This is a work of fiction and not associated with Games Workshop.

Jak'ir'in owned and credited to lupuslacaon, I thank him for helping create the world engine and the idea around it in this setting.

We continue with the ongoing space battle over DX538, Issa must deal with the world engine while Sharue must confront her own feelings and choices that she must make moving forward. Thank you all for being patient, I know I am slow at writing but to those who enjoy the story, thank you!

Chapter 8 Book 2 Prison without bars

Sharue left the tower expecting some sort of confirmation; after all, they had knocked her unconscious and drug her here against her will. "I don't think I will ever understand this place." She muttered, looking out over the City of Brass. It was a hellish sight; struggling bodies hung from just about every possible point of each building.

The streets were crowded too. This made Sharue quite anxious as she had been alone for so long. Just her master and her, traveling over the dunes of this hell world for months before getting here. Now, hundreds if not thousands of souls were pushing and going about their business before her. Truthfully, she wanted to turn and go back into the tower. Her heart was racing just looking at everyone; everyone was a threat, and how could she keep herself safe? Slipping back into the door frame, she took a moment to try to calm herself.

"Fracking shit." She muttered, looking out at the press of bodies. She would have to go out into that to get away from the daemon in the tower. Maybe it knew she would have trouble with this? That was when Sharue remembered back to her ganger days. She could have easily mingled and worked her way through the press of flesh with no issues.

That's how she had to look at this; it's no different than her ganger years. Stepping back out into the red glare, Sharue made her way down the steps and, with a hesitant pause, merged into the river of shuffling bodies. Quickly she realized she was on the short end of the spectrum. Sight promptly became that of mutant backs or a snarling daemon.

"Damn it!" She sputtered, frustrated at being jostled about and not even being able to see where she was going. Working her way to the edges, she tried to find someplace to see over the heads of the crowd. Thankfully no one was paying too much attention to her. It seemed that most wanted to carry on with whatever they were doing. In a way, it did have the feel of the under hive. Thousands of souls were dragging through the day, trying to make it to the next. Maybe this would be a place that she could adapt to? There was little chance that the Imperium would be coming for her, she was sure, and if they were, she somehow knew it would not be in her best interest.

That was when she felt her eye twitch and a familiar pressure form in her mind. This was the first time since her fight with the Albino that her master had tried to reach out to her. However, it was faint, as if it couldn't quite make it to her.

"There you are; I was wondering if you were still around." She muttered. Putting a paw to the side of her face, Sharue momentarily forgot the world around her. Finding a spot out of the way, she tried to work her way into her mind only to find it blank and only the echo of her own voice filled its chamber. It was odd not having the feeling of the daemon prodding through her thoughts every second of the cycle. Sharue found herself unsure if she enjoyed this newfound freedom or if she feared it.

One step at a time, she reminded herself. No sense in taking on every change she came across at once. That was when a thought came to her. What was her end goal? Blinking and letting her eyes focus, she looked about the crowd and city. What was it she wanted to do? Escape? To where? It wasn't like she could just get a job here, could she?

The fact that she could not answer that disturbed her. It felt like this was the first time she had stopped and thought about what she wanted to do long-term. Frustrated, Sharue looked about, trying to find a quiet place where she could go and think about things. If anything, she could busy herself with the thoughts of survival for now.


Demagog watched through a hazy sphere of light. Her minion had been following her as best as it could. "What are you going to do, my toy?" She asked curiously. Excitement sort of boiled up in her body, a feeling she had not had in a very long time. Anticipation gave her a sense of frustration at having something she wanted so close yet so far away.

"Your toy gets flustered so easily." She mused, watching the fox bound and flow through the crowd of denizens. Demagog still had to figure out how to get her to free her from this prison role. She sought out new experiences and longed for the thrill of how those experiences felt.

Seeing the fox move into a more secluded area and settle down made her groan. "No!" She hissed out, "Do something! Anything!" her clawed hands digging into the stone ledge she was leaning on.

“Mistress.”

The raspy sound of the Albino brought her attention back to her chamber. Lugran had not yet fully recovered from the kiss; blue and purple vanes ran through his body, his eyes were yellow, and blood still drooled from different orifices.

“Lugran, I see you survived the kiss.”

