Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

With the death of the traitor Governor, the remaining Renegades soon fell into disarray. In the two weeks following the conquest of the capital, Inquisitor Alastor Drakonis, with the assistance of the Oathkeeper, began the process of filtering the population and distinguishing between those who had bent their knee to the abominable Gods and those that had stayed true to the Imperium. Tens of thousands of trials were conducted on the spot and countless heretics fell when Alastor gave the nod and the Storm Troopers unleashed the Emperor's cleansing fire.

The taint of heresy on this world remains strong, however. Grandmaster Lucas has been unrelenting, pursuing the great daemon that fled the governor's palace. Isaiah has told me that a core of die-hard traitorous Guardsmen has also rallied around one of the Ex-Governor's trusted lieutenants in the wastelands to the south east. And in the southern continent, the Chaos Marines lie in waiting behind their formidable entrenchments. All scouts and land speeders sent to probe their defences have not returned.

Julian lies dead, but much work is left to be done.

Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

Betrayal. Our Thunderhawk was en route to the east when we were struck by ground-based lascannon fire. We were expected. The sky began to twist with foul energies and Furies appeared, swarming and throwing themselves into our hull. "Get us out of here!" I heard Alastor shouting amidst the explosions, though soon our craft was lurching towards the ground. I made my peace with the Emperor and watched the ground rush up to us. But the Emperor is merciful. At the very last moment, our Machine Spirit made a last effort. The engine fired as we crashed to earth. I was thrown across the room and felt an arm break. But though the disaster met us, we were not broken.

"Damage report!" Alastor yelled.

"Our hull integrity is lost," the helmsman reported, climbing "The Machine Spirit is wounded, though the Tech Priests believe him not dead. Casualty reports coming from all over the ship... fifty dead, mainly from our Storm Trooper compliment. I've already sent out a distress call, but there's..."

"Sir, the Furies are coming again!"

I looked out the viewscreen and saw them. Two dozen of the beasts flew in a v formation. I am ashamed to admit that I cried out. A heavy bolter began to fire to defend us, but there were far too many... death would not be cheated of us. I looked to the Inquisitor, who was clasping his fist in silent prayer. Then, with a flash of light, they came. Storm bolters scythed through the air and the Furies screamed.

A communication channel was opened. "Inquisitor Drakonis? Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Justicar," he answered, "But this is not over. Where are your fellows?"

"We are mustering what we can," the Grey Knight answered, "A local Imperial garrison conducting cleansing operations in your name has already dispatched reinforcement. Grandmaster Lucas has also been informed. We shall defend you from the daemons while you conduct repairs to your vessel."

The Inquisitor was silent for a moment, looking out the viewscreen and into the distance. Before the Emperor, I do swear that for a brief moment, I saw him shudder. "The daemons may perhaps be the least of your concerns, Justicar."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh sweet justice... He's here."

"Who is here?"

"My old friend and fellow," Alastor answered, "Zharesh is here."