899.M41 – Aboard the Battle Barge Talons of Terra The escape pod drifted silently through the void.
Scarred by micrometeorite impacts and scorched from atmospheric re-entry, it spun slowly as Thunderhawk **Corvus-12** approached under minimal engine thrust.
Inside the cockpit, Veteran Sergeant Darius studied the auspex.
“One life sign.” “Stable.” “No signs of mutation.” The Thunderhawk matched the pod’s velocity.
Magnetic grapples locked onto its hull with a heavy metallic *clang*.
“Secure.” The pod was hauled into the Thunderhawk’s cargo bay.
— Minutes later…
The pod rested inside the Battle Barge’s quarantine bay.
Techmarines and Apothecaries surrounded it while servo-skulls floated overhead, scanning every centimeter.
Master of the Forge Hadrian examined the pod’s machine spirit.
“It bears the seal of the Imperial Navy.” “Manufactured seventy-three years ago.” Captain Lucien Voss frowned.
“The station fell forty-nine years ago.” “Correct.” Apothecary Leon looked up.
“The occupant is alive.” Corven arrived.
“Open it.” Hydraulic cutters bit into the hatch.
Steam hissed into the chamber.
The door slowly fell outward.
Inside sat a lone Imperial Navy officer.
His uniform was immaculate.
His hair neatly trimmed.
He appeared no older than thirty.
He blinked at the towering Space Marines.
“Where…” “…am I?” — The officer was escorted to the Apothecarion.
His identification confirmed his name.
**Lieutenant Marcus Garran** Imperial Navy.
Assigned to Listening Station Epsilon-Seven.
Exactly as the recovered records had stated.
Apothecary Leon completed his examination.
“No disease.” “No Warp taint.” “No cybernetic alteration.” “No genetic abnormalities.” Corven stood before the officer.
“State your last memory.” Garran answered immediately.
“The station came under attack.” “Describe the attackers.” “I never saw them.” “What happened next?” “I escaped.” “When?” “Yesterday.” Silence filled the chamber.
Captain Voss finally spoke.
“Lieutenant…” “Epsilon-Seven fell forty-nine years ago.” The officer laughed nervously.
“No.” “It was yesterday.” “You’ve made a mistake.” Corven placed an ancient chrono-device upon the table.
“Observe.” The Imperial date glowed clearly.
**899.M41** Garran stared.
His face lost all colour.
“No…” He shook his head violently.
“No…” “This isn’t possible.” — Hours later…
Chief Librarian Kaelen entered Garran’s chamber.
“I seek your permission.” “For what?” “To examine your memories.” The lieutenant nodded weakly.
“If it helps…” Kaelen removed his helmet.
His pale eyes met Garran’s.
“Do not resist.” The Librarian reached into the man’s mind.
— Darkness.
A station corridor.
Alarm klaxons.
Crewmen running.
Someone shouting.
*”Unidentified vessel approaching!”* The bridge.
Captain Orlov standing before the command throne.
*”Raise void shields!”* Then…
Silence.
Every sound vanished.
Outside the station’s great viewing port…
The stars disappeared.
Not hidden.
Gone.
As if reality itself had been erased.
The darkness moved.
Not across space.
Through it.
Shapes emerged.
Impossible shapes.
Too large to comprehend.
Then— Power-armoured warriors walked through the station’s corridors.
Black armour.
Featureless helmets.
No Chapter symbols.
They fired no weapons.
They simply walked.
Every crewman they passed stopped moving.
Turned toward them.
And followed.
Like sleepwalkers.
Kaelen reached deeper.
One warrior turned.
Its helmet faced him.
It spoke.
*”You should not be here.”* The psychic link shattered.
— Kaelen stumbled backwards.
Blood poured from his nose.
Brother Librarians rushed to steady him.
Corven entered immediately.
“What happened?” Kaelen struggled to breathe.
“It…” “…saw me.” “What?” “Something inside Garran’s memory.” The room fell silent.
“Describe it.” Kaelen slowly looked toward the Chapter Master.
“It wasn’t a memory.” “It was…” “…watching.” — Elsewhere aboard the ship…
Master of the Forge Hadrian dismantled Garran’s escape pod piece by piece.
One detail immediately caught his attention.
The pod’s chronometer.
He checked it twice.
Then a third time.
Finally he summoned Corven.
“My Chapter Master.” “The pod truly launched yesterday.” Corven studied the instrument.
“No malfunction?” “None.” Hadrian activated another display.
“The pod’s reactor has consumed exactly twelve hours of fuel.” Captain Voss folded his arms.
“So either time itself has been distorted…” “…or someone wishes us to believe that.” — The Hidden Talons’ fleet continued deeper into the Amerikon Sector.
Long-range augurs suddenly detected another vessel.
Small.
Imperial.
Drifting.
Corven ordered an intercept.
The frigate *Silent Wing* reached the contact first.
Boarding parties reported back within minutes.
“My Lord…” “It is a Navy courier.” “Status?” “Destroyed.” “Survivors?” “None.” Captain Voss frowned.
“Cause?” The reply came after a pause.
“Every crewman is seated at their duty station.” “They appear…” “…as though they simply fell asleep.” — Aboard the courier vessel…
Veteran Sergeant Darius walked slowly across the bridge.
Twenty-three bodies remained strapped into their command chairs.
No wounds.
No blood.
No signs of struggle.
Brother Cassian examined the captain.
“Heart stopped.” “Nothing else.” Darius looked toward the viewing port.
Outside…
Someone had written a message across the armoured glass.
From the outside.
In Low Gothic.
Three words.
**TURN BACK NOW** — Back aboard the *Talons of Terra*…
The Chapter Council assembled once more.
Captain Voss addressed the gathered officers.
“Unknown forces.” “Possible temporal anomalies.” “Imperial vessels disappearing.” “Entire populations missing.” Chief Librarian Kaelen remained troubled.
“They are guiding us.” Corven looked at him.
“You are certain?” Kaelen nodded.
“They leave clues.” “They allow survivors.” “They want us to continue.” Master of the Fleet Decimus added another concern.
“Our supply calculations.” Corven looked up.
“What about them?” “We’ve already travelled farther into the Amerikon Sector than planned.” “The nearest Imperial resupply point lies almost four months behind us.” Corven understood immediately.
Someone wasn’t merely hiding.
They were drawing the Hidden Talons ever deeper into one of the most isolated regions of the Segmentum.
Away from aid.
Away from reinforcement.
Away from the Imperium.
The Chapter Master rose from his command throne.
“If this is a trap…” Every officer looked toward him.
“…then we shall spring it.” No hesitation.
No fear.
Only duty.
Far beyond the fleet, hidden within a dead system untouched by Imperial charts, the ancient cruiser **Merciless Death** drifted in eternal darkness.
Deep within its lightless interior…
A single lumen flickered to life.
Then another.
And another.
Somewhere aboard the forgotten vessel, heavy footsteps echoed through deserted corridors.
The hunt was entering its next stage.