She shouldn't be surprised; the Albino had lived through much worse after all.

"I have mistress." He gasped out, letting a cough spatter phlegm and blood to the floor.

“Do not soil my floor Lugran.”

“Yes, my mistress.” He dropped to the floor to clean up his mess.

Demagog would have to deal with him eventually. Either she would have to allow him to grow as a daemon or absorb him back into the warp. Even if she were to provide him with another kiss, it would lack the impact that the first one had. Most go insane from the kiss, and very few survive. Those who do survive through it go mad with need. After tasting the thrill that it gave them, they quickly realize that they would never attain the same high as before. The craving to seek new experiences would drive most mortals mad in days.

She held no piety for the lower daemons and mortals. Their needs were so small compared to the eons that she must endure.

Though a thought did occur to her, “Lugran, you said that Sharue suffered from nightmares, correct?”

The Albino gave a choked "Yes, mistress, she would often scream out in her sleep. She called out a name many times. Emma."

Her snake-like features twisted in a frown. She had heard that name before. Turning to the ball of light, she started to roll back through the many memories of her minions she used for spying. She scrolled back till finally, she saw the crash site and the massacre within.

She flipped from one memory to another and looked at the battle from multiple angles. Where had she heard that name? At first, Demagog had ignored the crash; it hadn't been till she realized that her charge had been suspiciously quiet that she had genuinely looked into what was going on.

To help expedite things, she brought up multiple orbs to view them all at once. Then she heard it. "EMMA!"

It was just a short blimp, and the angle was odd. Rolling back the memory, she had a view from one of the mutants. It was leaning over some metal, looking down at a red fox. However, Demagog smiled, partially seeing Shrarue in the image.

“Well, well.” She hemmed.

Playing forward, she watched the sight unfold before the purple-haired fox brought a violent end to the mutant that had killed Emma.

Turning, she quickly asked, "Did her soul get brought to the City of Brass?!"

"I do not know, mistress. I would assume so. The charge is not idle in his harvest."

Drumming her fingers to the stone, Demagog thought for a moment. "Find her; if she was brought here, find her. That husk would have her hanging from somewhere. I doubt he would be careless enough to let something that important out of sight."

“And what shall I do when I find her mistress?”

"We use her to give our new toy a nudge. If she is that affected by the loss of this Emma, then we can use that to get what we want."

“It will be done.” Lugran stood and waved a hand about forming symbols in the air. The characters created a gateway from the mortal realm to the warp realm. A mirror of the City of Brass, but one filled with souls that have the unfortunate fate of being drug to one of the many gallows of the city.

Stepping through, the Albino vanished, leaving Demagog alone. The only reason daemons could do this was because the wall between the material realm and the warp was so thin here. If Ishambull were to get Sharue to give in to his will, she could rip the wall to sunder and drag the warp into reality.

“Is that wise?”

The voice forced Demagog to turn and look at a shadowed figure. One of the consumers had arrived. "The changer of ways plays his riddles with the grey-clad mortals in the flows of time, the charge is strangely quiet even after you stole his toy, and the toy herself left a crater in the red sands the size of Lugran’s need for you to recognize him.”

The shadowed figure was not cast in shadows but as if itself was the shadow. Staying to the dark parts of the room, the abyssal fiend waited.

“She is strong, but that true strength comes from Ishambull. Keep your ilk near her, and we should have no issue with her blowing up half of the city."

The shadow flickered and was suddenly across the room. “It will be done. Even if that is true, she has power.”

"True, but she lacks the ability to control it freely. How is it the mortals say? She is but a child to this world. However, she did get some training from someone. She was able to overcome my influence." She hissed out in annoyance. "And we have to worry about the sword of the oppressed. That is one of the few weapons that can hurt your kind, correct?"

An angry hiss came from the shadow. “Yes, the blood god despises the way of magic and subterfuge. That sword could create problems. Between that and if she somehow connects to her power, I will say you have a problem. Poking her with a memory that haunts her may be a poor choice.”

"Then we are lucky that the sword is the opposite of what she is and helps bring a little balance to the fight. I will use this Emma to get her to do what I want."

"And the grey-clad mortals? What shall we do with them?"

Demagog sighed. "There is very little we can do until the changer of ways frees them from the flows of time. I had set up a perfect trap for them to fall into, but they were whisked away."

