The Dragon looped itself around the knight, clawing and biting at his armour and roaring in triumph. Then, as though the thought had come from the warrior, Dalia saw that, no matter how the Dragon writhed, it sought always to protect one place in its body, a place beneath its left wing.

'Strike, warrior, strike!' she urged.

As if hearing her words, the knight bent downward and lunged forward, thrusting his sword with a mighty bellow into the Dragon's body.

The creature gave out a deafening roar that shook stones from the city walls and the burning radiance in its breast was extinguished. Its grasp upon the knight loosened and the lightning faded from its eyes as the great beast fell to the ground.

Perceiving that the Dragon was helpless, though not dead, the knight untied the long white banner from his shattered lance and bound it around the neck of the monster.

With the Dragon subdued, the knight turned to the astounded handmaidens and the people of the city, who streamed from its gates in a riot of adulation. The knight raised a hand to quiet them, and such was his presence and radiance that all who beheld him fell silent.

'The Dragon is defeated!' cried the warrior. 'But it is beyond even my power to destroy, so I shall drag it in fetters from this place and bind it deep in the darkness, where it will remain until the end of all things.'

So saying, the knight rode off with the Dragon bound behind him, leaving the scene behind him as immobile as a painting.

The image of the city and the desert were frozen in time, and Dalia turned to Semyon. 'Is that all of it?'

'It's all the Dragon remembers of it, yes,' said Semyon. 'Or at least a version of its memories. It's hard to tell what's real and what's not sometimes. I listen to its impotent roars of hatred as it watches from its gaol on Mars and write what comes out, the Emperor ''slaying'' the Dragon of Mars… the grand lie of the red planet and the truth that would shake the galaxy if it were known. But truth, as are all things, is a moving target. What of this is real and what is fantasy… well, who can tell?'

Dalia looked towards the horizon over which the knight had vanished. 'Then that was?'

'The Emperor? Yes,' said Semyon, turning and walking away as the reality of the desert landscape began to unweave. 'He brought the defeated Dragon to Mars and bound it beneath the Noctis Labyrinthus.'

'But why?'

'The Emperor sees things we do not,' said Semyon. 'He knows the future and he guides us towards it. A nudge here, seeding a prepared prophecy of his coming there, the beginnings of the transhumanist movement, the push from humanity's understanding of science to its mastery… all of it by his design, working towards one glorious union in the future where the forges of Mars would perceive the Emperor as the divinity for whom they had been waiting for centuries.'

'You mean the Emperor orchestrated the evolution of the Mechanicum?'

'Of course,' said Semyon. 'He knew that one day he would need such a mighty organisation to serve him, and from the Dragon's dreams came the first machines of the priests of Mars. Without the Dragon there would have been no Mechanicum, and without the Mechanicum, the Emperor's grand dream of a united galaxy for Humanity would have withered on the vine.'

Dalia tried to grasp the unimaginable scale of the Emperor's designs, the clarity of a vision that could set schemes in motion that would not come to fruition for over twenty thousand years. It was simply staggering that anyone, even the Emperor, could have so carefully and precisely orchestrated the destiny of so many with such skill and cold ruthlessness.

The scale of the deception was beyond measure and the callousness of it took her breath away. To lie to so many people, to twist the destiny of a planet to suit one man's aims, even a being as lofty as the Emperor, was a crime of such monstrous proportions that Dalia's mind shied away from that awful calumny.

'If the truth of this became known,' breathed Dalia. 'It would tear the Mechanicum apart.'

Semyon shook his head as the last vestiges of the sands of Libya faded away to be replaced with darkness all around them. 'Not just the Mechanicum, but the Imperium too,' he said. 'I know this knowledge is a terrible burden to bear, but the Treaty of Olympus bound the fates of both Throne and Forge together in a union that must never be undone. Neither can survive without the other, but should this become known, then those who hold truth sacred above all else will not see that, they will only see the righteousness of their cause. In any case, the Mechanicum is already tearing itself apart, but the horrors unleashed by the Warmaster's betrayal will be as nothing if Mars and Terra make war upon one another.'

Semyon fixed Dalia with a gaze of such pity that she shuddered. 'But it is the duty of the Guardians of the Dragon, souls chosen by the Emperor, to ensure that such a thing does not happen.'

'You keep the Dragon bound?' asked Dalia as she began to perceive faint outlines of her surroundings reestablishing themselves.

'No, the Dragon is bound by chains far stronger than one such as I could devise. The Guardians simply maintain what the Emperor wrought,' explained Semyon. 'He knew that one day the Dragon's lost children would seek its resting place and we are here to ensure that they do not find it.'

'You said ''we'', but I'm no Guardian,' said Dalia warily.

'You have not guessed why your every footstep has brought you to this place, girl?'

'No,' hissed Dalia as Semyon reached out and took her hands.

At the moment of contact, Dalia gasped in pain as the world around her returned, and she found herself once again standing at the lectern in the vast cave of silver.

She tried to pull her hands away, but Semyon's grip was unbreakable. Looking into his eyes, she saw the weight of a thousand years and more in those depthless pools, a duty and honour that was like nothing else in the galaxy.

'I am sorry,' said Semyon, 'but my span, though much extended, is now over.'

'No.'

'Yes, Dalia, you must fulfil your destiny and become the Guardian of the Dragon.'

Dalia felt the heat in Semyon's hands spread into her flesh, a golden radiance that filled her with unimaginable wellbeing. She wanted to cry out in ecstasy as she felt every decaying fibre in her body surge with a new lease of life, every withered cell and every portion of her flesh blooming as a power undreamed of filled her.

Her body was reborn, filled with a sliver of the power and knowledge of a world's most singular individual, power and knowledge that had been passed down from Guardian to Guardian over the millennia, a burden and an honour in one unasked for gift. With that knowledge, her anger at the Emperor's deception was swept away as she saw the ultimate, horrifying fate of the human race bereft of his guidance.

She saw his single-minded, pitiless drive to steer his entire race along a narrow path of survival only he could see, a life that allowed no love, few friends and an eternity of sacrifice.

Dalia wanted to scream, feeling the power threaten to consume her, the awesome ferocity of it almost burning away all the things that made her who she was. She fought to hold onto her identity, but she was the last leaf on a dying tree and she felt her memories and sense of self subsumed into the fate the Emperor had decreed for her.

At last the roaring power within her was spent, its work to remould her form complete, and she let out a great, shuddering breath as she realised she was still herself.

She was still Dalia Cythera, but so much more as well. Semyon released her hands and stepped away from her with a look of contented release upon his face. 'Goodbye, Dalia,' said Semyon.