Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.Heisthemasterofmankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterofamillionworldsbythemightofhisinexhaustiblearmies.HeisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpowerfromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperiumforwhomathousand
soulsaresacrificedeveryday,sothathemaynevertrulydie.
Yeteveninhisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinueshiseternalvigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthewarp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbytheAstronomican,thepsychicmanifestationoftheEmperor’swill.Vastarmiesgivebattleinhisnameonuncountedworlds.GreatestamongstHissoldiersaretheAdeptusAstartes,theSpaceMarines,bio-engineeredsuper-warriors.Theircomradesinarmsarelegion:theAstraMilitarumandcountlessplanetarydefenceforces,theever-vigilantInquisitionandthetech-priestsofthe
AdeptusMechanicustonameonlyafew.Butforalltheirmultitudes,theyarebarelyenoughtoholdofftheever-presentthreatfromaliens,heretics,mutants–andworse.
Tobeamaninsuchtimesistobeoneamongstuntoldbillions.Itistoliveinthecruellestandmostbloodyregimeimaginable.Thesearethetalesofthosetimes.Forgetthepoweroftechnologyandscience,forsomuchhasbeenforgotten,nevertobere-learned.Forgetthepromiseofprogressandunderstanding,forinthegrimdarkfuturethereisonlywar.Thereisnopeaceamongstthestars,
onlyaneternityofcarnageandslaughter,andthelaughterofthirstinggods.
FormybrotherRob,whoknowseverythingworthknowing.Withaspecialthanksforthatmonthwe(read:he)spentconstructingthemostsacredofgamingrooms:TheAaronorium.
Andasalways,formysonAlexander,whosefirstbirthdaywasafewweeksbeforeIstartedwritingthisbrain-eatingdaemonofanovel,andwhosesecondwasafewweeksbeforeIfinishedit.Myheartbeats
foryou,Shakes.
‘//’’#
DRAMATISPERSONAE
Inalphabeticalorder
THEANAMNESIS
Advancedmachine-spiritreigningoverthewarshipTlaloc,bornofForgeCeresonSacredMars.
ASHUR-KAIQEZREMAH,‘THEWHITESEER’XVLegionwarrior,bornofTerra.SorcereroftheKha’Sherhanwarbandandvoidseerofthewarship
Tlaloc.
CERAXIA
MechanicumAdept,bornofSacredMars.GovernessofthefoundryworldGallium,andLadyofNiobiaHalo.
DJEDHOR
XVLegionwarrior,bornofTerra.LosttotheRubricofAhriman.
EZEKYLEABADDONXVILegionwarrior,bornofCthonia.FormerFirstCaptainoftheSonsofHorus,formerHighChieftain
oftheJustaerin.CommanderofthewarshipVengefulSpirit.
FABIUS,‘THEPRIMOGENITOR’IIILegionwarrior,bornofChemos.FormerChiefApothecaryoftheEmperor’sChildren,and
commanderofthewarshipPulchritudinous.
FALKUSKIBRE,‘WIDOWMAKER’XVILegionwarrior,bornofCthonia.ChieftainoftheDuragakalEsmejhakwarband,andcommander
ofthewarshipBalefulEye.FormercommanderoftheJustaerin.
GYRE
Daemon,bornfromtheSeaofSouls.BoundtoIskandarKhayon.
IMPERIOUS
TheSolarPriest;AvataroftheAstronomican,bornoftheGod-Emperor’swill.
ISKANDARKHAYONXVLegionwarrior,bornofProspero.SorcereroftheKha’Sherhanwarbandandcommanderofthe
warshipTlaloc.
KADALUSORLANTIRIIILegionwarrior,bornofChemos.SardaroftheEmperor’sChildren16th,40thand51stCompanies
warband,andcommanderofthewarshipPerfection’sLament.
KUREVALSHAIRAKXVILegionwarrior,bornofTerra.WarrioroftheDuragakalEsmejhakwarbandandmemberofthe
Justaerin.
LHEORVINEUKRIS,‘FIREFIST’XIILegionwarrior,bornofNuvir’sLanding.LeaderoftheFifteenFangswarband,andcommanderof
thewarshipJawsoftheWhiteHound.
MEKHARI
XVLegionwarrior,bornofProspero.LosttotheRubricofAhriman.
NEFERTARI
Eldarhuntress,TruebornofCommorragh.BloodwardtoIskandarKhayon.
THERAGGEDKNIGHTDaemon,bornfromtheSeaofSouls.BoundtoIskandarKhayon.
SARGONEREGESHXVIILegionwarrior-priest,bornofColchis.ChaplainoftheBrazenheadChapter.
TELEMACHONLYRASIIILegionwarrior,bornofTerra.SubcommanderoftheEmperor’sChildren16th,40thand51st
Companieswarband,andcaptainofthewarshipThreatofRapture.
TOKUGRA
Daemon,bornfromtheSeaofSouls.BoundtoAshur-KaiQezremah.
TZAH’QMutant(Homosapiensvariatus),bornofSortiarius.StrategiumoverseeraboardtheTlaloc.
UGRIVIANCALASTEXIILegionwarrior,bornofNuvir’sLanding.SoldieroftheFifteenFangswarband.
VALICAR,‘THEGRAVEN’IVLegionwarrior,bornofTerra.GuardianofthefoundryworldGallium,andcommanderofthe
warshipThane.
TWOMINUTESTOMIDNIGHT999.M41
Beforethebeginning,therewasanend.AsIspeakthesewords,aquillscratchesquietlyonparchment,faithfullyrecordingeverythingIsay.
Thesoftsoundsofwritingarealmostcompanionable.Howquaint,thatmyscribeusesink,penandparchment.Idonotknowhistruename,orifheevenpossessesoneanymore.Ihaveaskedseveraltimesbutthe
scratchingquillismyonlyreply.Perhapshehasnothingmorethanaserialcode.Thatwouldnotbeuncommon.‘IwillcallyouThoth,’Itellhim.Heoffersnoresponsetothiscourtesy.Iinformhimitwasthenameof
anancientandrenownedProsperinescribe.Hedoesn’treply.Imaginemydisappointment.Idonotknowwhathelookslike.Myhosts,caringandgracioussoulsthattheyare,haveblindedme,
shackledmetoastonewall,andinvitedmetoconfessmysins.Iamreluctanttocallthemmy‘captors’,whenIwalkedunarmedintotheirmidstandsurrenderedwithoutviolence.‘Hosts’seemsafairerterm.Onthefirstnight,myhoststookmyfirstandsixthsenses,leavingmesightlessandpowerlessinthe
dark.SoIdonotknowwhatmyscribelookslike,butIcanguess.Heisaservitor,doubtlesslikemillionsof
others.Ihearhisheart,aspassionlessasthestatelytickingofamusician’smetrogauge.Hiscyborgedjointswhirrandclickashemoves,andhisbreathingisaverseofmeasuredsighsthroughaslackmouth.Ineverhearhimblink.Mostlikelyhiseyeshavebeenreplacedbyaugmetics.Commencingachroniclelikethisrequireshonesty,andthesearetheonlywordsthatfeeltrue.Before
thebeginning,therewasanend.ThisishowtheSonsofHorusdied.ThisishowtheBlackLegionrose.TheBlackLegion’sstorybeginswiththeassaultonCanticleCity.Thatwaswhereeverythingchanged,
wherethesonsofseveralLegionswenttobattletogetheragainstablasphemywecouldnotallowtostand.ItwasthelasttimewewenttowarinthecoloursofouroldLegions.Butsuchatalerequirescontext.ThereisanerarecordedintheannalsofImperialhistorythathassufferedasallrecollectionsmust
sufferintime,withitsdetailstwistedintoamockeryofremembrance.Thiswasanageofrelativepeaceandprosperity,whenthefiresoftheHorusHeresyhadsettleddowntoash,andmankind’sempireruledoverthegalaxywithanunchallengedgrip.Whatfewarchivessurvivetorecordthis‘goldenage’inanydetailnowhearkenbacktoitinreverent
whispersasthechronometerstickclosertomidnightinthislast,darkmillennium.Picturethatdomain,ifyoucan.Anempireacrossthestars,unitedandinvincible–itsfoesdestroyed,
itstraitorsscoured.Anysoulcryingoutagainsttheworshipofthe‘divine’Emperorsufferstheultimatepunishment,forfeitinglifeforthesinofspeakingblasphemy.Anyxenos-breedwithinImperialspaceis
hunteddownandslaughteredwithmercilessimpunity.Mankindhadastrengththenthatitlacksnow.ThetruedeclineoftheEmperor’sinterstellardomainhadn’tyetbegun.Still,atumourlingered.TheImperiumhadn’tdestroyeditsfoes.Notcompletely.Ithadmerelyforgotten
them.Forgottenus.Peace,forthefirsttimeinhumanity’slonghistory,hadbeenbuiltupontheproudignorancethatfollows
thebitterestvictory.Already,meregenerationsafterthegalaxyburned,theHeresyandtheScouringthatfollowedwerefallingintolegend.TheHighLordsofTerra–thoseworthieswhoruledintheir‘ascended’Emperor’sname–believedus
gone.Believedusruinedorslain,inourshamefulexile.Amongstthemselves,theysowedstoriesofourbanishmenttoanunderworld,dwellingineternaltormentinsidetheGreatEye.Afterall,whatmortalcouldsurvivewithinthegreatestwarpstormeverunleashedacrossreality?Avortexofannihilationinthegalaxy’sheartmadeforaconvenientmethodofexecution:apitintowhichthisnewempirecouldcastitstraitors.Inthoseearliestdays,thefortressthatwouldbecomethewar-worldofCadiawasaneglectedoutpost
ofcoldrockandcomplacence.Itneedednovastbattlefleettopatrolitsdomaininthevoid,anditspopulationwassparedthefateitsuffersnow,asitsgovernor-militantsfeedthepopulationintotheflesh-grindersoftheImperialGuard,swallowingchildrenandspittingoutsoldiersdestinedtodie.TheCadiaofthatlostageneedednothingatall,foritwasscarcelythreatened.TheImperiumwas
strongbecauseitsfoesnolongerraisedbladestobringdownitsFalseEmperor.Wehadotherwarstowage.Wewerefightingeachother.TheseweretheLegionWars.Theyraged
acrosstheEyewithafurythatmadeamockeryoftheHorusHeresy.WewereforgettingtheImperiumasmuchastheImperiumwasforgettingus,thoughovertimeour
battlesbegantospillintorealspace.Hellitselfcouldn’tcontainthegrudgesweboreeachother.Ihavepromisedtorevealeverything,andIamamanofmyword,nomatterthesinsthatmyjailors
believestainmysoul.Inreturn,theyhavepromisedmealltheinkandparchmentnecessarytodocumentmywords.Theyhavecrucifiedme,knowingitwillnotkillme.Theyhavestolenthesorceryfrommyblood,andtheyhavetornmyeyesfromtheirsockets.ButIdonotneedeyestodictatethischronicle.AllIneedispatienceandalittleslackonmychains.TheBlackLegion’staleisthestoryofthelostsoulswhocametogetherinAbaddon’sname,forming
newbondsofbrotherhood.AndtheBlackLegion’srisefromtheashesis,firstofall,thestoryofthesearchfortheonewewouldcallWarmaster.HereIcommittoparchmentthefirstchapterofatalethatlaststenthousandyears,withmomentsof
loss,triumph,ruinationandvindication.Therollsofthedeadlistthenamesofsomeofmyclosestbrothersandsisters,theirlivessacrificedinthissacredwar.Idreamofthemnow,whenonceIdreamedofwolves.Itfallstometotellthistale.Sobeit.IamIskandarKhayon,bornofProspero.IntheLowGothicoftheTerranUralsregion,youwouldspeak
IskandarasSekhandur,andKhayonasCaine.TheThousandSonsknowmeasKhayontheBlack,formysinsagainstourbloodline.MyWarmaster’s
forcesnamemeKingbreaker–themagewhobroughtMagnustheRedtohisknees.IamtheWarleaderoftheKha’Sherhan,aLordoftheEzekarion,andabrothertoEzekyleAbaddon.I
shedbloodwithhimatthedawnoftheLongWar,whenthefirstofusstoodarmouredinblackbeneaththerisingredsun.Everywordonthesepagesistrue.
Fromshameandshadowrecast.Inblackandgoldreborn.
THESORCERERANDTHEMACHINE
InthelongyearsbeforetheBattleofCanticleCity,IknewnofearbecauseIhadnothingtolose.EverythingI’dtreasuredwasdustatthemercyofhistory’swinds.EverytruthI’dfoughtforwasnownothingmorethanidlephilosophy–spokenbyexiles,whisperedtoghosts.Noneofthisangeredme,norwasIvictimtoanyspecialmelancholy.I’dlearnedoverthecenturiesthat
onlyafooltriedtofightfate.Allthatremainedwerethenightmares.MysomnolentmindtookadarkjoyincastingbacktoJudgement
Day,whenwolveshowledandranthroughtheburningcitystreets.IdreamedthesamedreameachtimeIallowedmyselftosleep.Wolves,alwaysthewolves.Adrenalinepulledmefromslumberonalacticleash,leavingmyhandstremblingandmyskindustedin
coldcrystalsofsweat.Dream-howlsfollowedmebacktothewakingworld,fadingintothemetalwallsofmymeditationcell.Somenights,Ifeltthosehowlsinmyblood,ridingthroughmyveins,imprintedinmygeneticcoding.Thewolves,eventhoughtheywerenothingmorethanmemory,huntedwithaneagernessfiercerthanfury.Iwaitedforthemtomeltawayintothethrummingsoundsoftheshipallaround.OnlythendidIrise.
ThechronometercitedthatI’dsleptforalmostthreehours.Afterremainingawakeforthirteendays,evenaclutchofstolenhours’restwasawelcomerespite.Onthedeckfloorofmymodestbedchamber,awolfthatwasn’tawolflayinwatchfulrepose.Her
whiteeyes,asfeaturelessasperfectpearls,trackedmeasIstood.Whenthebeastroseamomentlater,hermovementswereunnaturallyfluid,notboundtothemotionsofnaturalmuscle.Shedidn’tmovethewayrealwolvesmoved,norevenasthewolvesthathauntedmydreams.Shemovedlikeaghostwearingawolf’sskin.Theneareronecametothecreature,thelesssheresembledanaturalbeastatall.Herclawsandteeth
wereglassyandblack.Hermouthwasdryofanysaliva,andsheneverblinked.Shesmeltnotoffleshandfurbutofthesmokethatfollowsfire–theundeniablescentofamurderedhomeworld.Master,camethewolf’sthought.Itwasn’treallyaword;itwasaconcept,anacknowledgementof
submissionandaffection.However,ahuman–andpost-human–mindinstinctivelyprocessessuchthingsaslanguage.Gyre,Isentbackintelepathicgreeting.Youdreamtooloud,shetoldme.Ifedwellthatday.ThelastbreathsoftheFenris-born.Thecrackof
whitebonesforthetangymarrowwithin.Thesaltytongue-stingoftheproudestblood.Heramusementinspiredmyown.Herconfidencewasalwaysinfectious.‘Khayon,’cameadull,inhumanvoicefromallaroundthechamber.Avoicewhollystarvedofboth
emotionandgender.‘Weknowyouareawake.’‘Iam,’Iassuredtheemptyair.Gyre’sdarkfurwassoftbeneathmyfingertips.Itfeltalmostreal.The
beastpaidnoheedasIscratchedbehinditsears,showingneitherpleasurenorirritation.‘Cometous,Khayon.’Iwasn’tsureIcoulddealwithsuchameeting,justthen.‘Icannot.Ashur-Kaineedsme.’‘Wearerecordingtonalsignifierssuggestingdeceptioninyourreply,Khayon.’‘ThatisbecauseIamlyingtoyou.’Noreply.Itookthatasagoodthing.‘Hastherebeenanywordregardingpowerthroughthe
antechambersconnectedtothespinalthoroughfares?’‘Norecordedchanges,’thevoiceassuredme.Ashame,butnotasurprise,giventheship’spowerconservation.Irosefromtheslabthatservedasmy
pallet,thumbingmysoreeyesinthewakeofunsatisfyingslumber.Thechamber’silluminationwasdullwiththeTlaloc’sdepletedpower,mirroringtheyearsI’dspentasaTizcanchildreadingparchmentsbyhand-heldillume-globe.Tizca,oncecalledtheCityofLight.ThelasttimeIhadseenthecityofmybirthwaswhenI’dfledfrom
it,watchingProsperoburnastheplanetrecededontheocculusviewscreen.Tizcastilllivedafterafashion,ontheLegion’snewhomeworldofSortiarius.Ihadvisiteditahandful
oftimes,deepintheEye,yetneverfeltanycompunctiontoremainthere.Manyofmybrothersfeltthesame–atleast,thosefewwiththeirmindsstillintact.Inthoseingloriousdays,theThousandSonswereadividedbrotherhoodatbest.Atworst,they’dforgottenwhatitmeanttobebrothersatall.AsforMagnus,theCrimsonKingwhoonceheldcourtabovehissons?Ourfatherwaslostintheebb
andflowoftheGreatGame,fightingtheWaroftheFourGods.Hisconcernswereethericandethereal,whilehissons’ambitionswerestillmortalandmundane.Allwewantedtodowassurvive.Manyofmybrotherssoldtheirloreandwar-sorcerytothehighestbiddersamongstthewarringLegions.Ourtalentswerealwaysindemand.Sortiariuswasahostilehome,evenamongthemyriadworldsbathedintheenergiesoftheEye.All
whodwelledtherelivedbeneathaburningskythatstoleallnotionofnightandday,withtheheavensdrownedinaswirling,tormentedchorusoftherestlessdead.IhadseenSaturn,inthesameplanetarysystemasTerra;andtheplanetKelmasr,orbitingthewhitesunClovo.Bothplanetsarehaloedwithringsofrockandice,markingthemoutfromtheircelestialbrethren.Sortiariushadasimilarring,spectrallywhiteagainstthetumultuousvioletofEyespace.Itwasformednotfromiceorrock,butfromshriekingsouls.TheThousandSons’exile-worldwasquiteliterallycrownedbythehowlingspiritsofthosewhohaddiedbydeceit.Itwasbeautiful,initsownway.‘Cometous,’saidthemechanicalvoicefromthewall-mountedvox-speakers.WasIimaginingthefaintedgeofapleainthedeadtone?Itunnervedme,thoughIcouldn’tsaywhy.‘Iwouldrathernot.’Imovedtothedoor,anddidn’tneedtotellGyretofollow.Theblackwolfpaddedafterme,whiteeyes
watching,obsidianclawsclickingandscratchingalongthedeck.Sometimes–ifyouglancedattherightmoment–Gyre’sshadowagainstthewallwassomethingtallandhornedandwinged.Othertimes,myshe-wolfcastnoshadowatall.Twoguardiansstoodvigiloutsidemydoor.Bothwerecladinbronze-edgedcobaltceramite,withtheir
helmsmarkedbyhighKheltaranheadcrests,reminiscentofProsperinehistoryandtheancientAhztik-GyptonempiresofOldEarth.Bothofthemturnedtheirheadstowardsme,justasexpected.Oneofthem
evennoddedinslowgreeting,solemnasanytemplegargoyle.Once,thisdisplayoflifewouldhaveteasedmewiththethreatoffalsehope,butIwasbeyondsuchdelusionsnow.Mykindredwerelonggone,slainbyAhriman’shubris.TheseRubricae,thesehusksofashenundeath,stoodintheirplace.‘Mekhari.Djedhor.’Igreetedthembyname,futileasitwas.Khayon,Mekharimanagedtoprojectthename,butitwasathingofcoldandsimpleobedience,nottrue
recognition.Dust,sentDjedhor.He’dbeentheonetonod.Allisdust.Mybrothers,IsentbacktotheRubricae.Lookinguponthemwiththepenetrativestareofsecondsightwasmaddening,forIsawbothlifeand
deathintheceramitehuskstheyhadbecome.Ireachedforthem,notphysicallybutwithahesitantpressureofpsychicawareness.Itwasthesamesubtlestrainingonemightdotolistenforadistantvoiceonasilentnight.Ifeltthenearnessoftheirsouls,nodifferentfromwhenthey’dwalkedamongtheliving.Butwithin
theirarmourwasnothingbutash.Withintheirmindswasmistinsteadofmemory.FromDjedhor,Isensedthescarcestemberofrecollection:aflashofwhiteflameeclipsingallelse,
lastingnomorethanamoment.ThatwashowDjedhorhaddied.HowthewholeLegionhaddied.Inrapturousfire.AlthoughMekhari’smindsometimesofferedthesameinsignificantpulseofremembrance,Isensed
nothingfromhimthen.ThelatterRubricaeregardedmewithanemotionless,motionlessstareofitshelm’sT-visor,clutchingitsbolterinstatelyguardianship.Onmorethanoneoccasion,Ihadtriedtoexplaintheliving-deadcontradictiontoNefertari,butthe
rightwordsalwaysfailedme.Thelasttimewe’dspokenofit,ithadendedparticularlypoorly.‘Theyarethereandnotthere,’I’dsaidtoher.‘Husks.Shadows.Icannotexplainittosomeonewithout
thesecondsight.Itisliketryingtodescribemusictosomeoneborndeaf.’Atthetime,NefertarihadrunherclawedgauntletdownMekhari’shelm,hercrystalnailsscrapingover
onestaringredeyelens.Herskinwaswhiterthanmilk,palerthanmarble,translucentenoughtoshowfaintcobwebsbeneaththeskinofherangularcheeks.Shelookedhalf-deadherself.‘Youexplainit,’shehadrepliedwithadry,aliensmile,‘bysayingthatmusicisthesoundofemotion,
expressedthroughart,frommusiciantoaudience.’Ihadnoddedatherelegantrebuttal,butsaidnothingmore.Thedetailsofmybrothers’curseweren’t
somethingIenjoyedsharingevenwithher,notleastbecauseIsharedtheblamefortheirfate.IwastheonewhohadtriedtostopAhriman’slastthrowofthedice.Iwastheonewhohadfailed.Thefamiliarthrobofguilt-stainedirritationpulledmebacktothepresent.Gyregrowledbymyside.Follow,IbadethetwoRubricae.Thecommandcrackeddownthepsychicfilamentlinkingthethreeof
us,andthebondthrummedwiththeiracknowledgement.MekhariandDjedhor’sboot-stepsthuddedonthedeckingastheytrailedbehind.Inthelongthoroughfareleadingtothebridge,anothervox-speakercrackledtolife.‘Cometous,’itsaid.Anothertonelessentreatytoventuredeeperintotheship’scoldhallways.Ilookeddirectlyatoneofthebronzeauralreceptorsdottingthearchedwallsofthemainspinal
corridor.Thisonewasforgedintheshapeofasmiling,androgynousburialmask.‘Why?’Iaskedit.Theconfessionwaswhisperedfromspeakersallovertheship,justanothervoiceamongthesongsof
ghosts.‘Becausewearelonely.’
