A/N: Let's see how this plays out, shall we?

Book Two: Corruption's End

Chapter 44: Revenant Concordance

"Their puppet strings are radiant and strangling, yet they insist they are free, even as their last breath is wrenched from them." - [REDACTED]

The Lady Inquisitor said nothing, taking in Magos Tyrham's revelation with poise and grace. She inspected his mask instead, blue eyes tracing the filigree stylings and details that surrounded the piercing orange glow of his eyes.

"Do you suppose that Magos Hagai and Josephus the Corruptor could be one and the same?" She asked.

"Extremely plausible," Tyrham started, arms clacking and hissing as they folded up into his robe. "Need to check records. Basic timeline holds up. The Corruptor first appeared in Imperial records almost two millennia ago," he said, augmented mind recalling the relevant data. "Although it is theorized he compromised his soul long before that. His specialty lay not in war-mongering, but sowing lesser minds with heresy and doubt."

"Now if Magos Hagai is the same person, how could he have reached such so many worlds?" The Lady Inquisitor prompted, crossing her arms. A sneer of wrath pulled her features tight as she remembered the wave of revolutions that swept through the nearby systems. "Could he have been a part of an Explorator fleet?"

"Astute observation," Magos Tyrham said, his titanic legs hissing pneumatically as they whorled him around. "Uriel has sent forth several. Successes, all of them. Except the one sent in M38.401," he said.

"I won't pretend to know what happened," The Inquisitor said, blood running cooler than usual, "but I can guess. Disappeared? Several of the ships found gutted and scoured?"

"Conjecture ninety three point six percent accurate," Tyrham said, his usual droning inflection marred by a note of dread. "Further conjecture: Magos Hagai fell to the Dark Gods at some point during his travels with the Fleet."

"Possibly before," The Lady Inquisitor said, "recall my earlier visit here. The corruption had sunk deep into the roots of Uriel. I thought I cleansed it all, but that appears to have been incorrect." She paused, looking over at Prexius. The Magos was hunched over Yang, her long body and skittering limbs twitching with excitement. The grinding of her tools was audible a dozen meters away. A high-tide wave of discomfort rolled across the minds of her kasrkin.

"It is likely that Josephus was either corrupted here," she continued, blocking out the bloody bandages spirited away by Prexius' servitors, "or he left agents to do his bidding before his departure. I think we can be agreed, however, that 'Magos Hagai' and Josephus the Corruptor are the same being."

Said aloud, it seemed final and resolute. Even Tyrham had no response, choosing instead to settle himself in the blue glow of Prexius' laboratory. But where... why... how does Ruby fit into all of this?

"Written journal seemed suspicious," he said, producing the red book.

"I have a digital copy here," the Lady Inquisitor said, retrieving a data pad. She tossed it to him, letting it slide across the table that separated them.

A binary chirp of interest escaped the Magos, and he scooped up the slate with all haste. A cable emerged from within his robes before embedding itself in the object.

"Deciphering will be more expedient this way," he said. "Though accurate translation will still take time to complete."

"Take as long as you need," she replied, "there can be no errors. There is too much at stake. Though why is a journal suspicious?" Accurate note taking is the only way to ensure nothing is lost or forgotten.

"Mechanicus' official records are kept on cogitators," Magis Tyrham said, retreating into his hood. "Or similar digital platforms. All of which are penetrable by machine-spirits and hacker-programs." He stopped, eyes parsing Sister Mwatabu. "Secrets are easier to keep when scribed in ink. Very creation of such an object is grounds for suspicion."

You must keep several then, the Lady Inquisitor thought. She knew Tyrham's views on innovation would be ill-regarded by the other Magi... if they knew of them. She remembered such thoughts referred to as 'Tech-Heresy'. A puff of air escaped her nostrils. What stupidity.

Mending the Imperium would be challenging enough, but with the Mechanicus stuck in such a backwards rut of thought, it would be even more difficult. The Martians' way of life was impenetrable to her, but perhaps Ira would be able to plant the seeds of reform once he ascended to his calling.

