another mouthful of ale. “That’s an iing question. Not a smart one, but iing.” He gestured toward the gss. “Want some? Brewed on Agron Reach—fi drink this side of the Segmentum.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Recaf suits me just fine.”

  “Your loss,” Kayvaan replied, setting the gss down with a k. He leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You know, Jacob, we’re just like aries.”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow. “aries?”

  “Yeah,” Kayvaan said with a dry ugh. “Goldehers, sweet songs—fragile little creatures. Ba the Dark Age, miners used to send them into abandoned shafts. If the ary came back alive, it meant the air was safe. If not…” He shrugged. “Nobody ever asked the bird for its opinion, did they?”

  Jacob frowned, his cup fotten for a moment. “Even so, it’s the right thing to do. We have a duty to those Guardsmen. Every day, tless souls give their lives for the Imperium. If it’s our turn, we should accept it with honor.”

  Kayvaan smirked, swirling the frothy liquid in his gss. “Honor? You’re right, of course. Dying for the Imperium is lorious destiny, isn’t it?” He sighed, setting his gss down. “But not everyone shares that view. Take Elizabeth, for example. Did you notice she only brought her personal retihat’s because she doesn’t have anything else—no support, no resources. She’s been exiled to this fotten er of the gaxy, and now she has to rely on us.”

  “She’s not popur,” Jacob remarked, taking a slow sip of recaf. “The Sisters of Battle were never meant to be politis. Too pious, too unpromising. People mistrust zealots when it es to nuanced decisions.”

  “Exactly,” Kayvaan said bitterly. “She’s been discarded—left here to fade away while her peers jockey for power on Holy Terra. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But don’t be fooled—she’s using us. If this mission goes sideways, we’ll be the ones buried in the rubble while she finds her escape route. She’s expendable to the Inquisition, just like we’re expendable to her.”

  Jacob set down his cup, his voice measured. “A, she’s here. That ts for something. Maybe there’s still a glimmer of purpose driving her. Maybe this mission will give her the ce she o prove herself.”

  Kayvaan shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Hope, huh? Let’s just say I’d rather face a horde of greenskins than spend another hour with her breathing down my neck. If this missios her promoted—or, Emperor willing, reassigo the other side of the Segmentum—I’ll sider it a victory.”

  Jacob simply shrugged, his tone indifferent.“So, what’s your pn?” he asked.

  Kayvaan leaned ba his chair. “How’s Darius progressing?”

  Jairked faintly. “The d’s shaping up well—better than I expected. Holy, it’s as if he was born for the Astartes. The initial hypno-indoatio smoothly during transit, and most of his augmentations have been ied without plications. He’s cleared the physical evaluations, and he’s noting to his new ans through training.”

  “Then I’ll take over his training,” Kayvaan said firmly.

  Jacob’s brow arched. “You’re taking him to the battlefield already? Isn’t that too soon? He’s green as a Cata sapling. Darius was just another spoiled noble from Terra. He’s never killed, never fought xenos—certainly not Eldar Rangers.”

  Kayvaan draihe st of his ale, his expression dark. “I know the risks, but we ’t afford the luxury of gradual training. I’ve been studying the Ordos’ reports—we’re dealing with Aitoc Eldar. Their Rangers are outstanding even among their kind. Their usual strategy is infiltration, precision strikes, and prolonged harassment to cripple enemy lihis suppression isn’t their endgame—it’s the opening act. If my instincts are right, we’re on the brink of something far bigger than a skirmish.”

  Jacob’s frown deepened. “A war?”

  Kayvaan nodded grimly. “The winds are blowing, and the st of war is thick. Aitoc doesn’t move without cause. The Inquisition wants prisoners—alive. But you and I both know the Eldar won’t suffer su affront without retaliation. This will escate, and it won’t end quietly.”

  “You think the Aitoc will retaliate?”

  “They’ll have no choice,” Kayvaan said, his voice cold. “The Inquisition’s tactics are reckless as ever. Ahey drag back is subjected to unspeakable fates—dissected, interrogated, mind-scraped. To the Eldar, that’s sacrilege. Aitoc will strike back. Mark my words, it’ll be fire and blood.”

  Jacob remained silent, processing the weight of his words. “And the Inquisition?”

  “They’re blinded by their objective. They’ll keep pushing until the xenos sh out, and when that happens, it’s us who’ll pay the price.” Kayvaan shook his head. “We o prepare, strengthen our position. But don’t worry—I’m not throwing Darius into the jaws of Eldar Rangers. Not yet.” He paused. “What’s the status on the headquarters?”

  Jacob took the shift in topic as a cue. “I’ve shortlisted several systems. The Ferrum system stands out—it’s far more developed thahers. Agron Reach, specifically, has potential.”

  Kayvaan raised an eyebrow. “Agron Reach? It’s an agri-world. Too serene, don’t you think? The climate’s practically idyllic year-round.”

  Jacob expined patiently. “True, but the p has pockets of harsh terrain—enough to train initiates effectively. It also serves as a gateway to the Death World in the Reach system. If we o push harder, we send them there. For now, Agron Reach strikes the right baough enough te warriors, but trolled enough to avoid breaking them too early.”

  Kayvaan sidered it, then nodded. “Fair reasoning. Very well. We’ll pass Agron Rea two days—I’ll drop you there along with Meicus Enginseer Bell. The fortress-monastery’s stru will be your responsibility.”

  “You t on me, Lord Kayvaan.”

  “Good. Now, where’s Darius? I want to see his progress for myself.”

  Jacob sipped his recaf. “Last I checked, he was in the chapel.”

  Kayvaan found Darius kneeling before the gilded statue of the God-Emperor, his posture rigid with strain, his lips silently moving in prayer. “What are you doing, Darius?” Kayvaan asked, his voice level.

  Without turning, Darius replied, his voice strained. “Praying, my lord. Asking the God-Emperor to grarength… tive my sins… to help me endure.”

  Kayvaan exhaled, stepping closer. “Don’t look for too much, Darius. The Emperor has already given you a warrior’s body, the tools you need. Your struggles now? They’re not His—they’re yours. Learn to ehem yourself. The Emperor protects those who ot fend for themselves. We, the strong, stand because we must. Now, end your prayers. Rise.”