LifeaboardtheTlalocwasathingofcontrastandcontradiction,aswithallImperialvesselscastontotheshoresofHell.RealmsofstabilityandtormentedcurrentsexistedthroughouttheGreatEye,andtheshipsthatsailedinsideEyespaceeventuallysettledintosimilarstatesofinfrequentflux.It’sarealmwherethoughtbecomesreality,ifonehasthewillpowernecessarytobringforthsomething
fromthewarp’snothingness.Ifamortalyearnsforsomething,thewarpwilloftenprovideit,thoughrarelywithoutunexpectedcost.Oncetheweakestsoulskilledthemselveswithaninabilitytocontroltheirwaywardimaginations,
structureamongthecrewbegantorisefromthedisorderedrubble.WithintheTlaloc’sarchedhalls,societysoonreformedaroundanoppressivemeritocracy.Thosewhoweremostusefultomeroseabovethosewhowerenot.Itwasthatsimple.Manyofourcrewwerehuman,takenasslavesinraidsduringtheLegionWars.Beneaththemwerethe
servitors,andabovethemwerethebestialmutantsharvestedfromthegeneticstockofSortiarius.Thebrayingoftheirritualbattlesechoeddownthehallsnightafternight,astheydidbattleonlowerdecksthatstankofbeasts’furandanimalsweat.IttookalmosttwohourstoreachtheAnamnesis.Twohoursofbulkheadsslowlygrindingopenonlow
power;twohoursofjudderingascent/descentplatforms;twohoursofdarkcorridorsandthesoundofwarpsongtorturingtheship’smetalbones.Throughtheunmelodyofstrainingcreaks,infrequentshiverscoursedthroughTlaloc’spredatoryformastheshipsplittheEye’sdensesttides.Outside,astormraged.RarewerethetimesweneededtoreactivatetheGellerfieldwithintheEye,but
thisregionwasmorewarpthanreality,andanoceanofdaemonsburnedinourwake.Ipaidnoheedtothewarp’stune.Othersamongourwarbandclaimedtohearvoicesintheharshest
storms–thevoicesofalliesandenemies,ofbetrayersandthebetrayed.Iheardnosuchthing.Novoices,atleast.Gyretrailedus,occasionallyvanishingintotheshadowsonthewhimofwhateverhuntstemptedher.
Mywolfwouldenteraspreadofdarkness,andemergeelsewherefromanothershadow.Eachtimeshemeltedintonothingness,I’dfeelaresonantshiverthroughtheunseenbondthatboundustogether.Incontrast,MekhariandDjedhorstalkedbehindinmutecompliance.Itookasolemnsolaceintheir
company.Theywereastalwartpresence,ifnotgiftedconversationalists.SometimesIfoundmyselfspeakingtothemasthoughtheywerestillalive,discussingmyplanswith
themandreplyingtotheirstoicsilenceasifthey’dactuallyanswered.Iwonderedwhatmystill-breathingkindredwouldmakeofmybehaviourbackonSortiarius,andwhetheranyoftheotherThousandSonssurvivorswereguiltyofthesameindulgence.Thedeeperwewalkedthroughtheship,thelessitresembledamelancholyfortress,andthecloserit
cametoaslum.Machinerybecamemoreramshackle,andattendinghumansevermorewretched.TheybowedasIpassed.Somewept.Somescatteredlikeverminbeforethelight.Theyallknewbetterthantospeaktome.Iborethemnospecialhatred,butthehive-swarmoftheirthoughtsmadethemunpleasanttobenear.Theylivedmeaninglesslivesinthedark,bornandlivinganddyingasslavestomasterstheycouldnotcomprehend,inawartheydidn’tunderstand.Diseaseravagedthelowerdecksincyclesofplague.Mostofourslaveraidswereforsimplemass-
replenishmentofunskilledlabour,butonceeveryfewdecadeswewouldneedtostrikeagainstanotherLegiontorestockthecrewdecksinthewakeofanotherEyeborncontagion.TheEyeofTerrorwasunkindtothepowerlessandtheweakofwill.WhenIreachedthegreatlinkedchambersoftheOuterCore,theAnamnesis’serodingsenseoforder
begantotakeover.ThevasthallswerepopulatedbyservitorsandrobedcultistsoftheMachine-God,alldealingwiththeclankingmachinerythatlinedthewallsandceilings,andnestledinpitscutintothe
floors.HerewastheTlaloc’sbrainlaidbare:itsveinsformedofcompositecablesandtwinedwires,itsmeatmadeofdecayingblacksteelenginesandrustingirongenerators.Themono-taskedworkcrewslargelyignoredtheirmaster’spassage,thoughtheircultistoverseers
bowedandscrapedmuchasthehumanherddidonthedecksabove.Isensedtheirreluctancetobowbeforeanyauthoritythatdidn’tsharetheirworshipoftheOmnissiah,butIwasnotunkindtothem.Byremaininghere,theywereallowedtoservetheneedsoftheAnamnesisitself,andthatwasanhonourcovetedbymanyintheMachineCult.Afewmanagedtooffergenuinelyrespectfulgesturesofsubmissioninacknowledgementwhenthey
registeredmeastheship’scommander.Theirrespectwasmeaningless,norwasIconcernedwiththosewholackedit.Unliketheunskilledhumanmenialswhoalsolivedtheirsunlesslivesintheship’sbowels,thesepriestshadmorepressingdutiesthanprostratingthemselvesbeforealordwhopaidthemlittleheedinkind.Iletthemworkinpeace,andtheyaccordedmethesamepoliteignorance.Risingabovethehunchedpriestsandshamblingservitorswereseveralroboticsentinels:humanoid
Thallaxi-andBaharat-classcyberneticwarriorsineachchamber.Allofthemstoodmotionless,withtheirheadsloweredandweaponsslung.Aswiththeservitors,theinactiverobotsmadenonoteofourpassingfromtheOuterCoretotheInner.TheInnerCorewasalonevaultshieldedbehindaseriesofsealedbulkheads,accessibleonlybythe
highest-rankingsoulsontheship.Automatedlaserturretscycledintoreluctantlife,slidingfromwallhousingsoncrunchingmechanismsandtrackingourapproachacrossthegantrydeck.Idoubtedmorethanhalfofthemstillhadthepowertofire,butitwasreassuringtoseethemachine-spiritcontrollingtheTlalocstillupheldcertainstandards.ThedoorwaytotheInnerCorewasalmostpalatialinostentation.Thedoorsthemselvesweregreat
slabsofdarkmetalengravedwiththesinuous,coilingformsofProsperineserpents,theircrestedheadsheldhigh,theirjawswidetodevourtwinsuns.TheonlyguardianherewasanotherBaharatautomaton:fourmetresofmechanicalmuscleandmetallic
might,armedwithrotorcannonsonitsshoulders.UnlikethoseoftheOuterCore,thisoneremainedactive.Itsjointsstillexhaledpistonbreath;itsweaponmountshummedwithlivecharge.Thecyborg’sfeaturelessfaceplateregardedmeinemotionlessjudgement,beforestalkingasideon
heavyironfoot-claws.Itdidn’tspeak.Almostnothingspokedownhere.Everythingcommunicatedinblurtsofscrambledmachinecodewhenvocalisationwasrequiredatall.Ipressedahandtooneoftheimmensesculptures–mypalmcoveredonlyasinglescaleontheleft
serpent’shide–andprojectedamomentarypulseofthoughtbeyondthesealedgateway.Iamhere.Withadiscordantorchestraofslamminglock-barsandrattlingmachinery,thefirstoftheseven
bulkheadsbeganthearduousprocessofopening.
Amachine-spiritistheincarnationofthatmostpreciousofunions:theliteralbondbetweenmankindandtheMachine-God.Tothetech-priestsoftheMartianMechanicum–thatpurer,worthierinstitutepredatingthehideboundAdeptusMechanicus–thereisnomoresacredstateofbeingthanthisdivinemerging.Mostmachine-spiritsareneverthelesscrude,limitedthings,formedofchosenbiologicalcomponents
keptaliveinasyntheticchemicalstew,thenslave-linkedtothesystemstheywillspendeternityoperatingatthebehestofinloadedprogramming.Inanempirewhereartificialintelligenceisunrivalledheresy,thecreationofmachine-spiritskeepsthevitalhumanspiritatthecoreofanyautomatedprocess.AtthecommonlyheldpeakofthistechnologyarethewarmachinesoftheSpaceMarineLegionsand
theMartiancults,allowingwarriorstofightonpastmutilationanddeathwithinthearmouredshellofa
cyberneticwarlord.Atthemoremundaneendofthespectrumarethetargetingassistancearraysofbattletanksandgunships,rightthroughtothesecondarycognitionenginesofcity-sizedwarshipssailingthevoid.Butothertemplatesexist.Othervariationsonthetheme.Noteveryinventioniscreatedequal.Iamhere,Isentbeyondthedoor.Isensedthemachine-spirit’sbiologicalcomponentstwistingintheirtankofcoldaquavitriolo,asit
sentitsreplythroughaseriesofenslavedsystemfunctions.Amomentlater,thedoorwaysoftheInnerCorestartedtheRitualsofUnlocking.Theentityattheship’sheart,knownastheAnamnesis,waswaiting.Shewasverygoodatthat.
Cease,Isenttomybrothers,inwordlesscommand.MekhariandDjedhorstoppedmovingatonce,bolterscradledlow.Killanyonethatseeksentry.Anunnecessaryorder–noonewouldmakeitintotheInnerCorewithout
theAnamnesisallowingit–butIwasgratifiedbythehesitantpsychicacknowledgementthatechoedfromwhateverspectralremnantanimatedDjedhor’sarmour.Mekhariwasstillsilent.Iwasn’tconcernedbyhissilence–thesethingscameandwent,likeirregulartides.Withtheordergiven,bothoftheRubricaewarriorsturnedbacktofacethelastdoorway,raisingtheir
boltersandtakingaim.Theretheystood,silentandunmoving,loyalbeyondthegrave.‘Khayon,’theAnamnesisgreetedme.Shewasmorethanmanymachine-spirits–more,atleast,thanaplatteroforgansinanamniotictank.
TheAnamnesishadn’tenduredvivisectionbeforebeingconsignedtoherfate.Shewasalmostwhole,floatingnudeinherwide,talltankofaquavitriolo.Hershavenheadwasconnectedtothechamber’shundredsofmachinesbyagorgon’scrownofthickcablesimplantedintoherskull.Herskin,insunlight,hadbeenthecolourofcaramel.Inthischamber,andinsideherliquidtomb,timehadpaledherfleshconsiderably.Secondarybrains–somesyntheticallyengineered,otherstakenbyforcefromthestill-livingbodiesof
theirunwillingdonors–werecradledinseed-likegeneratorhousings,attachedlikeleechestothesidesofhercontainmenttank.Purifiershummedbeneathhercradleofreinforcedglass,cleansingandreplenishinghercoldfluid.She
was,forallintentsandpurposes,ayoungadultfemalelockedinanartificialwomb,tradingtruelifeforimmortalityinicyfluid.ShesawwiththeTlaloc’sauspexscanners.Shefoughtbyfiringitscannons.Shethoughtwiththe
hundredsofsecondarybrainsenslavedtoherown,turningherintoagestaltentity,farbeyondherformerhumanity.‘Areyouwell?’Iaskedher.TheAnamnesisfloatedtothefrontofhertank,lookingoutatmewithdeadeyes.Herhandpressedto
theglass,palmout,asthoughshecouldtouchmyarmour,buttheabsenceofalllifeinherstarerobbedthemomentofanyaffection.‘Wefunction,’shereplied.Themachine-spirit’svoiceinsidetheInnerCorewasasoft,androgynous
tonenolongershroudedincracklesofvoxcorruption.Itmanifestedfromthemouthsoffourteenivorygargoyles,sevenleeringfromthenorthwall,sevenleeringfromthesouth.Theyweresculptedtobeclawingtheirwayfromthewalls,emergingthroughthelabyrinthofcablesandgeneratorsthatturnedtheInnerCoreintoanindustrialcityscape.‘Weseetwoofyourdeadmen.’‘ItisMekhariandDjedhor.’Thatmadeherlipstwitch.‘WeknewthemBefore.’Thenshelookeddownatthewolf,whohad
emergedfromtheshadowscastbyoneofthewhininggenerators.‘WeseeGyre.’Thebeastsatonitshaunches,watchingherinitsunwolfishway.Itseyeswerethesamepearlescenthue
astheamnioticfluidthatsupportedthemachine-spirit’sbody.Idraggedmygazefromtheunhealthypallorofthegirl’sface,pressingmyhandtotheglassinreflection
ofhergreeting.Asalways,Ireachedforheroninstinctandsensednothingbeyondtheinsectilebuzzofthemillioncogitationstakingplaceinhergestaltmind.Butshe’dsmiledatthementionofMekhariandDjedhor,andthatmademecautious.Sheshouldn’thave
smiled.TheAnamnesisneversmiled.Cautiongavewaytothatmosttreacherousoftemptations:hope.Couldthesmilehavemeantmorethan
aflickerofmusclememory?‘Tellmesomething,’Ibegan.TheAnamnesisremainedfocusedonGyre,asthemaidendriftedthrough
themilkymurk.‘Weknowwhatyouwillask,’shesaid.‘Ishouldhaveaskedbeforenow,butwiththedreamofwolvesfreshinmythoughts,Iamlessinclined
towardsmyusualpatienceandself-delusion.’Sheallowedherselfanod,anotherunnecessarilyhumangesture.‘Wewaitforthequestion.’‘Iwantthetruth.’‘Wedonotlie,’sheansweredatonce.‘Becauseyouchoosenottolie,orbecauseyoucan’tlie?’‘Irrelevant.Theresultisthesame.Wedonotlie.’‘Yousmiledjustnow,whenItoldyouIwaswithMekhariandDjedhor.’Dead-eyed,shestillstared.‘Anunrelatedmotorresponsefromourbiologicalcomponents.Atwistof
muscleandsinew.Nothingmore.’Myhandagainsttheglassformedaslowfist.‘Justtellme.Tellmeifthere’sanythingleftofherinside
you.Anythingatall.’Sheturnedinthefluid,aghostinthefogwhisperingfromthechamber’sspeakers.Hereyeswerea
shark’seyes,withthesamebluntandselfishsoullessness.‘WearetheAnamnesis,’shesaidatlast.‘WeareOne,fromMany.TheSheyouseekismerelythe
dominantpercentageofourbiologicalcomponentcluster.TheSheyourememberholdsnostrongerroleinourcognitivematrixthananyothermind.’Isaidnothing.Justmethereyes.‘Weregistertheemotiveresponsesofsorrowonyourfeatures,Khayon.’‘Alliswell.Thankyoufortheanswer.’‘Shechosethis,Khayon.ShevolunteeredtobecometheAnamnesis.’‘Iknow.’TheAnamnesispressedherhandtotheglassagain,herpalmagainstmyfist,separatedbythedense
glass.‘Wehavecausedyouemotionalharm.’Ihaveneverbeenagoodliar.Thetalentevadedmesincebirth.Evenso,Ihopedthefalsesmilewould
deceiveher.‘Youexaggeratemyattachmenttomortalconcerns,’Ireplied.‘Iwasmerelycurious.’‘Weregisteryourvoicepatternindicatingasignificantemotionalinvestmentinthismatter.’Thatturnedmysmilemoresincere.Icouldn’thelpbutwonderwhyherMechanicumcreatorsgaveher
thecapacitytoanalysesuchthings.