As for Tyrham, she knew he was a boon unlike any other. No matter what the Mechanicus thought of him, as long as he continued to venerate the Omnissiah, their cries of 'heresy' would fall on deaf ears.

Magos Tyrham waved his arm at the laboratory door, and it erupted into motion, revealing a pair of tech-priests. "My assistants," he explained. "I called for them when you arrived. They bear the fruits of our previous collaboration." Myrtenaster.

They stepped forwards, into the midst of the chuffing servitors and the pale blue light.

One carried a silken bundle in a nest of mechadendrites, his steps reverent and measured. The other's burden was unshrouded, carried on a plain silver platter. It was a bottle of wine.

"Show of goodwill as well," Tyrham added, nodding at the bottled vintage.

Her tongue ran over her lips before her gaze centered on the bundle of silk. She nodded at the tech-priest as he weaved his way through her kasrkin.

Bowing before her, he extended the edge of his burden. The Lady Inquisitor almost choked on the breath that dug itself into the flesh of her throat. Her weapon. Once the last reminder of Remnant, now just one more sign that her youth was real, the time spent on her homeworld concrete and unforgettable.

The hilt slipped loose of the ebony silk, already different than it was before. The solid sterling pommel had been replaced with a larger counterweight, a slim onyx skull with eyes of frosted sapphire. Also adjusted was the metal grip, now lined with blessed runes.

With a hiss of metal on silk, she slid the blade loose.

It was glorious.

Myrtenaster had been forged anew, the mirror of its owner. Though still thin by Imperial standards, the rapier's conical blade had been flattened and reinforced, edged in glittering adamantium. According to her wishes, the flat of the blade bore an etching of her own design - a blizzard of snowflakes intertwined with roses and their stretching thorns.

The revolver section of the sword had been re-chambered to fit smaller bolt shells, the circular crossguard wider and black enough to suck in the cerulean glow that surrounded it. As always, it was lined in sterling silver.

Closing her eyes, she channeled her aura into the weapon. Augmented by the warp's eldritch power, the weapon ignited. The etchings sprung to life as lightning danced down the weapon, snaking around the adamantium edges. It continued to pulse with power, the blade thrumming with warp energies and the light of the Inquisitor's soul.

She swung it, listened to its deathly hum as it carved out a slice of air.

"Magnificent work, Magos," she said. Turning to face her guard, her kasrkin stood in awe of the weapon. Even with their faces clouded in alabaster grimm masks, they couldn't hide their astonishment.

"Humbled," he replied evenly. "Although I can not claim one hundred percent of its artistry. The Dust-alloy blade was malleable beyond reason. With significant quantities…" he trailed off into a string of incomprehensible binary, his processors spinning at full power.

"Have you made any progress with the provided sample?" She prompted. After her adventures as an acolyte under the Hallowed Inquisitor, only two Dust rounds remained to her, precious treasures guarded as closely as her thoughts. One remained on the Scythe of Morning, under bolt and key. The other she'd left with Tyrham.

Though on Remnant, Dust ceased working once you traveled too far away from the planet, for some reason, it functioned perfectly in the Imperium. Though wieldable with an aura, the Lady Inquisitor never once detected warp-taint within the samples remaining to her.

The Magos stooped, his face meeting the Inquisitor's. "The material is…" His arm extended, bringing with it a small Dust crystal. "Wondrous. This is all I managed to synthesize."

Gauntleted fingers plucked the electric-blue slice of Remnant from Tyrham, bringing it near for closer inspection. It was uncut and polluted, but it was Dust. Forty years at the head of the Schnee Dust Company left her with many skills, none of them forgotten since she arrived in the Imperium. Tumbling the crystal through her fingers before clenching it in the palm of her hand, she sent a pulse of her aura into its glowing facets.

The crystal sang back, ready to be unleashed.

"You have done well," she said, skull-helm disguising the feigned sincerity of her words. He could have done better, but his enthusiasm (and more importantly, his dedication to secrecy) must be preserved.

