It was nighttime. Underneath the burning stars alight upon the Holy Terran sky lay the ruins of an ancient temple upon one of the few patches of clear ground upon the whole planet. This temple and its plateau was sacred, for it dated back to the time of the Great Crusade. A simple lightless hallway, its roof long collapsed, its columns bone white against the calm night sky. There were twenty pedastals but only nine were occupied by nine tall statues as lifelike as the day they were carved.

The primarchs. They were his only company as he moved through the simple, cross-shaped temple, his giant feet landing softly on the dirty flagstones underfoot. Dressed over his bright yellow power armor was a blood red cape. Upon his shoulder was the insignia of the Lamenters chapter.

Spectros of the Lamenters was meditating, though not in a way that many would call meditation. Like a golden ghost he moved through this lightless temple and thought of greater days: splendid, heroic, lost forever. His helmet lay in the middle of the temple, where the arms of the cross met. His bare lips recited a simple lament, which he had memorized centuries before.

"Nothing farther then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered, till I scarcely more than muttered 'Other friends have flown before'," Spectros stopped his melancholic recital to pause at the base of the statue of Sanguinius, who the Lamenters called their primarch. His youthful face smiled down, unassuming of the villainy that the statue opposite him would commit. Not even Spectros knew which statue it had been that had occupied the pedastal opposite Sanguinius. Even the name had been scratched away. Spectros briefly wondered if it had been Horus' image that had once faced this statue, before continuing onwards with both his meditation and his lament.

"On the morrow he will leave me just as my hopes have flown before," Spectros whispered to nobody. "Then the bird said…"

"[b]Nevermore[/b]"

His shock came not only from being interrupted but also by the voice itself. Deep, smooth, and almost commanding: a voice worthy of the primarchs themselves. But as Spectros scanned the air around him, searching its vacant emptiness for the giant or the Astartes who had spoken the word, which also happened to be the next word in his lament, he saw nothing but the faces of the three statues he stood near.

"Who was that?" Spectros asked calmly, "there is no need to skulk." His eyes then fell upon the only other living being that could have made the noise. It was a black bird, brazenly standing atop one of the statues, glaring down at him like it was an eagle and he was a rabbit. Its bright yellow eyes looked right through him as a humored smile broke his face.

"So, my lament has come into reality," Spectros muttered. He lost interest when the bird quit its perch and flew off into the night. Spectors paced about the temple, continuing his lament.

"Doubtless' said I 'What it mutters is only stock and store. Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster…'

"[b]Nevermore[/b]" spoke the voice once more. Spectors broke his meditation again to find the voice's source. The bird had returned, perched again upon the same statue. Spectros stood, transfixed under its gaze.

"Are you a prophet?" asked Spectros suddenly, "your words...what do they mean? Am I to follow you? Are you the Emperor's will? An omen?" Spectros had many questions to ask it. His answer was a nudge of the beak. The bird was either rubbing its nose against its left wing or it was pointing left. When it took off and flew left, Spectros followed it. Across the darkness he ran, across the rough landscape of this patch of empty ground. The black bird was visible in the air, flying slow enough to allow the Astartes to remain close.

The bird was leading him somewhere

…

[i]Here lies Usorckai and Usormaelach. Man and wife, true blooded of the Usor[/i]

Usoran's forgotten parents never had gotten a burial. When the Jara sacked their village, they left no one except Usoran himself who cared enough about the Usor to bury them. It brought Brother Usoran of the Dark Angels no feeling to see the gloomy headstone. But young Usoran Tabbercs of the Usor broke down and sobbed over it, hugging the cold stone as affectionately as he could if he were hugging his mother's waist. He pressed his face into the engraved words and let his tears trickle down the smooth stone. He slumped to his knees and cried into the ground that held his parents' bones. Around him, for as far as the eye could see, a city of headstones stood in rows upon rows across the sterile ground of this endless cemetery.

"[i]Do not cry my son,[/i[" said the soothing voice of Lion, suddenly standing over Usoran like a human eclipse. He bent down and seated himself beside the boy, though he did not touch him. He waited patiently alongside Usoran Tabbercs for a long time, as patient as a waiting lion. Usoran sat up at last, wiping his eyes, and looking at Lion with a tearstained face.

"Why?" asked Usoran. "Why did this have to happen? Why did those evil Jara men take it so far? It's not fair."

[i]It is the way the universe works, the price every beginning has," replied Lion. "I do not speak of Nurgle's philosophy. Nurgle would deny everything its existence between its blossoming and withering, a perversion of the natural order. I speak of the true natural order, of the laws of life and death.[/i]

"Who's Nurgle?" Usoran sniffled.