This time she cracked the stone she was holding on to. “We will have to deal with them when the changer of ways makes his move.”

The shadow said nothing, its form flickering about before Demagog took several deep breaths. “I have not felt this alive in a very long time.”

“The excitement of playing with fire always bears the dangers of getting burned.” The shadow finally said.

Demagog's smile only grew at that. "That is what makes this so thrilling!" She roared out. "Do I pull this off, or does my will get shredded apart and returned to the warp?! Burn me and let me feel again! And if I don't get burnt, I get to escape this hell and find new ways to entertain myself. I would say this is a win-win for me.”


Issa looked over the command halo to see how the battle was progressing. They had lost several capital ships to the heretical world engine with limited or no success on their part. Thankfully the battle was not her responsibility. When Lord Brickwall stepped in, she had to step down and allow him to take command. Issa was not too terribly troubled over the loss of the command; it freed her up to work on her original project.

Drumming her fingers, Issa looked over the halo and sighed. The environment of the daemon world made it almost impossible to get live imagery from the surface. The last images she had were of the thunder and lightning storm that had blinked into existence and then was gone almost as fast. Corbel's group gone with it.

“Status of the wolves cruiser?” Issa asked without looking up from the halo.

"Still in geo sync with the drop spot. No communications to or from the ship that we have detected, ma'am."

Sighing, Issa had to remind herself to be patient. Either the wolves would die or eventually show their hand.

Van walked up next to her, dressed in an interrogator uniform. "Issues, Mistress?" He asked. He had been using that title a lot more since the 301st purge. She didn’t know if he was doing it in hopes of getting a reaction from her or something else.

"Just looking over the reports." Van's blank abilities made her eye twitch a little, but she had learned how to deal with the feeling.

Van would look over the reports as well before commenting, "It's been four days, but do you know how much time may have passed on the surface?"

“Not a damn clue,” She muttered before relaxing back and looking around. “for now, we have to focus on the operation Lord Brickwall gave us, though." A quick flick of her wrist sent the data off the screen and replaced it with a tactical chart. Several ships were highlighted, giving information on the crew, commander, and armament.

While she was free to follow her original project, her ship was one of the few armed with a Mars class Nova Cannon. The other highlighted ships were also equipped with similar patterns. Each moving to their pre-determined location.

They had used the weapons before on the world engine, but the overlapping void shielding and whatever heretical tech it sported prevented regular munitions from penetrating. Several of the ships that had detached from it had been destroyed. The issue was that the machine had some sort of production yard built into it. The longer they fought, the more ships came out. Any ships destroyed were simply scavenged back into it to be recycled.

Lord Brickwall utilized his position to have specific munitions delivered for the nova cannons though. Grav shells were extremely hard to come by. The fact that Lord Brickwall was able to obtain eight of them was a miracle. The shells would implode, creating small black holes, sucking anything and everything towards it. The hope was that even if it only destroyed the autonomous ships it deployed, it would suck the materials in, robbing the monstrosity of resources.

"Move us into position," Issa called out, turning to look at the main view screen. The windows were all shuttered due to combat protocol, but the swath of drones that she had deployed gave her a much better picture than she could ever see with just her eyes. They were thousands of kilometers away from the world engine, so all that one would be able to see would be a faint speck of light. The fleet had backed off after the wolves had maneuvered on the planet's dark side. Rumors were abound as to why the world engine had not paid any mind to the wolves cruiser. It was just a confirmation that the saint knew what it was talking about and that she had to trust in its plan.

"Aye ma'am," Several called out as the black predator ship came to life. Blue plumes of plasma spewed from its rear engines, and soon it was working its way to the mission location that Lord Brickwall had specified.

“Make sure that the gunnery crews have the right munitions loaded.”

Another series of acknowledgments came through as vox halos started to pop up on the screen. Commanders of the fleet began to show up, checking in and syncing their time with each other.

A halo showing all ship positions came up, along with weapon trajectories and information on impact zones. Friendly affected units and materials would highlight, showing that currently, the incapacitated light cruiser Void’s Tempest was in the area of effect along with the remains of other destroyed warships.

“Remember the munitions must detonate far enough away that it does not destroy the planet. We have capital assets on the ground, and they must not be damaged."

