Ursarkar E. Creed
For four days, the daemons had not come. Creed trusted their absence less than he trusted their attacks.
The guns beyond Kasr Kraf still spoke from time to time. Traitor artillery sent shells screaming against the outer walls, and scattered warbands continued to test the surviving approaches. Cadian patrols had exchanged fire with cultists in the ruins north of the city. Twice, enemy aircraft had crossed the western defence line before being driven away.
But the great assaults had stopped.
No tides of daemons had poured from the Eye. No Traitor Astartes had marched against the gates beneath banners of flayed skin. No corrupted Titans had advanced through the smoke.
The armies of Chaos had withdrawn beyond the range of Kasr Kraf's remaining guns and stayed there.
They had not fled. Reconnaissance flights and long-range augurs confirmed that much. The enemy still surrounded the fortress-city in numbers large enough to drown it. They were moving troops, repairing engines, and building new positions beyond the horizon.
They were waiting for something and Creed wanted to know why.
The strategium beneath Kasr Kraf's central citadel had survived the siege better than the command levels above it. Its walls were cracked, several lumen strips had failed, and dust fell from the ceiling whenever distant artillery struck the city. Nevertheless, the hololithic table still functioned. A pale image of Cadia hovered above its surface, surrounded by fleet positions, defence lines, and casualty reports.
Above the representation of the planet hung a second image. The Will of Eternity.
The Blackstone Fortress appeared as a jagged shadow above Cadia, too vast for the hololith to display at the same scale. Warning runes surrounded it. Every few seconds, another estimate appeared beside the fortress and contradicted the one before it.
At the edge of the system display, a single amber rune pulsed beneath a veil of uncertainty markers.
The Phalanx.
Three hours earlier, one of Cadia's surviving astropathic stations had intercepted a broken transmission suggesting that the Imperial Fists' fortress-monastery had entered the Cadian sector.
The message had been incomplete, distorted by the Warp, and possibly hours out of date. Creed had told no one beyond Kell. Rumour was not reinforcement, and hope built upon an unconfirmed signal could kill an army as surely as artillery.
Still, he had ordered the marker placed upon the display. Creed did not rely upon miracles. He prepared for the possibility that one might arrive.
Creed had summoned every leader whose forces still mattered to the defence of Kasr Kraf.
Jarran Kell stood at his right shoulder, one hand resting near the hilt of his sword. The tattered colours of the Cadian Eighth rose behind him. Shell fragments had scarred his armour, but his posture remained as rigid as it had been at the beginning of the invasion.
Logistar-General Conskavan Raik occupied the other side of the table.
Dataslates surrounded him in ordered stacks while casualty figures and supply projections moved across the lenses of his spectacles.
Supreme Commissar Audaria Zabine stood beside him, severe and motionless in her black coat.
Commissar Ciaphas Cain had taken a place near the end of the table. The Hero of the Imperium appeared unusually relaxed for a man trapped on a doomed world beneath a planet-killing fortress.
Inquisitor Talia Daverna stood apart from everyone else. Her rosette hung openly against her armour, ensuring that no one could forget the authority she represented.
Magos Klarn waited near her, surrounded by the quiet clicking of mechanical limbs and coils of incense drifting from his censers.
The Adeptus Astartes had gathered opposite them.
Marshal Marius Amalrich stood in black armour beneath the cross of the Black Templars. Wolf Lord Orven Highfell loomed beside him, his armour decorated with pelts, teeth, and fresh marks from the battle. Master Korahael of the Dark Angels remained slightly removed from both, his hood shadowing a face that revealed nothing.
A blue-white hololithic image of Baroness Neeve Vardus flickered above a projector near the table. The Knight pilot had refused to leave Cold Iron while the enemy remained within striking distance, so she attended the council from her throne mechanicum.
Then there was Saint Celestine.
The Living Saint stood beneath the fractured aquila at the chamber's entrance. Her wings were folded behind her, their radiance turning the drifting dust to gold. Eleanor and Genevieve waited on either side of her with their hands resting near their weapons.
The warrior between them drew Creed's attention more than all the others combined.
Creed had watched him through magnoculars during the final hours of the western battle. He had seen the stranger enter a killing zone that had swallowed entire companies. He had watched daemon weapons strike the green armour without leaving a mark. He had watched the warrior tear through creatures that had broken Cadian tanks and kill Traitor Astartes as though their ancient war plate were no more protection than cloth.
