with them indefinitely。 There would come a time when they’d have to accept that he was lost。
Myers and Storm lay down； and soon their heavy breaths joined the sleeping chorus around
Lorenzo。 He sat on a tree stump； left behind after Armstrong had unpacked a machete and made
firewood。 It was a little too small for him； and he was uncomfortable—but then comfort was hardly
desirable when the lives of your comrades depended on your staying alert。
Dougan knew that too； and he was circling the camp slowly。 His soft footsteps were barely
audible； but Lorenzo could tell that his artificial foot fell a little more heavily than the real one。
Dougan didn’t like to sit on duty。 He didn’t like to take the risk of his leg seizing up at a critical
moment。
It was about forty minutes later that Lorenzo saw the light。
He wasn’t sure what it was at first： a faint blue glow； somewhere between the trees； lasting just
an instant。 He couldn’t pinpoint its location； he had no idea how far away it had been。 He had been
sharpening his Catachan fang； but now he froze—and Dougan； though he was somewhere behind
Lorenzo on his latest circuit； picked up on his body language and did likewise。
It could have been a trick of the approaching dawn。 The sky was now a deep indigo。 But no；
there it was again。 Too soft； too muted to be a torch； it wasn’t the kind of light you could see by。
And yet too wide； too sustained to be an accidental glint off a weapon or a suit of powered armour。
Lorenzo grabbed for a stick； and brushed it across the embers of the fire； smothering them in
their own ashes。
The blue light was clearer to him now； but still maddeningly undefined； still seeming to lurk at
the edge of his vision； never quite in focus。 One second； it was at ground level； the next； it
glimmered through the branches at head height； and every time he moved his eyes to find it； it
slipped away from him。 Some sort of glowing creature； Lorenzo wondered？ What was that word
Brains had once used？ “Bioluminescence”。 He wondered if he should wake the others； but he
pictured their faces if he did and they found he’d been spooked by a swarm of fireflies。
Anyway； the light was coming no closer。
He watched it a moment longer。
It blinked out。
A second ago； there had been a wisp of smoke coiling up from the ashes of the campfire。 Now； it
was gone。 The sky was a little lighter—wasn’t it？ Lorenzo frowned； and crouched by the ashes。 He
touched them tentatively。 They were still warm； but cooler than they ought to have been。 His mind
was straggling to catch up with what his senses were telling him： that some minutes had passed
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without him knowing it。 It took some time for the message to get through—but when it finally did；
Lorenzo stiffened in horror。
The light had hypnotised him； dulled his mind。 Anything could have happened while he’d been
distracted。 Anything could have crept into the camp； and dragged his comrades away while they
slept。
There was something。 A shape at his shoulder。 Lorenzo whirled around； but it was only Dougan。
“It’s alright； son；” the veteran assured him in a whisper。 “We zoned out for a minute or two； that’s
all。 Everyone’s alright。”
“Old Hardhead said something；” Lorenzo recalled； “in the mess hall yesterday。” Why was it so
hard to remember？
“Something about… about ghosts。 Lights that lured Guardsmen into… ambushes； I guess。 I
didn’t realise… I didn’t feel it； but that thing must have got inside my head。”
Dougan nodded gravely。 “I’m going out there；” he announced。
“But—”
“We need to know what we’re facing。 Don’t worry。 We’ve seen what it does now； and we’ve
shaken it off once。 It won’t fool me again。 It’s just a question of focus。 It won’t even see me
coming。”
“You’re right。” Of course he was right。 Lorenzo wished he had realised it sooner； then he could
have been the one to volunteer； to have gone out there alone。 To have made a name for himself；
perhaps。 “I’ll come with you；” he offered。
Dougan shook his head。 “You need to stay here； watch the camp。 Could be this light’s meant to
lure us away while something worse creeps up from behind。”
“I can wake one of the others。”
“No need to panic them just yet。 It’s best I go alone。 You could be right about there being an
ambush。 Any trouble out there； I’ll shout a warning。 Then you can wake the others； and point them
in my direction。 I’m counting on you； Lorenzo。”
Lorenzo shook his head。 “I’m coming with you。”
Dougan laid a hand on his shoulder； and looked him right in the eye with an unnerving intensity。
“Let me do this；” he said。 “I need to do this！”
Lorenzo was left in no doubt that he did。 He nodded glumly； and Dougan smiled and clapped
him companionably on the arm。 Then he slipped away into the jungle； in the direction in which the
blue light had last been sighted。 After only a few seconds； Lorenzo could neither see nor hear him。
Why did Dougan need to do this？
He’d had his share of glory。 Why couldn’t he have let someone else have a taste of it； this once？
Why had Lorenzo accepted what he’d said？ Why hadn’t he spoken up； persuaded Dougan that his
need was greater？
He had picked up a stick—and as resentment welled in his chest like a living thing； he felt the
wood snapping in his clenched fist； driving a splinter into his palm。 How could he ever prove his
worth？
He pulled himself together； horrified by what he had been thinking。 He admired these men；
trusted them more than anyone or anything else。 He surveyed the sleeping bodies around him； tried
to remind himself of that—but that feeling in his chest was back； and he hated them； all of them； for
