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The rain had stopped several hours ago.

Gannet Point's streets still glistened beneath the afternoon sun, puddles gathered in cracks and low places where the water had not yet drained away. The air smelled faintly of wet stone, fallen leaves, and distant cooking fires.

Ramiel was returning from an errand for Chaplain Bo'shan.

The Salamander had requested several books from a small local library and Ramiel had volunteered to retrieve them. The stack was tucked neatly beneath one arm as he walked through one of the quieter districts near the edge of town.

The alleyway should have been empty. Instead he heard a noise. A tiny sound. Weak. Broken. Ramiel stopped. The noise came again. A thin, rasping cry. He turned immediately. The alley was narrow, hemmed in by brick walls and overflowing refuse bins. For a moment he saw nothing.

Then he spotted movement.

Near the base of a wall.

A tiny shape no larger than one of his hands.

Ramiel froze. "...Oh."

The kitten was filthy.

Its fur was soaked and matted. One eye was barely open while the other remained stubbornly sealed shut. It shivered continuously despite the relative warmth of the day. The tiny creature let out another exhausted mewl.

Ramiel slowly crouched. The kitten attempted to hiss. The result sounded more like a squeaky cough. Something painful twisted inside Ramiel's chest. The creature was far too young to be alone.

Far too young. He glanced around the alley. No mother. No siblings. No sign that anyone had cared for it recently. The kitten attempted another hiss. 

Ramiel carefully removed one glove. "It is alright."

The kitten disagreed. It tried to bite him. The tiny teeth barely pressed against his finger. Ramiel stared. The kitten glared back. Neither moved. Eventually the tiny animal swayed where it sat. Its legs gave out. Ramiel caught it before it hit the ground. The kitten immediately stopped pretending to be fierce and curled into the warmth of his palm.

"...I see." The statement carried all the gravity of a battlefield revelation.

The kitten began purring. Ramiel blinked. The vibration was so faint he almost missed it. He looked down at the tiny creature. The creature looked up at him through one half-open eye. A profound problem had developed.

Because Ramiel knew with absolute certainty that he could not leave it here. The realization arrived with all the inevitability of orbital bombardment.

"Oh dear."

He continues to walk- and he heads to one of the stores that contains foods for beasts- including infantile felinids. He is glad that he had local currency with him as he buys kitten formula, a plastic containment and litter. Bottles for the formula and all the other things that he would need.

The people at the store were friendly, knowledgeable and helpful. He has carefully made his way into Stone Flame base- taking one of the lesser traveled paths to not bother others as he does not sneak into his shared room with Cedric and a couple of other Primaris Marines as he sets up the area for the kitten. 

He has just finished washing the kitten- it’s tiny ferocious cries as it wiggles in protest - tug on his heart strings. Of course- that is when someone else notices.

Cedric found him twenty minutes later. The Apothecary stopped. Stared. Blinking once. Twice. He has noticed that Ramiel is holding something. One enormous hand cupped around something very small.

"What is that?"

Ramiel looked down. The kitten was asleep. "It appears to be a kitten."

Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rami."

"Yes?"

"Why do you have a kitten?" Cedric asks patiently.

Ramiel looked genuinely confused by the question. "It was abandoned."

Cedric waited.

Ramiel waited.

"...And?"

"It was abandoned."

As though that explained everything.

Perhaps it did.

Cedric sighed. "Show me."

Carefully, Ramiel opened his hand. The kitten yawned. Its entire face somehow fit inside Cedric's palm. "Oh."

The Apothecary's expression immediately softened. "Oh no."

Ramiel recognized that tone. It was the same tone Cedric used whenever someone found an injured animal. Or a wounded child. Or Ramiel.

"It is too young," Cedric murmured.

"I thought so as well."

Cedric gently touched the kitten's side.The tiny creature immediately rolled over and grabbed his finger. Its grip was pathetic. It also refused to let go. The two Primaris stared. The kitten purred.

