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Fanfiction - Heinrix in the Imperial Guard - Owlcatober prompt "Ruins"

After five years in the Imperial Guard, Heinrix thought there wasn't much that could surprise him - but there is a first time for everything, especially when two agents of the Holy Inquisition requisition him and his squad to follow them into the unknown...

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@owlcatober: This is my part for the prompt "Ruins" (sorry I am one day late)

The humid air was filled with the squelching sounds of boots trying to escape deep mud as muscles fought against gravity. Water continued to pour from the sky, soaking armour and clothing underneath, on its way down to collect inside their footwear.

Heinrix suppressed a curse that was on the tip of his tongue. Discomfort was no excuse to break the silence they were ordered to keep. After marching for hours in heavy rain, wet clothing clung to his body and cooled him uncomfortably, but more concerning was a slight pressure in his head. It wasn't painful yet, but a headache could affect his concentration and combat abilities.

As a biomancer and therefore able to influence living bodies, it would be easy for him to solve this - but he chose to conserve his energy, trusting his strong intuition that he would need it later. Although he was nearly constantly on the lookout for pursuers and hadn't seen any so far, he had the strange feeling that he was being watched.

In addition, he rather refrained from making the comrade behind him unnecessarily nervous, seeing that it was one of the commissar's tasks to observe him for any “unusual” signs that could hint at Heinrix becoming a danger to them all, and to deal with him quickly. Of course, the interpretation of what these entailed was ultimately up to the one holding the gun that was pointing at him.

Suffer not the mutant to live…

Yes, he was a witch, a psyker, cursed with unnatural powers that he could draw from the warp - the antagonist of the material world, at the cost of being in constant danger of succumbing to the evil entities lurking there - risking not just his body and mind, but his very soul.

An anathema that could only be excused by his usefulness.

His life was worth nothing.

But he wanted to live.

And really, he couldn't complain about the weather. The conditions weren't ideal, but he had also been through worse. For a brief moment, memories surfaced; a labyrinth of dark and dimly lit places, the air thick with the scent of wax, vellum and dust, accompanied by an almost tangible sense of desperation. From back then, in the Scholastica Psykana, where he had been trained and sanctioned as psyker, locked away from humanity until he had learned and proven in trials of life and death that he was in control of himself and his powers to a place even worse, where he had to muster all his patience and willpower to not succumb to the insanity of bureaucracy, buried alive by endless stacks of paperwork and depression.

While he was eager to leave the past behind, it made him appreciate being outside, even if it was freezing under a cloud-filled, grey sky, feeling the water dripping from his skin, the fresh smell of wet earth and resin from the trees around him.

It was probably the closest he would ever come to feeling free - although he knew it couldn't be further from the truth.

Still, there was a certain… strangeness… that was bothering him without him being able to name it. Something felt wrong. With his thoughts turning to the sensations of his surroundings, he finally realised - it was the silence. The humming and chirping sounds of insects and birds had decreased the more they had pressed forward. Drawing only a small amount of power from the warp to activate his supernatural sense, he probed his surroundings, searching for the faint glow of souls and heartbeats of life around him. He had been right - apart from his comrades, there was indeed less density of life, although the forest hadn't changed noticeably.

Was it really just the rain?

Following a sudden suspicion, he investigated further and focused his mind and powers on his body, with the intention of healing his headache, but the pressure remained.

“Something I should know, Heinrix?” He heard a whisper from behind.

Commissar Comray must have felt the icy chill that had enveloped him, a physical manifestation of his powers, that quickly disappeared now that he had stopped and they had marched ahead. Luckily, he was one of the more seasoned commissars without a nervous finger on the trigger. Heinrix's very presence, after serving more than five years with him in the Imperial Guard, was proof of this.

The woman ahead briefly turned her head towards him, her features almost hidden beneath a deep hood that cast dark shadows on her face.

“Anything?”

Heinrix cleared his throat. He hadn't spoken for hours, and his tongue felt dry.

“Fewer animals than before, and also a psychic pressure that is getting stronger.”

“Noticed, have you? Data indicates that we are on the right track, then.”

“Are we under psychic attack?” Comray asked quietly.

“Not yet, just a… presence, but I don't sense any other psykers around,” Heinrix whispered back.

