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This first chapter I believe to be the weakest overall, because the setup for a crossover is never not going to be contrived and cringe-worthy.
How ironic that the day most feared in the Imperium would turn out to be the day of its greatest triumph.
The day the Golden Throne finally failed.
When the Golden Throne failed, it was in the middle of the Terran day.
All around the dying Emperor stood his Custodes, in silent vigil. Around the base of the Throne, the greatest minds of the Imperium battled tooth and nail to keep the machine running.
But slowly and inexorably, the great machine ground to a halt.
Moments before the end, the men working on the throne stood, shaking their heads in frustration.
They looked at the Emperor, saluting him for the last time.
One, driven mad by pure hopelessness, slit his throat with a sharp piece of metal.
And the Emperor died.
The Custodes maintained their silent vigil as his eyes slowly drifted closed.
Across the Imperium, Navigators clutched their faces and cried out in pain as the Astronomican disappeared from the warp.
In the warp, the Ruinous Powers rejoiced.
In the great throne room on Terra, the Custodes carefully removed the Emperor's lifeless body from the Golden Throne. They placed it in a sarcophagus of pure gold, which was free of decoration save for an Imperial Aquila on the lid. Carefully they began to carry it through the halls of the Imperial Palace, to be placed in the tomb prepared for it. There it would lie next to the far more ancient casket of Malcador the Hero, the Emperor's greatest servant, for as long as the Palace stood.
But, as the first Custodian turned to leave the great chamber, something changed.
The procession stopped, all eyes turning to the Throne once more.
Then the Throne room filled with light.
Brighter than the sun it shone, and yet it did not dazzle, nor did it pain the eyes.
The light began to coalesce upon the Throne, swirling and dancing as it did.
And as the light finally faded, it revealed the figure of a man, seated upon the Throne.
Everyone in the chamber gazed in awe at the miraculous return of their lord.
But this was not the dried husk of a minute before.
This was the Emperor as he had appeared during the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago.
Clad in his Golden armour, he smiled upon his great creations, the Custodes, and the men who had given their all to prolong his life.
But then his gaze fell upon the dead man, lying in a pool of his own blood at the base of the throne.
The Emperor stood up, descending the steps to where the man lay.
He placed one glowing hand upon the limp form.
The corpse twitched and spasmed violently, then lay still.
The eyes of the once-dead man flickered open, and he looked up into the smiling face of the Emperor.
The Emperor helped the man to his feet, and then he stiffened.
Something, no, SOMEONE, was missing.
He glanced about for his friend, and then memory returned.
Malcador was dead.
The Emperor looked down at the man he had just returned to life, and then he acted.
He cast his mind towards the Throne, mentally caressing each ancient component in his search.
There were the remnants of uncountable souls, but among those feeble things even the smallest fragment of what he looked for stood out.
He found what he was looking for.
A remnant, the smallest scrap of the blazing fire that had been his friend's soul.
Seizing the remnant, the Emperor fanned the flame until it glowed once more.
Bending his entire might to the task, the Emperor breathed new life into his long-dead friend.
But a soul without a body is nothing.
The Emperor, with the merest thought, warped reality itself into a from more pleasing to him.
And there stood Malcador.
Not the husk that had been left by the Throne, not even the old man that had accompanied the Emperor on the Crusade so many millennia ago. This was Malcador in his prime.
Malcador looked around him, apparently unfazed by his death and subsequent return to life.
He looked up at the smiling face of his softly glowing friend, and smiled.
"Well, at least you will not have to reconquer the ENTIRE galaxy this time." He said.
The Emperor laughed at this, then spoke:
"No, WE won't. But first…"
The Emperor rose into the air, gathering his unimaginable might. Then, he snapped his fingers.
Across the galaxy, weeping Navigators dried their tears, turning their eyes to distant Terra.
A wave of golden light blasted forth from the cradle of Mankind, sweeping aside the warp storms that filled it.
And the clarity left behind was filled with the light of a new Astronomican.
Not the steady glow of the old, this new guiding light filled the galaxy.
Each world glowed with its own radiance, with guiding lines of golden light connecting them.
Then the Emperor himself entered the warp.
With his newfound might, he eclipsed the entities of the warp.
The very Ruinous Powers found themselves powerless to escape his grasp.
The Emperor closed his hand upon them, crushing them.
But they did not die.
These creatures of emotion made flesh could not be extinguished.
The Emperor glanced about the warp, until his gaze found a small crack.
Several of these dotted the Warp, and the Emperor grasped the nearest.
With all his might, he pushed at the crack, tearing it wide.
And into this tear in reality he flung his enemies.
As they hurtled into the abyss, each seized their most prized possession.
Nurgle seized his prised cauldron, Slaanesh its Jade Sceptre, and Tzeentch his everchanging Robe. Khorne, already holding Woebringer, reached out to seize his favourite champion, Kharne.
And then all was oblivion for the Ruinous powers.