The Warp.

  Again.

  Lilith floated in that impossible space, that realm of madness and shifting unreality. Colors that had no names. Sounds that weren't sounds. The sensation of being observed by things that existed beyond comprehension.

  The voices returned.

  They whispered and screamed and sang all at once, layering over each other in a cacophony that should have driven her mad. She couldn't understand the words—if they even were words—but she felt their intent, their desire, their hunger.

  They wanted her.

  They needed her.

  And with each passing moment in this place, she could feel herself slipping. Her sanity, her sense of self, everything that made her her was seeping away like water through a cracked vessel.

  No. No, please. I don't want to be here. I don't want to—

  Something touched her.

  Not a hand, not anything physical. But a presence, vast and terrible, brushing against her consciousness like fingers trailing across skin.

  Then another touch. And another. They were all around her now, pressing in, trying to claim her, trying to—

  Pull.

  Something yanked her backward, away from the abyss, away from the reaching presences.

  The Warp released her.

  Lilith's eyes snapped open.

  The first thing she registered was warmth. A small hand gripping hers tightly.

  Eve.

  Her twin sat beside her, those glowing red eyes fixed on Lilith's face with an intensity that would have been frightening if Lilith didn't recognize it as concern.

  Eve's here. I'm okay. I'm—

  Lilith became aware of other presences in the room.

  People. Standing around her. Watching.

  She turned her head—carefully, because her shoulder still ached—and took them in.

  Soldiers. The same ones from before, she thought, though it was hard to tell with their rebreather masks covering their faces. They stood at attention near the walls, weapons held ready but not pointed. Guarding, not threatening.

  She was in some kind of medical bay, she realized. The walls were industrial, utilitarian, marked with the usual Imperial iconography. The bed she lay on was hard and uncomfortable. Medical equipment she didn't recognize hummed quietly in the background.

  And then she blinked.

  For just a fraction of a second, the soldiers changed.

  Their faces became grotesque, twisted things. Flesh melting and reforming. Eyes that were too many, mouths that opened too wide, limbs that bent at wrong angles—

  Lilith flinched violently, her right eye squeezing shut, her hand gripping Eve's so hard it must have hurt.

  What the fuck what the fuck what the—

  She forced her eye open again.

  The soldiers were normal. Just men in uniforms and masks. No mutations. No horrors.

  I imagined it. Had to have imagined it. Just a hallucination. Aftereffect of the Warp. That's all.

  But her heart was still racing, and her hands were shaking.

  Before she could process this further, the door hissed open.

  A man entered.

  He was tall, wearing a long coat that looked almost like a military uniform but with subtle differences—more ornate, more authoritative. His face was hard, weathered, with the kind of scars that spoke of decades of violence. His eyes were sharp, calculating, missing nothing.

  And he carried himself with the kind of authority that made the soldiers straighten reflexively.

  Lilith's breath caught.

  Important. This guy is important. And dangerous.

  But it was the second figure that made her blood run cold.

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  A woman followed the man into the room, and Lilith recognized her immediately.

  Tall. Imposing. Wearing armor that was simultaneously elegant and brutal—black and gold, marked with the symbol of an eye with a line through it. Her head was shaved, her features severe, and she moved with the kind of predatory grace that spoke of lethal training.

  A Sister of Silence.

  Oh no. Oh no no no.

  Lilith had seen enough memes, enough fan art, enough wiki articles to recognize them. The Anathema Psykana. The Silent Sisterhood. Anti-psyker warriors with Blank properties even stronger than Eve's.

  Why is she here? What happened while I was unconscious? Did I do something? Did Eve—

  Her thoughts spiraled, panic building in her chest.

  The man stepped forward, and when he spoke, his voice was cold and clipped.

  "I am Inquisitor Rathken of the Ordo Hereticus. You will answer my questions truthfully and completely. ”

  Inquisitor.

  The word hit Lilith like a physical blow.

  Inquisition. Holy shit. We're being interrogated by the fucking Inquisition.

  She knew what that meant. Even with her surface-level knowledge of Warhammer 40k, everyone knew about the Inquisition.

  They had absolute authority. They could declare anyone a heretic on suspicion alone. They could order executions, Exterminatus, entire worlds purged if they deemed it necessary.

  And they were here. Looking at her. At Eve.

  We're dead. We're so dead.

  The Sister of Silence positioned herself near the door, silent and watchful. Her gaze swept over Lilith and Eve with professional detachment.

  To her, Lilith realized with a distant sort of relief, they probably just looked like children. Strange children, maybe, but children nonetheless.

  The suspicious eyes, though. Those were definitely noted.

  Inquisitor Rathken clasped his hands behind his back and stared down at them.

  "Your eyes," he said flatly. "Explain them."

  Lilith's mouth went dry.

  Eve, still holding her hand, remained perfectly still. Watching. Waiting.

