Rae van Daleon – The Roots of the Storm

by Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 64: Fury of the Faithful

Something inside Rae snapped. The sight of Alric’s blood, the deaths of the storm troopers, the corrupting presence of the Warp—it all crystallized into a single, burning point of pure rage. Her hands trembled on her blade, but not from fear.

“Watch him,” she said to Celestine, her voice unnaturally calm. Then, before anyone could stop her, she melted into the shadows of the corrupted forest.

The Emperor’s Shadow

The first attacker died without seeing her. One moment he was taking aim at the medicae team, the next his throat opened in a silent spray of crimson. Rae was already gone, a whisper in the darkness.

“Where is she?” Marcus whispered, watching shadows move with impossible speed.

Two more attackers fell, their bodies discovered only when they hit the ground. Rae had become something else—not just a trained novice, but an instrument of Imperial vengeance. Her blade found gaps in armour, weak points in defence, each strike precise and lethal.

The Righteous Hunt

“The girl,” the psyker snarled, sensing the deaths of their followers. “Find her!”

But Rae was everywhere and nowhere. Her training, her grief, her rage—all of it focused into perfect, lethal purpose. She moved like a ghost through the corrupted forest, dealing death with cold efficiency.

An attacker screamed as she emerged from shadows that shouldn’t have hidden her, her blade opening his chest before she vanished again. Another fell as she dropped from above, her strike severing his spine.

“Emperor guide my blade,” she whispered, her voice carrying on the wind. “Emperor fuel my fury.”

Kael’s Challenge

Meanwhile, Kael pressed her attack on the psyker, her glowing box held before her like a ward. But the corrupted psyker was growing stronger, their form twisting as Warp energy reshaped them.

“Your faith is nothing,” they growled, their voice distorting as extra mouths opened across their mutating form. “The Warp consumes all!”

Tentacles of pure corruption whipped through the air, forcing Kael to dodge and weave. Her bolt pistol barked continuously, each shot blessed and potent, but the psyker’s mutations absorbed the impacts.

The Hunt Continues

Through it all, Rae kept moving, kept killing. Her blade sang with righteous purpose, each strike a prayer, each death an offering to the Emperor’s justice. The attackers began to panic, firing wildly into shadows that seemed to move with deliberate malice.

“She’s just a child!” one screamed before Rae’s blade found his heart.

“The Emperor’s fury knows no age,” she replied to his corpse, already moving to her next target.

The Psyker’s Gambit

The psyker howled in frustration as their forces dwindled, their form continuing to mutate hideously. Extra limbs burst from their torso, each ending in weapons of bone and corrupt flesh. Their face split open like a blooming flower of nightmares, revealing rows of teeth and pulsing Warp energy.

Kael stood her ground, the box in her hands pulsing with pure light that seemed to hurt the psyker’s twisted form. But she was tiring, her movements slowing as she fought against both physical and spiritual corruption.

“You cannot stop what comes,” the psyker roared through multiple mouths. “The Prescriptor’s will shall be done!”

The Final Moment

It happened in a heartbeat. Kael’s foot caught on a root that suddenly moved with unnatural life. She stumbled, the box’s light wavering for just a moment. The psyker struck, tentacles of pure corruption wrapping around her arms and legs.

“Now, servant of the corpse-emperor,” the psyker laughed through their nightmare of a face, “witness true power!”

Kael struggled against the corrupt bonds as the psyker raised a limb transformed into a blade of crystallized Warp energy. The forest seemed to hold its breath as the blade descended toward the Inquisitor’s exposed neck.

In the shadows, Rae watched, her blade dripping with the blood of the faithful’s enemies. The righteous fury in her heart burned hotter than ever as she saw Kael’s peril.

The war for the Scola had become a battle for souls, and the Emperor’s vengeance was not yet satisfied.