Long after their brief conversation, the woman's words echoed in his mind. The right way… to wherever it was they were searching for. Not that they had shared this information, or anyone would dare to ask them for more. He had seen his comrades' reaction when they had first learned who they had been tasked to accompany on this mission - it was the same look he knew so very well. Only that in his case, he was usually the one who elicited fear and contempt in those present.

He was no stranger to fear; he had been living on the edge for over a decade, ever since his powers had emerged when he was still a child, knowing that every word, every gesture, every thought could be his end and dooming everyone else with him. It was a weakness he couldn't allow himself to feel, could be the invitation for a dark entity from the warp to take possession of him.

Whatever the reason for this endeavour, it was important enough for two agents of the Holy Inquisition to convince the Colonel to send Heinrix with a squad on the way with them - right when the attack in the city had started. He had to remind himself that there had to be a good reason that they were currently marching through an almost serene forest, while leaving the fight and those they were meant to protect behind.

The Inquisition… he had heard things, of course. They all had. No one knew specifics, as most people didn't dare to even whisper about anything related to it. Afraid it would inevitably draw its eye on them, sentencing them to a fate worse than death. Heinrix surmised this was probably the point - fear, especially of punishment, was a potent way to keep people in line. He had seen examples of this throughout his life, right up to his service in the Imperial Guard.

Eventually, the rain had stopped and, with the falling temperature of the approaching night, had been replaced by dense fog. Soon they reached a small clearing with the ruins of a formerly large building. Pressing forward through the meadow littered with stones of various sizes, they saw that the front and parts of the roof were missing.

The psychic pressure in Heinrix's head had grown stronger, and while it was still not painful, it resembled a static buzzing at the back of his mind.

The agents signalled the squad to stop.

“Here it is.”

The lieutenant ordered them to secure the area, and Heinrix proceeded to investigate what was left of the interior, following the Inquisition representatives further inside. As if they knew exactly what they were looking for, they headed straight behind a broken altar toward a wooden door at the back.

The building had likely been a church a long time ago. There were still statues of the God-Emperor lining the sides, looming over the orphaned holy place - dark stone giants dressed in robes, revealing only the skull under the hood. Whatever material had been used for its construction, it had withstood the effect of time and weather and whatever had forcefully destroyed the building better than the rest. Heinrix felt in awe of their presence - it was like a visual representation of the God-Emperor holding vigil over mankind, ensuring humanity would endure all hardship.

Who had dared to desecrate this place?

Not that he was an expert, but it seemed like an explosion had caused most of the damage, leaving the building open and undefended to nature and weather. On the parts of the floor that were still intact and not overgrown, he could also see darkened areas and even bones - clean but charred, likely the leftover meal of animals.

It was getting dark - soon it would be night, and thanks to the urgency of their mission, they didn't have any suitable equipment for it. No bright lumen to illuminate their position, no tech that would allow them to see in the dark. They were here without knowing what was waiting for them, and he felt severely unprepared. Not that this had been the first time. As always, he would try to make the best of it.

“Status!”

The tense command came from behind. The lieutenant had caught up with him, his high-pitched voice betraying the confidence he had tried to convey by keeping his hands behind his back. He was nervous - even more than usual when he was talking to Heinrix.

“All clear, Sir.”

“Hmm”, he said after glancing around at the broken parts from the statues, walls and the destroyed roof distributed on the ground. “Looks like a good place for cover.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant.” He heard the man, who had only introduced himself as “Agent Kovac”, calling Heinrix's superior to his side. Although Heinrix had remained at his position, he could hear the agent's words clearly enough.

“We will proceed further inside. Hold your ground and do not follow us.”

“Yes, Master Kovac.”

Shortly afterwards, they met up with the rest of the guard who had finished their quick sweep. They had been ordered to only use their short-range vox in an emergency, to remain hidden as long as possible and to take cover in the church.

Placing his attention back to Heinrix, he added, “Have a look around, you know… with that… thing you do…”

Heinrix noticed that his superior always tried to avoid using his name. He was well aware that even those who did had other reasons than friendship or seeking a deeper connection. It simply was the only name he had left, the only tie to his former life that had remained. He lived on, not just with the curse of his sorcerous soul, but also as a disgraced and exiled former noble. No one had deemed it necessary to give him a new last name.

Maybe it was appropriate. He was alone. Why would he carry a name that tied him to a family, a dynasty or a house, when he was no longer part of them?

