The problem with these tunnels is that Azrael can't tell what's a normal tunnel and what's going to lead somewhere else. But this one doesn't seem to be crowded with the bodies of necrons, and he supposes he can handle that. He had meant to sleep, but now he feels he must go deeper. And it leads him from a cave to the open lands of his youth, though eerily empty. He's on the edge of the village now, the buildings visible but dark through the trees. If he walks a few steps further, he knows what he'd reach, even if it's been hundreds of years since he's been here.

Maligness, the feudal planet of his birth, on the very edge of the Imperium. Though he knew nothing of medieval Europe, his childhood would have resembled such a thing before the tithe ships came. The only differences are in the plantlife and the occasional two-headed eagle emblazoned on a signpost. Signs of the humans are all around. He even stands on one of their roads. Past the alien plants he goes, knowing what awaits ahead of him.

The gallows.

Burning witches is a stereotype, built on an outdated ideology. No, the only witches that the Black Ships don't take are hung here. He stares up at them, noting that they're empty. Only the nooses know the secrets of what psykers had gone to their deaths. The golden wolf pauses, then leans back on his haunches.

More every year. The Black Ships couldn't take them all.

And yet, here he sits, all alone. He wonders if he waits long enough, he'll see the ships in the sky.