Chapter 6-Cat and MouseThey parted ways outside of Afterlife, Titus and Cyralius heading back towards the Normandy, while Miranda and Samara took a different route, through the crowds and into the rest of the city. Malleus’ power armoured bulk cleared a path through the bustling mass of people without there being any need to push, humans and xenos alike simply stepping around him.
“This is a cruel place,” Samara murmured as they went through the streets. “Many people come here hoping to build themselves better lives, only to find poverty and crime. I might return here if we defeat the Reapers; these people need a guardian.”
“
If we defeat the Reapers?” Malleus asked, tone gently reprimanding. “You’ve such little faith in me?”
Samara smiled.
“Your optimism does you credit, Malleus,” she said.
“Not optimism,” Malleus replied. “Certainty.”
Samara nodded, before saying; “This is the place.”
The building was a small one, part of a cluster of hab units that seemed to make up this block of Omega. It was quieter here, but more run down than the area that housed Afterlife; probably close enough within Aria’s sphere of power to have the odd mercenary patrol.
Malleus knocked on the heavy bulkhead that served as a front door to the place, and a woman’s voice crackled from the vox-speaker built in to the wall next them.
“Hello?”
“Is the home of a young woman named Nef?” Malleus asked.
“It was,” the voice said. “Who is it?”
“My name is Malleus, and I have a companion with me named Samara,” Malleus replied. “Can we come in, please?”
“Why?”
“We wish to talk about Nef,” Samara said.
“She’s dead. Leave me alone, please.”
“We are trying to find her killer,” Malleus said. “We wish to bring her to justice.”
“You…you do? Alright, come in.”
The door slid aside, and a middle aged woman stood in the doorway. She looked tired, and a little frightened, and she put a hand to her mouth when she saw Malleus, nearly seven feet in his power armour.
“May we come in?”
“Of course, yes. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”
She stepped away, and Malleus ducked under the door frame into the woman’s home. It was a simple place, a kitchen and living space in one room, a few more doors set into the walls, no doubt leading to other parts of her home. It was a clean home, nonetheless, and Malleus could appreciate the humble simplicity of the place.
“You’re really an Astarte?” the woman asked as Malleus stepped in. “I saw you on the news. You’re their leader, aren’t you?”
“It’s ‘Astartes,’ but yes, I am,” Malleus said. “I am pleased to meet you…”
“Diana,” the woman said. “I’m Nef’s mother.”
“I see,” Malleus said, nodding his head respectfully. “I am sorry about what happened to your daughter.”
“Thank you,” Diana said quietly. “That means a lot to me, even if it’s just from a stranger.”
“Do we mind if we talk to you about your daughter?” Samara asked.
“If it helps you find her killer, then please, do,” Diana said. “Nobody else is doing anything about it, though I shouldn’t expect any better from Omega. Do you want to sit down? I’m afraid my chairs probably can’t hold your weight, sir, but they should be fine for you, Samara.”
“I’ll be happy to stand,” Malleus said, as Diana and Samara sat around the small kitchen table in the room. “And please, just call me Malleus.”
‘Sir.’ That was interesting, though not unusual; plenty of guardsmen that he had fought with over the years had called him by the Gothic equivalent of that title, or sometimes just ‘my lord.’ He supposed it was his stature; Astartes were intimidating, even at the best of times, and subservience seemed, to many people, the natural attitude to adopt.
“Diana,” Samara said. “Do you mind telling us exactly what happened to Nef before she died?”
Diana nodded.
“She went, about a week ago, to that club a few blocks away, Afterlife,” she said. “And when she came back, she said she’d met this Asari called Morinth. She suddenly became obsessed with her; she kept going back to Afterlife, and the rest of the time she was tired and distracted. All she would talk about was Morinth, and that was the only time she ever seemed to wake up. And then suddenly, she…she died. The doctors said it was some sort of brain aneurism, but I don’t think it was. That Asari, that Morinth, killed her. I don’t know how, but she did.”
She shook her head.
“She was a good girl,” she said, her eyes glistening. “She didn’t take drugs, she didn’t hang out with anybody dangerous, she just kept to herself and worked on her sculptures. She didn’t…she didn’t deserve…”
Malleus gently placed his hand on her shoulder, the servos in the ceramite gauntlet that encased it whining gently as they made sure his grip wasn’t enough to crush her collarbone.
“I know what it is to lose a child,” he said, words which he felt were half true. He still felt unsure about Gaius; could he truly call him a son? He didn’t honestly know. “I know the pain you are in. And while it is little consolation, I promise you that I will find the woman who killed your daughter and I will bring her to justice.”
