Malice stood at the centre of the courtyard, his gaze fixed on the burning horizon. The battle had been won, but it was only the beginning. Dushkrell would be the first world to fall, but it would not be the last. He tightened his grip on Ashkathar, the weapon still thrumming with the energy of the Rift. The hunger in his chest matched the weapon's. He would not stop until the galaxy itself knelt before him.

The day has come. Evil Itself has risen again, and the balance that has been built will be tested. The fate of the universe will lie not in the hands of Gods or Emperors, but in the hearts of Mortals.