  "The younger one," Rathken continued, nodding toward Eve. "Red eyes. Both of them. Glowing. Unnatural."

  His gaze shifted to Lilith.

  "And you. One eye gold. One eye red. Also glowing. Also unnatural."

  Shit. Shit shit shit. I didn't even know my left eye was gold. I've never seen a mirror. But of course it's suspicious. Of course they'd notice.

  Lilith's mind raced.

  What do I say? What CAN I say?

  The truth? That she was a failed psyker experiment? That Eve was a Blank weapon? That they'd escaped from a dead ship full of corpses they'd accidentally killed?

  That would get them executed. Or worse.

  A lie? But what kind of lie would even work? Inquisitors had ways of detecting lies. Psychic interrogation. Truth serums. She had no idea what tools they had at their disposal.

  Rathken's eyes narrowed. "You will answer. Now."

  Lilith stood up on shaky legs, her left shoulder protesting the movement. She pulled Eve close to her side, wrapping her arm around her twin protectively.

  Her hands were trembling. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool air.

  Think. Think. What would make sense? What would keep us alive?

  "We..." Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. She swallowed and tried again. "We can't remember anything."

  Rathken's expression didn't change. "Explain."

  "We just—" Lilith forced the words out, each one feeling like pulling teeth. "We woke up in a pod. We don't know where we came from. We don't know... anything. Just the pod, and then the crash, and then—"

  "Your eyes," Rathken interrupted, his voice sharp. "How did you acquire eyes of those colors?"

  "I don't know," Lilith said, and the desperation in her voice was entirely genuine. "I don't—we don't remember. Please, we didn't do anything wrong. We're just—"

  She pulled Eve into a full hug, burying her face against her twin's shoulder.

  Eve hugged back immediately, her small arms wrapping around Lilith with surprising strength.

  We're going to die. They're going to kill us or hand us over to someone who will experiment on us or—

  "Please," Lilith whispered, her voice breaking. "We didn't do anything wrong. We just want to survive. Please."

  The room was silent for a long moment.

  The Sister of Silence tilted her head slightly, her gaze thoughtful. She made a gesture—sign language, Lilith realized—and Rathken's jaw tightened.

  "The Sister believes you pose no immediate psychic threat," he said slowly. "But your eyes suggest mutation. Possible Warp corruption. Possible—"

  The door opens as the guards lets in another one.

  A figure strode in, and Lilith looked up through tear-blurred vision.

  The newcomer was dressed in robes of white and red, ornate and flowing, covered in religious iconography. A tall hat sat on his head, decorated with seals and parchments. He carried a staff topped with the Imperial Aquila, and his face was flushed with righteous indignation.

  "Inquisitor Rathken!" the man boomed, his voice filling the room. "I demand to know by what authority you hold these children!"

  Rathken's expression went from cold to ice-cold. "Ecclesiarch Vandros. This is Inquisitorial business. You have no jurisdiction here."

  "I have every jurisdiction!" Vandros shot back, his staff striking the floor with a heavy thunk. "This is a hive world under the protection of the Adeptus Ministorum! Any matters concerning the spiritual wellbeing of its citizens fall under our purview!"

  "These are not citizens. They are unknown entities with clear signs of mutation—"

  "They are children of the God-Emperor!" Vandros gestured dramatically at Lilith and Eve. "Look at them! Terrified! Traumatized! And you stand here interrogating them like common criminals!"

  "They crashed in an unauthorized pod of unknown origin with unexplained physiological abnormalities—"

  "Abnormalities that may well be the God-Emperor's blessing!" Vandros stepped forward, his expression fierce. "The Emperor works in mysterious ways, Inquisitor. You of all people should know this. To condemn children without evidence is to risk condemning the Emperor's own chosen!"

  Rathken's jaw clenched. "I am conducting an investigation to determine if they pose a threat. That is my duty."

  "Your duty is to protect the faithful, not terrorize children!" Vandros's voice rose. "I will not stand by while you—"

  "You will stand down, Ecclesiarch, or I will have you removed from this room."

  "You do not have that authority on a Ministorum world—"

  "I am an Inquisitor. I have authority everywhere."

  The two men glared at each other, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

  Lilith watched them argue, her mind still reeling, still desperately trying to process everything.

  An Ecclesiarch. That's... church. Imperial Cult. He's defending us?

  She didn't know whether to feel relieved or more terrified.

  The Sister of Silence remained by the door, her expression unreadable, watching the confrontation with professional detachment as her haze goes back to both Eve and Lilith.

  Eve pressed closer to Lilith, and Lilith held her tighter.

  Please, she thought desperately. Please just let us go. Please don't kill us. We didn't ask for any of this.

  But she knew, with a sinking certainty, that their fate was no longer in their hands.

  It was in the hands of these men.

  And in the grim darkness of the far future, mercy was a rare commodity.