The Vorthrax Sandstorm had scoured the surface of Vigilus for millennia, its eternal fury sustained by the gravitational anomalies of the "Vigilance Fortress"—a bastion built by humanity during the zenith of the Dark Age of Technology. It was whispered that the planet itself had been named in honor of this ancient sentinel.
The storm was a wall of death. The salt-heavy air would desiccate a human body in seconds, and the rotational winds were powerful enough to strip muscle from bone. Combined with lethal levels of radiation, the region was a forbidden zone where life simply could not exist.
Emrys and Hilda pressed forward, their specialized armor groaning under the atmospheric pressure. Even with the advanced sensors of the armor plate, visibility was non-existent, reduced to a swirling hell of abrasive ochre dust.
"This is madness. My sensors are blind," Emrys called out over the vox-comms.
"And you decided to barge into this void without a heading?" Hilda's voice crackled with disbelief. "Tell me you didn't lead us into a radioactive cyclone on a whim!"
"I am tracking the gravity wells," Emrys shot back, though the lack of visual confirmation was starting to grate on his nerves. "Why are you so anxious? We're nearly there."
"I overestimated you," Hilda muttered, her tone dripping with Aeldari disdain. "I apologize. I shouldn't have expected a Mon-keigh to understand the concept of a 'plan.' I am ashamed of the brief moment of respect I felt for you earlier."
Emrys ignored the jab, though he almost missed her sharp tongue when she was silent. He deployed a swarm of miniaturized recon-drones—specialized "Cyber-wasps" forged in the Mechanicus shrines—to scout the path ahead.
Minutes later, a signal pulsed through his HUD. High-energy signatures were radiating from a massive structure buried deep within the dunes.
As they approached, the silhouette of the fortress finally clawed its way through the dust. It was a colossal, jagged ruin, resembling a slumbering beast half-interred in a grave of sand. Despite the rust and the erosion of ten thousand years, it exuded an aura of terrifying majesty—a relic of an era when humanity conquered the stars with blood and fire, unchallenged by xenos or gods.
"There it is," Emrys said. "The Vigilance Fortress."
They reached the half-buried entrance, a yawning maw of plasteel and ceramite.
"Can you sense anything, Hilda?" Emrys asked. The Aeldari's ancestors had been at their peak when this fortress was built, though the two races had rarely seen eye-to-eye.
"Are you serious?" Hilda sneered. "My people have forgotten more secrets than your kind has ever discovered. What do you expect me to find in this heap of primitive iron?"
"A pity," Emrys sighed, watching his recon-drones vanish into the darkness of the interior. "Such a beautiful face, but your mouth is a tactical liability."
As the drones delved deeper, pict-feeds flickered onto Emrys' internal display. The interior was a labyrinthine laboratory. Debris was scattered across floors etched with forgotten geometry. Time had been cruel; the data-stacks were rusted husks, their secrets eroded into dust.
Then, the drones entered a vaulted chamber dominated by an astronomical array surrounded by thick, shielded power conduits. At the center sat a device that looked like a spiked, metallic iris.
"The Void Claw," Emrys whispered. The gravitational weapon Abaddon sought to tear Vigilus asunder.
"The drones show no movement," Hilda noted, her hand hovering near her power blade. "Is it truly unguarded?"
"No enemies?" Emrys smiled thinly. "Not necessarily. It's more likely they're waiting for us to commit."
Hilda's posture shifted instantly, her psychic senses flaring. "If you suspect a trap, why are we walking into it?"
"Because," Emrys said, his eyes hardening with confidence, "I didn't come just for the weapon. I came for the guardians."
They stepped into the shadows of the fortress, following the trail blazed by the drones. The air inside was stale, smelling of ozone and ancient decay.
Suddenly, Hilda spun. Her blade hummed with psychic energy as she unleashed a searing arc of blue flame into the darkness.
BOOM!
The flash illuminated a massive, hulking figure clad in midnight-black ceramite. It vanished into the gloom before the light faded.
"We are surrounded," Hilda hissed, her blade held in a low guard.
From the shadows, subtle sounds of clicking armor and heavy breathing emerged. Dozens of silhouettes flickered at the edge of their vision. The killing intent was palpable, a physical weight that made the skin crawl.
"Emrys, please tell me you have a plan for this," Hilda whispered, her courage tested by the sheer coldness of the presence in the room.
"Stay calm," Emrys said. He raised his gauntlets, palms open in a gesture of peace. "Gentlemen, we mean no harm. It is an honor to finally meet you... warriors of the First Legion."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. The shadows stirred with renewed hostility.
"The First Legion?" Hilda gasped. "The Dark Angels? If they are loyalists, why are they hiding in this pit?"
"A good guess, but wrong," Emrys said, his voice echoing in the chamber. "That was their old name. Perhaps I should use the one the galaxy fears more. Is that right... Fallen Angels?"
Hilda's heart hammered against her ribs. The Fallen. Even the Aeldari knew the legend of the Dark Angels' shame—the rebels who had betrayed their Primarch and vanished into time. To hunt a Fallen Angel was to invite the wrath of the most secretive Chapter in the Imperium.
"Who are you?"
A voice, muffled and rasping like grinding stones, emerged from the darkness. A massive figure stepped into the dim light of the consoles. He wore a tattered green hood over black, unadorned power armor.
"How do you know our shame, mortal?"