Part One: Journey to Terra

Chapter One:

Assemble the Chapters

Macragge

Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines, Lord of Ultramar, formally the 500 Worlds, sat in his office and thought about the war to come on Terra. Four Companies of Ultramarines, the 1st, 2nd, 4th, and 6th, had been assembled much of those available remaining in Ultima Segmentum to defend it to travel to Terra. That was nothing to say of the Ultramarines Successor Chapters that had sent three Companies to give their genesire the reinforcements he would need to aid Terra when Konrad Curze attacked. Curze... just thinking the name was enough to cause bile to rise in his throat.

Gripping the edges of his desk, Guilliman thought about what that monster that happened to be his brother had done. The manipulations he had wrought to summon the Daemon known as Samus in his fortress in order to attack his niece N'Bella. The innocents he'd had his Night Lords wire with cellular explosives in order to destroy a large section of the medical center, killing hundreds of civilians and Space Marines in order to serve as the sacrifice to summon the Daemon. It all sickened him. Guilliman's hands were not clean, but Curze's claws were stained to the point where no amount of water would wash them off. He would kill him for what he'd done if Vulkan did not get there first.

Vulkan. His brother was hurting deep down after what had happened to N'Bella. Tigurius had explained that the trauma of the attack and her injury had caused her to undergo an out of body experience. According to his Chief Librarian, N'Bella was possibly a psyker, possibly of low grade, but strong enough that she could commune with the Warp. According to Vulkan, she'd been having dreams where she was able to communicate with the dead, including Sanguinius. Either way, it was important that her gifts be kept secret lest she be taken by the Black Ships of the Astra Telepathica. The Imperium was ruthless when it came to dealing with Psykers, no matter their age.

A knock at the door brought him out of his anger. "Enter."

The door opened to reveal the Household Guard escorting a small man between them. In shackles between the men was Fabian Guelphrain. The former Historitor looked broken and ragged despite the fact that he hadn't been mistreated in any way. Guilliman knew what was weighing him down was guilt for his part in the near coup that had almost undone the Indomitus Crusade. Fabian's faith in him had been shaken by Chaos and the reveal of Imperium Secundus from the days of the Heresy and that had been enough for him to reach out to the Inquisition.

Several Inquisition hit squads had been dispatched to intercept his fleet and to arrest the Primarch for his treason. Guilliman understood their reasoning. He had formed Imperium Secundus as a safeguard in case Terra was overthrown by Horus and with Sanguinius as his Regent. He'd regretted it every day since and he'd almost surrendered out of guilt. It was only his resolve to make sure the Indomitus Crusade brought the Imperium back together that prevented him from surrendering.

The fight had been bloody and at first he'd been sure that Tribune Colquan of the Custodes would turn against him as he'd been sure he would. In the end, Colquan's pragmatism had outweighed his mistrust and hatred for Guilliman, despite briefly turning his blade on the Primarch, and he'd fought against the Inquisition. Fabian had surrendered himself in the end and gladly. He'd felt cheated and used by Chaos and had asked for death.

''I am scum, Lord Gulliman. I betrayed you and I deserve to die."

"You will not die, Fabian. You will live on to make up for your crimes."

From then on, with the story that the book about Imperium Secundus being a trick of Daemons, Fabian had lived in prison under the guard of Lucerne. Now it was time for him to fully atone.

"Guards, leave us." The Household Guard bowed and departed. Guilliman stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of Fabian who refused to meet his eye. "Fabian, you were one of my chosen founders of the Historitors. Then you betrayed me, even if it was based on truths long buried. Now you have the chance to make up for it. We are departing for Terra soon to take part in its defense and you will accompany us."

"Lord Guilliman, I-"

"Fabian, please do not speak or I will lose what little composure I have maintained up until this point and crush you." He saw a visible twitch in Fabian's eye and realized what he sounded like. "Throne help me, I sound like Angron. Forgive me, Fabian. It has been a trying few days." He sat back against his desk and rubbed his eyes with his bare fingers. "Fabian, I want you to come with me to document what you see. War is coming to Terra and I need you by my side."

