Aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty, in the Navigator Sanctum, only the Legion's Chief Navigator, Wissel, was present.
She pulled back her ornate headband, revealing her third eye.
She looked into the Warp.
Emotions and sensations formed a thick mist that even psykers could not penetrate. But her third eye allowed her to see the warp and weft of the mist.
She merged the star chart with her own Warp manifestation, a deep canyon.
Focusing on her Navigator's way, she searched the countless paths for the one Lord Nareth had specified.
The canyon was unusually deep. The mist grew thicker. The path was difficult to discern.
She opened her mind. Her third eye opened wide.
The mist rapidly thinned. She gradually saw the canyon's contours.
She placed Viziole on a slope, tracing the hill's contours, searching for the path.
SSSS!
She felt a slimy tentacle, seemingly there, yet not, wrap around her neck, climbing towards her eye.
She quickly pulled down her silver headband, shivering in the empty, frost-covered sanctum.
After a long time, the phenomenon faded. Her clothes floated. She recited the Wissel Bible.
Then, she opened the vox system. "Begin the communion ritual!"
Deep in Sak'trada Deeps, under the light of a dark grey star, almost black.
With a click, the blinds lowered. Nareth stood before the floor-to-ceiling viewport, staring into the void.
Light and shadow flickered in the Primarch's eyes. His gaze pierced the void.
The system seemed no different, except for that planet.
A veil seemed to shroud it.
Arsena Dunn ended his call and spoke.
"My Lord, I have reviewed all departmental reports. No anomalies."
"But Chief Navigator Wissel reports the mist was exceptionally thick when she charted the route."
"This is unusual, especially with a clear star chart."
'Shadow power.' Nareth nodded. "I understand."
"Auspex to full power. Scan the system."
Three solar days later, a black Stormbird launched from the Shadow's Sovereignty.
The pilot, Nelson, repeatedly checked all auspex systems, then opened his comm to report the anomaly to his gene-father.
"Father, the auspex arrays are flickering irregularly. Intervals range from seconds to tens of seconds. Different systems lose signal for milliseconds."
"I also feel..." the "Winner" said, uncertain, "that fate here is disturbed. There is a dissonance."
The gyrinx John's eyes were deep. He scratched the deck uneasily.
"I feel it too..."
As Sequence 5 "Winners," they had begun to actively control their own luck, accumulating it through self-restraint.
Now, the flow of fate was blurred, impossible to grasp.
"Target rune C-6. Altitude one kilometer."
Nareth set down his data-slate. The auspex matrix master had submitted a rather brief report.
The matrix had not even detected life signs. The only guide was the energy fluctuations captured by the aetheric reader.
He chose the location with the highest energy reading. It was the most likely place to find the Blade of Shadows.
After giving the order, he picked up the Osiris mind staff.
Knowing the Blade of Shadows not only ignored defenses but could also harm the non-material realm, he did not enter the Enumeration to release his light body.
As he shook the blue staff, light and shadow flickered in the Primarch's eyes.
His gaze deepened. The physical world faded. Points of mental light on the surface rapidly enlarged.
Ripples of intense emotion and primal impulse rippled in his eyes. He saw moaning purple vortices, pustules of green fear...
Rough, hard red reefs shook. Ripples spread. Red vortices spun and grew.
'The target location is a battlefield.'
'Hmm, after the man from the divination obtained the Blade of Shadows and his power increased, one of his possible actions is to launch a series of campaigns to conquer the world.'
As he thought, he set down the staff. He did not zoom in on the blood-red vortex. Not only his light body, but even his mind's eye could be harmed.
He remembered that the one who got the Blade of Shadows was a psyker. With a relic, he might sense mental probing.
Through the narrow viewport, the battlefield came into view.
He was surprised. It was nothing like his imagined image of the wielder of a greatsword rampaging and slaughtering freely.
The battlefield was chaos. Naked humans, their bodies painted with the Chaos eight-pointed star in blood, had no clear allegiances.
A burly man, his arm merged with a great axe, split a woman covered in spines, her waist twisting violently, then lunged at a fat, pus-covered man.
A pale giant, surrounded by flies, laughing, slammed his fists down, crushing a thin figure with nine strange eyes, holding a black wooden staff.
"Open the hatch."
He gave the order, then flew out on his golden wings.
He circled, taking in the entire battlefield.
Thick, viscous blood covered the plain.
The shrieks of the dead echoed, lingering in his ears.
The Primarch felt a stir. Light and shadow flickered in his eyes. In the thick, red mist, the souls of the dead did not rise to the Sea of Souls.
They were drawn down, into the hazy shadow.
'Death. Soul. Shadow…'
'Sacrifice. Blade of Shadows.'
Inspiration struck.
'Hmm, Tech-Priest Kober thought he was doing archaeology, but was actually being manipulated by Be'lakor to gather his relics.'
'Then, the one who got the Blade of Shadows may not be its master. Be'lakor may control more than one.'
With this thought, he focused.
The black wolf Freddy leaped. Black mist churned. He sprouted four legs.
The maddened Chaos worshippers' eyes lost their red. Their movements slowed.
In the softly echoing poetry, their tense muscles relaxed.
They dropped their weapons, falling to the ground in a series of thuds.
Nareth looked at the ground, at the point where the ætheric blood mist was drawn.
Light flickered in his eyes. He thrust his right hand. Telekinesis spread.
BOOM!
The ground shook violently. A fissure opened.
His wings beat. He flew into the deep crack.
The gyrinx John leaped. Crackling sounds came from his paws, exceptionally harsh in the silent battlefield.
The Primarch tore through layers of rock, advancing over a kilometer in moments.
The blood-red mist suddenly vanished. Darkness spread. He saw malevolent eyes and a figure vaguely resembling the blurred figure from the divination.
He was nearly three meters tall. One hand held a greatsword, taller and wider than himself.
His chest was split open. A row of sharp teeth trembled.
On his right chest was a blood-red Chaos eight-pointed star.
His left arm raised a staff. The ætheric blood-red mist churned. The shrieks of souls from other battlefields echoed, drawn to an altar.
The altar was connected to an obsidian staircase, the entrance to the underground.
To reach the altar quickly, he had not wasted time searching for the hidden entrance. He had forced his way.
He keenly noticed the altar seemed unreal, as if it did not truly exist in reality.
The Chaos eight-pointed star blazed with blinding light. In the gap between matter and void, a shadow-wrapped, blade-sharp claw tore the veil, bit by bit.
'Indeed, he is performing a sacrificial ritual.'
'His victory was likely orchestrated by Be'lakor. Psykers are better able to understand and perform rituals.'
He stared at the greatsword. Its dazzling spiritual luster was mesmerizing.
'Be'lakor, you lost it. Don't think you can take it back.'
'Not only the Blade of Shadows, but the other relics as well.'
As he thought, shadows spread, obscuring the altar's blazing light.
The psyker let out an inhuman, piercing shriek, like a bat or a vulture.
His left arm burst. His staff aimed at the altar, unleashing a deep light.
His right arm swung the greatsword, striking at Nareth.
.....
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