(Links to previous chapters in comments). Miskorix stretched its amputated limbs, closing its eyes and sighing with relief at the absence of pain. Ever since that day it had lost its limbs, intense spasms of sharp agony had wracked what was left of its arms. Some days the sensations were just an annoyance, other days almost crippling. Today was the first day of peace. It had been an inelegant operation, barely more than a mutilation. Word of the loss of House Mercy’s flagship and it’s Kell had spread wide and fast. Within hours the other houses had attacked them, leaping upon their unprepared fleet with savage intensity. They had never been a popular house, in reality they had been barely tolerated. House Mercy had only survived by keeping itself small and out of sight until needed, then acting swiftly and decisively before disappearing once again. It fulfilled a needed function, no matter how distasteful the other Houses thought of it. The loss of its Kell had provided an opportunity the other Houses could not ignore, however. Losing themselves in the savage politics that had caused the downfall of their race so many centuries ago, the other Kells had leapt to ensure a rival’s destruction. Anyone of standing, anyone that might potentially raise the House banner in the future had been ruthlessly hunted down. Faced with certain death, it had realised the only way possible to escape was to lose everything it had once been and become one of the invisible masses, one of the worthless. It had to become Dreg. Miskorix hissed as it remembered the Captain sever one of its arms as it had ordered it to do. It remembered howling more with humiliation than pain, cursing the Captain with one breath and screaming for its personal guard to keep their guns level on it with the next. They had killed the Captain after the final limb had been cut away of course, nothing could live and remember the act. A grenade had taken care of the guards shortly after. Taking old Dreg armour, it had merged into the helpless masses that were seized by each House as the spoils of war and Miskorix of House Mercy had vanished. In the following years it had hunted for any information about its Kell. Slowly it had pulled together fragments and rumours until it was sure it new the resting place of its flagship. Invisible, Miskorix had subtly manipulated events to bring it to this place. The Fallen looked down at its limbs and felt slight muscular spasms, a slight tightness in its skin and a growing dull ache in its bones. [i]What a wonderful device.[/i] Throughout the universe The House of Mercy had lain waste to untold planets, destroyed countless civilisations and with each annihilation it had learnt and better perfected its art. The Light, the Darkness, it had encountered both and had studied both. House Mercy had learnt the weaknesses of each and had killed them all, but with the knowledge of death came the insights of life. The device latched onto its artery was one such example of House knowledge. Grown from organic tissue, it also used Vex simulacra technology with historical, forbidden lore from The Traveller to strengthening the immune system, boost physical growth and imbue a cellular defence against both the Light and the Darkness. Of course, as soon as it had been constructed, those that had made it had been killed and the Kell had taken the prize for itself. Miskorix rubbed the small tender sleeve of new skin at the end of its amputated arm. [i]Soon I will be whole again.[/i] The Hunter fell to his knees and half-coughed half-vomited blood into his helmet. Fingers ripping at its seals, he pulled it free and tossed it aside so that he could breath. [i]How…much…further?[/i] he managed to think to his Ghost. [i]Too far…[/i] He could barely hear his Ghost. It was as if it were far away. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but they blurred and dimmed. He could barely make out anything. He opened his palm and his Ghost materialised. “Guide me”, he gasped. “No more about…not making it. Take me as far as I can”. His Ghost was silent for a moment. “Put your left hand out”, it finally said. Its voice was strained. “You can feel the corridor wall. Keep crawling forward until I say otherwise. It is going to be a long way”. The Hunter took a deep breath, replaced his helmet and pulled himself to his feet. One hand on the nearest wall, he staggered forward. Miskorix tapped in the seven-digit code into the wall mounted security panel, its talons clacking against the pitted metal surface. With a screech of protest the door slowly rotated partly back into the wall, shuddering to a halt when it