Sonsu, Khan of the White Scars' Brotherhood of the Sand, looked at Mannran of the Iron Warriors. The latter stood silently, looking at the distant strategium doors.

Ahriman and Amon had been sent away, and there was now no one in the room except ten Primarchs. The complete Mournival joined the other Marines, from the various Legions. Remembrancers were roughly shooed away, but they kept coming, even though the Primarchs were locked in seclusion, simply to look at the Astartes. Calas Typhon of the Death Guard was here; so was Marius Gage, First Chapter Master of the Ultramarines. It was a gathering of the brightest stars of ten Legions.

Sonsu found it difficult to focus on those brothers, or for that matter on First Captain Forrix of the Fourth; let Qin Xa debate with them. But Mannran, sergeant of Perturabo's bluish-armored bodyguard, the Cobalt Brotherhood, somehow seemed closer to Sonsu's own level.

"What is it that concerns you, cousin?" Sonsu asked.

"Is it not obvious? There is a gathering there -" Mannran gazed at the doors piercingly - "that none of us, save the Luna Wolves, have an inkling of the significance of. But ten Primarchs, Sonsu Khan. It will change anything, whatever it is."

"Aye," Sonsu said, "but there is something else, is there not?"

Mannran paused, staring at the doors. Then he beckoned Sonsu closer.

"The Lord of Iron," he said quietly, "has little need for a mortal bodyguard. He has increasingly been delegating our duties to the automata of the Iron Circle. Some fear we are to be disbanded. I dread that, to an extent, the loss of the Cobalt Brotherhood's traditions; but after D'reana Jackala, and the argument with the Lion, that seems to have changed. He still favors the Iron Circle, but no longer clearly disfavors us."

Sonsu twirled his moustache. "But is that not a good thing?"

"Not entirely," Mannran said. "It is not in Perturabo's nature to change so suddenly, about anything. But when he does... I have no idea of what my Primarch will do in that room, Sonsu Khan. But I can assure you that, more than ever, he is capable of anything."

Sonsu Khan looked at the strategium doors, in deep thought.

"I think," he said in the end, "that right now this is true of all our fathers."


There was a moment when Horus feared that no one would back him, that he had made a treacherous fool of himself; and then, of course, Magnus rose and walked to Horus's left side, facing the other Primarchs.

"I have explained what I have seen," he stated. "I know not all of you trust it, for it was gained by sorcery; but the truth is, my father went too far on the path of the psyker too fast, and fell to its temptations. It is easy, you know, to gain power by sacrificing purity when dealing with the Warp. In truth, I have brushed that darkness too close, too many times. That is why I sent orders to reorganise my Legion, before coming here.

"But I have not gone nearly as far as our father; and so, for all his wisdom, he was convinced that power was more important than morality. And I know full well how such stories end. The Great Ocean can be a way to accomplish great things, a Primordial Creator. That is what the Imperium was. But our father chose the aspect of the Primordial Annihilator, instead, an aspect we speak little of because it has no use that does not corrupt.

"I still believe we can build greatness, and that the destiny of the human race is psychic. But what I have seen leaves no doubt in my mind that the Emperor is lost. I fight, as always, for hope and truth, riding the waves of the Great Ocean. And that means that I stand with you, Horus Lupercal. All is light."

Magnus finished his speech, and a few seconds later, Mortarion rose and walked to Horus's right side.

"I do not stand with you, Horus, for Magnus's prophecies," he said, "though I admit that I underestimated him. But on Barbarus, I lived for one task and one task only. I was the leader of the humans, who fought against the impure, mutated Tyrants in the foggy mountains above. And that has been my task ever since. I am the Guardian of Death, and I bring it forth against oppressors.

"I have met many such tyrants in the course of the Great Crusade, human and xeno. And I have crushed them utterly. Such is the Fourteenth Legion's way. We stand, resolutely, against dark order. And now I face the most orderly darkness of all. I have seen the pict-feeds, and they are real. The Emperor has become a tyrant, just as much as the insectoid necromancers of Barbarus.