“You will?”
“You have my word.”
“Thank you,” Diana said. “I know nobody else will, and it’s good to see someone who cares.”
“Diana,” Samara said. “Do you mind if we look in Nef’s room for clues as to what exactly happened, and where we can find her killer?”
Diana nodded.
“I left it as it was before she died,” she said. “I don’t want to lose anything.”
“And we shall treat it was the greatest of care,” Samara said. “Nothing will be disturbed.”
“It’s through there,” Diana said, pointing to one of the doors in the kitchen. “Please be careful.”
“We shall,” Malleus said.
He stepped through the wooden door, into a modest, Spartan bedroom, one that smelt faintly of dust. There was a meticulously made bed tucked into one corner, while a desk or workbench stood against the far wall. There were several shelves along some of the walls, occupied by sculptures, small, simple, elegant things carved from onyx, marble, granite or moulded from clay. On the desk, next to a hammer and set of chisels, a half completed one sat, an elegant wing emerging from the white stone.
“Young Nef had quite a talent, it seems,” Malleus remarked as Samara entered the room behind him.
“That isn’t surprising,” Samara said. “Morinth has always been attracted to artists and creative souls.”
“Why is that?” Malleus asked.
“I’m not sure,” Samara answered. “Perhaps she feels she gains more power by destroying imaginative minds.”
“Perhaps,” Malleus said. He paused as he noticed a holo-slate on Nef’s desk. He flicked it on, and looked at the message it contained.
Nef it read.
You won’t believe what I’ve found. You know that Elcor sculptor you and I love so much, Forta? He’s released pictures of some of the things he’s going to put in his exhibition on the Citadel, and they’re amazing! I’ve attached them to this message so you can see them for yourself; maybe they’ll inspire you to make some more of your great sculptures as well? 
Probably a message from Morinth, Malleus decided. Interesting, but not much use.
The only other thing of note in the room was a small portable cogitator. He pressed the on button, and the devices’ holographic screen flicked on, the text reading; ‘Nef’s Diary. Password: ’
Malleus was thwarted. If he had Kullas with him, the Forge Priest could probably break through such simple security in a heartbeat, and while the Brother-Captain could placate the machine spirits of his armour or weapons, knew the name for every part of his bolter and could even perform basic repairs on any of the vehicles that the Sons had in their arsenal, software left him at a loss. He thought of what Nef could use as a password, before trying ‘Sculpture.’ The only thing that came up was a message of a rejection, so he tried ‘Chisel’ instead. Once more, nothing happened, before he went out on a limb and tried ‘Morinth.’ The screen flashed green for a moment, a message winking up to inform him that his attempt had been accepted, and Malleus couldn’t help but reflect that there was something somewhat sad about that.
He looked at the list of entries that was presented to him, before trying one of the later ones, the second down from the top of the list. The text disappeared to show the face of a young woman; she looked like Diana, if younger, her hair the same colour, facial shape very similar.
“Dear diary,” she said, a smile of excitement on her face. “You won’t believe what happened tonight. I got into Afterlife’s VIP area by dropping Jaruut’s name to the bouncer there. I was a little nervous when I went in at first, but then I saw this Asari dancing on the place’s dancefloor. She was just amazing to watch, and then she just came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance with her. I just said yes, before I could think, and then we were dancing together. And I don’t know why I was nervous! It was great! She said her name was Morinth, and we started talking. She found out I was a sculptor, and she got really interested, said she loved art, and we really hit it off. We’re meeting up again in the same place, tomorrow night, and I can’t wait!”
The log ended, and Malleus selected the final entry.
“Dear diary,” Nef said to the camera once again. “I met up with Morinth again last night in Afterlife. I tried these pills, this stuff called Hallex, and we started to dance together again, and it was even more amazing than last night. All the music, and the Hallex, and the fact Morinth was there, they all kind of blended into one, and I could almost feel the music as I danced with her. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done! We’re meeting up again tonight, and I think she’s going to take me to her apartment. I think I’m in love with her, you know. We’re going to get off Omega, and we’re going to go to one of the fancier places in the galaxy; Ilium, or Earth, or the Citadel, and we’ll make a living selling my sculptures. It’ll be perfect, I just know it. Anyway, goodbye diary, I’ve got to go and start making myself look good for tonight!”