Then the stranger had faced Urkanthos.
Creed remembered the daemon prince's death clearly. He remembered the burning red sword appearing in the warrior's hands. He remembered Urkanthos losing limb after limb, his unnatural regeneration failing wherever the blade touched him.
Urkanthos had not merely died. The Slayer had dismantled him piece by piece until nothing remained.
The stranger stood beside Celestine without speaking. He was larger than any unaugmented man, though smaller than the Space Marines across the table. White discoloration covered the dark green plates of his armour. For some reason he had no weapons on him, Creed wandered where those weapons he used went.
Everyone in the chamber watched him with unease.
Creed placed both hands against the edge of the hololithic table.
"Logistar-General, begin," Creed ordered.
Raik touched the nearest dataslate. New figures appeared above the table.
"It has been ninety-one hours since the last confirmed mass daemonic manifestation within the Kasr Kraf defence region. Enemy artillery activity has fallen by sixty-three percent. Armoured movement continues beyond the northern and western approaches, but none of those formations has advanced within engagement range," Raik reported.
"They are not withdrawing," Creed said.
"No, Lord Castellan. Their numbers have increased during the same period. Conservative estimates place another six hundred thousand mortal troops beyond our outer auspex range. Estimates for Traitor Astartes and daemonic reserves remain unreliable," Raik continued, enlarging the red formations surrounding the city.
"Meaning endless," Highfell said, showing his fangs in something that was not quite a smile.
"Meaning unconfirmed," Raik corrected him.
"On Cadia, those words have become interchangeable," Cain observed.
A low growl of amusement escaped Highfell. No one else laughed.
"Their fleet has also changed formation. The lighter vessels have withdrawn behind the Blackstone Fortress. The larger ships are concentrating around the Vengeful Spirit," Korahael said.
"Preparing to defend their command vessels," Amalrich said.
"Or clearing a path for something else," Korahael replied.
Baroness Vardus's projection flickered as weapons fire briefly interfered with the connection.
"My auspex has detected engine signatures gathering beyond the western ridge. Titans among them. They are holding beyond effective range, but they are not idle," Vardus reported.
"The enemy has no reason to hurry. They possess the orbital advantage. Every hour we spend repairing these walls is an hour in which that fortress prepares to erase them," Daverna said.
Her gaze moved toward the image of the Will of Eternity.
The room fell silent.
Creed studied the gathered commanders. Every face bore the cost of the siege. Fatigue showed even upon the transhuman features of the Astartes. Armour had been repaired with plates from the dead. Bandages showed beneath robes and uniforms. None of them possessed enough soldiers, ammunition, or time.
Yet they had come. These were the people upon whom Cadia's defence now rested. They were also gathered around the one person none of them understood.
Creed turned toward Celestine.
"Before we decide our next move, there is someone you must introduce," Creed said.
Every gaze returned to the armoured stranger.
Celestine stepped forward.
"He calls himself the Doom Slayer," Celestine said.
The name moved through the chamber in murmurs. Klarn repeated it in a burst of binharic static. Highfell's smile widened. Daverna's expression hardened.
The Slayer gave no indication that he had heard any of them.
"Is he human?" Daverna asked.
"He was born human," Celestine answered.
"That was not my question," Daverna said.
Golden light brightened along the edges of Celestine's wings.
"Then ask the question you truly mean," Celestine replied.
Daverna faced the Slayer directly.
"Are you a creature of the Warp?" Daverna asked.
"No," the Slayer answered.
His voice was quiet, but its weight filled the chamber.
Daverna waited for more. Nothing came.
"I attempted to examine his essence. What resides within him belongs neither to the Warp nor to material reality as we understand it. I found no corruption and no allegiance to the Ruinous Powers," Celestine said.
"You found something, nevertheless," Daverna said.
" I sensed immense power. More than I can measure," Celestine replied.
Klarn's ocular lenses rotated toward the Slayer.
"Preliminary auspex interrogation supports the saint's conclusion. The subject's armour, weapons, and biological structure return mutually incompatible readings. Several instruments ceased functioning when directed toward him. Dimensional residue is present, but it does not correspond to recorded Warp translation," Klarn said.