"So, then, I do not know what sort of time we are entering. All I know is what we are fighting against, and that is the hypocritical monster than the Emperor now is and, perhaps, has always been - and what we are fighting for, which is humanity. In all its imperfect glory. And that is why I stand with you, Horus. To bring doom upon the despot."

About twenty seconds passed before Jaghatai Khan rose and walked to Magnus's left. The other Primarchs began to stand, too, but at the opposite side of the room.

"I will be brief," Jaghatai said. "We know little of what is truly going on in the Emperor's mind. All we know is that he is going against every principle of good rule. He secluded himself from the Crusade, only to begin undermining his Warmaster's authority. And he authorizes his sons to kill worlds for no good reason, while delegating command to Lorgar, who was for decades incapable of understanding the basic principles of the Imperial Truth. I do not understand him anymore; but I understand you, Horus, and you, Magnus. And so I stand with you, to sing freedom together."

The fifth to rise, a few seconds thereafter, was Alpharius. He went to Mortarion's right.

"I," he said, "am quite capable, as is necessary for a Legion that operates like the Alpha, at detecting small lies. But it seems I am unable to see titanic ones. I am sorry, Horus Lupercal, for Sixty-Three Nineteen; but also, I am sorry for believing the foulest of lies, which had a mantle of truth, that was spread about you by - of all things - xenos.

"On the world of 42 Hydra Tertius, I met a xeno organization known as the Cabal. They showed me, and a few of my operatives, a vision, through a machine called the Acuity. It was the sort of vision that left no doubt, in my mind, that it was true. It showed, to be precise, Horus leading an uprising against the Imperium - for completely different reasons, and with completely different allies, than was actually the case. In this vision, it was the Warmaster and not the Emperor who made deals with Warp entities. The Acuity showed me that the only hope for the galaxy was to stand alongside Horus and ensure the galaxy was conquered by Chaos, after which humanity would be destroyed but xeno species could survive. The alternative was a galaxy entirely gone.

"I agreed, with a heavy heart, to the Cabal's plan. It was the purest moment of utter stupidity in my long life. I did not fall to a small lie, but to the most absurd, gigantic one possible. And yet - reality is even more absurd, is it not? But I will not make the mistake I previously did, and consider fighting for evil in the name of xenos. I will fight, as I must, for mankind. And that means I will stand with you, Horus, against the galaxy-destroying threat that is the Primordial Annihilator that is the Emperor. Hydra Dominatus."

If the other Primarchs were shocked at Alpharius's admission, that was secondary, or perhaps tertiary, before the question of Horus Lupercal's rebellion. They stood opposite Horus's group. Sanguinius faced Horus, Russ and Corax to his right, Guilliman and Perturabo to his left.

They all stood like that for several minutes, thinking, in silence. Each did their best not to contemplate a battle, and no weapons were drawn, and yet each, subconsciously, considered just that possibility. The two sides seemed evenly matched, or close to it. Horus and Sanguinius were equals at the top of Primarch possibility. Alpharius was one of the weaker Primarchs, martially, but Magnus had his psychic abilities. And this was Horus's ship, and that would probably matter as well. But no one made any true decision based on who would win a fight. This was no time to make choices based on self-preservation. Even one Legion could easily tip the balance of a future war, especially if more Primarchs joined Horus's side. And each of the ten would rather die for humanity than live to fight against it.

And then Russ walked from his place to the room's center.

"In the wolf packs of Fenris," he stated, "the alpha rules. The alpha is the most powerful wolf, in a combination of body and mind. But, of course, which wolf is the most powerful changes over time. And so the alpha can be challenged, and often is for good reason. When the pack is led wrongly, even if the alpha is bodily strong, a challenge of mental skill can still dethrone the pack leader.

"That is what we are doing, in an infinitely more sophisticated and complicated way. We see an Emperor that may not be fit, anymore, to rule. And so we howl our defiance. Perhaps the Emperor is still strong in both body and mind. But we are human, or rather transhuman, and thus we measure strength by other measures as well. Will. Ethics. Ideology. And we challenge the Emperor to a contest in civilization.