The entry finished, and Malleus frowned. In love with a xenos; the idea seemed sordid to him, unthinkable, but he supposed it was a different galaxy. Different standards. It didn’t make the idea any less repellent to him, though.
“That sounds like one of Morinth’s victims,” Samara said once the video had stopped playing. “She does that to people; makes them completely and utterly infatuated with her.”
“That poor girl sounded pretty obsessed, Emperor watch over her soul,” Malleus said, bowing his head and making the sign of the Aquila. “Still, we know where Morinth hunts now. What’s the plan?”
“We lure her out and kill her,” Samara said.
“I’d guessed as much,” Malleus said. “But lure her out? Sounds like we’d need bait.”
Samara nodded.
“And that would be me, wouldn’t it?” Malleus asked, tone suggesting he didn’t relish the prospect.
“I’m afraid you’re our only chance of getting close,” Samara said.
“So what do you suggest, that I lure her in and do what, seduce her?” Malleus asked. “Samara, with all due respect, we Astartes are celibate. I’ve never tried to charm a woman before in my life. Besides, I’m a warrior; she’s attracted to artists, you said so yourself. And on top of that, I’m famous, so she’d be too cautious to approach, wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know about that,” Samara said. “To her, you’re something new, something she hasn’t tried before, and she’ll be sorely tempted by someone famous. And a warrior you may be, but you’re an artist as well, you know”
“The closest things I’ve ever made to art are formation diagrams and battle maps,” Malleus said. “Frankly, I doubt I can even manage to draw a decent stick figure.”
“You’re not an artist in a traditional sense, but you’re an artist of the battlefield,” Samara said. “As you said to me, you are war; you kill with more grace and skill than anything I’ve ever seen before, and she’ll be able to see that ability within you. But you should be careful, Malleus; she is a dangerous creature. She is able to promise you many things; her eyes speak of intelligence and wit greater than that of any other person you’ll encounter, her voice speaks words you wish to hear again and again, her scent is a perfume that will make you desire her more than anything else, and her body promises you great pleasure, providing you prove worthy. She controls people, Malleus, hypnotises them, makes herself a goddess in their eyes.”
“She sounds less like a person and more like some sort of sorceress,” Malleus remarked, unable to not think of the heretical servants of Slaanesh.
“There’s an old legend that says the first Ardat Yakshi were created by Asari who used magic to summon demons and then bonded with them, you know,” Samara said. “Not true, I don’t think, but an interesting comparison you make.”
Malleus nodded
“Anyway,” he said. “Let’s go find our Ardat Yakshi.”
#
Malleus felt vulnerable without his power armour. The thought was ridiculous, he knew, as he moved through the crowd of Afterlife, but somehow without the ceramite shell that had been as constant a companion to him as his battle brothers he felt less secure. He didn’t doubt that he was the most dangerous thing in the room, of course, but he felt disquieted nonetheless. The only part of his armour that remained was his bionic, which could punch through steel; that was reassuring enough, in itself.
He reached the door which had a hologram above it saying ‘VIPs only,’ and the Turian bouncer standing guard there said; “What do you want?”
“I’ve been having a pretty good time here this evening,” Malleus said casually. “But I heard from Jaruut that the best party’s in here.”
The Turian nodded, before saying; “You heard right. Head on through, and enjoy your night.”
The xenos pressed a button in the wall next to him, and the door slid open, and it nodded Malleus through.
The room Malleus entered was a great deal smaller than the last, and even with his enhanced hearing the noise from the rest of Afterlife was shut off. The music here was different, the dancefloor less crowded, while tables were set into the alcoves around the wall. The brother-captain entered the room, feeling a little unsure of what to do, before somebody said; “Hey, big guy. Over here.”
He glanced over to see a scrawny young man gesturing to him, and he approached and asked; “Yes?”
“Hey, mister, can I ask you a favour?” hesked “You got any tickets to Expel Ten?”
“To what?”
“Expel Ten. You haven’t heard of them?”
Malleus shook his head.
“They’re this sensory band, really, really good stuff, gets in your head and messes it around,” the young man said. “Anyway, there was this real hot Asari chick in here talking about how much she liked them, and they’re playing on Omega in a few days. If I could get some tickets, I could score way out my league, y’know what I mean?”
Malleus had no idea what he meant, but judging by the look of infatuation in the man’s eyes, he could have been put under whatever spell Morinth used was reputed to use on people; it was the same sort of look Nef had worn when talking about Morinth in her diary. Expel Ten, he thought to himself. A sensory band. He’d do well to remember that.
