Arising
'It's cold.' That was his first thought. He had just now opened his eyes for the very first time in...who knew how long. Months, Years, Decades, Centuries, or even, by the Old Gods forbid, Millennia.
"Lord Jonson is arising." He looked up Two Watchers that were standing nearby said in perfect unison. For years he had been around the Watchers in the Dark, but never once had he ever heard one mutter a single breathe. "The Angels of Caliban will rejoice at the news that the Lion of Caliban has awoken. And we must wake the others." They soon vanished leaving his once again alone.
He stood from his slab of stone that the Watchers placed him on when they recovered him and began to slowly gather himself. On a rack nearby was his suit of Artificer armor and the power sword that he used at the time of Caliban's fall. He reached out to touch the hilt that replaced his old blade but...Caliban. This sword was made of Adamantine pulled from the crust of a beautiful jewel of Emerald forests and Knightly Monasteries, and this sword was all that remained of a once beautiful world that he destroyed.
However there was one comfort, from what the watchers had stated, his children were still alive. The Dark Angels, still remained. He truly had to wonder on what the passage of time had done to them, were they still the same, Or had the simple flow of time changed them beyond recognition?
Soon numerous Watchers approached him in a Monastic fashion with a singular leader. Soon the angelic beings surrounded him. Each of the Watchers grabbed various parts of his armor. Before he was able to react or say anything they began to seal him into his armor. Breastplate, Gauntlets, Pauldrons, Greaves, Saboults, along with numerous pieces of the armor. Within seconds he had been resealed into his armor. Jonson only had moments to get reaccustomed to the weight his armor before all but the the Watcher leading the group began to walk from him. When they had all left the Watcher turned around and began to walk away.
"Wait!" The Lion roared expecting the Watcher to stop or say something, however it only continued to walk on. Realizing that it hadn't even stalled he quickly attempted to catch up to it. This though proved to be problematic as it continuing to march on ahead of him. Jonson crawled his way through the bowels of this fortress following the Watcher. After what Jonson believed to have been hours of grueling labor and snaking through the dark, wet, and draft passages that the Watcher lead him through. The passages twisted and turned in ways the Lion could never imagine, ways that gave him a headache beyond measure. He had honestly started to think that the Watcher had gotten them lost however he could see a light off in the distance. It was faint, but it was still it was enough to give him a boost in morale.
He continued his pace towards wherever the light was coming from, fortunately the Watcher seemed to be leading him towards the same light that he saw getting closer and closer. Soon the Lion found himself embraced by light. After a handful of moments, when his eyes had been accustomed to the light, he began to look around. The Watcher that guided him here was gone and any semblance that there was an entrance behind him vanished.
"Who in the warp are you?!" He turned his head towards the voice. It was an Astartes in green power armor with a power sword drawn. He mentally listed the color schemes of each and every legion, traitor and loyalist, that he could think of; he even thought of his lost brothers but even theirs didn't match. That is when he saw his sigil, the winged blade of Caliban. This Astartes was one of his sons.
"I said. Who ar…"
The Lion quickly overcame his feelings of fatherhood and adopted a look of iron. "I am Lion El'Jonson, otherwise known as The First, the Lord of Caliban, and the Primarch of the First legion." The Astartes quickly kneeled, rested his blade on the ground, and bowed his head, as a sign of his loyalty. "Who are you that I find myself speaking to?"
"Sargent Engels of the fifth company, my lord."
"Then rise Engels, tell me who has taken control of the First Legion during my absence?"
Using his sword to aid him, the Astartes stood up but the Primarch still towered over the Marine, something that the marine wasn't accustomed to. "My Lord, the Legions have been dissolved and split into chapters." Engels explained.
Jonson approached Engels, "Why were the legions split up?"
"If you excuse me my Lord, but the Supreme Grandmaster will be able to explain the situation to you much better than I could. If you will it I will bring you to him."
"That is fine, I will meet this son of mine and speak to him."
Brothers Reunited
From The Lion's Gate on Terra, the tower of the Astartes was visible. The thirteenth son remembered ascending the tower millennia ago. It was the long forgotten day he had taken command of his legion.
His time on old Earth had been short in those days.
His father, The Emperor had taken him here, to humanity's home world. To his father's Throne World.
Ascending the spire had been one of the greatest challenges he had ever faced.
A might liken to that of a god attempted to force him down.
But on and on he struggled up.
But it was not just the challenge of ascending the tower in the physical sense that was difficult.
It was knowing that once, or if, you reached the top, your old life was dead.
That his ascension would sentence the 500 worlds of Macragge's domain to a far away empire.
He remembered that doubt continue to build in him with every step tread along ever stair.
