The void of space stretched endlessly before the ancient Ramilies-class Starfort, its massive silhouette barely visible against the backdrop of distant stars. Within its labyrinthine corridors, a secret lay hidden from the prying eyes of the Imperium. In a sterile chamber deep within the bowels of the station, a child was born.

Her first breath was not a cry, but a gasp, as if the very act of entering this grim universe had shocked her into silence. The medicae-servitors, their augmetic limbs whirring softly, recorded her vital signs with cold efficiency. Their cogitators noted an anomaly: the child emanated no presence in the Warp. She was a blank, a pariah, a soulless one.

"Subject E-V-3 successfully birthed," intoned a hooded figure, his voice devoid of emotion. "Commence Phase One of Project Abysswalker."

And so began the life of the one who would come to be known as Eve.

From her very first moments, Eve's existence was one of rigid control and constant observation. The renegade cell of the Adeptus Mechanicus that had created her saw her as nothing more than a test subject, a potential weapon to be honed against the myriad threats that plagued the Imperium.

At one year of age, when most children would be taking their first tentative steps, Eve was already undergoing harsh conditioning. Her handlers had discovered her unique genetic quirk early on - an ability to heal at an accelerated rate. Injuries that would take months to mend in a normal human healed in weeks for Eve. It was not the rapid regeneration of the Adeptus Astartes, but it was far beyond the capabilities of an unaugmented human.

The renegade tech-priests saw this as a promising sign. They pushed her tiny body to its limits, inflicting wounds and observing her recovery with detached fascination. They subjected her to toxins and pathogens, meticulously documenting her immune response. All in the name of creating the perfect living weapon.

But there was a flaw in their grand design. As Eve's body healed, it rejected any attempts at augmentation or enhancement. Bionic implants were expelled, genetic modifications undone. Her flesh seemed to have a will of its own, always returning to its base state. The tech-priests grew frustrated, their binary cant filled with angry bursts of static as they debated the value of their creation.

What they failed to realize, in their obsession with the physical, was the true gift that Eve possessed. Her mind, even at such a young age, was extraordinary. She absorbed information at a rate that would have impressed even the most learned Magos Biologis. By the age of one, she could recite complex biological data and solve logic puzzles that would challenge an adult.

Eve learned quickly to hide the full extent of her mental abilities. She intuited, with a wisdom far beyond her years, that to reveal too much would only lead to more invasive tests, more painful experiments. So, she played the role of the obedient test subject, all the while observing, learning, and planning.

For four more years, Eve endured. The renegade cell continued their experiments, pushing her body to its limits and beyond. They trained her in combat techniques, honing her reflexes and teaching her the weak points of various xenos species. They exposed her to controlled doses of Warp energy, hoping to unlock some hidden potential in her blank nature.

Through it all, Eve's mind continued to expand. She memorized the layout of the starfort, learned the routines of her handlers, and began to piece together the true nature of the universe she inhabited. She heard whispered conversations about the Imperium, the constant wars that raged across the galaxy, and the existential threats that lurked in the darkness between the stars.

As her fifth birthdate approached, Eve overheard a conversation that chilled her to her core. The lead tech-priest, his voice a grating mixture of flesh and vox-caster, was discussing her fate with his colleagues.

"Subject E-V-3 has failed to meet the required parameters," he intoned. "It's resistance to augmentation makes it unsuitable for further development. Recommend termination and recycling of biomass for future iterations of Project Abysswalker."

Eve's heart raced, but her face remained impassive. She had long suspected that her usefulness to her creators was limited, but to hear it stated so coldly still sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she had to act, and soon, if she was to survive.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

On the eve of her planned termination, alarms blared throughout the starfort. The sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed through the corridors. Eve, secured in her holding cell, pressed her ear to the door and listened intently.

"Eversor!" The cry rang out, followed by screams of terror and the distinctive sound of a chainsword tearing through flesh and metal alike.

Eve's mind raced. The Eversor Temple, one of the most feared branches of the Officio Assassinorum, had somehow learned of the renegade cell's existence. Now they had come to purge this heretical operation with extreme prejudice.

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In the chaos that followed, Eve saw her chance. As her guards rushed to defend against the Eversor's onslaught, she slipped out of her cell. Her small size, skill and knowledge of the starfort's layout allowed her to navigate the carnage undetected.

She made her way to the hangar bay, her bare feet silent on the cold metal decking. The sounds of battle grew more distant as she reached her destination. There, nestled among larger shuttles and gunships, was a single escape pod.

Eve's fingers flew over the activation rune, her mind recalling the launch procedures she had memorized from stolen glances at tech-manuals. The pod's hatch hissed open, and she climbed inside, her heart pounding in her chest.

As the pod ejected from the starfort, Eve caught a glimpse of the battle raging within. Through a viewport, she saw a black-armored figure moving with inhuman speed, its skull-faced helm a visage of death as it tore through the renegade tech-priests. For a moment, the Eversor's gaze seemed to lock onto her pod, and Eve felt a chill run down her spine.

But then the pod's stealth systems engaged, and she was swallowed by the void of space. Eve let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was free, but to what end? She was a five-year-old blank, alone in a hostile universe she barely understood.

The pod's cogitators plotted a course to the nearest habitable world, guided by the astronavigation data in its memory banks. As the small craft journeyed, Eve curled up in the acceleration couch, her mind racing with possibilities and dangers. Days passed and Eve subsisted on nutrient paste from the pod's emergency supplies, her accelerated healing helping her body cope with the meager sustenance. She spent the time reviewing everything she knew about the Imperium, preparing herself for whatever awaited her at journey's end. Eve's eyes widened at the sight before her. The planet loomed large in the viewscreen, its surface a patchwork of industrial sprawl and wasteland. But it was the sky that caught her attention. Fiery contrails crisscrossed the upper atmosphere, and flashes of weapons fire lit up the void of space.