‘Donotexceedyourmandate,Anamnesis.Flytheshipandleavemyconcernstome.’‘Wewillobey.’Sheturnedinthefluidagain.Cablesandwiresconnectedtohershavenheadstreamed
outinmechanicalmimicryofhair.Somehow,shelookedalmosthesitant.‘Werepeatourrequestforconversationalexchange,’shestatedwithbizarrelyfemininepoliteness.Ipacedthechamber,myfootfallssilentinthemutedgrowlsofthemachine-spirit’slife-supportengines.‘Whatwouldyouliketospeakof?’Iasked,circlingherglassprison.Shedriftedwithme,followingmy
movements.‘Wewishonlytocommunicate.Thesubjectisirrelevant.Speakandweshalllisten.Tellatale.An
anecdote.Areport.Astory.’‘Youhaveheardallmystories.’‘Wehavenot.Notall.TellusofProspero.TelluswhendarknesscametotheCityofLight.’‘Youwerethere.’‘Weborewitnesstotheaftermath.Wefeltnoneofthemoment’simmediacy.Wewerenotrunning
throughthestreetswithabolterinourhands.’Iclosedmyeyesasthehowlsbrokefreeofmydreamsandchasedmeevenhere,tothischamber.
Acrossthedeck,Gyremadeathroatysoundthatseemedanalloyofasnarlandachuckle.NomatterhowmuchIhadlostwiththefallofmybirthworld,thewolfremembereditdifferently.Asshewassofondofremindingme,Gyrehadfedverywellthatday.‘Anothertime,perhaps.’‘Werecognisethatyourvoicepattern–’‘Enoughplease,Itzara.Idon’tcareaboutmyvoicepattern.’Shestaredasshealwaysstared:aparadoxofdeadeyesanddisconcertingfocus.AsImethergaze,I
caughtsightofmyownwraithlikereflectionintheglasswallofhertank.Animageofwhiterobesandduskyskin;aboybornofahotworldandswollenwitharcheo-geneticingenuitytobecomeaweaponofwar.TheAnamnesisfloatedcloser,bothhandsagainsttheglassnow,hermouthslackinthemurk.Nothing
aboutherlookedalive.‘Donotaddressusbythatname,’shesaid.‘TheSheofthatnameisnowOneoftheMany.Wearenot
Itzara.WearetheAnamnesis.’‘Iknow.’‘Wenolongerdesireyourpresence,Khayon.’‘Youhavenoauthorityoverme,machine.’Shedidn’treply.Asshefloatedinhertidelessfluid,herfacecockedasifheedingadistantvoice.Her
fingertipsliftedfromtheglass,strokingseveralofthecablessocketedintoherbarehead.‘Whatisit?’Iasked.‘Youareneeded.’Shelookedintomyeyes,andforamomentitseemedshewouldsmileagain.Nosuchexpression
manifested.Herfeystarecontinuedunabated.‘Wehearthealien’scries,’shesaid.‘Shescreamsforyourpresenceacrossthevox.Butyouarehere,
bareofarmour,anddonotanswer.’‘Whatdoessherequireofme?’Iasked,thoughIcouldguesstheanswer.Thealienhadshown
incrediblestrengthresistingitforthislong.‘Shethirsts,’theAnamnesisreplied.Again,theflickerinhereyesofsomethingthatneverquitebecame
emotion.Theedgeofdiscomfort,perhaps.Ortheshadowofdisgust.Or,assheclaimed,meremusclememory.‘Doyouwishtocommunicatewithher?’
Andsaywhat?‘No.SealtheAerie.Lockherinside.’Therewasnopause,nohesitation.TheAnamnesisdidn’tevenblink.‘Itisdone.’Inthestillnessthatfollowed,IlookedintotheAnamnesis’spassiveeyes.‘Activatemyarming
servitors,please.Ineedmyarmour.’‘Itisdone,’shereplied.‘WearecognisantofNefertari’susefulness.Thus,weaskifyouplantokill
her.’‘What?No,ofcoursenot.WhatkindofmandoyouthinkIam?’‘Wedonotthinkyouareamanatall,Khayon.Wethinkyouareaweaponwithlingeringtracesof
humanity.Nowgotoyouralien,IskandarKhayon.Sheneedsyou.’Iturnedtoleave,butnottogotomybloodward.Toarmmyselfandprepareforthefleetmuster.Tolet
Nefertarilieinthedarkawhilelonger.
HEARTOFTHESTORM
YouwillhearImperialpreacherscryofwarp‘corruption’;of‘Chaos’anditsrandomnature.Thesearefalsehoods.ThereisamalevolenceinthePantheon,atrueandsentientmalevolence.Theexistenceofsuchvastanddarkemotiondefiesthenotionofanytrulyrandominfluence.Bothcannotbetrue.Theempyrean’salterationsandflesh-changesarenotaccidental,indiscriminatemutations.Thewarp,
forallitsseethingmadness,honesitschosen.Itreshapesthem,siphoningthesecretsoftheirsoulsandwritingthosetruthsupontheirmortalflesh.Whenapilotmeltsintotheconsoleofhisfighterorgunship,itisnotontherandomcurseofbodilyhorrororsomeunknowabledivinewhim.Forallthepainheendures,hefindshisreflexesandreactionsfarmoreattuned,aswellastakingenhancedchemicalandsensorypleasureinthekillshemakesinthevoid.Awarrior’sweaponsbecomeextensionsofhisbody,reflectingtheimportanceheplacesupontheminhisheart.ThisisthesimplesttruthoflifeintheGreatEye.Everyoneseesyoursins,yoursecretsandlusts,
writtenplainacrossyourflesh.Andthewarpalwayshasaplan.Aninfinityofplans.Aplanforeverysoul.TheTlalochadspentcenturiessailinginseaswhererealityandtheunderworldmetinseethingwaves.
Itsbridgehousedsevenhundredsouls,mostpermanentlyboundtotheirstationsbysomedegreeofcyberneticenhancement,oramore‘natural’fusionoffleshandmachineasaresultofthewarship’slongyearsinEyespace.Acolossalocculus-screendominatedtheforwardwall,showingaworldgentlyturningattheheartofa
violetstorm.Reachingtheneutralgroundchosenforthefleetmusterhadtakenasupremeeffortoffocus,yetheretheywere.Ithadtobedifficulttoreach,forthemostobviousofreasons:onedidnotplantreacheryinfullviewofone’senemies.Aftersailingthroughthefurioustempest,theheartofthestormwasawelcomerespiteforallofus,but
thoseofuswhowerepsychicallyawarefeltanespecialrelief.Onourjourneytothemuster,thestormhadhousedcountlesslostsoulsandtheformlessentitiesthatfeduponthem.BothbreedsofaethericspirithadclawedattheshieldofrealityprojectedaroundtheTlaloc:thesoulsofthedead,shriekingastheyburnedinthewarp’swaves,andtheNeverbornastheyragedandfeasted.Here,attheheartofthestormatlast,itwascalm.MuchoftheGreatEyewascalmerthanthis
tormentedregion.Mostofit,even.Butitsuitedourpurposesfornow.‘Youralienisstillscreaming,’saidmybrotherAshur-Kai.‘Isentseveralslavesforhertodevour.They
seemnottohavehelped.’Ashur-Kaihadredeyesandforeverworeanexpressionofcautiousdisgust.Therewasnothing
supernaturalinhisscarletgaze,merelyaphysicaldefecthe’denduredsincebirth.Hisoverbloodedirises
reactedpoorlytobrightlight,muchashischalk-whiteskinburnedeasilyundertheunwelcomekissofanyworld’ssun.TheadditionofSpaceMarineLegiongene-seedhaddiminishedhisdifficulties–beforebecomingawarrioroftheLegionesAstartes,he’dstruggledtoevenopenhissoreeyesindirectsunlight–buttherewasnocureorreversalforachromia.Tohisface,thecrewaddressedhimasLordQezramah–neverquitepronouncinghisbloodlinename
correctly–ormoresimply‘thelord-navigator’.AmongtheLegionwarbandsthatknewofhim,hewasmorecommonlycalledtheWhiteSeer.Wewereallawarethatbehindhisback,hewasmoreoftenknownamongthemortalcrewbyless
flatteringtitles.Thesewereofnointeresttohim.Aslongashisslavesrespectedhimandobeyedhim,hecarednothingfortheirthoughts.Whenhespokealoudratherthanfallingintothefamiliareaseofsilentspeech,everythinghesaidcame
inalowdrawlthatheldanuncomfortablywetedge.Itwasavoicethatmadeitveryeasytospeakconvincingthreats,thoughAshur-Kaiwasnotamanwhoneededtospeakinordertobethreatening.Norwashe,byanystretchoftheimagination,agentlesoul.Hestroveforefficiencyandheappreciatedsubtlety.Thesethingsmatteredtohim.Theymatteredagreatdeal.Hehadathroneonthebridge’scentraldaisthatherarelyoccupied,preferringtostandaloneonthe
highgantrybalconyabovethecrewstations,tuningoutthelivingsoundsandsmellsofallthosebelow.Hedidn’tcarefortheviewofferedbytheocculus,either.Histwindutiesweretoreachandtosee,andseeingrequirednosmalldegreeofeffort.Sotherehewouldstand,raisedabovehisbrethrenandoursharedslaves,staringthroughtheunshieldedwindowportalsandoutintothenakedvoidofEyespace.Histhrone–positionedbeforemycommandstationandonlyslightlylower–bristledwithinnumerable
connectionfeedsandpsychicallysensitivesystemsthatallowedhimtoremotelybondhismindtotheship’smachine-spirit.Suchaninterfacewaseasiertousethanthealternative,buthefounditunresponsiveandsluggish.Itsimplydidn’tapproachthepurityoftrulyunifiedthought.EasierbyfartosimplyreachandtouchmindswiththeAnamnesis;sharingthoughtswithherphysicalcomponentsthroughatelepathicbondandlettingherseethoughhissixthsense.SuchabondallowedaharmonyofactionandreactionwiththeTlalocthatnoImperial-bornNavigatorshardwiredintotheirownthronescouldmatch.Thatdidnotmeanitwaseasy.Heoncetoldmethathedoubtedanyhumanwouldbecapableof
musteringthenecessarydepthoffocus,andIbelievedhimwithoutquestion.Ifhispsychicdutieslefthimwearyafterseveraldays,anunmodifiedhumanwouldhavenohopeatall.Poweremanatedfromhiminawhiteaurathatneverofferedanywarmth.Itwaslikebathinginthememoryofsunlight.Hedidn’tlookatmeashespoke.Ifeltamomentarybrushashissensescaressedmineinpassing:the
psychicequivalentofmakingeyecontact.Inthemomentofconnection,Ifeltmyownaurareflectedbackatme.Whereashiswassunlesslight,myessencecarriedtheunmistakablefeelingofknivesstrokingacrosssilk.‘Youcouldatleastthankmeforfeedingher,’hesaid,stillwithoutturningaround.Icametostandnexttohim,leaningontheupperdeck’sguardrail.Activearmourhummedwithevery
movementwemade.‘Thankyou,’Isaid,ratheragreeably.‘Iwassavingthoseslavesformyself.Towatchforpatternsinhowtheirbloodfell.Tocapturetheir
lastbreaths,andheartheirsouls’desiresinthosefinalgasps.TotakethevitreoushumoursoftheireyessoImightseethesecretsintheiruncriedtears.’‘Youarebeingunbearablydramatic,’Itoldhim.‘Andyouareasingularlymiserableseer,Sekhandur.’‘Soyoukeepsaying.’
‘Imeanit.Youareblindedbysentiment,andhavenomindfordetails.However,anythingtosilencehercriesisaworthwhilesacrifice.Thatcreaturegivesmeaheadache.’Iwaswatchingthedeadshipdriftbeforeusontheocculus,andnotingthespreadofseveralother
warships,allholdingbackfromoneanother.Prosperinerunesstreameddowntheviewscreennexttoeachvessel,notingtheresultsofinitialauspexsweeps.Toofewships.Fartoofew.‘Somethingiswrong,’Ashur-Kaiventured.‘Thenumberofvesselsisdisheartening.Perhapsothersarestillontheirway.’‘No,notwiththefleet.Somethingiswrongwiththeskeinsoffate.HowmanytimeshaveIdreamedof
thisstorminthelastfewmonths?Wesailintodanger,markmywords.’Fewthingsmakemyteethitchinirritationthewayprophecydoes.Whatotherscienceorsorceryisso
uselessandimprecise?Whatotherartreliessoheavilyonhindsight?Ashur-Kai’sredeyesfinallydescendedtogazeuponme.‘Areyoureadyforthis?’Inoddedandsaidnothing.Hefollowedmystare,regardingtheocculus.Thenamesofanchoredships,
eachkeepingacautiousdistancefromitsfellows,skitteredacrossthevisualdisplay:BalefulEye;JawsoftheWhiteHound;RoyalSpear.Thissmallfleetcircledthegrandwreckageofapowerlessbattlecruiser.Theshipwaslongdead,slain
acenturyagobythegunsofmenandthebladesofdaemons.Once,ithadsailedthestarsinthewakeofademigod’sambition,bearingthenameHisChosenSonwiththefiercestpride.Now,itrolledasitdriftedintheheartofthestorm,athingofopenwoundsandstorm-twistedmetal.Itwouldserveasourneutralground,asithaddoneahandfuloftimesbefore.Thestill-livingshipsdriftedcloser,eachoneshieldedagainstthethreatoflance-firefromits
approachingkindred.Everyoneofthemwasafortressinitsownright,markedbyspinalbattlementsandjuttingprows,andhousingacity’sworthofslavecrewswithinvasthullsofbatteredarmourplating.Thegrandestofthemwasafinemonumenttomankind’sabilitytocraftweaponsofwar:theBaleful
Eye.Abattleshipamongcruisers,sheborethescarsofhercountlesswarsalongasea-greenhull.RoyalSpearandRiseoftheThreeSunsdriftedalongsidetheirflagship,seemingalmosthesitanttoapproachthedeadhulk.HisChosenSon,atleastwhatwasleftofit,boretheremnantsoftheirLegion’scolours.Everyshippresenthadseenbetterdays,andthatisagenerousappraisal.Falkus’ssmallfleetwasclose
todevastated.JawsoftheWhiteHound,twinnedwiththeTlalocasthesmallestcruiser,hadcomeinslower,but
anchoredclosestofall.Wekeptourdistance.‘FalkusandtheDuragakalEsmejhakarealreadyhere,’Igesturedtothestreamingrunes.‘AsisLheor
oftheFifteenFangs.’Ashur-Kai’sthinlipscurledatthelastname.‘Howdelightful.’IturnedtoanotherspillofsmoothProsperinerunes.‘Idon’trecognisethatvessel.Theothershipinthe
coloursoftheSixteenth...WhocommandstheRiseoftheThreeSuns?’Thealbinosorcererlookedatmeforalong,unblinking,unimpressedmoment.‘IamnotaLegion
archivist,’hesaid.‘Andgiventhedamageithassustained,IsuspectthatwhomevercommandedtheThreeSunsduringtheSiegeisunlikelytostillstandatthehelm.’Iwavedasidethecantankerousreplyandcalleddowntotheoperationsdeck.‘HailtheBalefulEye.’Humans,andthingsthathadoncebeenhuman,movedtoobey.Aswewaitedforthecommunication
channeltoopen,Ashur-Kaibusiedhimselfbydrawinghisswordandexaminingtheswirlingrunesengraveddownitssides.
‘IsuggestyoutaketheRaggedKnightalongforthis...negotiation.’Somethingdarkmusthaveflashedacrossmyface.Evenathismostexpressive,Ashur-Kaiscarcelyhad
anyemotionsworthconcealing,butinthatmomentfaintsurpriseregisteredacrosshiswhitefeaturesintheriseofhisthineyebrows.‘What?’thealbinoasked.‘Whatisit?’‘Heisresistingmelately,’Iadmitted.‘Iwillbearthatinmind.ButtaketheRaggedKnight,Khayon.Wearerelyingonthehonourof
honourlessmen.Letustakenochances.’
Thelordsofthethreearmiesmetonneutralground.Therewasnogravity.Wemovedinthehaltingtreadofmagneticboot-locks,whichmadeforasingularlygracelessgait.EachofusledahandfulofbodyguardsandbloodwardsontothewreckageofHisChosenSon,wherewecametogetherinthepowerless,airlessdarkofthedeadship’scommanddeck.Dozensofemptycontrolthronesfacedashatteredocculusviewscreen.Frozen,mutatedbodiesofservitorswererottedawaybywarperosion,manyfloatingfree,whileotherswerestillboundtotheirrestraintcradles.Theywatchedournegotiations,thosedesiccatedidolsoffrostedbones,staringwithinactivevisionlenses,hollowsockets,andice-rimedeyes.Deadwarriorswerescatteredacrossthedeck–warriorscladintime-ruinedsuitsofceramitearmour,
bearingtheerodedmarkingsoftheSonsofHorus.Theshiphadbeendeadalong,longtime.Hercrewremainedunburiedandunburned.Falkushadarrivedfirst.Hiswarriors,allcladinarmourofoceanicgreenorJustaerinblack,had
securedtheareaandtakenupdefensivepositionsacrossthestrategium.Onefireteamcrouchedinplaceontheraiseddaistowardstherearofthebridge,armedwithheavysniperriflesheldatrest.Severalothersquadsoccupiedjunctionpointsandraisedplatforms,warriorscrouchingorcoveringkneelingbrothers;othershadtheirgunsliftedtoaimtowardstheseveralopenbulkheadsleadingtotherestoftheship.IrecognisedseveralSonsofHorusofficersdespitethechangeswroughttotheirbattleplate.Thereisno
hidinganidentityfromthosewhocanreadminds.Everyessencehasitsownflavour,everypersonalityprojectsitsownaura.Ourgroupenteredbeneaththetrackingswayofadozenbolterbarrels.‘HowreassuringtoseeFalkusisstillsuchacarefulcreature,’Ashur-Kaisaidoverthevox.Hewas
backaboardtheTlalocyetmind-joinedtome,lookingthroughmyeyesandnodoubtseeingthefeedfrommyhelmet’srecordingsensors,aswell.Thecrackleofelectrocommunicationhadn’tdriedoutthewetnessofhisvoice.Gunsdown,Falkus.Ipulsedthewordsalone,carefulnottoallowanyemotionintothetelepathythat
wouldturnarequestintoapsychiccompulsion.Falkusstoodalone,notfarfromwhereanarmouredcorpsewasbeltedintothecentralcommandthrone.
HisTerminatorhelmwasnolongercrestedpurelybyanofficer’splumebutbytwocurlingram-likehorns,whichformedamonstrousivorycrown.Heliftedahandatmysilentwords,theorderforhismentoaimtheirweaponselsewhere.Aseriesofcracklesprecededhisvoice,asourarmour’svoxsystemsattunedtooneanother.‘Khayon,’hesaid,andIheardunhiddenreliefinhistone.‘Myapologiesforthedelay.Thestormmadeforunkindsailing.’Hebeckonedmeuptotheraiseddaiswithavoiceofgravelandgrit.‘IheardyoufellatDrolKheir.’‘IwasontherightsideatDrolKheir,’Ireplied.‘Foronce.’
