As much as he railed against what was happening to him, he knew he could have expected no less. From here on out, Uriel was at the mercy of those who knew the threat of the daemonic better than he.

In the time since the Grey Knights had taken him, he had known only darkness. No sooner had Leodegarius hauled him from the rubble of the collapsed bar than a host of powerfully muscled servitors had closed in, carrying extendable poles that terminated in thick metal collars with inward pointing blades.

The restraint collars had fastened on his neck and Uriel knew that to resist would open his throat on the razor-sharp spikes. A robed acolyte had lifted a hood, fashioned from what appeared to be coarse sackcloth weave. Just before it had been fastened over his head, Uriel saw another Grey Knight with Pasanius similarly restrained before the open ramp of a silver Thunderhawk gunship.

The hood had been more than simply fabric, for it had utterly blocked Uriel's perception of the world around him. His five senses were rendered useless and he felt a curious deadness to everything, as though suddenly and completely cut off from the realm of perception.

He had been guided to the interior of the Thunderhawk and flown to the gaol that currently confined him. Uriel had no idea where he was, and what was to happen next was similarly a mystery.

Unkind hands had manacled him and then removed the perception-deadening hood before his skull had been shaved and he had been hauled from the ground and left suspended in the darkness.

A murmur of chanting drifted on the incense-scented air, a maddeningly constant refrain that lurked just beyond the range of comprehension. Uriel could see no source for the voices, but he could sense figures moving through the darkness, darkness so impenetrable that not even his genhanced sight could penetrate its depths.

He knew he was being observed and he had spoken aloud of his innocence and his loyalty to the Emperor, but they would have heard such things a hundred times or more, most often from the mouths of heretics and those who consorted with daemons. After a while, he gave up and concentrated on blocking out the pain in his shoulders.

His weight was pulling his arms from their sockets and the sinews were straining and twisting as he hung in the darkness. The metal of the silver manacles bit into the meat of his wrists and congealed blood clotted on his forearms.

Uriel heard heavy footsteps coming towards him through the darkness. A flaming torch sprang to life and the silver giant that had pulled him from the wreckage of the bar approached.

Firelight reflected from the burnished plates of his incredible armour, the vast plates indestructible and magnificent.

Terminators were warriors capable of awesome destruction, trained to be masters of the killing art and unstoppable human tanks. Astartes in Mk VII plate were well-armoured and retained their lethal speed, whereas a warrior clad in Terminator armour sacrificed that mobility for almost complete invulnerability.

As the Terminators of the Veteran company were above Uriel in skill and lethality, so too was this warrior above even them. To be in such a warrior's presence, even as a prisoner, was an honour.

Leodegarius had removed his helmet and Uriel saw that his face was finely sculpted and almost angelic in its symmetry. Silver eyebrows framed clear blue eyes and his white hair was pulled back in a short scalp lock. The warrior's physical perfection matched his assuredly perfect soul, and Uriel was put in mind of warriors from the Blood Angels Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, such, was his beauty.

A group of hooded acolytes followed Leodegarius, one reading from a heavy book supported on the back of a hunched dwarf with a golden lectern fused to its exposed spine, and another carrying a silver aquila, from which issued puffs of scented smoke. Others carried a variety of items on plush velvet cushions, some of which were clearly items of excruciation, while others were devices beyond Uriel's understanding.

Another Grey Knight, clad in gleaming silver power armour, stood at Leodegarius's shoulder and carried the awesome warrior's helmet. Behind him, a pair of sweating servitors dragged a smoking brazier, from which protruded a number of glowing irons.

Uriel felt the chains supporting him go slack and he descended to the floor. The loosening of the chains continued until he was able to lower his arms to his sides.

He rolled his shoulders to flex the muscles there and work the balls of his joints back into their sockets. None of his captors made any move to remove or loosen the manacles that still bound his wrists.

'Tell me why I should not kill you,' said the Grey Knight.

For a moment, Uriel was dumbfounded. The bluntness of the question was such that he had no immediate answer.

'I am a loyal servant of the Emperor,' he said at last.

'I have heard that before,' replied Leodegarius, his disbelief plain, 'so I am going to open you up and examine the farthest reaches of your soul. I will know everything about you, Uriel Ventris, and if I find you to be pure you may yet earn the Emperor's forgiveness, but if I find any hint of corruption or filthy secrets, your body will be purged with fire.'

'I understand,' said Uriel. 'I have nothing to hide.'

'A common declaration of the corrupted,' said Leodegarius. 'You would be surprised how many times I hear it from the mouths of those with a great deal to hide.'

'I am a servant of the Emperor,' repeated Uriel. 'I am not corrupt.'

'That is for me to decide,' said Leodegarius. 'Now be silent.'

Uriel nodded, fully aware that his life was in the hands of the warrior. With a gesture he could end him and erase him from the Imperium. All that he had ever done, all the heroic deeds he had accomplished in his life, would be expunged as surely as if he had never existed.

'State your name and rank,' said Leodegarius, 'for the record.'

'I am Uriel Ventris, former captain of the Fourth Company of the Ultramarines Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes.'

As Uriel spoke, a clattering stenolyte behind Leodegarius scrawled his words on a leaf of parchment, each of his fingers ending in an inky quill-tip. This would either be his vindication or his valediction.

Leodegarius nodded and reached out to twist Uriel's shoulder towards him. Uriel gritted his teeth, the bones of his shoulder twisting painfully in the socket.

'Your Chapter and company tattoos have been burned from your body.'

'Yes,' said Uriel. 'Our Chapter and company markings were removed before we left Macragge on a Death Oath. For all intents and purposes, we were exiled. It would not have been fitting to continue to bear our Chapter's heraldry.'

'Why were you sent on this Death Oath?' asked Leodegarius, and Uriel saw a servitor remove one of the irons in the fire with thick, insulated gloves. The brand was held out towards Leodegarius, but the Grey Knight ignored it for the time being.

'For breaking with the Codex Astartes.'

Leodegarius nodded, as though he was aware of this. Had Pasanius already been interrogated for this information?

Thinking of his friend, Uriel decided to risk a question of his own. 'Where is Pasanius?'

A silver gauntlet seized Uriel's throat and Leodegarius reached back to take hold of the glowing branding iron, its head in the shape of a haloed skull. With a fluid economy of motion he reversed the brand and stamped it down over the place where an Imperial aquila had once been tattooed on Uriel's shoulder.

Agonising pain coursed through Uriel's body as the red-hot iron seared his flesh. His knees buckled and he bit back a cry as Leodegarius kept the burning metal pressed against his skin. Smoke and the horrific smell of blackened, charred flesh filled the air. The pain was intense, but Uriel closed his eyes and focused his mind on blocking it out.