He paced the walls of the mighty, nearly world-spanning palace, his golden armour glinting in the watery sunlight. Those mortals who worked along the many miles of the Imperial Palace scuttled out of his way, not wanting to look upon the darkened face of the Regent. Where once he was revered as a hero amongst the heroes, a Primarch equal in affection to Sanguinius and Horus, his name exalted in high places, now he had become as feared as he was respected. His mighty, gold-clad warriors stood guard at every point on the wall, and those that were not guarding the governing center of mankind were guarding the surrounding systems, against the alien and, more relevantly, against the heretic.

His black-and-white-clad sons were feared in a different measure. Many human worlds feared the wrath of the Templars, for they were often sent to quell rebellion and when they did so, they did it without hesitation. According to the rumours, there were no innocents in their eyes, only the children were spared, to become the future of the Templars, Imperial Fists and Custodes. Lord High Marshal Sigismund, it was said, was the exemplar of the creed of the Templars. The former First Captain of the mighty Imperial Fists, brash and headstrong, would face any enemy head-on, charge into impossible situations, and come out on top, no matter what the stature of the enemy. It had been whispered that Angron was holding Sigismund as an example of his own doctrines.

Dorn was nonplussed about all this, even though the official reports were rather more restrained than the wild rumours he couldn't help overhearing. Nevertheless, he acknowledged the Black Templars' work as necessary. Sigismund was purposefully reckless, but to the Praetorian's way of thinking, he had never been defeated, so that recklessness had not surmounted acceptability. All in all, his intense belief in the Emperor and his son made him not only the ideal choice to be the Emperor's Champion, but the Chapter Master of a Chapter designed wholly around the edicts of the Imperial Creed. But most of all, Sigismund was not one for sitting back while the Imperium burned, even to defend Terra, and neither were the Astartes that Dorn had placed under his command. It was for that reason that the Black Templars had been sent on permanent crusade, to root out out the heretic legions of his brothers who would not follow their father. So far the Templars had succeeded abundantly in this mission.

Despite this, Dorn was changing. He did not follow any one Chaos God, and truth be told he followed none of them. They held nothing for him: he did not hold truck with any daemons and he despised the idea of one of his sons becoming one of them. Let Lorgar and the others deal with the denizens of the Warp, but the only masters his sons would have were the Emperor, himself, and their superiors.

But at night, he was plagued by dreams, dreams that would have him waking in a cold sweat, A being that was undefinably unlike anything he had before seen whispered words into his mind, telling him that he was more than his father, more than those brothers who fed their souls to Chaos. He was something more than that, it said, with the potential to become the greatest scion of the future. It would be a world without Chaos, without the games of power, a world which he could craft according to his will. He would wake bolting with the face of the being that was neither name or beast in his eyes, half black and half white. The name had not been revealed to him, but he was not sure he wanted to know, for fear that it would drive him deeper into the presence's madness.

He stood on the ramparts and overlooked Albia, a land from which some of his own sons had come, and he pulled his cloak around himself. The day was a poor one - cold, wet, and windy - and the year was little better. Rogal Dorn did not like the way this was turning out, he did not like the idea of daemons being part of the Legions, and some part of him couldn't help but think his father had gone about this transformation the wrong way. Now, if his own spies were to be believed, Curze was off on some secret mission into a zone long since forbidden. To do what, he did not know, but it was at his father's command, and that was enough.

The voice echoed in his mind once more, telling him that like himself, Curze did not truck with daemons. He had no time for the Chaos Gods, for he did not care; he was a renegade, not from the Imperium but from the universe, and in that perhaps the two brothers were more alike than they cared to believe. It was a subtle thought but one that, for once, Dorn did not laugh at or dismiss out of hand. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, deep in thought. He cared little for the pantheon, he was a warrior and the lord of Terra... but then, what mattered was not what he wanted to be but what he had to be.

And what he had to be was something to balance out the power play...

The Planet of Storms was aptly named. Electrical storms lashed the skies like some neon dance, every now and then striking out to touch the land below, sending electrical sparks rolling away. Hurricane-force winds battered the land and seas into a constant frenzy and, as the Stormbird decked in the midnight blue and single-winged skull icon of the Night Lords flew overhead, lightning sparked off its hull in places, making it look more fearsome then it already did.

It circled the area that it had been ordered to scout out and descended into a rock-covered valley. The shipmaster had pinpointed this area as the only place he could find with some shelter from the ferocity of the storms. As such, it was the closest place to safe for the Shadow Warriors to move about without fear of being electrocuted or blown into the jagged rocks that littered the landscapes.