“Doing his thing” probably saved his life. Suddenly, he felt blazing bright souls closing in on them with incredible speed. Heinrix was stunned for a second - such bright souls… meant usually psykers, like him. Breaking free of his freeze, he had just shouted “Ambush” in his vox-bead and let himself fall behind a large block near the front of the church when a shot grazed his shoulder pauldron. If he hadn't moved, it could have already been his end.

He felt his heart hammering in his chest and heard blood rushing in his ears while the adrenaline worked in his body. Immediately, there was movement all around him. Some of his comrades who hadn't already taken cover inside the church and were still out or closer to the outside like him, now quickly jumped behind stones and returned fire with their Las-guns in the direction the shots might have come from. Rapid flashes of light pierced the white veil of fog as the daylight began to fade.

“I count 5 of them. Potentially psykers,” he voxed quickly.

With his witchsight, which wasn't really seeing but sensing the warp presence of the souls around him, he ascertained that the attackers attempted to surround them as they drew near. The sound of engines got louder until he could see the disturbances in the fog from their movements, but hardly the attackers themselves.

They were unnaturally, no, inhumanly fast, too fast to spot more than a fleeting glance of unfamiliar shapes and a mix of colours. It was a blur of metal grey and vibrant yellow. They appeared quickly out of nowhere, attacked with their own las-like weapons and retreated in an instant.

With his own pistol gripped tightly in both hands, he quickly realised he had no chance. He fired a few shots of focused light in the dense milky air, but it would have required a miracle to make him hit the enemy. He was too slow. Even his comrades, who were far better marksmen, had missed so far.

Heinrix's strength lay elsewhere. But while he could easily spot the surrounding souls, both the faint ones from his comrades and the bright beacons of the enemies, the psychic powers that he could unleash upon his enemies also needed a line of sight. He tried to focus his mind on them, but they slipped from his grasp as they vanished from his view.

Stone vaporised and sent a spray of dust and small pebbles flying as the hits came closer and closer to his position. If the enemies were psychic, as he assumed, they could sense him and his comrades just like he noticed them.

He couldn't affect the attackers because they were too fast - or rather, he was too slow. So that was what he had to change.

Still hiding behind a part that had broken down from the God-Emperor's statue next to him, he focused his will and intent on himself while drawing the power from the warp. Icy air enveloped him, frost coated his armour and clothing and his immediate surroundings. He could see the vapour of his breath, but also so much more now. With his enhanced eyesight and perception, he now witnessed scenes unfolding before him as if time itself were dilated.

He could see the trail of a frag grenade that made its way from their ranks through the dense white veil, clearing the area of the fog. There were no wounded or dead bodies visible, but the approach wasn't a bad one. If only they had more.

“Grenade!” It suddenly sounded panicked over vox. In an instant, he pressed himself even lower into cover, trying to make himself as small as possible, shielding his head with his armoured arms. And then all hell broke loose - he heard the detonation, followed by the sounds of impact in stone and flak armour, the screams of the wounded. He felt shrapnel entering his body before he noticed the pain.

A rain of dust and stone fell on Heinrix, but also hung in the air. The now visible area revealed for a few seconds the death and destruction on the other side of the church. The distance and his cover had saved his life - but not all of his comrades had been as lucky. Already, comrades were looking after those still alive.

Quickly, Heinrix investigated his injuries - visually and by using his powers. One leg had received most of the shrapnel, the flesh slowing it down before it hit the other. He concentrated on the damaged tissue and, while tapping into the warp, willed the wounds to close. There was no time for him to heal it thoroughly, not in the middle of a battle. But there was one thing he had to do to keep himself functional - reducing his pain perception.

“Call for reinforcements!” the lieutenant shouted, but there was no confirmation. Heinrix's view fell on the comrade responsible for operating the vox-caster that would allow them to contact command - but he already lay lifeless on the ground, the device next to him destroyed. Their vox-beads were only operational over short distances.

No one would come for them - they were on their own.

What had happened? Were the enemies using frag grenades, too? Or had they managed to shoot his comrade before he could throw the grenade away?

He had to move, changing his position - fast. Again, he used his connection to the warp to enhance his muscles, increasing his speed. Based on his memorised picture of the surroundings, he hurried further inside while trying to stay in cover. Although the pain was now bearable, he still felt his injury with every movement.

Already, the fog was closing them in again. He couldn't hear the engines anymore - it seemed the enemy had left their vehicles to continue on foot. Not that they had become much slower. Next to him, he saw a quick movement and then the flash of a blade.