"And so I will back your challenge, Lupercal. It will be a costly one, as challenges always are, but it is also necessary. And it tests not only the Emperor and yourself, and all of us, but also humanity. But, perhaps, when the storm lifts, the new dawn will shine even brighter than the one we leave behind."

And the Wolf King walked, and stood to Alpharius's right.

It took only a few seconds for Guilliman to replace him in the strategium's center. "They call me," he said, "sometimes, the Ultimate Warrior or the Battle King; but those are names that apply just as well, or better, to others among us. But I am also known, and this pleases me much more, as the Avenging Son. Konor's son.

"And the Consul that raised me told me, not long before I left for the war in Illyrium, a story of his own youth. He told me of a lost structure, somewhere in the wilds of Illyrium. It was a silver-colored tower, as big as a city, built as a series of thirteen concentric cylinders on top of one another, each one smaller than the one below it. There were paintings, even, of it, many truly beautiful. But when I arrived in Illyrian, and talked to the local tribesmen, I found out that the legend was just that. The tower had never existed.

"So, when I came to power over Macragge, I decided to build the tower myself. It stands there today, one of the arcologies in northern Macragge, and in my frank opinion the most beautiful of the lot. I placed the pinnacle of the tower onto it, with my own hands, a few weeks before the Emperor arrived and took me to join the Great Crusade.

"That is what we are capable of, at our most basic, before even being introduced to the technology of the Imperium. Ultramar is prosperous, and though it certainly benefits from the Imperium, it does not critically need it. Likewise, we ourselves do not need to bow when doing so would be detrimental to the good of the galaxy. The Great Crusade has done good; but we are more than crusaders.

"I stand with you, Warmaster, for the sake of life. Because the Astartes are capable, should be capable, of more than death. And the Primarchs, so much more than Astartes, must certainly be more than murderers. Yes, the path of destruction is tempting, and even Dorn and Ferrus, it seems, have chosen it. But I will not. I stand with you, Warmaster, in part for vengeance against murdered worlds - but mostly, for justice towards surviving ones."

Guilliman walked and stood to Jaghatai's left. But the remaining three Primarchs did not move.

"Why, Horus?" Sanguinius asked with infinite sadness. For a while, there was silence.

"This is treachery," Corax eventually stated.

"Aye," Perturabo said, "there is no other word for it."

"But there is," Horus said, and all eyes in the room swiveled to the Warmaster once again. "Some would call this treachery, but this is not what the Imperium would describe it as. Blasphemy, the Emperor would say. Sacrilege, he would dub it. Aye - to the Imperium, this is not treachery. It is heresy."

A few seconds later, Corvus Corax sighed and walked to the center of the strategium.

"This is treachery," he said, "one way or another. But sometimes, treachery is necessary.

"I backed the Emperor when he promised to help me rebuild Kiavahr, and bring peace to Deliverance and the planet it orbited. The reason, of course, that it was at war at all was the rebellion I launched. But long before Father came to the system, I remember one of my first fathers, my fourth mentor, Alvpixx, a political prisoner who was at one point a leading reformer in one of the Tech-Guilds. He was a brilliant administrator, but due to various intrigues and his own compassion for the slaves of Lycaeus, he ended up exiled, and ultimately sentenced to a lifetime of harsh labor.

"But by the time the rebellion had begun, the political situation below had changed. My mentor was called back, and named the heir to his guild. His position was largely that of a figurehead, but it was indisputable that he was treated well, and had real power. Daus, the new leader of his guild, became if anything a friend. Nevertheless, Alvpixx had never told anyone of me. And when the rebellion began, he led that small fraction of his guild that was loyal to him in support of me. Daus dubbed him a traitor, and he was not wrong. In the end, he killed Alvpixx, not long before their city was destroyed by an atomic charge I sent; but Alvpixx's information was crucial to winning the war.

"Alvpixx stood with those who were his brothers in the times of hardship we all experienced on Lycaeus, over his blood family, which had all in all been good to him. I knew, at the time, that I would not have, in his place. But now, I suppose, I understand him better. He fought not for himself, and not for me, but for what he knew was right. And if I am to be half as good a man as him, I must do likewise today.