Inbettertimes,FalkushadbeenoneofthehighestrankingofficersoftheXVILegion.Hisarmourstillborethetreasuredgoldbreastplateawardedtohimbyhisgene-father,withitslidlesseyeopenwideinburnishedjudgement.ThetwistingtouchofEyespacehadchangedhimsincewelastmet,withivoryspinesjuttingfromhisknucklesandelbows,andhishornedhelm-crownshowingasferalclaimofauthorityoverhisbrethren.Thewarpwasslowlyreshapinghisphysicalformtoreflecthiscold-bloodedlethality.Mosttellingofall,hisfaceplatesportedbrutaltusksinpersonificationofhisdefianceandviciousness.
AtraitseenoftenamongtheNineLegions’Terminatorelite.Aswithmostofusinthatindecorousage,hisfirstallegiancewastohiswarbandandthosewarriorshe
couldtrustaboveallothers.Hisclanwasformedfromthecompanieshe’doncecommandedinthewar,andtheconvertshe’dgainedinthecenturiesthatstretchedoutaftertheSiegeofTerra.TheycalledthemselvestheDuragakalEsmejhak–‘thegreythatfollowsfire’–anoldCthoniantermofmourning,referencingtheashesthatremainafterabody’scremation.Itwasamaudlinname,fortheshameofdefeatburneddeepwithinhim.YetIadmiredhimforfacingit
withadarksenseofhumourratherthandenyingitoutright.Orworse,worshippingthefailuresofthepast.Falkus’shandturnedasweadvanced,becomingasignofwarding.‘Justyou,brother.’Mycompanionshalted.Gyreneedednobootstobindherselftothedeck,thewolfstalkedaroundthe
chambersniffingatcorpsesdespitethebreathlessair,prowlingasatruewolfwouldprowl.Icouldfeelherawareness,hersensesattuningtooursurroundings.Sheneedednowarningtoremaincautious.MekhariandDjedhorwereMekhariandDjedhor.Ifweareattacked,Isenttothemboth,destroyevery
warriorwhoactsagainstus.Khayon,Mekharirepliedinblandacknowledgement.Djedhornoddedwithoutaword.BothRubricae’s
gauntletedfingerstightenedinthesamesecondastheyclutchedtheirbolterstotheirchests.Imademywayuptotheraiseddaisalone.‘Yoursummonswasvague,’IsaidtoFalkus.‘Ithadtobevague.WhereistheWhiteSeer?’‘CommandingtheTlalocinmyabsence.’‘Andwhereisyouralien?’Asuddendistasteripenedhisvoice.‘Isyourpain-leechnotatyourside?’‘Muchtoherdispleasure,sheisalsostillaboardtheTlaloc.’Shehadtoremainthere.EvenifIcouldhavetrustedheramongthesewarriorswithherhungerso
sharp,shewasunabletooperateinaplacewithnoatmosphere.Herwingsmadeanyvoid-suitintosomethingworthlesslycumbersome.Falkusgesturedtomyrighthand,whichrestedontheleatherboundcaseoftheraggedandmismatched
parchmentcardschainedtomybelt.Hishornedhelmsoperfectlymirroredtherockslidegrowlofhisvoiceacrossthevox.‘Iseemorecardsinyourdeckthanwhenwelastcrossedpaths.’Hecouldn’tseethesmilebehindmyfaceplate,thoughhesurelyheardtheamusementinmyreply.‘Afewmore,’Iadmitted.‘Ihavenotbeenidle.’‘Youexpecttrouble?’‘Iexpectnothing,Iammerelyprepared.Wherearetheothers?’Heexhaledsoftly.‘YouandAshur-Kaiarethelastlikelytoarrive,Khayon.We’vebeenhereweeks
withoutanyword.Lheorwasinsistingyouweredead,aswell.’‘Ialmostwas.’Wehadhistory,FalkusandI.Wetrustedoneanothertothedegreeitwaspossibletotrustanyothersoul
oftheNineLegions.Hewasapatientmanwhennotfilledwithabattlefield’sicyrage.Wehadservedtogethermorethanonce–firstintheGreatCrusade,thenduringtheSiegeofTerraitself,andafterwards
oncewereachedournewlivesintheGreatEye.‘SowhyhaveIsailedallthewayhere?’Iaskedhim.‘WaitforLheor.ThenIwillexplaineverything.’
WhenLheor’sboardingpartyarrived,theyenteredwithoutceremonyororder.Apackofwarriorsamongsoldiers,walkingwithoutformation.HelmscrestedwithstylisedcrownswroughtintotheWarGod’ssymbolregardedthechamber.Theirbrass-edgedbattleplatewasthecolourofbloodoniron,showingtheresealedcracksofendlessrepairandmismatchedscavenging.Noneofthemmadethepretenceofsweepingtheareawiththeirbolters.Mostdidn’tevencarry
standardbolters;theyheldchainaxesintheirhands,chainedtotheirwrists,orcarriedmassiverotorcannonsslungovertheirshoulders.Noneofthemtookupdefensivepositionsagainstthespreadofgunbarrelstrackingtheirmovements.Thatdegreeofcautionseemedbeyondthem.Eitherthat,ortheysimplytrustedFalkusandhismentothepointsuchcarewasunnecessary.Theirleadercarriedaheavybolterwiththepractisedgraceofoneborntotheburden.This,hetossed
inthegravity-lessairtooneofhisunderlings,andgesturedforhismentoremainbythesouthwardentrance.Beforethewar,hehadbeenCenturionLheorvineUkrisoftheXIILegion’s50thHeavySupport
Company.Ihadn’tknownhimthen.OurassociationcameintheyearsofdwellingwithintheEmpireoftheEye.Lheormadehiswaydirectlytothedais,standingbeforeFalkus,whointurnstoodbeforethedead
ship’scontrolthrone.Thebodyofthevessel’sformercaptainwasafigureofpale,ice-dustedarmour.TheWorldEaterglancedatit,sparingthecorpsenomorethanhalfasecondofattention.Thenhe
turnedtome,withblueeyelensesandamouthgrillethathadbeenforgedintoanimageofclenchedteethinadeath’s-headgrin.Hedidn’tgreetme.Hedidn’tevengreetFalkus,whomheregardednext.Hestoodthere,watchingusbothaswewatchedhim.‘Yourtarotdeckofdubiousheresieslooksthicker,sorcerer,’hesaidtome.‘Itis,Lheor.’‘Fascinating,’Lheor’stoneindicateditwasanythingbut.‘IheardyoudiedatDrolKheir.’‘Icameclose.’‘So,doeitherofyouplantotellmewhyI’mhere?’‘YouareherebecauseIneedyou,’saidFalkus.‘Ineedbothofyou.’‘Wherearetheothers?’Lheorasked.‘Palavius?Estakhar?’Falkusshookhishead.‘Lupercalioshasfallen.’Neitherofusreplied.Notimmediately,atleast.Wordsdonotcomeeasilywhenyouaretoldthata
Legionisdead.TherewerealwaysrumoursamongtheLegions’driftingfleets,rumoursofaSonsofHorusfortress
falling,oraXVILegionoutpostbeingdestroyed.Theirextinctionwasanassuredthreatechoedbyhundredsofcommandersandwarlordsdownthedecades,whenevershipsmetatneutralspaceportsorcametogetherinunityforslaveraids.Andnowwewerebeingtoldithadfinallyhappened.Iwasn’tsurewhethertobestunnedatthe
possibility,oroffendedthattheTlalochadn’tbeeninvitedintotheraidingfleet.‘TheMonumenthasfallen?’Lheorasked.‘I’veheardthattaleathousandtimes,andit’sneverbeentrue
yet.’Falkus’svoice,alreadyresonantlylow,becametectonic.‘YouthinkIwouldjestaboutsomethingso
grave?TheEmperor’sChildrendescendeduponus,leadingvesselsfromeveryotherLegion.The
Monumentisgone.Itnolongerexistsbeyondashenruin.’‘Sothat’swhyyourfleetlookshalfmurdered,’Lheorreplied.Therewasnodoubtthistime,hewas
smilingbehindhissnarlingfaceplate.‘Freshfromfleeingthelossofyourfinalfortress.’‘Lupercalioswasnotthefinalfortress.Wehaveothers.’‘Itwastheonlyonethatmatteredthough,eh?’Lheor’scranialimplantsplayedhavocwithhisnervous
system.Convulsingtwitchesmadehisshouldersjerkandhisfingersspasmatirregularintervals.Itwasbesttoignorethesetics.Pointingthemouttendedtoirritatehim,andhewasunreasonableenoughevenwheningoodtemper.Falkusconcededthepointwithanod.Lupercalios,theMonument,wasamausoleumtotheXVILegion
asmuchasastronghold.ItwaswherethebodyoftheirprimarchhadbeeninterredaftertheTerranBreaking.FewoftheotherLegionswerepermittedanywhereneartheSons’lastbastion.‘Howmanyofyouareleft?’Iasked.‘HowmanySonsofHorusstilldrawbreath?’‘Forallweknow,theDuragakalEsmejhakarethelast.Otherswillsurelyhaveescaped,but...’Helet
thewordshangintheair.‘Thebody,’Isaidsoftly.FalkusknewofwhatIspoke.‘Theytookit.’Lheor’slaughterwasroughacrossthevox.‘Theydidn’tburnit?’‘Theytookit.’TheremainsofHorusLupercal–whointimewewouldcometocalltheFirstandFalseWarmaster–
plunderedfromwheretheylayinstateattheheartofafortressrisentocelebratehisfailure.Iexhaledslowly,turningmythoughtstowhytheEmperor’sChildrenwouldplunderhisbones.A
simpleactofdesecration?Possible,possible.TheIIILegionwererarelyrestrainedinsuchactsofdecadence.Butthisactrangwithstrongersignificance.Icouldalmosthearthewarpwhisperofit,thoughthewarpcanwhisperofanythingandeverything.Onlyafoolheedseverysongitsings.Falkussaid,‘Isummonedyouhere–’‘Asked,’Lheorinterrupted,andgesturedacrossthevastbridgedecktowherehismenmalingeredbythe
southernentrance.‘YouaskedtheFifteenFangstoattend.Wedonotrespondtosummons.’Predictably,FalkusignoredLheor’sbaiting.Hereachedtotaphisfingertipsagainsthisheartthree
times,aCthoniangestureofsincerity.Watchanyoneofus,nomatterhowlongwedwellwithintheEye’sunrealtides,andyouwillalwaysseeechoesoftheculturesintowhichwewereborn.ButIrememberhowFalkushesitated,then.Areluctancesounlikehim,aspridewarredwith
practicality.Nowthatwewerehere,hehesitatedtoaskforourhelp.‘IturnedtothoseIcouldtrust,’headmitted.‘Thosewhohavebeenmyalliesinthepast.Youknowwhy
theytooktheWarmaster’sbody,’hesaid.Itwasn’taquestion.AslongastheNineLegionshadlivedintheEye,therehadbeenwhispersoftakingthecorpsetobeusedinwaysbeyondstorageinawarmuseum.Aprimarch’sbones...Whatanofferingthatwouldmake.Whatagifttothepowersbehindtheveil.
Therewasmoretothisthancommontheftanddecadence.‘I’mnotsureIwanttoknow,’Lheormuttered.‘Theirideaofritualdesecrationis–’Ishookmyhead,cuttinghimoff.‘Theytookittoharvestit.Toreapitsgeneticbounty.’TheSonsofHoruslegionarynodded.Cloningwasn’tawordeasilyspokenbyanywarriorwithinthe
NineLegions.Evenhere,inourlawlesshell-realm,somesinsremainedvile.Cloningourkindhasrarelyworkedwell.Somethinginourgeneticswrackstheprocess,breedingcertainunwelcomeinstabilities.Cloningaprimarch?Thatwasbeyondanyofus.ProbablybeyondanyonebuttheEmperorofMankind,beforehisenthronementasacorpseuponhissoulengine.‘Theycan’tcloneHorus,’saidLheor.‘Noonecan.’
‘It’sbeendoneoncebefore,’Falkuspointedout.TheWorldEatergaveapiggishsnortacrossthevox.‘YoumeanAbaddon?Don’tpissalegendoverus
andtellmeit’srainingtruth.’Iallowedhimthatratherstrainedwordplaywithoutinterrupting.‘Whywouldtheydoit?’Lheor
continued.‘Towhatgain?Horusfailedonce,andhehadhalfoftheImperiummarchingunderhisbanner.Nosecondchances.’‘CanyoureallyseenoworthinresurrectingtheFirstPrimarch?’Falkusasked.‘NothingI’dtroublemyselffor,’theWorldEateradmitted.‘Khayon?IknewLheorwouldbehalfblindinthis,butwhatofyou?Canyoutrulyseenothreatina
primarch’srebirth?’Icouldseenothingbutthreat.Thespiritualandritualpossibilitiesmademyskullache.TosacrificealivingprimarchtotheFourGods...ToeattheWarmaster’sbeatingheartandwarmbrain,tastingandstealinghisstrength...ToraiseanarmyofmalformedsimulacrumsintheFirstPrimarch’simage...‘HorusRebornwouldwintheLegionWars,’Iventured.Falkusnodded,shiftinghisstance.‘Andmorethanthat.Hewouldbetheonlyprimarchstillmortal.The
onlyonestillabletoinvadetheImperium.’‘Butcloning,’Lheorsaidthewordasacurse,withalegionary’sinstinctivedisgust.Hedidn’twantto
believeeventhedecadentIIIwerecapableofsuchsacrilege.‘Andwhyareyouagainstthisplan?Don’tyouwanthimback?’Falkuswasashrewd,viciouslycunningsoul.Itrustedhisjudgement,andhisreplyonlyconfirmedwhy.‘Itwouldn’tbeHorusLupercal,’hesaidtoLheor.‘EveryoneoftheSonsofHorusfeltourfatherdie
whentheEmperorswallowedhissoul.WhateverrevenanttheThirdLegionseekstoraise,itwouldbeasoullesshuskbornfromourfather’sbones.’Low,angryfrustrationthrobbedfromhisthoughts.‘They’vealreadydrivenustotheedgeofextinction.Isn’tthatenough?Musttheypissonourbones?’LheorandIsharedanotherlook.TheWorldEaterspokeagain,lookingbacktoFalkus.‘Telluswhatyouwant,brother.IfLupercaliosisgone,what’sleftforyou?Youcanhardlylaysiegeto
theCanticleCityjusttoburnHorus’sremains.’Falkussaidnothing,whichsaiditall.Lheor’slaughwasthroatyandnasty.‘Don’teventhinkaboutit,Widowmaker.Bereasonable.Youwanttohide?Wecanhideyou.Youwant
torun?Thenstartrunning.Butdon’tcastyourambitionstowardstheCanticleCity.TheThirdLegionwillburnyoutoashbeforeyouseteyesontheirfortress.’‘First,’Falkussaidpatiently,‘Ineedaneutralport.Onetorepairandrefitmyfleet.’‘Gallium,’Isaid.‘TheTlalocwastherenotlongago.’‘IamloathtotesttheGoverness’spatience.WiththewaytheSonsofHorusarehuntednow,Galliumis
alastresort.’GalliumwasoneoftheMechanicum’smanycity-states.OneoftheIVLegionclaimeditashis
protectorateanddeferredleadershiptoarankingMartianadept.AccordingtotheTlaloc’sinternalchronometry,wehadlastdockedthereelevenmonthsago.Thatmighttranslateasfiveminutesorfifteenyearsbackattheworldwe’dleftbehind,giventhestormwe’dpassedthrough.CeraxiaandValicar,thegovernessandguardianofGallium,werefamouslyaggressiveintheirrefusal
tocommittotheLegionWars.Neutralitywasworthmoretothemthanfuel,ammunitionandglory.Falkuswasright–hispresencetherenowasahuntedexilewouldstraintheirrefusaltoentertheLegionWars.‘Rearmandrefuel.’Lheorliftedashoulderinawhirringshrug.‘Butwhatdoyouhopetoachieveafter
that?Evenwithyourfleetrepaired,yourLegionisasdeadasKhayon’s.’HegesturedtoMekhariand
Djedhor,andsaid,‘Nooffenceintended.’‘Nonetaken,’Iassuredhim.LheorturnedbacktoFalkus.‘Iassumeyouaskedusheretoprevailonoldallegiances,eh?Your
hospitalityisappreciated,butIcould’vesentmyrefusalaheadandkepttheWhiteHoundelsewhere.Youinterruptedafruitfulraidingcampaign.’‘Suchingratitude?Youoweme,Lheorvine.’LheorstoodfacetofacewithFalkus,breastplatetobreastplate.ThisisoftenhowitiswithLegion
warbands,eventhosethatareostensiblyallied.Posturingissomethingofanart,asisrecallingtheminutiaeofdebtsowedandaccrued.Wetakeitveryseriously.‘Ioweyou,brother.NotyourLegion.Irefusetodiewiththem.Youwanttorun?IsaidI’llhelpyou
run.Youwanttohide?I’llevenhelpyouturnintoacowardifthat’swhatyousuddenlydesire.ButI’mnotgoingagainstaThirdLegionarmadabecauseyou’reweepingovertheEmperor’sChildrenstealingyourfather’scorpse.YouearnedthisfatewhenyoufledTerraandcostusthewar.’Theoldaccusation.TheaccusationthathadblightedtheSonsofHorusintheirexile,andhadseenthem
runbeforethegunsoftheNineLegions’warshipseversincethedeathoftheirprimarch.Thiswasgoingnowhere.Irestedmyhandsonbothwarriors’shouldersandforcedthemafewsteps
apart.‘Enough.WelostthewarwhentheWarmasterlostcontroloftheLegionsatTerra.Wehadalready
failedbythetimeHorusfell.’‘NeverarguewithaTizcan,’Lheormuttered.‘Thisstillstinksofmadness,Falkus.We’respeaking
aboutpreternaturalarcheoscience,theEmperor’sgeneticartwork.Whathopedoesamundanefleshcrafterreallyhave?Itwilltakethemaneternitytogene-forgesomethinglikeaprimarch.TheEmperorhimselfcouldonlycreatetwentyofthecursedthings,andthattookdecades.’‘I’mnotwillingtotaketherisk,’Falkusreplied,hisvoicecoldandharsh.Hewasacholericman,but
hisangermanifestedasiceratherthanfire.WhenFalkusKibrelosthistemper,helosthisfacadeofwarmth.‘Wecannothideinthisstormforever.TheTlalocwasthelasttoarrive.Anyotherswhowouldhaveansweredthecallaredead,lost,ortoolatetomatter.Nomoredelays.Nomorerunning.YoubothsworetoaidmewhenIcalleduponyou.’Thoughourhelmsdeniedeyecontact,IcouldfeelhisstaremeetingmineasIspoke.‘Youhaveaplan?’‘Seeforyourself.’TheSonsofHoruslegionaryproducedahand-heldhololithicprojector,andthumbeditsactivation
sigil.Harshgreenlightflickeredintobeing,playingacrosshisarmourastheimagestuttereditswaytoresolution.Itshowedaship.Evenrendereddownintoaflickeringholoofunhealthyjadelight,thescaleofthe
warshipwasevidentenoughtostealmybreath.Animmensebattleship,majesticbeyondmajesty,withitsspinalfortressesandarmouredprowdelineatingthebulkymurderousnessofaScylla-patternvariantoftheancientGloriana-classhull.Iknewtheshipatonce,asdidLheor.Onlyahandfulofthosebattleshipshadeverbeenconstructed;the
EmperorhimselfhadgrantedthemtohisSpaceMarineLegionstoserveasflagships.OnlyoneGlorianavesselinalltheEmperor’sfleetswasbornfromtheScyllavariantconstructionschema.Lheorcrossedhisarmsoverhisbreastplate.HeworetheImperialisacrosshischest,displayingthe
wingedskullofImperialloyaltywithoutashadowofshame.Heevenpolishedit,sothatitgleamedsilveragainstthedarkredplate.Ibelieveheenjoyedtheirony.Hisneckservospurredoverthevoxashegaveacurtshakeofhishead.‘YourLegionjustdied,my
brother.Nowisnotthetimetochaseghosts.’
