This is fan fiction and is unofficial and in no way associated with Games Workshop Limited

Chapter 7 Open your mind.

Corbel made his way through the caves with his fellow kin. Only the lamps of their armor illuminated the darkness in which they walked. When they had attempted to use night vision or thermal, they found the cave playing tricks on their minds. Body doubles, pits, and other sights would fill their visors only to be gone when they switched over to their actual sight.

While there was no fear in his kin, there was tension. So far, their foe had not struck out at the group, and that didn't mean that they couldn't feel the ill intent nonetheless.

“Sargent.” Corbel said quietly into his vox.

"Sir?" So far, vox had stayed reliable.

“I can feel a change in our path coming up. Warn our vanguard to stop and wait for us when they come across the new path.”

A click of acknowledgment came from the veteran as soon the order was relayed out. They didn't have to wait long before they found themselves looking into a massive open cavern. The cavern was alight with colors that danced and played off the variety of crystals that lined every aspect of the cave. Some were large, some were small, and all of them pointing in every direction.

"What do you make of this, sir?"

Corbel walked up to the edge and looked out at the crystals. Sights and glimpses of dark promises danced in each crystal. Their words were silent to the rest of the kin but not to him. One whisper was louder than the rest, and he listened.

“Sir?”

Corbel looked to his sergeant and sighed. "It is an invitation, I'm afraid." Tapping his staff on the ground creating a ripple through reality that waved and shifted the whole chamber. "One that I am afraid I must accept."

That got the sergeant to turn entirely to the runic priest and give him a cautious look. One that Corbel could feel even through the helm that he wore.

“Is that wise?”

Corbel let out a laugh. “Wise? No. We have been going in circles for who knows how long. It may all look different, but we are no closer to our goal than we were when we started. The force behind this is finally ready to present itself.”

“Should we not confront it and destroy it? Would that free us from this?”

“Possibly but free us into what? What time? What place? We do not know, and our goal is to reach Sharue. I will accept this invitation; I have faced worse in my time. If I were to fall to its influence, I expect you and your team to end me.”

"If it comes to that, then we are all lost."

"Perhaps, but then you can fight to your heart's content and sing an unsung song of this battle."

The sergeant snorted, “I would rather be able to return back and watch my brothers look upon me in disbelief than be a forgotten hero. It will be done; I wish you favor, and may the All-Father protect you."

Corbel gave a nod and put his sizeable armored gauntlet on his sergeant's shoulder. Then took a step out into the void that was the chamber. It slanted several dozen feet sharply, but Corbel found each footstep held up by an unseen force. Each step sending out a soft ripple across its face as if it was a pool reflecting everything in the chamber.

Back at the entrance, one of the wolves reached down, picking up a rock, and softly tossed it over the edge only to watch it tumble and bounce across the crystals. A quiet vox message came across to Corbel "I guess we are not invited."

Each step took Corbel into a quieter and darker place. To the Marines waiting, Corbel simply faded from sight. While he walked, he noted that while the environment got darker, he did not. It was not like he was glowing but as if a spotlight was set upon him. Though the host chose to stay behind the curtain of darkness.

Finally, the wolf stopped, lifted his staff, let it slide down through his paw, and strike the mirror he stood upon. It rippled violently before light shown and illuminated the room he stood in. Careful not to look upon anything beyond his own reflection on the floor.

“You are the one responsible for the storm?”

“Yeeessssss.” It hissed out. There was no depth to the voice, so it was hard for Corbel to gauge where the daemon was. “You cannot, will not, make it to the city of brass and iron without my help.”

“Perhaps, I could feel your pull from my ship. Speak your half-truths never born.”

There was a long pause before the voice sounded again. All-around as if talking directly in Corbel's mind. The psyker knew that it was buying time, looking for cracks in his mental armor and hoping to exploit him.

“You know of my kind, yet you do not. A lie has already been told though it sits on your lips unspoken.”

