Chapter 1.7 The Haunter becomes The Haunted

Horus stood above the broken body of The Great Angel. Blood dripped from his taloned fingers, and the heavy mace World Breaker swung to and fro in his grasp. The Emperor, burning sword in hand, began to walk up the dais towards The Warmaster. As he advanced he uttered one phrase over and over again.

"You have killed my son."

The figure of dark and the figure of light clashed, over and over again. An endless cycle of fury and blindness. Except suddenly everything blurred. Now Rogal stood on the Dias, the body of Angron broken before him. Once again the Emperor echoed the words.

"You have killed my son."

Suddenly it changed again, now Roboute stood before the throne, a mighty Gladius in hand. Below him lay the crumbled form of Vulkan.

"You have killed my son."

Fulgrim. Sanguinius. Lorgar. Over and over, change after change.

"You have killed my son. You have killed my son. You have killed my son."

Conrad Kurze screamed as he tore the meagre furniture of his rooms to shreds. His claws rend and tore chairs, tables, shelves and more to fragments scattered across the floor. The voice echoed again and again through his head and would not stop no matter how hard he pleaded, no matter how hard he clawed at his head.

"You have killed my son. You have killed my son. You have killed my son."

"THIS IS NOT POSSIBLE!" roared Kurze, "THE FUTURE CANNOT BE CHANGED! IT CANNOT BE ALTERED! THIS IS LIES! ALL LIES!"

Everything Kurze knew, everything the Night Haunter believed was based on the immutable fact that the future could not be changed. The visions that had plagued him over the many years had shown him that Fate could not be altered. Yet somehow, but some means, Horus was dead. It shouldn't have been possible. It COULDN'T be possible. Everything that Conrad took a certainty was now shattered on the floor.

He had tried to warn Fulgrim, but the Phoenician hadn't listened. He'd demanded that Conrad speak with Rogal. Not that it mattered, Fulgrim had been destined to be amongst the monsters. Even now Kurze saw a fading vision of the snake headed beast Fulgrim was destined to become.

But that vision now faded, replaced by a smiling champion of the Emperor. The vision faded in and out, one moment a bastion of light, the other a daemon of excess. Even with Horus gone both were still possible now. But it should have been certain, he was ALWAYS supposed to be the snake. But now there was a choice, a decision that would determine which future would come to pass, and that decision was yet to be made.

"You have killed my son."

The Night Haunter screamed again in fury as the painful visions came again.

Sevatar, first captain of the Night Lords approached his Lord through the shattered remains of his doorway. When the Primarch was in one of his fits it was rarely wise to approach, but he had no choice. He needed to know the will of his father.

"My Lord…" began Sevatar, quietly.

Kurze lunged at Sevatar, wrapping his clawed hand around his equerry's head. Sevatar didn't flinch as the talons lightly dug into the skin of his face, adding yet more wounds to the many he already carry on his scar lashed face. Despite the threat to his life, Sevatar continued. This had become a recent occurrence in recent days.

"We have arrived at the location you specified. We see two vessels of Third and Ninth Legions. The fleet awaits your orders."

"The Betrayer…" whispered Kurze.

"My Lord?" asked Sevatar as the claw slowly withdrew from around his head.

"The BETRAYER!" yelled Kurze as he set off at a run to the bridge.

Sevatar was in excellent shape, even for an Astartes but even he had trouble keeping up with his Primarch. Servants and menials were shoved aside or trampled over by both the 8th Legion Primarch and his greatest warrior. Within moments both stood on the bridge. Kurze leaned over the field view like a crow eyeing a tasty treat.

A voice from the communications station called out, "Transmission incoming from the Third Fleet ship."

Sevatar signaled for the transmission to be played and hoped his Lord was not about to do anything rash. Controlling a Primarch was like trying to control a herd of wild beast, particularly the Night Haunter. Even now the First Captain's focus was split between his Lord and overall command.