He wondered if ever one of his brothers felt like that on their walk up. So many bards, scholars, authors, and painters attempted to capture the moment of each essential.
Every one failed.
Nothing could capture that moment, you needed to be a primarch of the Emperor to understand.
One of his twenty gene sons… no, not twenty, at least not anymore.
He was the last, but maybe not for long. For if the words of Son's of Jonson were true; that if their primarch truly did live.
Then maybe, just maybe the Imperium could be saved.
That is why he was at the Lion's Gate.
One of three spaceports on Terra that connect to the Imperial Palace. That was why the Rock was now in orbit above the planet.
A new moon almost, a flying continent to rival that of even the great flying plates of Old Terra. One was visible in the distance to him now. Past the fog rolling ahead of it, almost heralding its advance.
It's dark silhouette in the distance.
A colossal octagon, held aloft by anti-grav engines none of the mechanicum understood even in his time.
But above it, the spires and towers that cleaved through the atmosphere of Terra like power axe.
He wondered how the defence of Terra would have gone if they did not possess them. Soon a company of Terminators in Bone-white armor approached following a man who towered over the entire company.
The New Crusade
The Primarchs towered over the Astartes. However, standing before the gate that bore his name, the Lion finally spoke. "Greetings my Brother." He said dutifully.
"And you my brother." Guilliman said. Soon he offered a hand to his elder brother. As soon as the Lion of Caliban accepted, he pulled Guilliman into an embrace. He held there for a few minutes before they separated.
"I hear that you have only just reawaken too, brother." The First asked in the statement.
"I have Lion." Guilliman said to his brother. They began to walking into the palace followed by their honor guards.
"Are the rumors true? That you spoke with father?" Jonson asked once the titan guarded gates closed.
"They are." Guilliman said.
"What did you discuss? There had to be something important." Jonson said demandingly.
Guilliman continued to walk in silence. "It would be best to hear it from himself." Jonson stared at his brother for a second as they walked.
-x-
Jonson walked into the throne room. Besides from the Companions of the Emperor himself, they were alone. Jonson stared upon the Golden Throne, more importantly, who sat on the throne. Their father's body had all but withered away. All that remained was skin tightly wrapped around the body and bones occasionally poking through.
"The First." Jonson looked around hearing a voice. "Not only is the eleventh returned, but now I have a new pawn."
Jonson looked at the throne and spoke, "Father?"
"Yes." Jonson heard.
He took a step towards the throne. "What do you want me to do? There must be something?"
There was silence in the great hall, when suddenly Jonson's mind was hit with wave of images.
-x-
First his mind saw an image of a mighty fortress world. Before it stood the forces of Chaos, soon the world cracked and shattered, and the forces of chaos spread throughout the galaxy. The Space Marines and unending forces of the Imperial Guard fought and were pushed back. Soon the galaxy was split by a great schism of the warp. While the Imperium eventually fought off the forces of Chaos. Eventually the forces of order would be drowned in the seas of chaos.
-x-
Jonson thought about the vision in his mind repeated. "Was that the future?"
His father's voice was missing, however, his brother did speak. "Yes that was."
"So than," Jonson said, "the Imperium is doomed." His voice was filled with sorrow.
"Maybe not." Guilliman said. Jonson looked at his brother. He had a look of steel across his face. "Father asked me to raise a fleet and an army with it. Than take it through a warp storm, known as the Emperor's Wrath."
The First Primarch looked at his brother, "Why would you enter a warp storm?"
Guilliman walked right up to the steps of the Golden Throne. "When I asked father the same he explained that he opened it so that travel to a parallel galaxy."
Jonson approached confused, "A parallel galaxy?"
"Physically it's exactly the same as our galaxy. Star formations and planet locations should more or less be the same. Otherwise I don't know of the extent of the similarities." Guilliman said. Almost as if he we ordering the Lion himself.
El'Jonson held his words for a moment taking in every detail that had been offered to him. "What does this have to do with me?" Jonson finally asked.
"Only a Primarch may lead this fleet. That much our father has decreed. I however cannot leave this Imperium." Guilliman paused. Jonson could hear his brother sigh heavily before turning to him. "Which is why I ask you to lead this force in my stead."
The Lion was experiencing mixed emotions. Although anger won out. "So you expect me to abandon the Imperium!" He yelled. "I was unable to help our father before, but now that I has reawoken you expect me to abandon everything! Just so you can say that you didn't break your honor!"
"LION!" Jonson felt a psychic shockwave, and from the faces of everyone else they also felt it. He looked to the throne and nearly forgot where he was.