Cedric closed his eyes. "We are keeping it."

Ramiel nodded immediately. "I reached the same conclusion."

"Of course you did."

Later that evening, the kitten slept inside a small box lined with clean cloth. Ramiel sat beside it reading one of his horror novels. Every few pages he would glance down. Just to make sure it was still breathing.

The kitten slept on.

Safe.

Warm.

Fed.

Protected.

For perhaps the first time in its short life. The tiny creature stretched in its sleep and pressed itself against the side of the box. Ramiel carefully reached down and rested a finger nearby. The kitten immediately latched onto it.

Without waking.

Ramiel went very still.

His expression softened.

Amelia didn’t know how long it had been as time had passed by in a haze of lust and tangled limbs between Alcyon and Malaran. Her body tightened with each pulse of pleasure as Alcyon’s’ thick cock speared into her again and again, the lewd squelching ringing in her ears as their mixed cum gushed out of her overfilled pussy with each thrust. 

She let out a gasp feeling his cock brushed against her g-spot, a bolt of heat coursed through her body, forcing her to inhale the musky air. Their presence overwhelmed her senses. She felt so hot, so full everywhere, her belly, her cunt, her breasts…  her breasts were so full and heavy, to the point that milk was leaking from her nipples. Amelia vaguely had a sense that it had to do with the Alcyon and Malaran somehow.

A mouth engulfed her breast, lathing the bite-marked flesh before sucking the milk from her leaking nipples. 

“Malaran!” Amelia squealed at the sensation, hearing Alcyon’s subsequent groan when her cunt suddenly tightened around him. She could hear the Black Legionnaire’s chuckle. A brief moment of clarity flashed across her mind, if Malaran was here, where was her son again? 

“Where…? Ohhhh!” The thought quickly vanished as Alcyon’s thumb rubbed against her clit.

“Focus, Amelia.” The Iron Warrior answered with a rumbling purr, the reverb heightening her sensitive body as his hips continued to push and pull with a calculated precision to make her quickly spiral to the precipice of another orgasm. 

Amelia whimpered when Malaran bit down on her nipple. Her hand reached to grasp the back of his neck. He purred, turning his head to nuzzle into her palm, “Ben is training at the base. He is safe. Focus on us.” He grasped her hand, guiding it down to stroke his hardened cock as his other hand teased her sensitive nipple, smearing the leaking milk all over the tip. She can see Malaran grin in anticipation, he knew he was next. 

A growl was the only warning she had before Alcyon slammed into her, making her cry out in surprise, “Alcyon!” Her hand reflexively squeezed Malaran’s cock, making the Black Legionnaire groan.

“On. Me. Amelia.” came Alcyon’s icy growl.

Amelia keened, wasn’t sure what her body was responding to anymore, Alcyon’s commanding growl, his cock bullying into walls, or the groping and teasing touches from the both of them. 

“Alcyon!” she could acutely feel the full girth and weight of his cock in her with each thrust. Her legs bounced helplessly as their hips met. 

“Off, Malaran!” The Iron Warrior snarled. The Black Legionnaire obediently backed off, contrary to his usual rebellious self. 

“Your body is ready and fertile.” Alcyon huffed, his grasp at her hips tightening.

 “You will take my seed.” Amelia nodded, desperately trying to make sense of what he said as the tension within her grew taut.

“You will take it all.” The coil grew tighter, Amelia whimpered, her fingers dug into his arms like claws.

“We will have a child of our own. We will. Continue. Until. We do so.” Alcyon fucked her harder, punctuating each segment of his declaration with each piercing thrust. His grunts turned into growls as he felt her cunt tighten around his cock. Amelia’s moans grew louder. While the thought of having another child never crossed her mind, the idea of it now doesn’t sound so bad in her lust-filled haze.

“Understood!?” he snarled as he pushed into Amelia deeply, holding her tight, their pelvises pressed together as he came, seed spurting into her womb.