“The daemon that I banished on my ship said many things that I have not repeated. A messenger from you?”

A feeling of amusement filled the room. "No, it speaks like the changer of ways, but it is not. I am the voice of change, and it was a simple lie. The daemon that we both seek denies the changer, the luster, the warmonger, and even the horrid rot of stagnation. It denies them…"

Corbel was tempted to lift his gaze from his vision and look around but knew he would be lost to the maze of lies and deceit if he did. Was this a lie? He was unsure, but he could feel a difference between this daemon and the one that had attacked his ship.

“How can that be? All your wills are bound to the dark gods.”

"In chaos, all must be possible, every possibility must come to truth, and only then can it slip back into the lie. It is time that this truth did so."

“You speak of the Daemon after Sharue.” Corbel said more as a statement than a question. “You have seen a path where we will help you achieve defeating an aspect that is no longer attached to the primordial will?”

"Truth." That was all it said, but it could emulate the feeling allowing Corbel to feel the approval rather than hear it.

“Why not just lead us there without these theatrics?” Corbel had always been leery of the changer of ways. Its methods were that of madness, even to space marines. The All-Father himself was the only one to have ever truly looked into this truth it spoke of and returned sane.

"Knowledge is a weapon. Without it, you may succeed in one move only to have learned that you have lost the game."

Corbel let out a sigh of frustration. The changes were always troublesome to understand; the frustration caused Corbel to lift his staff and let it knock on the ground. Ripples flowed out from it, showing lines that weaved in and out. Some lead to dead ends, and others lead to the daemon and himself. While the ones leading to him stayed constant, the ones that led to the daemon were constantly changing. Never did they stay on one path. Through his sight, he was able to see the daemon at least. The hulking figure slinking in the shadows of the dimension, its form mutating and changing but did keep a somewhat consistent form.

“So, the options you leave us is to help you or wander the endless maze of madness?”

"Choice is an illusion; we all dance to fate, but if you want your fate to fall on a path you want, then yes."

Its last words gurgled and hissed in Corbel's mind. He did not trust the daemon, but he also was no fool. This was no battle that his brothers could simply battle through. No bolter would free them of this prison, and Corbel was sure that this daemon was the one that tugged the lines of fate to bring him here. It put a momentary worry in his mind that other aspects of what he had viewed may be manipulated. A slow smile came to his lips as a string suddenly snapped and withered away, forcing the daemon to hiss out angrily.

"You will not manipulate me in such ways, daemon," Corbel said quietly, having severed that connection after seeing the taint that ran along its length. "I will not ally with you." More lines snapped, forcing more angry hissing from the daemon. "I will, however, accept that our needs align for now. It was you after all that left the breadcrumbs for use to follow through the warp storm?"

An aspect that Corbel had been quiet on, the lines of fate had helped them weave through the storm as well as help draw them to DX538. Corbel had known that there was an entity behind the lines and had still decided to move forward.

“Yes." It hissed out. "I cast my net wide, but my hope was to find someone with the gift of sight. Some could say that the net was cast through time itself to bring you here."

While most of his kin would instantly deny the daemon, insisting that you never work with them, Corbel came from a time that had a different look on things. Runic priests had long known of the beings in the warp. They never called it the warp though, daemons were not daemons, and the powers of the warp were not sorcery.

The new breed of Imperium would not approve of his mindset, but that was why they had cast him out into the stars to do as he wished.

"And the pawns move." That was all Corbel said, and the daemon let a slow smile cross its face.


It had only taken a moment from the time that Corbel had disappeared to the time where he reappeared, stepping out of the void of color. The Sargent stiffened and every bolter raised in unison. Knowing that his team would not hesitate to open fire, Corbel lifted a hand up to indicate he was ok. The bolters stayed leveled but a little less twitchy than before.

"Sargent," Corbel said, walking across the invisible bridge back to the wolves waiting for him on the other side. “We have a path forward.”

