The wind blew with a peculiar harshness, as if the atmosphere itself were trying to tear at my flesh. I stood with the others in the designated area for newcomers, a secondary landing platform covered in rusted plates and dried stains that I didn't want to inspect too closely. The Magog sun barely filtered through the purple clouds, casting a sickly light on the walls of Kadamtu.
Vendria sat on a supply crate, slowly cleaning her rifle. Rodrik lit a homemade cigar, while Aaron simply kept watch, his gaze fixed on the walls as if waiting for something to emerge from between the stones. Some of them had fought to get here. Others… never made it. No one said so, but the absence was heavy.
"You shouldn't feel sorry for them; many of them won't survive what happens next."
"That doesn't mean they should be ignored. Many of them know what awaits them and still fight for the people around them."
"They're romantic thoughts, but we both know that many of them know that retreating would also mean death... They have no choice. In this world, you mustn't allow us compassion, and you can't close your eyes forever."
I remained silent. Thariel was right.
"Forget it, we'll deal with that later. For now, let's focus on where we are." Thariel stirred inside me, like a restless spark trapped in the cage of my ribs.
"This place reeks of latent death." I heard her clearly, her voice whispering in the back of my mind, as if speaking from the other side of a veil. "You can feel it too, can't you? Something sleeps here, Elaris. And it won't stay asleep for long."
I nodded slightly, more to myself than to her. There was something under the base. Not only that, but there were signs of chaos on some of the men roaming the base. But for now, there was little I could do but ignore it; my place at this base was still undecided.
Minutes passed, perhaps an hour. Finally, Emil emerged from the command bunker, his brow furrowing even more than usual. He brought another man with him: a commander in an immaculate uniform and steely gaze, whose gait resonated with trained authority.
He brought us together without ceremony.
"They're reorganizing deployments," Emil said. "Half the base will be redirected to the southern sectors, where minor incursions have been detected... and something else."
"Anything else?" Rodrik asked.
The commander answered for Emil, his voice like a gunshot.
—A group of Skitarii was wiped out early this morning. Not by enemy fire, not by artillery. They were... crushed. By hand.
Silence. Even Thariel fell silent.
"And no one saw the person responsible," he continued. "Only broken signals and destroyed bodies. Some believe it was a failed Mechanicus experiment. Others, that something descended from the mountains. The same ones you all descended from."
I felt everyone looking at me, even if only out of the corner of their eyes. Emil didn't say anything, but the question was on the table even if no words had been spoken.
They had all seen my interaction and combat against the strange creature that had clashed and wiped out some of them, but silence seemed to be the way to deal with it. I still didn't know how many had emerged from the seal and how they had changed in this reality, but as time passed, I could sense the position of some of them, and there seemed to be quite a few of them.
The air in the room thickened. The commander said nothing more, but the weight of his words lingered. No one would look directly at me, but I felt it, that twinge of suspicion lurking behind the politeness. Rodrik looked down at his boots, thoughtful. Emil… just pressed his lips together and remained silent…
"Ma'am," Emil called in his most neutral tone. "The governor wants to see you."
The corridor leading to the command center was long and guarded. Not by normal soldiers, but by armed servo-skulls and mechanical sentries.
The door opened with a pressurized screech. Allowing me to see the room, it was designed to intimidate: thick walls, no windows, with only a blackened iron table in the center and seats for those deemed indispensable. I remained standing. Not out of symbolic choice, but because sitting seemed unnecessary.
It wasn't long before the door opened again, dragging icy air with it. Caerian strode forward, but his face spoke volumes. A mixture of tension, recognition, and carefully contained fear.
"Inquisitor," he greeted her with a slight nod, too measured to be a simple courtesy. It seemed more like a restrained bow.
"You have a title, well if you have people praying your name, you should have a title."
Thariel's voice sounded cheerful and intrigued.
"Governor Caerian," I replied, not moving.
He stopped three steps away from me. His gaze scanned me with military precision. He wasn't trying to understand me. He was just trying to gauge the risk.
"I'm not sure what you are," he said finally. "But I no longer have the luxury of questioning it."
I remained silent. Power, in these kinds of meetings, isn't demonstrated with words.
"The reports speak for themselves," he continued. "You appeared from the heart of the mountains, where nothing should ever have been. Then... the reports of your abilities are so unreal that the myths about you are beginning to convince me they're true."
—I'm not informed about what people in this world believe about me, much less how they came to know about me.
Caerian nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
—So you don't know what happened to many of them...
—That's what I hope to gain from this deal. Even if I didn't know about it, I feel a responsibility to the people who asked for help on my behalf.
"I'm sure that will please many of them." Caerian had a smile on his lips that didn't seem to reach his entire face, afraid of my reaction to the truth.
"I'm sorry, I tried to protect you, but I'm afraid the chaotic energy was harder to manipulate."
Yes, Thariel and I already knew that those who had summoned us had died, their voices silenced, and many had willingly sacrificed their lives to tear the veil around me, just so I could hear their pleas.
In view of this agreement being carried out fairly, I hope to learn more about your capabilities and how we might be able to help each other." The governor seemed serious despite his nervousness. "It's true that you sense it. You feel it. Whatever is happening in Magog, you know better than anyone here," he asked pleadingly.
—I don't know it completely. Not yet. But I've read about it, in other worlds, in other times, and almost always with the same fate.
—What are we up against? I've heard of Chaos, the empire's greatest enemy, and how I must always eradicate its cults and worshippers, but there's no information available about what we're up against and what's more than just a band of heretics.
—Information is dangerous, Governor. It's not there because of the temptation and despair it can cause in an ordinary person like you. I don't mean to disrespect you, but I'd die of fear if I knew even a fraction of what you were up against.
His fingers tightened on the table. He was trying to maintain his composure. I wondered how many sleepless nights he'd had.
"Are you with us, Inquisitor?" he asked with unfeigned seriousness.
"I'm in Magog," I replied. "That should be enough... for now."
The governor seemed to think about my answer; it was obvious that he found it insufficient, but he didn't want to press any further. "What do you want?"
—Access to everything. Archives, geological records, orbital scan data, troop movements, and autonomy to act, as well as information about those who belong to me.
Caerian hesitated for the first time.
—That's more than a traditional Inquisitor would ask for...
I took a step toward him. The sound of my boot echoed like a heartbeat.
—Although that seems to be the title given to me, I should not forget that it should not be associated with the empire. Governor, I am far from being a traditional inquisitor.
The man just remained silent.
—I understand. So... what do I get in return?
"Time," I said. "Time for your world not to fall in a week. Time for your people to live long enough to flee or resist. Time to decide if you'll be governor... or just another name on a tombstone forgotten by the Empire."
His shoulders dropped slightly. Not in defeat, but in resignation.