II.

Death was surprisingly bright. And painful. White-hot orbs flared in their vision, accompanied by a deep thrumming noise. This was certainly not the golden light of the God-Emperor, guiding them to sit by His throne in whatever kingdom laid beyond the mortal coil. Perhaps their soul truly was lost, doomed to some existence beyond the promise of an afterlife. Perhaps this was the price.

“She’s awake, isn’t she?”

The voice reached them as if from a great distance, muffled and indistinct. They stirred, shuddering with pain.

“This is not the foolish mon-keigh’s fated demise, I assure you. But the forces she unleashed may have left scars that we cannot see-”

A second voice with the signature lilt of an Aeldari. It was familiar to them, and they tried to move towards it. A great burst of pain stopped them, and they groaned with the effort of it.

“-Oh don’t give me that shit, Eldar! She just said something. You hear me, Horncastle? You’re in real deep shit, so wake up!”

Horncastle’s eyes fluttered open. As it turns out, this was not, in fact, some bleak purgatory between the afterlives that their soul was set to wander for eternity. It wasn’t even an afterlife at all, but a ship’s infirmary. The bright, searing lights above were lumen-strips, and the thrum the burn of engines. Sub-warp, from a particular vibration that accompanied the noise. They were laid out in a bunk, a series of wires and tubes feeding into their arms and hooked up to-

Horncastle stared down at their body for a moment. Had it always been as such?

Something came into their view – a hand, pushed into their face, snapping fingers. 

“Hey! Rise and shine, asshole!”

Horncastle flinched, blinking blearily as they looked to the figures standing over their bed. The first, with her hand in their face, was a human woman in battered green Militarum-issue fatigues. A rosette hung from her neck, the badge of office that denoted an Inquisitor. Her blond hair was askew, and her expression was absolutely thunderous. A spark of memory – shared operations in the Asphodine system, years ago. The other was the source of the Aeldari voice that Horncastle had heard – a woman of that tall, lithe and imperious alien species, her blond hair neatly tied back, and a distinctive smirk on her lips. Her body was swathed in the shifting patterns of a cameleoline cloak overtop deep blue armor plates. A Ranger, judging by the long rifle slung over her back. Again, there was a flicker of memory. A deal brokered with the Aliatoc Craftworld, and a heist of Necron technology…

“L-Lux? E’lara?” Horncastle mumbled, reaching up haltingly to rub at bleary eyes with their organic hand.

“No, I’m the High Abbess of the Sororitas, sent by Lord Guilliman himself to kiss your wounds better.” The edge of sarcasm in Lux’s reply could have cut flesh. “And that’s the Queen Farseer of wherever-the-fuck Craftworld.”

E’lara’s smirk widened just a touch even as she rolled her eyes. “Asuryani do not have queens, blunt-ear.”

Lux leaned forwards, pulling one hand back only to jab her other forwards, pointing an accusing finger at Horncastle.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Eliza. What sort of shit did you get neck-deep into now?”

Horncastle started, tilting their head. “Eliza?”

“Yes, Elizabeth fucking Horncastle! Shining example of the lunatics that the Ordo Xenos call Inquisitors! Are you playing stupid with me now-”

“-A moment,” E’lara interrupted, laying a hand on Lux’s arm. Some unspoken conversation passed between the two women as their gazes met, and Lux’s expression softened just a touch. She relented – at least for the time being, before E’lara continued.

“Now, Inquisitor Horncastle – I’ve a proposition for you; We shall tell you what we know of your current predicament, and you may provide context to that story. Considering the not insignificant fact that we saved your life, I expect the context to have no omissions.” That smirk never once left E’lara’s face as she continued. “Do we have an accord?”

Horncastle nodded, numb.

“Your colleague here received a message by way of that grisly bauble of yours-”

“-His name is Spooky,” Lux corrected, indignant. 

E’lara sighed. “The ‘Spooky’, yes. It informed us that you were imperilled – yet again, I might add. Provided us coordinates to an uninhabited, barren rock. So pray tell, what sort of predicament have you deposited yourself into this time, Horncastle?”

Horncastle paused, squinting as they tried to recall. “It’s… fuzzy. Hard to remember. Something… summoned me there? Called me? I can’t… Tell me, did you find anything on that world?”

“Convenient,” Lux raised an eyebrow, her voice dubious. “No, the moon was dead. Augurs picked up nothing outside of your shuttle. You said something called you there, Eliza?”