"Lord Guilliman, why do you want me?"

"Because you are all I have right now. And, despite your betrayal, part of me still trusts you. You could have run during the incident, but you did not. You helped another and stood your ground. Lucerne swears by your character and that is enough for me. You will be returned to your cell and you will prepare for departure." At that, the Household Guard entered and took Fabian by the shoulders.

"Lord Guilliman, before we leave... I am sorry."

Guilliman did not respond, letting the Historitor go. He knew Fabian was genuine in his remorse, but he couldn't bring himself to forgive him because he would first have to forgive himself for his own crimes against the Imperium. He'd often wondered if he had formed Imperium Secundus out of necessity or if he himself had been touched by Chaos and had begun plans to form his own Imperium. It had been put behind him until the truth had been revealed and now his guilt was stuck with him.

In his cell, Fabian prepared himself for departure. He'd seen Sgt. Lucerne after the attack and was glad to see that the Sergeant had gained a cybernetic arm to replace the one the Daemon had taken from him. He hoped to win back Guilliman's trust in this. Since his survival by the Daemon, he'd got something back that had been lost: The will to live again. He hoped he could win it back.

A knock on the door made him turn his head to see who was there. "Come in." The door opened to reveal a man who looked to be far older than Fabian himself, perhaps over 100 years old. He was hunched over in a brown robe and leaning on a cane. He smiled at Fabian and bowed his head.

"Master Fabian, I am Malcolm. Lord Guilliman has appointed me as your aide. I will serve you as best I can. May I help you with your bag?"

Fabian shook his head at this request. "I can handle my own luggage." He looked down at the tiny suitcase with two changes of clothing, his dataslate and stylus, and his needed hygiene products. "Besides, it's not like I have much to carry."

Malcolm bowed to Fabian with a smile and gestured out the door. "As you wish, Master Fabian. I hope I will serve you well. If you would follow me, I will escort you to a vehicle that will take us to the spaceport."

Fabian followed the old man down the hall and looked around for Sgt. Lucerne. Sadly, his friend was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was with Lord Guilliman or was on his way to meet one of the ships of his Chapter. The Black Templars were known for spreading themselves out across the Galaxy so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he might have found one. "How long have you served Lord Guilliman, Malcolm?"

"Oh, I have served the Lord Primarch my entire life. I suspect I will keep doing so long after I pass away. It is the way of life and servitude." Fabian couldn't deny that.

As Guilliman watched the gunships rise to the ships above Macragge, he turned to the portraits of the two humans that had mattered most to him in the past. His father Konor Guilliman and Tarasha Euten, the woman who had raised him. It had been her statue that had fallen upon young N'Bella, thus knocking her into a coma. "You would have demanded that statue be melted into slag after what happened. No, no, you would have insisted no statue be built. That you did not do what you did to be remembered in such a gaudy fashion. You did not raise me to be remembered. You did it because of love." Turning to the vox system on his desk, he activated it. "Secretary Crassus?"

"Yes, Lord Guilliman?"

"The statue of Lady Euten."

"You wish it restored?"

"No. Have it melted down. And have Marneus, Cato, Sevastus, Uriel, and Maximus meet me at my shuttle. We are boarding the Macragge's Honour."

Deliverance

Corvus Corax looked up at the skies of Deliverance to see all the dropships of the Raven Guard Successor Chapters descending upon the Fortress-Monastery of Ravenspire. He remembered returning here after the ambush on Istvaan V with barely a fraction of his Legion remaining. Now, thanks to Cawl and Guilliman, he had what amounted to a Legion again. He could never call it that ever again, but it was what it was. So many new Chapters that had adapted his teachings to suit their ways of war and all with what could be considered pure-strain geneseed. Purer than any of the remaining Firstborn.

"Lord Corax," came the voice of Kayvaan Shrike from behind him. "Are you well?"