The Shadow Warriors moved into protective positions, areas that were safe enough for them but that retained a view of their surroundings. They heard the whine of another Stormbird but did not break their concentration. Only when they were certain that all was clear did they focus their attention on the Stormbird as it landed. As the occupants alighted, they moved to one knee and bowed their heads, not daring to look until ordered.

The Axemaster came down first, his bolter swinging left and right, followed by the Prince of Crows, and finally came the master of the night himself. A small contingent of the Second Company followed them. Incara kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground, her heart hammering in her chest, and when a claw lightly touched her shoulder she thought she might faint at the honour.

"Rise, my child," the voice softly spoke. "You and your warriors need not bow in my presence, for you are mine."

Incara and her squad rose to their feet and straightened themselves up. Their left arms came across their breastplates in salute before they stood at ease.

"We are in the right area, First Captain?" The Primarch turned his attention to his favoured son.

"According to the historian, aye, lord." Sevatar nodded and looked around, tutting under his breath as he ordered the last member of the landing team to get out here. Uncertainly, the terrified man emerged. He wore protective armour, but to Incara and her squad, he looked like prey surrounded by predators.

Polarick had never been here, never set foot on any of Urashan's rocky soil, but as he came onto the surface of the planet of storms his mind was assaulted by memories that were not his. It was these memories that had forced him to live in a world of seclusion, never staying in one place for fear of being thrown into a mad house or captured by those out for revenge. Unlike the Sons of Hades, not every loyal son of the Storm Riders had died, and not all the survivors had joined the Legions of their uncles. Where the Storm Riders might have vanished to, not even the Emperor knew, but over the years his father and father's father had the uncanny feeling they were being watched or followed. That did nothing to ease their lives.

Curze cocked his head a little as the human fell to his knees, his hands to his head, mouth wailing. Had the mortal gone mad? What was he seeing here that was causing him such distress? Incara and Captain Justmier helped the Keeper of Shadow stand. Krieg glanced at the Captain. She was a brave woman, no matter that her lieutenant often had field command. Justmier was not a youngster any more, after all, and Incara was her protégée. She was handing the reigns over and preparing to fight her last. He had to respect her for that self-awareness.

"Pull yourself together, man," Justmier snarled. "You are in the presence of the master of the night himself. Do not soil yourself in his presence or I will cut out your spleen and make you eat it!"

The First Captain chuckled as his hearing picked up what she had just said, even though she had all but whispered it in Polarick's ear.

"The images," he moaned. "I cannot take it!"

"You will endure," she barked. "You are human, not some snivelling xeno cretin; enduring it will make you stronger!"

"What images?" the Primarch ordered. "Tell me what you see!"

Polarick whimpered and almost lost his footing once more. If it were not for the two women holding him he might well have. A painful squeeze on his arm made him yelp. Incara had no time for snivellingm whiners. The only reason she did not kill him where he stood was because he was important to the Night Haunter. Polarick yelped, but the pain shooting up his arm made his fear retreat for a moment. His eyes glazed over white and the two Shadow Warriors let go, backing away for a moment, their pistols raised, believing themselves in the presence of a witch. Acerbus steadied them and shook his head.

++Easy, sisters; he is no witch, not in the sense you understand. He is a keeper of the Emperor's greatest secret, his mind altered to accommodate the information he has been passed.++

The two women relaxed, but they were still uneasy around the now taller-standing Polarick. Curze folded his arms across his chest. He may not have been as broad as Angron or Russ, and his whole physiology made him look nearer death than even his brother Mortarion, but he still cut a powerful figure. Black hair framed pale features, deep eyes held the promise of endless torment for those who opposed him, and he stood with all the pride befitting a son of the Emperor. Yet even here, watching the silenced mortal, he was struck by the sheer power that glowed around the man. Certainly his father knew what he was doing to the line of Fenrisians who bore this burden. He certainly understood the madness that came with it. Polarick was young for a human, but he would age quickly. In a way, he hoped the mortal had no children to pass this onto, for they would certainly endure the same life their sire had. To be blunt about it, that was no life for a mortal who was neither psyker nor Astarte.

He waited patiently as the human walked around the clearing, seemingly guided by whatever he was seeing in his head. Polarick was searching for something... no, not searching... watching. It was like he was a scout watching, and watching of all things the skies above as the storm struck its fury once more. He walked around, touching the cliff-face behind them, before suddenly stopping. Moving his hand over a lever, he opened a door in the rock.

"They retreated through here. They needed to get to their Primarch, to protect him from the Eater of Worlds and his hounds." Polarick's voice sounded distant. "The Eater of Worlds wanted to claim their father's head before the Wolf King. The Wolf King was calling for surrender, while the Eater of Worlds wanted only death and blood."

