123 years after the fall of Graven.
A vast expanse of land lay between the two camps, blanketed in ash and scattered with burning trees.
On one side stood rows of white tents.
Figures clad in white armor moved among them, while others flew above the camp, patrolling the air in slow, deliberate patterns.
The opposing side stood bare.
No tents.
No shelter.
Instead, a single towering fiend dominated the ground.
It was clad in heavy black armor traced with red accents and gold ornaments covering it, its massive wings spread wide to cover the camp beneath.
The fiend knelt, its arm resting on a giant pommel of a great sword.
Its blade pierced the ash covered ground serving as the camp's gate.
Two enormous ram horns curved from its head.
Below the fiend, the fires of Abaddon burned without restraint. Countless fiends gathered beneath it were eagerly waiting to tear their enemies limb to limb but their commander's order was holding them back.
On the other side of the no man's land the Eldari war camp lay in disarray. countless Eldari paladins and spear men were wounded in the last confrontation. The infirmary lacked beds, forcing rest of the injured paladins to wait in their camps.
A lone tent stood at the corner of the camp.
Inside, a paladin with long brown hair held a book in his hands, its pages were old and rusted with time.
His flawless light blue skin, long pointed ears and elongated jaw marked him as Eldari, and the plain green shirt he wore traced the muscles of his biceps and torso.
The paladin's emerald green eyes were lost in the book, oblivious to the state of the camp around.
He desperately searched the papers for something, until a heavy, rough voice called out his name.
"Paladin Ananke!"
He turned around to see his chapter's commander standing in front of his camp.
Ananke placed the book back into his chest and stepped out of his tent, coming to a halt before his commander. His long blonde hair was neatly tied into a bun behind his head, and a thin scar ran from his forehead down to his upper eyelid. Eldari didn't age beyond thirty, yet his commander's dull yet flawless blue eyes carried the weight of countless campaigns.
His commander met his gaze and said, "Come with me."
Ananke followed him into the chapter's command tent, accompanied by five other paladins.
They entered the strategy room one after another, in the center of the room a big table stood, on it a map of the No man's land and it's surroundings rested.
Six Eldari stood waiting inside, arguing with each other.
"No I cannot! I've sent half of my knights to aid you in infirmary, if I send more our Arcane barrier will be weakened." A tall Eldari clad in blue armor spoke, as he slammed his gauntlet on the table.
An Eldari with blonde hair, exhausted, she replied. "I understand. However, more than half of our healers were killed in the breach."
She swallowed her words as the cohort entered.
Ananke recognized them. They were the camp's leaders.
Each one of them carried a little signet on their shoulders defining their role.
One of the paladins began speaking.
"Why is our presence required here?"
The commander addresses the paladins with a cold expression.
"We want you to infiltrate the enemy camp as cultists," Paladins exchanged confused glances, all except Ananke. He was lost in thoughts.
"We want you to abandon your posts and infiltrate the enemy camp as cultist refugees," the commander said. He paused.
"And then Graven."
Ananke's eyes widened as he heard the words spoken by his commander.
A chance, he thought.
Images of his wife and her hand resting on her stomach flashed in his mind.
"Why?" Ananke asked.
"To investigate the World Crack," the Eldari with long black hair and striking green eyes clad in blue armor, the Captain of Arcane Knights replied.
"We believe it can be closed."
He continued, his tone calm.
"It was created by forcing tiny fractures in the fabric that separates realms. We believe those fractures were formed by channeling concentrated arcane energy through minute pores in that fabric. If our hypothesis proves correct, we may be able to close it."
Ananke nodded in agreement.
"You will leave the camp by tomorrow night," the commander said.
"There must be no place in your heart or soul for your faith. Enemy generals can see through deception easily." He paused.
"What you are asking us to do is heresy commander," a paladin with short black hair standing beside Ananke replied stepping forward "you cannot ask us to abandon our faith".
"Would you rather have your friends die for your faith?" commander replied calmly.
"Tell me, Would you let your home, your plane be defiled by them?"
The short haired paladin stepped back, with visible anger in his face.
The commander looked down at the table with a heavy gaze for a moment, then raised his gaze, fixing it on the paladins.
"The lure of greed is strong. You must follow them, act like them, be them but do not forget yourself."
He held their stare.
"You may be forgotten. You may be named traitor."
"If the cost of saving this world is our faith then so be it."
A few days earlier, unexpected news had reached Ananke. It shattered his resolve. His wife had been abducted by the forces of Archdevil Vorax.
Ananke searched for every possible way to bring her back. When none presented itself, he resolved to travel to Abaddon and find her himself. He knew his commander would never allow such a reckless act, and so he began searching in secret for a way to reach that plane.
However, can he abandon his faith? Can he follow the heretic and still stay the same? Will she still look at him the same way?
The Next evening
Ananke and other paladins were ordered to leave with their armor and weapons to not raise any suspicion among enemy.