“Inquisitor Shadowbane.” A younger commander voxed in. “We have the calculations all inputted but would it not be more effective to have them directly impact the world engine? What could be so valuable on a daemon world that would warrant saving it from the Emperor's wrath?”

A murmur of agreement voxed from the other commanders. Typical, the older and wiser commanders use the younger to voice their distaste on their course of action. Not that they would fail to obey an inquisitional order, but if a commander was willing to take her wrath for asking questions, they would take it.

Sighing, Issa let her face become stern. "Yes, it is, and that is all you need to know, gentlemen. Either obey, or I will relieve you of your command. We are short on time, and my patience is already thin."

A collection of acknowledgments came from the commanders putting Issa more at ease. Typical spinless brass, with that out of the way, she shifted her attention back to the information. To be honest, with how the planet's environment was, it was doubtful that any sort of exterminautus weapons would function. The other reason for detonating the grav rounds at a distance from the planet was to ensure that the daemon world's influence did not affect the munitions functions and keep Sharue alive. Issa didn't have the time or patience to inform the others of the technical issues that the planet presented. It would be a blow to morale if they were to think that such powerful weapons had no effect on the planet.

It would take a bit more time for the large ships to position themselves; till then, all they could do was keep an eye on the enemy and pray to the Emperor that this would work.


Jak’irin was deep within his holy sanctuary. A divine collection of machines, artificial intelligence, and sorcery that formed a seamless integration of function. Much of it was condemned by the narrow-minded Imperium. He did not share their fear and welcomed it; it furthered his understanding and pursuit of knowledge. Multiple limbs operated several cogulators, each sending out commands to millions if not billions of machines. He was submerged into the nanosphere, attached by numerous cables. This allowed him complete and utter control over what the small-minded mortals in front of him have dubbed the 'world engine.'

"They are planning an attack." A shadowed figure said. Its form was wavering as Jak’irin turned his mechanical head.

"The chance of an attack is currently at eighty-seven percent; it is more probable than not. It is as you predicted, Ishambull. My sensors have detected exotic weapons throughout the fleet.

The shadowed figure shifted a little at its name. “You will take considerable damage, but I need you to keep to our plans.”

“Yes, our deal has been beneficial. With the biological unit you provided to me, I will be able to further my research. This Reed has the exact DNA that I needed."

Ishambull flickered for a bit. "It was an easy task to influence her hatred and help guide her to your path. I can not stay for long, I am allowing my warden to believe that I cannot reach Sharue for now, but I will have to make a showing to keep her believing that she has the upper hand.”

"Very well, I will continue as you have planned. A warning though, if I sustain more than forty-five percent loss, I will retreat." Jak’irin’s flat mechanical voice echoed.

"That is fine; all I require is that you keep the fleet at bay." And with that, Ishambull faded away, allowing Jak’irin to focus entirely on the situation at hand. A simple thought command sent a flurry of activity throughout the machine. Glorious cascading events were put in motion as the machine came to life. Smaller drones were brought to the launch bays, and everything was perfectly timed to allow thousands of them to be launched simultaneously. A screening fleet deployed as Jak’irin recalled some of the more significant assets back.

Focusing on the sensors, Jak’irin worked on figuring out what sort of munitions they planned to utilize. Trillions of calculations were processed as the machine calculated and predicted possible attack paths, variations, and effects. Each analysis changes and morphs the machine to help counter the upcoming threat. This battle was helpful in calibrating new additions as well as collecting statistical data.

A sudden warning flashed up on the nanosphere. "Gravimetric Armament detected.” That gave Jak’irin a momentary pause. Such holy relics were being brought to bear on him? Jak’irin allowed a flush of excitement to run through his biological senses. Such data could be collected from this! Though he was also already taking precautions. Sending his screening squadron father out to help intercept the weapons.

'Prediction, the fleet will launch multiple conventual munitions simultaneously to screen gravimetric armament.' Jak’irin complied with the prediction and implemented countermeasures. Estimates of losses and damage were already coming in as he turned the machine to face the most critical components of his craft away from the predicted paths of destruction. So far, all predictions fell within acceptable parameters.