Corax smiled. He had not heard the Chapter Master of the Raven Guard sneak up behind him. He wondered if he should put his skills to the test if there was time. But there wouldn't be. Not yet. "I am well, Kayvaan. I am just thinking on what we have gained. Say what you will about my brother, but he delivers what he promises."

"When the Legions were split, Father, were you really of the same mind as him?"

"I admit that my thoughts were conflicted, but we could never be Legion strength again. Vulkan could maintain his numbers above the regulated Chapter numbers because... it was Vulkan. He suffered enough without splitting his sons. It was for the best. In truth... I agreed with him. No man should have all that power."

"Even Rogal Dorn?"

Corax shook his head. "Not even Rogal."

"You didn't trust him after all he did to defend Terra?"

Corvus shook his head and leaned against the wall, drawing his raven feather cloak around him. "Rogal was different since I last saw him. The siege had drained him. You may not know it by looking at him, but even in his stoic moments he approached his work with enthusiasm. He loved to build. In my opinion, he wanted some semblance of continuity and keeping the Legions together was that continuity. But nothing was the same. The Imperium we had fought to build had died when Horus betrayed us. The best we could do was adapt to the times and admit that we had to change."

Shrike nodded at his Primarch's words. "Change is inevitable, despite our fight against one of its greatest gods, but we must adapt. And I feel the Raven Guard has done that. These new brothers will help us against the oncoming Heretics. How many have come?"

Looking at the many Thunderhawks and their liveries and taking into account the amount of Space Marines that could fit in one of the gunships, Corax made the calculations and smiled at the result. "All 17 of the Successor Chapters have pledged themselves to the fight. And given the amount of Thunderhawks with the different liveries, I would say... 100 each. An entire company's worth of Space Marines from each Chapter. That makes 1,700 Space Marines. I think we have plenty of reinforcements to give to Terra."

Skrike was about to respond when his vox chimed. "Shrike here, go ahead, Kadus." The Chapter Master's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Lord Corax, we have multiple ships appearing out of Warp on the edge of the system. They are broadcasting codes to us, but..."

"But what?"

"The codes are Imperial, but they are old codes. Ancient."

Corax pondered this for a moment before turning away from the view of the gathering dropships. "Allow them leave to approach Deliverance. I will meet with them myself. Ready my ship."

"As you wish, Lord Corax," Shrike said, bowing his head in salute to his Primarch.

In the Raven's Claw, a small strike cruiser, Corax watched the approaching ships with interest. They were old ships. Older than any of the ones gathered around Deliverance. In fact, he recognized one of them. "So, Nerat, you and your men did survive after all." The Wicked Claw. It was an Infernus class battleship and the last time Corax had seen it had been when he'd banished its inhabitants for their brutality.

He had kept tabs on them since his return and their reputation in the Ghoul Stars had grown. They were infamous pirates. They owed no loyalty to the Imperium or the forces of Chaos. They stood alone against the dark, using it to strike fear into their enemy's hearts. The Ashen Claws.

The ships behind them, staying out of the light of the system's son, were a different story. They were a mishmash of different ships from different eras, but all of them had the symbol of an aquatic predator on their hulls. He had heard about Space Marines living on the edge of the Galaxy. Space Marines in gray armor that took their serfs from civilians without volunteers. Space Marines that were brutal killers even by Space Marine standards. "Interesting. What are they doing here?"

The Ship Master's voice broke him out of his inner thoughts. "Lord Corax, we are being hailed by the lead ship."

"Put them on speaker. Let's hear what they have to say."

"Patching through now."

A new voice, almost guttural and metallic in nature, spoke through the vox speakers. "Corvus Corax, this is Nehat Nev, Chapter Master of the Ashen Claws. I wish to speak with you, man to man along with my companions in the ships behind ours."

"This is Corax. We shall meet face to face."

"Very well, Primarch."

As the vox shut off Corax turned towards the bridge doors. "I will meet them alone. Allow them entry."

"Yes, Lord Corax."

