5 Another Nighttime Talk

For a moment, Norn Cobain felt fear at what he had heard—he would not deny it. His heart frankly admitted the truth to his reason.

Yes, I am afraid, he thought. Because I do not know what will happen next.

Yet when he looked past the Inquisitor's uniform and saw those black eyes, he came back to himself.

Fear vanished without a trace. The unyielding will tempered by war took complete control of his body, carrying him beyond the reaction an Astartes might have upon hearing that his primarch had suffered relentless daemon attacks for ten thousand years. Ignoring the shackles of genetic engineering, he entered, with absolute calm, the most important role he possessed beyond that of a "son."

Responsibility weighed upon his shoulders, heavy as a mountain, yet his mind grew ever clearer.

"Will they come again?" the Ashen Hammers' Third Company Captain asked gravely.

The Inquisitor gave him a surprised yet approving glance, then nodded slightly and answered in a soft voice.

"Yes. They will come again. They will keep coming, one after another, without end. It has always been this way. If one wishes to accomplish anything good, one must face this boundless malice. But they are not coming for Vulkan."

The Ashen Hammers captain frowned. A fierce sense of alarm suddenly arose within his heart, which had only just regained its calm—his instincts seemed to be screaming at him not to ask further.

He ignored them.

"Then who are they coming for?"

The Inquisitor did not answer. A searing wind laden with radioactive dust swept past, lifting the black hair that had rested safely beneath his hat brim. Each dark strand danced wildly in the air like countless fine needles, obscuring his eyes.

At that moment, he resembled some strange being from ancient myths and