The Sargent looked to him cautiously. Even though his helm, Corbel could feel the sergeant's caution. It was a dangerous game to play with the neverborn. Not only because of their lies and deceit but also because of the culture fostered within the Imperium itself. There was no illusion with the librarian that his Sargent would put their friendship before the Imperium. If they thought he was meddling in forces that were beyond his control, they would act on it.

As they should, the Imperium was almost destroyed because half of their brothers chose to side with chaos. It did rankle Corbel that he had to work with the neverborn, and it put him in a precarious situation of balancing how much he had to use them and keep the trust of his men.

"At what cost?" The Sargent asked, lowering his bolter. It was a good question and one that Corbel didn't honestly know, at least not yet.

"That is the question, isn't it?" The old wolf stepped off the bridge and back onto solid ground. Turning, he watched the void close and the room shine and reflect the lights coming off the armor he wore. "Do not touch any of the crystals, also do not look at any images they show you. It will be full of lies, and you will lose yourself to them."

A quick nod from the Sargent was all Corbel needed before watching him vox it out to the other Space Marines.

“I do not like how much we have to interact and deal with these daemons.”

His Sargent commented through a private vox channel. "Neither do I." Corbel rumbled out. "For now, it is what it is. There are times to keep firm and absolute, and other times that one must acknowledge their lack of control in a situation. We are on a daemon planet, fighting in an unseen war set by many sides."

An acknowledgment chime came over his vox, and then the team started to gather their things and prepare for the long journey. It was time to move through the chamber of lost fate. Each crystal was a fate cut short, a future that should have been but wasn't, and one that would trap the soul if followed.

“I don’t suppose our host was kind enough to give us a map to the fox?”

Corbel turned to look and gave a nod. “That it did, as well as the key to open its gate.” Finally, Corbel pulled out an item, a brass and iron key that looked older than Corbel himself. “You know that does not give me any comfort.”

"No, it shouldn't, but we have little choice as of right now. One step at a time, and if damnation tries to take us, then we give it hell."

The Sargent looked over Corbel before giving another nod and started to head down into the cavern first. Already sights and sounds were washing up from the crystals. Whispered promises, stuttering fears, a life that could have been. Keeping his eyes forward, Corbel joined them as they made their way into the chamber.


Banal gave a sigh looking over the reports. His eagerness to leave Histon 8 had been tempered by his duty to ensure that the commanders here had the tools they needed before he left. He would be leaving Luxis in charge of imperial operations on his behalf. The tiger had been wrapping up the fighting in the badlands with the feudal clans, and it had taken longer than expected to purge the sin from its people.

Risia was recovering in the medical ward. Her wounds were healing fast, but the mental attrition of it all was taking a toll. Benal had ordered her to rest and recover and had not bothered her since then.

A star chart was up and hovering over his desk. Beside it, a hovering list of names and duties he would be leaving to ensure that the war campaign was handled correctly as well as notice of reinforcements to handle the new threat that had been unleashed on the hive world.

"You know, scowl much harder, and your face will stay like that, Banal."

Who knew how long Solorin had been there? He had a habit of being able to sneak up on Banal that unnerved him sometimes.

Looking up, Banal relaxed his face. "Solorin, I take it that the western tower line is secure?" The giant wolf nodded, putting his helm off to the side. "That it is. Nothing a few good poundings couldn't fix. You have been pretty frustrated ever since we got back from the manufactorum.”

It was true. What happened there had been gnawing on him for a bit of time. Compound that with the delays to part and the information he received.

"True." He said, standing a little bit straighter. It was almost impossible to keep secrets from Solorin, and Banal also valued his friendship with the wolf too much to play games with him.

“I think now would be the best time to talk about what that daemon said then.” Solorin added, closing the door. A hint of surprise crept into Banal’s features though it was quickly suppressed. He shouldn't be surprised; after all, Solorin had been fighting daemons as long as he.