The tension inside snapped, Amelia wailed as she orgasmed, her pussy squeezing  every last drop of seed from Alcyon’s pulsing dick, “Yes! Yes! I’ll have your baby!” Her legs shook as juices spilled out, making a slick mess between their legs. She whimpered as Alcyon sat her up in his lap, keeping her plugged with his cock. Quiet moans escaped as his lips claimed hers, her hips automatically moved to grind against him as the need and desire started to build again.

Looking up, her eyes met the gazes of her own and her son’s bonded astartes. Eyes, both red and blue, pupils blown out, dark and predatory, locked onto her body as if they were stripping her bare to her most basic components and claiming her in her entirety. A large rough hand slid down from her neck, smearing cum and slick over her chest, moving down massage her breast, haze and heat building in her again. 

“Alcyon… Malaran, please…” Amelia begged, a desperate moan escaping her, body arching and pressing her hand against his to get more of his touch, “more…touch me, please… ” 

Josh sat on the cold stone step, knees tucked under his chin. His shoes were too small again, biting at his toes, but he didn’t complain. He hadn’t complained in a long time.

Voices carried through the fortress like echoes in a well. Sometimes they were soft — like Mama, humming when she thought no one listened. Sometimes they were sharp, like the Librarian’s. Even when he whispered, his words hurt. They scratched inside Josh’s head until he curled tighter, until he forgot what he had wanted to say.

He didn’t speak anymore. He wasn’t sure if he still could.

Stór passed him once, eyes wet, lips trembling with words Josh never heard. Papa-not-Papa, that’s what Josh called him in his head. He wanted to grab his sleeve, ask if he remembered. If he remembered. But when the Librarian’s shadow followed, Stór’s face went smooth again, empty as glass.

Josh bit his lip until it bled. He didn’t cry. Not where the Librarian could see. He had a voice - but the words got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t speak. This place- it’s so cold. He doesn’t know where mommy is. He misses her very much. He misses his older sister Kara too.

When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he wandered. Down the worn paths between walls, out where the air smelled of dust and green things. He walked until the fortress stones ended and the broken earth began. 

He walked, and he walked and he walked. Until he couldn’t walk any more and he stumbled, staggered, and fell to the ground. Instead of hitting the ground hands - large and warm picked him up. Josh froze and looked up, up and up again.

That was when he found him.

A giant, like the one that took daddy. Josh’s lips quivered and tears fell down his wide eyes, he spotted some feathers tied to his armor in ragged loops, eyes sharp and clever. 

He crouched low, gently setting Josh down, as if not to frighten. His voice was warm, not sharp. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

Josh blinked up at him. The man smelled of old parchment and oil. Of nests. Of safety.

The giant grinned, teeth white against his scarred face. “That’s all right. You don’t have to speak. You can stay quiet as a mouse. I’ve got a place for little mice.”

And when Otran held out his hand, Josh took it.

For the first time in months, the silence didn’t feel heavy. It didn’t feel like drowning. It felt like waiting — like a bird holding its breath before it took flight. Otran had vox’d for Finch to come to his coordinates- which the youngest of the astartes did so. He arrives within a reasonable time frame as he nods towards Otran, and then to Josh, tilting his head at the young baseline human.

Finch didn’t speak at first.

He simply crouched near Josh, the way one might crouch beside a frightened deer. Not reaching, not looming, just being. His armor was smaller than Otran’s, plates fitted close to a body built more for slipping through shadows than crushing stone. He had no glowing eyes, no terrifying presence. Just a steady, simple breath.

In, out.

Josh matched it without meaning to.

He hugged his knees again, fingers twisting in the fraying hems of his too-light jacket. His voice still lived somewhere deep inside his chest, behind a locked little door, but breathing didn’t need words. Breathing was allowed.

