The streets of Macragge basked in gentle starlight, orderly and spotlessly clean.
Buildings of white marble and polished alloy stood in crisp lines, symmetrical and imposing.
Residents in simple, elegant white robes moved through the streets with measured grace, conversing quietly, their faces bearing the rational, contented serenity distinctive to citizens of Ultramar.
The fresh scent of plants drifted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of discussion from distant academies.
This was a model city, perfectly planned and steeped in logic and virtue, the beating heart of the Five Hundred Worlds.
Yet beneath this harmonious facade, a discordant note was tearing through the peace in the cruelest way imaginable.
An officer in the crisp, dark blue standard uniform of the Ultramar Auxilia, bearing the insignia of the 14th Army, staggered down the middle of a bustling commercial street.
His steps were stiff and unsteady, as though he were drunk or sleepwalking.
Sunlight fell across his pale, contorted face.
A face that should have displayed resolve and loyalty was now wracked with painful spasms, its muscles twitching uncontrollably.
His eyes were vacant and unfocused, staring straight ahead yet seeming to see nothing.
His soul seemed to have been forcibly stripped from its shell, leaving only a dying puppet controlled by invisible strings.
He walked into the crowd.
The white-robed residents browsed the goods in shop windows, spoke softly with their companions, or held their children's hands. No one noticed the strangely behaving officer, much less realized that the shadow of death was spreading silently and swiftly among them, like ink dropped into clear water.
The officer's lips trembled violently, as though he were waging some desperate, silent struggle. Harsh, animal-like gasps rasped from his throat.
"For... the Emperor!"
A hoarse, distorted cry, filled with boundless pain and despair, was