‘Of course, it has ever been my honour and my blessing, Pieter,’ she replied. Taking a torch, Krysthenna led her faithful along the base of the wall and, as the road turned south alongside the canal, she followed it. The rain hissed from the surface of the waters. In the torchlight, thick mists rolled half-visible over the marshland to Krysthenna’s right. Behind her, Draconium hunched massively in the dark, its lights defiant.

‘Their defiance shall not long last,’ said Krysthenna, and if she was more smug than sorrowful in that moment could she truly be blamed? How many times had she tried to warn them? How many times had she been ignored, spat upon, shunned? Let them face the coming horror, she thought, for there were naught but sinners now left in her wake.

With her flock praying and chanting at her back, Krysthenna led the march towards the distant line of the dark forest. To her right, the mist continued to thicken, and she smelled something sour on the air as its tendrils began to creep onto the road. Truly, the corruption of the Mortal Realms was becoming all too apparent, she thought with disgust.

‘It is fortunate, is it not, that we are departing this ghastly place before damnation descends?’ she said, and several of her followers agreed effusively. Yet a glance showed Krysthenna that many eyes had turned to the thick fog bank now rolling in from the marsh, and nervous expressions were creeping over rain-slick faces as the grey-white vapour rolled like a smothering wave over the road and engulfed the procession of Chosen.

‘Steady your nerve, my Chosen,’ called Krysthenna. ‘We knew that this march would take us through lands overbrimming with damnation. Sigmar has tests for our courage and our fortitude yet, but keep your faith and you shall be saved.’

‘Lantern Bearer, where are you?’ came a muffled voice, floating from amidst the mists.

‘I am ahead of you, and my light leads the way!’ cried Krysthenna, shouting loud to ensure her flock could all hear. ‘Your torches are holy stars amongst these tainted mists, just as your souls are celestial lights amongst the tainted darkness of the realms! Follow the lights, hold tight to the Chosen at your fore and let the Chosen at your back take a hold of your garments. Watch the Chosen to your sides that they might not stray, and those beside the marsh, those beside the canal, stay a solid course! Azyr lies ahead!’

Affirmations floated back to her. Dark shapes moved in the fire-lit fog. Krysthenna pressed on, her pace slow but determined, the hands of her nearest followers gripping her threadbare robes.

Then came the first scream.