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Horus sat alone in the reclusiam of the Divine Fury flagship, in hopes of finding a moment of peace before the arduous trek through the Warp began. Quiet was not peace, in fact it set a restlessness within him that he could not rid himself of. And so he plunged himself into whatever encouraging thoughts his mind could come up with. The burden of his tasks was heavy, he was grateful for so many allies who had come to help him shoulder it.
The Space Wolves, who had every reason to hate him for the turbulent years wrought by his mistakes, now joined banners with his crusade. There was the promise of their Primarch returning at last after thousands of years of absence, but their forgiveness had humbled him. Fenrisians were proud, and he would even go as far as to call them too arrogant to let room for forgiveness, but they have proven him wrong. For that reason alone, he would strive to fulfill his promise to them and bring their legion back to glory. Provided that they conclude their tantrums upon hearing their Chapter-Master's revelation of the true nature of their mission, one preferably on a good note.
There were also the sub-chapters, all hailing from shattered legions born in the latter years of the Imperium's scouring. They looked up to him as the epitome of redemption, for they too had sins to atone for. Horus did not care for the details nor did he judge them, he had no reason to. He would lead them, to have them live to see a brighter future in this grim universe.
And who could forget his very own legion, the Luna Wolves- the sons of Horus?
They had come so far, sacrificed their own mortality in order to take up the mantle as protectors of mankind. The Primarchs never had that choice, for they were created from birth to become leaders in their own right. Perhaps this was why the others despised the Emperor, for they felt they were robbed of the chance of free will. Perhaps it was, perhaps not. One thing was for sure, Horus claimed that purpose and that was why the only way Chaos took hold of him was through possession- for his love for the Imperium burned as bright as the Emperor himself.
Love...
Horus thought often of Celestine, the Angel of Cadia and Saint of the Emperor. She came to be in a manner not unlike the Primarchs themselves. She died, then was reborn through the power of the Golden Throne. Yet, she did not refuse the call- and instead embraced it fully. He admired her convictions, her zeal and her undying loyalty to mankind. He hoped and prayed she would never have to go through what he did, to suffer the agonizing shame of betraying his purpose.
She was, in many ways, better than he.
"My lord, forgive the intrusion..."
Horus' eyes snapped open, the peace he had longed for evaporated as soon as it appeared. He sighed, "Yes, Alduin?"
The Master of the Signal stepped into the hallowed chamber, "There is a message for you from the Eldar Prophetess Yvraine...she stands with a host of aeldari warships hidden within this sector, and she requests your presence for a meeting. She says it involves our quest to retrieve the Eldar goddess Isha."
She knew many things, dangerous things.
Horus smirked, knowing Yvraine's hesitance to appear outright within fenrisian space. As soon as the Space Wolves noticed her fleet they would undoubtedly open fire. How she arrived unscathed through Imperial territory just to gain an audience with him was flattering, and no less impressive. "Her efforts to gain my attention should be rewarded. However, did she say anything else?"
"None, my lord."
Horus rose up and went straight for the hangars, leaving the crusade in the capable hands of Maranda Goodwill, saying. "If our allies inquire of the reason of my absence, tell them I have gone to request additional support for the cause." That way, he offered adequate enough information without betraying anyone's trust and keeping another war from starting. "I won't be long, Admiral."
"Emperor protect you, milord."
"You're sure it is the one we seek?"
Yvraine threw Prince Yriel a sidewards glance, "I am not. That is why this meeting offers an opportunity for me to make certain of my speculations. Now, try not to embarrass yourself before the Mon'kei. He arrives within the hour."
Prince Yriel was an Eldar Autarch of the Iyanden Craftworld, High Admiral of the Iyanden fleet, High Admiral of the Eldritch Raiders Corsair fleet, and is widely considered to be the greatest Eldar naval genius to have ever lived. When Iyanden was facing destruction at the hands of Hive Fleet Kraken, Yriel returned from self-imposed exile with his Eldritch Raiders to save the Craftworld from becoming totally extinct. After being slain by a Greater Daemon of Nurgle, Yriel was resurrected by Yvraine through the power of the very Cronesword he wielded presently and in return offered himself as a servant of the Ynnari.