The five paladins posed as deserters.
They set up a temporary camp a short distance from the right wing of the colossal fiend. Paladins reached the outskirts of the enemy camp by the dawn. They were fatigued, each longing to sleep.
As they prepared to rest, one of them noticed movement in the dark.
An approaching patrol.
It was time. If they valued their mission and their lives, they had to play their roles well.
They stood waiting for the enemy patrol to arrive.
A Few minutes have passed, the approaching patrol was visible clearly to Ananke.
The leading fiend wore black armor, adorned with a few pieces of jewelry around his neck and gold braces on his arms. He carried two scimitars at his sides, his black hair brushed his shoulder and face bore scars from the last confrontation between their forces. Two more fiends followed behind him, similarly armored and draped in jewelry.
Their red skin, twisted horns and webbed wings stirred revulsion among the paladins, but none allowed it to show.
The leading fiend stepped forward, the blade of his scimitar traced Ananke's throat while he tapped the other one against his armor.
"What do we have here?" he paused.
"I haven't killed an Eldari in days," He smiled faintly.
Ananke remained composed despite the tension.
"We mean no harm," he replied evenly.
"Oh," the fiend's eyes lingered, unsettling the paladins. "Then why are you here?"
"Our forces are thin. Morale is breaking," Ananke paused.
"We would rather join you."
The faint smile on his face dropped, his black eyes conveyed his disappointment.
"Most deserters shake, why aren't you?" fiend said , his second scimitar tapping against his armor rhythmically.
"If you intend to kill me, do it." The fiend's eyes widened slightly at the response.
He stood there in silence, the rhythmic tapping of his scimitar echoing around them.
Before he could act, the second fiend behind him spoke.
"Don't do it," His voice carried warning. "Khrane."
Khrane turned sharply, locking eyes with him.
The second fiend stepped back, a flicker of fear crossing his face.
He remained expressionless. "Why should I let them live?"
The second fiend replied.
"You don't want to be bound and used as an experiment by the Archduke, do you?"
Khrane remained silent without any answer but his eyes remained fixed on his partner.
The second fiend instructed the paladins to follow them.
Few Days later.
Ananke stood within the fortress of Graven.
How low the city of Graven has fallen, he thought.
The weathered stone walls were lined with corpses, some fresh, others rotting, hanged to terrify. Poles impaled with corpses laid in between the houses. Crows circled the city.
Fiends and cultists now populated the city.
He was surprised to find many Eldari among them when he arrived. Deserters, exiles, heretics all had sought refuge, and the forces of Abaddon had provided it.
Ananke thought he could keep his faith.
I will not fall, he thought.
However, his belief in himself and his faith were challenged the very second he stepped into Graven.
A tall, pale ghostly figure covered in a black robe and draped in bones and blood stood in front of them. The hood covered his face-- only his mouth was visible, the Herald of terror.
He was responsible for the fall of Erenare.
The herald looked at the initiates.
Ananke felt a chill run down his spine when herald met his gaze.
As a part of initiation, the initiates were forced to eat the meat of their people. If the initiates declined— their beheaded body was paraded, Herald of terror made sure of it.
The short haired paladin was the first one, and he complied rather quickly.
Ananke on the other hand, his hands were shaking, legs froze.
This cannot be true, he thought.
And he moved forward, his trembling hands took the meat placed in front of them.
He could feel the texture of the meat and holding it in his hand only reminded him of his friends and family.
"May the Lady of light protect me," he muttered under his breath.
He stood there motionless, with conflicting feelings he swallowed it.
A momentary gag followed.
The herald of terror noticed it.
Silence surrounded him. Ananke expected punishment, instead he heard a oddly comforting voice.
"Afraid not my child," Herald addressed Ananke while walking towards him.
Ananke grew uneasy with every step herald took.
"The first steps of your journey towards terror may appear disgusting," He paused while putting his arm around Ananke's shoulder. "with every step towards terror you shall grow strong enough to fulfill your promise." He spoke softly with his raspy voice.
Ananke's body froze as he felt the herald's arm around his shoulder, he swallowed it completely.
Ananke was allowed to keep his weapons and armor, but they had been corrupted. The blessings of their gods had been replaced by hunger. His greatsword yearned for flesh and blood. His armor demanded the blood of his enemies.
He recoiled from his armor and blade.
Will it be me next? he thought.
He imagined himself slaughtering his former friends and comrades, feasting upon their flesh— fresh tender juicy flesh of his former friends.
The texture of the meat he ate filled his mind. It was tender, juicy and a bit salty.
I wonder how my wife would taste, he thought.
He bit his tongue, his face went pale.
NO!, everything in his body screamed.
"I swear to stand between the innocent and malice.
Fear shall not guide my blade, nor ease my judgment.
In my darkest time, this oath is mine to keep."
He recited his oath,
but for the first time it felt hollow…