He was already narrowing the range for the screening forces to focus on and ignore all conventional munitions. What he would do to get his hands on one of these. Sadly, the projected chance of success of obtaining a gravimetric device without it detonating was less than eight percent. This was outside the allowed risk parameters.

Bringing up the statistics of the most known nova cannon, jak’irin was able to estimate the time between the launch of the ordinary munitions and the launch of the grav weapons. If he could calculate the launch of each weapon, he could estimate where they wished the weapons to be detonated.

Most of the munitions would be caught up in the explosion of the grav weapons, and his void shields would repel the rest.

“Prediction, Imperial forces are utilizing this as a screen for a more advanced attack. Chances based on command crew and equipment, thirty percent.”

There was not enough data to cogulate what it may be. Jak’irin would have to just wait and see what the Imperials had planned.

‘Weapon deployment detected.’

Tens of thousands of macro munitions were fired at extreme ranges. Most of the weapons would probably not even come close, but, as he had predicted, it was just to be used as a screening. When the gravimetric weapons were deployed, he would have their point of detonation.

Thousands of kilometers created time, time in which Jak’irin waited till a bleep of unique code came in. Drones were being destroyed in a linear path. Bringing up the data, Jak’irin froze for but a millisecond before commanding all assets to put their shields to full.

"How unexpected," Jak’irin stated just before the grav weapon uncloaked and did a two-stage detonation. The first was a massive EMP burst that radiated out from its epicenter; the second was the weapon itself. A brilliant fusion ball flared to life, condensing the dark age of technology weapons to the point of singularity creation. The black hole grew exponentially, sucking in matter and creating gravitational shockwaves that tore ships and machines apart. The EMP washed over his craft with minimal effect, but his screening assets were heavily affected.

'Countermeasures diminished by forty-eight percent.'

Still within acceptable limits. Sensors were affected as well, but he did catch another warning.

'Gravimetric munitions launch detected.'

So that was their plan, the utilization of either dark age of technology cloaking or, even odder, the use of Xeno's cloaking technology to get one of the munitions in close. This would disrupt the countermeasures and allow more to slip through. The current damage to systems and infrastructure was growing to eleven percent. That was six percent higher than expected.

Jak’irin allowed his visual sight to view out into space; what he saw was breathtaking. The black hole held all things in its grasp, even light, and while Jak’irin could see his ships and other destroyed Imperial ships in the event horizon, he knew that they were already gone. They were destroyed by the impossible power of gravity. Jak’irin focused every sensor he could on it, every detail being recorded and logged. Even with multiple grav weapons streaking to him, he whispered out through his almost useless vocal cords.

“Beautiful.”


Issa watched as the mission played out. The first stealth gravitation shot did its job clearing the fodder away. She watched as the first of the second wave passed the defensive barrier, forcing the world engine to open up with its secondary weapons.

"Get me visual on that monster," Issa commanded, letting the halo pop up and show the large craft before her.

Bright lances of light and flack exploded forth, putting up a massive wall of energy and debris in hopes of stopping the destructive weapons from reaching it.

"Ma'am, we lost shot magenta, and alpha has taken damage and is veering off course.”

"Can we detonate alpha without interrupting the others?" There was a pause before a "No ma'am; we have another four seconds before safely detonating alpha ma'am." A heavy sigh came from Issa as she eyeballed the rouge gravimetric round.

“Detonate it after the safety margin have been met if you can not bring it to compliance." A collective Aye Ma'am came from her deck crew. The other two did slip through, and she could see that drones were pushing large parts of wreckage into their path.

Having been shot from the nova canon created a two-edged sword. It got them to the target faster, but the maneuverability of the weapons was limited due to the extreme speed. There was a very good chance they could be blocked before they reached their target. That was where Issa had her second surprise, though.

"Ma'am, there is a large object being pushed in the way that we will not be able to avoid."

"Aim for the thinnest part. We need to get through." The two remaining rounds had a lag time between them. Even after they got through the screening, there was a chance that either arcane technology or modified void shields could interfere with the effectiveness of the gravimetric weapons.

The first round hit a large portion of debris, but instead of detonating, there was a moment where nothing happened. Then a red glow formed, forcing the round through the rubble as the melta bore did its job, allowing the round to pass through. A similar action happened a moment later as both rounds struck the wreckage near the speed of light. The impacts forced the wreck to cant and turn before the rounds burst out of it, continuing on their way.

