"Follow me, xenos."
Grey's voice was blunt, stripped of any courtesy, as he turned and strode ahead.
Saal cast a glance at Qin Mo, but upon seeing no reaction, he simply followed Grey toward the waiting transport craft.
The corridors they passed through buzzed with tension. Every soldier they encountered paused to stare.
Some instinctively gripped their weapons tighter. Others watched in silence, eyes filled with a cocktail of curiosity, suspicion, and veiled contempt.
This was the first time any of them had seen an actual xenos in the flesh.
They didn't know exactly what kind of alien he was, but one thing was clear, he was not human.
Saal revelled in the attention. To him, their stares were not of hatred, but of awe.
In his mind, he was a noble among savages, their tiny, primitive minds struggling to comprehend his beauty and grace.
"What magnificent creature is this?" they must surely be thinking. "How does he exude such grace, such nobility?"
A smile curled across his lips as he followed Grey into the waiting transport craft, each step a performance. He settled into his seat with exaggerated poise, lowering himself with slow, deliberate elegance.
Grey fastened his restraints, then turned to his alien passenger.
"Strap in. Use the restraints beside you, then pull the safety harness down—"
"Do you take me for a mon-keigh?" Saal interrupted with a scoff, his voice dripping disdain. He refused to move, letting his hands rest lightly on the armrests as if the very notion of restraint were beneath him.
The transport took off, its engines roaring as it detached from the docking clamps and began its rapidly descent toward the planet's surface.
The craft shuddered violently as it hit atmospheric turbulence, rattling within the confines of Talon II's upper jet streams.
Despite the turbulence, Saal remained perfectly stable, adjusting his posture instinctively to every jarring shift.
Grey found this mildly impressive.
His helmet's augur display began scanning Saal's physiology.
[Cardiovascular activity: elevated, yet steady.]
[Heart rate: abnormally rapid, almost pathological, by human standards.]
Saal noticed Grey watching him and turned his emerald eyes toward him.
"Your forces employ teleportation technology," he said suddenly. "What mechanism powers it?"
Grey remained silent.
"You are not like the standard human troopers. I have observed the armor of your warriors, it is different. Are there many like you?"
Grey still did not answer.
Saal's expression darkened.
"Give me something," he demanded, irritation seeping into his tone.
"I fought for your Resistance. I waded through filth in the sewers, enduring the stench of mon-keigh waste, all to shepherd hundreds of your children to safety."
Grey tilted his head, expression unreadable behind the helmet.
"So?"
Saal's eye twitched.
"Perhaps you do not grasp the significance," he snapped. "For your kind, wallowing in waste may be commonplace. But for me, it was a torment worse than death. Do you understand what I am saying? I made a great sacrifice!"
Grey shrugged. "I was told xenos like you eat garbage to survive."
Saal's jaw dropped.
"No, no, no. Of course not! Well… maybe some. But—"
He paused, realizing Grey was deliberately toying with him.
The mon-keigh had never intended to answer his questions in the first place.
Saal exhaled sharply, he folded his arms in silence, refusing to speak further until the transport landed.
The transport shuddered as it neared its landing zone, inertial dampeners compensating for the rapid descent.
A moment later, the craft touched down with a heavy thunk, the rear ramp beginning its descent, revealing the icy plains of Talon II's surface.
Grey rose from his seat and gestured toward the exit.
"You're free to go. Consider it repayment for aiding the loyalists."
Saal narrowed his eyes. "That's it?"
"That's it." Grey nodded. Then he raised both hands, the rotary barrels of his wrist-mounted scatter-lasers spun to life.
"Unless you'd prefer a duel?"
Saal had no interest in fighting, but the insult still stung.
"Shame, mon-keigh. Shame for your rudeness."
Then his voice shifted, melodic and cold.
"But before I leave, I shall give you a parting gift."
Grey raised a brow.
Saal reached beneath his cloak, drawing forth an object wrapped in soft cloth. Unveiling it, he revealed a weathered, ancient map.
He tapped a marked location in the southern polar ice fields.
"The leader of the Cult of the Lord of Wisdom, the so-called 'Governor' hides beneath these glaciers."
Grey's eyes narrowed. His helmet's scanner swept the map, transmitting coordinates directly to Qin Mo.
"Appreciate it," he said flatly.
Saal waved a dismissive hand.
"Do not thank me. Feel ashamed. Feel shame for your rudeness."
Then, without another word, he turned and sprinted into the distance.
In less than three seconds, he had vanished from sight.
Grey scratched the back of his head before activating his vox-link.
"Are we being too harsh on him? He just gave us the exact location of our target."
Qin Mo's voice was cold.
