"You're back,"
Bergelmir said, his voice a low, mechanical hum amongst the ongoing training in the Underwoods.
A section of the living, wood-like wall, cleverly disguised by a seam of glowing moss, silently parted with a loud groan.
Kochav and Rouar emerged, leaving the steady Thrysan silence behind them.
Before them lay a massive, hollowed-out space within the trunk of an impossibly large, ancient tree.
The air, cool and crisp, carried the clean scent of wood, sap, and living flora. Dozens of figures moved with purpose under the dim, natural lights that pulsed gently from the fungi and glowing lichen clinging to the walls.
Beastmen, Kroot, and Felinids were meticulously exercising, their movements fluid and practiced, different formations with shields, spears, and simplified ranged weaponry.
The sight was a stark contrast to the savage, disorganized beastmen they had just encountered in the wild.
"Not a fun outing if you asked me," Kochav replied to Bergelmir's greeting, shrugging slightly.
—
"At least you can go outside," Bergelmir's flat voice stated.
—
"Well, can't help that you lit up the night with your visor and your steps aren't exactly quiet either, not to mention your-"
—
Before Kochav could finish, Bergelmir cut him off.
"Enough, I get your points. Did you get the Vox-Caster?" Bergelmir's voice cut Kochav off, a finality that brooked no argument.
—
"Rouar got it," Kochav answered, stepping away and pointing at Rouar who was behind him.
Bergelmir's glowing blue visor fixed on the Felinid, who was carrying the vox-caster on his back. Rouar, sensing the Terminator's gaze, stopped and let the device drop to the floor next to Bergelmir with a soft clatter.
—
"I will meet with her lady, you deal with this thing," Rouar said, walking past them, his lithe form moving with silent grace.
—
"What a gruffy kitty," Kochav said, crossing his arms, his eyes following the back of the Felinid until he left through another hallway.
—
"So, what is happening outside? I sensed the unsettling air around you," Bergelmir asked, his glowing visor fixed on Kochav. His flat tone held a hint of genuine curiosity.
"Same ol', Xarcarions everywhere. It took me quite a few days until I got this Unit, you know," Kochav answered, then continued,
"We ran into some other beastmen as well. Rouar said they were savages from the north."
—
"Savages from the north?" Bergelmir's voice resonated, the repetition a cold, thoughtful murmur.
"I can smell Helsin scheming," he finished with sharp speculation.
—
"Yeah, I also think they got something to do with this," Kochav nodded.
—
"We know nothing for certain. We will have to talk with the Aeldari," Bergelmir stated.
Some time later,in the pond room.
"What do you mean, you can't see!?" Kochav demanded clarity, his voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere of the room.
The plants shivered slightly, clearly disturbed, which made Shadowgaze let out an angered sigh.
—
"Does your barbaric nature overrule your common decency, Mon'keigh?" She locked eyes with Kochav, irritated.
"The Woodsway, which is fueled by my craftworld's soulstones, allows me to see through the senses of the Great Trees."
"All of my network is connected by their roots, transportation, reconnaissance, and sheltering. All is possible with the help of my people."
—
"Get to the point," Kochav said.
Shadowgaze's hazel eyes narrowed, her irritation hardening.
She walked over to a small, glowing sphere in the pond, her fingers tracing its intricate patterns.
"The point," she said, her voice a low, dangerous whisper,
"is that a portion of the Woodsway is blind. It is a sudden, dead space, a dark patch where the trees no longer sing."
"The soulstones are disconnected. Something has happened, something has severed the roots."
She finished, retrieved a soulstone from the pond, and then planted it under a flower in the nearby pot; the alien flower glowed slightly.
—
"My guess is that they burned down your trees, that would also sever the connection, right?" Kochav questioned.
—
"That's the first time something remotely intelligent has come out of your mouth, Mon'keigh," Shadowgaze answered,
which Kochav replied, "Thanks..." with an unenthusiastic tone.
Shadowgaze's lips curled into a faint sneer, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
She placed her hands behind her back, her gaze distant as she contemplated the problem.
"Whatever the cause may be, the sudden severance could damage the integrity of the soulstones." Her tone was subtle and serious.
"We will have to investigate, or I will be forced to retrieve all of them entirely." She finished, her gaze shifting between Kochav and Bergelmir.