The Croneswords were five swords that according to the Eldar's legends, were carved from the finger bones of one of the Goddess Morai-Heg's hands. It was stated that the Crone Goddess of Souls and Fate lost the hand, when she sought the wisdom that flowed through her own veins and tricked the God Khaine, into cutting it off. When Khaine did so, Morai-Heg drank her own blood and assimilated the knowledge it contained, while the God Vaul gathered the Crone Goddess' discarded hand and carved its five fingers into the immensely powerful Croneswords. According to the legends, if the Croneswords of Morai-Heg are placed into the right hands, they will give their wielders dominion over life and death; while Yvraine, the Emissary of Ynnead, believes that possessing all five Croneswords will give her enough power to fully awaken her God. So far, she has found four of the five Croneswords, of which each of her allies now wielded in her name.
There was Kha-vir, the sword of Yvraine, which turns its victims into ash.
Asu-var, a weapon that absorbs its foes life essence. Now wielded by the Visarch.
Vilith-zhar, the largest and most powerful blade in her collection, was a shapeshifting blade forged in burning souls. Currently, the blade rests aboard her flagship, for none seemed to be able to wield a weapon that proved so cumbersome.
Then there was the Spear of Twilight, the weapon that the Prince Yriel now held.
She had yet to find the fifth Cronesword, a task that proved to be more difficult than the other four put together. Yvraine had her suspicions of that weapon in Horus' hands, the Soulrender. The very blade of it pulsated with an essence that transcends mortal origins. She felt it call to her in that short time she spent with the Mon'kei Primarch, and would find out soon enough if it was what she sought after all these years.
A single Thunderhawk, carrying the Primarch himself and a retinue of his finest warriors, appeared on the fleet's scanners. Yvraine had to smile at the apparent gesture of faith on Horus Lupercal's part, though that habitual feeling of condescension of the Mon'kei trusting the Aeldari nagged at the corners of her mind. She snuffed such thoughts away, knowing full well that Horus earned it better than any Mon'kei had in history.
"He marches on a fool's errand." The Visarch whispered, "No one who attempted to save Isha succeeded. How can a Mon'kei Primarch, even the greatest of them all, hope to be any different?"
"He might just surprise you." Yvraine answered, "It's not everyday you hear of a dead man coming back to life, and accomplish these many feats in a short amount of time."
The Primarch stood before the leaders of the Ynnari at the helm of six primaris Luna Wolves spacemarines. His men were noticeably more relaxed than before, a sure sign that the Luna Wolves understood their Primarch's take on their aeldari allies. His helm was removed, resting at his side as his hand held it against his hip. He had weathered the times well, remaining unchanged since the day she saw him in her visions. "Greetings, Prophetess."
"Welcome, Primarch Horus Lupercal. You're probably wondering why I have called for this meeting, now behold your answer." Yvraine beckoned for her servants to usher in the artifact that would prove to be the most important element in Horus' quest. The Emissary of the Ynnari opened the gilded chest and brought out a beautiful rose whose petals glistened pink with life, and whose thorns strangely remained absent on its stem. This, she carried towards the Primarch and laid it upon his open palm.
"A flower?" Horus' brow arched, unsure at the meaning of the gift. The corner of his lip twitched into an amused smirk. "I...I'm flattered."
Yvraine was taken aback for a moment, then leaned her head back and laughed. It was a mirthful sound, not the forced kind, and her entourage looked up at her in surprise. They had never heard her utter such a sound, having been used to her grim and serious demeanor. "Oh no, that is not the gift's purpose at all! This is the Rose of Isha said to grow where the Eldar Goddess Isha walked in the mortal realm. It will allow you and your allies safe passage through the Realms of Nurgle in order for you to reach your prize."
"Oh." Horus beheld the artifact, awed by the psychic energies that emanated from it. He then regarded Yvraine curiously and asked, "You do not object to the nature of my quest? Isha is your goddess, one of the few remaining of her kind since the Fall of the Eldar Empire...surely you mean to seize whatever chance you have to bring her to safety?"