Nodding and offering a seat to the large wolf and Banal tried to relax. Solorin was an excellent confidant and someone he trusted, but this bordered on heretical. Did he want to bring Risia and Solorin into this?

“First, do you think what it said was true?” Was the space marine’s first question.

Thinking it over, Banal finally nodded. "Yes, I do think it was telling the truth. Sharue was never here on this world." He let that sit for a bit. It grated and tore at him because if she was never here, then what was this for?

“Then we were lied to.” Solorin said, finishing his thoughts. "Yes, the question is, by whom did the lie start with? Briskwall would not act on information that was not trusted or vetted." It was too soon to rule either way on his old friend, but the suspicion had been planted. Was it a lie from the daemon, or was it that someone Briskwall trusted lied to him? It wasn't that Banal was taking the daemon's word for it; he had spent much of his time digging about for information that could confirm it and had found enough to give him a reasonable belief that it was correct.

"You're about to pop that vein in your forehead, Banal," Solorin added with a lopsided grin trying to defuse the tension. “You’re trying to stay to level. Why don’t you tell me what you really think and feel?”

It was hard to tell if Solroin was jabbing at him or if he really meant it. "I," Banal started before finally slumping in his chair. "I do not know what to do, Solorin." He admitted. "Or rather, I know what I need to do but do not know how to go about doing it. It goes against everything I have stood for, and the uncertainty puts my mind in dangerous places."

Solorin nodded, showing that he was taking things seriously. "Well, if everything the daemon said is true, then it's understandable."

“I do not even want to think on the implications of everything else it had said.” Banal added with a bit of controlled anger. “We have to be careful that the daemon isn’t doing this to sow discord between our ranks too. For now, we have one thing confirmed, Sharue was never here." There was a bit more venom in his tone than he wanted, but it was the truth.

"I will be straight with you, Banal," Solorin said in a serious tone leaning forward. “That’s not what’s bothering you, at least not fully. What is it?”

It took a bit for the older Inquisitor to collect himself and then look away to the star chart. "You're rattled, and you need to find your footing again before we move to the next phase. You can fool the others, but I know you." Solorin pushed, trying to get Banal to talk.

"I do not like this feeling. Questioning my own organization, working with daemons." He said quietly. "It feels…" He paused, thinking about the right word.

“Like what a radical would do? Like Issa?”

A sneer came to Banals lips. "Radical." He almost spat out. "This is what they do, how they fight. It frustrates me to feel like this knowing that I am stumbling along the same path that Issa and her previous master did."

The response from Solorin was not one he was expecting.

“People change Banal. If anything, you should know that and this work either forces you to change or you die clinging to things that would see not only you dead but those around you and those who you're striving to save."

“At what cost?” Banal shot back. “Damnation?”

“That is why being an Inquisitor is the emperor's will. You're expected to sacrifice all for the Imperium even if it is your soul." Solorin countered. “Would you threaten the damnation of whole solar systems to keep your ideals pure?”

That brought Banal to his feet. “Solorin, you tread on dangerous ground. You know how many have said those very words to justify their fall into chaos?”

The large wolf slowly smiled and stood towering over Banal as he leaned in. “There is a bit more of a backbone from the Banal I know.” Banal glared at Solorin hating how the wolf was playing with him. “Solorin, I swear…." The wolf held up a paw. "Banal, I understand your worry. I do not wish to see you throw your ideals away, but the truth is before us. Someone lied to us, and if we can not trust our information, then we have to resort to other means. It is up to you how best to balance that out. Either you trust yourself, or you stick to your ideas, and whatever is going on keeps going on. What is it you want to do?”

That calmed Banal down a little bit. Pushing his chair away, Banal walked around his desk to sit and look at Solorin. He let time tick by, thinking it over and calming down. Banal hated it when he had to struggle with his emotions. Ever since Risia was almost lost, he had found it harder to keep centered and calm.