—
"Got it, I'll get Rouar—" Kochav said, about to leave.
—
"No, this involves me as well," Shadowgaze interrupted.
"The day cycle will come soon. You will join us, too." She finished speaking, then locked eyes with Bergelmir.
The two humans just grunted in agreement.
—
They moved back to the training hall where Rouar was training the personnel, his commands sharp and precise, his lithe form moving among the Beastmen, Kroot, and Felinids with a calculating glance.
The moment Shadowgaze stepped into view, a profound and immediate silence fell over the chaotic hall. All of the Xenos bowed down, their movements a synchronized wave of respect and reverence.
Kochav vaulted over them and landed next to Rouar, now all of them waited for Shadowgaze to speak.
Shadowgaze walked through the silent hall, her gaze sweeping over the bowed heads with a serene, almost regal detachment.
The air in the cavern, once filled with the din of training and the clang of weapons, was now thick with an almost religious stillness.
Bergelmir stood silently behind her, his blue hue a jarring contrast to the natural color of the place.
"The savages from the North, the beastmen who refused to keep their noses off our territory, they disturbed and violated the sacred trees of the Underwoods."
She paused for a moment, letting the crowd rein in their emotion before continuing,
"Assemble a small warhost, a pathfinder team. We will split into two teams."
—
The crowd murmured as she addressed the commands.
"Who would be leading this warhost, my lady?" one of the Kroot asked, his deep voice carrying through the cavern.
—
Shadowgaze locked eyes with the speaker.
"I will personally see this through."
The crowd, already excited by the news, now grew even more animated at the prospect of their leader personally leading the charge. A low murmur of approval rippled through the gathered Xenos. Shadowgaze's voice, though not loud, cut through the noise,
"Order!" she shouted.
—
The murmur immediately ceased. Every head, from the hulking Beastmen to the lithe Felinids, was once again bowed in silent reverence. The air was thick with anticipation.
"The second team will be led by Rouar, with the Grey Knight accompanying you," she stated.
The murmuring returned, the atmosphere carrying a hint of fear and curiosity.
Bergelmir stepped forward and the crowd fixed on him; the silence returned by his sheer presence.
—
"What about the Rogue, my lady?" another one asked, pointing at Kochav who stood amongst them. Kochav just waved awkwardly with his right hand.
—
"Sadly, the stupefying Mon'keigh will come with me," Shadowgaze announced, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"We can't have his contagiously low intelligence spread uncontrollably."
She crossed her arms, fixed her eyes on Kochav, and all the Xenos followed suit.
—
The crowd booed in unison. Kochav just gave them a faint smile.
Moments later, the two teams were formed.
The first team, led by Shadowgaze and accompanied by Kochav, consisted of two Kroots and two Felinids. They were equipped with light armor and makeshift long rifles.
The second team was the frontline team, a much larger group. It was led by Rouar, with Bergelmir, and consisted of four hulking Beastmen and six Kroots. The Beastmen were heavily armored, holding large shields and wearing crude helmets, while the Kroots were equipped with long spears.
Kochav put on the same dark cloak as before, about to wear his beastman skull. He locked eyes with Bergelmir, grinning, and said,
"You will need to disguise as well, my friend."
Kochav, still grinning, retrieved a massive, dark cloak from a pile of supplies. It was crudely sewn together from the hides of several different Thrysan creatures, adorned with bones and woven vines.
The garment was huge, clearly designed to break up the shape of a large figure.
"Just a piece of fabric," Kochav said, tossing the bundle at Bergelmir.
"A lump of moving shadow is less noticeable than a glowing Astartes armor."
Bergelmir caught the cloak, a sigh escaping his vox-grill, then slowly began to put it on.
The Terminator's massive form was swallowed by the garment, turning him into a mountain of dark hides and bones.
The cloak's collar was adorned with black feathers, and he clipped it together before pulling the hood on.
His glowing visor was still visible under the shadow of the hood, but his hand reached to the top of the hood and found a bone-like structure.
He pulled the hood down, revealing a crude mask of stitched beastmen skulls, two mismatched tusks jutting from its sides.
Kochav just gave an approving nod before turning around, and put on his own mask.
With everyone ready and in position,
Shadowgaze led them toward a wall, whispered something alien into it.