Immediately, he focused his powers on the alien, closing his fist forcefully as if visually trying to crush it and shouted, “Jaeson, behind you!”. But it was already too late. He could only watch his comrade falling lifelessly to the ground while the attacker was writhing in pain. It looked humanoid, clad in yellow armour, wearing a faceless helmet with a conical form.

He had fought xenos before - these mad, green-skinned double-cursed orks. But these aliens were different. Taller, leaner, but also incredibly fast and agile. Striking with precision and then immediately withdrawing.

Heinrix was surprised - a human would usually already be on the floor, dying or even exploding in gore. It was resisting, stumbling towards him with its blades, and Heinrix could feel the base of his psyker implants that ran along his temples and were embedded deep into his cranium, warming up uncomfortably, preventing him from exerting too much power. It was his protection, but it also limited his abilities.

He had to finish it differently. Aiming his las pistol at the xenos, he saw the red flashes of light before he even pulled the trigger. Black spots appeared on the yellow armour of the alien before it sank lifelessly to the ground. As the blazing soul did not immediately vanish like he was used to with other souls, he checked the body for life signs with his powers - and found none.

“You're welcome,” sounded Comray's voice in his vox.

“I got this.”

“Don't make me laugh. Everyone knows you are a terrible shooter.”

He wasn't entirely wrong. Stashing his pistol, he reached for his force sword at his side, drawing it with one movement.

Suddenly feeling a presence at his side, he spun around, his sword ready to strike, just in time to watch how a series of las-shots was fired in the same direction.

“Damn, didn't catch it.” It had been Comray again.

“Still, thank you. Good reaction.”

“Nah, I don't even see these bastards, but I can always count on something trying to end you.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Heinrix saw another comrade collapsing.

Cursed xenos! They pick us off one by one.

The enemies were using melee weapons now, but even coming close up to them, his comrades didn't stand a chance. While he had concentrated on one alien, the others were killing his comrades outside his sight.

Another muffled sound from the side. Another soul went out.

No! Damn it!

Heinrix frantically tried to track the xenos's movements and presence, but then focused on the one closest to him and rushed forward - only to realise moments later that the comrade in danger was Comray.

Desperate to save his life, Heinrix quickly dismissed his usual psychic attacks, seeing how much resistance he had encountered before. But there was one thing he could do.

Even while running, he began channelling his life force, empowered by controlled anger and hate. He could feel his hair standing up as his whole body buzzed with energy, could smell the ozone in the air and hear the sound of static discharges and see the vapour of his breath in the icy air.

Reaching his hand towards the xenos, Heinrix unleashed his power. Suddenly, the room was ablaze in whitish-blue light as a lightning arc formed from his hand to the xenos, hitting it in the chest, leaving behind a wide dark spot and the stench of molten gear.

Without looking for life-signs, Heinrix drove his sword deep inside its chest, the serpentine pattern on the blade softly glowing blue. In his hands, the force sword was a psychic extension of his own sorcerous powers, a conduit between his mind and the target. While the xenos's armour could withstand a round of las, it was helpless against Heinrix's blade.

“Guess that makes us even, Heinrix.”

“For the time being, at least.”

“Still the optimist, I see.” He turned his head to look around and suddenly shouted, “The door!”

Alerted by Comray, Heinrix's eyes quickly shot to the side. The wooden door that the agents had disappeared behind now stood wide open, revealing nothing but darkness. Using his witch sight, Heinrix spotted a single blazing soul moving deeper inside.

“Damn it, one of them got through.” He activated his vox-bead, hoping Master Kovac would listen. “One xenos breached the door,” but there was no response.

Shocked, Heinrix noticed that there was only one soul left that wasn't shining as strongly as the intruders.

“We need to get a better foothold; we are the only ones left.”

Sensing a xenos soul approaching, Heinrix turned around, his sword ready to strike.

“Watch out!” he shouted to Comray, but realising it wasn't just one but two souls that drew close, he added, “There is another one coming…”

“There always is.”

With flurrying blades, the xenos charged at him, forcing Heinrix into a defensive stance. Without his enhanced speed and visuals, he wouldn't have had a chance against it. Still, its reflexes and agility were superior, and Heinrix also had the disadvantage that he wouldn't be able to keep his enhancements up for longer periods. Eventually, he would make a mistake or be too exhausted to continue the fight.

