Lazaros stood behind a large table. On the table was a deck of the Emperor's tarot. Save a few candles the room was bare and empty. With watch captains and librarians watching from a carefully disguised window at their subject. Lazaros starred hard at the deck for many minutes befor epicking it up gingerly and shuffling the deck before drawing the necessary cards and slowly placing them face down and putting the rest of the deck to the side. 

He slowly flipped the cards face up, one by one. Each revealing a painstakingly crafted image to reveal at least in the short term, his future. When he flipped up the last card he raised an eyebrow and several other people behind the glass did as well. Auguries were always onimous and in this day and age usually forboding. And this was no exception. He had seen draws like this before. From the many forces that ravaged his home system. 

Arcs of Lightning shot out from the Librarium's finger tips to strike the chest of a servitor. The machine to its credit was built with durability in mind, that and Lazaros was both not using his power to his fullest potential. And his nullifier was only allowing him so much leeway for him to exercise his abilities. So there was no fear of drawing anything hateful and overly ganerous from the warp. 

And practising his abilities was far preferable to the tedium of the Gymnasium he was working for the past however many days. Combat drills, marksmanship practice, and Physical endurance tests that reminded him of those days wehn he was still a young scout or newly inducted battle brother. Many of those drills were put on hold when he became a librarian. He still trained as his brothers trained but keeping the records and sharpening his mind became the new key focus. 

The servitor did not stutter or short out. Instead it simply righted itself and stood its ground as if preparing for another attack to be made against it. 

Soon a calm voice could be heard coming from a carefully disguised speaker. The room was completely featureless. Similar to the one he performed the Augury in. For all he knew it was the same room. No colour on the walls, no glass, seems, pannels. Not even the cracks of the door were visible. It was designed to throw a man off mentally and give the impression that one was completely at the mercy of the owner of the voice with no discernable way to leave. 

It was the perfect controlled environment. He had no doubt the room could be flooded with fluids and gases that could even suffocate a space marine within moments. And the inquisition are not the tpyes to hesitate to use such power. 

“Again. Use More power this time. Destroy the machine.” the voice said. Lazaros sighed and looked over at the singed abomination of machine and flesh. He squared off against his motionless opponent. There was nothing to do but give the demonstration he knew they wanted. They wouldn't be satisifed until he proved he could control the perils of the warp. 

He took a deep breath and focused his mind. He could feel the implant's control over his mind receding and allowing him to draw more upon the strength of his mind. It did not give him complete and total control. But significantly more which was still a comforting feeling. His hand clenched into a claw like grip around the stale, recycled air filling the room. His eyes took an a slight glow as he brought complete and unfettered power to bear upon the helpless servitor. Where it was a few measly bolts of lightning before his hand positivly cackled to life as the strands of lightning burst forth and consumed the servitor. The weaker blast may have only singed its outer layers but now it was sparking and convulsing as both the biological nerves and the wiring of the machine were trying to outcompete eachother is a display of rampant twitching. Within a few moments the electricity in the air dissipated and the servitor was left to twitch and convulse on the ground.

There was no confirmation or congragulations from the voice. There was just silence for many seconds while his nullifying implant once more overwhelmed his mind and he felt as if his brain itself was being pulled from his skull. before the near invisible door in the wall opened and he was uncerimonously told to return to his cell. 

Sometime and an unknown amount of days later Lazaros found himself being ushered into yet another featureless room. He was handed only a combat knife, which at least gave him some form of warning as to what it was that awaited him. All he knew was that his implant, while not completely letting his powers loose. Was allowing him to bring some of his energy to bear. Enough to form a defense and a weaker if not moderatly powerful attack. Or a defense against an opponents psykic blasts. 

Suprisingly the eldar that was already in the cell was simply sitting and meditating in the middle of the cell. If the fact he was a prisoner and most certianly scheduled for a quick but brutal death even if Lazarus should not walk out of the chamber alive, he did not show it. And to an extent Lazaros had to admire that, grace and poise even in the end. Well he would admire it if it wasn't coming from a xeno that is. 

“So you are my executioner?” the voice was soft and melodic. But undeniably xeno as he reminded himself firmly. These were the same eldar who tried to sacrifice his home sector just to save one of their worthless craftworlds. Still he was surprised it new Imperial Gothic, High Gothic at that. “You seem far shorter than the other mon'keigh who put me here.” he was attempting to goad Lazarus, But if a few short jokes were enough to throw him into a frenzy he would have died years ago. 

He in turn did not dignify the creature with a response. He simply walked forward with his knife in hand. He knew from experience his odds of sneaking up on the creature were non-existant. Even without his armour he was sure it could hear him approaching. 

The creature dodged the first attack that was thrust his way. Not overly suprising, Eldar were quick bastards even at the best of times. He adopted a much more defensive action after that attack. Knowing he may not out-compete the creature in a contest of speed he decided to weather whatever attempts it made towards him until the time was right. 

Indeed as the Eldar moved in for the first strike he summoned what psykic energy he could to blast outward with a fairly weakened but still substantial blast with his mind. His attack was more a reaction than anything else was was not at his greatest levels of power but it still sent the Eldar crashing back into the wall. Whatever it was expecting in its opponent it probably wasn't a psyker. 

As he charged forward he saw the being pick itself up, dazed but still very much alive. “Stubborn bastard” he breathed and stepped forward to thrust his knife into the beings chest. His forarm kept it pinned by the neck as he twisted the broad bladed knife once....He heard a few ribs crack and a groan of pain from the Eldar. Twice and something definatly broke inside the chest. Then savagely pulled it from the gaping wound and let the corpse fall to the ground. The death was quick and the body tumbled over lifeless within moments.

He nearly collapsed as the Implant was activated yet again. He would never get used to the feeling of being completely severed from his own mind. the door opened behind him and he knew that they had already learned of his victory. He picked himself up and pushed past the empty feeling inside his skull to exit the room. The implant was very much starting to annoy the hells out of him.