"Once we start down this path, there is no going back, I fear." Banal finally said. Solorin gave a nod and widened his smile. "I never fear that you will do the wrong thing, Banal. I will follow you, and you know Risia would too. We rely on you to be the anchor in this group, so best dig in and dedicate yourself to an action. We're with you either way."

"Very well, Solorin. Let’s start with the next part of the puzzle." Banal said, turning to the star chart. "If what it said is true, we need to find out where 505 is and why it's so important to Issa."


Sharue was in a haze, her mind fogged by the pleasure she felt. Whoever her host was had been keeping her like this for who knows how long. It wasn’t an unwelcomed feeling. After who knew how long of feeling pain and hunger, it was nice to feel good.

She was in her mind trying to focus, the land around here a blur as her head swam. A dark figure, that she guessed was her master, loomed in and out of existence but never for very long. Something was preventing him from communicating with her. Another welcomed break, though things felt off. The reason she was focusing, or trying to, was this feeling seemed familiar.

A small moment of clarity came to her, forcing her to think. It also allowed her master to focus in too. +It is a trap, do not give in to the feeling.+ Sharue had to agree, and the reason why this felt so familiar was that it was a tactic used by some of the hive gangs. The gangers would take females and drug them until they were addicted and then dangle the drug in front of them….

Sharue woke with a groan and laid out on the floor. She didn’t know where she was, but she remembered the last bit with her master and her thoughts. "Frack me…" She groaned and rolled over, almost emptying her stomach.

"Da withdraws can be a bit harsh." A voice said it was deep but quiet. Blinking, Sharue tried to focus her sight on whoever was talking, only to see a green man. Well, what could be a green man, at least? He was tall, but his face was in an odd shape with tusks coming from his mouth. Sha was still drugged up enough and dealing with withdraw to not have a knee-jerk reaction to the bizarre figure.

“Wh…who are you?" She coughed out, rubbing her head and clenching her eyes tightly shut.

"Meh name is Tok." The figure said, standing and walking over with a water skin. Sharue was hesitant until the dry sensation in her throat drove her to take the water and drink. It was clean… Pausing, she took a moment to just let it rest in her jaws before drinking greedily from it. Months had gone by from her drinking from that disgusting organ that she had pulled from the monster.

"Da mistresses touch leaves da throat dry." Tok said, letting her drink as much as she wanted.

“What is it you want in return?” Sharue finally asked, looking around the room they were in. It was a hewn cut room made of odd-colored stone. It shimmered and shone like glass in some areas, and in others, it was as black as the abyss. That was when she realized she was also fully nude, lease of her worries, though the collar and shackles were still on her. The sword was strangely absent too, giving her pause and worry.

“Iz needs nothing in return. Der is plenty of water." He indicated to a small pool that had grown up out of the ground in the corner. Nothing here was natural, and if anything, the daemon had taught her, colorful things meant danger.

Sharue was cautious, to say the least, before moving away from the figure and finding a spot to settle in at. Her master was quiet still; beyond his short warning, she couldn't hear or feel him.

“You are a psyker like me." The stranger said, forcing Sharue’s attention to Tok.

“You’re a psyker?” Sharue asked a little skeptically, but with how this world was, anything could be true.

“Yes, Da mistress has me here to teach and help youz," Tok grunted, walking over to the water to refill. "She says you're powerful. Says youz free us from dis." Waving about at the walls and ceiling, though, he seemed to be meaning more of the whole situation than any physical place. Everyone seemed to know she was a psyker! It was aggravating, to say the least.

"Another fracking puppet master." She groaned, putting her back to the wall. "Frack, I just want to be left alone."

Tok looked over to here while he filled and drank from the water. “Iz can leave yea be for a bit." He offered. "Do whatever." She muttered, reaching down to see if she could still use her powers. She was surprised to find that they were there, easy enough to touch and pull from.

“Youz broke.” Tok said while watching her.

“Yea, no gorx shit.” Sha said before she realized that this was the most she had talked to another being since she crashed on this world. Unless you counted the angry screaming at the albino talking. That whole fight was just a blur to her. What had happened?