Heinrix caught movement from the edge of his vision and was forced to watch helplessly and in agony as a xenos dropped from a piece of debris and impaled Comray with its twin blades.

The xenos he was fighting with took his short distraction to target his injured leg, making him lose his balance for a moment. Heinrix raised his sword just in time to prevent the slash from separating his head from his body. Focusing on the heartbeat of the xenos and from there on the throat, he willed it to constrict, imagining crushing it with his fist. The xenos started to choke; it kept on fighting, but now much weaker and erratic.

It was a passable distraction and provided Heinrix a window of opportunity. With a sharp strike to the wrist, he forced the strange, bone-coloured sword from his enemy's grip, sending it clattering to the ground.

Channelling his anger and power through his blade, another swift attack aimed for the head, but the still fighting xenos stumbled back, away from the full might of the blow but not completely out of range. The psychic enhanced blade scratched over the opaque faceplate, cutting it open along the way, revealing silver piercing eyes under a veil of blood. Shock turned into a hateful glare; one Heinrix imagined matched the expression in his own grey eyes.

He heard a moan from the side. Comray… was he still alive?

A sudden kick with unexpected strength against Heinrix's injured leg made him stumble; although he caught himself the moment he looked up again to his opponent, the xenos was gone, its soul quickly moving away from him.

He cursed and spun around. On a broad piece of debris lay the xenos, and on top of it, Comray, pressing it down with his full weight. The twin blades were still protruding out of his back, and a large pool of blood had already collected around his body. Heinrix didn't have to use his powers to know that it was a fatal wound and even if they were out of combat, there was nothing he could do to save him.

The xenos was wriggling below him, but even so these aliens were much stronger than they physically appeared, Comray was a very large and heavily built man. He wasn't easily moved away, but it was only a question of time until the xenos would come free.

Right now, Comray was also preventing Heinrix from reaching the xenos with his sword.

“Run… You… have five… seconds.” He uttered breathlessly with blood running out of his mouth with every lip movement. His hand appeared from his side, and within the pin of a grenade.

As fast as his legs could carry him, Heinrix dashed and leapt over the scattered debris, counting the seconds in his head. Just before reaching the doorway, he plunged into the darkness ahead.

The impact came unexpectedly late, as his fall had him stumbling down a set of stairs. He used his hands to cover his head from the impact of the hard, cold stone when the explosion went off, sending a wave of dust after him, until he finally hit the ground.

Another curse escaped him. At least nothing was broken, aside from his pride.

Dead.

All 9 comrades.

And soon, him, since he could already feel xenos approaching, but he fully intended to make them work hard for it.

Without pausing to look around the dark chamber, only dimly lit by the last rays of dying daylight that reached inside, he rushed toward the only visible exit. He had just turned the corner when a shot grazed his side.

Ignoring the stench of burned flesh and armour, he quickly grabbed his own single grenade, pulled the pin and counted mentally before throwing it with his enhanced speed and without looking back into the chamber. It was his only chance.

This is for my squad.

He curled himself up, like he had done before, trying to have his armoured limbs protecting the parts of the body that weren't as shielded.

The detonation sent stone, shrapnel and dust into the hallway, but didn't add to his injuries. Checking for life-signs around him, he could feel a frantically heart-beat near him.

One was still alive.

Despite the risks of the xenos lying in wait for him, he turned around the corner to look, the light from above illuminating the stairs and on it, a motionless mess of shrapnel and blood. Above it, near the former door that was now blasted to pieces, another figure lay on the ground.

Even with his enhanced speed, it was too risky trying to ascend the stairs to end it with his sword. Once more, he channelled his life force, unleashing a bolt of lightning at the xenos, bathing the chamber in ghostly bluish-white light.

Frozen in place, he searched again for the sound of its heartbeat, any sign of life. Nothing - aside from the still remaining presence of their soul… it was confusing, unlike any other soul he had ever encountered.

But he was not done yet.

Suffer not the alien to live…

His fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it harder.

I won't.

Using the soul of the xenos he pursued like a beacon, he hurried down the dark corridors. The lumen he had mounted on his shoulder pauldron cast light across the golden skulls that decorated the walls, and briefly illuminated extinguished candles and plaques engraved with names. A place for the dead - a cemetery.

It could very likely become his last resting place as well, but he wasn't ready for it yet. The mission needed to succeed. For the good of the Imperium and to make the sacrifices and death worth it.