“No tickets, I’m afraid,” he said, shrugging.
“Damn! Well, thanks anyway, mister. Just have to try to get ‘em somewhere else. Keep it cool.”
He held out a fist, and for a moment, Malleus hesitated, unsure what to do, before he remembered that it was some sort of salute among young people of this galaxy and gently knocked his fist against that of his newfound ally.
He wandered away, and realised that he had never felt so incredibly out of place in all his life. Here he was, a hero of the Imperium, lauded with more medals and accolades than he cared to count, and he felt completely and utterly lost. He had dictated the flow entire battlefields, locking wits with some of the most abhorrent and cunning of humanity’s enemies, but he knew nothing of what he should do next. What was one supposed to do here? Dance, obviously, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be any good at that, and he seemed pretty sure that making a fool of himself in public would probably make him a far less tempting catch to Morinth, if she could see him.
He contented himself with ordering a drink from the bar, and surveyed the room with a careful eye, taking a sip from the cocktail he held, the drink an alarming shade of green. His enhanced vision could pick out more than a dozen Asari, but none of them, as far as he could tell from this distance at least, bore any resemblance to Samara.
The Krogan at the end the bar caught his gaze, and snarled suddenly, swaggering towards him.
“What’re you looking at, human?” the xenos asked as it reached him, the scent of alcohol on its breath.
“Just looking around the bar,” Malleus said calmly, taking a sip from his drink. “Is there a problem?”
“Don’t act smart,” the Krogan said, a low growl in its voice. “You were looking at me funny.”
“I really don’t think I was,” Malleus replied, his tone still even. “I reckon you should probably calm down, friend.”
“I’m not your friend,” the Krogan snarled. The xenos raised a fist, and it swept downwards, only to be halted by a whirring noise and Malleus’ bionic moving into its path. Its fist suddenly halted, and no amount of force looking able to move it, the xenos suddenly went pale as Malleus gently gripped it.
“You know,” he said, tone still calm and conversational. “I think that, if I wanted to, I could probably squeeze with enough force to turn every bone in your hand to powder.”
He squeezed a little harder, and there was the sound of bone grinding together, the Krogan clenching its teeth in pain.
“But I’m a kind, civilised person, so I’ll let you go so these good bouncers here can escort you from the premises in an orderly fashion,” Malleus continued, nodding to the Batarian and human that were moving towards them. He released his grip just as they arrived, and the Krogan grunted, rubbing its hand gingerly.
“Come on,” the Batarian said. “Get outta here.”
The Krogan glared resentfully at Malleus, who smiled back, before the human grabbed its humped shoulders and led it away; the xenos seemed too humiliated to put up a fight.
“Sorry about that, sir,” the Batarian said, shrugging its shoulders apologetically.
“Not a problem,” Malleus said. “Just glad to see you’re willing to deal with troublemakers. Keep up the good work.”
The Batarian nodded to him, and left.
“Well, that was interesting,” a voice next to him said, and Malleus glanced over to see an Asari leaning on the bar next to him. She smiled coyly at him, before continuing; “My name’s Morinth; I’ve had my eye on you since you came in. I’ve got a table over in the corner, away from the crowd. Care for a bit of a chat?”
“Sounds good,” Malleus said, secretly smiling. Mentally, he clicked the vox bead implanted in his ear thrice, his signal to Samara, who was waiting outside. Target found. “Malleus.”
They sat down at a table in the shadows of the bar, and Morinth said; “I come here almost every night, you know, looking for somebody interesting. A lot of the time, I get nothing, but sometimes I find someone, like you, Malleus. What are you doing here, though? I thought you were supposed to be some sort of species representative for the Council?”
“Yes, I am,” Malleus said. Part of him was wondering if he could get away with breaking the girl’s neck and simply killing his way out of Afterlife, but he decided such action probably wouldn’t endear him much in Aria’s eyes, and he needed her support for the war to come. “But sometimes I just want a good time away from prying eyes.”
Morinth smiled at this.
“I know what you mean,” she said. “I like privacy; dark places where I can watch without being seen. But tell me, Malleus, what do you want?”
“At the moment?” Malleus asked. A curious question, that one. “As I said; a good time. Just relax a bit, and let my hair down.”
“What hair?” Morinth pointed out, nodding to his shaven scalp, and Malleus laughed quietly.
“Good point.”
There was a quiet silence between them, and not wanting it to become awkward, Malleus asked; “So tell me, Morinth, what do you think of the music in the place?”