It had dramatically slowed the weapons, though. The rounds having lost most of their kinetic energy. Furthermore, it allowed the second round to catch up. Biting a finger, Issa watched as the two weapons continued on to the world engine.

“Come on….” She muttered to herself. The flack was getting thicker as the reports continued in. "Ma'am, the coagulator predicts only an eleven percent chance of impact at this rate."

She did not have much time to choose, though she remembered what the saint had said. "Keep them on course."

"Alpha detonating." Came over the vox as the first detonation fired off. Even at this extreme range, the weapon's effects played hell on the fleet. Ships were pulled out of position, and communications were fouled for a moment. What it did do, though, was to alter the course of the two weapons still heading to the world engine. The momentary interruption to the machines allowed them to slip through the flack. The first struck the void shields of the craft, a crackling sphere of blackness that consumed all. It pulled large parts of the wrecks into the engine's shields forcing even more impacts until there was a bright flash as the shielding burnt out.

The second weapon impacted the world engine shortly after and detonated. While it was a strike, Issa had been hoping that they would have melta bore charge to allow it to dig deep into the machine. Because they had to use the charge to get through the wreckage, she had lost the charge needed to penetrate the engine.

It was better than nothing, though, as the secondary explosion added to the first, pulling the world engine off its axis. Parts of the world engine pulled and ripped away from it, being pulled into the artificial black holes.

When the explosions extinguished, the sight they were left with an encouraging view. A massive hole in the world engine vented equipment and atmosphere to the void. If it had been any other craft, it would have been completely obliterated. This just proved how dangerous this craft was to the fleet.

“Cogulators estimate the damage at thirty-six-point nine percent Ma’am.”

“Status of its weapons and armament?”

"Unknown, too much debris and wreckage to know for sure."

“Zoom in on the wreckage.”

The view zoomed in more and more till finally, she was able to see the damage. Drones were swarming from the destroyed section pulling material and other wreckage back to the machine.

"I don't think our success will last long," Issa muttered, seeing the heretical machine starting to self-repaired.


Sharue sat in the darkened alleyway, watching the city's horrors shamble by. She had been sitting there quietly, trying to sort her feelings out. It felt like she was being followed and watched, though it could be just her nerves.

Just as she was about to get up, the sky split as if the heavens were being torn asunder. Quickly getting to her feet, she turned her gaze to the sky as the massive machine that had been present seemed to warp and twist. She was joined by many of the denizens of the city. The sudden change in gravity heaved the city into disarray due to the gravity affecting the time difference. The two tidal changes clashed, and time rippled through the city. Some buildings cracked; others collapsed in a cloud of dust. Panic rang out as the struggling forces ripped open the warp allowing those to gaze upon the mirror universe.

Most of the Brass City denizens were mutants, servants of the few daemons strong enough to stay in real space. The sights they saw through these tears drove many mad, turning them into rampaging killing machines that had to be put down by the many guards of the city. The screams from the tears were enough to drop Sharue to her knees as she grabbed her head.

She knew the feeling; she had felt it when they transitioned to the warp on the Endless Night, but she had Van and a guiller field to keep her grounded. This felt like something was trying to pull her mind apart. Stumbling out of the alleyway, Sharue attempted to find some cover from the chaos ravaging the city. Whatever was going on in the sky above was of such magnitude that you could almost say it was the end of the world.

Then the calm came, the pain ebbed, and time slowly restored to what it had been. Slaves and masters alike looked to the sky to see the damage done to the world engine. Debre was already falling, burning in the atmosphere, yet the large machine still presented itself in the sky. It was wounded but not destroyed.

Wiping the blood from her eyes and nose, Sharue watched as streaks of flame tore through the sky. That was when the realization came that some of it would hit the city. "By the emperor…..” Sharue coughed out, more in habit than honest belief.

Panic started to well in her; reaching out, she could feel her power. It was there, but it felt muted. As if someone had tossed a blanket over the fire. The first chunks of the ship were about to crash down, many of the smaller parts hitting the red sands around the city first before the larger one struck an invisible shield. A ripple cascaded through the sky, working its way over the city before being torn apart.

