C. Goto: Dawn of War

“They are gone, Gabriel,” said Prathios in soft, low tones. “You must think about the future now.”

Gabriel shrugged the hand from his shoulders and jumped to his feet, realising at last whose voice he had heard curdling around in his head. He strained his eyes against the firelight, staring over to the side of the funeral pyre, but there was nobody there. He spun on his heel, scanning the darkness around the assembly of kneeling Blood Ravens-nothing.

I knew that I was right about you, Captain Angelos, came the voice again, slipping into his mind and taunting him. The righteous are always the easiest to lead, especially the ignorant and the righteous.

“I know you now!” cried Gabriel, spinning on the spot and yelling into the night, as the smoke from the funeral pyre started to squirm and coil. The eddies began to curdle and mould into swimming shapes, hinting at a face in the firelight. Standing on top of the pyre was the immolated figure of man, his flesh blazing with flames and dripping down into the inferno below.

The face in the smoke resolved for an instant, and a low, cackling laugh echoed down the mountainside. It was the face of Mordecai Toth, frozen for a moment, but then whirled into a blur by a sudden gust of wind. Then it was gone, leaving only the distant echoes of laughter in the valley below.

“Knowledge is power, daemon! I know you now! I know your name and your form! You may have escaped the confines of Tartarus, but you will never escape me! With your freedom, you have guaranteed your annihilation!” yelled Gabriel, his voice dropping from a cry to a whisper as he muttered his silent vow.