A/N: Sorry for the long delay! Enjoy!

Book Two: Corruption's End

Chapter 48: Ill Omens, Harsh Words

"Should have been a moment of rapture. Joy. The Omnissiah blessings are few. Priceless. Circumstances regarding its discovery initiated a host of… desperate runtimes." - Magos Tyrham of Uriel

It was time to see Yang. Though she'd received an alert several days ago from Magos Prexius, the fact that her friend had finally awoken didn't seem real to her until she left the last Forge, purged the last cultist.

Her head pounded and ached, a brutal battering that felt like an Ork was using her head as a choppa. As her Valkyrie soared through the smog-choked skies of Uriel, she leaned back in her harness. She was alone.

Massaging her temples, she let out a pained noise, praying to the Emperor to interject and end the pulsing agony.

I went too far, she thought, not for the first time. Making a show of her ability to dispense the Emperor's justice in order to secure a semblance of loyalty from the Palatine had been utterly draining. Even her aura reserves seemed affected.

Dealing with Yang while fighting off a raging headache was a stomach-turning proposition. Her blonde friend always managed to surprise her, get under her skin, bring out things best left dead and buried.

The Lady Inquisitor sighed. At least she was alone for the time being. The past month was a whirlwind of blood and death, of strategy and brutal, unforgiving tactics.

And dealing with the bombastic General Campbell was exhausting in the extreme. A capable man, in that he earned his position with decades of experience rather than the nepotism that ran rampant through the ranks of the Guard. He never failed to remind her and his inferiors at every available opportunity either. At least obeyed her orders.

Without him, the Sisters, and her Captain's unrelenting, despondant stares, she had a moment to breathe.

Unfortunate that she had to spend it in pain.

At least I've made leaps and bounds in my studies.

When Chung touched down on one of Tyrham's landing bays, she made her way towards Prexius' labs, before a tech-priest stood in her way.

"My Lady," it hissed. "My Master wishes an audience with you. Your Acolyte is present as well."

Ira? The Lady Inquisitor wondered. I ordered him to return to the Scythe of Morning for the time being. Her witches' sight burbled an unpleasant, noisy warning. Something... malevolent is near.

"Very well," the Lady Inquisitor allowed, turning on her heel. Yang will have to wait a few more minutes. "Did the good Magos say anything about this audience?"

"Reason stated as: decryption complete."

Her soul boiled. Josephus' journal!

She expected Tyrham to be in a typically excited state, in a fluster over new information and experiments to try.

When she found him in his most private solar, he was still.

"Lady Inquisitor," he said, the words clipped and mechanical. Ira sat in the corner making adjustments to his arms. He seemed intent on avoiding his Lady, though he still bowed his head in deference.

"You left the ship," she said, striding over to stare into Ira's eyes. He was as solemn as his former Master, face drawn and pale.

"There was a magenta-level missive from…" his eyes darted over to Tyrham. "From the Hallowed Inquisitor."

The Lady Inquisitor scowled. Though she had left her former Master under pleasant circumstances, that he would seek her out now was a sign of a grim tarot. She missed her old Master (he had been more of a father to her than any Schnee), but they had agreed that direct contact was best left for emergencies. Dire emergencies.

"Magos" She turned to her ally. "What of Josephus' journal?"

"Work is finished. Journal was… haunting. Brilliant." The toes of his enormous legs clacked against the metal floor. "The Chariot… it is… it is real."

"What is it?" The Lady Inquisitor demanded. "What did you learn?!"

The Magos shuddered. Even though Tyrham was more machine than man, more wires than veins, he shuddered.

Yang Xiao Long hated hospitals. Clinical, stuffy, and always filled with a miasma of misery that plucked the shining teeth from fake smiles. Though Prexius' lab was no hospital, she grew to hate it even more. It was endlessly dark, and always echoing with the Magos' chittering legs. Though the care she'd been afforded was beyond reproach (she was only in her wheelchair for two days), she resented her confinement within Tyrham's workshop. And after the wheelchair came something far worse.

A cane.

She'd had the thing for a single fucking day, and she wanted nothing more than to snap it in half and jam the broken ends into Prexius' reptilian, ever-smirking eyes. It had been four days since her awakening, and already cabin fever assaulted her.

Groaning, she rolled off her makeshift bed that'd been tucked into the corner of the lab, impacting against the cold metal floor. It was frigid against her skin, but it woke her up, sent a chill rippling up her spine. Time to begin the day. Looking up at the simple stick of steel that served as her cane, she scowled.