"Your machines failing proves very little," Zabine said.
"Correction: their manner of failure proves a great deal," Klarn replied.
"Where did he come from?" Creed asked.
Celestine looked toward the Slayer before answering.
"He comes from another Terra, from another humanity in another universe entirely," Celestine said.
For the first time, the calm around the table fractured.
Raik removed his spectacles and cleaned lenses that were already spotless. Zabine whispered something beneath her breath. Amalrich's gauntlet tightened around the pommel of his sword. Even Cain's carefully relaxed expression disappeared.
"You expect us to accept that?" Daverna asked.
"I expect nothing. I am telling you what I learned," Celestine replied.
"From him?" Daverna asked.
"From him, from what I sensed, and from what I witnessed," Celestine answered.
Eleanor stepped forward before the inquisitor could respond.
"We watched him battle Urkanthos. The daemon prince struck him again and again, but none of those blows could reach or cause him harm," Eleanor said.
"More importantly, Urkanthos did not regenerate after the Slayer drew his sword. When the battle ended, nothing returned to the Warp," Genevieve added.
"You claim he destroyed a daemon's soul," Amalrich said.
"I felt its absence. Urkanthos is gone for good," Celestine answered.
Creed held Celestine's gaze.
"You said his power was beyond your measure. Give this council some sense of what that means," Creed said.
Celestine looked toward the Slayer. He neither encouraged nor restrained her.
"I cannot measure him against any mortal standard," Celestine said. "In raw strength, and in the power he carries, I believe he may rival or even exceed the Emperor."
For one suspended heartbeat, even the distant artillery seemed to fall silent.
Amalrich's gauntlet closed around the pommel of his sword. Zabine went rigid. Klarn's mechadendrites froze in midair. Several officers stared at Celestine as though they had misheard her.
Daverna recovered first.
"That is blasphemy," the inquisitor said.
"No mortal rivals the Master of Mankind," Amalrich said, his voice dangerously low.
"I did not call the Slayer divine, nor do I place him above the Emperor in holiness or authority," Celestine replied. "He does not even consider himself a god. I speak only of the raw strength he possesses."
"Narrowing the meaning does not make the words less heretical," Daverna warned.
"My devotion is not in question, Inquisitor," Celestine said. "I have died in the Emperor's service and returned by His grace. I know how impossible this sounds. I struggled to accept it myself."
Celestine let her gaze pass over the chamber before continuing.
"But Urkanthos was not banished," Celestine said. "The Slayer destroyed him so completely that nothing remained to return to the Warp. Since then, I have heard his story, of the Hell he fought, the worlds he crossed, and the ages he endured. I have weighed his words against what I sensed and what I witnessed. I believe him. More than that, I believe in him."
Had anyone else spoken those words, Daverna might already have ordered an execution, and Amalrich might have carried it out. But they had come from the Living Saint, from a warrior who had died with the Emperor's name upon her lips and returned by His will.
The outrage remained, but no one in the chamber could dismiss her testimony without also questioning one of the Imperium's most devoted servants.
The Black Templar studied the Slayer with new intensity.
"I will not name him the Emperor's equal," Amalrich said. "But I cannot deny what happened to Urkanthos."
"Then believe your own eyes," Highfell replied.
"He also spent the hours after the battle clearing daemons and cultists from the city. He saved civilians when there was no tactical advantage in doing so," Genevieve said.
Cain glanced toward the Slayer.
"Whatever else he may be, he appears to have chosen the correct targets," Cain observed.
"Appearances are the favourite weapon of the Archenemy," Daverna warned.
Kell shifted beside Creed.
"If he intended to kill us, I doubt this room would stop him," Kell said.
Several hands moved closer to weapons.
"That was not reassurance, Sergeant," Zabine said.
"It was an assessment," Kell replied.
Creed kept his attention on the Slayer.
"Why are you here?" Creed asked.
"I was brought here by a portal," the Slayer answered.
"By whom?" Creed asked.
"I do not know," the Slayer replied.
"And what do you want?" Creed asked.
The Slayer finally looked away from the fortress.
"I want the daemons dead," the Slayer answered.
Highfell released another quiet laugh.
"I like him," Highfell declared.