In the hanger bay, Corax greeted the dropship as it entered. He was surprised to see that it was a Stormbird from the old days of the Great Crusade. He smiled at that. It was good to see a remnant of the past, even if it wasn't in the best shape. From it came a pair of Space Marines in ancient armor of different marks. The first was wearing Mark III armor in black and red colors. Around his neck he wore a cape of blood red and by his side was a power sword of ancient design. On his pauldron was the symbol of the Ashen Claws. This was Nehat Nev.

Beside him was a Space Marine in ancient gray Terminator plate. His gauntlets had a strange conglomeration of power blades and chain weaponry melded around them. His helm was of Mark V design and had what looked to be a set of jaws with serrated teeth around its neck seal. A pair of skulls dangled from his belt by chains. On his right shoulder was the symbol of the aquatic predator, curled and ready to strike.

Corax felt a chill go through his spine at the sight of this Astartes. It wasn't quite fear, but rather a warning. This Astartes was a cold-blooded killer to his core. He had been trained in the ways of murder to their extreme. Those blades had been drenched in the blood of the innocent and the guilty alike with no distinction or care for who was who.

Corax had seen Angron fight and how brutal he was. But he knew that Angron reveled in the fight and the blood. This Astartes felt no joy in the kill. It was just second nature. This Astartes was an Apex Predator.

Before he could say anything, the pair of Astartes knelt to him, arms across their chests. "Primarch Corvus Corax. I am Nehat Nev of the Ashen Claws. This is Tyberos, the Red Wake, Reaper Lord of the Void, Shade Lord of the Carcharodon Astra and our fellow gene-brothers of the Raven Guard Successor Chapters."

"So it is true," Corax whispered. "They are my gene-sons after all." He spoke up to the Chapter Masters. "Rise, my sons. Rise and be counted. I am proud to have you among our numbers."

Tyberos, who came up to his chest, looked up at his gene-sire. "Gene-Father, son of Rangu, the Void Father. We split from the Legion when our predecessor, the Forgotten One, was banished from your sight. Some went the way of our brothers in the Ashen Claws while other went further into the Outer Dark. In your name, in your memory, we kept vigil until the day you or the Void Father returned. We shall fight with you in the light of Terra."

Corax placed a hand on Tyberos' left pauldron. "As I said, you are welcomed, Tyberos. How many of your number have you brought?"

Tyberos looked at Nehat Nev and then back at Corax. "We both brought our entire Chapters, Gene-Father. The banished have returned."

Before he could process what this meant, his vox bead chimed in his ear. It was the bridge. "Lord Corax, we have multiple Astartes vessels on auspex! They're not coming out of the Warp. It's as if they just came out of the shadows!"

Corax' eyes widened as he realized what the Carcharodons had done. Then he smiled. They had been hiding in the shadows of the ships, hidden in plain sight from their auspex. Just like in the old days. Then Corvus Corax did something he hadn't done in a long time. He laughed. Nehat Nev and Tyberos the Red Wake were clearly unsettled by this change in demeanor but Corax did not care. He just laughed. Some things never changed indeed.

Chogoris

When the message from Vulkan came, Jaghatai rallied the Chapters to his banner while holding back the grief he felt at his niece's plight. "I promise you, Vulkan. I promise you will not stand alone on Terra."

As three Companies from each of the Successor Chapters from the White Scars made their way to Chogoris, Jaghatai stood in the Apothecarion and surveyed an operation that could be considered a blasphemy to the White Scars way of life. It had been looked upon as a cruelty to be done to a brother of the White Scars, but in the end, the Great Khan of the White Scars had insisted it be done. "Forgive me, my sons. I must condemn you to an afterlife in prison."

Jubal Khan of the White Scars had been captured and tortured by the Red Corsairs after a failed attack on one of their Space Stations. When he'd been recovered, his body had been placed in a life-support cradle. From this cradle, the Great Khan coordinated the White Scars in battle. However, when the call to Terra had been made, Jubal had asked to speak with Jaghatai.

"Put me in a Dreadnought, Khagan. Please. Let me fight upon Terra one last time."