"Fuck you," she said rolling over. Straining, she pushed herself into position. Baring her teeth, she hissed as pain wracked her, billowing out from her stomach and pulsing into her arms and legs. Felt like someone was threading rods of molten barbed wire through her bones. Snorting, she reigned in the agony, let her aura deflect its edge. She was already sweating, and her arms trembled with the effort it took to keep her aloft.

Letting herself descend, she grunted with the effort to took to reassert herself. "One!" She cried. Once more. "Two!" Licking her lips, she frowned, watching a drop of sweat splatter against her hand. Though she'd retained her muscle mass thanks to Prexius, her body wasn't used to exertion. A few more days, and I'll be back in shape.

Grunting, she launched herself into a series of push-ups. Faster. She didn't bother counting. She'd stop when her forehead hit the floor. Yeah! Fuck you, cane! Oh, but it was searing agony, and soon enough, her foresight was rewarded with a solid clunk as she smashed into the floor.

Silence.

"Ow."

Rolling over, she looked up into the muted lights, panting with exertion. At least I'm out of my flak armor for a bit, she thought, picking at the dampening tunic she'd been given. It wasn't Mistralian silk, but it breathed a hell of a lot better than her usual get up. Looking at the gown, she realized she hadn't worn her Hunter's clothes since Woadia.

A hand emerged in her vision, wrapped up in sleek synskin.

"Fifty-two today," its owner said. Yang beamed. He'd stopped wearing his mask.

"Thanks, Amat. Think I'm getting the hang of this whole 'being awake' thing." Taking his offered hand, he hauled her to her feet. Reaching out for her cane, she grabbed it deftly, growling at its touch.

"Easy there Yang," Amat said, still supporting her. "It won't bite."

She whapped his calf for that one. "You sure about that, assassin-man?" She asked, a impish grin splitting her cheeks. He shrugged.

"You'll have to hit me a lot harder than that," Amat said, stepping away from her.

"As soon as I'm back in fighting order, we're having that spar," Yang said. "And I will break you."

"If you say so," He said, shrugging. Stepping back from Yang, he gestured towards the laboratory doors. "After you."

Yang chuckled. "Such a gentleman," she replied, shuffling forward. "Did you get the eggs liked I asked?"

"Prexius said no more eggs for breakfast."

"You fucking traitor," Yang said, utterly aghast.

"She's a hundred years old, Yang, and has spent a good seventy years of that practicing her craft. If she says no more, you're cut off."

"Unforgivable," Yang said, grimacing as the cane rang off the metal floor. "You are obviously unfit to be my guardian. I shall have words with Weiss."

Amat stopped, a pained grimace on his face for a split second. Yang stopped as well, turning to face her friend. "Hey," she said, slapping his ass with the end of her cane. "Quit it. I'm just messing with you."

"I know. But if you really do want to speak with the Lady Inquisitor, you'll have your opportunity. She's returning today."

Yang swallowed.

"I pray you two can see eye-to-eye," Amat said, reaching into his belt and withdrawing a roll of parchment. "Perhaps this will help."

"What is it?" Yang asked, accepting the parchment. She began to unfurl it before Amat stopped her, a pained look on his face.

"It's a gift for my Lady… it's meant for her. I understand if you still wish to look, but I would… prefer if you didn't."

"Oh… sure. Yeah." With a sly grin, she tucked it into her hospital-robe. "You got it, assassin-man."

"I am pleased to see that you are well, Yang."

Yang didn't return the greeting, instead choosing to continue her approach. Her hunger sated and Amat personally dismissed by the Lady Inquisitor, only the two Remnati remained in the meeting hall. Too spacious by half, and a tad echo-y.

"Yang?" Weiss asked, her smile faltering.

Huffing with the strain it took, Yang pressed on until she was face to face with the Inquisitor. Grinning, she wrapped her friend in her arms.

The Inquisitor was stunned for a moment before collecting herself. Patting her back, she pulled apart, wearing a disarming smirk.

"It's... good to see you, Weiss." Despite her apprehension, she spoke the truth. "I'm… I'm sorry. Before we go any further, I need to say it."

"Of course." Weiss said, her hand reaching up to rest on Yang's shoulder. She was out of her armor, once more clad in her black leathers. Yang's fingers wrapped against the hilt of her cane.

"So… uh… I'm… sorry. I'm sorry, Weiss. What I did was… stupid." She shuddered, suddenly chilled. "Monstrous."

Silence reigned.

"Were you expecting a 'no problem'? An 'it's okay'?" The Lady Inquisitor asked, leaning forward. "You're not going to get one. It's partially my fault. I was lax in my instructional duties. I should have informed you better about the perils of the warp. The warp is insidious… sometimes its corrupting touch lurks for decades before taking root. Oftentimes a solitary moment of weakness is all it takes for Chaos to seize control. Even if you think yourself encased in a citadel of mental fortitude, one wound from a corrupted weapon will send you spiralling down into damnation."

