The *Talons of Terra* came alive.
Throughout the Battle Barge, crimson warning lumens flashed as Chapter serfs raced through the corridors.
Massive blast doors opened one after another, revealing armouries sealed since the Chapter’s founding.
Servitors rolled racks of ammunition toward the launch bays.
Thunderhawks roared to life.
Storm Ravens were armed.
Every remaining boarding torpedo was brought from the magazines.
The Hidden Talons were no longer conducting a rescue mission.
They were preparing for war.
— On the bridge, Chapter Master Corven stood before the great hololithic display.
The image of the *Merciless Death* rotated slowly above the strategium.
Nearly every internal compartment now glowed crimson.
Master of the Forge Hadrian manipulated the projection.
“One hundred and seventy-four blast doors have sealed.” “Twelve elevators are moving without commands.” “Power is being redirected toward the lower decks.” Captain Lucien Voss folded his arms.
“It wants us away from something.” Chief Librarian Kaelen slowly shook his head.
“No.” His voice was strained.
“It wants us…” “…to follow.” Every officer looked toward him.
Corven’s expression hardened.
“Then we shall.” — Deep within the ancient cruiser, Captain Alaric studied the tactical display projected by his gauntlet.
Brother Corian’s last transmission originated six kilometres below their current position.
Between them lay dozens of sealed bulkheads.
Brother Leon examined one of the massive adamantium doors.
“No manual controls.” Brother Cassian stepped forward.
“The Guardian.” The ancient being stood motionless in the centre of the transit station.
Its silver halo revolved slowly around its head.
Captain Alaric approached.
“You can open them.” The Guardian remained silent.
Finally it spoke.
> **”Yes.”** “Will you?” A long pause followed.
> **”The path below was sealed by your Emperor.”** > **”To open it carries consequence.”** Captain Alaric’s answer came without hesitation.
“My brothers are below.” The Guardian inclined its head.
> **”A worthy reason.”** It extended one elegant hand.
The adamantium blast door shimmered.
Not melted.
Not unlocked.
Its molecular structure simply separated into millions of tiny metallic fragments before flowing aside like liquid mercury.
Beyond lay a descending corridor.
Brother Remus stared.
“I don’t think that’s technology.” Neither did Captain Alaric.
— Praetor Nemeon watched silently.
When the passage opened, he turned to his own warriors.
“The Hydra advances.” None questioned him.
Captain Alaric immediately blocked their path with his sword.
“You are not coming.” Nemeon sighed.
“If you descend alone…” “You will die alone.” Brother Gideon growled.
“We’d rather die than trust a traitor.” The Alpha Legion Praetor met his gaze.
“You already trusted Captain Elias Vorn.” “He was loyal.” “He was.” Nemeon nodded.
“And he trusted me.” Silence.
Captain Alaric searched the ancient warrior’s face for deception.
He found none.
Only fatigue.
Finally he lowered his sword.
“You walk behind us.” “If one of your warriors breaks formation…” Nemeon finished the sentence himself.
“…you’ll kill him.” “Agreed.” An uneasy alliance was born.
— The combined force began its descent.
Forty Terminators.
Twenty Sternguard Veterans.
Vanguard Veterans moving ahead as scouts.
Twenty Alpha Legion veterans.
The Guardian walking silently at the centre.
No one spoke.
The corridors themselves discouraged conversation.
The architecture slowly changed.
Imperial construction gave way to something older.
The smooth adamantium walls became polished black stone.
There were no rivets.
No welds.
No visible joints.
The corridors appeared carved from a single impossible structure.
Brother Hadrian would later describe it as “engineered geology.” Brother Cassian reached out once more toward the Warp.
Nothing.
Only silence.
The deeper they descended…
The quieter reality became.
— Three kilometres below the cathedral, they found Brother Corian.
Or what remained of his squad.
The Vanguard Veterans had formed a defensive circle within a circular chamber.
Their armour bore fresh scars from savage combat.
Brother Marcus was missing his left arm.
Brother Felix’s helmet had been torn completely away, revealing blood running down one side of his face.
Yet every Hidden Talon still stood.
Captain Alaric immediately crossed to Corian.
“Report.” The Vanguard Sergeant saluted.
“We found the breach.” “What came through?” Corian slowly pointed into the darkness.
“We never saw it.” Alaric frowned.
“You fought something you never saw?” “No.” Corian’s normally steady voice wavered.
“We fought…” “…ourselves.” — No one understood.
Corian removed a cracked helmet camera from his belt.
“The recording survived.” He handed it to Captain Alaric.
The pict display activated.
The Vanguard squad advanced through an immense circular corridor.
Everything appeared normal.
Then…
One by one…
Each Hidden Talon walked into view.
Identical armour.
Identical heraldry.
Identical weapons.
Perfect copies.
The duplicates attacked instantly.
Brother Marcus watched himself sever his own arm.
Brother Felix saw his own face staring back before smashing his helmet apart.
The recording dissolved into frantic close-quarters combat.
Then static.
Brother Leon slowly lowered the device.
“They copied us.” Praetor Nemeon’s face became grim.
“It has learned.” — Captain Alaric turned sharply.
“What has learned?” The Alpha Legion veteran answered quietly.
“The Witness.” — The Guardian spoke.
> **”It observes.”** > **”It remembers.”** > **”It becomes.”** Brother Cassian felt a cold certainty settle over him.
“It isn’t trying to destroy us.” The Guardian inclined its head.
> **”Correct.”** Brother Cassian continued.
“It’s trying to understand us.” No reply came.
It didn’t need one.
— A deep metallic boom echoed through the lower vaults.
The floor trembled violently.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
The Guardian looked toward the abyss below.
For the first time…
It moved quickly.
Its calm, measured pace became a sprint that no living creature should have been capable of.
Within seconds it had vanished into the darkness.
Captain Alaric looked toward his warriors.
“After it!” The Hidden Talons charged.
The Alpha Legion followed.
Neither side noticed the faint movement behind them.
From the shadows of the corridor…
A single Hidden Talon stepped into the light.
His armour was flawless.
His silver-black raven’s claw gleamed upon his shoulder.
His helmet slowly turned to watch the departing force.
Then another identical warrior emerged beside him.
Then another.
Within moments…
Two dozen perfect copies stood silently in the darkness.
None carried Chapter markings incorrectly.
None bore visible flaws.
They were exact.
One of them quietly spoke in Captain Alaric’s own voice.
> “We have learned enough.” As the last of the real Hidden Talons disappeared into the depths of the *Merciless Death*…
Their perfect doubles began the long walk upward.
Toward the surface.
Toward the waiting Battle Barge.
And toward a Chapter that had no idea the enemy now wore its own face.