“I love it,” Morinth replied. “It’s dark, atmospheric, it crawls under your skin. Sensory stuff; it’s great, don’t you think?”
Malleus nodded, before saying; “I’ve got to say, I quite like that sensory band Expel Ten.”
“Really? You’ve got good taste, Malleus.”
“Why thank you.”
“They’re playing here in a couple of days, you know,” Morinth said. “Maybe you and I should go together.”
“That would be cool,” Morinth said. “Sometimes I spend the entire night dancing to stuff like this, you know, just getting caught up in the music. Of course, there are ways to enhance that, make the experience better, get it deeper and deeper into your head.”
“You talking about certain substances, by any chance?” Malleus asked.
“Judging me?”
“Not at all,” Malleus replied as he leant back. His bionic whirred as he rested it against the top of the wide couches set into the wall that served as the tables seats. “I’ve always been willing to try something new.”
Morinth’s eyes flickered to the augmetic limb, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Why’ve you got part of that armour of yours on?” she asked.
“Oh, this?” Malleus replied, flexing the limb to show it off. “It’s artificial. I lost my real arm some time ago.”
“Wow,” Morinth said. “How did that happen?”
“A Thresher Maw,” Malleus lied. “I was exploring a desert world that wasn’t as deserted as I thought.”
“You travel a lot, then?” Morinth asked.
“Oh yes,” Malleus said. “I enjoy exploring quite a lot.”
“Really? Scanning deserted worlds for interesting lumps of rock and bacteria?” Morinth asked, a slightly mocking smile on her face.
“Oh, there’s a bit of that,” Malleus said. “But then there’s the chance of finding wonder, of finding beauty, and of finding danger that keep me going. Always been a weakness of mine, you know; never quite being sure exactly who, or what, lurks around the next corner, what you might find on the next world and whether or not it’ll be dangerous.”
“You like to live on the edge, huh?” Morinth asked. “You know, you’re a much more interesting man than I first though you’d be. Much different to the person I saw in the Council meeting.”
“That? That’s an act,” Malleus lied. “The Council are damn terrified of me and the others, so we act nice and put them at their ease; makes life simpler for us.”
Morinth nodded, before saying with a somewhat suggestive look in her eye; “Hey, Malleus, do you want to continue this conversation somewhere…more private.”
“That,” Malleus said. “Sounds like a great idea.”
He clicked the vox bead four times, and got a return click. Bait taken. Prey right in the trap.
Remarkably easy, too.
#
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Malleus remarked as the door to Morinth’s apartment slid aside. It was clean, the work of servants, he suspected, and scattered with expensive looking furniture and artwork. “You’re quite the connoisseur of the arts, I see.”
“I’ve always had a weakness for it,” Morinth said as she stepped inside. “Are you interested in art, Malleus?”
“Well, I haven’t been here too long to really get a taste for this galaxy’s art,” Malleus said as he followed the xenos. He noticed a piece of sculpture on a windowsill, the tortured vista of Omega visible beyond, one that looked rather similar to some of Nef’s, and he bit back the urge to strike the xenos before him straight away; he would allow Samara that satisfaction. ¬“The work where I’m from is rather different, but I’ve always had a soft spot for sculpture, and I do quite like the work of an Elcor artist I saw not long ago, Forta. I’d be quite interested in seeing the exhibition he’s holding on the Citadel soon, you know.”
Morinth smiled at this as she leant on a couch. Malleus sat next to her, noticing the board on the table in front of them.
“You play regicide?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” Morinth replied. “Though we call it chess. I’m quite good, you know, and there’s something so very satisfying about luring an opponent in, thinking he’s got you helpless, and moving in for the kill when he least expects it.”
“I know that feeling,” Malleus said, noting the hint of relish in the Asari’s voice. “Nothing quite so pleasing as taking an opponent by surprise. Perhaps we should play a game sometime.”
“Maybe,” Morinth said, before sliding closer to Malleus. She looked into his eyes, smiling in a predatory fashion, before saying; “But why don’t we have a little fun?”
She blinked, and the world…changed. His vision seemed to reverse, the vibrant becoming dim and the dim becoming dazzling whorls of colour, but something had happened to Morinth herself; her eyes were deep black pits, her skin seeming to glow with some sort of unnatural power, and Malleus could feel the bitter, metallic taste of the warp at the back of his mouth. Emperor damn it, a psyker!
“Do you not want me?” she whispered in a voice layered with thousands of tones. “Do you not want to serve me? Wouldn’t you just love to do everything I ask you? That would complete you, make you whole, Malleus. Love me, Malleus, serve me. Worship me.”
