Sevatar and the veterans of the Black Guard broke into the mysterious Shadow Prison, an unknown place unrecorded even in the oldest archives of the Eighth Legion.
There was no way to tell direction or distance. An invisible haze shrouded them, and every step felt as soft and muddy as walking upon clouds.
It was an intensely repulsive sensation. Sevatar felt as though he had entered the belly of some unknown primordial beast, and they were treading upon its digestive organs.
The Prince of Crows' keen sixth sense was screaming warnings at him, urging him to flee this place.
He did not know how far they had walked. Ever since entering the Shadow Prison, Sevatar had felt that the timer built into his power armor had malfunctioned. According to its atomic clock, they had already spent three Terra days here.
A dim candle flame flickered ahead of him. Sevatar saw a massive metal gate, with the intriguing designation XI inscribed at its center.
Compared to the ancient prisons holding Greater Daemons of Chaos, it did not appear to have endured many years at all.
Perhaps decades, or a century or two. It was very likely a relic left behind from the Great Crusade.
Elegant patterns had been branded upon the gate, their curves as flawless and harmonious as lines drawn by some artistically gifted genius.
Through the instincts of an Astartes, the Prince of Crows saw the figures of countless tragic, valiant warriors within those silent lines and curves.
But he had no time to linger. Sevatar led the Black Guard onward, until a mind-control prison radiating potent corruptive influence appeared before him.
An immensely powerful corruptive force spread from the prison, strong enough to shake even the willpower of Astartes.
Countless illusory voices rose from within the cage—men and