"Your approval does not establish his loyalty," Daverna said.
"No. His actions do," Creed agreed.
Daverna turned toward him.
"Lord Castellan…" Daverna began.
"I watched him enter our lines without attacking a single Imperial soldier. I watched him kill the creature leading the assault. Since then, every report involving him ends with dead servants of Chaos and living Cadians. Until that changes, he is not our enemy," Creed continued.
Daverna did not look satisfied.
Creed had not expected her to be. He turned back toward the hololith.
"Now we decide what to do with the time he purchased," Creed said.
The argument began almost immediately.
Raik wanted another forty-eight hours to reinforce the inner districts and redistribute ammunition. Zabine demanded that the surviving regiments be reorganized before exhaustion destroyed their discipline. Highfell favoured an armoured offensive against the western concentrations before the enemy completed its preparations. Amalrich agreed that they could not remain behind the walls, though he wanted the attack directed toward the captured shrine and null-array.
Korahael opposed both plans.
"Any ground offensive exposes our remaining armour to bombardment from orbit. Until the Blackstone Fortress is neutralized, territory has no meaning," Korahael said.
"We possess nothing capable of neutralizing it," Raik replied.
"Then our priority must be survival," Zabine said.
"Survival for how long? My Knights can break another assault. Perhaps two. They cannot duel a fortress in orbit," Vardus said through the hololith.
"The planetary shields remain damaged. Restoration estimates are unacceptable. If the fortress fires at full capacity, Kasr Kraf will cease to exist," Klarn reported.
"Then we disperse the command structure. Separate the enemy's principal targets and prepare contingencies for the loss of the city," Daverna said.
"Cadia is not surrendering Kasr Kraf," Kell said.
"Cadia may not be given a choice," Daverna replied.
Voices rose around the table.
Creed listened until arguments became repetition. He pressed two fingers against his temple as Highfell and Amalrich disputed the route of an offensive neither possessed the troops to launch. Raik continued presenting numbers that worsened with every projection. Daverna spoke of preserving Imperial command while Zabine insisted that abandoning the fortress-city would shatter morale across the planet.
Cain remained silent now. His eyes had settled upon the Slayer. The Slayer had not moved. Then he spoke.
"Give me a ship," the Slayer said.
The chamber fell silent. Creed lowered his hand from his temple.
"What kind of ship?" Creed asked.
The Slayer pointed toward the Blackstone Fortress.
"One that can reach it," the Slayer answered.
Raik stared at him.
"Reach it for what purpose?" Raik asked.
"I will board it. I will kill Abaddon and destroy the fortress," the Slayer said.
For several seconds, no one responded. Then disbelief broke across the chamber.
"That is not a plan," Raik said.
"It is madness," Daverna declared.
"It has admirable simplicity," Cain observed.
Highfell barked a laugh loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling.
"Now I truly like him," Highfell said.
Amalrich did not share the Wolf Lord's amusement.
"The Will of Eternity is larger than cities. Its passages hold entire armies. A single warrior cannot conquer it," Amalrich said.
"I don't need to conquer it," the Slayer replied.
"What do you need?" Korahael asked.
"A way inside," the Slayer answered.
Klarn's mechadendrites twitched as calculations poured across his lenses.
"Projected probability of successful approach by an unsupported assault craft is less than one-tenth of one percent. Projected probability of locating and disabling the fortress's critical systems without internal schematics is functionally negligible," Klarn calculated.
"Your calculations assume he can be killed," Celestine said.
Klarn's lenses refocused upon her.
"All biological organisms can be terminated," Klarn replied.
"Not this one," Celestine said.
Daverna's expression sharpened.
"Explain that statement," Daverna demanded.
"His body cannot be harmed, and his essence cannot be destroyed. He has fought across worlds and realities for longer than human civilization has existed. The armies of his Hell could not kill him. They could only imprison him, and even that did not last," Celestine answered.
No one scoffed this time.
Creed watched the Slayer rather than Celestine. The warrior showed no pride in the description. No satisfaction. He simply stood beneath the image of the fortress and waited.
"You believe he can do this?" Creed asked.
"I do," Celestine answered. "I watched him destroy what should have been immortal, and I have heard enough of his past to know that Urkanthos was not an exception. If anyone can enter that fortress and return, it is him."