Her voice was thick with hypnotic power, rife with some unnatural, Warp fuelled energy, a sheer tide of overwhelming psychic might that would crush any mind that tried to resist and replace it with nought but blind devotion. And against the adamantium fastness of Malleus’ psychoconditioned mind, it hit with the force of a tidal wave.
And it broke.
“You must think you’re so very clever, Morinth,” Malleus said, smiling mirthlessly. “You think you had me from the start, didn’t you? But I know you for what you are, Ardat Yakshi. Your days of killing have gone on long enough. They end now.”
The spell shattered as Morinth panicked, the colours of the world returning to normal as she scrambled away from him, terror in her eyes. Malleus stood, kicking away the table, scattering the chess pieces across the floor, and he advanced towards the Asari, cracking his knuckles.
“Suffer not the-”
The bolt of biotic force caught him straight in the chest and hurled him away, and he slammed into the wall with a grunt. Morinth stood, biotic energy coruscating around her form, before she said; “Keep back! Keep away from me!”
Something invisible grabbed her, some unseen hand picking her up and slamming her into the window, a spiderweb of cracks spreading across the hardened glass, and Samara entered the room.
“Mother!” Morinth exclaimed, panic in her voice as she lay pinned against the window. “What are you-”
Some invisible force struck her in the jaw, and Samara replied; “Do not address me with that title. The daughter I had is dead. Though you wear her face, you are not her. You are simply some monster I must kill.”
“I can’t help what I am,
mother,” Morinth replied. She pushed back, breaking out of Samara’s biotic grip and landing in time to block the Justicar’s next assault. “I am still your daughter.”
Morinth retaliated, a barrage of biotic bolts arcing across the room only to be dissipated by Samara, who returned with a single immense blast of power. Morinth threw up her arms, crossing them to block the force, even as it pushed her back across the floor. She retaliated with some sort of beam, just as Samara created one of her own, and the two biotic assaults smashed into each other. A stalemate reigned as mother battled daughter, the excess dark energy randomly picking up pieces of furniture, the scattered chess set, slowly swirling around them in some surreal, azure storm.
“Don’t bother, mother,” Morinth called out mockingly over the noise of the battle. “I’m the future of the Asari. I’m the next step in our species’ evolution. You can’t fight the future!”
“You’re a murderess and a monster,” Samara replied. “You must die. Malleus, strike now!”
Malleus picked himself up, the wind knocked from him, and approached the battle.
“I can be useful to you, Malleus,” Morinth said. “I’m as powerful as she is; let me kill her and I’ll be stronger than she’ll ever be.”
The brother captain stepped up to the biotic duel, ducking under the corona of force that surrounded it, before standing next to Samara.
“Go on,” Morinth said encouragingly. “Throw her down. Let me take her power.”
Malleus remained silent, calmly walking towards Morinth. Panic showed in the Asari’s eyes; if she tried to deal with him, Samara would sweep her away in a moment, but if she did nothing then Malleus would be her undoing.
Instead, she opted to shuffle back, gathering reserves of power and plucking one of the pieces of furniture from the air, slamming it towards Samara. The Justicar managed to block it before it could cause serious injury, but it was enough to break her hold in the duel. Morinth raised her arm to deal with Malleus, but he was Astartes; like lightning he moved, grabbing her arm before she could react, and throwing her to the floor.
She gave a gasp of pain, and managed to murmur; “Please.”
“Morinth,” Malleus said replied, eyes cold and unfeeling as flint. “What you have done is unforgivable. You shall brook no mercy from me.”
He nodded to Samara, who had come to stand next to him.
“Justicar,” he said. “Finish this.”
“Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess, Morinth.”
“No, please, I…”
Her neck snapped beneath Samara’s foot before she could finish her reply.
The Justicar stepped back from Morinth’s body, her head held low, unable to tear her gaze away from the daughter she had just slain.
“It is done,” she said quietly. “Three centuries of hunting, and finally she is dead.”
“Are you alright?” Malleus asked gently.
“Malleus, I just killed the bravest and cleverest of my daughters,” Samara said. “Do you think I am alright?”
Malleus was silent for a moment, before he said; “It was a foolish question. I apologise.”
“Don’t. I know you meant well. Please, let’s leave this place. It has caused me enough pain already.”
The turned away, heading towards the door, before Samara stopped for a moment.
“And Malleus?” she asked.
“What?”
“Thank you.”