The 41st Millennium, Miv'tzar System, Planet Miqdash.

  Screams ripped from Palatine Sarai Eloroch's lips, her body failing her as she convulsed and raged against the darkness that encroached upon her mind.

  Inquisitor Fahlia Kurchen watched with detached indifference as the Adepta Sororitus fervently worked at their Sister's wounds in the inner sanctorium. The smell of incense permeated even the stonework of the structure, pinpricks of emberic light aglow in the darkness around them, the fragrant whisps of smoke lazily drifting into the air. Candles illuminated the large space, but only just the lower area, as a bastion of darkness held the ceiling above from view. Fahlia glanced down at her chronometer.

  "It has been twenty seven days." Her scratchy voice carried a distinct business-like tone, yet the undercurrents of her words betrayed her seeming pleasure at the failure of these sisters. "Twenty seven days, and the Order of the Crimson Grail has yet to execute, or even injure, Canonness Ori Reuben. While she has managed to kill roughly half of your order."

  Fahlia tisked and leaned against a dark stone pillar, the candlelight flickering around her and making the shadows dance across her rough features. Her battle skirt rustled with the movement, the strips of cloth dragging against her grieves. Her gauntlets glinted as she lit a Lho-stick from one of the sacred candles nearby, and pinched it between her thin lips, aligned with a wrathful, crooked scar that crossed her mouth.

  Sarai cried out to the God Emperor, her pleas desperate for his salvation even as her body failed her.

  "You asked for a month to settle this issue internally, Palatine Eloroch. But I suppose this should be expected from a Sister whose pen is more worn out than her sword." Fahlia flipped a lighter in her fingers. Her chronometer chirped, and she flipped her lighter closed in that same moment. "Your time is up."

  The entire structure was racked with tremors, dust and loose mortar breaking free from the rugged stone around them. Fahlia's vox-caster crackled and growled.

  "Inquisitor, chaos rifts are tearing open across the planet's surface. One in particular is..."

  Fahlia narrowed her eyes. "Is what?"

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  "It's larger than the Judicial Pyre, ma'am."

  Fahlia's fingers gripped the vox-caster tighter, the metal box straining from her crushing hand. "Send the Thunderhawks to our location for evacuation."

  "And the local government, ma'am?"

  Her lip twitched as she looked down at the still praying Sarai.

  "Inform the Planetary Governor he ought to evacuate, but to do so quietly. Cut all lines of communication: mass panic will accomplish nothing."

  Sarai turned her gaze to the Inquisitor, and in a moment her eyes flashed with a golden light.

  In a blur of movement Fahlia snapped her arm towards Sarai, her wrist mounted crossbow firing its shot as the light blinded her. She drew her power stake and lunged forward blindly, only for her weapon to hit something too solid to pierce. Her gauntlets slid from their position as she put her weight behind her thrust. As her vision slowly returned, her gaze landed on the large hand that her power stake pierced through.

  As the Inquisitor grunted and struggled, Sarai looked up at the being before her. The golden light had faded, and her gaze was transfixed. The new entity stood nearly double the height of the shortest sister of battle there, her long mahogany hair tumbling down her shoulders and bare form, almost as a dress unto itself. The being's skin was free of blemish, and perfect in proportion. In a moment Sarai felt a peace she had not felt in an age. An indomitable will to survive and fight. Her heart swelled with a wrathful defiance against death, and she cried out in the Emperor's name one last time before the golden light could fade. Sarai's wounds mended before her very eyes, and the sisters around her turned their gaze to the intruder.

  The intruder spoke, her voice soothing yet stern as she addressed Fahlia. "Who are you to strike me?"

  A deep sense of fealty to this stranger stirred in Fahlia's heart. She recalled her teachings of the disparate powers of daemons from each archenemy, and knew that to respond with anything but resolve against them could be her end. "You dare address an Inquisitor, heretic scum?"

  The being tilted her head slightly, her emerald eyes flashing with hurt, the words more devastating than the wounds in her flesh. Sarai rose to her feet and drew her power sword. The pain from the being permeated her, and her protectiveness enflamed her heart. She leveled her sword at the Inquisitor.

  "You will disengage, Inquisitor."

  Fahlia's brow furrowed, and she spat out her Lho-stick. "I knew you were as corrupted as your Canonness!"

  "She is the answer to our prayers!" Sarai shot back, her words dripping with hope. "You dare to oppose the will of our Father?"

  The other sisters followed the lead of their Palatine and surrounded Fahlia. The inner peace and devotion rose up within her, and her will began to waver. Simultaneously, her desire to destroy the heretic burned ever brighter, tearing through it all as she stared up at the enthralling woman before her.