"If I were to do that then full recovery would be impossible."

"Khagan, I am broken. Huron Blackheart, may the Russ forever chew upon his black soul, has crippled me. I know I will never see the blue skies of Chogoris again with my own eyes nor feel its wind on my face. I accept that. Let me lead my brothers again in battle. If it will serve the Emperor then I will do it." The Khagan had agreed and now he was watching the Great Khan of the White Scars be changed forever.

The White Scars did not believe in Dreadnoughts unless it was absolutely necessary. To them, it was a death sentence to be contained in a slow moving shell than being allowed to run and fight free. What Jubal was doing was sacrificing his happiness in battle in order to serve the Emperor again. "Damn you, Father. Damn you for making them like this," Jaghatai muttered to himself.

Jaghatai had always been the most independent of his brothers. To him, the Imperium had been a mistake. A lie built upon more lies that Mankind was truly in command of the Galaxy and that there were no Gods in the sky. Now it was a sick joke. A parody of what it had been made for. Religious fanaticism held sway and Mankind was stuck in time. "I hope you can see what you made, Father. I hope you cry when you see it from the Warp. It is your punishment," Jaghatai thought to himself.

He had once been close to turning on the Imperium during the Horus Heresy. It had only been simple common sense that had kept him loyal to the Emperor. The Emperor was a tyrant, but Horus was a puppet and a tyrant. With the Emperor in charge, Humanity still had a chance to survive. If Horus had won, then Terra and all of humanity would have been consumed by the Warp. It went against his beliefs in freedom to join the Imperium, but it had been the only choice that would ensure a future.

"And now a child is suffering because of... because of... No, not because of you, Father. Because of Konrad." It wouldn't make a difference to blame the Emperor for N'Bella's condition. It was Konrad's fault. This whole thing was Konrad's fault. And now he had to fight again on Terra. "I will not let it fall. I did not before and I will not again." The Khan clenched his fist, causing sparks to dance between his fingers.

Looking at his hand, Jaghatai smiled. His escape from Commoragh into the Warp had changed him like it had apparently done to Leman Russ. He had been practicing in secret and had been able to transform himself into lightning and even project it or channel it into his weaponry. It made him wonder what exactly he was. "Am I really Jaghatai Khan or a construct of the Warp? What am I?" It didn't matter. His son was nearly finished with his operation and would soon walk again in a new body. Soon he would go to war again as he was made to. As they were all made to.

Inside the Apothecarion, the Techmarines and the Apothecaries were enacting the last rites upon the Dreadnought Sarcophagus that held the Great Khan. It was nearly ready to walk. A power glaive was attached to one arm and an archaeotech lightning cannon was attached to the other. Runes and totems were being carved and hung upon the chassis. Soon Jubal Khan would walk again.

"My lords," one of the Tech-Priests said. "We are ready to begin the rites of awakening."

The Techmarines and Apothecaries nodded and parted to allow the Magi to begin. For what felt like hours more, the Tech-Priests chanted in binharic to awaken the Machine Spirit while the Techmarines chanted in Khorchin to their Great Khan. Finally, the Dreadnought containing Jubal Khan began to stir.

Outside of the Fortress-Monastery Quan Zhou, the White Scars and their Brother Chapters awaited news of the Great Khan's condition. When they had heard what Jubal Khan had requested, many had been outraged while other reluctantly accepted his decision. Kor'sarro Khan, Master of the Hunt, waited with eagerness to see what Jubal Khan had become. He still carried some guilt over the fact that he had been able to cross the Primaris Rubicon and Jubal had not. He had risked his life to do so and he had felt it was an insult to his Khan. Jubal had forgiven him, but the guilt still remained. Then the great doors of the Fortress opened.

Out stepped Jaghatai Khan, the First Khan. When Jaghatai had returned, he had refused to take full command of the White Scars, instead creating his own war-band/honor guard to go into battle with. However, he had agreed that in times of great war, he would take overall command of not just the White Scars, but also the Successor Chapters. The First Khan, the one that had united Chogoris under his banner, surveyed his sons.