‘Imeanit,’Falkussaidinhisavalanchevoice.‘IwillfindtheVengefulSpirit.WithitIcandestroytheCanticleCity.’‘Hundredsofwarbandshavesoughtitforcenturies,’IpointedoutasgentlyasIcould.‘Hundredsofwarbandshadnoideawheretolook.’‘Andyoubelieveyoudo?’Hethumbedanothersettingonthehololithicprojector.Theimageblurredforseveralseconds,atlast
resolvingintoaroughillusionoftheGreatEye.Withhisfreehand,hemarkedouttheEye’scorewardedge–thoseblightedstarsfacingTerra.‘TheRadiantWorlds.’Lheor’slaughwasagunshotacrossthevox.‘Howdoyouplantosailyourbrokenshipsthroughthe
Firetide?’Thatwasthewrongquestion.Iaskedtherightone.‘HowdoyouknowtheVengefulSpiritisthere?’Falkusdeactivatedtheimage.‘IwastoldtheflagshiplieshiddeninadustnebulabeyondtheFiretide.I
willtakemyfleetintotheRadiantWorlds,andIwantyoubothtocomewithme.’BeyondtheFiretide.Sothatwaswhyheneededme.NeitherLheornorIsaidanythinginreply.Perhapstoothers,Falkus’swordswouldhavereekedof
simpledesperation.HisneedtohunthisLegion’sformerflagshipmightsuggestaninabilitytooutrunthepast,tragicallyhungeringforformergloriesatthecostofcarvinganewfuture.ButtoassumesuchathingmisunderstandsthescaleofhowfartheSonsofHorushadfallen.Fromstandingasfirstamongequals,theystoodnowontheedgeofextinction.Howmanyoftheir
worldshadfallensincetheNineLegionsfirsttookrefugeintheEye?Howmanyshipshadtheylost,eithertobattleortotheplunderinghandsofrivalarmies?I,ofallthosehemighthavesummoned,wouldnevermockhimforragingagainstthedyingofthelight.Nomatterhowfutileitwas.TheMonumentwasdestroyedandtheirfather’scorpsewasstolen,desecratingeventheLegion’s
legacy.Falkus’splanwasn’tdesperation.WithLupercaliosgonetheSonsofHoruswerepastthatpoint,fordesperationisasymptomofhope.Itwasn’tevensurvival.Itwasthelastgaspofawarriorwhorefusedtodiewithhisdutyundone.OnefinalbattletosendhisLegion’snameintohistorywithpride.ForamomentIheardthehowlsagain.Ismelttherancidashofunjustfire.‘Iwillhelpyou,’Isaid.LheorlookedatmeasifIhadspokenmadness.‘You’llhelphim?’‘Yes.’‘Thankyou,’saidFalkus,inclininghishead.‘Iknewyouwouldstandwithme,Khayon.’WhydidIvolunteer?Intime,agreatmanysoulswouldcometoaskthatsamequestion.Even
Telemachonwouldask,inoneoftheraremomentswecouldstandeachother’spresenceforlongenoughtoconverseastruebrothers.And,ofcourse,Abaddonwouldask.Thoughinhiswisdomhealreadyknewtheanswer.Lheorwassomewhatlesssanguine.‘Iwantanswers,Falkus.Howdoyouknowit’sbeyondthe
Firetide?Who’ssendingyouonthisfool’scrusade?’Falkusturnedtohismenandvoxedanorder.‘Bringhimforward.’
AlifetimebeforeFalkusandImetintheheartofthestormtospeakofhisLegion’sextinction,Iwatchedmyownbloodlinedie.AsapointofparableitwasoftensaidthattheThousandSonsLegiondiedtwice,butthatissimply
poeticdelusion.Ahriman’sarrogantRubriccouldn’tkillus,forwewerealreadydead.Hisfailedsalvationwasnothingmorethanourfuneralpyre.
WediedwhentheWolvescame.Wediedwhenourbirthworldburned.Prospero,consignedtoashwithitsshiningcapital,theseatofhumanity’sknowledge:Tizca,theCityofLight.Imagineaskylineofgreatglasspyramids,madetohonourthebeauteousskies,formedtoreflectthe
sun’slightandactasabeaconofilluminationvisiblefromspace.Picturethosepyramids–thespacioushive-spiredhomesofaneducatedandenlightenedpopulation,committedtothepreservationofallloreinthegalaxy.Thetopsofthosepyramid-librariesandziggurat-habitatswereantiquatedobservatoriesandlaboratories,givenovertothepursuitsofstargazing,sorcery,andoraculardivination.WeknewthosepursuitsastheArt,anamemanyofusstillusetothisday.ThatwasTizca,thetrueTizca.Ahavenofpeacefullearning,notthemalformedsimulacrumthatexists
nowonSortiarius.Wewerenotinnocent,though.Neverthat.Evennow,SortiariusishometothoseoftheThousandSons
wholamenttheirfate,cryinguptotheToweroftheCyclopsofhowtheywerewronged,howtheywerebetrayed,howtheyhadnowayofknowingjudgementwouldcome.Butweshouldhaveknown.Foolishexcusesandmewlingwhineswillneverchangethetruth.We
lookedtoodeeplyintothetidesofthedaemonicwarpwhentheEmperorhimselfdemandedwestayblind.Webelievedthen,astheremnantofmyformerLegionstillbelieves,thattheonlygoodisknowledge,andtheonlyevilisignorance.Andso,judgementfelluponus.ThatjudgementcametothetrueTizcaintheformofourferalcousins,
theVILegion–alsoknownastheEinherjar,theVlkaFenryka,theRout;andbytheirbaselyliteralLowGothicname,theSpaceWolves.Theydescendeduponus,notontheEmperor’sordersbutthoseofWarmasterHorus.Weknewnothing
ofthisatthetime.OnlylaterwouldwelearnthattheEmperorhaddemandedwereturntoTerraundershamefularrest.ItwasHorus,manipulatingthetidesofthewarbeforeitwaseventrulydeclared,whoarrangedforourcensuretobecomeourexecution.HewantedustodespisetheImperium.Hewantedus–thosewhosurvived–tostandwithhimagainsttheEmperorwhenwehadnowhereelsetoturn.AndtheWolvesobligedhim.Intheirignorance,astragicasourown,theyfelluponus.Evennow,Ido
nothatetheWolves.Theironlysinwastobebetrayedbythosetheytrusted.Inthatmoreinnocentage,theyhadnoreasontodoubttheFirstWarmaster’swords.TheBlackLegionhasitsownnamefortheWolves.WecallthemThulgarach,‘theDeceived’.Someof
ussneerthetitle,whileotherssayitwithoutmockery.Theworditselfplacesemphasisonthecunningofthedeceiver,ratherthanfoolishnessofthedeceived.ThedestructionofProsperowasHorus’striumph,nottheWolves’.AsfortheThousandSons,IdonotknowwhattheycalltheWolves,anymore.Ihavelittletruckwith
myformerLegionanditsmelancholicoverlords.NotsinceImademyfatherMagnuskneelbeforemybrotherAbaddon.ButIwasspeakingofProsperoanditsbleakend.OnthedaytheLegiondied,Iwasonthegroundwhen
theskybegantoweepfire.Thefirsthowlsweheardwerethedescent-whinesoffallingdroppods,comet-streakingtheirwayearthwards.LikemostofmyLegion,Iwatchedindisbeliefastheclearblueheavensabovethewhitepyramidsturnedblackwithtrooptransports.ImmenseStormbirdlanderseclipsedthesunwiththeirreachingwingspans.Smallergunshipsstreamedaroundtheirslowercousins,showingthesickloyaltyoffliestocarcasses.Wewerenotready.Ifwehadbeenprepared,theImperiumwouldhavelosttwoLegions,aswe
destroyedeachotherinthebitterestdayofbattleeitherweortheWolveshadeverseen.Butweweretakenutterlybysurprise.Ourfoeshadusbythethroatbeforeweevenknewwewereunderattack.Ourgene-sire,Magnus,theCrimsonKing,hadknownjudgementwascomingforoursinsagainstImperial
edict.Hewishedtofacepunishmentasamartyr,ratherthanresistitasaman.OurfleetwouldhaveofferedafairfighttotheEinherjararmada,butithadsailedtothefarreachesof
thestarsystembeforetheWolves’arrival,leavingusnakedinthesky.Theenemy,ourowncousins,bypassedoursilentandpowerlessorbitaldefencearray.Theydiveddownuntroubledbytheinactivecitywidelaserbatteries.Wordspreadacrossthevox,andfrombondedmindtobondedmind.Thesamewords,againandagain.
Wearebetrayed!TheWolveshavecome!IwillnotarguethephilosophybehindwhetherornottheThousandSonsdeservedexecution.ButI
knewwhatitwastobeorphanedbywar,bereftofbloodlineandbrotherhood.SoperhapsthereasonIagreedtohelpFalkuswassoIcouldstandwiththismanIadmiredandhelp
himthroughthesamehollowjourneyIhadsuffered.PerhapsIwasjustlonelyaboardmyghostship–surroundedbyashendeadtoomind-scourgedtorecallourpasttogether–andsawalastchancetofightalongsidekindredwhodeservedmytrust.PerhapstheresurrectionofHoruswasanabominationIcouldneithertoleratenorrisk.PerhapsIjustwantedtheNineLegions’flagshipformyself.
‘Bringhimforward.’SeveralmoreofFalkus’swarriorsenteredfromasidecorridor,theirgaitshowingthetrained
movementsofwalkingingravity-starvedenvironmentsdespitetheirunwieldyTerminatorplate.Justaerin.OncetheSonsofHoruswarrior-clanelite.Betweenthefiveofthemtheyescortedawarriorboundinmag-lockedmanacles,bindinghiswrists
behindhisback.Goldletteringscrawledacrosshisredarmourinprecise,minisculerunes–eachlinewasaprayerorbenedictioninatongueforgottenbytheImperium,whichweknowasColchisian.Lheorsnortedastheprisonerwasbroughttowardsus.‘IadmitIwasn’texpectingthat.’NorwasI.ThewarriorintheblackandrichcrimsonoftheWordBearerswarpriestswasforcedto
kneelbeforeus.Hishelmwasanantiquatedthingofdirtybronze.Oneeyelenswasemeraldinhue,theotherthedarkblueofTerransapphire.Iwonderedatthesignificanceofsuchathing.‘Isthisagift?’Lheorasked.‘OratoyforKhayon’sbloodward?’‘Wait,’Falkusreplied,‘andyouwillsee.’IcouldsenseLheorsneeringdownatthecaptive.Formypart,IbrushedmysensesagainsttheWord
Bearer’smind,feelingtherepellentstrengthofabsolute,ruthlessprivacy.Adisciplinedmind,noquestionthere,andonepossessingpsychicpotentialofitsown.Butuntrained.Loose.Raw.Hewasnotbornwithasixthsense.HehaddevelopeditashissoulripenedandblazedbrighterintheGreatEye’sfertiletides.‘We’rewaiting,’saidLheor.Weallfeltthechangeinthatmoment.Lheorlookedupsharply,hishandstrayingtotheaxeboundtohis
back.Falkus’shelmclickedwiththehalf-mutedexchangeofvoxmessagesbetweenheandhiswarriors,whileeachofthembracedbolterstoshoulder-guardsinreadinessforsomethingasyetunseen.Ifeltitasawhisperinthestillair,apresencemovingfromoneplacetoanother,thewayonemightfeelsomeonecrossingaroomevenwhenone’seyesareclosed.MekhariandDjedhorliftedtheirboltersamomentafterFalkus’smenhaddoneso.Mywolfwas
growlingattheshadows.Somethingcomes,shewarned.Orsomeone.Nofigureappearedinastormofpsychicenergy,orburstintoexistencewiththethunderousair
displacementofteleportation.Whilethethreeofuswatchedthecaptive,andwhileourwarriorsbroughtdozensofbolterstoaimacrossthecommanddeck,thecorpseslouchedonthecaptain’sthronestoodup
behindus.Thebucklesofitsrestraintbeltssnappedwithrottedease.LheorandIwhirledintheraggedunityofbrothersbornintodifferentLegions.MekhariandDjedhor’s
boltgunslockedontothestandingcadaver.Myaxerippledwithaliveenergyfield,andthechain-teethofLheor’sbladechewedthroughtheairlesssilence.ThedeadSonsofHorusofficermadenohostilemoveoncehehadrisenfromhisthrone.Thecorpse
carriednoweaponandworelayered,uglyMarkVwar-plate.AsignoftheHeresy,andrushedrepairsmadebetweenbattlefields.Itstoodthereandwatchedus,asweaimedourweaponsatitshead.Onitspauldron,theopen-eyesymboloftheSonsofHoruswascataractedbyfrost.Icannotimaginelifewithoutasixthsense,formytalentdevelopedinmyearliestyouth.Itstrikesmeas
alamentablelacktolookatanotherperson,tospeaktoanotherwarrior,andnotsensetheebbandflowofhisemotionsasyouhearhiswords.Thefigureonthethronehadbeenacorpse,acreaturedevoidofanythoughtandsynapticreaction.ThatwaswhyIhadn’tsensedanylifewithinitwhenweentered.Therehadbeennomind,nolife,tosense.Yetnowtherewas.Thefaintstirringsofanessenceteasedme–Isenseditsnearnessbutnoneofits
detail.Impossibly,therecameacrackleasanothersignaltunedintooursharedvox-channel.‘Brothers,’thevoicecameasabreathy,nastyhissofescapingair.‘Mybrothers.’
ORACLE
NeitherLheornorIloweredourweapons.Theairshimmeredwithunformedweaklingspirits,caressingourarmourwithinsubstantialhands.Daemonswaiting,wantingtobeborn.Ifelttheirhungerforoursoulfiresandtheirwishthatwewouldjustcommittoviolence,grantingthemlifethroughemotionandbloodshed.‘Nameyourself,’Lheororderedthestandingcorpse.‘Sargon,’camethedrywhisperacrossthevox.Thescratchyvoicewasstrained,througheffortrather
thanmalice.Neitherthearmouredsuitnorthecoldofthesunlessvoidhadentirelyprotectedthebodyfromtheonsetofdecay,forthecreature’swordwasawhisperpushedfromrottedlungs.TheothershadnotalentintheArt,butIcouldsensethepsychicstringsbetweenthemovingcorpseand
themindanimatingthething’sbones.Thefigurestoodbeforeusinadead-muscleslouch,apuppetmovingonlyatthebehestofanearbymaster.Iloweredmyaxe,lookingtothenearbyWordBearer.‘YouareSargon.’Theprisoner’sbronzehelmdippedinacknowledgement,butthehissedreplycamefromthestanding
corpse.‘SargonEregesh,onceoftheSeventeenthLegion.OnceoftheBrazenheadChapter.Onceawarrior-
priestoftheWord.’‘Once?’Iasked.Everywarbandhadavaryingdegreeofloyaltyandinvolvementwiththeirparent
Legion,butIhadencounteredfewwarriorsamongtheXVIIwhohadcastasideLorgar’steachings.‘Ibringenlightenmentandillumination,butitisnolongertheWordofLorgar.’IlookedtoFalkusforanexplanation.‘Wheredidyoucapturehim?’Heshookhishead.‘Ididn’tcapturehimatall.HecametousafterLupercaliosfellandsurrenderedhis
weapons.Thebindingsaremerelyaprecaution.’Andaninsult.Evennow,Falkushadhisprimarch’spride.He’dalwaysbeenpooratconsideringthe
needsandnuancesofothers.Iaddressedmywordstothekneelingwarrior,ratherthanthepuppetspeakingonhisbehalf.‘Whydoyounotspeak?’TheWordBearerreachedaredgauntlettotouchfingertipstohisthroat.Againthewordscamefromthe
uprightcorpsebehindme.‘WoundstakenintheTerranWar.Icannotspeak.OneofSanguinius’ssonscutmythroat.Hisbladetook
mylarynxandtongue.’Isensednodeceptionfromhim,butintruthIsensedverylittleatall.Hisdefenceswerestrong,andnot
purelythroughanironwill.Hewasnotsimplyanimatingthecadaverasaplaything–hisessencewas
diffusedbetweenthecorpseandhisownflesh,hissoulaliveinbothbodiesatonce.Suchafeattookanincredibledegreeofcontrol.Ifyouweresilencedbyanenemy’ssword,thenwhynotspeakasIspeaknow?Silenceansweredme.TheWordBearerdidnotreact,nordidthecorpse.Itriedagain.Canyounothearmywords?Stillnothing.Gyreprowledthedeckbelowtheraisedcommanddais,watchinguswithhungrywhite
eyes.Hecannothearus,shepulsedtome.Iseehissoulfireasacagedflame.Alivebuthidden.Therebut
notthere.Hercautiousconfusionwaspalpableacrossthebondweshared.Ilookedbacktothekneelingwarrior.
