At last he dropped to one knee, his fist a millimetre from the ground and released a pent up breath. Uriel stood and ran his hands across his skull, the feel of the brisdes unfamiliar, but welcome.

'Light,' said a voice in the darkness and Uriel shielded his eyes as blue fire sprang to life around him. His eyes quickly adjusted to the light and he saw that he was surrounded by a host of silver-armoured warriors. Each warrior carried a tall polearm, the blades sheathed in a haze of energies that were the source of the blue fire.

Twenty-five Grey Knights stood to attention in a circle around him, the plates of their gleaming armour flickering with a shimmering blue-steel glow. Leode-. garius marched from the circle of warriors. The leader of the Grey Knights had stripped from his armour and wore a loose-fitting chiton of white, a training uniform similar to that worn by the Ultramarines when not in armour.

'You have put your time to good use, Uriel Ventris,' he said.

'Time spent not honing my skills is wasted time,' replied Uriel.

'Just so,' agreed Leodegarius. 'It has been three days. Let me see your hand.'

Uriel had all but forgotten the pain of his wounded hand, but nodded and lifted it towards Leodegarius without breaking eye contact. A chirurgeon followed the Grey Knight, hissing pipes and gurgling tubes looping from beneath his robes. A brass armature emerged from the chirurgeon's sleeve, bearing a clicking device similar to an Apothecary's narthecium. The device extended towards Uriel's hand, bathing it in a golden glow that felt like warm honey was being poured over his skin.

The light vanished and the chirurgeon nodded to Leodegarius before backing away.

Uriel looked down at his hand and was amazed to see that virtually all trace of the horrific wounding was gone. The flesh was pink and new, raw and tender to be sure, but unmistakably whole once more.

Leodegarius reached out and turned over Uriel's hand, carefully inspecting the flesh. Uriel could tell that the Grey Knight was pleased by what he saw.

'The flesh heals well,' said Leodegarius. 'I do not believe I have ever seen anyone recover from the Ordeal of the Oils as quickly as this.'

'Then, we are ready to fight?' asked Uriel, stepping back.

'You sound eager,' said Leodegarius.

'I am,' replied Uriel, 'not to fight you, but to prove myself.'

Leodegarius nodded. 'I understand,' he said, turning away, 'but we will not be fighting here.'

'Where will we be fighting?'

'Where all can see the Emperor's judgement upon you,' said leodegarius. 'Follow me.'

Uriel set off after Leodegarius as the Grey Knight led him from his place of confinement. An arched tunnel of dressed ashlar led through what Uriel guessed was the bedrock of the palace. Their route twisted through ancient tunnels, cut in ages past, and adapted by the later builders of the palace.

Rough-hewn tunnels became iron-framed corridors before blending into ceramic-walled chambers with high domes and glaring lights. There appeared to be no sense of order to the subterranean architecture, with passages meandering off at odd angles and the same tunnels returning after too short a time to have led to anything useful.

The Grey Knights marched in perfect step, their pace unhurried, but covering the distance with a kilometre-eating stride. A detachment of warriors went before Uriel, nine behind him and the remainder at his sides. Leodegarius led them and a host of censer bearing acolytes created a living fogbank that moved ahead of their procession.

Storerooms, forgotten chambers, armouries and barracks passed and as they entered a low corridor, Uriel heard a number of voices raised in agitation coming from somewhere ahead.

The tunnel opened up into a wide, circular space with a high ceiling and a grey drum tower in the centre of the chamber. The walls were lined with cells that all faced the circular building and Uriel instinctively recognised this place as a kind of prison.

'It is a Panopticon,' said Leodegarius, guessing Uriel's thoughts. 'Guards are positioned in the building at the centre and the prisoners have no way of knowing when they are being watched, because they cannot see inside. They have no way to avoid being seen, so must control their baser impulses lest they suffer punishment.'

'So fear of retribution, not devotion to the Emperor ensures obedience?'

'Just so,' agreed Leodegarius with distaste. 'Something that might very well be said for this entire planet.'

'Why are we here?' asked Uriel.

'To gather your companion.'

'Pasanius?'

'Yes, he has been kept here since he too passed through the ordeals.'

'He's going to fight you too?'

'He will fight alongside you,' nodded Leodegarius, crossing the chamber to stand before a cell where the welcome sight of Pasanius greeted Uriel.

His friend was unbowed and Uriel saw that his remaining hand was as raw and pink as his own, but clearly healed from its immersion in the boiling oils.

'Uriel!' cried Pasanius, his relief obvious. 'Your hand?'

'Almost as good as yours,' said Uriel as the door slid open and Pasanius stepped from the cell. The two warriors embraced, relieved beyond words to find each other alive, and Uriel released his friend from a crushing bear hug.

'Are you ready for this?' asked Uriel.

'You're damn right I'm ready for this,' said Pasanius, angling his head towards Leodegarius. 'No disrespect intended, but these bastards questioned our loyalty. I'm ready for whatever it takes to prove we're not traitors.'

'Your sergeant has been fiercely loyal to you, Captain Ventris,' said Leodegarius, and Uriel couldn't help but notice that his name had now been prefixed by his rank. That had to be a good sign.

'He is my friend,' said Uriel, 'and that is what friends do.'

Leodegarius turned towards the chamber's exit, a tall arch of black stone that led upwards.

'Then let us hope that is enough.'

Flanked by the Grey Knights, Uriel and Pasanius followed them through another series of winding tunnels that eventually opened up to a fortified gateway lined with gunports and which ended at a tall bronze gate.

The gate was open, daylight streaming inside, and Uriel remembered his joy at seeing true light when they had arrived on Salinas. The feeling of being outside again after so long, although it had only been for a few days at most, was sublime and as he marched down a sloping causeway, he was filled with a sense of hope.

That hope was snatched away as soon as he set foot outside and felt the crushing weight of gloom that filled his lungs with each breath. The air was leaden and heavy, the sky pressing down like a monstrous weight upon the day. Threatening clouds scudded above and Uriel was filled with a dreadful sense of melancholy that put him in mind of the ruins of Khaturian.

Once again, he and Pasanius were in the vast flat space where Restoration Day had been declared. The inhospitable parade ground was filled with at least two hundred soldiers and a tight knot of the planet's dignitaries.

A gleaming silver Thunderhawk gunship sat with its assault ramp open behind the dignitaries and Uriel smiled at the sight of such a reassuringly familiar object. Even though the gunship was not in the colours of the Ultramarines, the potent symbol of the power of the Adeptus Astartes lifted Uriel's spirits from the ugly atmosphere saturating the day.

Uriel saw the tower of the Janiceps at the far end of the space and on his right was the decrepit, yet wondrous, Gallery of Antiquities. Craning his neck over his shoulder, he saw the high towers and bleak spires of the Imperial palace.

'Never liked this place,' said Pasanius. 'Now I like it even less.'

'We are to fight here?' Uriel asked Leodegarius. 'What has happened to this place? It feels… dead.'