"This is the Escort Ship Valiant Heart calling the Nightfall. On behalf of the Third Primarch, Lord Fulgrim, and Ninth Primarch, Lord Sanguinius we wish to relay a message the Eighth Primarch, Lord Kurze. Is he with your fleet at this moment in time?"

"DESTROY THEM!" bellowed Kurze, "THEIR FATES ARE NOT TO DIE THIS DAY, OUR WEAPONS CANNOT KILL THEM. OPEN FIRE! ALL SHIPS OPEN FIRE!"

The humans stationed at the gunnery deck paused, looking to Sevatar for some kind of confirmation. Before Sevatar could reply Kurze had impaled one of the hesitating crew on his claw, casting his corpse away like an unwanted piece of muck. He leaned in to the remaining crew members and whispered menacingly, "I said. Open. Fire."

They did not need telling a third time. Across the fleet, communications were relayed. The massive Gloriana class warship Nightfall and her escorts began to encroach and surround the pair of escort vessels like carrion approaching a carcass.

"My Lord!" called Sevatar, but he knew it was already too late.

"I repeat, this the Valiant Heart. Is Lord Kurze aboard your vessels? We have an urgent communication to relay. This is the Valliant-"

Fire erupted across both vessel's hulls. Lances and missiles burned across the void to slam into the ships, with the ensuing explosion devouring them like hungry beasts. The ordinance deployed would have destroyed each ship 10 times over, and when the volleys finally ceased not even a meter wide chunk remained intact.

Kurze paused, staring through the viewport at the dying explosions. Then, after a few moments let out a cackle of laughter, a laugh so disturbed all of the non-Astartes present recoiled in fear.

"They are dead! But they can't be! That pretty ship would go on to be devoured by The Despoiler's forces! The other would be painted new in a Chapter of its own! They can't be dead! Their fates were already written!"

Kurze laughed again tearing the command chair from its seating and throwing at the sensor field view. Sparks and chunks of metal caused several Astartes to dive for cover. Sevatar approached Kurze and laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

"My Lord, those were ships of Third and Ninth Legions…"

Kurze looked back at Sevatar with a sad, hopeless stare. It broke Sevatar's heart to see his Lord in such dismay.

"Sevatar… It wasn't supposed to be like this. I… I don't know what to do. Everything is broken… I… am broken, our fate… is broken."

"I sense it too, my Lord," said First Captain quietly, placating his Primarch, "We will follow you, whatever may transpire."

"The voices..." muttered the Night Haunter, "Its so... exhausting..."

"I know, my Lord."

Sevatar guided his father back through the doors of the bridge, all the way back to his chambers. This had not been the first time his Lord had unleashed his rage and most of the furniture had already been replaced, save for a few missing items. He sat his father down in the chair and withdrew from the room.

Given his Lord's instability Jago Sevatar had become the loudest voice in the room, and it was taking all of his skill to keep the Legion from fragmenting whilst seeing to the deteriorating condition of his Primarch. He couldn't stay to watch over the Night Haunter, he needed to do damage control across the fleet now that a pair of Legion vessels had just been destroyed...

Kurze staired down at the now replaced table. It was new, different, but looked exactly the same. It always seemed to come back. Much like the whispers that came again.

"You killed my son."

"No…" whispered Kurze, "No… if there is no fate things can be changed. But they cannot be changed it isn't possible. But the Warmaster must die… that was always their fate. The face may change, but the dance is still the same. If the Warmaster must die… I cannot kill him. The Emperor must kill him. But if I kill him first… I must prove it. If the Warmaster can die by my hand then fate truly is broken. But if the Warmaster lives, he must die by the Emperor's hand. That is destiny that cannot be broken."

Conrad slowly stood up and staggered over to the vox unit on wall. The whispers finally began to reduce in intensity. Gently as a lover's hand he caressed the button to connect him to the rest of the ship.

"We have a new course…" he purred into the receiver, "We must set our course… for the Warmaster…"