Withalmostalllivingbeings,Icouldsensefragmentsoftheiremotionsandmemoriesasachaotichazearoundtheirmind.Lookingintotheirlivestooknomorethanamoment’sthought.Thiswarrior’saurawassmoke.Just...smoke.Thevoiceswithinitweretoomutedtomakeout.The
coloursinsideitwerebleachedofallvitality.Someone,orsomething,hadcauterisedthisman’sspirit.Hehadbeenseveredfromotherlivingbeings
inawaymostmortalswouldneverrealise.AsGyresaid,hewastherebutnotthere.‘Whodidthistoyou?’‘Ihavealreadytoldyou,’saidthestandingcorpseastheWordBearertouchedahandtohisthroat
again.‘ABloodAngel.’‘No.Whoseveredyoursoul?Whocagedyouressenceawaylikethis?’LheorandFalkuswerelookingatmeasifIwerespeakingintongues.Iignoredthem,waitingforthe
WordBearer’sanswer.‘Icannotsay,’voxedthedeadman.AgainIsensednodeceptionfromthecaptive,buthisanswerwas
vagueenoughtomeananything.‘Cannot,orwillnot?’‘Icannotsay.’‘Whatareyoutalkingabout,Khayon?’Lheorasked.‘Whodidwhattohim?’‘HismindandsoularewardedbeyondanythingIhaveeverseen.Icouldoverpowerhiswillandstill
notlearnafractionofwhathehidesinhismemory.Someonedidthistohim,butIcannotimaginewhopossessestheability.MybrotherAhriman,perhaps.OrmyfatherMagnus.’‘Ihavemetneither,’thecorpsewheezedacrossthevox.‘Thrilling,’remarkedLheor,histonelacedwithboredom.‘WhydidyousurrendertotheDuragakalEsmejhak?’Iasked.‘Fatedemandedit,’repliedthecorpse.‘Ihavenofaithinfate.Givemearealanswer.’‘Fatespinseveronwardswhetheryouregarditspassageornot,IskandarKhayon.Itisasinevitableas
theturningoftime.’Thefactheknewmynamewasnorevelation;therewereahundredwayshemighthavegleanedit.I
wasmoreconcernedwithhiszealotry,whichwasaudibleeveninadeadman’svoice.‘Givemearealanswer,’Irepeated.‘IknowwheretheVengefulSpiritishidden.Ibringthatloretothosewhoneeditmost.’‘Thatisahighlydubiousdegreeofgenerosity.HowdoyouknowwheretheflagshipoftheNine
Legionslies?’TheWordBearer’smismatchedeyelenseslockedtomine.‘BecauseIhavebeenaboardit.’IturnedbacktoFalkus.‘Thisisatrap.Itcannotbeanythingbutatrap.’
Lheorwasnodding.Falkuswasnot.‘Ishelying?’theSonsofHoruslegionaryasked.‘Doyousenseanydeceitinhiswords?’IwasforcedtoadmitthatIdidnot.‘Buthismindiswarded,andIhavenoideawhosealedit.’Falkuswasrelentless,andeventhenoteoftriumphcouldn’tcloakthedesperationinhisvoice.‘But
he’stellingthetruth,yes?Youcansaythatforcertain?HeknowswheretheVengefulSpiritlies?’‘Brother,didyouaskmetosailforweekspurelysoIcouldbeyourtruthdetector?’‘Isitthetruth,Khayon?’Isighed,sensingitwasalosingbattle.‘Yes,yourprisonerisspeakingthetruth.Forwhateverthatis
worth.’‘Thebesttraps,’Lheorpointedout,‘aresetwithirresistiblebait.’Thetwoofthemdescendedintoconversation–oranargument,Ipaidnoattentiontowhich.Iwasstill
watchingSargon.WhatgalledmemostabouthiswardedmindwasthatIcouldfeelhisopennessinallotherways.Hewasmakingnoefforttodeceiveus.Healmostyearnedtobecooperative,justashewillinglyworethemanaclesathiswrists.‘WhereistheVengefulSpirit?’Iaskedhim.‘OntheedgeoftheRadiantWorlds,’saidthecorpsebehindme.‘AsItoldFalkusKibre,Inowtell
you.’Ifinallylookedawayfromhim.‘Falkus,ifheneedsthedeadtospeak,howdoeshecommunicatewhen
therearenocorpsesnearby?’TheSonsofHoruslegionaryshookhishead.‘Heusuallydoesn’t.He’susedLegionbattle-signa
handfuloftimesbutwearehardlyshortofdeadbodiesontheBalefulEye,especiallynotsincetheMonumentfell.’‘Andyoubelievehim?YoubelievehecanleadustotheVengefulSpirit?’IcouldnotseeFalkus’sfacebutIcouldfeelhimweighinghisanswercarefully.‘Thisisn’taboutbelief,
Khayon.MymenandIdon’thavetheluxuryofchoice.We’redeadiftheThirdLegionhuntsusdown,anddeadifwestandandfight.Theirfleshsmithsandbloodmagesmaytakeforevertoclonetheprimarch,iftheyevermanageitatall,butIwillstrikeearlyanddenythemthechance.IfSargonislyingwemaydieoutthereontheEye’sedge.It’sariskI’mwillingtotake.’Putinsuchastarklight,IcouldseewhyFalkusconsideredittobenochoiceatall.‘Iwillcome,’Ireaffirmed.‘Iamwithyou.’Ifeltaheadachethreatening.Thetemptationburnedtosimplyreachintotheothers’mindsandconverse
inwordlesscommunion.IhadbeenaroundmymindlessRubricaekindredfortoolong,exercisingmypsychiccontrolonthosewhohadnorighttoresist.SpeakingtoothersinactualdiscussionrequiredmorepatiencethanIwasusedto.Ashur-Kaiwasdelightedbythistalkofprophecy.Ifelthimwatchingthroughmyeyes,hisfocusaskeen
asawhettedblade.Hehungeredafteranyshredandscrapoforacularpossibility.Iwaslessenamouredofsuchunreliableforesight–thedefencesthathadreshapedSargon’smindconcernedme,andFalkus’scoldsincerityonlymadeitmoretroubling.‘Weliveintheunderworlditself,’Isaid.‘Ghostsandmadmenoutnumberthoseofuswhohavestayed
sanebyathousandtoone.Ioweyou,Falkus.Idonottrustthisoracle,butIwillcomewithyou.’Lheorneverhadthechancetoagreeordisagree.Ourenemiesdidnotallowit.
Theycamefromthestorm.Thered-violettidesswelledanddarkened,filledwiththelethalbulkofthefirstwarshipploughingthroughthestorm’saethericclouds.Itcameinashakingrun,cuttingthroughtheturgidtidesandlancingintothestorm’scalmheart.Smokycontrailsofwarp-essencetrailedfromits
battlementedspiresandflaringengines.TheAnamnesiscriedoutawarningacrossthevox.Gyregaveapsychicsnarl.Lieutenantsacrossour
unitedfleethailedtheirlordsandleaders,towarnusofimminentattack.Icouldn’tseetheenemyshipsfromaboardHisChosenSon’sdeadbridge.Isawthemthroughthe
Tlaloc’socculus–seeingthembecauseAshur-Kaicouldseethem.Whentheleadvesselburstintoview,thefirstthingIsawwithmybrother’seyeswasImperialpurplearmourplatingbleach-burnedintoghostlylilac.WeknewwhotheywereevenbeforetheTlaloc’sauspexscannerstoldus.‘TheEmperor’sChildren,’cametheAnamnesis’stonelessmurmur.‘Getbacktotheship,’Ashur-Kaivoxedinthesamemoment.Throughourpsychicbond,Icouldalmost
tastehisdisgustedaggression.Falkusliftedahandtothesideofhishelm,heedingavoiceIcouldn’thear,nodoubtreceivingthesame
wordsofwarningfromthecommandcrewoftheBalefulEye.ThenhegaveanorderIwashopinghewouldn’tgive–theSonsofHoruslevelledtheirdouble-barrelledbolters,notatmycompanionsandI,butatLheorandhiswarriors.Forhispart,theWorldEaterscommandermadenohostilemove.‘Don’tthreatenme,’Lheorsaid,ascalmastheblacknessbetweenworlds.‘I’mmanythings,Falkus,but
I’mnotaliar.Iwouldn’tbringbetrayaltoneutralground.’‘Noothersoulknewofthismeeting,’Falkushadhisswordinhishandnow,facingtheimpassiveWorld
Eater.Lheorwashelmed,sohissmilewassomethingIsensedratherthansaw.Hetiltedhisheadinamused
disregard,consideringhowbesttoaddresstheunravellingthreadsbeforehim.‘Brothers...’thestandingcorpsehissed,asSargonsoughttocalmthemdown.Iwastheonetostandbetweenthem,myaxeheavyinmylefthand.Allthreeofuswereroughlyofa
height.‘Hedidnotbetrayus,’IstaredintoFalkus’seyelenses,seeingthereflectionofmyownKheltaran-
crestedhelm,andtuningoutthesoundofAshur-KairepeatedlydemandingIreturntotheship.YouknowLheor,IsentthewordsasalancethroughthestubbornwallsofFalkus’sironcladthoughts.
WhywouldhebetrayyoutothedogsoftheThirdLegion?Hedespisesthemasmuchasyou.Moreso,afterSkalathrax.Loweryourweaponsbeforeyouturnoneofyourlastalliesintoanenemy.Ithoughthemightstillpresstheissue.Ittookafiercehearttoleadanywarband,andtheundercurrentof
self-righteousragewasiceinhisveins.ButFalkusturnedtohismen,voxingordersforthemtorun.Therewasnothingtobeproudofinthewaytheyfledthechamber,exceptforthetruthofnecessity.EventhoughtheSons’squadsfellbackinadmirableorder,itwasstillaretreat.Thelackofgravitywasanaidtothemastheykickedofffromthewallsandlauncheddownthehallways,headingtothehangarbayswheretheirgunshipswaited.Sargonrosetohisfeet,makingnoattempttoflee.Incuriousrhythm,asherose,thecorpsehehad
animatedslouchedintotruelifelessness,nolongerboundtohiswill.Ialsostoodmyground,thoughnotoutofpride.Isimplyhadanotheravenueofescape.‘Comewithme,’IsaidtoLheorandFalkus.‘Allofyou.Bringyourmen.Yourshipswillbedead
beforeyoueverreachthem.TheTlalocisonthestorm’sedge,andreadytorun.’‘Youcangetusoffthisship?’Lheor’squestionwasathroatygrowl.‘Yes.’‘Youhaveateleportationcruciblecapableoflockingondespitethestorm?’‘No.’Lheorshookhishead.‘Thensparemefromthewhimsofsorcerers.’Heturnedtorun,kickingofffrom
thedeckandsoaringtowardsthewide-opendoorsleadingtotheship’sspinalthoroughfare.Hiswarriorshadalreadyfled.‘Falkus,’Ibegan.‘Fortunebewithyou,Khayon.’Withthat,hefledafterhismenwithaheavy-steppedgrace,hauling
Sargonbythewarpriest’sshoulder-guard.Iwatchedthemleave,silentlycursingthemforfools.Ashur-Kai’svoiceinmyearhadanairofsardonicnursemaiding.‘Icannotconceivewhyyouarenotbackaboardtheshipyet,’hemuttered.‘YoudorealisetheseThird
Legionfoolsarelaunchingboardingcraft,Sekhandur?ThatissomethingIshouldnotneedtopointout.’Afterhisdryreprimand,IheardhimcallouttotheTlaloc’sbridgecrew,orderingthemtoreadythe
shipforsubmersionbackintothestorm.‘Willyoupleasemakehaste?’headded,speakingtomeagain.‘Opentheconduit.’Ididn’treply.Iwaswatchingtheocculusscreenthroughhiseyes,seeingthroughourbond.Ourships
werealreadyoutnumbered.Theenemyfleethadbrokenformation,eagerforthekill,poweringclosertoreachterminalweaponrange.Initialtorpedosalvoesalreadycutthedustyvoid,streamingfireastheydivedtowardsourvessels.Behindthewarheadsalvoes,inthescreen’slowerquadrant,flickeringauspexrunestrackedboarding
craftcuttingrightforus.Notjustatourships,butalsothecrippledhulkofHisChosenSon.Thefirstimpactswerecoming.Wehadfiveships.Fiveagainstseven.Falkus’sflagship,theBalefulEye,wasacruiseroflethalbeauty
capableofrunningagainstthebestinanyLegionfleetinherprime,butthosedayswerefarbehindher.Shewasrivenbyscarsinflictedinouryearsofexile.RoyalSpearwasasleekhuntress,along-rangekillerbestsuitedforrunningaloneinthedeepcold,hardlyarmedorarmouredforprotractedfleetengagementsevenwithouttheabundantwoundsshewore.AndRiseoftheThreeSuns,mybrother’snewestwarship,lookedasthoughithaddiedmonthsagoandforgottentostopsailing.JawsoftheWhiteHound,armouredintheredandbronzeplatingoftheXIILegion,wasalready
pullingclosetothedeadship’swreck,readytoretrieveLheorandhiswarriorsfromHisChosenSon.Ifshejoinedthefight–afactIwasnotwillingtorelyon–shecoulddueloneofthedestroyersorsmallercruisers,butshewasnexttouselessagainsttheprimarycapitalships.Fivetoseven.Evenoneononetheywouldhavedestroyedus.Iwasraisingmyaxetoopentheconduitwhenthevox-networkexplodedinconflictingvoices,each
bringingitsownshareoffreshcurses.ThroughAshur-Kai’seyes,Isawwhy.Huge,treacheroussilhouetteswerebreakingcloudcoveratthestorm’sedge,cominginfromeverydirection.Itwasnolongerjustfivetoseven.Escapehadbeenanillusion,andIcouldn’thelpbutadmirethe
surgicalprecisionoftheambush.Whoeverwantedusdeadhadarrangedourmurderstoperfection.Theleadvesselwasabattleship,itsbluntprowshapedintothegolden,ripped-wingavatarofa
crucifiedImperialeagle.Thatshipalonewouldhavebeencapableoftearingallfiveofourvesselstopieces.Thefactthatitsailedattheheadofamurder-fleetonlyaddedinsulttoinjury.Theyweren’tevenholdingtoanattackformation.Theydidn’tneedto,theyknewtheyhadusbythethroat.Thisfleetwasfar,fartoolargetobebroughttogetherforthisloneengagement.Surelytheywerepartof
thearmadathathadravagedLupercalios,taskednowwithhuntingdowntheSonsofHorussurvivors.‘Wearebeinghailed,’saidAshur-Kai.‘Orrather,youarebeinghailed.’Iwatcheddeathsailingcloserintheformofthecolossalbattleship,withtheshark-spreadofitslesser
kindredtrailingbehind.‘Acceptit,’Ireplied.Thevoicethatcrackledoverthevoxwasunfamiliar.Itwasalsorestrainingitself–Icouldhearthe
smile,thesuppressedtriumphinthetone,butthespeakerheldbackfromdirectgloating.Suchrarerestraint,foroneofhisLegion.‘CaptainIskandarKhayonoftheTlaloc.’Hespoke‘captain’asCuaThāruāquei,‘leaderofsouls’,in
perfectTizcanProsperine.IhadalwaysimaginedIwouldbekilledbyablood-maddenedFenrisianprimitive,andhereIwasabouttobemurderedbyascholar.‘IamKhayon.ThoughIhavenotcalledmyselfacaptainforsometime.’‘Timeschange,dotheynot?AmIalsoaddressingthecommanderoftheJawsoftheWhiteHound,
CenturionLheorvineUkris,knownbythename“Firefist”?’‘Don’tcallmeFirefist,’Lheorvoxedbackatonce.Hesoundedneitherangrynoroffended,thoughI
knewhewasalmostcertainlyboth.Behindhisreply,Icouldhearthemutedwhirringofhisarmourjointsashesprintedthroughtheship.‘IamKadalusoftheThirdLegion,andmyrankisSardaroftheSixteenth,Fortieth,andFifty-First
Companies.Asyourbridgecrewsmayhavealreadyrelayedtoyou,myfleetisnotfiringonyourvessels,onlyuponthecruisersinSonsofHoruscolours.Inthatregard,Ibringyouanoffer:yourlives.IhavenoquarrelwiththeThousandSonsortheEatersofWorlds.Getbacktoyourshipsandyouwillbeallowedtosailbackintothestorm,unbloodiedandunbroken.’‘SardarKadalus,’Ireplied,‘Idobelieveyouarelyingtous.’Acrackleofvoxdidnothingtohidehisgrimy,knowingchuckle.‘JustletmetakeFalkusandhismen,
Khayon.Ihavenointerestinyourpettyconjurings,norinthatfoolFirefist.SoIsayagain,getbacktoyourships,andleavetheSonsofHorustome.YouhavemywordthatIwillletyoulive,andyoumaycarrythetaleofmymercywithyoubacktoyourstrongholds.’‘WhatdrivesyoutohuntFalkuswithsuchtenacity?’Iasked.‘Heisoneofthem,’saidKadalus.Oneofthem.AlegionaryoftheSonsofHorus.TheLegionthatleftustodieontherenewedangerof
Imperialguns.Howeasyitistofleefromretribution,yethowimpossibleitistooutrunshame.‘StrangetotakethemoralhighgroundwhenyourLegion’sperformanceintheTerranWarwashardly
beneficial,Sardar.Whatwereyoudoingwhiletherestofusspentourbloodandlivesagainstthepalacewalls?’‘Ihavemademyoffer,’theSardarreplied,refusingtobebaited,thoughIwassurehewasnolonger
smiling.Ilookedbacktomycompanions.MekhariandDjedhorstoodinmutewitness.Gyrestalkedaroundthe
thronesandthedrycorpsesthatstillsatinthem,herinhumanmindunreadablebutforsullendiscontent.ThroughAshur-Kai’seyes,Iwatchedtherunicsymbolsofseveralassaultboatsdriftingclosertothe
upperdecksofHisChosenSon.Wehadlessthanaminutebeforethefirstboardersstruckiron.‘IfearImustrefuse,Kadalus.IappreciatetheofferbutIwouldn’ttrustyoutoburnevenifIwasthe
onetosetyouaflame.Yourwordislessthanexcrementtome,sonofFulgrim.’Helaughed,rightfullyassuredofhisvictorywhetherwebetrayedFalkusornot.‘Thatisashame,Khayon.Andwhatofyou,Firefist?’‘I’mwiththeTizcan.’IheardLheor’sreinforcedbronzeteethclicktogetherashegrinned.‘Butifyou
surrendernow,perhapsI’llbemerciful.’‘IsthiswhatpassesfordefianceinyourLegion,Lheorvine?’‘No,it’swhatpassesforhumour.’Lheor’steethclickedtogetheragain.Thevox-linktoKadaluswent
deadinasmearofstatic.Iamopeningtheconduit,IsenttoAshur-Kai.Hisreplywasawordlesspulseofirritationathowlong
ithadtakenmetoagree.
Keepingyoursensesboundtoanother’smindisnoeasyfeat,eventhroughapsychicbondasstrongastheoneIsharedwithAshur-Kai.Icouldnotopentheconduitandremainmind-linkedwithmybrother,soIbracedmyselfforthewaspishseverancetocome.IfelthimlifthisswordasIraisedmyaxe.Hundredsofkilometresseparatedus,butIfelttheunityof
movement,justasIfeltthewaywebothstoppedinthesamesecond,withourbladesheldhigh.Ready,Isent.Ready,hepulsedbackinthesamemoment.Mekhari.Djedhor.Tome.Mydeadbrothersmarchedtomyside,boltersbracedtofire.Gyrecircledthethreeofus,snarling
silentlyinmymind.MysensessnappedbackfromAshur-Kai’swithawhipcrackofforce.Withmyaxe,Icutawoundin
reality.