"[i]Ah, the innocence of a child,[/i]" sighed Lion.

"But…why? Why? I loved m…mother…father t…t…too…why?"

[i]Not everything has a definite meaning. This is something that some people go their whole lives without learning. The universe is harsh and life can be difficult at times, but you must find the strength to carry on,[/i] replied Lion. That didn't bring the orphan boy any comfort and he flopped back down and continued sobbing. The Lion continued to speak and though Usoran's crying was noisy he heard every word with crystal clarity.

"[i]Usoran, the Imperium is like a sickly old man lying upon his deathbed. His life is leaving him and soon he will be in his grave, under a headstone. It is the nature of things, the law of life and death. The Imperium was born and it has lived. Now it will complete its life of thirteen thousand years. But take heed, for forces that are not the work of nature threaten the very universe. Chaos has no place in the natural order and it even now closes in around the Imperium to claim it and fill the Materium with unending suffering.[/i]" Young Usoran didn't understand. "[i]You must find the strength to defeat it. You may not save the Imperium but you will save the universe.[/i]"

"I don't want to fight!" Usoran shrieked, "I don't want to fight your battles! I want my mother, I want my father! Go away! Go away!" He stood up to challenge Lion, but found the man had disappeared. In his place stood a single headstone, standing beneath a statue of an angel. Upon its surface was a double-headed eagle: the name of the person intered beneath it.

"[i]Next to the power of chaos, you are only a child. You cannot overcome chaos itself, it is as much a part of you as your body. Only with the death of the Imperium will it be gone forever. To defeat it, you need only deny chaos its prize.[/i["

"Holy Terra," said Usoran of the Dark Angels. He looked around the empty cemetery. He looked down at his parents' headstone, which seemed so small beneath his astartes build. He winced, thinking about how he'd behaved towards it moments ago. He resolved not to tell any of his battle brothers about how the primarch made him cry, even if it was a dream. "No, primarch you are wrong. I do not need to bury the Imperium to destroy chaos. I can slay its champions, push its taint back to the Eye of Terror and purge the unclean. The Imperium has ruled the stars for over ten thousand years. We can beat the dark powers. When chaos gives all its strength to attack Terra, we can destroy it. But not even that will come to pass: for we chall defeat it here, upon the despoiler's daemon worlds."

"[i]That is the very reason why I have called you to me my son. The despoiler is not headed for Holy Terra,[/i]" replied Lion El'Jonson's voice.

…

Odeen regarded the distant tower with all the disdain that his chapter was famous for. It stood brazenly out like a spire to evil even under the punishing horizontal rain that the basalisks were throwing in its direction. Every shot they took exploded against an invisible shield, generated by some chaotic magic. Thus, the tower stood where it was behind a moat of fire while the vulture-thing stood atop it mocking the invaders.

The siege was barely underway and already Odeen was concerned. The tower's shields seemed invulnerable. An evil force no doubt gave them their power. Already, three sanctioned psykers amongst the guardsmen had been possessed by the tower's taint. When around it, men fell asleep and never woke up while others claimed to hear voices coming from the tower's direction. All these complaints and the rumors they sparked had to be surpressed by the shout of a commissar (or his pistol in a few cases).

"Brother Odeen?" Jdell asked. From his positon atop the earthworks that were part of the trench network the Imperial Guard had occupied, Odeen looked down at the younger Space Wolf. His yellow-blonde hair still looked glossy and civilized, not like the rough powdered colour of Odeen's own hair. Jdell would have to harden up or risk being culled from the pack.

"What?" Odeen replied over the roar of the artillery batteries that lay further down the line.

"You are summoned…sir," Jdell answered. Odeen mouthed the word "sir." Jdell still had to shake off the customs of the Imperial Guard. "Immediately."

"Who is it that summons a Space Wolf without any…" Odeen scoffed and shook his head. "This damned situation cannot get worse. Who is it?"

"A Dark Angel captain. He asked for you by name, sir."

"By Russ' teeth, it IS worse," Odeen stomped his foot in rage. "Why would one of those Dark Angel defeatists beg for me?" Odeen suddenly grew suspicious. "A captain?" Odeen followed Jdell back to the command outpost. He passed by a fresh daemonic accident on the way: a stretcher covered with bloody meat and pieces of a flak jacket. A priest was already burning it.

Odeen was led to a Dark Angel's thunderhawk which bore all the markings of the one that had saved him from the Alpha Legion. His suspicions were confirmed at last when he entered it to find a familiar face inside the primary troop compartment. Usoran looked grim, even for a Dark Angel. He was whispering a prayer under his breath as Odeen approached him with Jdell. Odeen looked around the empty thunderhawk and then back at Usoran, who politely dismissed Jdell. The lesser marine saluted like a guardsman and left the two alone.

