Chapter 1 – The Witch’s Chains


    A King in my own mind… shackled, stripped bare, left to rot.


    The bells tolled again, a mockery of fate. The Ecclesiarchy’s droning chants slithered through the stone, twisting like a noose around her thoughts.


    Fuck them. Fuck their hymns. Fuck their righteous lies.


    Sitting up in her cell, Serathis caught a glimpse of what would be natural light if it ever made it this far. The damp stone walls smelled of incense, sweat, and decay—remnants of those who had come before her, those who had not left. She sat, fists clenched, remembering what brought her here.


    Once, she had stood in battle—bolter in hand, flame at her side, the light of the Emperor burning through the heretic filth. A purge, just like any other. A necessary eradication.


    Then the tide turned.


    Then came the screams.


    The enemy poured forth in an endless surge, fangs and rusted blades gleaming in the hell-lit carnage.


    A Sister fell beside her—chest cavity torn open, still clutching her holy flamer as her final prayers melted into gargling death.


    Serathis had reached out.


    And the Warp had answered.


    A pulse of raw, forbidden power surged through her veins. It saved them. It shattered the oncoming enemy like glass. It was the only thing that kept them alive.


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    When she awoke, she was no longer a Sister. No longer a soldier. No longer anything.


    They stripped her of her rank, her armor, her name. They called her tainted. A heretic. And now she languished here—forgotten, abandoned, condemned for the crime of survival.


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    A King in my own mind…


    With a feral scream, she slammed her fist against the wall, knuckles splitting against the unyielding stone. Pain was grounding. Pain was proof that she existed.


    "How dare they!?" she spat, her voice hoarse from disuse. How dare they?!


    She had saved her sisters! What did it matter how? What did it matter that she had to taste Chaos to do it? That she had drawn from something beyond the Imperium’s grasp?


    It had been power.


    It had been pure.


    And it had been… delicious.


    The Warp had not abandoned her. It was still there—like a lingering kiss, humming in her bones, curling beneath her skin, filling the void where faith had once lived.


    It whispered. It offered.


    And Emperor help her, she wanted more.


    Her blood dripped down the wall, pooling in the cracks of the stone. But the cracks… shifted.


    A single, red eye blinked open. Then another. And another.


    They multiplied, stretching across the cell, pressing in like a hungry tide.


    The air grew thick with the sound of wet breathing.


    And then, the voice came—smooth, knowing, curling around her skull like silk.


    "Fate smiles upon you, Serathis. All you need to do is smile back... and set foot upon its winding paths."


    Serathis narrowed her eyes. "I''ve dealt with your kind before. There is always a price to be paid for ''gifts.''"


    Laughter, from a hundred different directions, echoed through the cell—mocking, amused, predatory.


    "You are wise to be skeptical, but our master is fate itself, and at this hour, fate will grant you an opportunity for freedom... Now, you can stay... or you can leave. Fate only asks that you cause as much disruption on the way out. Particularly, if you were to see to any of the Odos Inquisition, perhaps spare a moment for fate and help yourself in the process, yes?"


    Serathis shifted her gaze, thinking, pondering, her mind racing. A way out? A chance to repay the bastards who locked her in this rotting hole?


    As if sensing her hesitation, the eyes in the darkness stretched into toothy smiles.


    "...Tomorrow... Look for the shimmering lights... tomorrow..."


    And then she was in her cell alone again.