This world was at war.

As the pod began its descent, Eve's keen mind processed the tactical data scrolling across the cogitator's display. The planet was under assault by a massive Ork Waaagh!, its defenders fighting a desperate holding action against the green tide.

The pod's trajectory took it towards a relatively quiet area of the conflict, a region of twisted metal and rubble that had already seen the worst of the fighting. As it streaked through the atmosphere, Eve braced herself for impact. The landing was rough, the pod's retro-thrusters barely slowing its descent enough to prevent her from being crushed on impact.

Smoke filled the cabin as Eve fumbled with the hatch release. She stumbled out into a hellscape of twisted metal and burning debris. The air was thick with the acrid stench of promethium and the distinctive fungal odor that accompanied all Ork infestations.

Eve's bare feet bled as she picked her way through the rubble, her enhanced healing already working to close the cuts. She needed to find shelter, to gather her bearings and form a plan. After getting some distance from the escape pod, it explodes as it turns out that Eve blew it off so that no one can see where she came from. But the sound of approaching engines told her that time was not on her side.

From behind a collapsed hab-block, a massive Ork Battlewagon rumbled into view. Its crude armor was festooned with spikes and glyphs, its hull scarred from countless battles. Atop its frame, a mob of Ork Boyz hooted and hollered, their crude weapons waving in the air as they searched for more victims.

Eve froze, her mind racing through possible escape routes. But before she could act, the ground shook with the impact of massive footsteps. From the opposite direction, a towering figure emerged from the smoke and ash.

It was a Space Marine, his armor the deep green of the Salamanders Chapter. His helmet was adorned with draconic features, and in his hands, he wielded a massive thunder hammer that crackled with barely contained energy. Behind him came more of his battle-brothers, their flamers and meltaguns at the ready.

The Orks, seeing new prey, redirected their Battlewagon towards the Salamanders. But the Space Marines were ready. With a roar that shook the very air, they charged forward, their weapons blazing with righteous fury.

Eve, caught between these two titanic forces, did the only thing she could think of. She ran towards the Space Marines, her small form barely visible amidst the debris and smoke. As she approached, she allowed tears to flow freely down her face, adopting the demeanor of a terrified child.

"Help me!" she cried out, her voice cracking with what seemed like genuine fear. "Please, help me!"

The lead Salamander, his attention momentarily diverted from the approaching Orks, turned towards Eve. In that moment, despite her blank nature, all he saw was a child in need of protection. It was a testament to the Salamanders' compassion that even in the heat of battle, they would not ignore a cry for help.

With a speed belying his massive size, the Space Marine scooped Eve up in one arm, his thunder hammer still crackling in the other. "Brothers!" he called out, his vox-amplified voice carrying over the din of battle. "Protect the child! For the Emperor and Vulkan!"

As the Salamanders formed a protective circle around Eve, she allowed herself a small, hidden smile. She had escaped one form of captivity only to find herself in the midst of a war zone. But now, against all odds, she had found protectors. The irony was not lost on her – a blank, a soulless one, now under the guard of some of the Imperium's greatest warriors.

The Ork Battlewagon bore down on them, its guns blazing with inaccurate but heavy fire. But the Salamanders stood firm, their armor shrugging off the crude projectiles. As one, they unleashed their flamers, bathing the approaching vehicle in promethium fire.

Eve watched in awe as the Battlewagon's crew leapt from the burning hulk, only to be cut down by precision bolter fire. The few Orks that made it through the firestorm met their end at the crackling head of the Salamander Sergeant's thunder hammer.

As the last Ork fell, the Sergeant turned his attention back to Eve. He removed his helmet, revealing a face as black as night, with eyes that glowed like embers. His expression was one of concern as he knelt down to Eve's level.

"You are safe now, little one," he said, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. "I am Sergeant Taelon of the Salamanders. Can you tell me your name?"

Eve, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, looked up at the Space Marine. "I'm... I'm Eve," she said, her voice trembling as she already started calling herself that based on her creators. "Have you seen my dog?"

Sergeant Taelon's face softened further, if such a thing was possible for a transhuman warrior. "I have not but fear not, Eve. The sons of Vulkan will protect you. We will take you safety."

Eve looks at Sergeant Taelon’s helmet and she can see through it as she peeks into his eyes, the space marine before Eve is compassionate and honorable. Eve’s question brought her more comfort knowing that the Salamanders are indeed trustworthy.

As the Salamanders began to move out, Eve cradled in the arms of one of the battle-brothers, she allowed herself to relax slightly. She had survived the renegade tech-priests, escaped an Eversor assassin, and now found herself under the protection of the Adeptus Astartes.

The irony of her situation was not lost on her. A blank, engineered to be a weapon against the enemies of mankind, now playing the role of an innocent child. But Eve knew that innocence was perhaps the best disguise of all.

As they made their way through the war-torn landscape, Eve's mind was already working, planning her next moves. She was alive, and for now, that was enough. The future, uncertain as it was, lay before her like an open book, waiting to be written.

In the arms of the Salamander, with the sounds of distant battle echoing around them, Eve closed her eyes. For the first time in her short life, she allowed herself to feel something akin to hope. The galaxy was vast and full of terrors, but Eve was no longer a prisoner. She was free. As the Salamanders carried her towards an uncertain future.

The battle for her life, it seemed, had only just begun. But soon she will meet someone who will change her life forever.