Sebastin's family hab-block had left much to be desired at the best of times, but that had been three days ago. Now his home was a smouldering ruin and in this ensuing hell-scape, the boy was alone. The blue glow of the local star had only just begun to rise over the tallest spires of the hive and the low light was dyed deep purple by the smoke of a thousand fires across 'The Pit'. Despite this the streets were cold and blustered with bitter-harsh wind. Shivering, he pulled the collar of his fathers coat up above his ears in a vain attempt to keep them warm. His father had been a brute of a man, short tempered and as tough as binnelope hide, but his bulk hadn't saved him. Now all Seb had left as a reminder was his battered coverall. It would soon be light and he hoped that would provide some comfort. He wasn't used to the cold on account of the fact he'd grown up in perpetual heat. He'd always presumed warmth came from the blue orb in the sky, but as each day passed, he began to realise that the heat and dank of the city came from the inhabitants themselves and the myriad of machinery they had operated. Now the city froze as the bodies pilled higher and higher and their machines fell silent. The coat dwarfed him, but it had proved more than useful. Hiding amongst rubble, his young frame had been camouflaged within the dust coated folds. It made him almost invisible to the hulking monstrosities that now roamed the Pit. It was the stuff on nightmares, especially for a boy of less than 12 orbital cycles. His Grandmother had shown him pict books as a child that kept him awake at night, much to the annoyance of his father. Stories that now paled in comparison to what he was seeing with his own eyes. Giant's in plate armour, some blighted and rotten, others gleaming and awe inspiring. If they weren't so interested in murdering each-other they may have spotted him. For that at least the boy was grateful. But there were others out there in the dust and chaos. He'd only seen glances and shadows of savage brutes and lithe phantoms. They may sniff him out soon enough. He had to find a way out for the city.

     The smell was dreadful, or at least it had been. Sebastin's nose had been long clogged with dust and debris. But he remembered the foul odour all the same. Putrid meat, voided bowels and burnt skin permeated all else. Sight was his last remaining ally and in the dull purple light of morning it proved little aid. The boy had been born deaf, so his eyesight proved better than most. But he'd always felt empty and cheated for his disability. He'd always longed to hear the sweat sound of music or the soft patter of rain on leaves, but now in the past few days he was grateful for the silence, though it brought him little comfort. He simply couldn't fathom the magnitude of noise that surrounded him. But that's not to say he couldn't feel anything. It had started as a dull ache in his chest, a vibration like bristling static that tickled the hairs on his neck. But now it was a deep rumble in his gut. Aside from his empty belly of course and a throbbing either side of his temples. The pain kept him awake and moving, all be it slowly. But it was still better than what had happened to the others. In the first few hours it has been the worst. Seb had been awoken quickly by his grandmother and rushed into the street where his father was waiting with his little sister Lilith, along with hundreds of other frightened civilians.

     'What's going on?' He'd signed lazily.

'Boom, Boom' his sister had signed back.

     Lilith was half his age but a fast learner and was the only one who bothered to sign to him and he appreciated it. Everyone else expected Sebastin to make do with lip reading. He wanted to ask more but never got the chance. The blast wave had hit them.

     Seb came to, to a sea of bodies rushing beneath him. Piles of men, women and children passing before his eyes. He'd been draped over his fathers shoulder and carried over the corpses. He couldn't see Lilith or his Grandmother following and judging by how fast his father was moving, he knew they were already dead. No man worth his salt would run from his family, unless they were already lost. His father was now desperately trying to save what was left. He felt so weak and his arms dangled loosely either side of his head. He wanted to wretch as bile filled his throat, but couldn't muster the strength. Instead he just drooled limply for what felt like hours. It wasn't until later when they had stopped to rest and his limited senses had started to return that he was first made aware of the sound. In the time before he'd become accustomed to the effects sound. He'd seen people wince at the sound of heavy load lifters as their pneumatic pistons fired off jets of steam. He'd also felt the air throb on his face as enormous speakerphones had barked litanies and oaths across the vast work-platforms his father had once toiled in. This sounds was nothing like that. His father was wearing a green blast-helm which he'd recognised as the same kind worn by the local PDF. He must have stolen it, along with a auto-pistol while Seb had been unconscious, normally that would have got him shot, but it mattered little now. The visor had been cracked and the mufflers had been packed with rages to block out the sound. Despite this blood still poured from his fathers ears, coating his neck and staining his vest. He was clearly off balance and his eyes were sore and weeping.

     'What's happening?' The boy signed.