Some of the smaller parts rained down throughout the city. Mutants and slaves suddenly found holes in them or body parts missing as the shards of the ship still did considerable damage to the inhabitants. It was odd to feel relief flood her when a shard struck near her, bounding off the wall and would have possibly hit her if it wasn't for her kein shield rippling to life. The green glow sucked the kinetic energy out of the shard, stopping it in its tracks.

After a while, even those ceased, and the city slowly returned to normal. The denizens were so calm about it. As if this was something to be expected. Looking to the sky, Sharue could see the ship repairing already. The time differences seemed to almost time-lapse before her eyes.

Shocked, she gazed around, mutants dragging dead slaves down from their hanging posts, others being loaded up on carts as they started to rebuild without thought or restraint. That was not something Sharue wanted to become. The idea of hanging from one of these nooses appalled and scared her. Even more so was the thought of becoming a puppet to be used by some greater power. That was the largest fear keeping her from giving in to her master. Sharue felt more than she knew that if she were to give it, she would be like these mutants. Mindless as her soul was slowly burnt out only to be replaced by something, not her. She had to figure out how to get off this world.


Istambul looked up from his prison, one with no bars but one nonetheless. Its rags of skin and cloth fluttered as the blackness within them rippled. This was not its proper form, of course. No, it could take on quite a few forms, but this one suited it just fine.

"Right on time." The voice spoke out just before the gravity smashed into the city and his prison. The hewn stone shook, and cracks crept into the one solid rock. The shaking produced a large crack that Ishambull watched grow and sneak along the wall. The void of its face showed no expression, but a sense of satisfaction came when it cracked a stone with old runic symbols. The glow of the runes sputtered and faded. This was not the lock, as it would take much more than a simple crack to free it from this prison, but it did allow a gap to open in his prison. Before, he had been able to reach out through proxies, but they would burn out. Each only able to last for so long before becoming dust. Sharue, though, was the key. If it could force her to become its vessel, true freedom would be obtained.

The crack stopped after cracking the first runestone leaving several others still intact. The prison would hold, for now, it seemed. "The pathway is open." It muttered, a simple ripple across the void the only indication that the voice came from Ishambull. A hand reached out, and from the crack, thin ribbons of light flowed from it to him. No longer would it need a puppet to pull the strings of fate. No, now he could pull them itself.

Fingers clasped about the ribbons, and it could see the sprawling pathway in front of it. Its options were less than ideal, though. Several of the strands fading into oblivion, others being pulled by other beings with more control than it. There were options, though, and every weave could be done by a single thread.


Demagog laid out looking at the chaos going on throughout the city. The unexpected attack on the world engine had brought some entertainment to her at least. Slowly she rolled an orb about in front of her, its glow soft and the feel of a warm soul still radiated from it. The feeling of a soul that had not yet been broken by the torments of the warp and still held onto its own will.

Lugran had done his part and found this Emma. She had to admit that Lugran had become very skilled at navigating the eddies of the warp and real space. Though she was sure what seemed to be a short time for her was a long time for him.

"So, you're the key, hmmm?” She asked curiously. Letting the orb rest on her fingertips. A mortal form showed through, confused and scared look before it formed into a color that filled the orb. All mortals sort of blended together for her. Their emotions and looks just a pallet of feelings and emotions.

Smiling, Demagog placed the orb down and turned. Sharue stood in the doorway quietly, looking at her. "I see you survived the fallout," Demagog said in her silky voice, allowing it to wash out, hoping she might find a crack in the mortal's will. However, all it ended up doing was bristling the vixen up, angering her.

Ishambull and life had taught her to act so violently toward anything that held promises of pleasure and hope. Some part of her wondered if the daemon had planned it this way? “What brings you back, Sharue?”

There was a long pause before the vixen finally responded. "I don't know." She was looking around the room like she was expecting something.

An honest answer it seemed. "Have you given thought to my proposal? I may have something to sweeten the deal." Demagog said, lifting the orb and letting the fox look.

“What is that?” Sharue asked cautiously.

A smile grew across her face, simply extending her arm out. The orb's color fluttered and flowed about it, making Sharue back off.

“Come, take it and see for yourself. You should be able to tell when you do.”