Sevatar glanced at his father. "It would seem Angron has been keeping secrets himself."

"So it would seem, my son," Curze mumbled. "So it would seem... let's move. Get the Shadow Warriors out of this storm. We will be lucky, they might not be so."

Uneses watched his captain pace his quarters. He paused a couple of times to look at his sergeant, then resumed his pacing. He had sent a message to the Raven-Lord of what had happened, and was told to hold position. That was just as well, becausse it was clear Uneses and his revelation that he had been born on that seething world of storms had shocked Shierek to the core.

"You were a Storm Rider?" he finally asked. Uneses nodded but said nothing. "You were a rider of storms, the Legion that betrayed the Emperor!"

"We did not betray the Emperor," Uneses barked. "He betrayed us."

"Well, we're all at war with him now either way, so it's not like it matters. How did he do that?"

"He -" Uneses swallowed his anger. "I am forbidden to speak of it."

"And he does well not to." Both Astartes turned to see Corax come into the captain's chamber and immediately moved to one knee. He bid them rise and closed the door behind him. "Where are the Night Lords?"

"Planet surface, lord," Shierek told his father.

"Then get a team together; let's give my brother a surprise he won't forget. Uneses, a word in private."

"Yes, my lord."

Corax waited until they were alone and turned to face the former Storm Rider. "I want to know everything you know about that day, no holding back; the future of all we know will depend on it. I want to know where the secrets of the Riders are kept, fast. Believe me, my son, if Curze gets there first, then this current madness will grow worse still."

Uneses swallowed. "On one condition, Uncle." Corax arched an eyebrow. "I go with you. I want to save my legacy and my home from that crawling death-dealer."

Corax nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "Certainly. Now begin."

Shierek moved through the barracks a little annoyed. Of course it was an honour to have the Raven-Lord aboard his vessel, but why was he not informed of the Primarch's arrival, to have time for a suitable welcome, or at least an unsuitable one? Surely someone had the wits about them to inform the master of the ship that someone as vaunted as Corvus Corax was aboard his ship. This was the Primarch of the Raven Guard, for crying out loud... you could not mistake him for a normal Astarte.

"Corax never breaks protocol, not like this," he spoke aloud. "What idiot didn't tell me the Primarch was aboard?"

"He didn't want anyone to know he was aboard until it was too late to do anything about it." A deep voice behind him made him stop and turn, realizing in an instant just how distracted he was. Branne Nev stepped out of the shadows and stood before the Captain of the 61st Company.

"My lord." The beleaguered captain bowed his head at the presence of the Second Captain, one if Corax's inner circle.

"Forget that, Anteau, let's walk." The two men fell into step. "I apologise on behalf of our father; he does not like leaving his sons in the dark, but with a Night Lords vessel nearby, he could not risk them being alerted to his presence by radio chatter. We came in maximally cloaked, to the far side of the moon, and teleported across. A most... disconcerting way to travel, I must say."

Shierek shook his head. "Branne, what is going on?"

The Second Captain glanced at Shierek, and his voice took on a solemn cadence. "Digging up old ghosts and preventing their memories and sacrifices from being used for the cause of madness."

Uneses was silent for a long time. Corax let him gather his thoughts. He was returning to a place in his memories that he had been forbidden to return to. Corax felt for his adopted son, for his whole life and identity had been changed yet again.

"The people of Sturmgarten, or Urashan as others of its inhabitants called it, lived deep within cave complexes, like those on Calth. The weather patterns make it too dangerous to remain above ground for too long. When there are seasonal breaks, there are months of peace, enough to grow a harvest, but the storms always return.

"The seas swirl with the anger of the storms and the lightning strikes with more voltage than some gas giants. When Adonnas landed here, he should have been struck dead by the storms, but instead he seemed to absorb the lightning and calm the weather. Now I know that it was his own psychic abilities; he was what I suppose others, in days past, would call a shaman." Uneses shrugged and paused. Corax waited for the sergeant to continue - he knew the beginning of Adonnas's story already, but he knew Uneses needed time to center his thoughts on the matter at hand.

"He tamed our people, carved out a great underground city safe from every aspect of the storms. He brought the clans under one banner and he ruled as a warlord, worthy of our love and respect, so when the Emperor came it was only natural that we in turn would follow the father of our father. We would do so for less than two decades."

"So were Adonnas and Charion of the same opinion?" Corax asked. "Is that why they rebelled against the rule of the Emperor?"

"I cannot answer that question, lord. My father and Lord Charion only ever met twice. Once on the field of battle against the Inargur; the second time in private, behind closed doors, without their bodyguards. What I do know is that, after that meeting, my lord was wary around the Emperor, even before the Sons of Hades were purged, though he never spoke out against the Emperor in public."