A few seconds later the walls parted, revealing the Woodsway: the secret passage of the Underwoods.
They walked through it. The darkness greeted them, but a short moment later, the tunnel lit up with fireflies and bioluminescent fungi.
Then,
a sudden, blinding light hit them: the Thrysan daylight, which only comes once every two cycles of night.
The air was clear, and the environment was full of life. The alien flora and fauna in this area remained undisturbed.
Shadowgaze nodded to Rouar, signaling him to go forward.
Rouar closed his eyes and bowed down slightly, then signaled his men to follow. He locked eyes with Bergelmir and said,
"Northwestward we go."
Bergelmir said nothing back, and just proceeded in that direction.
—
Kochav walked beside Shadowgaze, then asked,
"How many trees are in this area anyway?"
—
"Three," she answered.
—
"Why are we only checking two? What about the other one?" He continued, leaping on a branch to scout forward. His eyes glowed blue, enhanced his vision with psychic power.
"No disturbance yet."
—
"The last one is in between. After we make contact with our trees, we will regroup at the last one," she finished after nodding for everyone to spread out.
"We should be close now, stay vigilant."
They split up further, Kochav and Shadowgaze, each with a pair of Kroot and Felinid equipped with long rifles.
They began to move around, circling the area with the tree in the middle around 200 meters away.
"Something is coming," a voice in Kochav's head whispered. Faint orange sparks emitted around him, a sign of his divination powers.
He raised a fist to signal his team to stop, then a heavy groaning of trees falling to the ground echoed through the forest.
A huge arachnid appeared, its long, moss-like hair camouflaging its legs, its body clad in a chitinous exoskeleton. Its underside was a shocking red, and its head was ant-like with large mandibles. Jagged spikes were unevenly formed on its back.
—
Kochav instinctively aimed his revolver, but the Felinid next to him just shook its head, telling him not to shoot.
—
"Not a threat, lower your weapon." The Felinid hissed at Kochav's aggressive approach.
—
"Sorry, my kind tend to shoot first then ask questions later," Kochav whispered, before slowly lowering his gun.
The colossal creature just gracefully walked past them, minding its own business. Everyone just looked at it with awe and fascination.
After the creature had passed, they continued moving forward. A sight before them angered the Xenos: the ground before them was charred, filled with burnt animal corpses and woods.
Kochav landed on the ground, the impact dissipating the thin layer of ember.
He crouched down, examining the tracks left by whoever ravaged this place: hoofprints. It was exactly what they were looking for.
He stood up, scanning for something else, bootprints of his friends perhaps.
But the longer he searched, the only things he found were the beastmen's tracks. A cold knot tightened in his gut.
He continued until he reached the center of the clearing, where a large, charred stump greeted him.
The great tree that had stood for millennia was now just a huge chunk of charcoal.
His face turned grim, not because of the dead tree, but because of the lack of proof that his friends had been here.
Shadowgaze walked over next to him.
She was visibly enraged, though her composure remained intact. She put her hand on the ground and closed her eyes.
After she felt there was no harmful presence in their environment, she signaled the rest of the team to gather.
The Felinids and Kroots with them hissed and growled in anger. The peaceful reverence of the Underwoods was gone, replaced by a tense, hostile air.
"This is the first time you've finally shut up, Mon'keigh," Shadowgaze remarked, her eyes scanning the area, lost in her own thoughts.
Her words, the usual Aeldari superiority insults, somehow brought him back to reality.
—
He took a deep breath, looked her way, and said,
"Well, I was just thinking of how many things I can do with free firewood for a lifetime." His usual retort and ignorance had returned.
Shadowgaze just scoffed at him.
It was unknown whether her intent was concern or simply bickering, but Kochav appreciated it all the same.
—
"If they are just Beastmen," Shadowgaze said.
"They would either go back to replenish for another assault or keep going further. The fact that we aren't fighting right now suggests the former."
—
"So, if they surprise us with something unexpected," Kochav whispered, speculating.
"Right," Shadowgaze finished, her voice flat,
"that would suggest your Mon'keigh friends are in the mix."
—
All of them turned, ready to proceed, when one of the Felinids spoke up, his voice low and cautious:
"My lady... is that within our expectations?"
He pointed skyward, past the canopy.