Reluctantly Sharue walked up, looking at it. She could tell the fox had a pull to it. Maybe she could feel what it was, or maybe not. It amused her how much the fox looked like a wild animal walking up to a chunk of food being held out by a stranger. Cautious but at the same time curious.

Eventually, she reached out and touched the orb. Her paw spread over the globe. Then her other paw went up to take the orb fully. Pulling it away from her and looked into it. Demagog allowed It to slide from her hand and waited, watching Sharue’s face as confusion formed over her features.

Her grip started to tighten on the orb as she looked into it deeper and with more focus. Her tail stiffened before slowly looking up with hatred in her eyes. "Another trick…." She growled out.

Demagog put a hand up. "Oh no, no trick, that really is her, and I am willing to help you bring her back if you decide to help me and whatever else you wish. Just free me from this dull existence and name your price." Her serpentine body moved closer as the room's shadows seemed to shift and move around. Her bodyguards were never far, ready to pounce if their mistress were ever to be endangered.

She could see the struggle in the fox, oh how it was glorious, her jaded self telling her not to believe her, but the sheer possibility of bringing back the very one that tormented her dreams was delicious to watch.

Tears started to well up as the fox struggled with things, her grip shifting about, trying her best to keep her pessimistic views to the forefront.

"What is it you want, Sharue?”

Sharue looked up a bit from the orb. “I want to leave this place.” She finally admitted fighting to keep the words from conveying the quiver in her lips.

There was the crack she needed. The vixens will give just enough to where she laced her following words with the needed influence to help guide the fox.

"Then help me, help me be free, and I can help you be free. I will help you and your friend, and you can leave this world and take your friend with you."

"You better be able to keep your word." She growled out, her eyes a mix of anger and tears that were quickly matting her cheeks.

"Of course, I will keep my word. You help me, and I will help you and your friend be free of this hellish experience."

The fox's gaze went back to the orb as the color formed a figure again before turning a bit brighter in color.

"Fine, I will help you if you get Emma and me away from this place. I will help you."

Demagog took note of the tone the fox was using. It sounded almost defeated in a way. An odd take on having hope given to her. As if she expected it to be a lie but was too tired to fight it.

"Good," Demagog said, daring to come closer. Her body moved slowly about the fox-like a predator. "I will give you some time to relax. I have a few things I must do, but when I come back, we will talk more. Till then, use your powers to talk with your friend."

Sharue froze, keeping her eyes on the orb. "I, I can do that?" She said quietly.

“Yes, Sharue, you have abilities that can shape the very core of existence. It is why your master lusts after you so much. He both fears and desires it just as you fear and desire it. All you have to do is believe in yourself and break out of that prison you have put yourself in. A prison with no walls and no bars though one of the strongest prisons one can ever be put in. A prison of your own making.”


Sharue was about to ask another question, but when she looked up from the orb, she found Demagog gone. The daemon, having left it, seemed to deal with whatever she had been talking about. Sharue had come to her to seek out ways to leave this place. Undecided if she was going actually to help, she now found herself wanting what the daemon said to be true. Not only to leave this world but leave it with Emma.

After the disaster that had happened outside, she had found herself heading back to Demagog's palace. It was hard to say why but there had been a pulling, a lure that she had followed. Perhaps it was this, or maybe it was another ploy that the Daemons were using to manipulate her. All she knew was it had grown stronger the closer she had gotten to the palace, and when she had seen Demagog standing there with this orb, she had felt compelled to stay and find out what it was.

"Frack, please be true," Sharue said, choking back the tears as she let her head lean back till she was looking at the ceiling. Taking a big breath, her gaze turned back to the orb. Could she really talk with her? It would involve using her powers which still felt a bit stifled but not as bad as they had been out in the streets.

Lifting up the orb, Sharue looked deeply into it. Thoughts of how she could accidentally break it, worries of utilizing her power and bringing her master back fully. So many of her fears were telling her not to do it, but that crack that Demagog had found kept them from pulling the doors to her mind's fortress closed.

If anything, Sharue desperately wanted to tell Emma how she was sorry for bringing this upon her. How she wished they could have just stayed in the gang and how she should have listened to Eric.

Jaws clenched as she made up her mind. She decided to step out of that fortress and move out into the chaos of her own mind.


End Chapter 8 Book 2 Prison without bars.

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