Sharue gave a little jump and backed away from Tok; the figure had gotten closer while she was thinking. "Back off!" She growled out when she saw him reaching out with a closed fist. "Iz haz something important to yea." Tok's tone took on a softer feel to it. A wiggle of his wrist showed that he had it in his closed fist. "Take." He said.

Reaching out, Sharue took whatever it was. The moment she took it, though, images and memories flashed in her head. As quick as they came, they went making it hard for her to remember them. The feeling of them was still there though, those feelings ranged from anger to happiness to pride. When she opened up her paw to look at the object, she found herself looking at a piece of metal. It held what looked to be a planet and a winged eagle over it; there was some sort of anchor going through it along with a wound rope.

She did not know why but tears were welling up as she looked at the object. “Youz said it was important," Tok said.

“You’re right.” Sharue said quietly, "It is." Closing her paw around it, she then blinked. "Wait, I told you?" Looking up, she saw that Tok was gone. Turning about, Sharue could only wonder where he went. Slowly opening her paw up, she looked at it again. It did feel like a piece of her had found its way back to her. Though she could not say why but…it brought a rare smile to her face. Though with that smile came tears.

The feeling of frustration boiled up, making her look about for a spot to keep it. With no clothing on, keeping it on her would be a problem. That was when she saw her clothing, or the rags she called clothing, off to the side near the water. Once dressed, a voice reached out, startling her. "My mistress requests your attention." A being stood there with an oddly mutated right arm, her? His? Body shaped in both genders as he gave a shallow bow.

“Where is this place?”

The question came out in a blurt, making Sharue feel awkward. She felt apprehensive as most mutants had been out to harm her. There was also the feeling that she was in danger that just sort of radiated out from her chest.

"The city of brass." It said with a smile. "Now, please, this way."

Looking about one last time, Sharue wondered where the strange green figure went to. Pausing for just a moment before turning to follow.


Demagog made her way to a lone place of the City of Brass. It was dark but lit with a dark flame. Her serpent body moved silently along the worn stone. Rotted black iron dotted the walls before she came to what looked to be a large stone. The odd shape resembled a heart as suddenly a cloaked figure stepped from it. Its rotten rags were that of the daemon that haunted Sharue. Any view inside only showed inky blackness.

“Ishambull," Demagog said. “I have your toy.” The coy teasing phrase making the figure ripple.

Ishambull said nothing at first; its anger just radiating for a moment then. "We will see Demagog. She is a stubborn one, one that even I have a hard time guiding.”

“That is because you have no grace!” Demagog hissed out, moving closer but staying just out of her prisoner's reach. "If I can get her to free me, then she can be all yours."

“You know that the only way you will leave this place is if I return to the primordial abyss.”

"Which you stubbornly refuse to do," Demagog said with a bit of distaste. “It was fun at first, but the ages have made this game dull.” The serpent ran her finger along a rock ledge before scowling. "I came in hopes that you would just give in. I have your only ticket out of here, and no one can resist the sirens call."

The cocky tone was in stark contrast to Ishambull’s level tone. "All is going to plan, Demagog. She is where she needs to be and knows what she needs to know.”

"Or so you say," Demagog said with a mocking tone. "How does your kind say it? All lies contain a bit of truth; thus, the lie becomes the truth? Something like that." She said, waving her hand at the figure. "I will say your toy has the potential to do a great many things, though, and you have been busy. I will give you that."

Ishambull rippled about as if it was seeking a way to slip through its prison. The daemon, trapped by unseen forces, was prevented from slipping out into the mortal realm and exerting its full might in its own domain.

“She does." He conceded. "But it is still unclear as to what she will do. You have nothing but longing needs; you should experience the thrill of betraying your master and release me."

Demagog laughed, clasping her hands and letting out a long hissing. "Oh, I have thought of that. It would be a wonderous feeling, but my master has put in safeguards to ensure my loyalty sadly.” She said with a frustrated hiss.

