Chapter Content
The two of them left the brewery bulkheads and trekked down a series of auxiliary service pipes. They found a pitch-black corner, shielded from stray eyes and industrial noise. Kian flicked on a high-lumen tactical flashlight, propping it against a rusted pipe to provide a sterile, white pool of light.
He sat cross-legged on the cold plasteel floor. "Alright, Silentium. You've got the floor. How do I start pulling the threads?"
"First," the Psyker said, looking unusually serious. "Eat the Sanctified Ration. Both of us. The Beyond is a sea of sharks. If you intend to splash around in the water, you must first coat your soul in the Emperor's light, or the Never-born will see you as a feast."
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