Why was there a Keeper of Secrets aboard an Imperial warship?

The Righteous Protector-

Teresa sat in the secret chamber prepared for her.

Although she had been doing everything she could to restrain herself, the feeling of being gradually drained was still far too painful.

While Bona had still been aboard, she could feed on the psyker power he radiated to sustain her body.

But now that Bona had left, a hunger from deep within tormented her.

Worse still, she could clearly feel the steady beating of the human hearts outside the door. Those resilient souls gave off a faint fragrance that drove Teresa wild.

But she had to endure it. Her new master had ordered her not to leave this compartment without permission from the person called the Inquisitor.

If she disobeyed her new master's orders, she would very likely be sent crawling back into the Warp.

She had fought hard for this opportunity, and she would never let it go to waste.

At last, the compartment door opened.

Arlith stood there holding the Lectitio Divinitatus, an icon of the Emperor hanging around her neck and something resembling a scepter in her right hand.

She looked at Teresa with a conflicted expression.

"Follow me."

Meanwhile, on the middle deck, a Leman Russ had just exploded violently, engulfing the nearby Imperial Guard in a sea of fire.

"In the Emperor's name, hold the line! Destroy these heretics!"

"For the Emperor!"

Commissar Korn roared as he stood on the front line, resisting the endless stream of boarding Drukhari.

Suddenly, Admiral Spire's voice sounded in his ear.

"Commissar Korn, get everyone out of deck sector A-03 immediately. Abandon all weapons and evacuate at once!"

"Understood, Admiral."

Commissar Korn immediately gave the order.

"Imperial Guard, evacuate immediately! Abandon any equipment that slows you down and withdraw through gate XA-3!"

The naval soldiers and sailors who had been fighting desperately moments before turned and ran, even leaving weapons such as their heavy stubbers behind in their positions.

Even the armored vehicle drivers abandoned their beloved machines and hurried away.

The attacking Drukhari froze.

"These stupid monkeys. Even the lowest slaves in the arena have more courage than they do."

The Drukhari burst into laughter.

Given the layout of a Lunar-class Cruiser, losing this junction essentially meant that the Imperial cruiser was about to fall into Drukhari hands.

They gleefully pressed forward, preparing to indulge in a glorious hunt through the cramped compartments.

Suddenly, every one of their hearts lurched.

Heavy footsteps slowly approached, each step seeming to land directly on their hearts.

"What is that?"

"This suffocating feeling... it's as though someone is squeezing my heart."

Suddenly, a gate lit up with a red glow, followed by the harsh screech of grinding machinery.

The heavy doors slowly slid open, and a pair of pink eyes lit up within the darkness.

When the figure stepped out, every Drukhari was dumbstruck.

Why the fuck was there a fucking Keeper of Secrets aboard an Imperial warship?!

The sight of these "little darlings" made Teresa unable to contain her excitement any longer.

These were her master's favorite little snacks. If she captured a few extra to bring back, the god of excess would surely be pleased.

The Drukhari turned and fled in despair, firing their splinter weapons and all manner of devastating armaments at the Keeper of Secrets.

But Teresa dodged their attacks with ease. She moved nimbly through the cramped compartments, darting between the bulkheads and ceiling as she rapidly closed in on the Drukhari.

Then, under their despairing gazes, she tore one unfortunate victim after another to shreds and offered their souls to Slaanesh.

The Imperial Guard hiding on the other side felt chills run down their backs as they listened to the agonized screams coming from behind the blast doors.

"God-Emperor above, what happened to them?"

"Keep quiet, soldier," Maxen snapped.

He looked toward the thick blast doors.

At least the ship was saved.

Elsewhere-

Concept art of Commorragh

The enormous "Black Sun" hung high above the city of Commorragh. The city's inhabitants had dragged this dying star here using the cutting-edge technology of the former Aeldari Empire to illuminate their dark metropolis.

But the light this dying star provided was dim and feeble, hovering on the brink of death, much like the Aeldari Empire with one foot already in the grave.

The party advanced along Commorragh's gloomy streets. The Thunder Warriors' heavy power armour struck the ground of some unknown material with firm, ringing footsteps, while the Imperial Aquila reflected golden light beneath the dim lamps.

Commorragh's inhabitants watched the group curiously, unsure which Kabal had let this Imperial Army force loose.

When they reached the foot of a triangular temple spire, they found two enormous, misshapen Grotesques chained outside its entrance. These flesh-beasts, fashioned from unfortunate slaves and fitted with all manner of bodily implants and drug ports, were serving as guards.

A tall Wrack stood before the entrance, while several nearby Kabalite Warriors moved to bar their way.

"Halt, stupid Mon-keigh. This is the arena of the Death's Howl Wych Cult. All of today's duel slots are already booked."

Bona looked at him with a slight frown.

Already seething, Horus was about to step forward and snap the bastard's neck. Every Aeldari they had encountered along the way had called them "Mon-keigh." He had endured these xenos for long enough.

But Bona gently raised a hand to stop him, then gave him a slight shake of the head.

Horus shot the Wrack a vicious glare, then stepped back.

Bona examined the Wrack before him. With his metal mask and hands modified into a pair of blades, this fellow would indeed be easy to deal with.

But Bona did not want to cause too much of a disturbance right now. That would hinder their mission.

His eyes shone, and in an instant, the Wrack froze in place.

"You will let us in."

"I will let you in."

The nearby Kabalite Warriors stared in astonishment at the seemingly insensible Wrack, but a moment later, precisely aimed bolts struck them, blasting their fragile Aeldari bodies to pieces.

The Wrack turned and walked toward the doors as though in a stupor, scratching across their surface with his blades.

The doors slowly opened, revealing a dark, sinister corridor within.

Desiccated corpses, drained of every drop of blood, were impaled on the sharp blades lining the corridor. Their faces were contorted in agony, denied peace even in death.

"I'm getting more and more afraid of the dark," Horus said.

"I think I'm getting there too," Bona said.