The Psyker Saga

Inquisitor Agrimunt was too smart to bite on my sour tone. “Five, you speak out of turn.”

“Whose turn is it, if not mine?” I harbored the folly of youth, the rage of battle, and the cloying stale scent of blood. To me, it was a method more than a state of being.

A bolt pistol round at a point-blank range will ignore even the best body armor.

Five ignores the wishes of a commissar and deals with the consequences on the Imperial Guard's front lines.

A Fell Guard encounter on the front lines turns deadlier than anyone can imagine.

Place your bets.

Commissars and generals collide with a not-so-stable psyker in his first war.

A Blood cult rebellion awaits a fledgling psyker platoon—and a bitter war—if they can reach it.

Nothing was ever fair.

A test of psyker abilities—a rite of passage—takes a dark and ugly turn.

The Epilogue.

“Commissar Belling, are you ready to give it another go?”

Loose ends awaited within the halls of the Inquisition.

“I was told you would come,” another doorkeeper, Taura Kilhaven, greeted me among her botanical creations. The slap she applied to my face had its purpose and meant more to me than a hug or a handshake. “That is for Sam. She would never do it herself.”

“Why am I here?” Deep down, I knew the answer—I was pathetic and dead.

Paric lands on the edge of the Sea of Souls.