"Noted," he said. "But revealing the source of this Dust would be-"

She cut him off with a slice of her hand. "A pointless endeavor. I was not being disingenuous with you all those years ago." Leaning forward, he returned the crystal to Tyrham. "To the best of my knowledge, you hold the only Dust sample in the entire galaxy."

"My Lady?" Sister Mwatabu interrupted, stepping forward with a sideways glance at the towering Magos. "My Sisters still fight. May I be released from your presence?"

The Lady Inquisitor bit down the indignant bile that climbed up her throat at the Hospitaller's insubordination. I must remain calm. I will not show the Magi anything that could be misconstrued as a flaw.

"Begone, Sister. Leave immediately." She said, her voice thin enough to make the Hospitaller shiver in her power armor. She retreated, before departing entirely. Another outburst like that… She shook her head, purging herself of the though. The Lady Inquisitor switched tracks.

"Magos Prexius," she called, "how fares my Representative?"

Instead of the insectoid Magos, Yang answered in the form of a shrill, howling scream. In a second, the Lady Inquisitor was at her friend's side… or what was left of it. Prexius had pinned aside the flaps of meat that used to cover her insides, while a tangled host of surgical mechadendrites and whining apparatuses stitched together the weeping red mess within. Yang wasn't awake, thank the Emperor, but she screamed all the same.

Unyielding vices bound her limbs, and they groaned under Yang's impotent thrashing.

"Her resilience is… quite unique," Prexius said, her angelic face pristine and sweatless. A long tongue leaked out between grinning teeth to lap at her upper lip. "But the damage is quite extensive."

Frowning, the Lady Inquisitor stretched her fingers, reaching out over her friend's face and swallowing it whole in a gauntleted palm. Closing her eyes, she reached out for Yang's mind. Staggering pain greeted her, so strong that it leaked a snaking trail of blood from her nose.

In response, she flooded Yang's mind with images of Ruby, of Remnant, of the Emperor and Holy Terra.

The screaming stopped. Thank the Emperor. The Lady Inquisitor sniffed, and her helmet washed away the blood that seeped into her mouth. Still no touch of chaos within Yang's ruined body or heaving mind.

But I've been wrong before. Ranshu and the Boy-King was a sour footnote in an otherwise spotless record, something that ate at her sleep and sowed doubts within her. Can I ever trust her again? If I treat her differently, will she be pushed even further from me? From the Emperor?

"Preliminary work is almost finished," Magos Prexius chirped, sticking a panel of needles into Yang's wrist. Above it hung a knotted rope of tubing, each one filling with multi colored fluids. "How else might I… assist the specimen?"

"Bionics," the Lady Inquisitor said. "Repair what you can. Anything you cannot, replace it entirely."

"I've already imagined several improvements," Prexius replied, nodding enthusiastically. "I shall save discarded tissue as well… to think what kind of they could do for my research!"

The Lady Inquisitor waved her hand. "It will not aid you overmuch, I think," she said. She'd shared the secret of Dust and Remnant's brand of folding technology with Tyrham, but it wasn't biology keeping Yang from perishing - it was her aura. Enlightening Amat about it had been necessary, but it was an incredibly delicate subject to broach - telling anyone else would be a liability.

"Your opinion has been noted and saved in triplicate," Prexius said. "Now that she's stopped her squirming, my work can truly begin. Worry not, Inquisitor. In a short time, the gifts of the Omnissiah will bless her flesh."

"Add nothing else without my permission," the Lady Inquisitor said.

Tyrham strode over from the table, circling the surgical bed Yang splayed across. The hem of his robe swept across the floor, licking at the Inquisitor's heels.

"Augmentations are expensive," he supplied, three of his eyes meeting hers. "Though cheap compared to your fortunate arrival." Chittering in binary, he sent his techpriests scurrying away, to the far corner of the lab. "Suspect the journal was not your only reason for visit. Neither was my craftmanship."

Echoing the Magos, the Lady Inquisitor waved her guard away, ordering them to attend their Captain. It was time to talk earnestly.