They were all here. The White Scars, the Dark Hunters, the Astral Bears, the Destroyers, the Iron Talons, the redeemed Mantis Warriors, the Marauders, the Rampagers, the Sons of Jaghatai, the Storm Lords, the Solar Hawks, and the Storm Reapers. Three Companies from each of the Sons of Chogoris had answered the call and returned to their ancestral home. While their cultures and ways of war were different, they were all sons of the First Khan. And now he stood before them all, surveying his army.

"Sons of Chogoris, for that is what you are deep down, you have returned home. Terra calls us again and we shall answer it as we did during the Horus Heresy. We shall not allow the Throneworld to stand alone. This I swear. No matter what obstacle, I shall get us to Terra. Now, my sons, I ask you to greet a brother who has returned to the battlefield. Show your reverence for the Great Khan of the White Scars! Jubal Khan is reborn!"

The Dreadnought that housed the body of Jubal Khan emerged from the Fortress. While the thought of entering a sarcophagus willingly was anathema to the creed of the White Scars, all bowed in respect to the Great Khan. Jubal Khan surveyed his brothers and raised his power glaive in the air and let out a booming battle cry. "FOR THE KHAGAN! FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR CHOGORIS!"

"HAI CHOGORIS," The White Scars and their Successors called out.

Fenris

"I want all to be prepared for battle. All the Packs. All the Great Companies! All of them!"

Leman Russ sat in his throne, surrounded by his War Council and his sons. When the call had been received, the Russ had ordered all his sons back to Fenris, regardless of position or status. If they were in battle, they were to withdraw. If they were trapped in a black hole, they were to pull themselves out of its gravitational pull. If they were trapped in the Warp, they were to cut themselves loose and return. The Rout would not be held back from Terra. Not again. Leman was determined.

For all the pride of the Vylka Fenryka, they had not been on Terra. He had been gravely injured in battle with Horus and his Legion decimated. The Rout had delayed the Warmaster, but not by much. Now Terra was under threat again and they would have to be there. He would not be found wanting again.

He looked around the table. All his Wolf Lords were present with Logan Grimnar at his right and Njal Stormcaller to his left. The pack was all here.

"We will first rendezvous with the Icefangs, Mooneaters, and Wolfspear before meeting with the Lion and the Dark Angels fleet and head to Terra. The First and the Sixth will arrive side by side as we should have ten thousand years ago."

For once there were no calls of discontent with this and Russ was proud of them for that. He brushed his snow-white locks out of his ice blue eyes and sighed. The rivalry between the First and Sixth Legions was legendary among the Space Marines. It was due to the petulance of Russ and the arrogance of the Lion that it had even begun.

It was during a battle in which the two Legions had participated in that the two of them had come to blows. Russ had wanted to prove the effectiveness of the Sixth Legion by any means necessary by killing the Tyrant of Dulan himself. But the Lion had just wanted the battle to be over and executed the Tyrant himself. The two Primarchs had fought until finally the Lion emerged victorious. For millennia afterwards, the Dark Angels and the Rout had engaged in honor duels to settle the score. Duels for the sake of the pride of lions and wolves. Such a waste, Russ thought. Such a waste of time. And now the two rivals would stand together to save Terra.

Russ had more reason than most to mistrust the Lion. The truth of the First Legion was that it was a Legion divided. The First Legion had split in two because of the words of a man by the name of Luther. The split had resulted in the destruction of Caliban and the near death of the Lion himself. Russ had learned a bit of the truth from Huron Blackheart before killing him and had decided to investigate further for the truth.

A secret group of Wolves called the Hounds of Morkai had been dispatched to find any members of the Fallen to learn the facts. Finally, they found one and under torture, learned the whole of it. The Fallen believed that the Lion had abandoned them and that the Imperium was doomed, so they decided to side with Luther and Chaos by extension. Now they were a Legion of their own, scattered across the Galaxy and throughout time. It had left Russ with a conundrum about what to do about his brother.