"I loved the Emperor as a father. And I firmly believe that he loved me equally. But sometimes, we must embark on a course of treachery. I stand with you, Lupercal, not for myself, and certainly not for you, and not even for an abstract humanity. I stand with you because I know that it is what is right, even if it breaks my personal code. And I will fight for that until the end - until victory, or death."

Corax walked to the other side of the room, and stood to Russ's right. Half a minute of silence later, Perturabo walked to the center of the room.

"When I first met the Emperor," the Lord of Iron announced, "I recognised him immediately as my father. But I did not simply swear an oath of loyalty. I swore, that day, the oaths of the White Order, and to fight the Great Crusade in their name.

"The White Order was an ancient Terran organization, founded in the middle of the fourth millennium. Most of its members were simple humans, but through any means they could, they strove to make the world a better place. The Emperor was one of the last to be inducted into it, in its waning days, thousands of years later. He was the last surviving member, until he swore me in, after I went through a phase - during my archeological studies on Terra - of fascination with it." And Perturabo ripped his right gauntlet off, revealing a white metallic ring, which depicted a prism radiating lines of light.

"Four oaths. The oath of Body: I shall fight, whenever I must, always for the might of life, against the eternity of death.

The oath of Mind: Logic shall be my foundation, and from it I shall build, through hardship, beyond the heavens.

The oath of Passion: Compassion, empathy, and love alone hold the universe together, and when they are pure, I shall embrace them without limit.

The oath of Power: I shall not strive to become a god, for a god cannot be benevolent; I shall merely try to rise upwards."

Perturabo looked around his brothers. "I have wondered, many times, whether I have lived up to even a fragment of those oaths. I have considered, many times, simply crushing the ring after a particularly brutal campaign. But now I realise that I cannot do that. The White Order cannot die, and the Emperor has betrayed its principles; every last one of them, it would seem. I have made oaths, perfect oaths that have resounded through the millennia before me and that will continue to chime, if perhaps in a new form, until they are no longer needed. I had thought my promises to the Emperor were my most vital promises, iron I could not afford to shatter; but now I realise there are more important ones I have made. Not to the fact of the Great Crusade, but to the ideals that its worth was built on. So I stand with you, Warmaster Horus Lupercal. Iron within. Iron without."

He walked to Guilliman's left, and only Sanguinius remained. The Great Angel looked at the scene, with the sadness of eternal doom. He rested a hand on the pommel of his sword, causing everyone in the room to tense.

"Brother," he said, and all knew he was referring to Horus, "despite what you may think, the Emperor was still right to name you Warmaster. I would have fallen to this madness more easily than you."

"No, Sang," Horus responded. "You were the proper choice, always. You would see the truth of Father's fall, and explain it, more clearly than I ever could."

And Sanguinius, tears visible in his eyes, walked straight forward and embraced the Warmaster.

"I can still sense your lies," he said with a slight smile, though the tears had not vanished. "And if you were not lying before, if you are still the same Horus as you always have been... then this choice between Imperial and renegade paths is no choice at all. I stand with you, brother Horus. Like always. Even if our father is gone."

Horus paused. "I was not lying to you," he said, "you know. About being Warmaster."

"Of course you weren't," Sanguinius said. "You were lying, like you always have been lying about this subject, to yourself."


Kharn paced his quarters like a caged animal. Every night, since the slaying of those who did not comply with the new order, and indeed intermittently since the modification of the Butcher's Nails, he had begun to receive recurring dreams of a mighty being, encased in bronze armour and sitting on a brass throne atop a mound of skulls. Blood flowed all around him, and all manners of warriors saluted the being, yelling chants in his honour. He had begun to experience waking visions too; everywhere he went, he saw this being calling him, and not just him, but also his battle brothers too.

Every World Eater he had asked had mentioned seeing this deity in their dreams; and not only was he calling to them, showing them the path of the warrior, but he seemed to know each and every one of them by name, including their heritage and their battle honours. It was as if he was calling to them, with pride and martial honour, something the other Legions knew nothing about. None of them had ever been thrown into the fires by their Primarch like the World Eaters. How many worlds had they brought into compliance, how many worlds had they punished in the Emperor's name, and how many of them had fallen in the process?