"Jdell," Odeen replied flatly, "nevermind him…"

"I need your help Odeen, I need your help convincing your chapter to come with me. Some of my chapter listened to me and will accompany me for the journey. I need your help now. I think the Space Wolves are the only ones who believe strongly enough in the primarchs to accept what I have learned from my visions," Usoran said. Odeen narrowed his eyes. He was speaking as fast as he could.

"Are you asking for my help?" Odeen asked.

"I saved your life. By rights, you owe me a favor," replied Usoran.

"Why should I help you? Why should the Space Wolves help you? We're busy with Krieg," Odeen snorted. "Go bother the Imperial Fists."

"I had another vision," Usoran said quickly, "the primarch, my primarch, came to me. He told me Abaddon wasn't headed for Holy Terra." Odeen rolled his eyes. This was thick, even for a Dark Angel.

"Of course he's not, he's hiding somewhere on one of these…"

"He told me Abaddon was already there. The final battle has already begun."

…

Over the surfaces of the twin worlds of chaos, conjoined as they were by their continental skins, the Imperial fleet dueled valiantly against the cloud of tyranid hiveships streaming up from the surface. They were like gnats, like locusts, like every category of swarming insect as the hiveships issued up towards the walls and formations of Imperial ships. Countless fell down like a fel rain onto the world below, bodies riddled with ordnance, but the seething teeming flocks of droneships glided ever onwards. From ship to ship, Imperial officers yelled orders to one another and summoned for aid. With a grim inevitability, the tyranid legions swarmed forth.

"SIR, DECK IS BREACH…"

"TARGET DESTROYED. NEXT ONE. NEXT ONE. WHERE THE HELL IS MY LANCE BATTERY?"

"IT'S COMING AT US"

"SIR FRESH WAVE OF DRONESHIPS RISING FROM THE SURFACE. WHAT? HOW CAN THEY POSSIBLY HAVE MORE?"

Asurmen sighed as he listened to the terrified human voices that his scry-crystal picked up. They came in, ever more fearful, as the tyranid swarm tore into their blockade. In the Hand of Asuryan, he felt safe. But the tyranids could not be afforded a single victory to swell their strength. The eldar had to intervene. The tyranids had done their job. Now their time had come to die, once and for all. Too many ships had been withdrawn from the chaos worlds to fight. One hundred ships, so Asurmen had heard. It weighted heavily on his heart to know that the crew of these ships represented one tenth of the last living eldar. The past few months had taken their gruesome toll.

From the cannon across the Hand of Asuryan, stars swept in towards the droneships of the hivefleet. Alien organisms turned to brown mist, splitting painfully apart and showering others with shards of bone the size of asteroids. Many of the aliens were shot in two, spilling greenish acid into the vaccume. Each passing heartbeat added more kills to the eldar ship's tally. Hovering over the conflict, the eldar were death given a deceptively beautiful form, like a viper. How, then, did they still have the numbers to keep coming?

'We cannot turn from this path,' Asurmen thought. He prepared to give the order for his ship to withdraw once the rest of the fleet arrived.

"Help us…help…" Asurmen shifted in disbelief and leaned into his scry-crystal. "Fuegan?" he asked.

"It is I," Fuegan's voice said from the crystal's vibrating depths. "The tyranids have ambushed my fleet. Our ground positions are overwhelmed. I must escape." There was no time. Asurmen would have to give the order to disengage and lock onto Fuegan's position. There was no time to lose. Like his own ship, Fuegan's flagship also carried a small webway portal.

…

The run was long and when Spectros saw where the creature led him, his eyes widened and he retreated back the way he came.

It had been a shallow valley, unremarkable but for the drop pods that had landed in it. They bore the mark of chaos. When he took a second look, he saw no sign of the friendly bird. It had either flown away or vanished. He was back at the temple moments later. Taking his helmet, he threw it on.

"Lamenters," Spectros said into the vox-bead in his helmet, "we are undone! Heretics have violated the sanctity of Holy Terra! To arms!" The vox network immediately sprang to life with the voices of other battle brothers, responding to his warning. Spectros moved to leave the temple, but paused and afforded a single glance back at the statues. He paused before the one the black bird had perched upon. Spectros bended his knee in thanks. It was the statue of Corax of the Raven Guard, whose last words had been the very words the bird had spoken.

"The Emperor's blessings to you, Corax," Spectros said. In the statue's stone hands was cupped a stone raven