Finch glanced up now and then, watching the line of trees where Otran had gone. The darkness waited there—thick, heavy, like something listening. Otran was off into the woods- back from where Josh and ran from to see if he can do anything for Josh’s mother. 

“Do you want a blanket?” Finch asked.

Josh didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his shoulders lifted—just a little—like wings remembering how to open.

Finch nodded, as if that was answer enough.

He reached to a pouch at his side and pulled out something soft, patched, and oddly clean. Not standard issue at all. Someone’s hand had sewn little bird stitches along the edges—clumsy but beloved. He unfolded it and held it out. Finch had been learning to sew- and blankets were always a hit, Warm. Comforting.

Josh didn’t take it.

Finch didn’t force it.

He simply set it beside Josh, close enough to reach when he wanted, far enough that it didn’t crowd.

The night noises carried on around them. Crickets. Wind through needles. A distant owl. The kind of sounds Aunt Rose had meant.

Josh felt the world begin to breathe again.

Time passed.

Then: footsteps. Heavy ones. Slow ones. The kind that changes a forest’s pulse.

Otran stepped back into the clearing, his feathers glinting dull silver in the moonlight. Grebe followed behind him, silent, helmet on, visor down. Neither looked at Josh right away. Finch tilts his head- Grebe hadn’t been called earlier- something must have happened that Otran called in for more back up. Likely not a good thing.

Finch stood.

Josh’s fingers crept toward the blanket. Just one inch. Then another. He pulled it around his shoulders like a shell.

Otran knelt. He was large enough that when he did, the earth seemed smaller for him being closer to it.

His voice was the same warm one. The same steady one.

But there was something else in it now.

A softness edged with grief.

“There was nothing left to save,” Otran said. He did not say I’m sorry. He did not say she’s gone. Children know those things already, and those words are for adults who need curtains over windows.

Otran had seen blood- had seen the car wrenched apart by Astartes hands. Otran didn’t have a body to help Josh bury. Which- well. That is something else that will need to be tracked down. If there is a body, living or dead. But for now- he was going to tell Josh what he knew.

It wouldn't give Josh false hope.

Josh stared at the ground.

His breath trembled once.

Just once.

And then it steadied.

Otran continued, gently, like speaking into a cupped hand. “You are not alone tonight.”

Josh blinked. His chest tightened. The blanket felt heavier, safer.

“Do you want to stay with us?” Otran asked. “Until we figure out where your path leads next.”

The little locked door in Josh’s chest did not open. Otran had heard of Bonds- and with a flicker of Sight- he can see one forming between him and Josh. Grebe- and some of the others will try and search for Josh’s mother- for any living blood family.

But something knocked, softly.

Josh nodded.

Just once.

And that was enough.

Otran’s eyes warmed, bright and full of a thousand colors that were not frightening anymore—only watchful, like stars seen through branches.

“Then come along, Little Owl,” he murmured.

He held out his hand. This time, Josh didn’t hesitate. He took it. And somewhere in the woods, a bird sang. Josh didn’t know how long they walked when something inside his head quietly oh so terribly quietly snapped and changed. 

Maybe it was when he got sleepy and the giant (his giant!) picked him up with warm gentle hands. Maybe it was when a few words bubbled up as his dream-but-not self huddled into the flowers growing between them.

Or  gathering the courage to ask his giant about Papa-not-Papa. no papa left after the big fight when he was small. He was going to ask where mama had run to when the LIBRARIAN had taken him and papa-still-papa-then if they found where the monster had eaten mama because he was bad. Josh was bad and unworthy.  A Terrible child who didn’t deserve to have a name or home or family or his SIGHT dream-but-not self or his Astartes giant. Terrible children Shouldn't have VOICES or nice things. 

Little Mouse was at home- it was during one of her days off. And the day was sweltering, and unfortunately, she did not have Air Conditioning. She was sitting in front of her electric fan sitting in a nice and comfortable chair, naked as a babe.