keeping him here。 He hated Old Hardhead Greiss and Hotshot Woods； hated Steel Toe Dougan most
of all。
The light was back。 Lorenzo noted its presence with a numb feeling of acceptance； because
somehow he knew it had been there all along。 It was brighter than before—and behind him； this
time。 In the opposite direction from the one in which Dougan had gone。 And closer。 Almost close
enough to touch； it seemed。 For a second； just a second； Lorenzo’s dulled mind grasped the idea that
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the blue light was fooling him； playing with his thoughts and feelings—but then that revelation
slipped away and was forgotten。
It might not have seen him； he thought。 It didn’t know he was here。 It probably thought he had
gone off with Dougan； fallen for its lure。 It probably thought it could move in now； for the kill—but
the light had underestimated him。
A few steps。 A few steps into the dark； that was all it would take。 Lorenzo could be the hero for
once； the man who had captured the light itself。
To his credit； he did hesitate。 He tore his eyes away from the light and shook his head to clear it。
He understood that the light had been clouding his thoughts； though he certainly didn’t appreciate
the extent of its influence。 He remembered what Dougan had said。 A question of focus。 So he
focused on what he knew； his comrades； and reassured himself with the knowledge that they were
real and tangible。 He tested his senses one by one； listening； breathing； feeling； and found each of
them as sharp as he remembered。
Then Lorenzo turned back to the blue light； and found it waiting。
He should have called out to Dougan； but he didn’t want to scare the light away。 He should have
woken the others； but the light made him think they would steal his glory。 He shouldn’t have
abandoned them； sleeping； helpless； relying on him to keep them safe； but it was only a few steps
and he was in control。
Just a few steps。
Then a few steps more。
The jungle closed around Lorenzo； but that was alright because he hadn’t come far。 He knew he
hadn’t come far； because he hadn’t reached the light yet； and he knew the light hadn’t moved。 He
knew that； if he looked back； he would still see the camp。 His comrades would hear him if he called。
Not that he was likely to call。 He didn’t need them。 In his mind； Lorenzo had left the jungle of
Rogar III for a different jungle altogether： that of his home world。 He was leading a group of
children—some of them his children； probably—on a hunt； and they were hanging on his every
word of advice； looking at him with awe in their eyes。 A man who had earned his name； and more。
One of Catachan’s greatest heroes； and yet still humble enough to spend time with them； to pass on
his wisdom。
Lorenzo pointed out a deadly spiker plant lurking in the foliage； and they gave it a wide berth。
He heard snuffling ahead； and he held up his hand for silence。 He crept forward； pushing aside the
vegetation with his las…gun。 There it was； in the centre of a small clearing； basking in the sunlight：
The most fearsome of his world’s predators； near legendary throughout the Imperium。 The beast
after which his own regiment had been named。 A Catachan Devil。
They were downwind of it； and it hadn’t scented them。 Lorenzo beckoned to the children to
come forward； to take a look at the beast。 They obeyed； and let out hushed gasps of fear and wonder。
Lorenzo recalled how； at their age； he had been afraid too； and he resolved to prove to them that
there was no need； that Man could always triumph over Nature。 If he was the right man。
At their age…
He laid his gun aside。 This would be a fair fight。 Lorenzo drew his knife—a devil claw； the
finest of all Catachan blades； over a metre in length—and he pounced。 The creature reared up on six
bristling legs； opened its mighty claws； and whipped its spiny tail around to sting him。 It was fast。
He had almost forgotten how fast。 Or perhaps it was just that he had slowed down with age。 How
old was he now； anyway？
He could still take it。
Lorenzo landed in the spot where the creature had been； his knife raised to strike。 But the Devil
was no longer there。 He whirled； disoriented； but saw no trace of it。 How could it have escaped from
him？ From… from… what was his earned name； anyway？ He felt confused； standing in that
clearing alone。 Confused and humiliated。 He thought he could hear the children laughing at him。
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Then Lorenzo glimpsed a spiny tail a short distance ahead of him； and he knew what had
happened。 The Catachan Devil had simply wandered away； in search of a better light。 A soft blue
light。 He could see it through the trees； and though he didn’t know what the light was； he didn’t
wonder。 The light was safe。 Everything made sense again。 Except…
How had he got so old？
Lorenzo knew what the children said about him behind his back。 They said he couldn’t be a hero
as he claimed； because he had survived the war when all the real heroes had died。 They called him a
coward； said he’d never taken a risk； never distinguished himself。 Never earned his name after all。
He could hear their taunts now。 He tried to blot them out； tried to focus on the creature in the blue
light ahead of him。 He couldn’t see it anymore； but he could see the light； and he approached it with
increasingly urgent steps。 In that light； he would prove them all wrong about him。 “I don’t know but
I’ve been told； Jungle Fighters don’t grow old…”
This wasn’t what Lorenzo wanted。
Even if it had been； he knew it was an impossible dream。 Few Jungle Fighters ended their days
like this； and h