"Screams"  his father mouthed courtly in reply, his pallid face contorting in pain as he did so.

     Seb was instantly reminded of his father spitting out several teeth earlier, and regretted asking. All the while in the back of his mind, he couldn't recall a time since the explosion when his father had been struck in a manner that could have dislodged them. What could have caused a man of only 40 cycles to loose so many teeth? and only over the course of a day? the boy wondered. Either way it must have been agony to speak and he quickly decided to stop asking questions all together, besides it was getting darker and they needed to find somewhere safe to camp-out for the night. An abandoned hab-block or a ruined manufactory may provide sufficient cover, but none in the local area we structurally sound and the best of the worst were already filled to the brim with the bodies of the slain. They were both exhausted, his father from fatigue and Seb from nausea. They drifted for hours, but sleep never came. That night the first of the landings began and the firefights came soon after. Still the screams persisted. The orbital batteries flared and died and still the screams persisted. The PDF fell and fled for their lives and still the screams persisted. Seb could tell they were eating away at the older man, already his father appeared to have aged more than twenty years. His skin was taught and stretched thin across his bones. His hair had become grey and brittle and his legs began to fail him. Most of his imposing bulk had now gone and soon he could no longer carry his son. They spent the next few hours hobbling through ruined buildings, collapsed walk-ways and battered defences. All frame of reference was gone and Seb was sure they were moving in circles, but he didn't have the heart to question his father now. With every hour that passed he could see the desperation rise in his father eyes, which now seeped with a mixture of blood and tears. He wanted to reach out to him, comfort him, protect him. But he couldn't. His fathers pride was too great and he knew any sign of pity would spark resentment in the older man. All he could do was watch in silence and pray the end would come soon.

     Later that night the boys prayers were answered, but by who or what he could not discern. The end came, but not as Seb had hoped. He couldn't be sure what would have been worse, the sound of the screams themselves or the agonised shriek of his beloved father as he flayed the flesh from his our face. The young boy couldn't help but blame himself, if only he'd taken matters into his own hands. It wouldn't have been too difficult to wrestle the pistol away from him in his frail state and end his suffering. But he'd been too afraid, too selfish. He didn't want to be left alone, but that mattered little now, his father was gone. Either driven mad by the delirious cacophony or moved to do so by some invisible force, he couldn't tell. It had happened some point in the night, lit by the dim glow of the burning hive, he watched his father stand and begin to remove his blast-helm. Seb thought he caught a name on his father lips.

"Morwinn" he mumbled silently.

     It was all Seb could make out in the ocherous gloom. It had been the name of Sebastin's mother. She had passed many years ago. Seeing what was happening Seb new he had no time to react, he couldn't stop him in time. Instead he began to sob. Threw his tears Seb saw the blooded helm fall and his father fell with it. Overcome by the onslaught on his mortal mind. He moved as if on fire, clutching at his skin and bellowing in agony. All the while Seb looked on in terror, while his fathers legs gave way and he landed in a heap of wriggling limbs among the rubble. His mouth gaped and distended until his jaw broke. His legs kicked and jerked until his feet were naught but blooded stumps and his eyes boggled and threatened to leap out of their sockets. It was only when his tattered hands began to tear at his face with broken nails, that his son mustered the strength to raise the auto-pistol and finally put his suffering to an end. He'd never used a gun before, but at such close range it made little difference, especially with a prone target. A single had shot rung out, the kick forcing the pistol from his limp hand and tumbling down to rest next to stolen blast-helm. The body stopped it's spasm, a gaping hole in its chest. His father was finally at rest.

     He didn't stay long after that, he couldn't be sure who or what had heard the discharge. Morbidly he hoped nothing still lived in the surrounding hell-scape to hear it, but equally that would mean he was alone which terrified him also. He carefully removed the tattered jacket from his father and had been amazed at how light his body had seemed. His father had once dwarfed Seb now his corpse felt almost hollow and ridged. It took very little effort to move and the skin crumbled like dry tree bark. He'd donned the coat quickly and fled as quickly as his malnourished body would allow. He'd regretted not paying the proper respects, as were his peoples custom, but figured it mattered little. The chances were he wouldn't survive much longer and no one would mourn his loss or any other for that matter. Now that he was finally alone, he felt the throbbing in his temples deepen, like a frag-drill on sulphur-rock, it threatened to crack his skull in two. Whatever had murdered his father, was clearly now turning it's attention to Sebastin. He had to find a way out of the Hive and soon.