She is so hot. Her belly heavy with child, her eyes half closed and chin tilted up as she has a hold of her breasts and lifting them up as her fan blows the room temperature air full blast at her. She is so uncomfortable. She's sticky with sweet.

There is a water bottle filled with water, frozen ice cubes with fruit in it and that she sips on and a small bowl of snacks that she chews on occasionally.

Mostly she hasn't eaten much due to it being way too hot. To do much more then try and stay cool. She had tried going outside in a swimsuit - but the local swimming pools were way too full of people. The other issue is with it being so hot all of the parks with shade were covered in people.

The local rivers and creeks- the water with fresh snow melt are a bit too cold to be in, but those who are brave enough to- or foolish enough to are already in the rivers and creeks to cool down.

Those who can have found a way to go to the local mountains- where it's gorgeous and cooler, or a couple of hours away into the seaside town, the water cold- but the air not so horribly hot as in Gannet Point.

Little Mouse let out a long sigh and lowered her breasts, settling back into the chair. The relief from the fan was temporary, but she welcomed every second of it. Another sip from the icy water bottle sent a pleasant chill through her, and she pressed the cold plastic against the side of her neck.

Outside, Gannet Point seemed to shimmer beneath the relentless sun. Even from inside the house she could hear the distant sounds of people making the best of the heat—children laughing, the occasional splash from someone's backyard pool, and the hum of vehicles heading toward cooler places.

She glanced out the window and frowned. Not a single cloud in sight.

The child inside her shifted, pressing against her belly. Little Mouse rested both hands there automatically.

"I know," she murmured. "It's too hot."

The movement earned a faint smile from her.

For a while she simply sat and listened to the fan. The steady whir became almost hypnotic. The bowl of snacks remained mostly untouched, though she picked out a piece of dried fruit and nibbled on it thoughtfully.

Eventually, an idea occurred to her.

It wasn't a grand solution. It wouldn't magically make the heat disappear. But it was something.

Carefully, she pushed herself upright from the chair and shuffled toward the bathroom. A cool cloth, a shallow basin of water, and perhaps a soak for her feet might help. Even a few degrees of comfort felt worth pursuing.

As she filled the basin, she imagined the mountain forests beyond town—the tall evergreens, the cool shade, the streams that ran clear and cold beneath moss-covered stones. Someday soon, she promised herself, she would make the trip.

For now, though, there was only the fan, the cold water, and the determination to endure one more scorching summer afternoon. And sometimes, she reflected as she lowered her feet into the cool basin with a grateful sigh, that was enough.

Her beloved Hura- the ever-hard-working Space Marine and Apothecary was out on some field calls- the unexpected heat had caused some issues for the populace that he helps serve.

She hears something shuffling around and opens her eyes, she looks towards the door of her room and smiles as she sees Hura watching her.

"Hello Hura!" She says with a big smile. "Welcome home."

"I'm glad to be home, how are you and little Grub doing?" Hura asks as he comes close and gently nuzzles her face- not giving her a hug.

His Mouse didn't like such close physical contact with anyone when it was so hot and sticky, finding it all too much. She smiles at him and nuzzles him back.

"I'm... a bit too warm, but other than that, I'm doing alright." She tells him truthfully.

"Mhm. If you are willing to put on clothes- Rot Bone Base is well air conditioned and we can sleep, there for the night." Hura offers.

"Mhm..." Mouse responds as she grabs her phone to read what the projected temperatures are.

There is genuine dismay on her face. It's going to stay hot for hours after the sun goes down. She sighs and nods, "could you get my turtle dress? I ... it's going to... the heat is going to linger tonight for too long and it's going to be even hotter tomorrow."

"Mhm, we can stay at Rot Bone Base tomorrow too." Hura adds as he grabs the turtle dress.

It's a short Cotten dress that's a soft green with dark green and black turtle print. He grabs a cream-colored ribbon to help tie up his beloved Bonded's hair as he helps her get dressed and scoops her up.