"We do not object, Primarch. Believe me, I have gone through these same thoughts more times than I care to count, and I have come to the best decision. We, the Eldar, have doomed our gods to the Warp when we birthed She-Who-Thirsts into existence. We do not deserve the chance at redemption. The visions have guided me to the best outcome, I know she will be in better hands."
"Then I thank you." Horus replied, "But you are wrong to think your hour of redemption has passed. Come with me, help us save Isha and together we can-
"I must respectfully refuse." Yvraine said firmly, "The Rose will be help enough, we the Ynnari have our own purpose here." The Ynnari had another god to save, and Yvraine meant what she said that Isha was in good hands. The Emperor of Mankind would put her to good use, and with his return the Imperium would be restored. With humanity resurrected, the aeldari would rise along with them. That was the vision.
And so she must part.
"I see." Horus did not press the issue further, "If there's nothing else, I and my men will take our leave."
"Wait, Primarch." Yvraine said, "There is one more thing."
The Prophetess approached him and pointed at his spear, "May I see that weapon?"
Horus regarded her again with a quizzical expression, but did as she asked. The Soulrender gleamed in the light of the fenrisian sun, and Yvraine ran her hands over the shaft and upon the clear blade above. The godspear shone once more, revealing its true self for the first time to all who witnessed. The spear morphed and changed, shedding the Imperial covering that the Emperor had made, and became the Cronesword that Yvraine sought after! The blade was smaller than she expected, owing to the fact that the original was shattered in the battle against Abaddon, but nevertheless existed.
"What have you done?" Horus asked.
Yvraine wasn't listening, "The finger of Morai-Heg! The Cronesword has been found at last!" She turned to Horus, her excitement evident in her gaze. "You have no idea what you've held all this time, Primarch." This event changes everything, with all five Croneswords the Ynnari would be able to fulfill their purpose and awaken the slumbering god Ynnead!
"I need that spear back." Horus said firmly. "Without it, I am sorely lacking in the battles to come."
Yvraine was sorely tempted to whisk the spear away, content that she had left the Rose with the Primarch. Now they had both what they wanted, but if she did as she planned at the moment she would risk making an enemy of the Lupercal- something she knew would prove to be a most foolish choice indeed. She would be no better than her stagnating brethren, and so Yvraine chose to take the higher path.
She returned the spear, restoring its previous form as she handed it back to Horus. "As you wish..."
The Ynnari council looked on with seething expressions as the Luna Wolves, and their Primarch, boarded their Thunderhawk and left the fleet behind them. They had given much, and returned with nothing.
"You should not have returned it, without it we will never fulfill our mission!" Prince Yriel whispered harshly.
"I am well aware." Yvraine answered, mind still reeling from the realization of her actions. "It will be ours in due time, just not today."
"What do you suppose that was about, my Primarch?"
"Something consequential, I suppose. No matter, we have what we need now. If Yvraine wishes to discuss the exchange of the Soulrender from me she would have to wait until I return to realspace with both my brother Leman Russ and the Goddess Isha." Horus answered, keeping a tighter grip on his spear after that strange parting with the Ynnari Prophetess. He lifted up the Rose and whispered to it, "Now you, perform as promised." The Rose, in turn, responded as if it could hear the Primarch's words and cast a beautiful shower of glittering lights that spread from the bridge of the Divine Fury and into the surrounding ships of the Lupercalian Crusade.
"Admiral, initiate jump sequence and direct it at the coordinates I tell you." Horus said, then turning to broadcast a fleet-wide vox-message. "Brothers and sisters in arms, today we make the bold trek through the Realm of Chaos to retrieve the only means we shall ever have to resurrect my father. Make no mistake, this is another kind of war entirely, for we now will fight the forces of evil on their own territory. Be vigilant, be wary, and above all- trust in the Emperor's will."
"For the Imperium of Man!" The Space Wolves howled.
"The Emperor Protects!" The Sub-Chapters replied.
"Onward." Horus commanded, and the rifts opened before the voidships to send them on their way. As soon as they entered the Warp, the Lupercalian Crusade was immediately met with the strong resistance of the becalming straits of despair, stirred to life by the collective psychic influences of every living being in the galaxy.
Horus glared through the shields of the bridge, and his lips tightened into a single, thin line.
They were committed now, the only way through it all was forward. And so forward did they go.
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