Just in time, he noticed the dark gaping hole in the ground, almost as wide as the hallway.

You've got to be kidding me…

There was no way to go past it, but he could try to jump over it.

But should he?

Although it was vague, he did sense the xenos's soul ahead of him - but also down. Since he couldn't know if there was a way to descend deeper into the ruins further ahead, he decided to take his chances with the hole.

He knelt to investigate further, and with the lumen he fetched from his shoulder, dispelled the darkness in the chamber below. The first thing he noticed was a single rope lying in the dust. Near his side, he found the corresponding hook, with a part of the rope still attached and cleanly severed - likely by the xenos, he surmised. With the ground visible, he estimated the height to be around 2 men's lengths. The tall alien could have simply jumped down.

Everything pointed to this being the path the agents and the xenos had taken - so this was where he had to follow. Every minute, xenos reinforcements could arrive. They needed to get what they had come for and leave.

He fixed the lumen back onto his shoulder and gripped the edge with one hand, glad he was wearing thick leather gloves that kept the sharp rim from cutting his skin. Using his enhanced strength to hold on, he lowered himself down as far as he could before letting go.

Almost instantly, he landed hard, his injured leg screaming in protest and throwing him off his balance. Unable to catch himself, he fell to the ground, grimacing with pain. Even buried under layers of psychic suppression, it was still there, and his injuries were a weakness that remained. He glanced around as he carefully rose to his feet again, determined to take only a quick look. Now, he couldn't tear his eyes away. This chamber looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The ever-present skull of the God-Emperor, decorating even his own armour, or other imperial iconography was completely missing here. Instead, Heinrix noticed unusual signs or symbols etched into walls of unknown smooth material; not the rough, dark grey stone and concrete that had been used above. There were no joints, no hard angles or edges. Everything seemed like it had been formed in one piece, giving the chamber a slightly convex shape. Almond-shaped green crystals were embedded in sections of the walls. They reflected the light from the lumen, scattering it across the room like green stars.

This wasn't an imperial place, not even a human one. He felt aghast to find xenos ruins under the imperial church and then realised with disgust that he had been captivated by its beauty and his curiosity, and allowed it to distract him from his task.

He could feel the warp presence of the xenos ahead of him, not very close but also not that far.

Clasping the pendant on his chest with his left hand, he fell into a whispered prayer.

“By your will, God-Emperor, guide your servants' hand, let my blade be your wrath, let your enemies fall before me.”

Xenos ruins under the church… and down here in these strange halls, he could feel the psychic pressure even stronger. What was it? A xenos artefact?

Hurrying after the xenos through bend hallways, Heinrix noticed too late the little resistance his right foot stumbled upon in the dark. A hiss followed a short clicking sound, indicating air getting released. Not air - gas, he thought, panicking. Holding his breath, driven by the thought of escape, he stumbled back from the direction he had come from, while trying to ascertain what was happening to him.

His vision was suddenly warped and blurred. The walls and floor seemed to shift and bounce, alternating between rushing toward him and pulling away. The effect was surreal and deeply nauseating. He stopped, slapping his back against the wall, and took deep breaths.

Heinrix's thoughts raced through his mind, competing with his will and intent to neutralise the effect with his powers. It had to be something mind-affecting, and with all the focus he could muster, he concentrated on willing the effect away.

He knew he was in danger; he had to hurry, but his thoughts started to slip through his fingers, like water.

Loud sounds echoed from somewhere, and the ground was shaking. Screams filled the air, rivers of red running across the cobblestones - and in the middle, among all the dead and mutilated corpses around him, a dead girl with brown hair, blue eyes… just like… no. He tried to avert his gaze, keeping himself from looking at her any longer, but there was no escape from the sight that had burned itself into his thoughts a long time ago. The longer he stared, the more he saw the resemblance until the face before him turned to the shape of his younger sister. NO! Elenorah… he whispered breathlessly, the pain and agony tightening his throat.

Feeling more than actually seeing the danger, he raised his sword in defence. He had been trained in sword fighting ever since he had learned to walk, preparing him for a future that would now never come to pass. But it hadn't been for nothing - he had developed instincts, feeling looming danger and being able to react even if his mind was occupied. It had saved his life, as the blade was deflected to his side, cutting off a piece of his pauldron and leaving a deep cut in his arm. Not even his reduced pain perception could prevent him from feeling the soaring agony it caused.