"Before we negotiate anything," she said, "I wish to partake of the wine you have brought me."

Bowing, Tyrham gestured towards the bottle, next to which stood a single glass. Stalking over to it, she flicked the cork away, and filled the waiting glass with red nectar. Tyrham did not notice the trembling of her armored fingers. With pneumatic hissing and a puff of steam, her skull-helm came undone. She removed it, instantly meeting her lips to the glass.

She drained it in seconds, filling her mouth several times over and gulping. It was delicious. Aged to perfection. How Tyrham obtained it, she would never know. The Lady Inquisitor filled her glass once more.

And again.

Sighing, she set the bottle aside, which sloshed in half-full disappointment.

"Let us be frank," she said, sitting down on the proffered chair, and placing a hand on the crown of her helm. "I believe hiding nothing will help us both." A facade. Tyrham has more secrets than I care to dream.

"Agreed. Served us well last time. Let us recount the current balance," he said. The Lady Inquisitor nodded in acquiescence. Even among its rouges, the Mechanicus does so love its lists.

"Assistance of the Lady Inquisitor in purging cultists," Tyrham said. "A service speedily rendered. Dissuaded the Council of Magi from investigating my affairs. Provided superior genetic material for my skitarii and Prexius' research. Provided a sample of 'Dust', a confounding yet potent substance. Provided schematics for efficiently folding weaponry. Lucrative for expensive personal contracts and clandestine agencies. Is my recollection incorrect?"

The Lady Inquisitor shook her head, strands of sweat-stained ivory falling in front of her eyes.

"In exchange, I transferred Iota-Rho-Eleven to your service. Upgraded his bionics. Upgraded your bionics. Added several. This includes a secondary heart, reinforced lungs and augmented skeletal structure. Upgraded your inferno pistol. Upgraded the Dust-alloy weapon 'Myrtenaster'. Provided bionics for kasrkin wounded in defense of Uriel. Upgraded their hellguns to cycle faster at lower energy cost. Is my recollection incorrect?"

Once more, the Lady Inquisitor shook her head. "Your recollection of the past is perfect, as expected. But we need to discuss the present. And the future as well."

He stooped low at her words, his hidden face sinking to meet her own. The Lady Inquisitor fought off the desire to wrinkle her nose at the stench. The Magos did not smell bad, just… uncanny. He reeked of ozone and oil, of holy unguent and powerful incense.

"The future?"

"The future," she confirmed. "But the balance has shifted, and I find myself in a far more dire position than twenty years ago." Admitting such a thing was normally suicide in negotiations… but the Lady Inquisitor had spent forty years running the Schnee Dust Company, and forty years in service to the Inquisition. Her tactics were foolproof. Pique his interest. "But I bring a wealth of treasures with me." Bait the hook.

"Treasures?" Tyrham asked, his voice level and flanged.

"For both you and Magos Prexius." She raised her hand before the Magos could inquire further. "I assure you they are treasures." Bait it well.

Tyrham considered that. "Magos Prexius as well?"

She nodded. When a liability presents itself, push it hard. Her father's words were returning to her, as they always did. The wine called to her.

"Very well. Count the balance," he said.

"Most notably, I have shaken the forces that assail your Workshop. Even now, they flee in droves, soon to be speared upon the Imperial Guard waiting outside your Forge. I promise my support in cleansing the rest of Uriel of taint as well… all in your name, of course." She leaned forward, looking into the eyes of her helm before boring into the Magos' robed back. "And I bring a wealth of intact Dark Eldar artifacts."

Magos Tyrham stood straight, bringing himself to his full height. He turned, shock exuding from him in the form of whirring processors and a hiss of binary.

"They include seventeen splinter rifles, twenty-one splinter pistols, six power knives of Commorragh make, three of them master-forged, three of them standard kabal issue. I've also secured two darklight lances, one blaster, and ten pairs of hyrda gauntlets."

Silence ruled the laboratory, only Prexius' whirrings echoing against the silent tables and radiant blue pods.