And yet, they were still the barbarians of the Legions, the ones that everyone scorned and feared because of the implants, the berserkers that no one knew how to control but could use to their whims.

He let the growl leave his throat, as the anger of once again being (possibly) used by the other Primarchs. They were warriors, not jail wardens, and despite Angron's happiness at the Emperor's acceptance, Kharn felt that as much as the Emperor had given them with one hand, he had taken away with the other.

They needed to stop being pawns. They were World Eaters; and yet he let the voice enter his head once more, because it soothed him. Like all of his brothers that had chosen to follow the voice, he was beginning to find comfort in it, for it reminded him of his warrior nature and his martial honour.

He sank to his knees and banged his head against the wall as his implants started reacting to the voice in his head. Everything he knew as a warrior was becoming blurred into one murderous red haze; all he wanted was blood and bone, to place at his father's feet and at the throne of the being that called to him. He threw his head back and roared.

"Blood for Angron…Skulls for Angron…. Blood for the Blood God…. Skulls for the Skull Throne!"


"We could gain much from starting this war in secrecy," Horus said. "An unexpected strike against the Imperium; perhaps imitate a smaller rebellion via shock attack, then have a larger punishment fleet composed largely of renegade Legions..."

"No shadows," Roboute Guilliman contradicted. "Not for myself, at least. The evidence we have seen was enough to convince Primarchs. Some subset of it could turn many guns to our cause, if we fight with honour. And a turned gun is worth two destroyed ones. Let us spread the truth, rather, throughout the worlds of the Imperium."

Horus nodded. "You are right, I suppose. A strategy of shadows would hurt us politically, in these circumstances, more than it would help us militarily. Perhaps some Legions should still pretend to delay their decision, though. To create an image of Primarchs flocking to our side. Either way, I would much prefer to have more information on what the Imperium is doing."

Magnus sat forward and clasped his fingers together. "Let me talk to the Urizen."

"Why?" Mortarion asked.

"Actually, yes." Horus moved around and placed a hand on Magnus's shoulder. "I am well-aware of how much Lorgar respects you and looks to you; after all, you were with Father when he discovered Lorgar."

"What will you find out?" Mortarion wanted to know.

"I was recalled to Terra," Magnus sighed, "and I disobeyed to come here… I doubt any other of the Primarchs not in this room would trust me with any information. But Lorgar will not lie to me, and we have a special trans-astropathic channel for such matters. I will find out anything I can, Mortarion."

"Do it, brother; then let us know what occurs."

The Crimson King blinked in surprise at the Death Lord calling him brother, in a non-accusatory tone, for the first time in years. Magnus got up; and to everyone's surprise, the Wolf King rose with him. "I will accompany you, Magnus. Lorgar cannot lie to you, no, but he could deceive you with truths; and I can smell such things." And, of course, Russ was worried about Magnus's sorcery; but by his tone, the Primarchs could tell that was not his primary consideration.

"As you wish, brother."

The two Primarchs walked out side by side, peacefully, and Alpharius allowed a rare smile to cross his face. "Well, who would have thought that?"

"Indeed," Jaghatai smirked.


The bridge crew of the Conqueror did not dare to utter a word, as Angron's constant presence was both terrible and intimidating. Like his sons aboard the vessel, some change had occurred in the Primarch's mind, and the human crew were well-aware of the chained violence within the Primarch even in better times. What they did not like now was that it had become so much more then that; and as the Red Angel paced the length of the bridge, they kept their eyes on their work, unwilling to meet his gaze for fear of being on the end of this redoubled rage that was bubbling under the surface of the Primarch's eyes.

The vox commander nervously handed a data slate to the watch officer, who saw it was for Angron's eyes only. Swallowing his fear, he turned to where the hulking figure of the Lord of the World Eaters stood. He walked over and bowed low.

"For your eyes, Lord."

Angron grunted and took the slate; he accessed the information and read the contents, then turned to where Kharn stood.

"It seems that we are to be unleashed once more." The smile that crossed his face was feral and bloodlustful. "Magnus has defied the Emperor, and we have been ordered to teach him a lesson"

Despite himself, Kharn smiled a little at the thought of being unleashed against brother Astartes. "What do we do?"