“That is a shame.” Was Ishambull’s reply. “Why have you come?”

"Oh, just the usual, to gloat and poke and prod," Demagog said with a smirk. Coiling her body up before crossing her arms. “Though I do know you’re up to something. Just need to figure out what.”

Ishambull was quiet on that one, simply looking at the fellow daemon. The pair stayed quiet till finally, Demagog sighed. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

A soft chuckle came from Ishambull. "I am sure we will be meeting again soon. You can't keep me from her forever. Her hatred for me acts as a two-edged sword, and it may hinder me from getting what I want, but I have a feeling it will do so to you as well."

"We will see; after all, I tend to have a bit more….grace when dealing with the lost.” Demagog said before turning to leave. The daemon snake only then letting her frown cross her face. Her charge was getting harder to handle, and it seemed to have influence outside its prison which concerned her. Things that will have to be dealt with. For now, though, if she could get the vixen's help, she could free herself from this tedious chore.


Sharue was led into a large chamber of black and grey stone. The black stone was polished to a mirror while the grey stone was still hewn. Rows of black iron lined the walls in ornate detail. Brass dotted the room, as well as figures or brass plates holding the fires or lights that illuminated the room. It was a comfortable temperature for her which was a relief.

"Wait here." The mutant said, walking off. A bit of nervousness had her feeling about her powers. So much for not wanting to use her powers. It agitated her that she had grown accustomed to the idea that she could use them. Life had kept her so miserable that she had fallen into using it just to simplify or improve her life. "Frack, I feel like a junkie."

"You shouldn't." Came a voice from the darkness. The serpent seemed to just materialize from the walls. Slithering out of a void and into existence before her. It made Sharue jump and take a few steps back.

That was not the most pleasant thing for her as her hackles went up and a well of aggression built up till suddenly she felt calm. Just looking at the daemon seemed to steal a good bit of her aggression and lul her a bit.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Demagog, who offered a smile. "Please relax; you're a guest here." She moved in entirely and waved a hand. Windows seemed to form out of the stone walls, large stones lifting upbringing in the unnatural light of the daemon world.

“I think it is time to properly introduce ourselves and maybe set a few of your fears to rest. You had been out in the wastes so long that we wanted to give you time to rest and reorient yourself." Each word had a gentle pull on her making Sharue squint her eyes. It felt nice, but it was so alien that it put her on guard.

“What do you want?” She asked directly. Beyond her master, she had never really interacted with mutants and other daemons beyond killing them or escaping them.

"My, you are a tense one. I could give you something to rel….”

"No," Sharue said with some force behind her words. “I will not be drugged up like some hive breeder.”

Demagog paused at that. "Oh my, your master may have been telling more of a truth than a lie, I see." She muttered almost to herself but loud enough for Sharue to hear. “You are a distrustful one.”

“It's kept me alive.” Sharue countered, keeping her distance but looking out the window. What she saw made her stare out with disbelief. This world had shown her quite a bit, but now she looked upon the City of Brass and saw a hive spanning the plateau. A massive glowing tree lived in the city. Its roots reaching out into the many buildings and even up some of the buildings. It pulsed and throbbed as if it had a heartbeat. Another feature that made Sharue cringe was the sheer amount of hanging figures. Even though they were hanging from their necks, they were still quite alive. The figures twisted and turned in torment as the masses continued their everyday life in the city proper. She was starting to think that she simply died in the crash and was in hell. A delusional hell of her own making.

"Where is the one that attacked me?" She suddenly asked. The memory of that helped dig up some anger allowing her to push the odd sensations away.

“Lugran? Recovering and spending his time with the fold." The reptile-like being said, moving up to look out the windows with Sharue. “He will be up there for a bit of time, helping feed the tree of change.”

Sharue looked out of the corner of her eye to the daemon. “What do you mean?”