Pain brought clarity and left his vision behind. Immediately, the sensations of his surroundings returned, stronger than he had perceived them before and as if he were experiencing everything at once, in the blink of an eye - the chilly air in contrast to the warmth at the base of his psyker augmentations in his temples, the red crystal gleam of the xenos's blade. His reflection in the xenos's faceplate, a polished, featureless surface in the strange conical helmet, revealed the hate in his eyes and blood splashes on his skin.

He heard his heavy breathing and felt his fastened heart beat, the roaring of engines and vibrations around him.

The xenos spun around for another slash, and, enhanced by speed and strength, Heinrix kicked it away from him, making it fly down to the ground.

Now with the xenos visible, he concentrated on the beating of its heart, getting access to its bodily functions. But just like before, when the xenos vanished out of his sight, he lost track and couldn't get a hold on it.

Immediately, the xenos hurled a smaller blade at him, which Heinrix just in time managed to deflect with the vambraces on his arms, shielding his head. Providing just enough time for the xenos to leap to its feet and surge forward.

A flash of light, a crackling sound and then the xenos first stiffened and then sank motionless to the ground.

Heinrix glanced to the side and was momentarily dazzled by a newly activated lumen.

A faint “Phase one completed” revealed Agent Kovac before he could even see him. Without sparing Heinrix a glance and with an exotic-looking gun in his hand, he moved straight to the unconscious xenos and began shackling it.

For a few moments, Heinrix couldn't help but simply stare on the scene, watching how the agent restricted the alien and finally removed a simple glowing jewel from its armour, that was, now that he had time to have a closer look on it, of a much more elaborate design compared to the other xenos's he had seen.

Through his confusion, exhaustion and anger, he pressed through gritted teeth, “You keep it alive?”

“Yes. It can still be of use to us.”

“You are injured.”

The voice nearly startled him, as he hadn't noticed the female agent approaching, and it pulled him out of his stupor. He closed his eyes, focused inward and began sealing his wounds. Moments later, he opened them again. The chilly air, which had at first felt refreshing, now slowly dissipated, but still the cold lingered, creeping into his bones.

So close to her, he could finally see more of her face. It was difficult to ascertain how old she might be. While it was devoid of the deep lines and furrows of advanced age, there was a look in her eyes that left no doubt that she had seen much in her life. She had never told them her name, and no one had dared to ask.

“I… should be able to hold through until we return.” He would definitely need to see a chirurgeon afterwards. His powers were drained; healing himself would be difficult in his state. “Healing deep injuries takes time, but I was able to stop the bleeding.”

“It is remarkable that you are still alive.”

“I got lucky.”

It was the truth - he was well aware that under other circumstances, he wouldn't have survived.

“A useful asset. Still, despite that, you have potential, biomancer. It is Heinrix, isn't it?”

He simply nodded as a response, but her question had made him thoughtful. His eyes moved down to his sword, the handle still gripped tightly in his hand. He had been wrong. His name wasn't the last tie to his past; his knowledge and training remained. All those years ago when he had been exiled, he had feared he could never fight again with a sword, but his powers had also allowed him to heal the damage he had suffered.

Such was the nature of his curse - the reason for all the misery he had to endure, but also the reason he was still alive, body, mind and soul forged into a weapon.

Suddenly, he noticed that the strange pressure he had felt before was gone.

“I hope you found what you were looking for.”

To his surprise, she looked down at the xenos when she answered him. “Yes, we did.”

The sound of multiple people with heavy boots approaching made him look up to the hallway he had come through. A fresh squad of guards, but none he immediately recognised. It was unexpected but not unwelcome… but the vox-caster… had the call gone through? Or…

Heinrix finished his thought and voiced his conclusion.

“You had called for reinforcements…”

“We don't leave things to chance if we can avoid it.” Kovac had answered.

Heinrix had wondered before how fast the xenos had found them - they had known exactly where they would be. As much as he wanted to believe that it was likely the psychic presence of the artefact, he couldn't stop thinking that his psyker soul, shining like a beacon, had guided them the way.

Bringing the doom upon the mission and his comrades just by his existence, he thought bitterly.

“Follow me and take the prisoner with you.”

The woman's gaze fell on Heinrix for the last time. “Good luck”, she said, and then she marched back into the darkness, taking most of the troops with her.

“Thank you”, he whispered a bit too late.

