The chanting spread through the *Talons of Terra*.
It did not blare from the vox speakers like a transmission.
Instead, it seemed to seep from the ship itself.
The ancient deck plates vibrated with the rhythm of thousands of voices, low and solemn, reciting prayers that had not been spoken aboard the cruiser in more than half a century.
Even the machine spirit reacted.
Lumen strips flickered.
Cogitator screens momentarily froze before restarting.
Servo-skulls paused in mid-flight as if listening to something only they could hear.
Master of the Fleet Decimus looked uneasily at the bridge consoles.
“No signal source.” “No vox intrusion.” “No electronic interference.” He looked toward Master of the Forge Hadrian.
“The machine spirit is hearing it.” Hadrian rested both gauntlets on the nearest cogitator altar.
His servo-arms unfolded behind him as streams of binharic code poured from his vox-grille.
The machine spirit answered.
Not with words.
With fear.
Hadrian slowly withdrew his hands.
“It wishes to leave.” Silence settled over the bridge.
Ancient Imperial warships were proud creations.
Their machine spirits knew anger, stubbornness, and loyalty.
Fear was almost unheard of.
Corven watched the distant outline of the *Merciless Death*.
“Maintain course.” No hesitation entered his voice.
“If the Emperor has brought us here, we will not turn aside.” — On Deck Seventeen the battle had become brutally intimate.
The corridor was too narrow for grand manoeuvres.
Bolters gave way to blades.
The confined passage echoed with the shriek of chainswords, the crack of power weapons and the grinding impact of ceramite striking ceramite.
Veteran Sergeant Darius ducked beneath the sweeping arc of a chainaxe.
The weapon slammed into the bulkhead behind him, showering the corridor with molten sparks.
He stepped inside his opponent’s guard.
His power sword thrust upward beneath the warrior’s raised arm.
The energized blade pierced the reactor pack.
For an instant the empty armour stood motionless.
Then blue lightning erupted across its surface.
The suit collapsed in upon itself.
Again there was no corpse.
Only black vapour escaped the ruined plates before dissolving into nothingness.
Brother Galen crushed another warrior’s helmet with the butt of his bolt rifle.
The helmet shattered.
Darkness spilled from the neck seal.
The body remained standing.
Without a head.
Without hesitation.
Brother Oren fired a point-blank bolt shell into the exposed cavity.
The armour exploded apart, scattering fragments across the deck.
The darkness dispersed like smoke before a strong wind.
Brother Oren stared.
“They aren’t possessed.” Brother Cassian joined him.
“No.” “They’re animated.” “By what?” Cassian had no answer.
— The enemy fought with frightening discipline.
They did not roar battle cries.
They did not pursue wounded enemies.
Each moved with cold precision, striking only when an opening appeared.
They fought like veteran Legionaries.
Every movement economical.
Every attack measured.
Darius recognised the style.
“They’re trained.” Brother Matthias parried a power sword before replying.
“More than trained.” “They’re coordinated.” Indeed they were.
The warriors supported one another perfectly, withdrawing before they became isolated and advancing only when another could cover them.
It reminded Darius uncomfortably of Raven Guard doctrine.
Only…
Older.
More refined.
As though these warriors had learned their craft when Corax himself still walked among his sons.
— A sharp chime sounded over the squad vox.
“Bridge to Sergeant Darius.” Captain Lucien Voss’s calm voice filled his helmet.
“Status.” “Enemy contained inside Cargo Bay Twelve.” “Casualties?” “Brother Remiel wounded.” “No fatalities.” “Enemy strength?” Darius looked over the battlefield.
Broken suits of ancient armour littered the corridor.
Yet more continued emerging from the smoking boarding torpedo.
“They don’t stop coming.” A brief silence followed.
Then Voss answered.
“They’re buying time.” The same conclusion Corven had reached.
Darius looked toward the still-smoking torpedo.
“If that’s true…” “…then we’re not their objective.” — On the bridge, another development demanded Corven’s attention.
The *Merciless Death* was changing.
Sections of its immense hull, dark for over five decades, glowed faintly as emergency power spread through forgotten systems.
Docking lights illuminated.
Defence turrets slowly rotated.
Not to target the Hidden Talons.