"I can walk." Mouse says with a little laugh.

"Yes, but this way I get to hold you." Hura responds teasingly.

Mouse giggles a little at that, "Fine- I'll let you carry me to the car."

”Good morning, ma’am. What brings you here today?” The bank teller asked from behind the reinforced and glass-walled desk that they were sat behind. 

“I am here to make a withdrawal, I would like to take out four thousand dollars, please. It’s more than what the ATM will dispense to me at once, and I know I have more than enough in my checking account to cover it.” Honey answered with an attempt at a smile. “I plan on getting a few things for someone very special to me, and I want to pay in cash, as most of the things I want to get for him are things that are sold by people who don’t believe in things like credit or debit cards.” 

“I will need your ID and your debit card please, ma’am. I’ll need to check both, but if they do check out, then I will get you those funds, ma’am.” The bank teller instructed her.

Honey had anticipated this, had already taken both cards out, and pushed it through the small slot at the bottom of the glass partition to allow the teller access to both cards “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” The teller responds, using a couple of small devices, presumably to check the authenticity of both cards.  After a few moments they set both cards down and pass them back to her and saying “Alright, how do you want the four-thousand dollars dispensed to you? Do you want all of them as 100 dollar bills, or do you want some of it in smaller denominations?”

“I was hoping to get some in smaller denominations. I’ve got a list written out of how much of which one I want.” Honey explains, pushing the list through the slot.

The teller reads the note twice and nods “Very well then. I’ll be able to get these denominations counted out and put in an envelope for you. It’s going to take a little bit for me to count everything out. If you like we do have a waiting area where you can sit down and wait in,  ma’am?” Their gaze flickers over to the two men that Honey had walked into the bank with, and who were waiting impatiently in the outer waiting area for her return. “As you can see, the bank is quite busy right now, I am hopeful that you are willing to be patient.”

“Oh, I very much am willing to wait. If you’d tell me where this other waiting room is, I’d be quite grateful.” Honey answered, trying to keep her voice light and confident. “Oh, and if you’d let me borrow one of the bank’s phones? Mine… Died, on my way over, and there’s someone who I’d like to call. He might fuss if I’m not home when I’d said I’d be.”

“Certainly, if you’ll follow Marissa, she’ll be able to take you to that secondary waiting area that I talked about before.” the teller responds, gesturing to the bank manager who had come over during the course of the conversation. 

“If you’d follow me?” Marissa prompts. 

honey nods “Please, lead the way.”

The two men that Honey had come in with get up and start making their way over to where she is, but are stopped by some of the bank’s  security team - two armored Imperial Fists. 

Honey is brought into a secure side room of the bank and offered a phone. “Thank you.” She responds, genuinely grateful.

“Thank you for trusting us to handle your would-be kidnappers.” Marissa answers with a nod. “The police have already been called, and are on their way here. They will want to get a statement from you about what happened, ideally before you leave the bank.”

“I understand. It’s just… I am over an hour late from getting home, and those bastards destroyed my cellphone. My bonded marine is probably going to start worrying soon.” Honey explains. Darsas tended to be terribly time-blind, but he was fairly good at learning routines. And when she did need to work late at her office, she always called or texted him to let him know before her usual time she got home came and went this long.

“I understand completely. My Ulysses gets antsy whenever I’m more then ten minutes late, unless I’ve been sure to tell him I’m working late, or ran into heavy traffic on my way home.” Marissa answers, handing her one of the bank’s phone. 

Honey took in a deep breath, murmuring her thanks for the phone, before calling Darsas’ vox number. 

He picks up on the first ring. “Hallo darling, how are you?”

Honey smiles a little, glad to hear his happy voice and feeling a tad bit guilty that she’s going to ruin his good mood “Hello, love. I know I’m late getting home, and I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I have some bad news and some good news. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Oh, you know I like hearing good news!” Darsas answers, voice still ringing with good humor.