"As for armor, I have secured seventeen whole sets of Commorragh-crafted kabalite armor. Four other sets are damaged, one of them severely so. I have acquired sixteen intact wychsuits, three of which are damaged, two of which are ruined."

The Lady Inquisitor grinned.

"As for Magos Prexius, you would be delighted to know I've obtained their owners as well, some of them more… coherent than others. They include twenty-six deceased kabbalists, most having suffered grievous damage from lasbolts. Twenty-one of them are male, five of them female. They also include seventeen wyches, although they are decidedly more damaged than their kabbalite kin."

For effect, the Lady Inquisitor decided to indulge herself in another two glasses of wine before continuing. After business is concluded, I must sincerely thank him for the thoughtfulness.

"But I have more than just bodies. Their leader is alive but crippled, and in my custody. One of his lieutenants is alive, similarly impaired. Beyond that, I have captured two others, who are under unrelenting guard."

"Live eldar?" Magos Prexius squawked. "And from Commorragh no less? Praise the Omnissiah!"

The Lady Inquisitor fed her smile with yet more wine. "A bounty, to be sure. I would prefer these items disappear quickly, however. If they linger in my possession, questions might arise." Setting the glass down silently, her smirk vanished.

"But I desire a great deal from you as well," she said. "You have saved both my Representative and a member of my kasrkin guard. You will be outfitting her with the best available bionics. You are currently helping me investigate Josephus' history and intentions."

Start small. Nudge the door open.

"Such efforts are unequal to the proposed agreement," Tyrham noted.

"I also ask for seven of your most exquisite servo-skulls for my own purposes. I wish to contract you for your personal craftmanship as well." To clarify, she plucked a data slate from her satchel and slid it across the table to rest before Tyrham. He scooped it up, long fingers wrapping around the hard plastic.

"Forty-two subroutines suggest this is an attempt at humor."

"I assure you it is not.. But it is not the last thing I ask of you… nor the last thing I offer."

Confidence. Surety. Never relent. Not for a moment.

"Inquisitor?"

"I ask you to take your leave of Uriel… temporarily of course. Though this was my intention far before I arrived at your Workshop, your assistance in hunting down Josephus is no one-and-done task. I must have that journal decrypted, and I trust its contents to only you." Ensnare them in their egos. "And I need that project completed in under a year's time. Time I cannot spend ferrying myself or representatives to Uriel. This will ensure total privacy should you wish to investigate the artifacts I recovered, as long as you agree to discuss the results with me."

Magos Tyrham did not respond, but his arms rested on the table, reaching down from within his robes to rest unsteadily.

"Most importantly, I believe Josephus is searching for an artifact. He's investigated significant resources into its recovery, resources that could have made a much greater impact elsewhere."

"The Chariot of Salvation," Tyrham blurted, his neck snapping upwards. Rustled from the speed of his outburst, his hood fell away, revealing his head. Besides the six protruding orange eyes and intricate mask, his head was a tangled, writhing mesh of shifting cables, obscuring all humanity but for a set of perfect white teeth engraved with Mechanicus script.

The Lady Inquisitor smiled once more. "The Chariot of Salvation?"

"Recurring theme in the journal. Decrypting more as we speak, but…" he trailed off, long legs striding and pumping as he paced. "Its nature is unknown. All that remains to us is its name, given to us to by the ancient Mechanicus during the Great Crusade."

"Even in the greatest of ages, they couldn't find it?" The Lady Inquisitor asked.

"No. No no. You do not understand. Even then, knowledge of the Chariot was fragmentary, piecemeal. Now it is even less so. A whisper on the lips of the Omnissiah. Many explorators have fallen into non-functionality in its pursuit. Breakdowns. Erroneous feedback loops."

"They go insane," the Lady Inquisitor provided.

"Yes. Probability of this causing Magos Hagai's descent to ruinous powers: ninety-eight point nine-four percent."

The Lady Inquisitor scowled. "Is his chances of finding it any better?"

"Probability of its existence is," Magos Tyrham paused, the words that tumbled from him halting suddenly. "statistically negligible."