Yang opened her mouth, but a raised hand silenced her.

"Say nothing else. I know what happened. Why it happened. And know that you are a fool."

The condemnation was like a dagger, sharp enough to pierce her aura.

"I-I know Weiss."

"Swearing an oath to protect one mere guardsmen in the chaos of the Imperium is just like you, but it mustn't happen again. The consequences are dire, Yang. More so than you could possibly fathom."

"Worse than… that?" Yang asked. For a time, the Inquisitor said nothing.

"Walk with me," she said eventually, leading her to the towering, embossed doors that led from the conference room.

"I'll do my best," Yang grumbled, her cane clank-clank-clanking.

"Yang, if you had fallen any further, you could have torn a rent in reality. A tear through which daemons by the legion could have spilled out. Or, a daemon of monstrous power could have taken possession of you, twisting you into a daemon yourself." The door opened, revealing a stretching, soaring hallway, adorned with the sigils of the Mechanicus. "Or you might have just gone mad and struck down your own allies, careless of who died, as long as your hands were awash with blood."

A knot formed in her synthetic stomach, the first one she since its installment. Like all sensations recently, it felt removed and dulled, but it knotted all the same.

"It won't happen again."

"It won't," Weiss agreed. "Amat did not properly adjust for your aura. Not at that range. It is not a mistake he will make twice."

"About that," Yang said, wincing. She looked over at her friend, and found her focused instead on the end of the hallway. "I want to hit you for it. A lot. Sending one of your spooks to hover over me? Every day? Every moment? To kill me, no less!" Biting her lip, she pressed onwards, the cane cold and dead in her hand. "But I get why. I do. I've seen it, Weiss. What chaos is like. What the whispers of the warp are like. It will never happen again. I just…. resent that you don't trust me, I guess."

"I can't," The Lady Inquisitor said. "I've come too far, and too many lives are on the line for me to fall into sentimentality." Yang sighed. Not the answer she was hoping for, but certainly the one she'd expected.

"Fine. So be it," She said airily. "Though… about Amat."

"What about him?" Weiss asked, turning to face her. Her eyes were colder than the cane.

"Thanks for letting him stay with me. I like having him around. Where I can see him, I should add. Y'know… talk to him. I can see why you…" Yang trailed off, the words lost to her. Instead, she made sucking, whooshing noises before tapping Weiss'' forehead. For a moment, a smile split the Inquisitor's facade.

"Eloquently put, Yang."

"You know what I mean."

The two friends shared a small grin, before Weiss broke it. "It was necessary. The last mental inhibitions of the Vindicare have been wiped away."

"Still shouldn't have told him that he couldn't go back," Yang said.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Weiss tapped a button on the side of the door. Splitting open, it revealed Magos' Tyrham's central hub, now gutted and abandoned save for a few scuttling Tech-priests. Yang gaped. What the hell happened here? I was here two days ago! The Inquisitor acknowledged none of it however, choosing instead to continue stomping along to her destination. Yang hobbled along.

"I do what I must. You did most of the heavy lifting yourself."

"I did what?" Yang asked, stopping. She prodded at Weiss with her cane, hooking her shoulder. "I sure as shit didn't go rooting around in his brain. That's your department, Ice Queen."

Weiss shook her head, gently removing the metal hook from her arm. "That's true," she said, her words heavy like a battle-tank. "But you do things without realizing it. Your psychic power is greater than you can imagine."

Yang didn't like where this was going. She stepped forward, pulling at her cane, but it was still held in the Inquisitor's iron fingers.

"Don't worry, Yang. I have your word, after all."

She released the cane, and Yang put her weight upon it, wishing it would snap in half. "Am I as powerful as you?"

"It's quite possible," Weiss said, nodding her along. "Maybe even more so. When I first felt you on Elodia, it was almost like looking at the Emperor himself. You need more time. Sanctioning." They moved on, their steps echoing up into the cables and catwalks before they were swallowed completely.

"I had no idea," Yang said, before running her tongue against her teeth. What am I supposed to do with that kind of information? They stepped into a lift, attended by a single red-robed half-person. He burbled in techno-speak before the Inquisitor barked an order. Setting the lift into a climb, she turned to Yang.

"It's why Amat had to follow you," Weiss reminded her. "But I'm glad to hear you're getting along."