High above the treeline, something massive moved — not with the jerky rhythm of a beast, but with eerie, deliberate grace.
A shape emerged from the mist — silent, skeletal, and impossibly tall. For a moment, it seemed like part of the forest itself. Then the light shifted.
A pair of wings slowly unfurled.
Not feathered, not leathery — but something between bark and membrane, patterned with ridges like fossilized leaves, shifting ever so slightly in the wind. Beneath the canopy, the forest held its breath.
The Felinid stepped back instinctively.
From the shadows, its silhouette became clear: a towering creature with the posture of a theropod, the shape of something half-forgotten by nature.
Its limbs, long and backward-jointed, ended in talons that flexed with slow, patient strength. Moss dripped from its joints like old blood.
Then — it moved.
Not toward them.
It launched into the air with a single, ground-shattering kick.
The gust of wind from its wings nearly toppled a Kroot, scattering leaves and stirring the trees with a hollow rustle.
"Vraskariin," Shadowgaze whispered, her voice barely audible.
The Vraskariin vanished into the upper canopy — and for a long, breathless moment, the jungle was still.
Then came the sound.
CRACK!
Distant, but sharp. Like bone splitting under immense pressure.
Then another.
CRACK, THUNK, SHRIEKK!
A horrible, wet sound echoed through the trees — not human. Something massive struggling.
Limbs thrashing. A high-pitched screech cut through the jungle, alien and piercing, cut short with a final, stomach-churning crunch.
Silence.
Then the distant flutter of massive wings, fading again into the heights.
Kochav exhaled slowly, his revolver still raised.
"That… was the arachnid, wasn't it?" one of the Kroot whispered.
—
Shadowgaze nodded grimly. "And now it's gone."
The last echo of flapping wings faded into the jungle.
Silence reigned again, thick and uneasy.
Shadowgaze's squad stood frozen, rifles raised, eyes darting between treetops and underbrush.
The stillness was too complete—too final.
—
Then Kochav broke it, tilting his head slightly toward the sound.
"Do you think that was my friends doing?" Kochav asked, genuinely curious, as if remarking on a distant thunderstorm.
Shadowgaze turned toward him slowly, her gaze unreadable.
—
"The arachnid was not uncommon," she said.
"But that Vraskariin… even the beastmen won't go near one."
She paused.
"If someone deliberately lured it here, they must be reckless and stupid. A common trait in your kind, Mon'keigh."
With that, she gave a sharp nod and moved forward.
Kochav lingered for a moment, eyes drifting toward the treetops. He wasn't smiling. But something behind his gaze was.
—
"To the last tree, then," he murmured to himself. "East."
They moved eastward with ease, the only sound accompanying them the peaceful hum of the Thrysan forest—
Boom!
A sudden explosion tore through the stillness ahead. Bird-like shapes scattered into the sky, their screeches slicing the quiet.
Kochav let out a soft sigh.
"What is this comical timing?" he grumbled, slightly irritated.
Shadowgaze tilted her head toward the rising smoke.
—
"That is where the others are," she said flatly.
"Get moving—unless you plan on losing another comrade."
Her tone made it clear she meant Bergelmir.
They broke into a sprint, weaving through the dense underbrush, the rhythm of their footsteps drowned by the echo of the distant blast.
Trees blurred past, each one darker than the last, until even the shadows began to thin.
They passed the final tree. It was charred to the root, blackened and skeletal—freshly burned.
Kochav narrowed his eyes, heart hammering.
—
"There's no way something this small would kill him," he said aloud, as if daring the forest to disagree.
"Bombs wouldn't kill him. A swarm of beasts wouldn't kill him. Hell, maybe even an Exterminatus wouldn't kill him. I think..."
He didn't look at Shadowgaze when he said it, although the last one sounded ridiculous.
—
The forest ahead opened into scorched earth and rising smoke.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
The forest screamed under the storm of autocannon fire.
Trees burst apart mid-trunk. Leaves ignited in the air. Avians fled in panicked flocks, scattering skyward as the Hydra Flak Tank raked its guns in wild, sweeping arcs.
Explosions lit the canopy like false dawn.
And still,
Bergelmir stood—silent in the eye of the storm.
His massive form was cloaked in shadow. A tattered black cloak, scorched and heavy with age, draped over his Terminator armor like a burial shroud.