"I mean, he is hanging just like the others, experiencing the hopelessness of escape and the pain of existence. The tree feeds off these feelings and when a soul loses all will, gives in to the entropy of this existence, then they are absorbed into the tree and reborn as neverborn. Their will now that of the primordial will.”

That was a bit unnerving as Sharue looked out over the sea of buildings. “It also acts as the cage that keeps your master here. Your master has a thing for collecting the souls that are cast out from society, feeds on their emotions, and thrives on their collective suffering at the hands of mortal societies. It is a self-fulfilling pandora's box. He needs the souls to keep his existence intact. The tree feeds off them and keeps him trapped. Though that is the very simplistic overview of it."

“How do you even know of me? Of my master?”

“Your fate is like a glowing strand weaving in and out of a spider web dear. It is hard not to be a daemon and not see it. That is why you have garnered so much attention.”

Sharue turned to look more at the daemon. She still could not make eye contact with the being, but she felt confident enough to face her. “You still have not answered my question. What do you want?”

Demagog sighed a bit. "You have lived a rough life. It is a shame that we can't enjoy some more pleasantries but if you insist. I want to help you destroy your master. In return," She preempted, "I get to go free of this dull existence. It was once fun and thrilling, the waves of fear and agony and oppression, absolutely delicious, but it has dulled my pallet, and I wish to be free."

"To be free…" That had a lure that bit in deep. She was sure there was more to it than just that. Her master just wanted her to 'be free' as well, which her definition and his were vastly different. Looking back out at the city, she frowned, thinking about when she was in the cage. "Some of the survivors from the crash are out there, aren't they?"

“If you mean from the ship you were on? Then possibly, yes.”

Lowering her head, Sharue put her paws on the stone and let out a sigh. The stubs of her claws dug into the rock before she took another breath and looked out across the city. She decided to see just how gracious her host was. "No, I will not help you in this, whatever this is. I want to be left alone." Sharue braced to use her abilities to level this building if she had to but was somewhat surprised when the only words came were.

"Very well, Sharue; I know you have been through a lot. You need to learn to reconnect, and I need to show you that you can trust me." The daemon came closer, looking out into the city as well. "Just know that I can not keep your master at bay forever. He, IT, whatever you wish to refer by will not be stopped unless he is stopped or you give in. His agents are many throughout the city as well."

Sharue was torn between surprise of the daemon not telling her she had to, and the suspicion in the choice of wording in her response. "So what is it you're telling me?"

"You can go where you want. But be cautious as this is a perilous place. Your master lurks in dark places, and others wish to just play with you.”

That last term didn't sit too well as she was sure the daemon did not mean in a fun way. "Very well. I want to look around." Sharue said, getting a feeling of dread and just wanting out of this building. Her tail frizzing up a bit as she was left with a choice, and it felt much like how her master tossed her out and had her come begging for help.

“You can go where you want. Just mind the dangers.” Demagog said, making a motion to the door, and Sharue started towards it.


Demagog watched as the fox left and sighed. Lifting a hand up, figures stepped out of the shadows to bend a knee in front of her. "Follow her, make sure the ward does not do anything and if anything. Make sure she is guided back to me.”

A raspy "Yes, my mistress."

“Also, find out who all was brought here from the ship, living and dead. I may have use of that information.”

“It will be done.”

Waving a hand, she dismissed her menials and sighed. The master had been right. Her life had hardened her to blind trust, which was a shame. Things could have gone so much easier for her if she had just given in.

She had her freedom within reach, and the pain of having to wait was a welcome change of feeling from the dull day-to-day life that she had been trapped in. Shuddering, she let it flow down her spine to her tail tip.

"Also." She called out into the empty room. "Release the consumer. Just in case she does decide to use her powers."

A hissing echo of "It will be done, my mistress." That was all that greeted her.

"Let the dance begin. Once I get you dancing to my tune, little fox, I will be free of this place.”


End Chapter 7 Book 2 Open your mind.

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