"We are to destroy his power base at Prospero, and take the witches back to Terra for the Emperor's needs."

"And if they refuse?"

"We kill them all. Head for Prospero with all speed, Kharn; and let the other vessels know. We are unleashed."

"Yes, Lord."

Angron finally sat down and re-read his orders. This was not another Maragara, or some such game of deceit; merely a war, the most bloody one possible.

Yes, this was more like it.


The smell of arcana assaulted Leman Russ's nostrils, and he snorted distastefully. The room itself was arranged in what appeared to the Wolf King to be an eternal spiral, with Magnus in the centre. They had returned to the Thousand Sons' vessel in silence, and moved through the Photep to Magnus's private stronghold together, much to the surprise of the Thousand Sons aboard.

They were overjoyed to see their father; but when they saw their uncle, trepidation gnawed at them. There had long been distrust and something between apathy and rancor between the two Legions. To see the Wolf King accompany their father, as a brother in arms and not an executioner or a hateful rival, was indeed a story to be told when they returned to Prospero.

When he had entered the room, Magnus had told Leman to remain where he was. They could have gone through the Astropathic choir, but both brothers had agreed that it was not a good idea to let the choirmaster (or anyone else) know what was going on just yet. It was hard enough for the Primarchs to comprehend; for mortals, it would be devastating. Besides, the Choir would be too slow.

Magnus asked Russ to remain silent at all times; should there be any subterfuge that he could smell or sense that might otherwise bypass the Crimson King, then he was to tell him when the communion was over. Lorgar, Magnus suspected, would be much less forthcoming if he knew he was talking to two primarchs and not one.

Russ agreed; and although he did not feel comfortable in these surroundings, he stuck to his oath. In truth, despite his very real revulsion, he also felt a hint of fascination about what he was witnessing.

Magnus closed his eyes and took himself through the Enumerations required for his task, an exercise that came as easily to him as a babe taking its mother's milk. His sons were all powerful psykers, but in their own proficiency; the Crimson King was the master of all. He allowed his mind to travel the Great Ocean and seek out the light he wanted.

Russ looked around himself and, drawing his sword, held it tight. He had heard tales of what lurked in the Warp from his own Stormseers, and he decided it was better to be his brother's guardian in this. He kept his own thoughts within him, though, lest he disturb Magnus in any way.

The air in the sanctum of the Infidus Imperator cackled; Lorgar raised his head from prayer as the smell of brimstone and power reached his nostrils. A smile crept across his face as he recognised the signature not of his father, but of one who was closer than most thought to his father's power.

Indeed, Magnus's raw talent was vaster than Lorgar could measure; but his experience in using it was millennia behind the Emperor's.

"Hello, Magnus." Lorgar rose to his full height. "How long I have waited for you to make your appearance! We have much to discuss."

Magnus materialised fully in the Primarch's sanctum, and took a look at the banners that now hung from the vaulted ceilings. The Word Bearer Hosts, of course, and the various divisions within them. A quill with a drop of blood on the nib, an open hand with an eye in the palm, a burning book and a sceptre with a crowned skull. But placed in the centre was the Aquila, and next to it, other banners that Magnus had seen in visions too terrifying for any except one of Magnus's mind. And one of them...

No. That bargain was in the past. His Legion was saved, and he would yet save himself.

"What have you done, brother?" Magnus asked as he took in the sights around him. "Father is no god."

Lorgar shook his head. "That's been the trouble, Magnus; oh my most beloved brother, you, with a mind that is second only to our sacred father, should see that he has accepted his destiny."

Magnus arched a transparent eyebrow. "And who else has fallen for this big lie, Lorgar?"

"Lie? This is no lie, Magnus; Father returned from his travels to accept his role in the grand scheme of things. Even now, people in the Imperium are accepting our father is a god and are building temples in his name. All he wants is for you to return home to take up your rightful place. All of us are gods, after all, in mortals' eyes." Lorgar altered his cadence a little. "Brother, Dorn, Angron, Curze, el'Jonson, Manus, Fulgrim and Vulkan accept this is the way of things." All those that Magnus had seen in that fragment of a vision, plus Vulkan, whom he had seen something unclear about.