"Tell me all that you know of it."

"The only phrase personally encountered is the following passage from an ancient databank buried deep on Holy Terra, recovered in M34.435, dated to approximately M30.111: It is the Omnissiah made silvered flesh, pure knowledge, wrought in its most awesome form… it is the Chariot of Salvation." He shook his head, and returned his hood to its original place of rest. "Imperial Saint Totha investigated the matter further, but found little else of note. Aside from that passage, there are is little more than four kilobytes of reliable data on the subject. Most is incoherent. What can be deciphered is similar to the passage itself: vague metaphors and obscure imagery."

"This is troubling news," The Lady Inquisitor said. Had she spent the past six months chasing a monster who himself was chasing little more than binary ghosts? What if it is no myth? What if the ruinous powers help him uncover it? Josephus is often linked to the All-Knowing, the Master of Lies and Magic. Tzeentch. The accursed name curled her lip, and her aura flared in solidarity.

"And what about the journal then?" She asked. "Did Josephus succeed where Totha and ten thousand years of inquiry failed?"

Tyrham said nothing for awhile. "Cannot say. Besides the author, dates, and the Chariot, the remainder of the journal will take significantly more time to decipher. Extremely well-protected," he adds. The Lady Inquisitor's hand wrapped around Myrtenaster, tucking the precious weapon into her belt.

"Very well," she said, keeping her voice level and even. "Then until you have it deciphered, think upon the proposed exchange."

Tyrham replaced his hood, realizing it had fallen. "There is no need. I accept the terms provided. No matter what is contained between the pages, I stand with you, Inquisitor."

It took a concerted effort not to recoil from the suddenness of it all, and the Lady Inquisitor could only gaze at the Magos, attempting to find his unseen angle, the part where his winning out cost her dearly. There was nothing.

Slowly, silently, she extended her hand to Magos Tyrham, five fingers in ivory armor and silver filigree. He accepted the offered hand, shaking it once.

Prexius' tools bit into Yang once more, and the sound of grinding meat filled the laboratory.

A/N: Next chapter, Yang awakens! Let's hope everything goes smoothly for her... Oh, and for those who aren't too familiar with W40k, The Chariot of Salvation is an OC thing, so don't think you're missing out on what it is!

As always, be sure to drop a review! I love hearing from you guys, and the past few chapters' responses have been incredible! You guys are the best!

Review Replies:

tankbuster626: Might be a good idea...

Rickmer: He's an OC character, so everything about him is contained within this fic!

Absolute Configuration: Hope Myrtenaster was worth it!

redcollecter: As I said, next chapter!

Darkerpaths: You have good foresight... hahaha!

LordGhostStriker: Nope!

555814: Praise Saint Alfabusa!

robyork.1690: Thank you!

Guest: Glad to hear it! That's a feel I know all too well...

snoogenz: Well, she's like that in canon! XD

OBSERVER01: Thanks so much for all your reviews!

Dark Knight Gafgar: As this chapter highlights...

Magnificent Bosh'tet: Glad to see you too! :D

soupie13941: Now that would be a fuck-up indeed...

Quelthias: He's an OC, but Uriel uses a biblical system of naming! Josephus was actually a Jewish priest, but in here, his name is derived from Joseph McCarthy!

OnyxIdol: Thank you!

ATP: Hopefully this answered your questions! Prexius isn't trying to be sexy, she's trying to "perfectly" merge the extremes of both human and the Mechanicus, which resulted in her current... form. Can't answer anything about Remnant at this point in time...

The Flippant Writer: Thanks so much for giving this a try! You raise some good points, and I'm glad to see some people looking critically at my work. Seriously though, thanks for the review! I really appreciate hearing your opinions and speculations!

Kiyoushu: Hope you enjoyed Myrtenaster's new look!

Nemris: You just might! ;) Glad you enjoyed the chapter so much!

Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: Now that would certainly be a sight to see...

antisnipe: I know about the felinids! Can't say too much about Blake though!

A/N: Alright, until next guys! Keep up these awesome reviews!