Myaxehadaname,asallweaponsshould.ItwascalledSaern,‘Truth’inthedialectsofseveralFenrisianclans,mostnotablytheDeinlyrtribe.IhadcarriedSaernsinceProsperoburned,whenItookthebladefromthelifelessgripofawarrior
whocamefartooclosetokillingme.Atthetime,Iknewnothingofhimbeyondthefacthecarriedhateinhiseyesanddeathinhisfists.ManyoftheLegions’ritualsandhabitsreflectedthebrutalsimplicityofthemostprimalcultures:those
tribalsocietiesofhumanity’sStoneEra,orwarriorculturesofitsBronzeandIronEpochs.TakingtrophiesfromenemyLegionsisbeyondmerelycommon;itisasexpectedandinformalasthehabitualexchangeofposturingandthreatsbetweenrivalcommanders.ManyoftheAdeptusAstartesChaptersthatwerespawnedfromthespinelessbreakingoftheGreat
Crusadeforcesconsiderthemselvesabovesuchbehaviour,butweoftheNineLegionsrarelyshyawayfromindulginginevocativethreats.Agreatdealofawarband’srespectamongitskindredcomesdowntoitswarlord’sreputation,afterall.Hiswarriorswillshouthistriumphstothefoe,andcryouttheirenemy’sdefeats.Sotheclaimingofweaponsandarmourfromthefallenisnorarething.Despitethat,eventhoughIno
longeroweanyallegianceordevotiontotheThousandSons,myskinstillcrawlstoimaginehowmanyrelicstheWolvesborewiththemfromthebonesofProspero.Myirerisesfromhowtheyconsideredourtreasuresmaleficarum,‘tainted’,andalmostcertainlydestroyedthemratherthanwieldtheminbattle.Atleastthereisrespectimpliedinthewieldingofanenemy’sweapon.IdidnotkeepSaernforso
manyyearsafterProsperooutofpettyspiteforitsmakers;Icarriedittowarbecauseitwasabeautiful,reliableblade.Toconsignsuchrelicstoruinationisafarbleakerinsult.Saern’shaftwasaslongasmyarm,forgedofgreyadamantiumandmarkedwithacid-etchedrunesin
theFenrisianTharkadialect.Thesymbolstoldthetaleofitsfirstbearer’srisetohisplaceasachampionamongtheWolves,withthespirallinglettersrelayingdozensofvictoriesagainstaliens,traitorsandrebelsduringtheGreatCrusade.IendedthatstorywhenItooktheaxefromhisdeadhands.Intheyearsthatfollowed,Ihadthehaftreconstructed,threadedthroughwithshardsofpsychically
attunedblackcrystalfromaworldwithintheEye.Theseranlikeveinsdowntheweapon’slength,frompommeltoblade.Althoughtheirprimaryusewasinremakingtheweaponasafocusforpsychicrelease,theyalsoreactedwithacertain‘hostility’whenanyonebutmetouchedthehandle.Theaxeitselfwasaweighty,single-bladedcleaver,itsedgecurvedlikeacrescentmoon.Agolden
wolf’sheadbareditsteethtowardstheblade’skillingedge;whentheaxewasactivated,thecoruscatinglightningplayedacrossitsferalfeatures,seeminglybringingthebeasttosnarlinglife.
Ihadotherweapons–bolters,pistols,blades,evenaspeartakenfromaneldarsoul-witch–butItreasurednoneofthemasmuchasSaern.AsIcutdownwards,theblackcrystalsflaredwiththechimingsongofactivation.Thebladetore
throughrealityandunrealityalike–nothingmanifestedintheair,noslitofviolentenergyandshriekingsouls.Butthecutwasthere,andIcouldfeelthethingsdistantlyontheotherside.Theirprofanehunger.Theiracidicneeds.Silent,astheysensedtheirchanceatfreedom.Ireachedfortheinvisibleslice,sensesstraininglikeclawedfingers,andpeeledthewoundopen.
Beyondtheriplayabsoluteblack–ablacknotofnothingness,butofblindness.Mortalsensescouldn’tprocesswhatlaythroughtheopening.Ifeltthedistanthungergrowmuchlessdistant.Somewhere,Ashur-Kaiwaitedontheotherside.Hewaitedwithhisswordinhand,nexttothesimilar
woundinrealityhe’dmadeaboardtheTlaloc.TheNeverbornspilledthroughbothwoundsinthesamemoment.MybrotherandIstartedfightingatthe
sametime.
THERAGGEDKNIGHT
‘Humanityhasalwayslookedskywardsforitstruepath.’Whofirstspokethosewords?Inallthemillenniaofmylife,Ihaveneveryetdiscoveredthesentiment’s
origins.PerhapsIneverwill,ifmyInquisitorialhostschoosetoexecuteme.However,Isuspecttheyaretoointelligenttotry.Attemptingtomurdermewillnotendwellforthem.MybrotherAhriman,whosewisdomwasbeyondquestionuntilheallowedpridetobefoulhisthoughts,
wasespeciallyfondofthatquote.BeforeIstoodcladinblack,whenAhrimanandIwerebrothersintruthratherthanmerelylinkedbyblood,Iwouldattendhislecturesonthenatureofourspeciesandtheuniverseweclaimedasourown.Inourdebateshewouldquotethosewords,andIwouldsmilebecausetheyweresoverytrue.Mankindhasalwayssoughtitsanswersintheheavens.Thefirsthumanslookedtothesun,worshipping
aballoffusionfireasagodincarnatedinthesky–adeityoflightthatbroughtlifeandbanishedallfearofdarknesswitheverydawn.Itisapowerfulsymbol.Evennow,thereareprimitiveworldswithintheImperium’sever-diminishing
bordersthatworshiptheEmperorasasungod.Mankind’sinstitutionscarenothowtheherdsofitshumanlivestockpayfealtytotheEmperor,aslongastheunquestioningworshipandtheEcclesiarchaltithenevercease.Whenthephilosophersofthoseearliestculturesnolongerfearedthedark,thenightskybecamea
celestialgardenwherethestarsandplanetsthemselveswereplacedintopoetic,arbitraryconstellations,andheraldedasthebodiesofdistantgodsandgoddesseslookingdownuponhumanity.Allthewhilewelookedup.Seeking,reaching,wanting.DoyouhesitatewhenIsay‘we’?Isitwrongofmetoplacemyselfandmykindamongthevarious
strandsofthehumangeneticcobweb?TheImperiumbetraysitsgreatestignorancewhenitbelievesthoseoftheNineLegions,andthemortals
whofollowus,tobesomeunknowable,alienspecies.Knowledgeofthewarpisjustthat:knowledge.Nochange,nosecretandnotruthcanrewriteeveryportionofone’ssoul.Iamnothuman.IhavenotbeenhumansinceIwaselevenyearsold,whentheThousandSonsLegion
tookmefrommyfamilyandreshapedmeintoaweaponofwar.ButIamwroughtfromahumancore.Myemotionsarehumanemotions,retunedandrefinedthroughpost-humansenses.Myheartsaremortalhearts,yetchanged;theyarecapableofimmortalhateandimmortaldesire,farbeyondthosefeltbyourfoundationspecies.WhenweoftheNineLegionsthinkofhumankind,beyondtheirobvioususeasslavesandthrallsand
subjects,weseekindredspirits.Notaspeciestobereviled,butaweak,ignorantherdthatmustbe
guidedthroughsovereignrule.Humanityisastateofbeingthatformsourroots.Notourenemy.Justastepbeneathusontheevolutionarycoil.So,yes.Isay‘we’.Overtime,mankindlookedtotheheavensforknowledgeratherthanmattersoffaith.Theseearly
civilisationsevolvedpastworshipingstars,turningnowtotheplanetsorbitingthem.Theseworldswereapromisedlandofhopefulexpansion.Humanitycataloguedthem,imaginedsailingtheblackskiesinshipsofarmouredirontocolonisethem,andeventuallysoughtlifeuponthem.Stillwesoughtmore.Andsoonenough,wefoundit.Thewarp.Theempyrean.TheGreatOcean.TheSeaofSouls.Whenmankindfirstdiscoveredthewarp,usingittotravelunimaginabledistances,weknewsolittleof
themalevolencethatdwelledwithinitseternaltides.Wesawalienentities–theseinhumancreaturesformedfromtheaether–butneverthemalicebehindthem,northegreatandmalignantintelligencesthatgavebirthtothem.Wesawonlyarealitybehindourown,anoceaninconstantflux,thatneverthelessmadejourneysof
centuriesachievableinmereweeks.Distancesthatwouldhavetakenahundredgenerationstocrosswerepossibleinamatterofmonths.ShieldedinGellerfields,impenetrablebubblesofmaterialreality,humanity’sfirstempyronautstookourspeciestothefartheststarsandtheworldsthatspunintheiralienlight.Wehadnoidea.Inthosedaysofhalcyonignorance,wehadnoideaweweresailingthroughHell.We
hadnoideawhatswamwithinthosetides,waitingforouremotionstogivethemshape.Thedenizensofthewarphaveuncountablenamesacrossuncountablecultures.Ihaveheardthem
namedastheSoulless;astheTen-Gu;asShedim;Dhaimonion;Numen;asgeists,wraiths,daevas;astheFallen;astheNeverborn,andaworldofothers.Yetallofthem,acrosstenthousandcultures,echothesameontologicalcore.Daemon.
ThemomentIwrenchedtheriftopen,MekhariandDjedhoropenedfireinperfectunison.Thebarksoftheirbolterswererenderedsilentontheairlesscommanddeck,butthegunsbuckedinharmonyfromtherecoil-kickinherentinthistypeofweapon.ThefirstNeverborncrawledthroughtheconduitintothecoldvacuumofreality,andrightintoastorm
ofboltshellsthatbursttheircadaverousfleshapartinthick,wetstreaksofaethericichor.AlthoughmyvisionwasseparatedfromAshur-Kai’s,enoughofourbondremainedformetosensehisownactions:he’dcuttheconduit’sexitaboardtheTlaloc’sbridge,whichwouldbeagravethreatwerehenotalsoguardedbyaphalanxofourRubricae.Theirboltersopenedupinawitheringstorm,devastatingthecreaturesseekingtocomethrough.Ididn’thaverankuponrankofRubricaeatmyside,butthefirstspillofinhumanfleshwasweak
enoughtobeheldbackbyMekhariandDjedhoralone.Gyrewasablackblur,adaemonintheskinofadirewolf,herclawsandfangsdrippingwithdissolvingviscera.Shetoreintothethingswithabandon,relishingtheslaughterofsuchweakprey.WhenImperialscholarspreachofdaemonkindasasingularhordeunitedagainsthumanity,theyspeak
thefalsestwordsoftheirlives.Daemonsarebornintolimitlessbreedsandsubspecies,warringagainstoneanotherfarmoreoftenthantheywagewaragainstmortals.Eventhoseofthesamechoirsandpantheonswillbutcheranddevourtheirkindredoutofboundlesshate,orfightaccordingtotheunknowablepactsthatbindthem.IhaveseenentireworldsgivenovertofeudinghostsallsworntotheWarGod.Itdoesn’tmatterthateverydaemonintheteemingbillionswasbornatthebaseofhisthrone.
Manifestedaslessershardsoftheirfather’seternalrage,theyknownothingbutbloodshed.ThechildrenoftheotherGodsarethesame,fightingtheirownwarsintheirownways.Gyrewasboundtome,pactedbyoath,blood,andsoul.Yetshehadbeendestroyingherownkindfor
aneternitybeforeshewillinglyleashedherselftome.Here,intheheartofthestorm,thefirstNeverbornreachingthroughtheconduitwereuninspiringthings,
scrabblingfreeanddyingtoourweaponsbeforetheycouldthreatenus.Theirstrongerkindredwouldsoonstir–drawntotheconduitbymysoulfireandthedrummingofmybeatinghearts–butwehadtime.ThiswashardlythefirstconduitmybrotherandIhadcutopen.Theshipshookbeneathus.Boardingtorpedoes,strikingnearby.IbackhandedSaernacrosstheheadof
somethingwiththreefaces,andkickedthedecapitatedremainsdownthestairs.Iadvisehaste,Ashur-Kairepeated.Youcannotbeintrouble,Isent.YouhaveacompanyofRubricaethere.Iamreferringtothebattlefleetbearingdownonus.ThebravadothatyouandLheorvinesimply
couldnotresisthasensuredtheenemywillfireonus.Ifwelinger,theEmperor’sChildrenwillcatchus.Theshipisonlysixminutesfrombreakingbackintothestorm,Khayon.Doyouwishtotryenteringthisconduitthen?Canweholditstableinthosewinds?AlecturefromAshur-Kai,evenhere,evennow.Nothingeverchanged.Iamalmostready.Somethingsquirmedatmyshin.Somethingmadeofshiveringlimbsandbareorgans,without
discernibleeyes.Ipulpeditwithacrushingboot.Onecannotlookdirectlyatdaemons.Theyarecreaturesbornfromtheemotionsandnightmaresof
mortals,andpulledforthfromtheimmensesentienceofopposingGods.Perhapsmoreaccurately,mortalsenses–eventhoseattunedtothedaemonicandtheprofane–struggletofocusontheNeverborn’sincarnatedforms.Ourmindsapplyexpectationandstructuretosomethingthatdefiesunderstanding,letalonedescription.Nomatterhowhardwestare,wearestillmortalmindsseekingtobearwitnesstosomethingthatshouldnotexist.Atbest,thisleavesamurkyauraaroundtheNeverborn,renderingthemasnebulousasamirage.At
worst,andfarmorecommonly,allthatcanbegleanedfromtheirphysicalincarnationsareahandfulofimpressionsandsensations:ascent,amemory,asightofsomethingindefinite.Redflesh.Paleskin.Fangs.Adry,cinnamoncorpse-stink,withafeelingofbladedthreat.Eyesthat
burninthedark.Aswordofblackironthatwhispersindeadtongues.Theshadowofwings,andthereekofferalbreath.Clawssteamingwiththeacidkissofsometoxicpoison.Somethingleaptatmefromtheside,athrashingweightclingingtomyfaceplate.Ihadthebriefest
imageofpliant,uncookedmeatquiveringagainstmyeyelenses,withatighteningofsomevilelimbaroundmythroatandshoulder.Withaheavingjerk,itwasgone–Iheardatoo-humanshriekinmymindasitwasrippedfree.A
bleedingshapelessnesswasdissolvinginGyre’sjaws,breakingapartlikefadingsmoke.IturnedawaytohammerSaernthroughthespindlytrunkofastick-thincreaturethathadbrittlescalpelsforfingers.Theaxesentthedaemontothedeckintwopieces.Thankyou,IsenttoGyre.Nowgo.Istay.Ifight.Ikill.Go!Theshe-wolf,herfurmadeofsmokeandblackfire,tookarunningleapatthewoundinreality.She
crashedagainstoneofthefleshyNeverborntearingitswayfree,landingatopitinafrenzyofclawsandflashingfangs,andthetwoofthemvanishedintotheconduit.
Gyreisthrough.Ashur-Kai’svoicechimedinmyheadthemomentmywolfdisappeared.MekhariandDjedhorwerenext.Returntotheship.Khayon,Djedhorsentbackinmindlessacknowledgement.Bothofthemstartedforwards,firingfrom
theshoulderastheymarchedintotheseethingwound.Clawsscratchedineffectivelyattheirarmourastheywadedthroughthestuntedthingssurroundingthem.Beforetheyentered,Mekhari’slastboltburstopenacreaturethatlookedtobemadefromoverlappingrollsofbonelessflesh.Mekhariisthrough,Ashur-Kaisent.AndDjedhor?OnlyMekhari.Theconduitshiveredinpsychicsympathywithmysuddenpulseofconcern,rippingwider.Icouldsee
theboilingblacknessthroughtheslitinreality,andIcouldfeelAshur-Kaidistantlyontheotherside.Thepyre-smokesmellofstrongerdaemonfleshfilledmysenses.Notlongnow.Notlongatall.WhatofDjedhor?Stillnosign,Ashur-Kaireplied.Theshipistakingfire.Wehavenotimeforyouridiotic
sentimentality.ButIcouldn’tgo.Ihadtokeeptheconduitopen.Itpulledatmyattention,leachingmyfocusand
slowingmyreactions.Keepingitopenwasaneffortofconcentrationnodifferentfromfightingwhilecarryingaheavyburden.Ihadtoremain;themomentIenteredit,itwouldclose.ButDjedhor–HeisasingleRubricae,Sekhandur.Move!Instinctalmosthadmeobeyinghim.ItwasoneofourLegion’straditionstopairyoungsorcererswith
veteranmasters,aswellasencouragingthecreationofinformalcovensoflikemindedscholarsandloyalapprentices.Ashur-Kaihadbeenmymentorbeforehewasmybrother.HehadbeenoneofthosemostdevotedtoguidingmeinlearningtheArt,butIwasnolongerhispupilsworntoheedhiseveryorder.IhadbeentherankingofficerbeforetheHeresy,andtheTlalocwasmyship.Iamnotleavinghim.IwillholdthegatewayforDjedhor.Aswillyou.Saerncleavedthroughashriekingsomethingmadeofbleedingglass.Whatpassedforitsblood
drenchedmyarmourinpatternsthatwouldlikelymeansomethingofastralsignificancetoseerslikeAshur-Kai.Beforemyformermastercouldreply,Djedhorburstbackthroughtheconduit,wreathedinaseething
massofcoiled,drowned-lookingfleshthatwrappedeverylimb,everyjoint,evenblindingthelifelessglareofhiseyelenses.Mouthsbloomedopenonthecreature’sprehensileskin,slaveringuselesslyagainsttheRubricae’sarmour,butpressurecracksventeddustyairwherethething’sgripsplinteredtheceramite.Icouldn’thackitclearwithouthittingDjedhor.Icouldn’tshootitforthesamereason.Mypistolwasa
heavy-boreKjaroskurolaserweaponforgedlongbeforetheHeresy.IfIfiredthethree-barrelledfirearmatthecreature,itwouldigniteandtakeDjedhorwithitintoincineration.Anotherventofdustyairgushedfree,thistimeatDjedhor’sthroat.Ihadtoriskdivertingmyfocusfrom
theconduit,evenifonlyforasecond.WhenIsaywecallpsychicmastery‘theArt’,Iamnotseekingtolionisethosewhocarrythegift,or
injectsorcerywithundeservedmystique.Itisacraftlikeanyother,requiringstudy,practiceandtuitiontobegin,andneedingconstantefforttogainproficiency.Truecontrolrequiresritualwork,orthecarefulblendingofseveraldisciplinestoweavetheenergiesintomaterialreality.Butthemostbasicandimpreciseunleashingsrequirelittletraining.Toreach,topull,toburn.Thesethingscancomenaturallytoevenanuntrainedsoul.