Yang chuckled. "He doesn't emote very much... bugs the shit out of me. Other than that, he beats the hell out of the rest of the creeps in this place." She shivered. "Magos Prexius… Terra, I'd be happy if I never saw her again."

It was Weiss' turn to smile. "I'm sorry Yang, but you'll probably be seeing a lot more of her."

Yang's grin died, crushed like an insect under a bootheel. "What? Why? I'll be good to go in like two days!"

Instead of replying, the lift door's opened, revealing a penthouse balcony. The wind assaulted them, gusting hard enough to drown Weiss in a flapping coat of golden locks. Yang would have apologized, if she wasn't stunned by the sight before her.

From the depths of Uriel, shuttlecraft and fliers by the hundred streaked skywards, freighting cargo and personnel into the atmosphere. They looked like a swarm of black flies fleeing a carcass, trailing soft arcs of pure white jetstreams behind them.

"Weiss, what's happening?"

Brushing the ocean of hair away from her face, Weiss strode forward, resting her hands on a steel railing. "We're leaving," she replied. "And the Magi are coming with. We've obtained a few clues about Josephus, and the time has come to corner and kill him."

"Fucking finally," Yang snarled, a fist meeting her palm. "And if that bastard knows anything about Ruby, I will pummel him senseless until he tells us everything."

Weiss made a plastic smile. "Of course," she said, returning to watch the host of departing craft. "Look at all this Yang," she added, calling her friend to the banister.

Tying her hair down and tucking it into her clothes, Yang joined her friend, fighting the wind all the while. The roar of passing craft drowned out everything, resonating in the core of her very being.

"It's incredible," Yang admitted.

"I ordered this," Weiss said. "It is by my hand that Uriel stirs and aids our march to war. So much power."

Yang didn't know what to make of that. She rested a hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder, but her friend remained still and unmoving. Sinking against the banister, she buried her face in her hands. "It's so little," Weiss said. "Such a tiny fragment of the Imperium."

"Alright, spill," Yang said, giving Weiss a shake. "What's wrong?"

Weiss drew Myrtenaster, clenching it tight in her slim fingers. They caressed the blade, a thumb passing over the beautiful thorned inscriptions with reverence and care.

"It has returned to me."

"Emperor's rotten balls. What happened to it?" Yang asked, stepping forward. Her violet eyes drank in the weapon's slim elegance, the sheer power radiating from its hilt.

"Tyrham happened to it. We, Yang, are Myrtenaster," the Inquisitor said, withdrawing. She sighted down the sword, squinting behind the enlarged cylinder. With a quick flick of her finger, she spun it. It clicked softly.

Yang's tongue ran over her lips when she saw the size of the shells it contained. That isn't Myrtenaster. It's a monster.

"This weapon," Weiss continued, "is fit to become the stuff of legend. Master-crafted. Powerful beyond reason. Yet it is but a single blade. A single torch meant to illuminate an echoing cavern." Flicking it back into its sheath, she looked at Yang, glacier-melt eyes cold enough to make the polluted humidity of Uriel feel like a winter wind. "We are the same. Brilliant lights standing before a duty we will never see to completion."

The departing aircraft still roared, but silence ruled the balcony. Yang felt the need to look away. The desire to avert her gaze was almost unbearable. She knew what her friend was doing. She knew that Weiss knew. And she knew that no matter what she thought of it, the Inquisitor wouldn't care.

Ice Queen was dead.

"Weiss, you can't think like that," Yang said, a shitty attempt at breaking the deadlock.

"It doesn't matter what I think," the Inquisitor spat. "I am merely being realistic." Resting her hand on Myrtenaster's hilt, she appraised Yang once more, her lip quivering. "I've been recalled by my masters. There is to be a meeting."

Picturing a room of people powerful enough to earn the Lady Inquisitor's respect and obedience wasn't easy. Yang shuddered at the thought of being in the same room of more than one Inquisitor. The apprehension in the Inquisitor's voice didn't help.

"They want you right now?" She asked, peering out from a flash of golden bangs. "You just said we're closing in on Josephus!"

"The meeting is not the only matter that concerns me. I'm afraid we'll have to separate for a time."

Recoiling, Yang stepped back, away from the leather-clad Imperial. "What?" She asked in a small voice, one barely audible over the wind. "Separate?" Then, a fire grew in her artificial gut, and a snarl escaped her lips. "You're joking! Do you know how fucking stupid that is? You were just telling me how big the Imperium is, and how dangerous chaos can be! Did the warp finally get to you?"

"No!" Weiss barked, anger splitting her face down the middle. "Never! I…" The rage slipped away, leeching away into nothingness even faster than it had appeared. "I-I know what the risks are. If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't order it. I don't want to part from you Yang." The weight of age returned to her shoulders, crushing her under its unrelenting mass. "I know… I know what you think of me. What I've become. And you're right. I don't care."