To test their ancient mechanisms.
Master Decimus frowned.
“Power output increasing.” “Reactor at eleven percent.” “Twelve.” “Fourteen.” “It should be impossible.” Hadrian agreed.
“A plasma reactor left unattended for fifty-one years should be dead.” “It is.” Every eye turned toward the Techmarine.
“The reactor isn’t restarting.” “It’s being restarted.” Corven’s expression hardened.
“By whom?” Before Hadrian could answer, Chief Librarian Kaelen staggered.
He clutched the edge of the command dais.
Blood ran freely from one nostril.
“They’ve opened it.” “What have they opened?” Corven asked.
Kaelen struggled to answer.
“A door.” “Deep inside the cruiser.” “I can hear…” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“…footsteps.” — Far across the battlefield, the unknown flagship continued drifting toward the *Merciless Death*.
Its guns had fallen silent.
It no longer exchanged fire with the Hidden Talons.
Its mission lay elsewhere.
Within its shadowed bridge, the ancient warrior bearing the faded Hydra emblem watched the hololithic display.
“The diversion proceeds.” An officer inclined his head.
“The Hidden Talons are containing the boarding parties.” “As expected.” “The fleet battle?” “Irrelevant.” The officer hesitated.
“My lord…” “What if Corven boards the cruiser before the rite is complete?” The commander was silent for a long moment.
Then he laughed softly.
“I hope he does.” — Deck Seventeen echoed with another explosion.
A boarding torpedo detonated from within.
Darius instinctively threw himself behind a cargo hauler as burning ceramite fragments tore through the corridor.
When the smoke cleared…
The remaining black-armoured warriors had vanished.
Every one of them.
Brother Severan swept the area with his auspex.
“Nothing.” Brother Cassian examined the destroyed torpedo.
“They withdrew.” “Impossible.” “There are no other exits.” Darius slowly surveyed the corridor.
His instincts prickled.
They had not won.
The enemy had simply decided the battle was over.
— Brother Remiel, wounded but alive, called from the far end of the corridor.
“Sergeant.” Darius crossed quickly.
Remiel pointed toward the deck.
Someone had carved words into the adamantium flooring.
The cuts were impossibly deep.
Each stroke had been made by an armoured gauntlet.
There were only four words.
**THE GATE IS OPEN.** No signature.
No explanation.
Only the message.
Darius activated his vox immediately.
“Captain Voss.” “Report.” “They’re gone.” A pause.
“Completely.” “And they left us a warning.” — The bridge doors opened.
Darius entered still wearing battle-scarred armour.
Fragments of black ceramite remained embedded in his pauldrons.
He saluted.
“My Chapter Master.” Corven acknowledged him with a nod.
“Your report.” Darius placed one recovered helmet upon the strategium table.
The featureless black helm rolled to a stop.
“There were no bodies.” “No gene-seed.” “No flesh.” “Every suit was empty.” Master Hadrian carefully lifted the helmet.
His mechadendrites scanned its interior.
“No biological residue.” “No trace of a wearer.” He looked toward Corven.
“This armour has been empty for a very long time.” Captain Voss frowned.
“Yet it fought like an Astartes.” “Yes.” Chief Librarian Kaelen finally spoke.
“They were never alive.” Everyone turned toward him.
“They’re echoes.” “Memories.” “Something has taken the shape of warriors who died ten thousand years ago.” No one challenged him.
Not because they understood.
But because no better explanation existed.
Corven looked once more toward the *Merciless Death*.
The cruiser now blazed with thousands of newly awakened lights.
Across its battered hull, docking beacons activated one after another.
Like a lighthouse calling ships home.
Or a trap inviting its prey.
The Chapter Master rested one hand upon the hilt of his power sword.
“The diversion is finished.” Captain Voss met his gaze.
“They want us to board.” Corven nodded once.
“Yes.” He looked around the bridge at the officers who had served beside him for centuries.
“They have chosen the ground.” A faint smile crossed the Chapter Master’s face.
“They have not chosen the warriors.” Outside the armoured viewing ports, the vast silhouette of the *Merciless Death* continued to awaken.
Deep within its ancient heart, massive blast doors ground slowly open.
For the first time in fifty-one years…
The darkness behind them breathed.