"Faith is not a substitute for fleet support," Korahael said.
"Then provide what support remains," Celestine replied.
"You would send him alone?" Eleanor asked.
Celestine looked toward the Slayer.
"No. I will go with him," Celestine said.
Both Geminae reacted at once.
"My lady, the defenses need you here," Eleanor protested.
"And he does not require protection," Genevieve added.
"I am not offering protection. I am offering assistance. If Abaddon is aboard that fortress, then the Slayer's purpose and ours are the same," Celestine said.
"You would entrust yourself to an entity whose origin cannot be verified?" Daverna asked.
"I would stand beside a warrior who has already defended our people," Celestine replied.
"And if he turns upon you?" Daverna pressed.
"Then you will learn whether your fears were justified," Celestine answered.
Golden fire stirred along the exposed guard of the Ardent Blade. Daverna's hand drifted toward her weapon, but she did not draw it.
Creed looked down at the tactical display. Keeping the Slayer on Cadia was the safer choice.
The stranger had broken the western assault almost alone. If the armies of Chaos returned, his presence could preserve Kasr Kraf for days, perhaps weeks or even months. Creed could position him wherever the line weakened and let the enemy exhaust itself against something it could not kill.
It was the obvious move. It was also meaningless if the Blackstone Fortress fired.
Creed did not make decisions upon faith alone. Celestine's word, revered though it was, could not by itself decide the fate of a world.
But her words did not stand alone.
Creed had seen the Slayer break the western assault. He had watched Urkanthos come apart beneath that burning blade and seen the daemon prince's impossible regeneration fail.
Every report since then told the same story: daemons destroyed, cultists rooted from hiding, civilians pulled from ruins, and Cadian lives preserved. Celestine had examined the Slayer's essence, heard his history, and offered to stake her own life beside him. One of the Emperor's most devoted servants would not compare any being to Him lightly.
Her certainty did not make the claim comfortable. It made the evidence impossible to ignore.
Creed had spent his life studying war as though it were a board upon which every regiment, tank, and fortress possessed a value. Victory came from knowing what could be sacrificed, what had to be protected, and when a single piece mattered more than an entire formation.
The Doom Slayer did not belong upon that board.
He had entered the game from somewhere beyond it, removed one of the enemy's strongest pieces, and now asked to be placed beside their king.
Creed could keep him close and delay defeat. Or he could release him and gamble Cadia's future upon the impossible.
When the enemy left a commander only impossible choices, the task was not to find safety. It was to choose the impossible course with the strongest evidence behind it.
Creed rubbed one hand across his face.
"Can you pilot an Imperial spacecraft?" Creed asked.
"No," the Slayer answered. "But I can figure it out."
Cain coughed into one fist. Highfell's grin returned.
"At last, a flaw," Cain remarked.
The Slayer looked at him.
Cain's smile vanished.
"A very minor one," Cain added.
Celestine almost smiled.
"A Thunderhawk can carry us into orbit. We will need pilots and a route through the fleet," Celestine said.
"The route is the greater problem. The fortress is protected by warships, attack craft, and defensive batteries. Even if the gunship survives the approach, its void shields may prevent entry," Korahael said.
"Can the fleet create an opening?" Creed asked.
Korahael studied the orbital display.
"For minutes, perhaps. It would require every vessel still answering our command," Korahael answered.
"And cost how many?" Raik asked.
"Fewer than the fortress will kill if it fires," Korahael replied.
Creed shifted his attention toward the amber rune at the edge of the display.
"There may be another option," Creed said.
The others followed his gaze.
Amalrich recognized the symbol first. The Black Templar stepped closer to the hololith.
"The Phalanx," Amalrich said.
"A damaged astropathic transmission places it somewhere within the Cadian sector. The report is unconfirmed," Creed explained.
"Then it may be days away or already destroyed," Daverna said.
"Or close enough to answer," Creed replied.
Korahael studied the uncertainty markers surrounding the rune.
"If the Phalanx is truly within the sector, our astropaths may be able to reach it with a concentrated transmission," Korahael said.
Klarn's mechadendrites moved above the hololithic controls.
"The primary command spire retains a functional long-range astropathic relay. Diverting power from the southern defence grid would increase transmission strength by forty-seven percent," Klarn calculated.
