In the Highest Dome of the Maynarkh Dynasty, Phaeron Xunbekel stood before her throne, admiring her "masterpiece."
On the holographic star map before her, the signals marking the Orks and Aeldari were rapidly being hemmed in.
The Faceless Ones hunting team had successfully cornered the Ork Warboss Skar-Eye. As for those Aeldari Corsairs, after discovering that the supposed Tears of Khaine were nowhere to be found, they had long since begun thinking of retreat, only to find her fleet blocking their escape. The Third Legion's internal rebellion? Mere child's play. Once she had her hands free, she could crush it whenever she pleased.
Everything was under control. "Leo..." she murmured the name. "Did you think those petty tricks of yours could shake my eternal Dynasty? Once I have dealt with these guests, I will come for you myself. Your soul will be... the ultimate cure for my curse."
She was about to issue the order for "final purification."
Just then, a violent tremor rose from deep underground. The entire Highest Dome shook!
Xunbekel's blood-red electronic eyes abruptly narrowed. "What is happening?!"
"W-warning! Phaeron!" A Dynasty noble came scrambling in. "Number Thirteen 'Void' Dock... has fallen! Hekaton... Hekaton self-destructed!"
"What?!" For the first time, Xunbekel's voice wavered. "Hekaton self-destructed? Who did it? Leo? Is he capable of that?"
"N-no, it wasn't Leo! It was... it was..." Before the noble could finish, an emergency communications request forcibly took over the Highest Dome's main screen.
The face that appeared on the screen was handsome and elegant, yet filled with boundless malice and mockery. Asdrubael Vect.
He sat upon his throne, his chin resting on one hand, "looking around" Xunbekel's Throne Room with interest.
"Hmm... a nice place. Very... classical taste," Vect drawled. "Just a little too 'clean.' It could use some... living 'decorations.'"