Prologue
Imperium.
That one word holds so much meaning.
From the darkness it rose from an idea to start to take form in reality.
So much was and is still sacrificed to achieve it. Death in troves. Enough blood to flood all of Terra. So much, that even I must turn away from the unfathomable numbers, lest they haunt me into eternity.
Yet, it was not in vain! We achieved so much! My vision almost became a reality. My beloved sons, my resilient people, held the galaxy in our palms and all of it nearly swept away by…them.
I underestimated them. I was arrogant, I realize that now. My arrogance nearly undid us all. But my crimson son, one whom I almost doubted, saw possibilities that I did not. He received help from a source I had long dismissed. Their actions are what allowed us to survive and strike back against them.
Even in the state I am now, my power does not wane, for I am not alone. My people, those by blood and those taken in, are with me as they pass. They come to me weary and tired and I give them peace. Even as they slumber, they remain with me, strengthening my resolve and directing my focus. To those that have yet to come to me, I feel them out there among the stars. I feel their joy, their happiness, their anger, their pain, their despair…
I am not a God, despite what some would believe. For if I was, I would never have lost my sons to them. I am a great being, the greatest of my race, this may be true, but I am not perfect. For all my successes, I have made mistakes that as cost me more than half my sons. To those loyal, my heart rejoices. To those…gone, it aches. To those lost to them, despair pierces it.
But I continue on, as do my people. We were once alone but no longer. Even I am not alone anymore. And they, must contend with us all.
The Prince, the youngest, still rages at me in anger and spite for stealing the course of history that belongs to my people from him. He can no longer consume their future as he once did. He reaches out to grab them was they pass to me and I burn his hand every time. Yet, he never stops and neither do I. I admit, I take pleasure in denying him.
The Healer has been wrenched free from the Plague. His cage can no longer hold her. He attempts to reclaim her again and again only to fail. She eludes him, mocks him. His filth can block her radiance no more than she can wipe all of his grim from existence. His experiments have slowed with her escape and even now, his garden still bears scars from her freedom. The Healer smiles down on the galaxy as she continues to nurture her gift and divines new ones. I encourage her, as the galaxy misses her touch.
The Weaver sits in his realm in agitation. His plans, as he always has them, are no longer the only plans. The Fool now turns the will of fate against him. The Weaver can no longer sit by and just pull the strings of destiny at his leisure. He must be careful, lest he be tricked by the Fool. I always know when something as occurred. The Fool's cackle is music to my ears…
The Lord of Skulls burns with rage that even I pause at. He can sense it, he can sense the pieces of the Bloody One. The Bloody One was shattered long ago but he refuses to dissipate. Instead, he slowly collects himself. Even as his shards remain separate, his will returns. He is eager to battle once again. I welcome his return with open arms.
We represent the Order that opposes the Chaos. We shall never surrender. The attempts to weaken us have failed and the war rages on. We will never surrender, never yield. As long as the Imperium stands, so shall we.
The Imperium.
That name means power.
It means unity.
It means hope.
It means salvation.
It means endurance.
It means they're end.
