After pulling Elias out of Vael's interrogation, Fira presses him for more truth — not about his powers, but about his mind. Elias doesn't know what he is, only that he's being shaped into something dangerous. Meanwhile, Vael prepares the test — a patrol assignment into cult territory. He knows Elias won't die. But he wants to know what will come back.
----
The hall outside the interrogation chamber was narrow and cold — not in temperature, but in spirit.
Elias followed Fira in silence, his boots clanking on worn metal panels beneath their feet. Above them, pipes hissed and leaked steam in spurts. The walls were painted with caution runes — one of which had been scrubbed clean. Too clean.
Neither of them spoke until they were two corners and one security checkpoint away.
Then:
"Thanks," Elias said.
Fira didn't look at him. "I didn't do it for you."
"Sure."
They walked a little farther before she added, "...I did it because Vael doesn't ask questions to get answers. He already knows what he wants you to be."
Elias frowned. "And what's that?"
"A weapon. Or an excuse to purge the next ten kilometers."
They passed a broken window panel. Through it, Elias could see down into the hive sector they'd just left behind.
Smoke rose from the manufactorum stacks like industrial incense. Whole buildings had collapsed inward, forming jagged craters filled with debris, ash, and bodies too far away to count.
The light was yellow — always yellow — like the sun had given up and the sky refused to die.
He pressed his hand to the glass, just for the feel of something solid.
"I didn't lie to him," he said.
Fira raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"I told him I didn't know what I am."
She studied his reflection for a long moment.
"You do a pretty good impression of a man. Most people would've cracked under that stare."
Elias smiled faintly. "That wasn't the worst interrogation I've had."
Fira crossed her arms. "You're full of holes. No history. No scans. No files. And your eyes… they're different. They move too fast. Like they're always measuring something."
"I am."
"I figured."
They turned into a side alcove — quiet, away from patrols. A flickering shrine glowed nearby, showing a painting of Saint Drusus driving a power sword through a daemon's chest. Wax seals melted down the frame. Someone had written "We die alone, so He doesn't have to." in blood across the bottom.
Fira leaned against the wall. Her face was more tired than angry now.
"You don't belong here, Mercer."
"I've noticed."
"Don't get cute. I mean it. You're not one of us. You weren't raised in the Creed. You don't worship the Emperor. You're not afraid of the Inquisition. You're… foreign."
Elias looked at her, quiet. Then: "Are you going to shoot me for it?"
Fira looked away.
"No," she said. "I'm going to warn you."
She stepped close — not threatening, just personal.
"People like you don't survive long. Not because you're weak. But because you're wrong. The galaxy doesn't allow wrong things to live very long."
Elias's voice was low.
"I'm not going anywhere yet."
Fira met his gaze.
"Then you'd better learn fast."
At that moment, her vox clicked.
Kael's voice, rough with static:
"Vorn. Mercer's new assignment came through. Dispatch to Squad Theta. Forward recon. Sub-sector Nine. Cult breach. No support."
Fira swore under her breath.
"Standard patrol?" she asked into the vox.
"Negative. Suicide run. They're not calling it that, but we all know. Three-man team. He's on it."
Elias looked at her.
"Is this the part where you say you tried?"
Fira shook her head.
"No. This is the part where I get you gear and pray you don't come back worse."
Fifteen minutes later, Elias stood in an armory chamber — stripped down, bandaged, armored in scavenged flak plates. He wore a partial recon harness, laspistol at his side, stub revolver on his thigh, and a curved trench knife strapped to his back.
A field cloak hung from one shoulder — too short, but good for cover.
Fira approached, handing him a small injector.
"Combat stim. Not for healing. For staying alive five seconds longer than you should."
"Useful."
She handed him a second.
"This one's for if you come back seeing things."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "Will I?"
Fira's expression was grim.
"Probably."
Outside, the dropship engines warmed on the pad.
A trooper waved them over.
Elias strapped the last of his gear on and turned to Fira.
"Tell Vael I'll bring him back a souvenir."
Fira didn't smile.
She just said, "Don't die with your back turned. Chaos loves that."
As the dropship lifted off, Elias sat between two silent soldiers, neither making eye contact.
The sky above was the same color as the grave.
And far below, something waited.
[END OF PART 2]