Shadows of the Changeling

Chapter 1: The Beast and the Rose

The building was barely standing, its walls cracked and stained, the flickering lights casting a sickly glow on the chipped paint and mold-speckled floorboards. Inquisitor Elara Valenhurst lifted her skirts delicately, her nose crinkling at the damp smell of rot that permeated the air. The noblewoman had seen many unsavory places in her line of work, but nothing quite so… rustic. She muttered a quick, silent prayer as she took a step forward, resisting the urge to brush off her robes after each step.

“This can’t possibly be right,” she murmured, glancing at the parchment in her hand. Her mentor’s seal gleamed at the top, a final command, urging her forward.

She had been given her orders—a pairing with an Inquisitor of “unusual skill” for the purpose of rooting out a Changeling in the hive’s lower sectors. It was beneath her, and she knew it. She had barely been able to contain her outrage when she realized her partner was not only an abhuman but a beastman.

Elara stopped at the threshold of the apartment, steeling herself. She raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open before her knuckles could touch it.

The figure standing inside filled the doorway. Broad, towering, and heavily muscled, he looked like something conjured from nightmares. Thick, flat horns—somewhere between a moose’s and a goat’s—jutted from his brow, ending in leaf-shaped prongs. His skin was scarred and rugged, with deep red eyes sunk back in his skull, glowering at her with an intensity that could almost be mistaken for disdain.

“You reek of the Warp,” he said, voice as rough as gravel. “Though you don’t smell like our target.”

Elara stiffened, her jaw clenching at the crude greeting. “And you, Kel'Acthar, reek of…” She hesitated, struggling for a word suitable enough to encompass her disdain. “Animal.”

A flicker of amusement passed across his face, though he made no response. Instead, he stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. She did so with all the grace she could muster, moving past him and into the dimly lit room.

The apartment was sparse, with only the barest necessities—a small cot, a single chair, and a cluttered table covered in makeshift weapons and crude equipment. Kel'Acthar followed her in, closing the door with a solid thud that made her stiffen.

“I don’t suppose you have any tea,” she said icily.

Kel'Acthar raised an eyebrow, the edges of his mouth twitching slightly. “Not exactly in my budget,” he replied. “If you wanted comforts, you could’ve stayed in the upper hive. Plenty of perfumed nobles up there.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I am here under orders, not for pleasure.”

“And so am I,” he replied, shrugging as he sat on the lone chair, gesturing for her to take the cot. When she remained standing, he continued, “So, let’s get one thing clear. We’re not going to be able to find this Changeling by lording over the locals and acting like we’re better than them.”

“Because I am better than them,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “I am an Inquisitor of noble birth, trained to carry out the Emperor’s will. Unlike some…”

Kel'Acthar snorted, folding his hands. “Nobility doesn’t mean much down here. If anything, it’ll make you a target.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he leaned forward, his tone growing serious. “These underhive gangs? They eat people like you alive. You stand out. They’ll notice every gesture, every look, every sniff you make.” He tilted his head, his red eyes narrowing. “You want to succeed down here? You’ll follow my lead.”

She took a slow breath, biting back the retort she wanted to hurl. She had no choice; her mentor had made that clear. But this—this was a humiliation, a test that went against everything she had been taught.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Tell me your plan, then.”

Kel'Acthar’s lips curved in a faint, sardonic smile. “Simple. We go in as gangers. You’ll be my ‘accessory.’”

“Accessory?” she echoed, appalled.

He shrugged. “You want to avoid notice? Stick by my side, play along. They’ll be too scared of me to question anything else. We need information, not attention.”

Elara’s face twisted in disgust. She could feel the fury simmering beneath her skin, but she forced herself to stay composed. Her mentor’s words echoed in her mind, a reminder that she had been assigned to learn. To endure.

“Very well,” she said, barely concealing her distaste. “I shall… play the part.” The words tasted bitter, but she’d said them nonetheless.

Kel'Acthar rose from his chair, moving to the table and picking up two knuckle dusters—Truth and Cull, each bearing the symbol of the Imperial Aquila. He glanced at her, his gaze assessing. “We’ll move in an hour. Dress the part,” he added, gesturing to her Inquisitorial robes with a smirk.

Elara swallowed her pride, her face hardening. “I will be ready,” she said coldly, turning and leaving the apartment, her spine as rigid as steel.

As the door closed behind her, Kel'Acthar let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. He would give her credit—she hadn’t backed down. Yet. He’d seen enough haughty nobles crumple under the weight of reality, but perhaps this one had the backbone to last. Only time would tell.