I was not the first, or the last.
I am all that remains.
Raised and trained among fifty, including myself.
I am Number Thirty-Three.
My Siblings and I were all Sanctioned Psykers for the Imperium of man.
For the God-Emperor.
To those we served, we were nothing but witches and warlocks.
We knew our fate from a very young age.
Aware that we were fated to go to our Master, our power sustaining him.
We were chosen and prepared.
Placed aboard a ship designed for this very purpose, and then thrust through the Warp to awaken the spark within.
In my case, this was quite literal.
The highest marks in education belonged to Twenty-One.
The best marksmanship came from Sixteen.
The highest intelligence was that of Four.
The highest survival rating, as it turns out, was mine.
Chaos sent agents to our ship while my siblings and I slept.
They meant to use us, or exterminate us.
Education did not save Twenty-One.
Marksmanship did not save Sixteen.
Intelligence did not save Four.
…but I survived.
So much death.
So much loss.
In the end, I took responsibility for the loss of so many Psykers.
So many weapons.
So many assets.
It had to fall on somebody.
I chose myself.
This is why I was imprisoned.
I wished to rot away in my cell, and one day, join my Siblings beyond the Wall of Sleep.
This was not my fate.
No.
The God-Emperor saw fit to save me from my prison and set a path of redemption before me.
I could not save my Siblings, but I could save others.
To purge the Mutant, the Heretic, and the Xenos.
To protect the lives of those that would never see my face.
To aid those I am sent out with.
To deliver the Mercy of The Master of Mankind.
I am Thirty-Three.
The Lex Atoma guides me.
The God-Emperor protects me.
…and I will protect you.