A pregnant silence hung in the air before Guilliman broke it. "Lion, one of needs to go with this crusade. So they may establish the new Imperium. Weather it is you or I, I truly don't care." Guilliman and Jonson locked eyes. "What I do care about is sending this of before the next wave of the Despoiler's forces return."
Lion El' Jonson thought. In that he thought of every possible circumstance and outcome. Until eventually he made his decision.
Departure
Lord Commander of The Imperium, Roboute Guilliman, stood erect like a pillar on the bride of Macragge's Honour.
Unmoving, and unflinching, like a statue carved out of stone.
He watched like a sentinel, out of the viewports of his ship. Its opening to the void looking more akin to the panels of glass belonging to a cathedral of old Terra, rather than the view ports of a 30th millenia star ship.
He stared right into the heart of the warp storm they called "The Emperor's Wrath."
It seemed to look back at him, with the same dead stare he had seen upon his father's withered, carrion like face.
He was one of the last primarchs. A dying breed if ever there was one.
Now he would be the last loyalist in the galaxy.
For what watched with him was a fleet in size not seen since the Emperor walked among men. If he had a fleet like this then, and had gotten it to Terra… maybe..
No, that is the past. A dead time, now soon the fates would decide, which primarch would live, and which would die.
Guilliman had always been the pragmatic type of man.
There were several possibilities from what was about to happen. Either Lion El'Jonson would live, or perish in the warp after crossing over.
Then either he would live or die, by the hands of the terrors that now strangled the Imperium across almost all her millions of worlds.
The Lion, and this fleet, would be gone forever. Where they might end up, no one knew, but this was the only chance they had, for the Imperium his father had established to live in any form. "Father" he spoke to nothing, "If you truly can hear me now, I want you to know I'm sorry it had to come to this. We don't have much longer, do we? Even now I can sense the Astronomicon dim, and flicker. I am unable to say with any form of certainty, only that I swore to you, when I first saw what Horus had done to you, that I would spend every last breath of mine defending this Imperium. That is what I do now I think… I hope.."
His new officer, Cato Sicarius spoke up, "Who is it you speak to my lord?" The primarch was still getting used to new breed of Ultramarines he has to command. But this one at least knew his way around a sword. "I speak to your God, I should think." Thundered Guilliman, whose voice echoed across the vast chamber. "Our God?" Sicarius retorted, almost in a plea. The eleventh son of the Emperor shook his head, not caring that the Elcisiarch himself, Dessius IX was only a few feet from him.
The man spoke, with an almost unnaturally soothing voice, "The God-Emperor protects…"
Guilliman cocked his head to look at him, "I hope for our sakes," He turned his head back to face the massed fleet, "And theirs, that he really does."
They stood like that, for what could have been an age, in nothing but total quiet. The only noise the low din of the engines thousands of meters below. It was almost like a moment of silence, observed during funerals. Thats was a morbid thought, but not unjustified.
It was the mighty primarch who broke the silence.
"Sicarius."
"Yes, Liege?" He said coming to attention.
"Get to the hangers, make sure the Grey Knights there are ready to leave. Make sure they have it with them."
Cato Sicarius bowed and readied to leave, before the primarch stopped him once more.
"You are to board the thunder hawk with them."
"My Lord I…"
He was cut off, "Sicarius, I place upon you, the new duty to serve as my voice. I name you the Envoy Of Terra, you shall sit upon Lion El'Jonson's council, and do as I would bid, if I was there myself. Is that understood?"
Sicarius held his tongue as thousands of thoughts and emotions overtook him, and he nodded.
That was the last time he saw his gene father. As he walked to the gunship ready to take him aboard the Rock. The Grey Knights were waiting for him, as if they knew he would be joining them.
"Are you the one they told us was being brought along?"
Spoke the marine in terminator armour.
He replied swiftly, "Yes, it is I, Cato Sicarius, second captain of the Ultramarines. Knight champion of Macragge."
"And I am Grand Master Voldus of the Grey Knights, Warden of the librarius."
"Do you have the item they told me about?"
He scoffed, "This item, I will have you know, is known as the Terminus Decree."
Sicarius responded, "I care little what the box is, or what is in it. We have work to do."
Author's Notes
This has been a little pet project from years ago. I do all of my writing in Google drive and I found this and decided to post this prologue chapter. I've decided to write the next two chapters and see what everyone's response is. If you're interested, cool. You can tell me or wait for the next couple of chapters. And if you're wondering why this is slightly different from my usual writing style, that's because Guiliman's parts were written by a friend. Also for reference there will be no Primaris Marines foe two reasons. First we started writing this before they were a thing, second I don't really like the Primaris Marines for the sole reason I do not trust them.