In the past, the Sixth Legion had been the Emperor's Executioners, dispatched to be the final sanction against traitors. It had been thus when the Thousand Sons had turned traitor and now there was a chance that they would have to do the same against the Dark Angels if it came down to it.

None of his sons at the table disputed this course of action. Despite the tension that would always exist between the remnants of the First and Sixth Legions, the situation was grim. Not even Logan, stubborn as he was, objected. For them, it was about presenting themselves as a true unified force to Terra. For too long, the Wolves of Fenris had been seen as borderline heretics or just barbarians by the Imperium. Many times they had come under fire by powers within the Government for imagined slights or because of a clash of ideals. Now they would show them exactly what they were made of.

The Rock

"We have received the summons from Terra and Fenris, my Liege," Supreme Grand Master Azrael said to the Lion. Lion El'Jonson looked upon the battle playing out upon the surface of Cetis Tertiary. For three Terran months, The Unforgiven along with its Imperial Guard allies had fought against the Traitor armies stationed here. It was rumored that one of the Fallen had been in charge of the Traitor Host here, though it was unconfirmed at this point. The Lion was growing impatient at this war and if Terra was calling then he could ill afford to waste time, even if the possibility of capturing one of his lost sons was in front of him.

The Fallen Crusade had not gone as fully expected for the Lion. Of the 100 Fallen Angels they had encountered, only 30 of them had fully repented and rejoined the Chapter as Brothers Penitent. Many had refused redemption, dying with Luther's name on their lips. Another reason for the Lion to curse his former brother and mentor. Their corruption had run deeper than the Lion had thought. One had spit in his face before the Lion snapped his neck. Another had just smiled. It was disheartening to say the least. The Lion was beginning to rethink the validity of this endeavor.

"Where do the Wolves say we are to rendezvous," The Lion asked.

"Zaramund, my Liege," Azrael answered. "We are to meet there and make our way to Terra together. Leman Russ wishes for a statement of our Chapters and Successors to stand together against the incoming Traitor Fleet."

"And who leads this Traitor Fleet," The Lion asked, though he suspected.

"Konrad Curze, my Liege. The Night Haunter."

That clinched it for The Lion. For him, the failure to fully curtail Konrad Curze was one of his greatest defeats. If he had the chance to kill the Night Haunter, permanently this time, he would take it. Even if it meant leaving the current battlefield.

"Have the Chapter Masters of the Dark Angels and our successors call their brothers back. We make for Zaramund."

"We are to leave the Traitors in control of this planet, my Liege?"

The Lion shook his head. "No. Have the Dreadwing prepared for battle. They will finish what we could not. Let expediency be our weapon here today. Cain and the Imperial Guard will maintain their current positions and await my return."

"Will we not need their help, my Liege?"

"I will not subject them to Curze. Besides, this is a war for Astartes. Let Astartes be the ones to finish it."

The Lion turned away and donned his helm before making his way to the dropship. It was disappointing that they hadn't made progress, but needs must. Terra was more important than his pride and he would not be found wanting again. "I will be there, Father," he whispered to himself. "I will not be late again."

The Salamander Fleet

Vulkan awaited the Brothers of the Blue Flame in his forge aboard the Chalice of Fire as he worked at his latest gift to them. Their rebranding of their identities after the attack on Macragge had surprised Vulkan, but he understood their reasoning. To them, it was penance for their failure to protect N'Bella. Vulkan did not blame them so much as he blamed himself. "A father should be able to protect his child," he said.

What he had to give them was something they would need if they were to serve alongside him on Terra. Millennia ago, he had planned to use a new design of Terminator armor during the Great Crusade. Unfortunately, the Heresy had put a stop to that. Only a few had been made and less than that had survived. Now he was using what he had to rebuild them from memory. And they would be glorious and terrible like every weapon he created.

