Alivia fell to the altar as a body of dark smoke calved from her flesh. Its connection to the warp severed, the scraps of the daemon claimed the nearest living soul to bear its form.
But that rotten soul was singularly unable to host it.
Shargali-Shi’s body bloated as the daemon dug deeper and ever deeper into him, trawling his flesh for the strength to match its need.
All it found was a hollow shell, empty and useless.
He felt its terror as reality prepared to expel it.
Shargali-Shi could only wail his despair as he convulsed on his chains, jerking like a thing made entirely from broken bones. The daemon’s dying geometries were pulling him in a hundred directions at once.
His skin was drum-tight, stretched to the limits of its tolerance; his mouth became a distended void as cartilage tore and sinew snapped.
Then he broke, his body exploding as it released its captive, and his wasted fragments were incinerated by the empyreal fire his death had unleashed.
Alivia opened her eyes, staring up at a number of gently swinging chains hanging from the high domed ceiling. Motes of fading light clung to them, drifting slowly downwards like the embers of a dying fire.
She groaned in pain. Her chest hurt.
Her whole body hurt.
Vivyen’s head was buried in the hollow of her collarbone and Alivia felt hot tears wetting her skin. Vivyen was alive.
And that made all the pain in the world worthwhile.
‘Vivyen?’ asked Alivia.
‘Mama,’ was Vivyen’s only reply. ‘I knew you’d come. The book told me, but I knew anyway.’
‘The book?’
‘Madame Ghost Snake,’ said Vivyen.
‘Who?’
‘As good a name as any for someone who ought to be dead,’ said Severian.
Alivia forced herself up onto one elbow.
The Luna Wolf sat on the edge of the crates, wiping her blood from the gladius he’d thrown. Alivia winced as she relived the pain of it shearing through her breastbone to her heart. She looked over her shoulder. Other than the three of them, the chamber was empty.
‘That was a good throw,’ she said.
‘Why aren’t you dead?’ asked Severian. ‘That serpent bit you and I know I split your heart.’
‘I thought you said the world was more interesting with some secrets left in it,’ said Alivia.
Severian grinned and offered her a hand up. ‘True enough. Very well, Alivia Sureka, keep your secrets for now, but Malcador is going to want to hear them.’
Alivia took Severian’s hand, not wishing to sour the moment with how little she cared for the Sigillite’s wants. She levered herself into a sitting position. Her body had been traumatised on every level, physically, mentally and spiritually, abused beyond anything she’d imagined possible to survive.
Her hand slid over her chest, feeling the clean cut in the fabric where Severian’s gladius had penetrated. There was a scar there, of course there was, but it was meaningless next to the scars on her psyche. She would wake screaming for years, perhaps forever, but she kept that horror at bay for now. Vivyen needed her to be strong.
Nightmares could wait.
‘I told you that weapon had shed potent blood,’ she said.
‘So you did.’
Alivia swept her gaze around the chamber.
‘Are they all dead?’
‘They will be,’ promised Severian.
‘Then let’s go home, Vivyen,’ said Alivia.
About The Author
Graham McNeill has written more Horus Heresy novels than any other Black Library author! His canon of work includes Vengeful Spirit and his New York Times bestsellers A Thousand Sons and the novella The Reflection Crack’d, which featured in The Primarchs anthology. Graham’s Ultramarines series, featuring Captain Uriel Ventris, is now six novels long, and has close links to his Iron Warriors stories, the novel Storm of Iron being a perennial favourite with Black Library fans. He has also written a Mars trilogy, featuring the Adeptus Mechanicus. For Warhammer, he has written the Time of Legends trilogy The Legend of Sigmar, the second volume of which won the 2010 David Gemmell Legend Award, and the anthology Elves. Originally hailing from Scotland, Graham now lives and works in Nottingham.