The world was a harsh contrast of black and white. Black above, white below.
Snow fell softly from the silk-black sky. It fluttered fancifully downwards, fluttering between the skeletal remains of the buildings that once made a city of men.
A figure watched from her rockcrete perch as the Dark Kin approached. Her name was Nymreneth, and she had come for battle. Without a sound she stepped out into empty sky, drawing her blade as she fell. Holding it backhand against her left arm, she swung out at a passing Wych upon a jetbike, and the air was filled with crimson droplets.
She rolled instinctively, watching as four more of her companions leapt from the shadows. They were Khaine's Blades, assassins without equal, and tonight they had come for Archon J'taat.
A second jetbike roared at Nymreneth from behind. With feline grace, the Eldar assassin leapt, firing a monomolecular shuriken from her wrist-launcher. The blade severed the jugular of its target, and the bike screamed off into a wall, blood droplets hanging in the air to show its passing.
There was a crash from another street. One of the Khaine's Blades had Haywired the Lord's Raider, and now battle was joined against him and his retinue. Nymreneth turned to join them, when her fighting instincts told her to dive. She obeyed, and narrowly escaped decapitation from a Mandrake. Rolling as she fell, a shuriken was launched up into her opponent's skull, causing blood and brain-matter to splurt from the exit wound. A second Mandrike lunged at her, but she was faster and slit his gut open. The third was more fortunate, driving a jagged blade down into her spine.
Her body felt hot, then cold. Her legs failed her, and Nymreneth collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the sky. Her killer stood gloating over her, and died when Nymreneth, with her dying breath, raised her hand and fired a bio-poisoned shuriken through his groin. She lay there, oblivious to the screams, fingertips softly stroking the falling snow, as everything turned to white.
