Rae van Daleon – The Roots of the Storm
by Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 65: Faith’s Blade
“For the Emperor!”
Rae’s voice cut through the corrupted air like a bolt of pure faith. Her blade, thrown with perfect precision, streaked through the Warp-tainted forest like a silver prayer. It struck true, piercing the psyker’s mutated shoulder with enough force to pin one of their twisted limbs back against a tree.
The crystallized Warp blade meant for Kael’s neck went wide, scoring a deep groove in her armour but missing flesh. The psyker’s howl of pain echoed with impossible harmonics, causing nearby trees to weep blood-like sap.
The Moment of Truth
“Impossible!” the psyker shrieked through their nightmare of mouths, their corrupted form writhing around the blessed steel embedded in their flesh. Where Rae’s blade touched their mutated body, small flames of pure white light began to spread.
Kael didn’t waste the opportunity. Even bound by corrupt tendrils, she managed to raise the glowing box. “The Emperor protects,” she intoned, her voice carrying the weight of absolute faith. “And through His servants, He strikes!”
The box’s light intensified, becoming almost unbearable to look at. The psyker’s corrupted bonds began to sizzle and smoke where the light touched them.
The psyker’s form convulsed, their corrupted flesh bubbling and splitting as they tore themselves free from Rae’s blade. Warp energy crackled around them like dark lightning, their multiple mouths screaming in harmonies that made reality shiver.
“You understand nothing!” they roared, their voice distorting into impossible tones. “The Prescriptor’s vision cannot be stopped by children and zealots!”
Desperate Power
The psyker’s desperation manifested in waves of pure corruption. The ground beneath them cracked and bled, trees twisted into screaming faces, and the air itself seemed to burn with unnatural fire. Their mutated form grew larger, absorbing the very corruption they spread.
“The Emperor’s light burns brighter than any corruption,” Rae called out, emerging from the shadows like an avenging spirit. Her eyes blazed with righteous fury, untouched by the horror before her.
The Final Stand
The psyker lashed out with tendrils of pure Warp energy, each strike capable of corrupting flesh and soul alike. But Rae moved like faith itself, dodging between the attacks as she retrieved her blade from the tree. The weapon glowed with a faint light, as if it had absorbed some of her righteous anger.
Kael, still partially bound, raised the box higher. Its light formed a barrier between the psyker’s corruption and the wounded Alric, the medicae team, and the surviving storm troopers.
“Your faith…” the psyker’s voice gurgled through mutated throats, “…means nothing to the Warp’s power!”
They gathered their remaining strength, drawing more corruption into their twisted form. The very air seemed to scream as reality tore around them.
“The Prescriptor will…” they began, but their words were cut short as Rae struck.
The psyker’s desperate attack came with devastating force. Reality itself seemed to bend as pure Warp energy struck Rae square in the chest, lifting her small frame off the ground and hurling her backwards. She slammed into a tree with a sickening crack, her blade clattering away into the corrupted underbrush.
“RAE!” Celestine’s scream cut through the chaos, but she couldn’t leave Alric’s side.
Dazed and winded, Rae tried to push herself up. Her vision swam, dark spots dancing before her eyes. The taste of copper filled her mouth. Through the haze, she saw the psyker’s twisted form looming over her, their mutated body blocking out what little light filtered through the canopy.
“Such brave faith,” the psyker’s multiple mouths sneered, corrupt ichor dripping from their twisted features. “But faith alone won’t save you, little one. The Prescriptor demands sacrifice, and you…” They reached down with a limb that was more talon than hand, “…you will make a fine offering.”
Rae could feel the Warp’s corrupting touch approaching her face, could smell the unnatural rot emanating from the psyker’s form. Her muscles screamed as she tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond fast enough.
In their moment of triumphant gloating, the psyker made their final, fatal mistake. Their attention fixed wholly on Rae, they forgot the cardinal rule of facing an Inquisitor: never turn your back on them.
The crack of Kael’s bolt pistol shattered the corrupt air. The blessed projectile streaked through the space between them, a prayer of vengeance made solid. It struck the psyker’s twisted head with devastating precision, detonating inside their skull in a spray of corrupt matter and Warp energy.
The psyker’s multiple mouths opened in a silent scream as their head exploded in a shower of tainted flesh and bone. Their mutated form staggered backwards, massive limbs flailing wildly as their brain matter painted the corrupted trees behind them.
The psyker’s headless body swayed for a moment, Warp energy crackling erratically around its mutated form. Then, like a puppet with cut strings, it collapsed. As it fell, the corruption it had spread began to recede. The bleeding trees returned to normal, the twisted ground smoothed, and the tainted air cleared.
“Rae!” Marcus’s voice boomed across the clearing as he rushed to her side, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. He helped her up gently, supporting her weight as she swayed on unsteady legs.
The Corruption Fades
The forest seemed to exhale as the Warp’s touch withdrew. Where moments ago horror had reigned, now only the aftermath of battle remained. Bodies of the fallen—both storm troopers and attackers—lay scattered among the trees, their forms mercifully returning to normal as the corruption ebbed.
“Status report,” Kael commanded, striding towards them. Her armour was scored and damaged, but her presence remained undiminished.
“Alric’s stabilised,” one of the medicae called out. “Ready for transport.”
Celestine hadn’t left Alric’s side, her knives still drawn, even as she kept pressure on his wounds. Soren covered their position from higher ground, his crossbow tracking any movement in the trees. Tyren worked frantically at his cogitator, scanning for any remaining threats.
The Price of Victory
“Eight storm troopers down,” a surviving soldier reported, his voice tight with grief. “Three wounded, including the novice.”
Rae stumbled slightly, catching herself on Marcus’s arm. Her chest ached where the Warp strike had hit her, and she could feel bruises forming from her impact with the tree. But her eyes were clear and focused as she looked at the psyker’s corpse.
“The Prescriptor,” she said, her voice hoarse. “They mentioned the Prescriptor again.”
Kael’s expression darkened as she approached the fallen psyker’s remains. “This isn’t over,” she said, her tone grim. “This was just one servant. There will be others.”
A Shadow Lifts
The sound of approaching engines cut through the clearing as more transports arrived. Medical evacuation teams descended rapidly, moving with practiced efficiency to tend to the wounded.
“Get them back to the Scola,” Kael ordered. “Full quarantine protocols. Nothing touches them until they’re cleared of Warp taint.”
As the medicae teams loaded Alric onto a stretcher, Rae watched her friend’s pale face. He was alive, but the cost had been high. Too high.
“You did well,” Kael said quietly, appearing beside her. “The Emperor’s fury guided your blade true.”
Rae nodded, too exhausted for words. Around them, the forest was returning to normal, though none who had witnessed the battle would ever see it the same way again.
The morning sun finally broke through the canopy, casting warm light on the aftermath of horror. They had survived, but as Rae looked at her gathered friends—at Alric’s unconscious form, at the bodies of fallen storm troopers, at the scars left by corruption—she knew this was just the beginning.
The Prescriptor’s shadow still loomed, and somewhere in the Scola’s depths, more threats waited. But for now, they had this moment of victory, bought with blood and faith.
The Emperor had protected them. And through His servants, He had struck true.