“Something did, yes.” Horncastle nodded. “But… There was nothing on the moon? You’re sure? No underground structures, no life signs at all?”

Lux shrugged. “I brought a fucking destroyer. Landed a dozen Valkyries full of Ordo Stormtroopers just to make sure nothing was waiting for us. I think if something was there, it’d have taken a swing. It’d have eaten a cyclonic torpedo if it did, but…” She leans closer, her eyes searching. “… Why, what were you expecting?”

Horncastle’s eyes were drawn down to their augmetic left arm as the memories of their visit to the moon stirred. They were hazy, obscured, as if trying to recall a half-remembered dream. A voice in their mind, a chittering. Green glow, and a skull-like face, silver and red, leering over them.

“… Necrons. A tomb-complex on that moon, I’m certain of it.”

Both E’lara and Lux stilled at that – the Inquisitor glancing over to the Aeldari, whose eyes narrowed. Lux looked back to Horncastle, her own expression dubious.

“Like I said, we didn’t detect anything with a destroyer in orbit and a hundred boots on the ground. If there were any Necrons on the moon, they’d have opened up on us.”

“The shorn-souled are rather protective of their domains,” E’lara agreed. “It is known. They are not given to displays of stealth and subterfuge, especially not in concealing their presence.”

Lux smirked. “More the domain of your kind, Aeldari.”

“Hush.”

Horncastle squinted in confusion, shaking their head slowly as they scoured their memories. The memory of Necrons was clear – but muddled. Hazy. There was a name, just beyond the edge of memory, half-remembered…

“They were there,” Horncastle insisted, struggling to sit up. “You know I’m not making this up. We’ve seen activity – multiple dynasties, all within the Pilgrim Sector. I mean – Pekhet!”

“Harvest,” Lux corrected them coolly. “It’s still an Imperial world, Eliza. And I don’t know what to tell you – the moon was cold. Do you remember a name? A livery? Anything?”

“… Red on silver.”

“Novokh.” E’lara murmured, her smirk dimming ever-so-slightly. “Butchers who cloak themselves in the guise of warriors. World-burners. If they were to descend upon your worlds, it would be slaughter.”

Lux scowled, jabbing a finger into Horncastle’s chest. They winced – the flesh there was tender. “I know how you like to operate, Eliza. You better not have cut any fucking deals with them, understand? That’s a step too far, even for me.”

“Your colleague is correct. Making compact with the Novokh would be a fool’s errand at best, even by your lofty standards, Mon-keigh.”

Horncastle blanched. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, E’lara. I… don’t believe I have, no. The technology I obtained was from… less friendly exchanges, let’s say.”

“We stole it,” E’lara added proudly.

Horncastle looked to Lux, pointing at E’lara to emphasise their point. Lux just rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t given me a lot to go on… This is going to bite me in the ass, but… Fuck it, I’m satisfied. For now. But so help me Throne, if I have to bail your ass out of the fire one more time, I’ll put it on a pyre, get me?”

Horncastle nodded vigorously. “I owe you one, Lux.”

“You owe me like thirty, at least. And you’re not off the hook, either. E’lara? Don’t let her out of your sight. If she tries anything stupid, shoot her.”

The ranger sketched a graceful bow, her smirk widening. “Your wish is my command, Lux of the Imperium.”

Horncastle could have sworn they caught Lux’s expression softening once more, but they said nothing. Instead, they grinned, sitting up fully and attempting to swing their legs off the side of the bed. A flare of pain reminded them that they were, in fact, still recovering, and they winced.

“… Right. We’ll seed some probes and listening posts about that moon, but for now, I’ve pressing matters. The defense of Nyx-Beta for one.”

“The Astropaths received word on that front,” Lux replied, a deadpan expression on her face at Horncastle’s premature attempt to stand. “The Raptors and Storm Guard are marshalling a strike force – heading into some place called ‘Eremus’.” She produced a dataslate, handing it over. “Think you’ll like this.”

Indeed, Horncastle’s eyes went wide at the preliminary orbital scan readings, and they practically jittered with excitement, letting out a repeated hymn of ‘fascinating, absolutely fascinating…’

Lux smirked, making for the infirmary door. “I’ll leave you alone with that, then. Remember, Eliza. You owe me.”

Inquisitor Elizabeth Horncastle looked up, the excitement in her face softening. “I won’t forget, Lux. And… Thank you, my friend.”

“Kiss my ass, Horncastle.”