“That's it then. Let's check how it looks outside.” The agent stood up and, accompanied by two guardsmen, left towards the exit. Heinrix wasn't surprised that he hadn't asked if he could still walk. People usually didn't care.

Thankfully, he was, so he followed him slowly, the other two guardsmen at his back. A fresh rope now hung from the hole in the ceiling, with soldiers above pulling it to help the agent and Heinrix climb up.

Soon, they were back in the chamber with the two dead xenos.

“Your work? Got lucky again?”

Kovac teased with a grin on his face before searching the xenos for the strange jewels. Heinrix started to wonder what was up with it. Surely the Inquisition wouldn't need to collect precious stones to sell them for financial gain? Was the agent trying to enrich himself? Was it perhaps more than a gem?

“I suppose so,” he answered, still staring at the dead xenos.

Over the damaged stairs and remains of the door, they made their way outside. Bright light from the lumen of the group transporters flooded the ruin and blinded Heinrix. The area was filled with fresh troops, who were securing the perimeter and collecting the dead, some even in the process of rappelling down from the assault carrier.

Why hadn't they just flown here like this as well? Why the long march? Hoping the xenos wouldn't notice?

“What about the city?” he asked.

“The fight will probably cease soon. Corsairs never stay long.”

“Corsairs? Is that what these aliens are called?”

“They are pirates. Don't concern yourself with more.”

Now that the fight was over, he could feel the toll the long march, the combat, his injuries and the excessive use of his powers had taken on his body. As the tension and adrenaline faded, his muscles felt stiff and heavy, his whole body exhausted - and a faint tremble was affecting his limbs. His body modifications had not been permanent - his improved eyesight, strength and speed were now gone. He could feel his eyes burning and watering from overuse and being tired; his whole body felt sore. He still had the pain stifling active, he had to otherwise he wouldn't have been able to walk anymore.

Instinctively, he reached for the trench-filler in his pockets, unsealing it without even looking at it. The sky captured his sight - the fog was already clearing, stars and two moons formed a beautiful view, in strange contrast to the illuminated gruesome remains of the bloody carnage on the ground.

“Messy.”

Agent Kovac went closer, no doubt to investigate the remains of the dead xenos.

Heinrix averted his eyes and put the ration bar away. He started to feel nauseous again. Even after everything he had seen in his life, staring at the bloody remains of people he knew or innocents still didn't leave him unaffected. There wasn't anything recognisable left of the man he had known for the past five years, who had never strayed from his side. They hadn't been close; people usually weren't with psykers - or maybe it was just him. Commissar Comray had watched over him, as his potential executioner, yes, but he had also saved his life.

From afar, he could hear the agent's voice.

“Another victory for the Imperium. The Emperor protects.”

Heinrix glanced at the statues surrounding him and then lowered his gaze to the pendant on his chest, shaped like a stylised “I” and bearing a skull within a radiant circle. It was the symbol of the imperial creed, his faith. He closed his hand around it and brought it closer to his face, examining the golden emblem, now coated with blood. After everything he had been through, it was still there with him, had persisted like him. How strange - it had been the second time in his life now that he had found himself making a last stand in a church; once to protect a group of civilians, this time the agents and their mission. Back then, he was fighting cultists, followers of the arch-enemy, who had succumbed to the dark and evil promises of chaos that had flooded the streets of the city red with blood. It was in that dark moment that he had prayed to the God-Emperor, not for his soul but for strength to destroy the enemies, to protect those in need. And somehow, like a miracle, he had survived these mad attackers, the air strike that had blasted them to pieces, and had found in the dust at his feet the pendant he had been wearing ever since.

It was more than decoration or jewellery. It was a statement. And his focus.

Suffer not the alien, the mutant, the heretic to live.

The enemies of humanity.

His gaze fell on the purity seal attached to his chest armour, the red wax stamped with the Aquila, the double-headed eagle that symbolised the Imperium. The thin strip of vellum trailing from it was now so soaked in blood - his and the xenos's - that the fine script was no longer legible. But it didn't matter. He knew the words by heart.

He who stood above all mankind had kept him alive, as he had done all the years before… on the black ship that brought him for his sanctioning to Terra, the brutal trials and hardships in the Scholastica Psykana, the past five years in the Guard. Granting him the wish to survive, even if the life that awaited him was dire. He had survived yet again against all odds - a precious gift that he would not waste.

He was the Emperor's servant, and he would do his duty as long as he lived.

Only in death does duty end.

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