She laughed, a sound as thin and clear as glass.

"I don't care." A black blur, and Yang's robe was bound in an iron grip. Weiss leaned in, teeth bared. "I don't. Fucking. Care. I know what Josephus is after, and what will happen if he gets it. Forget Cadia. Forget seeing Ruby! Trillions will die. But they won't just die. No, Emperor, that would be a mercy!"

This wasn't how Yang saw the conversation going, and for the first time in a very, very long time, a tendril of fear snaked into the core of her being. Who is this woman?

"They'll suffer, Yang," the Inquisitor said, spittle leaking from the corner of her lips. "Their screams will echo in the warp, unending wails that will drive into your mind like barbed nails. Then, once the last fleet is broken, the last regiment cast down, we'll be next. Our souls will be forfeit, suffering for all of eternity in a realm too nightmarish to even comprehend. If you're so sickened by what I've become, you're pathetic. I do what I must. Anything less than that is a road to damnation. You had a taste of it down there when your little Ruby stand-in was taken."

Yang's shaking arms rested on the Inquisitors shoulders, fingers digging into her back as she fought off the tears that threatened to whisk away into the wind.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Darron's leading the mission, he'll give you the specifics. We won't be separated for long. But if the mission succeeds, we stand a good chance at cornering Josephus before he finds what he's looking for," the Inquisitor said.

Yang nodded before channeling the entirety of her aura into her forehead, focusing it into a spearhead-point. I don't care if she's right, no one talks about Ros like that.

She smashed her forehead into the Inquisitor's nose. Weiss' previously unshakable aura splintered under the sheer force, and blood shot forth from her nostrils. The Inquisitor stumbled back, her hand scrambling for purchase on the banister.

None was found, and she collapsed onto the balcony floor, scarlet rivers pouring out from between her fingers.

"You're worse than Cinder," Yang said, picking her cane up. "But that doesn't upset me. What pisses me off is that you're right. I hate what you do, and I hate that you're right."

The Inquisitor could only listen, leaning against the banister while she wheezed in agony.

"And the worst part is that somehow you're the least horrible one. Somehow, the fact that you're not completely twisted makes it so much harder to hate you. You've done a lot for me. I can't deny that. But I think some time apart might actually do us some good."

Yang snapped her cane over a knee, throwing the pieces from the balcony. They fell, tiny slices of glimmering metal swallowed up by Uriel's industrial hell. "I'll go do your dirty work, and I will not fall. Chaos tried its schtick once, and it failed. It won't get another chance."

She turned to leave, before remembering the roll of canvas in her robes. "Amat made this for you. Goodbye Weiss." Leaving it at her feet, she limped back to the elevator.

Only when the doors slid shut did she break down and sob.

The Lady Inquisitor watched Yang go, the taste of wet iron poisoning her tongue. Grunting, she pulled herself up, the splinters of her nasal cavity biting into her ability to think clearly. Pain pulsed from every shard of bone, and several different balconies swam in her vision.

Cursing under her breath, she stumbled over to the roll of paper Yang left behind.

You idiot, she thought past the tears of blinding pain. You got worked up again! Why is Yang so good at needling you into an over-reaction? Her friend's naivete was corrosive and deadly, but at least she was learning to outgrow it. At least she's going on the mission.

In truth, it was Tyrham's revelation that had shaken her… allowed Yang to dig underneath her skin. If Josephus finds the Chariot of Salvation… She huffed, spitting blood down her front. If he is as close as Tyrham believes...

"Emperor give me strength," the Lady Inquisitor said. "Emperor give me strength." Wiping her bloodied fingers on her thigh, she unfurled Amat's gift.

Only then did the tears come.

A/N: Sorry about the huge wait on this one. I could list all my excuses, but I don't think I will. Real life can suck, and it can be busy, but it can be pretty great too. Thanks to everyone who's still with me, and I really hope you enjoyed today's chapter!

Please, please, please let me know what you thought! I always love to hear from you guys.

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...Are no longer a thing. I really apologize for this development, but it's a necessary one. From now on, I'll be replying to reviews the normal way - via PMs. This way I can avoid bloating my word count and get you chapters a hair faster than I would otherwise be able to.

As for everyone who reviewed in the two months since Chapter 47, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I really appreciate every single person who takes the time to leave a comment or review.

I'm happy to see so many new faces picking up the story, and I'm flattered by all your kind words.

Until next time, ONWARDS AND UPWARDS! FOR THE EMPEROR!