"Do it," Creed ordered.
"Diverting that power will weaken the southern batteries," Raik warned.
"For eleven minutes. Schedule the transmission between enemy bombardments," Creed said.
Raik considered the timing before nodding.
Creed enlarged the image of the Will of Eternity. Deep inside the fortress, several faint golden points appeared and disappeared beneath layers of interference.
They belonged to the Imperial Fists.
An Imperial boarding force had breached the Blackstone Fortress during the earlier orbital fighting. Most of its warriors had vanished from Imperial augurs soon afterward, but isolated transponder signals continued to surface from within the structure.
"When did we last hear from the Imperial Fists aboard the fortress?" Creed asked.
"Seventeen hours ago. The transmission contained no words, only an encrypted identification pulse. It lasted less than two seconds," Korahael answered.
"Then some of them are still alive," Amalrich said.
"And already behind the fortress's shields," Creed added.
The beginnings of a plan took shape across the hololith.
Creed moved the Phalanx marker toward the Blackstone Fortress. He brought the surviving Imperial fleet around from the opposite side, then highlighted the Imperial Fists' last known location within the enemy structure.
"The Phalanx will not merely escort the Thunderhawk. It will engage the Will of Eternity directly. Our remaining ships will attack from the opposite vector and force the enemy fleet to divide its fire," Creed said.
"Even the Phalanx will struggle to break a Blackstone Fortress while its void shields remain intact," Korahael cautioned.
"That is why we contact the warriors already inside. They will disable the nearest shield relays, silence the surrounding defensive batteries, and transmit a homing signal from a viable entry point," Creed replied.
Klarn projected a narrow flight path through the fortress's overlapping shields.
"If the internal boarding force disables even one relay cluster, a temporary discontinuity may form in the void envelope. Estimated duration: between twelve and thirty-seven seconds," Klarn said.
"Long enough for one gunship," Creed said.
The flight path terminated beside the Slayer.
"The Imperial Fists open the gate. The fleet keeps it open. The Slayer goes through," Creed continued.
"I can enter without them," the Slayer said.
"Perhaps. But I am not building this operation around what you need. I am building it around everything that increases the chance of success," Creed replied.
The Slayer stared at the changing display before giving one slow nod.
Marshal Amalrich stepped closer to the table.
"The Cruxis Crusade has a Thunderhawk capable of void operations. The Tabernacle of St Sawan survived the retreat to Kasr Kraf. I will provide it," Amalrich said.
"You dismissed his proposal as impossible," Highfell said.
"I said one warrior could not conquer the fortress. He claims he does not need to. I wish to see whether deeds follow his certainty," Amalrich replied.
"I could send Ironwolves with him," Highfell offered.
"No," the Slayer said.
Highfell raised one eyebrow.
"You refuse warriors of Fenris?" Highfell asked.
"They are needed here," the Slayer answered.
The Wolf Lord considered that before nodding once.
"A fair answer," Highfell said.
"This council is seriously entertaining the request of an unidentified transdimensional entity. Have all of you forgotten what waits beyond the veil?" Daverna asked.
"No one on Cadia has that luxury," Zabine replied.
Daverna turned to the Supreme Commissar.
"You support this?" Daverna asked.
"I support destroying the weapon hanging above our world. If the stranger can accomplish that, I care very little where he was born," Zabine said.
Raik adjusted the figures upon the display.
"Removing the Slayer from Kasr Kraf reduces our projected survival time during another ground assault by forty-one percent," Raik said.
"Destroying the fortress increases it from minutes to something worth calculating," Cain replied.
Raik looked toward the commissar.
"That is an imprecise assessment," Raik said.
"I have been accused of worse," Cain replied.
Creed stopped listening to the argument. He studied the Slayer.
"You have never seen the inside of that fortress," Creed said.
"No," the Slayer answered.
"You do not know its defenses," Creed continued.
"No," the Slayer replied.
"You may not find Abaddon aboard it," Creed warned.
"Then I will find where he went," the Slayer said.
"And you are certain you can destroy the fortress?" Creed asked.
The Slayer looked at the black shape hovering above Cadia.
"It will fall," the Slayer promised.
There was no pride in the words.