"What happened to Vulkan and his sons, Lorgar?"

Lorgar chuckled. "Oh, Magnus, he made a decision that had to be made, hard as it was to accept. It is one that you will soon have to make, you and the others. We are the champions of the quintet of gods. No longer will the Astartes and their fathers be held to ransom by the Mechanicum, for instance: the Iron Hands control Mars."

Magnus narrowed his eyes. "You think that Ferrus controlling Mars will bring the Mechanicum to heel? Then you are sorely mistaken. Mars is but one Forge World. All this is not the proper way of things, Lorgar; I warned you, decades ago, not to look for answers in the Great Ocean. There are things that reside in there that will lie and cheat their way into your heart, and even a Primarch cannot resist the call forever." Even, it seemed, an Emperor.

"You do not understand, Magnus; Father rules in the Warp, and the other gods within smile upon us all. You, who have sought the workings of the Great Ocean, should know not all beings within are malevolent; they wish only to embrace us and guide us as the natural rulers of the universe. Father has agreed; even now, great temples rise up in his and the gods' names, and people flock to worship the Emperor and his sons."

Magnus heaved a sigh and lowered his gaze. "Oh Lorgar, my most favoured brother, this is a road to ruin; and I fear you have been blinded."

"Blinded? I have never been blinded." Lorgar set his mouth straight. "I have always had my eyes open." He walked around his sanctuary, pointing to newly painted frescos on his vaulted walls. "For millennia upon millennia, humans have worshipped a myriad of gods and goddesses, deities for every aspect of their life, from hunting to the Sun. For hundreds of years they worshipped a man as the son of their dominant god, and soon that faith became the most powerful…"

"I am well aware of the religious history of old Terra, Lorgar; and I am, apparently unlike you, aware of the folly it brought, the wars and deaths when religions clashed. This is what is going to happen: those that side with Father will be corrupted into one or the other gods' service, especially Angron and Curze, who have no real love for the Emperor."

Lorgar laughed. "Oh, brother, that was the past; Angron and Konrad have come to peace with Father and are enacting his will, taking his word to the Imperium in the Great Crusade's new direction." His expression soured. "But you will never join us, even if I tell you that the other path leads to your destruction. I am sorry, Magnus, but this was our last hope. The order has been signed, and I cannot take it back, given the path you have chosen. You are too far from your home to save it - Isstvan, no? - but I owe it to our vanished friendship to tell you. Prospero will burn, Crimson King. The Twelfth Legion has been sent to punish your Legion for its disobedience."

Magnus picked something up in the current of Lorgar's thoughts; and like a thunderbolt, his mind was assaulted by the image of the entire World Eater fleet, heading towards Prospero.

"What have you done, Lorgar?!" he seethed.

"Father believes you should pay for disobeying him; and he has sent Angron to bring your Legion to heel. This is the end, my friend. Prospero burns."

Magnus vanished to Lorgar's gaze, sad but resolute.

Russ hurried forwards and caught his brother as he fell forward, his soul retuning to his body.

"Steady, brother."

"Prospero… oh by the Ocean, they have sent Angron to Prospero!"

Russ snarled and spoke into his vox feed. "All sons, this is your father and your uncle; we head to Prospero." He looked back at his brother. "The rest of the Rout and the Thousand Sons will join us; we will try and save your world, brother."

"But we will be late... yet not too late, I would wager, to avenge the dream." Magnus got up. "Angron is not known for taking prisoners unless he has to; so if I can't kill him, then I will die with my sons."

"Magnus, that is nonsense."

"Promise me, Russ, on your oath, that if we arrive after the Twelfth Legion, you will let me deal with Angron and not interfere."

Russ snarled a little, but reluctantly gave his oath. "I recognise it is a matter of honour," he said after it. "But we will yet ride this storm, Magnus. If anyone can reach Prospero before Angron, it will be you, Crimson King. We will ride this storm, and we will survive it. Until the new dawn."

"Until the dawn," Magnus accepted.