He stepped back from the latest one to be completed to inspect it. Unlike other Terminator patterns, this one did not closely resemble the standard pattern in anyway. The top half was more spherical with the pauldrons forming a massive shell. The helm was embedded in the armor rather than being part of it. The arms ended in either power claws or had gun attachments to them. On top of the armor were either heavy bolters, lascannons, or plasma guns. The bottom halves were more standard, but even the leg armor was thicker than normal armor. Mobility had been sacrificed for pure killing power. These may as well have been tanks that had been molded around their wearer.

Seven in total were to be made and seven there would only be. The destructive power that Vulkan could unleash from the ideas in his mind frightened him. Unlike Ferrus, he made his weapons beautiful. He imbued them with art and a soul to be used for killing and that had always bothered him. "Why do I go to such lengths to make beautiful weapons of war," he thought.

As he looked over his creations, he thought of his daughter, sleeping in her room, her soul trapped in the Warp while her body recovered from the injuries inflicted by the Daemon Samus. He activated the vox bead in his ear, the only piece of technology he had on him, his massive body bare of any article of clothing except for a loincloth around his waist. "Aleya, is there any change in N'Bella's condition. Tap the vox once for yes, twice for no." Two taps followed and Vulkan sighed. "Thank you. I will check again later."

Part of him still didn't trust the Silent Sister he had appointed as his adopted daughter's guardian. If N'Bella was a psyker and a potential mouthpiece for the Emperor Himself, then Aleya would be duty bound to call a Black Ship to have her taken away. Vulkan would not allow that. He would not let another child be used in The Emperor's plans. "This is her life, Father. I will not let you manipulate it. Never."

The door to the Forge opened and the Seven Brothers entered, their bodies bare of clothing, their onyx black skin covered in penance scars. Hesiod, the former Captain Fan'drall, stood at the front and knelt before his gene-father. "Lord Vulkan, we have answered your summons and we accept any words of censure you have for us."

"Rise, Hesiod. I have no words for you. I only wish to present you with the means of enacting your penance." He gestured to the seven massive armors. "When we reach Terra, you will wear these in battle. These armors are based on designs I made during the Great Crusade. Each one has enough firepower and strength to eclipse a squad of Terminators." He turned back to see all of them kneeling before him, their heads bowed, their eyes locked to the floor. "You are all my sons. I gave you a task and you failed, but through no fault of your own. Your hearts are strong of conscience and morality. That is why I chose you to protect her. But you came across an opponent that you did not see coming. An enemy that you could not have accounted for. I do not blame you."

"Even if you do not, we still should have prepared for anything, Lord," Epimethus said. "We are Astartes and we should have been better."

"Yes. And that is why I am giving you the tools to be better." Vulkan lifted Epimethus' head to look him in the eyes. "Konrad Curze is coming to Terra. He is the one I blame. I want you to greet him with these armors. I want you to do your best to kill him. You may not succeed. But I want you to try. Try for your sister. Try for me. Try for Terra and Nocturne. Try."

After releasing Epimethus, Vulkan stood back and waited for their response. All seven brothers stood and placed their clenched right hands over their hearts. "We will try, Lord Vulkan," Hesiod said. "We will try."

Vulkan smiled for what felt like the first time in years. "Thank you, my sons. Now... let us see how these armors fit."

Author's Notes:

Hey, all! Thank you for your patience. I've been hitting a combo of near-burnout and writer's block. I have the story in my head, but I lack the will to see it through. I'm in the planning stages of leaving my old job for a new one. It would pay less, but the hours would be reduced and I would be working day shifts instead of nights so my sanity would be helped. :)

So, here we are with set up for six of the seven Primarchs. We had Dorn's bit last time so I felt it would be good to focus on the ones not on Terra. When I say things are going to be big, I mean it. This was basically a chance for me to indulge in some good old fashioned fan service, like more or less fan-confirming the Carcharodons as the Raven Guard Successors and setting up some story bits that will come into play later.

I'm going to be taking this at my own pace. Sleep is being fickle with me and I need to think of my health. But I hope to present you with an epic story. Thanks for reading.