Synopsis:

Baran is the last surviving soldier of a Planetary Defence Force squad on a hive world that has been overwhelmed by a Chaos invasion. As he considers the hopelessness of his situation and contemplates his own death, he meets Sol, an Adeptus Custode who is on a mission of her own to recover a valuable item from the Archenemy. Together they battle back towards their own lines through increasingly fierce Chaos attacks. When it seems that even Sol might fall, Baran learns about her true mission and how it is tied to his own special fate.

Extract:

They stepped through the entrance on to a wide blocky platform that was surrounded on three sides by a sheer drop that fell into a hellish abyss. Below them, far below, was the source of the incredible heat, a molten lake of magma that lit everything with a flickering red glow from underneath.

The room itself was split into two halves by this yawning chasm. In front of them a sturdy metal walkway crossed the fiery gap to a similar platform on the other side. A doorway in the opposite wall beckoned him onwards with a promise of salvation. Gigantic fans beat incessantly overhead, taking the heat and drawing it up ventilation shafts that rose for miles into the hive.

Perspiration ran down Baran’s face, and his back was slick with sweat. The air was hot and oppressive, and he could only take short shallow breaths. To inhale any more deeply would be to risk scorching his lungs.

The Custode seemed to suffer no ill effects from the heat as far as he could tell. She moved with the same implacable purpose and surefootedness as she had always done, despite being wounded far more seriously than Baran had first realised.

It was not until she had turned around had he seen the wound that pushed deep into her back. An ugly gouge was torn in her armour, and it revealed a mass of congealed blood and flesh beneath the golden plates. Yet even now the blood had stopped pouring out of it, and Sol moved as if the blow had never been struck.

Sol.

Not so long ago he had been dumbfounded to be in her presence, and now he was on first name terms with a demi-god. He smiled.

“What do we do now?” he asked. He rested his las gun on his shoulder and pointed to the walkway in front of them.  “Get across that and then cut it behind us?”

Sol did not answer. Instead, the Custode scanned the room and seemed to be measuring out the size of the platform. She then nodded to herself and turned to Baran.

“This is where we part ways,” she said with a tone of finality.

He was shocked. His earlier confidence evaporated.

“What? What do you mean?”

Was the Custode going to leave him behind? Was she going to run on without him? He couldn’t survive down here alone. To leave the Custode’s side was to die.

“Am… am I slowing you down?”

Sol shook her head. “No, Trooper Baran. Quite the reverse in fact. My presence is detrimental to your survival.”

Baran stared at the Custode’s impassive face plate, unable to comprehend. Sol kept speaking. 

“The enemy is targeting me. This much should be clear by now. The levels of threat are escalating, and it is my belief that soon they will send warriors of such magnitude that just to be in my vicinity will be your death.”

Sol paused and then continued.

“It may even be mine.”