“After I do get home, I’m going to call my boss and request some immediate time off that I know is going to be approved. I’ll be taking the next few weeks off, possibly over a month, depending on several factors.” Honey explains.

“Oh, I do love spending time with you, my dear! … Why are you going to be taking the time off? Is your mother alright? What of your brothers and sister? Have they taken ill, or been injured?” Darsas asked, worried. 

“No, no. My family is fine. It’s just… Darsas, I need you to react calmly to this, you’ve got to promise me?” Honey asks, hoping that he’d agree.

‘I will do my best to respond appropriately to whatever you tell me, my love. That is all I can promise.” is Darsas’ answer. 

It was not an optimal one, but Honey had rather figured he’d say that. She takes in a deep breath and explains “I was kidnapped on my way to my car, from work this afternoon. Two men came up behind me and dragged me into a waiting van. I did talk them into letting me withdraw the money they wanted for my ransom from my bank, and was able to communicate that I needed help, and they stepped in. The police are on their way.”

“… I see. And these… Kidnappers. They are still at that bank?” Darsas asked, his voice was that fake-calm that she know could lead to a spectacular amount of trouble if he wasn’t properly redirected. 

“Yes they are, however, the police are already on their way, and justice can be best served if it’s’ dispensed by the system, rather than by vigilante justice.” Honey explains, hoping that she is getting through to him. In truth, she knows that there are ways that a particularly clever defense attorney could argue the two men into a lighter sentence, but the last thing that she needed was for Darsas to hunt these two idiots down and curse them with crotch rot or sudden rheumatoid arthritis. 

“… Very well. If it is what you want, then I will abide by your wishes.” Darsas responds, his voice dipping down low and sad. “I would be happy to lend the local arbites a hand while dealing with such foolish people, however.”

A silent breath of relief left Honey, as she was relatively sure that he was telling the truth. “Thank you, love. They destroyed my phone, but when I’m about to head home, I’ll find a way to call you and tell you when I’m headed there.”

“I could come find you, my love? It wouldn’t be a trial for me to do so, and I wish to support you in this difficult time.” Darsas offers. 

“… I would like you to be here by my side, please.” Honey answered. She’s good at handling crises for the most part, but this has rattled her. 

“I will be there as soon as I can.” Darsas promises.

Darsas manages to outpace the police in arriving at the bank, somehow. His huge and mutated form apparently terrifies quite a few people, but all Honey sees is her wonderful, loving and caring partner. Whom she rushes over to and hugs tightly. “I’m so glad that you came.”

“You called, my love. I will always come, if I am physically capable of it. If I am not, then I would ask one of my closest brothers to come and assist me you, especially with something as concerning as this. Now, where are these would-be kidnappers of yours? I would like to get a good look at them.” Darsas murmurs, his voice warm and light, though Honey knows better than to trust that syrupy sweetness, with the way his antennae are quivering in rage, and the low buzzing rumble that overlays his speech. 

The police walk into the bank, and the two men are dragged over to them in handcuffs. “They are over there, in the process of being arrested for their crimes. You wouldn’t try to interfere with that, would you?” Honey asked, having timed when she’d ask that at a point in time where he could see justice being served in real time. 

Darsas’ eyes narrow as he stares both of the mortal men down, still holding Honey in close “No, I will not interfere.” Darsas’ glare could melt steel in seconds. 

The two would be kidnappers stare in horror at the looming and furious Chaos marine and quickly submit to being arrested, to get away from the terrifying bastard.  

The courtyard of Stone Flame had been stripped bare. Walls scarred from countless drills, pillars splintered by repeated impact, and the scent of resin, blood, and scorched ceramite hung heavy in the air.

Darros stood atop the raised dais, gold pauldrons gleaming, ceremonial combat blade in one hand, a data-slate in the other. Before him, twenty warriors — ten First-Born, ten Primaris — formed a rigid line. Each one’s eyes met his, uncertainty, pride, or fear flickering for a heartbeat before the weight of his presence crushed it.