was just over half hidden. The Fallen stepped swiftly over the threshold. A huge opaque canister leaning drunkenly to one side against a surrounding metal rail dominated a room that was a broken mess of metal panelling, computer terminals, thick coils of black tubing and Fallen bodies. [i]At last![/i] The device it had taken from it’s former Kell was the first prize it had sought. This was the second reason it had worked so hard to come here. The first would start its rise back to power, this would secure it. Miskorix cautiously surveyed the room before slowly walking around the canister. It stopped when it stood before a large crack where something that was now a thick yellow crust had escaped. It spat and cursed violently. The weapon was beyond salvage. The contents of the canister, the culmination of decades of work, released, spent. Gone. The Fallen smashed a fist against the object, hissing in anger. What the Guardian had done to save its kind, it had aimed to use against its own. It had planned so long, so carefully for this and now… [i]No matter[/i], it thought as it slowly calmed, its eyes staring at the crack. [i]This was not unexpected. [/i] It flexed its good arms, feeling the new muscle growth. [i]A set-back. Nothing more. New plan needed.[/i] It already felt stronger, larger. It would not be long before it grew beyond Kell stature. [i]And then it begins.[/i] The Ghost glided out from the Hunter’s open, trembling palm to the canister. Bright white light flickered from its eye to sweep over the object. ‘It’s the source’. The Hunter coughed violently as he nodded. The Ghost stopped scanning and turned towards him. It paused as if considering then turned back and began scanning again. ‘This is the bio weapon Ikora mentioned’, the Ghost continued. ‘This is very bad tech. It’s dead now, but I can sense remnants of a well of Darkness. Somehow the Fallen have captured the essence of the Darkness, the taint as it were, and… oh my. This is… an abomination! The Traveller is here! Well, a sense of it anyway. There is a level of technology here that I have only ever seen in…me. There is resurrection tech here, but the Fallen have somehow subverted it. Instead of using the Light as fuel to bring back life, they are using the Darkness to target life. This kills the Light’. The Ghost swung to face the Guardian, its flickering scanning lights flowing over his body. ‘This is what is killing you. This is a Guardian killer’. The Guardian began to say something, but could not continue as a series of powerful coughs wracked his body. He removed his helmet again and wiped blood from dry lips. The Ghost swung back to scan the canister. ‘Eisca must have done something to it. This yellow taint has Fallen DNA spread throughout it. My best guess is that she was able to alter it so that it not only targeted the Light, but also the Fallen themselves. It was probably the only thing that stopped them from using it’. The Hunter fell to one knee. His Ghost tried not to notice. ‘It’s also the reason why the Fallen have been scarce here. This crack… the weapon is already spent. What was inside has been released; it’s in the rocks, the earth. The ground here is seeped in this foulness. Any Guardian or Fallen that remain here for long…’ The Ghost’s eye lense narrowed. ‘Wait… I can sense something still working in there. Something still…alive…’ It turned back to its Guardian. ‘I know you are weak. I know you are in pain… but I need your help Guardian…’ The Hunter bobbed his head; pulling his rifle from his back and using it help him to his feet. ‘What… what do you need?’ The Ghost directed a thin line of light at the centre of the crack in the canister. ‘We need to break it open’. ‘Won’t that release what’s left inside?’ ‘The only thing left inside is what we need to release. The weapon is done, empty, but there is something in there… we need to do this’. The Guardian simply nodded and dropped to one knee. Taking a deep breath he raised his sniper rifle and took aim at the canister. His hands twitched, trembling uncontrollably. He dropped the rifle and drew his hand cannon. ‘You better… move aside Ghost. This is not going to be neat’. The cannon roared. Round after round smashed into the object until with a sudden explosion the canister blew apart in a storm of crystal and frayed wiring. The Guardian fell backward with a grunt of pain. The Ghost flew over to look down into the remains of the weapon. ‘Oh my’, it gasped. Deep inside the canister, covered with thick yellow crust and suspended by a dozen tubes that were latched onto each of its surfaces with sharp teeth, was a dull, scarred Ghost.