Corax nodded and rubbed his jaw. "So what happened the day of the banishment?"

Uneses wrung his hands and, for the first time in a long time, sorrow for his old brothers crossed his face. "The Wolf King told us to lay our arms down, for our father to come peacefully. He did not want it ending the same way it had with the Sons of Hades. My father told Lord Russ that he was the one mistaken, that the Emperor was a being who was long corrupt, in times before even the Primarchs' existence, when Terra was more than she is now."

"What did he mean?"

"I do not know, Lord Corax. The Wolf King did not have a chance to answer, because the Red Angel himself came to ground. He said he was taking command and, if the Storm Riders did not surrender, then we would all be executed to the last man and serf for violating the Emperor's edicts - we had not, then, even been told which ones. The Wolf King was incensed by this usurpation of what he saw as his mission, but it would not do at that point to show any disagreement between the two brothers."

Corax knew that too, and he could only imagine the emotions coursing through the Wolf King at Angron's words. Russ was a proud man, a warrior directed by his code of honour and his strength of arms. There was no love lost between the Wolves of Fenris and the World Eaters; what they had in common was the fact they were exterminators. Both Legions were sent in when there was minimal diplomacy to be had.

"So how did those who were amalgamated into the other legions survive?"

"The Chapter Novitiates, Scouts, and younger Astartes were told to surrender into the hands of the Wolf King. I was also told by the First Captain to go; I did not want to, for despite my youth I bore the ape sigil of the First Company, but First Captain Klyne told me that some of us have to survive, to remember the legacy and fight for the Legion's honour, even if we were forbidden to talk of it. Six thousand of us were amalgamated into other Legions. The rest died on Sturmgarten. I watched as my father, having trapped Russ and his vanguard with a rockfall, was struck through by Angron, a fist clean through his chest, his hearts clenched in the Red Angel's bloody fist. Not even a Primarch can survive that."

"No," Corax whispered. "No, we could not... not most of us, at least."

"The inner sanctum was closed with the Apothecaries and gene-techs inside. Nothing the other Legions could do would open the doors, so it was bombed from orbit. They thought it was over, but it wasn't, not really. You see, the inner sanctum was the most secure area of the fortress, for that was where the gene-seed was stored. The Emperor knew that, lord."

"So Adonnas was not Warp-tainted?"

"No!" Uneses forcefully said, the love for his murdered father coming to the fore. Corax said nothing, letting Unseses draw in a deep breath and calm his choler. "Forgive me, my lord; I bear no spite against you, nor against any of the Primarchs. The Emperor lied to you all that Adonnas was, in effect, Warp-tainted, using it as an explanation for the Storm Riders' agility and coordination, whether on foot, on bike, or in the air. We were a Legion newly reborn, the sheer elation of what we were capable of... but Adonnas saw deeper than that fierce joy and pride in the Great Crusade. In truth, Captain Klyne told me, the Emperor was not as he had seemed. Perhaps it was Charion who had given Adonnas that idea, perhaps it was the petty wars against slights to his rule. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the Imperium of Man can only be created with absolute power in the hands of the Emperor, no freedom except the freedoms he offers. As Astartes we do as we are ordered, but the Primarchs have always seen further than we can.

"After Charion's execution, Adonnas had searched through pasts and futures with his psychic sight, and learned whatever secrets he held onto regarding the Emperor. He did not speak about what he had found, but he was ready to coordinate the defense of Sturmgarten when the hour came, without hesitation, even though there had been no warning. So were his inner circle. We left behind our fortifications and danced through the winds, but against two Legions at once we were outmatched - that became clear all too soon. Adonnas had almost convinced the Wolf King to parlay, after trapping him, but Angron... he did not want to waste the opportunity to take a brother Primarch's head. How else was he to prove to his father that his sons were prepared to do whatever the Emperor ordered?"

"Sounds to me like Father was looking to see if the incident at Desh'ea had been forgotten," Corax muttered, more to himself.

Every Primarch knew that Angron had little love for the Emperor, yet it was the Twelfth that had been chosen to reinforce the Rout at Urashan. But that was a conundrum for another time. It was clear that his father wanted the gene-seed of both lost Legions - too clear, perhaps. Was something else stewing? Corax didn't know and did not especially want to know. Either way, he had to stop the Night Lords from carrying out their mission.

He motioned with his head and Uneses followed him out. It was time to lay some ghosts to rest, and time to create new ones. Corax had no intentions of letting the Night Haunter leave Urashan with the essence of a butchered brother. And, some part of his subconscious noted despite his attempts to suppress the dark thought, he would prefer if Curze didn't leave the planet of storms at all.