"Do not assume goodwill. The Aeldari do nothing without purpose. It is just as likely that assassinating this 'Governor' was their mission all along, and they are simply using us to complete it."
Grey exhaled. "Fair enough. What's our next move?"
"We eliminate him. And this time, I will be there personally."
....
Talon II – The Polar Fortress
Beneath the glacial wastelands, an ancient fortress lay entombed within the ice, its obsidian walls forged in an era long forgotten. The cold bit deep, seeping into stone and steel alike, but within, the air was thick with the acrid scent of incense and burning sacrifices.
Every corridor teemed with zealots, warriors clad in patchwork armor, their faces obscured by ritualistic masks daubed with esoteric sigils. The Cult of the Lord of Wisdom stood ready, their unwavering devotion fixed upon one figure alone.
Archon, the Cult of the Lord of Wisdom's supreme ruler, and the nominal Governor of Talon I and Talon II.
As his forces braced for the inevitable Imperial assault, Archon remained deep within the fortress' heart, standing in a dimly lit chamber.
Where the veil between realities had thinned to breaking. Before him, a ritual unfolded, the air alive with the unearthly murmur of the Warp.
At the center, a robed sorcerer chanted incantations, his voice rising in a fevered crescendo, each syllable chanted in tongues not meant for mortal throats.
Ancient, clawed hands hovered above a black stone sarcophagus, its surface etched with glyphs that pulsed with malevolent energy.
Within lay a girl, her red hair a stark contrast to the pallor of her lifeless skin, her delicate features frozen in an eerily serene smile.
Even in death, she radiated an undeniable purity, an innocence now defiled beyond redemption.
She had once been Archon's daughter.
Now, she was the vessel.
"Omniscient, all-knowing Ky'ei!" the sorcerer cried. "Seer of the Lord of Wisdom, the prophet of mortals! Archon, sovereign of Talon, calls to you! We have sacrificed hundreds of thousands in your name! With this vessel, we welcome your descent!"
A moment of silence followed.
The dead girl's body began to twitch.
The stillness shattered as her body spasmed violently, bones snapping and sinew twisting.
Her arms and face twisted, blackened blue scales and feathers sprouting from her once-perfect skin.
Archon watched in pained silence.
He had given everything for this moment.
He had burned millions of innocent lives as offerings.
And he had sacrificed his own daughter to the abyss, offering her as the perfect vessel.
But at last, it had worked.
The girl's body rose from the sarcophagus, no longer human, no longer bound by mortality.
Her form had become grotesque, a monstrous, unholy fusion of bipedal avian and humanoid, towering over the assembled cultists.
Feathers of midnight and blue rustled as it stretched its malformed limbs, its talons clicking against the stone.
Where once had been eyes, now burned twin pits of luminous madness, gazing upon the world with a knowledge so deep, so incomprehensible, it could drive lesser minds to ruin.
She was something else now.
Something vast. Something terrible.
A daemon.
Ky'ei had arrived.
The entity surveyed its surroundings, then turned its piercing gaze upon Archon.
"Faithful mortal," it whispered, voice like a thousand overlapping echoes. "What is it you seek?"
Archon stepped forward, his lips curling into a smirk even as tears welled in his eyes.
"I need your guidance. I must hear truth and prophecy from your lips. With your wisdom, I shall reign supreme in the great games of intrigue and power."
Ky'ei nodded.
"You may ask me anything. And I shall speak only the truth."
Archon laughed, but tears streamed down his face.
"I have sacrificed my rank. I have sacrificed my daughter. And at last—"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Ky'ei suddenly burst into laughter.
Archon's joy twisted into confusion.
"Why do you laugh?"
The daemon beak twisted into something resembling amusement.
"Summoning me is a complex process…" the daemon mused. "But it does not require your daughter."
A heartbeat of silence.
Archon's eyes widened in horror.
"What?"
"Any mortal host strong enough would have sufficed."
Archon turned to the sorcerer. The man was grinning. A grin of betrayal. Of triumph.
Then, Ky'ei offered a final, mocking revelation.
"Once a daemon enters realspace, we cannot lie unless you ask for our true name."
Realization crashed into Archon.
He had been deceived.
The knowledge clawed at his sanity, a truth more agonizing than any blade. He had not needed to give her.
He had not needed to... A choked sound escaped his throat as he lunged for his vox-transmitter, snarling through gritted teeth.
"SEIZE THE SORCERER! Subject him to every torment this world can provide!"
Guards rushed in, dragging the sorcerer away.
The sorcerer laughter rang through the halls, a sound so filled with madness and victory that it sent a shudder through even the most hardened zealots.
But it no longer mattered.
The daemon had come. The ritual was complete.
And the Ky'ei had already won.