“This is not training,” Darros began, his voice calm, precise, carrying like a drill over stone. “This is your measure. You are here because you survive. And you will survive… or you will be remembered only as weakness.”

A murmur rose among the First-Born.

Darros raised a hand. Silence. The courtyard froze.

“You,” he said, pointing at veteran Gaius, “and you,” — his finger flicked toward Primaris Faeron — “will lead your teams through the trial. You will choose who stands, who falls, and who earns the Emperor’s favor. Indecision will cost more than courage ever could.”

Faeron’s jaw tightened. Gaius’ knuckles whitened on his bolter grip.

Darros gestured toward the obstacle course. Broken walls, precarious ledges, smoke jets, and simulated flamers created a maze designed to break them both physically and mentally. Each path offered the promise of progress — and the certainty of death for the hesitant.

“You will move in squads of five,” Darros continued. “Each decision, each hesitation, will be noted. Those who falter will be culled. Those who endure will learn the truth of brotherhood: it is not given, it is earned. Survival is merit, weakness is sacrilege.”

The squads were assembled. Faeron led a mix of Primaris and First-Born; Gaius another. Darros’ eyes scanned the courtyard, calm, patient, as the trial began.

Smoke rose from hidden vents. Flamers spat jets of heat. Tripwires rattled under ceramite feet. A bridge of scorched metal swayed above a pit, ropes fraying.

Faeron froze for a heartbeat, calculating the risk. A First-Born beside him faltered, unsure whether to leap. Faeron’s voice was steady but firm. “Move! Hesitation kills!”

The veteran hesitated — and a controlled flamethrower burst seared his armor, forcing him to stumble forward. Faeron adjusted, guiding him, his hands steady despite the heat.

Darros watched from the dais, noting every hesitation, every calculated choice, every spark of initiative. His calm satisfaction was faint, almost imperceptible — but it was there. He did not raise a voice, did not intervene. Survival was a teacher; he was the silent examiner.

Hours passed. The squads collided with traps, each obstacle a lesson in decisiveness, courage, and ruthlessness. First-Born scowled at their Primaris counterparts when they acted slower, slower only because they weighed the outcomes. Primaris clenched their teeth, minds trained to follow protocol, but protocol was meaningless here — only initiative survived.

A rope bridge quivered over a pit of simulated lava. Faeron’s squad reached it. A First-Born froze mid-step, eyes wide. “I… I can’t—”

Darros’ voice cut across the courtyard, calm, echoing: “Then you do not deserve to step forward. Let the bridge remember you.”

The First-Born faltered. Faeron grabbed his arm, yanking him across. The bridge groaned. Others followed, feet slipping. Sweat, blood, and fear mingled. They reached the other side.

Darros nodded once, almost imperceptibly, to himself. One more survived, one more proved.

By sundown, the trial ended. Only fourteen of the twenty remained. Faces streaked with soot and blood, breaths ragged, armor scorched, but eyes still sharp — and loyal.

Darros descended the dais, walking among the survivors. He touched Gaius’ shoulder lightly. “You understand now. Brotherhood is not sworn. It is survived. Weakness has no shelter here. Survival is your only covenant.”

Faeron met his gaze. “You… you didn’t touch those who hesitated,” he said, voice hoarse.

Darros smiled faintly. “I did not need to. Observation is enough. Fear is enough. The lesson is clear. You endured. You are worthy. That is your reward.”

He paused before the empty spots where others had fallen. “The rest… were not ready. And the Emperor’s work is not for the unready. Remember them. Honor their failure by not repeating it.”

The survivors bowed their heads. Their loyalty was not given — it was earned in fire, in choice, and in the silent scrutiny of the Golden Guillotine.

Darros straightened. “Tomorrow, we will do it again. Harder. Faster. More… unforgiving. But today… today you learned why survival is divine.”