Beneath it, a faint gleam of ceramite flashed with every pulse from the runes etched into his plate—psychic wards, thrumming gently like the breath of a sleeping beast.
Behind him crouched Rouar, the felinid tracker. Even now, he remained unnervingly calm. His ears twitched once. He watched the trees ahead, lips curling into a grimace.
"Do we seriously have to run into Xarcarions now?" he growled.
Before them, the beastmen had dropped to one knee, tusks low, shields raised, hooves digging into the ground. Their wall—crude but unshakable—bristled like a cliff edge.
Behind them, Kroot spearmen fanned out, crouched low, ready to leap at a moment's call.
It should have held.
But it didn't.
The autocannon fire tore into them.
Shield after shield splintered. Flesh burst. Tusks and limbs went spinning. The front rank fell, then the second, crumpling beneath the weight of pure Imperial overkill.
The Kroot broke formation, some flung back in arcs of blood and bone before they even knew they were hit.
The forest echoed with pain and deaths.
Bergelmir didn't flinch.
Even as fire rained through the trees, even as beastmen were shredded like parchment and the forest floor turned to mulch and smoke—he remained still.
A long breath escaped his helm, distorted slightly by the vox-grill.
"For the first time in months, the sun greeted me," he said, his voice flat.
"And they showed up, damn Xarcarion bastards."
He stepped forward, cloak dragging across the scorched earth. Psychic heat shimmered off his armor as the runes along his gauntlets began to glow—not violently, but with the slow certainty of a rising storm.
Another barrage screamed overhead, turning a tall myceloid tree into flaming pulp. Kroot scattered to either side.
Rouar pressed himself flatter behind a root structure.
"We are doing something, or dying artistically?"
—
Bergelmir raised one hand—casually.
"I'm thinking," he said.
"Of a creative way to make them regret this."
The air bent subtly around his palm, crackling faintly. Somewhere behind the Hydra's firing line, a machine-spirit screamed.
With a sharp motion, Bergelmir's palm clenched into a fist and rose skyward.
The forest didn't stir.
But the Hydra did.
With a violent screech of rending metal, its turret tore free—ripped from its housing.
It hung for a split-second in the air, spinning end over end, then crashed somewhere deep in the trees with a shuddering crack of shattered wood and bone.
Silence followed.
The autocannons were no more.
Rouar blinked. "Remind me never to play cards with you."
—
Bergelmir exhaled slowly, dropping his arm.
"Now," he said, his voice flat, "let's greet the bastards."
—
A command tent, somewhere far from the battlefield.
Crackling static burst over the Vox-channel, followed by a confused, clipped voice.
"Hydra-3, do you copy? What was that—status?"
—
A second voice chimed in, more urgent.
"That explosion… was that friendly fire?"
—
"Negative, negative. We lost visuals—turret's gone. Ripped off clean."
—
A long pause.
"That wasn't munitions. That was kinetic displacement. Psyker."
—
"Psyker? Out here? Why would there be a psyker in this blackwater grove?"
—
"You think it's survivors from the crash?"
—
"Silence!"
A commanding voice cut through the vox-channel like a blade—calm, but laced with contempt. All chatter ceased in an instant.
"All survivors, fall back to Ivory(Command)-One. Now."
The tone left no room for questions. It was not a request—it was a sentence.
A synchronized chorus answered, voices tight with discipline.
"Yes, Commissar."
—
The Commissar didn't turn his head.
"Someone get the Merc on the line," he ordered, his voice low but absolute.
The vox-operator beside him flinched, then nodded quickly, fingers dancing over the cracked console.
—
Static crackled as he tried to establish a channel.
"Trying now, sir… rerouting signal through Relay Two."
The Commissar stared ahead, eyes like ice beneath his cap.
—
Static bled through the channel, followed by a soft click as the line connected.
A voice came through—smooth, casual, with the unmistakable edge void of emotion.
"Commissar Reyvis," the voice greeted him.
—
"Jaeger," Reyvis greeted back, then continued.
"More survivors, southeast from my location, kill or capture, your call."
A short pause.
—
"What about the current targets?" Jaeger asked.
—
"Leave someone to track them." Reyvis replied
—
"Roger."
Metal clicked—weapon getting checked.
The channel clicked off.