     That had been two nights ago, and now it was early morning on the third day. He'd spent hours upon hours roaming the desolate streets and had found nourishment wherever he could. The people of Beta Chi 138 had been poor and the Imperium had found it difficult to house and feed 3 Billion lives across such a small geographical area, especially considering that more people had lived in the Hive than anywhere else on the planet combined. Most had taken to growing basic root vegetables in unsanctioned gardens across the vast roof systems of the city. Seb's grandmother had done the same, with some success, but the constant smog of the Hive had tainted the quality some what and the yields had been lower that needed. He'd managed to salvage some from a collapsed hab-block. Judging by the quality it had been neglected long before the chaos had started. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough and he found the strength to move on. His scrawny legs eventually brought him to a large clearing. Based on the outward facing direction of the neighbouring buildings it had been the site of a massive blast. The shock had stripped the paint from walls and shattered every pane of plasti-glass for what seemed like miles. The rubble jutted from the ground in successive waves, like ripples in a pond and each concentric disc comprised of finer and finer particles which blew about in the harsh wind which appeared to be emanating from the centre. He peered into the distance to try and make out what was causing the up-draft in the middle, but could only make out the faintest of movement through the dust. Seb was awe struck, he'd never seen such an expanse of empty space before, come to think of it, he'd never seen a buildings arranged in a circular formation before. All be it by demolition and not by design. 'The Pit' at one time had been renowned for its grid structure, 'A true marvel of Hive Planning' his father had once told him and Seb had been too young to sense the sarcastic undertones. It hurt to think of his father and the boy sobbed softly for a while on the edge of the blast radius. His tears forming clean runnels down his dust coated face. He sat on a rocky outcrop and took a short draft from a small discarded canteen. The previous owner no longer had need of it on account of them missing their head. The liquid was foul and burned his mouth and throat and the boy coughed loudly as he threw the metal flask to the ground with a clatter. It definitely hadn't been water and it made him gag, but after a few moments the warmth hit his belly and the pain in his throbbing head lessened. For the first time in an age Sebastin felt a little warmer, safer, which improved his mood a great deal, but he decided to not think of his father again. Not until, at least he was out of this place forever.

     He lingered for a moment and it wasn't long before he felt very light headed and nauseous. He decided to seek shelter nearby. He found it in the form of a large opulent building of bleached stone with marble crenelations. Judging by the design he surmised that it had been a place of some import in the time before, but now it had fallen ill to the same fate as the rest. He found himself at the end of a long corridor which opened out into a great granite hall. Round in shape, the halls beauty contrasted all else the boy had seen. It was the most beautiful site he'd ever seen, baas reliefs and torn banners adorned every surface, with pillars of darkest obsidian propping up a once perfect domed ceiling. At the centre of the hall was a large raised dais which sat a long angular table. The table and the surrounding chairs, of which there was at least a dozen, were all in varying states of decay but still Seb could make out there once proud visage. Deep stained wood, scarlet velvet and gold filigree, all adorned with jewels of emerald green. He didn't have time to soak it all in, he was tired and his head was swimming with a mixture of ethanol and sleep deprivation. He stooped and crawled through broken glass and tattered books to lay down under the shadow of the long table. Using a pile of discarded papers as a pillow the young boy finally rested his head and found sleep, for the first time in days.

     Sebastin was awoken by a blinding light and a rumbling that shook the ground he lay on. The table he sought shelter under had been flipped end on end and flung across the great hall like a twig. It and a number of chairs collapsed in a heap of broken limbs. Seb froze and pulled his fathers coat over his head to shelter his eyes from the bright light. The local star was directly above him and it cast pale blue light down through the ruined ceiling. The light bleached everything it touched and cast harsh shadows on the ground, some of them were moving. The boy was not alone. Seb could feel the  concussive force of gunfire being fired all around him, and the air bristled with the discharge of energy weapons. He risked a glance out across the dais, all he could see were the dancing shapes of shadows dodging this way and that, with the occasional flash of green or brilliant white. All the while there was the constant rumble of battle. He was terrified and it took all his strength just to not to empty his bladder. Soon the air fell still and Seb was aware of a large single shadow moving and heavy boots thundering towards him. Then everything went black. Seb knew he was under the cast of a grotesque beast. He'd caught glimpses of the marauding animals before. Barking, jostling brutes with thick hides and piercing red eyes, that cleaved their way through the streets, butchering and eating all in sight. They loved every moment of it too and killing one only spurred on the rest to great and greater heights of depravity. Seb realised his time had come, he thought of his lost family, of Lilith and of his home, one last time. But death didn't come. A firm kick to his stomach forced him into a roll and the boy skidded across the dais. Coughing in pain he got to his feet and didn't wait to look upon his attacker. Wheezing heavily he made to run but something strong caught him by the arm. Blindly he wheeled around with a clenched fist to strike at his attackers face but his tiny hand was met by the glove of a soldier as it caught his swing. With both arms barred, the boy kicked out striking an armoured leg. The boy shrieked as the shock threatened to shatter his shin.