Creed had heard officers boast before impossible battles. He had heard frightened men promise victories because admitting doubt would have broken the soldiers listening to them. He knew the sound of courage, desperation, arrogance, and lies.
The Slayer's answer contained none of them.
He spoke as though the fortress's destruction had already become a fact and only the killing remained unfinished.
This was not blind faith. Creed had the evidence of his own eyes, the reports of his soldiers, and the testimony of a Living Saint willing to accompany the Slayer into the enemy's stronghold. War never offered certainty. It offered incomplete truths and demanded that commanders act before doubt became a decision of its own.
Creed reached his decision.
"Marshal Amalrich, prepare the Tabernacle of St Sawan for immediate launch," Creed ordered.
Daverna stepped toward the table.
"Lord Castellan, I object," Daverna said.
"Your objection is recorded," Creed replied.
"This being represents an unknown threat to the Imperium," Daverna insisted.
"The known threat is larger than a city and positioned above my planet," Creed said.
Daverna's eyes narrowed.
"Inquisitorial authority…" Daverna began.
"Does not give you a second Cadia to defend if this one dies," Creed interrupted.
The chamber went still.
Daverna held his gaze for several seconds before stepping back.
Creed turned toward the others.
The plan was no longer a single desperate charge. Creed began placing every asset he still possessed around the Slayer's advance.
One ship would carry the blade. The rest of Cadia would clear its path.
"Master Korahael, establish contact with the Phalanx. Once contact is confirmed, coordinate its attack with every surviving vessel still answering Cadian command. I want the enemy fleet looking toward capital ships when the Thunderhawk begins its approach," Creed ordered.
"It will be done," Korahael said.
"Have the Phalanx establish a Chapter-frequency link with the Imperial Fists aboard the fortress. Their orders are to sabotage the port-side shield relays, destroy as many defensive batteries as possible, and mark an entry point for the Slayer. Once he is inside, they are to join him and guide him toward the fortress's command systems," Creed continued.
"If any sons of Dorn still draw breath aboard that abomination, they will answer," Amalrich promised.
Creed turned toward the Mechanicus representative.
"Magos Klarn, disguise the Tabernacle's drive signature and transponder pattern. Make the fortress see a damaged traitor craft returning from battle," Creed ordered.
Klarn released a stream of machine-code while calculations filled the air around him.
"A false identification pattern can be constructed from captured Black Legion transmissions. Deception duration will depend upon proximity to enemy augurs," Klarn said.
"It only has to last until they are close enough to breach," Creed replied.
"I will also install a teleport homer calibrated to the Phalanx. If the internal shield network collapses, additional Imperial Fists may translate directly to the Slayer's position," Klarn offered.
"Do it," Creed said.
"Logistar-General Raik, provide the craft with whatever fuel, munitions, and equipment its crew requests," Creed continued.
"Resources will be allocated," Raik replied, already reaching for a dataslate.
"Load it with melta charges, demolition packs, beacon relays, and enough ammunition for a prolonged boarding action. Prepare a second gunship as an extraction craft and hold it beyond the primary engagement zone," Creed added.
"The reserve craft will reduce fuel available to the western interceptor wings," Raik cautioned.
"Then ground half the interceptors. A reserve that cannot save the strike force is not a reserve worth keeping," Creed said.
Creed faced the inquisitor next.
"Inquisitor Daverna, place your cipher and seal upon the transmission to the *Phalanx*. I want its commanders to know this request carries the authority of Cadian High Command, the Adeptus Astartes, and the Inquisition," Creed ordered.
Daverna's mouth tightened.
"You ask me to endorse a plan I consider reckless," Daverna said.
"I ask you to help it succeed," Creed replied.
The inquisitor looked toward the fortress, then toward the Slayer.
"You will have my cipher," Daverna conceded.
"Baroness Vardus and Wolf Lord Highfell, prepare a ground offensive to begin the moment the Phalanx enters engagement range. Make it large, loud, and convincing. I want Abaddon to believe we are attempting to retake the western approaches while our fleet redeploys," Creed ordered.
"Let him come," Highfell said.
"Cold Iron will be waiting," Vardus promised through the hololith.
"Marshal Amalrich, provide the Thunderhawk's pilots and transmit the Slayer's armour profile to the boarding force. The Imperial Fists must recognize him before he reaches them," Creed instructed.
