"This is the crossroads of fate—Ice Moon: Klaisus."
"Here, the destinies of Eldar and mankind will intertwine, until the touch of Chaos recedes to whence it came."
Eldrad Ulthran, Farseer of Ulthwé, explained their mission to Yvraine, Iyanna, and other Ynnari leaders.
They watched from the Webway in another dimension as Imperial and Chaos forces clashed on the ice.
Black Templar Astartes, Sisters of Battle, the Imperial Guard, and the Mechanicus fought beneath the feet of Imperial Knights.
The noise of battle filled the skies, the carnage unrelenting—broken bodies lay everywhere.
Wounded and dying crawled through pools of blood seeking safety.
"Who is that?"
Yvraine pointed at a Terminator-armored Astartes hopping through the battlefield—
He bore no insignia.
For Astartes, whose honor is everything, this was abnormal.
Only those who felt they'd shamed their chapter would erase their colors.
Stranger still, this warrior kept tossing out boxes, which, through some magic, stacked into defensive walls, creating cover for the Imperials.
The Eldar had never seen such a bizarre ability.
Meanwhile, Black Templar Marshal Amalrich, Emperor's Champion Galien, and Living Saint Celestine were all focused on intercepting Abaddon, who was now completely unhinged, sending his men on suicide charges and vowing to show the nameless warrior the full embrace of the Warp.
What had this unknown done to enrage the Despoiler so?
"This one…"
Eldrad narrowed his eyes.
This human was not in his visions.
Another twist of fate?
"Perhaps just a nobody,"
Iyanna mused, but she, too, watched the nameless warrior closely.
She was a Spiritseer from Iyanden, also blessed with foresight.
"No mere nobody could anger the Despoiler so. Fate has shifted. We must tread carefully,"
said Harlequin Shadowseer Sylandri.
"No matter—our task is to help these forces escape Abaddon's grasp, to reach Macragge and revive Roboute Guilliman."
"Only the Emperor's son can unite humanity against Chaos. If Chaos prevails, every race in the galaxy—including us—will perish."
Eldrad silenced the others, then nodded to Yvraine.
She used psychic fire to trace runes on the gate, opening a portal.
As the Webway linked the labyrinthine dimension to the frozen world, wind and mist swirled within.
The Ynnari burst out, attacking the Chaos horde.
….
Archmagos Cawl, staff in hand, stood by the transports, ready to die for a ten-millennia-old alliance.
Even with the mysterious angel's help, the Imperials were doomed—
They were too few, and low on ammo.
If only the angel had come before Cadia's Blackstone Obelisk fell,
they might have defeated the Despoiler easily.
But now, it was too late.
Just then, a strange, ancient structure lit up, forming a corridor.
A group of elegant, armored warriors materialized, assailing the Chaos horde.
Cawl instantly recognized them—Eldar.
Dark Reapers from Ulthwé led the charge,
followed by the Coven of Commorragh, Biel-Tan, and other Craftworld warriors.
Shuriken storms and dazzling beams rained down, Jetbikes sliced through the ice, blades reaping daemons and traitors alike.
Every move exuded grace and power, as if staging a ballet of death.
The tide turned in an instant—
Chaos, once dominant, was routed.
"Damn Xenos!"
Abaddon fumed.
These Eldar were clearly here to aid the Corpse Emperor's lackeys.
The Despoiler knew—he could not stop their escape.
If he kept fighting, his elite Black Legion would be lost.
He had to preserve his strength for future plans.
"Retreat!"
Abaddon ordered, giving up the chase.
He withdrew with his bodyguards and sorcerers,
his eyes locked on Datch,
eyes brimming with hatred as if he'd devour the nameless Space Marine.
"I will kill you."
Abaddon snarled.
Datch: …
Heh, an NPC dares threaten me?
Isn't this a bit backwards?
Good thing this isn't Stellaris, or I'd open the console and hard-force it!
Datch cupped his hands and shouted,
"Glory to the Luna Wolves!"
Abaddon's body shook with rage.
This bastard was doing it on purpose.
From now on, the Despoiler declared:
the Emperor was the most hated in the galaxy, and this foul-mouthed fool was second.
"Hastur Sejanus asked me to tell you—he's waiting for you in hell, you shameless coward who doomed your Legion."
"Also, I'll spread this tale in three parts and nine chapters, and hire storytellers to recount how you betrayed your Primarch, the Emperor, and sold out to Chaos for your warlord's seat!"
Abaddon, retreating, was so furious his eyes turned blood-red—he looked ready to kill.
His guards and sorcerers dragged him into a Warp rift, teleporting him back to the Vengeful Spirit to keep him from losing his mind again.
Nearby, Inquisitor Greyfax stared at Datch.
How did this guy know so many dark secrets? What an arch-heretic!
Cawl, ten thousand years old, was also surprised.
He'd preserved many records from the Horus Heresy.
Only those from that era would know such names and events:
Luna Wolves—original name of the XVI Legion under Horus.
After Ullanor, they became the Sons of Horus.
Hastur Sejanus was Captain of the Fourth Company, a member of the Mournival, and Horus' beloved son.
During the Great Crusade, Sejanus was murdered trying to negotiate the return of a lost human civilization.
Gavriel Loken replaced him in the Mournival.
All information on this should have been sealed or destroyed.
Who was this nameless warrior, and how did he know all this?
…