Aboard the Fourth Chapter's flagship, the Black Mercy, in orbit around Sondheim VIII.
Adams stared at the hololith on the strategic table. Beside him, Nicholas spoke, his voice deep.
"Auspex matrix scans show it could be classified as a temperate world, but I see only fire and death. I hear only the terrifying shrieks of the dying."
"The howling storms are more terrifying than the storm that reshaped Fenris when the Foundry of Creation turned."
Nicholas examined the hololith. Unlike Fenris, where the Storm Ocean covered almost the entire planet, Sondheim VIII had only a narrow sea around its equator.
"This world is suitable for me." The "Spirit Guide," clad in armor, standing in the deliberately dimmed shadow of the lumen lights, spoke, his voice icy.
Adams recalled the Black Emperor's words: "Two highly advanced xenos races, ruling the system together, rotted from within, ultimately unleashing a devastating war."
"After years of war, they finally destroyed each other with terrible weapons."
"Within minutes, every intelligent being on the planet died. Those were the terrible shrieks you heard in the Warp."
"I have them to thank for their final decision." The Death Lord's emotionless, cold words made it impossible for Nicholas to grasp his meaning.
"The weapons they used left a treasure for my Chapter."
As he spoke, Adams rapidly marked the hololith. He would personally go to the largest hive, near the equator.
Nine other "Spirit Guides" would target the second through ninth largest hives.
One thousand four hundred seventy-three "Spirit Mediums" would lead teams to the other hives and the ruins of industrial complexes.
Heavy transports tore through the clouds, smashing apart floating debris of various sizes.
The wreckage of a suspended church, once dedicated to xeno gods, burned and crashed.
The black ships ignored the rolling hills, landing on the plains at nightfall.
Adams stepped off the ramp, looking at the distant hive dome.
The collapsed dome's ruins still towered over most hive domes.
Low exclamations sounded in his ears, from non-Court Brothers.
They saw moonlight and lightning outlining the forms of spectral airships above the cracked dome.
Adams was about to order action when strange whispers sounded.
The seasoned "Spirit Medium," with a shift of his thoughts, distinguished two different sounds among the vox channels.
One was sharper, like a bird's cry.
The other was lower, like a beast's roar.
He was not afraid, but pleased. His eyes lit up. His icy voice held a hint of joy.
"Praise be to my Lord."
He and his battle-brothers had once painstakingly sought specters lingering in reality. Now, they had an entire world of them.
Adams immediately ordered a "Gravedigger" adjutant to remain with the Court Brothers granted other powers by the Black Emperor and the other Order's Shadows.
He led the "Gravediggers" and "Corpse Collector" towards the dome.
The group moved through grass taller than themselves, swiftly approaching the hive ruins.
When his helmet was still 6.1 kilometers from the dome's edge, the "Spirit Guide" heard the hallucinatory echoes of gunfire and the screams of the dying.
He then saw the tormented xenos specters, fighting each other.
The larger group, roaring like beasts, carried man-high guns that sounded like sawing wood when fired.
Their melee weapons were heavy: some like axes, some like hammers.
The smaller group, likely the attackers, slid down from spectral airships.
They had bird-like beaks, and wing-like membranes extending from their arms to their ribs.
They carried pistols in one hand, and lighter weapons like swords in the other.
Amidst the deafening gunfire, two spectral airships burst into flames.
Thousands of xenos specters glided down, raining barbed rounds on the beast-like xenos.
The beast-like xenos raised their heavy guns, their piercing roar growing sharper.
...
The spectral armies replayed their millennia-old war, again and again.
The "Spirit Guide" activated his Spirit Vision, examining the specters. He immediately noticed each radiated a deep black with green tint.
"Wraiths." He did not speak on the increasingly whisper-filled vox channel. His voice came directly through his speakers, instructing the less experienced Court members.
Most often, the souls of the dead go directly to the Warp. Many "Gravediggers" and "Corpse Collector" had never encountered specters.
"Specters may linger in special places, but if they were extremely resentful before death, or cannot find peace afterwards, they become wraiths."
"They became wraiths by reliving the agony of their deaths, over and over."
Adams quickened his pace.
He only slowed when, after watching the battle replay four times, he was less than a hundred meters from the battlefield's edge.
The "Spirit Guide" extended his spiritual energy, chanting "Words of the Dead" in Dunnic.
"Warring spectral armies!"
The moment the words left his mouth, his spiritual energy touched over a dozen wraiths at the battlefield's edge.
Swung axes and dodging figures halted.
They ceased their billion-cycle battle, turning to look at the black-armored giant.
The "Spirit Guide" continued his "Words of the Dead": "Obey my command. Submit to my will."
The moment he finished, the wraiths began walking towards him.
He no longer needed, as on Medusa, to patiently communicate with specters as a "Spirit Medium."
As a "Spirit Guide," he could directly control unclaimed or similarly powerful spectral entities.
Not only specters, but wraiths, even banshees.
As Adams approached the wraiths, he felt ice melt, flowing slowly.
He knew, from past experience, that he was gradually mastering the power the Black Emperor had granted him.
As he examined his own feelings, a piercing shriek sounded.
The "Spirit Guide" turned. A xenos specter, its body torn, bones exposed, wings ablaze, hurtled towards him.
A "banshee."
"Obey my command. Submit to my will," Adams said calmly, extending his spirituality.
The banshee slowed. Its vengeful eyes softened.
It landed before the "Spirit Guide," bowing submissively.
He continued forward. The "Gravediggers," their bodies utterly cold, walked on the outside. The "Corpse Collector" walked inside.
No wraiths attacked them. The spectral beings saw the black-armored warriors as fellow dead.
The "Spirit Guide" repeatedly recited "Words of the Dead," selecting banshees to subdue.
In the past, wraiths would have been acceptable targets. Now, he ignored them.
His spiritual energy drained rapidly, approaching depletion.
His face grew pale.
As his temples throbbed, his intuition stirred.
He followed the intuition, looking at the ruins ahead. A colossal creature, larger than a Titan, burst from the rubble.
The ground shook. The banshee, with ten thousand arms, some thick, like beasts', some slender, emerged.
Pale arms waved like branches. Thick and thin arms collided in intersecting areas, producing a series of dull thuds.
When it roared, it simultaneously produced piercing shrieks and beast-like howls.
Its massive form dove, swift as the wind.
An avalanche of palms sent hundreds of specters flying in an instant.
The "Spirit Guide" extended his spiritual energy. "Banshee, obey my command. Submit to my will."
The ten-thousand-armed banshee paused. Adams dove and rolled.
As his spiritual energy drained, the avalanche of palms slammed down.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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