"They will know whom to follow," Amalrich replied.
"Supreme Commissar Zabine, keep the operation contained. The defenders will be told only that an orbital action is being prepared," Creed said.
"Understood," Zabine said.
Creed looked toward Cain.
"Commissar Cain, reinforce the inner districts and oversee the civilian shelters," Creed continued.
For the briefest moment, Cain looked relieved to receive an assignment that did not involve boarding the Blackstone Fortress.
"Consider it done, Lord Castellan," Cain said.
Creed was not finished.
He ordered Raik to strip three damaged cargo craft of everything nonessential and convert them into unmanned decoys. Klarn would copy the Thunderhawk's false transponder signal across all three, forcing the fortress to identify four returning traitor craft instead of one. Korahael would send the decoys along separate approach vectors while the real gunship hid within their engine wash.
Kasr Kraf's surviving surface-to-orbit batteries would remain silent during the first stage of the attack. Once the Thunderhawk crossed the outer defence screen, the batteries would fire upon any interceptors that turned to pursue it. At the same moment, Cadian vox stations would flood channels already compromised by the enemy with false reports of a massed Imperial withdrawal. If Abaddon believed the defenders were attempting to escape, he might commit his reserves to trapping them rather than protecting the fortress.
Medicae teams and recovery crews would wait at three separate landing grounds. The reserve gunship would change position every seven minutes so the enemy could not trace its emissions. Every surviving astropath would listen for the Phalanx, and every operational augur would watch for the signal from the Imperial Fists inside the Will of Eternity.
Creed built contingencies around contingencies.
If the Phalanx failed to arrive, the surviving fleet would still launch its diversion. If the Imperial Fists could not disable the shield relay, Klarn's false identification codes might carry the Thunderhawk through. If the deception failed, the fleet would force a breach with concentrated fire. If the primary gunship could not return, the reserve craft and teleport homer offered two methods of extraction.
None of it made the operation safe.
It merely forced failure to overcome every resource Cadia still possessed before it could reach the Slayer.
Finally, Creed faced Celestine.
"You understand that if you leave, Kasr Kraf loses more than a warrior," Creed said.
"I understand," Celestine replied.
"And you still intend to go?" Creed asked.
"I do," Celestine answered.
Eleanor and Genevieve stepped forward together.
"Then we go with you," Eleanor said.
"Wherever you lead," Genevieve added.
"No," Celestine replied.
Both Geminae stared at her.
"Our place is beside you," Eleanor insisted.
"Today, your place is where I cannot be," Celestine told her. "If Abaddon sees through this plan, he will strike Cadia with everything he has. Creed will need every blade that remains."
Genevieve's expression tightened.
"You would have us remain while you enter that fortress without us?" Genevieve asked.
"I would have you guard the world behind me," Celestine answered. "Stay on Cadia. Defend Kasr Kraf. Protect its people, and hold the line until I return."
The sisters exchanged a glance. Neither liked the order, but both understood it.
"As you command, my lady," Eleanor said at last.
"Cadia will still be standing when you return," Genevieve promised.
"See that it is," Celestine said.
Creed looked at the Slayer one last time.
"I am giving you one of the few void-capable craft left on this world. I am committing what remains of Cadia's fleet to opening your path, and I am sending the Living Saint with you," Creed said. "I saw what you did to Urkanthos. Celestine has staked her life on what she believes you can do. Now I am staking Cadia on her judgment and on my own."
The Slayer met his gaze.
"This is everything we have left. Destroy that fortress," Creed ordered.
"I will," the Slayer said.
No salute followed. No oath was sworn.
The Slayer turned and walked toward the exit. Celestine followed, golden wings filling the doorway. Eleanor and Genevieve remained beside the hololithic table, watching until the last trace of her radiance disappeared into the passage.
The gathered commanders watched them leave.
"You have wagered a great deal upon him," Kell said quietly.
Creed looked up at the image of the Will of Eternity.
"That I have," Creed acknowledged.
Beyond the walls of Kasr Kraf, the armies of Chaos remained silent.
For four days, Creed had wondered what they were waiting for.
Now, for the first time, he wondered whether the silence belonged not to hunters preparing their next attack, but to prey that had finally sensed fear and something hunting them.