    "Easy!" the soldier said, trying to keep his voice soft yet firm. "It's alright".

The boy didn't respond instead he slipped from his coat and made to run again, but a well timed boot to the back of the knee toppled him with ease and the boy was soon pinned to the ground.

     "Get off of me!" Seb screamed, not knowing if he'd formed the words correctly.

He felt the soldiers grip loosen and he was helped to his feet slowly.

     "Easy, lad" the soldier said calmly.

     Seb risked opening his and saw a man in his twenties standing before him. He was panting heavily and hadn't shaved in days, but he was smiling and handed Seb back his coat. The man was wearing a a gold embroidered purple dress coat and black breaches of fine making with beautiful silver armour that braced his forearms and lower legs. His breast was covered by a brilliant cuirass that clearly had seen better days, but it still shimmered like chrome in the harsh daylight. Seb's leg pained him, the soldiers armour was tough and he dreaded to think what this man had been through, to end up in such a state. The soldier wore no helmet, but Seb could tell by his matted brown hair that he'd been wearing one recently. In it's place he wore a white field bandage that stretched across his forehead and covered both his ears. and blood collected around a nasty downward gash near his right temple.

     "You alright? Sorry about the kick" the man said embarrassed.

Seb gave a curt nod in reply. The man seemed to be no immediate threat, but he was a still soldier and a stranger all the same. He had a fairly muscular physique and a war torn face, but he certainly wasn't savage green brute about to eat him. Seb thought it best to be cautious.

     "I'm Dessel, or Dez for short" he said placing his left palm on his chest. "what's your name lad?" he asked.

     Seb gave no reply, instead he put his coat back on and simply gestured to his ear and shook his head. Dez looked confused for a moment and then seemed to understand and gave a smile.

     "Me too" the soldier replied nodding. He also made the gesture of pointing to himself and then raising two fingers.

     'You're like me?' Seb signed proper in reply. The scowl on his face lifting slightly.

Dez looked lost, the sign language meant little to him. Be he figured he'd explain himself all the same.

     "Can't hear a bloody thing!" he yelled, enunciating exaggeratedly, which actually made lip reading more difficult for Seb, but the boy didn't want to interrupt. He was fascinated to meet someone like him.

     "There was an accident, haven't heard anything for days. Luckily...." Dez said knowingly.

'So you've heard them?' Seb mouthed in reply. Making easier signs and childlike gestures that were easy for older man to understand.

     Dez wasn't sure what he meant, but he figured he was referring to the 'signal' that had first brought he and his team to the surface.

     "Not directly" He explained. "Heard them over the Vox shortly before landing. That's when we got hit. Had to ditch and got rattled in the process" he made a mocking gesture of thumbing his head with his palm, it made Seb crack a slight smile.

     "After that the Doc fixed me up and haven't been able to hear since you see." he finished looking about him. Although deaf he certainly wasn't unaware of his surroundings.

     "You still haven't given me your name you know..." he said with a rye smile.

"Sebastin, Seb" the boy replied.

     "Well Seb, sorry to cut things short but I think it's time to move on. We shouldn't stay out in the open like this for long." He said turning towards the shaded side on the hall with a limp. He leaned over and picked up a long palladium sabre. He rose and with one fluid motion secured the weapon in it's scabbard against his hip.

     "More will be coming" he said taking a swig from a metal flask and inclining his head towards the far side of the hall. Several bodies lay beaten and bloodied there. Seb hadn't had time to take in his surroundings since meeting Dez and he looked over to the other side of the ruined dais. Not one of the armoured humanoid Xenos were in less than two pieces. His gut dropped, but before he could be sick, he saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye and felt a thud at his feet. He looked down to see a dented metal helmet. It was winged with dog ear'd sides and its was lined with dense brown fur with a plum of feathers that rested loosely back across the centre of the helm.

     "Welcome to the Callenata Hussars Sebastin!" Dez boomed and made for the exit.

The boy stood amazed, he no longer cared about the throbbing in his head or the pain in his leg he was just happy to not be alone. He scooped up the helmet and placed it on his head and followed the Hussar out of the hall.

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