Ididn’tweaveinthatmoment,nordidIreach,asIsooftendidwithmysenses.Ipulled,withthebluntestuseoftelekineticforce.Itoretheamalgamoftensingfleshfrommybrother’sbody,rippingitfromhimwithaviolentheaveof
telekinesis.Itleftmostofitssevered,quiveringlimbsonDjedhor’sarmour.Iallowedithalfaheartbeat’sspantothrashintheair,shudderingandseekingtoleapatme,beforeawaveofmyhandsentitburstingagainstacontrolconsoleinazero-gravitycloudofcrystallisedbloodbubbles.Getbacktotheship,IpulsedtoDjedhor,standingoverhim,defendinghimlongenoughforhimtorise
again.Atideofdaemonfleshspilledacrossthedeck,disgorgedfromthespreadingconduit.Thecreaturesweregrowinginsize,strongerdenizensofthewarpmakingitthroughthelongerIheldthegatewayopen.Iburiedmyaxeinthegulletofsomethinglitheandinsectile,pityingwhatevernightmare-struckmindhadgivenitform.Djedhormadeittohisfeet,stillventingdustyairfromhisthroat.‘Sorcerer,’cameavoiceoverthevox,scrambledbydistortion.‘Lheor?’‘Khayon.’Hewasbreathless,fighting,killing,running.‘They’veburnedourgunship.Canyougetusout
ofhere?’Inmydistraction,asI’dconcentratedonDjedhorandtheriftgushingitsunwantedgiftsofdaemonic
flesh,Ihadtunedoutofthesharedvox-channel.Lheor’svoicedraggedmebacktoit,refocusingmeonthewiderbattle.IconfessIhadabandonedtheWorldEatersandSonsofHorusfordeadthemomenttheyfledfromthecommanddeck.Iwillnotbelabourthepoint–theEmperor’sChildrenhadabladetoourcollectivethroats,andHis
ChosenSonwassooncrawlingwithwarriorsoftheIIILegion.ItiseasytolookbackwithcoldcalculationonLheorandFalkus’sthwartedescapes,especiallywhenIknewIcouldopenaconduittoretreatwithoutcaringabouttheloneStormEaglegunshipweabandonedinthewesterntertiaryhangar.‘IcangetyoutotheTlalocifyoureturnswiftly.’
Lheorwasfirst,hisarmourbearinganauraoftrailingblood-gemsinzerogravity.Heflewbackintothebridgechamber,theteethofhischainaxespinningwithoutsound.Severalofhismenfollowedinthesameraggeddrift,haloedbycrystalsofbloodandsqueezingthetriggersofrevvingchainswords.Lheorgruntedwhenhisbootslockedtothedecknearby.Ifelttwothingsfromhiminthatmoment:the
firstwashisrevulsionatwhatwascomingthroughtheopenconduit,thesecondwasthehammer-and-nailpressureofhiscranialimplants–thosebrutalaggressionamplifiersthatwerewiredsoprimitivelythroughhisbrain.Theypoundedtheheatofaforgefireintothemeatofhismind,forcingpainfulfacialticsastheyburnedhisnerves.Iclosedmyhandintoafist,shatteringthebonesoftheglobularthingI’dbeenholdingaloftina
telekineticgrip.Itcametopieces,dissolvingasitdied.‘Go,’IsaidtothesevenremainingWorldEaters.Theslitinspacewasablacksodeepandstarlessthat
itlookedliketheinsideofsomethingalive.‘Gothrough.’IsentGo,addingtheweightofwillpowersotheorderbreachedtheblood-soakedhazeoftheir
woundedbrains.Theystartedrunning,eachoftheredandbrasswarriorscleavingthroughthemanifestingNeverbornontheirwayintotheconduit.We,ah,suddenlyseemtohaveWorldEatersonboard,Ashur-Kaisentindryexasperation.Howmany?Six.Therewillbeseven.Amoment’swarningwouldhavebeenpreferable,Khayon.MyRubricaealmostannihilatedthem.
Moresoulsnearby.Iheardthemaswhispersofhalf-caughtwords,andshardsofothermen’smemories.AdisorderlygroupofEmperor’sChildrenarmouredinblack,silverandpastelhuesofroseandcoral
driftedinthroughthestrategium’seasterndoorways.Severalofthemcrawledalongtheceilingandwalls.Allofthemwerelookingatme,andthefirstofthemraisedpistolsandboltersintheraggedunityknownonlytoLegion-brothers.Myeyelensesflashed,markingeverythreatwithtargetingsubreticules.Theyfired.Isawthemuzzleflickersofignitingshells.Mysenseswerestilllockedonmaintainingthe
conduit,seeingmoreofthespectralthanthematerial.Icouldseethewarriors’auras,thefeveredemanationsofthoughtandemotionthatsurroundedthem;inthesamesecond,Isawthepathsoftheirboltershells,knowingwheretheywouldstrikeifIallowedit.Myhandcameup,palmtowardstheintruders.Itfeltsoslow.Itcannothavebeenslow–allofthis
happenedbeforemyheartcouldbeattwice–butitisacommonenoughsensationamongthepsychicallygifted.Whenweuseourpowerstomanipulatetheaether,itseemstorenderallmundanesensationsluggish.IstoodwithmypalmraisedtowardstheEmperor’sChildrenandsaid,verycalmly,‘Ithinknot.’Theshellsburstagainsttheripplingbarrieroftelekinesisbeforeme.Ilettheshieldfallonceits
purposewasserved.Djedhorwasstillfiring,hisfocusontheNeverborn.LheorhadhisheavybolteraimedattheEmperor’sChildren,awaitingmyword.ButasIloweredmyhand,theEmperor’sChildrendidn’tfireagain.Isensedtheirunease,arippling
tideofitpressingagainstmysenses,assaltyassweatandassourasbile.Sorcerer,theirmindswerehissing.Sorcerer.Sorcerer.Stayback.Becautious.Sorcerer.Thesquad’sleadertoucheddownonthedeckwithamagneticlockingofhisclawedboots.Hissword
hungathiship,notinhishand,andhishelm’sfaceplatewasasilverburialmask,showingahandsomefaceofsurpassingserenity.Somethingdrawnfromthebleakgrandeurofhumanmyth.‘CaptainKhayon.’Suchavoice.Avoicetopreachgentlyandpassionatelyfromthepulpit.Avoiceto
swaysoulsandcleanseconsciences.‘Iwouldspeakwithyoubeforeyourun.’Hisarmourwasblack,edgedbyplatesofmetallicrose.Boneshowedthroughtheceramite,notin
violent,knucklyprotrusionsbutinsculptedartistry,inscribedwithChemosianrunestellingtalesIcouldonlyguessfromthisdistance.AtfirstIthoughtdead,flayedskinwascloakedoverhisshoulders.Theillusionwasshatteredwhenseveralofthefacesmoved.Tomytargetinglocks,theskinnedfacesonhiscloakwerenothingbutlifelessflesh.Tomysecondsight,theyyetlivedinsomestunted,flayedexistence–lunglessandtongueless,moaningonlyinsilenttorment.‘Donotseektoshootmeagain,’Ireplied.‘Itirritatesme.’‘SoIsee.Anddoyourecogniseme?’Ididnot,andtoldhimso.IhadseenhundredsofbrothersandcousinsamongtheNineLegionssince
ourexileintotheEye,andthoughmanyboresignsofthewarp’stouchorchangeswroughtthroughtheArt,Ihadneverseenacloakofsilentlyscreamingfaces,nordidIrecognisehimbeneaththechangesthathadovertakenhisarmour.HewasfarfromtheSpaceMarinehehadbeen.Butthen,sowereweall,forbetterorworse.‘Telemachon,’heofferedhisnamewiththesameinspiringsoftnessthatimpliedneitherkindnessnor
weakness.‘OnceCaptainTelemachonLyraloftheThirdLegion’sFifty-FirstCompany.’MyhandstightenedonSaern’shaft.Hesawitandinclinedhishead.‘Nowyourememberme,’hesaid.Oh,yes.NowIdid.AndIhadtheRaggedKnightwithme.Temptationburnedinmyblood,sharpand
hot,realenoughtofeel.Go,IsenttoDjedhor.Heobeyed,stillfiringintotheNeverborn,andvanishedintotheconduit.Ashur-
Kai’svoicechimedbackatonce.
Djedhoristhrough.ThemomentAshur-Kaiutteredthosewords,animmenseweightboredownuponallofus.Gravity
returnedtothestrickenshipwithqueasyforce,andthebridge’sillume-globes,deadandbaretothevoidfordecades,flickeredbacktolife.Floatingcadaversdroppedtothedeck,breakingintodesiccatedruin.Thebridge’sstrugglinglightcastapaleglowoverthoseofuswhowoulddefilethisdeep-spacetombwithourownselfishbloodshed.Lheorcursedashewaspulledtohisknees,fightinghardtoregainhisbalance.They’dreactivatedthe
generators–nodoubttodetonatethehulkortakeitassalvage.Mysenseswereaflameinthecoldwiththepressuringnearnessofsomuchlife.MoreEmperor’s
Children,floodingdownthepassageways.More,more,more.Telemachonandhismenstalkedcloser,waryofusnow.Waryofme.LheorliftedhisheavybolterbutIlowereditagainwithapressofmyhand.Untended,unheld,the
conduitcollapsedinuponitself.TheNeverborn’swailsfellsilent,thoughnotbeforeonelastcreatureracedthroughintothechamber.Ablackhuntress,feralandsnarling.Iorderedyoubacktotheship,Isenttoher,andreceivedonlydevoteddefianceinreturn.Whereyouhunt,Ihunt.Mywolf.Myloyal,belovedwolf.Hide,Idemanded.Beready.Gyrevanishedintomyshadowwithafamiliar,savageheartbrushingagainstmymind.Thereshelayin
wait,hiddenandhungering.Withoutaword,IcastatarotcardontothedeckbeforetheEmperor’sChildren,andwaitedforthemto
die.
Permitmeamomenttotellyouatale–ataleofbloodandbetrayalthattookplaceaneternitybeforethislast,darkmillennium,andmanydozensofcenturiesbeforeLheorandIstoodaboardthewreckofHisChosenSon.Anancientstory,butonewithstarkrelevance,Ipromiseyou.ThisstorytakesplaceintheimpiousagesofOldEarth,inalandknownasGawl,alsocalledthe
FranckishEmpire.AprincelyholymanoftheSteelErathatfollowedtheBronzeandIronEpochsbelievedhimselfabletohearthewordsofhisfacelessdeity.Toreflecthisself-proclaimedpurity,hetakesthenameInnocent,andthenhetakeshisfollowerstowar.LordInnocentcallsacrusadetoeradicateahereticalsect,whichourfragmentedhistoriesrefertoas
theKarthur.Hedemandstheybeburnedfortheirsinsagainsttheimaginarygod.Buttheseholywarriors–theseknights–cladinprimitivearmourandwieldingswordsofsteel,aretheprincesandlordsoftheirrealm.Tothem,thevirtuesofnobilityandhonourmatteraboveall.Thepeopleoftheirempirelooktothemforjustice,andtheirsarethebladesthatdefendthevirtuousweakfromtheevilstrong.Untiltheiroverlord,Innocent,blessesthem.Hedeclarestheiractionstobesacreddeedsdoneinthe
nameofthegodtheybelievetobereal.Anycrimestheycommitinthiswarwillbeignored.Anysinsshallbeforgiven.Siegecraftinthisbygoneageisfoughtwithcatapultsofmetalandwoodthathurlbouldersofstone.City
wallsarebroughtdownbytheseprimitivemachines,crewedbypeasantsandmathematiciansalike,andoncethewallsfallthefootsoldiersmarchin,ledbytheirlordsandprinces.Albajensia,thefortressoftheKarthurheretics,fallsatdawn.Thesword-bearingknightsleadtheirholy
warriorsintothecity,andwithalltheirsinsforgivenevenbeforetheyarecommitted,thecrusadersshownomercy.Thehereticsnumberednomorethanafewhundred,yetthewholecityburns.Men,women,children...allbutcheredontheknights’blessedblades.Butwhatoftheblamelessmasses?Whatofthechildrenwhoknownothingoftheirparents’heresy?
Whatofthethousandsofloyal,devoutsoulswhohavebrokennolaws,anddonotdeservedeath?‘Killthemall,’saysInnocent,theprimitiveWarmasterofhisage.‘Killthemall.OurGodwillknow
whoisloyal.’Hecondemnsthousandstodeath,notbecausetheyareguilty,butbecausehebelievesamythologicalparadiseawaitsthoseunjustlymurderedbyhismen.Andthus,thecityburns.Aninnocentpopulationiswipedfromthefaceoftheworldbythebladesthat
shouldhavedefendedthem.Likeeveryemotionanddeed,thisslaughterisreflectedintheSeaofSouls.Thehate,thefear,therage
andbittersenseofbetrayal–allofitcurdlesbehindtheveil.Fewthingsfeedthewarpassweetlyaswar,andfewwarsholdthesamerancidsymbolismasthosedeclaredbythestrongagainsttheweaktheyaresworntoprotect.Suchslaughtergivesbirthtodaemonswithintheempyrean.Countlessmewlingterrorsbornfrom
individualmomentsofsufferingandbloodlust.Abovethem,morepowerfulentitiesalsoswirlintoexistence:onebornfromablaze,deliberatelystarted,thatclaimsadozenlivesatonce;anotherarisingfromamother’sabjecthorroratseeingherchildrenspitteduponthelancesofthoseshe’dbelievedtobehernobleandholyprotectors.Theseacts,andthousandsmorelikethem,breedtheNeverborninthehellbeyondreality’sveil.Sometimes,aswiththiscrusadeofAlbajensia,adaemonisbornthatrisesaboveitssiblings,onethat
encapsulatesallthemiserablecomplexity,crueltyandblood-soakedshameofthegenocide.Imaginethatcreature,bornofthissublimebetrayal.Imagineaspiritofwargivenlifewhenawarriorcasteturnsitsbladesuponitsownpeople,actinguponthewordsofatyrant,inthenameofalie.Itsskinisthebleedingredcharcoalofscorchedflesh,likethefamilieswhoburnedintheirhomes.Its
armourisafire-blackenedmockeryofthemailedknightswhosetreacherygaveitbirth.Itcarriesasword,justasthosebutcheringknightscarriedswords,thoughitsbladeisgravenwithruniccursesheraldingtheWarGod’sglory.Thecrimsonandorangelightthatburnsbehinditseyesisthefirethatlitthehorizonasthedoomedcity
blazed.Whenitopensitsmaw,eachofitsexhaledbreathsistheechooftenthousanddyingscreams.ItcallsitselftheRaggedKnight.
Smokesurroundedus,thickasagraveshroud,withthesoundofdistantshrieking.Thesmokecouldhavebeenfromthemouthsofroaringbolters,butitwasnot.Theshriekingcouldhavebeenthewhineofweaponscarvingdurasteelonotherdecks,butagain,itwasnot.Bothemanatedfromthethingsharingthechamberwithus.Islidthedeckofpapyruscardsbackintotheirleather-skincaseandletthemhangfromthechainatmy
beltoncemore.Nexttome,Lheortwitchedwithabutcher’sneed.Irestedmyhandonhisshoulder,inwarning.‘No,’Ibreathedoverthevox.‘Donotmove.’TheEmperor’sChildrenwerespreadingacrossthecommanddeck–towardsus,aroundus,allsquad
unitylost.Thesmokehadturnedthemintonomorethanarmouredsilhouetteswithgleamingblueeyelenses.Wewatchedthempanningtheirpistolsandboltersthroughthesmokeastheyadvanced.Severalofthemcarriedsearchlightsontheirshoulders,whichlitupwithactivationsnaps,castingtheirbeamsthiswayandthat,butthesmokeresistedmundaneillumination.Thebeamplayedoverustwice,sweepingleftandright.Myeyelensestuneddown,darker,compensatingforthebrightness.Oneofthelightsrakedus,seemedtolinger...andpassedon.Isensednoshiftofawareness.Wewereunseen,despitestandingintheirverymidst.Telemachondidnotleadthemin.Ifelthimatthechamber’sedge.Ifelthisfocusasaspearseekingmy
throat,justasIfelthisirritationatlosingus.Lheortrembledagain,thetwitchesbetrayinghisneedtoleapforwardandkillourenemies.Icouldfeel
thepaininthebackofhisbrain,thetick-tockofhiscranialimplantspunishinghimforholdinghisground.Iheldmycomposurewithouteventhesuggestionofmotion.Icouldhearmyownbreathing,thesoft,regularsoundofanocean’stideoverthevox.TheEmperor’sChildrenwalkedcloser,movingthroughthechamberwiththeirweaponshigh.Several
fired,hittingnothing.Wewereonewiththesmoke.Barelythereatall.Oneofthempassedbyus,closeenoughtotouch,closeenoughformetomeettheemptyeyesofthe
stretched,flayedfaceonhisshoulder-guard.Thegrindingpurrofhispowerarmourwasamechanicalsnarlinthedark,andIheardhishelmclickingasitcycledthroughvisionfilters.Thenacrunchashebracedhisbolterstockagainsthisshoulder.‘Here,’hecalledtohisbrethren.‘Here!’Lheorlunged.Istilledhimwithahandonhispauldronandaneffortofwillthatlockedhismuscles.He
trembled,murmuringacrossthevoxasourenemiessurroundedus...andpassedus.Ashadowmoved,somethinghugeandblackinthegreysmoke.Itsbladerammedcleanthroughthe
legionary’storso,liftingthethrashing,squirmingwarrioraloft.Istoodinsilenceasbloodandcursesalikesheetedfromhisvox-grille.Hefiredevenashewasbeingkilled,hisbolterspittingthreeshellsdownathismurderer.Ifthecreaturerealiseditwasbeingshot,itmadenosignofit.IwasawareofAshur-Kai’sdemandsthatIreturn,hiswarningsthattheTlalocwasunderfire,thatI
wasriskingeverything.AndIwasawarethatIdidn’tcare.Whenvengeanceisallthatremainstoyou,youtakeitnomatterthecost.Thesoundofceramitebreakingisawrenchingmetallicwailfollowedbyashatteringcrack.Thesound
ofalivingmanbeingpulledapartisajuicysnap,likethecrunchofwetlumber.Onceyou’veheardthesesounds,youneverforgetthem.Thewarriorfellinbleedingpieces,andtheblack-in-the-greyshadowtookitsfirststep.Aniron-shod
hoofcrushedthedyingwarrior’shead,smashingthehelmettopurpleshards,andgrindingthemessalongthedeck.Aheapofmoist,shakingmeatlandedonthedeckbymyboots.Ididn’tlistentothehalf-thoughtsofits
pointless,pain-soakedbrain.Myeyeswereontheshadowinthesmoke,asitturnedtowardsme.‘Khayon...’theRaggedKnightgrowledthroughsaliva-strungfangs.Itsvoiceechoedaloudaswellas
inmymind.‘Iseeyou,Soulweaver.’AndIseeyou,daemon.Dimly,IcouldmakeouttheEmperor’sChildrenthroughthesmokeofthedaemon’ssummoning,falling
backtothedoorwayandtakingupposition.Inmoments,theywouldfilltheroomwithbolterfire,andIcouldnotwardusagainstitforever.Destroymyenemies,IsenttotheRaggedKnight.Itsgreat,hornedheadswunginaslowscanofthechamber,anditslaughterheatedtheairwebreathed.
Thecreature’samusementwasaclingingpressureagainstmymind,sinkingintothecracksbetweenmythoughts.Ihadenduredpsychicattacksthatfeltlessrevolting.‘Unbindmefirst,’itgrunted.Obeyme,IsentbackwithallthecalmIcouldmuster.OrIwillunmakeyou.Idon’tknowifitbelievedmecapableofsuchafeatoriftheEmperor’sChildrenforcedthedaemon’s
handwhentheyopenedfire,buttheshadowtoweringoverusturnedinawhipcrackofforce,leavingnothingbutcurlingsmokeinitsplace.Icouldn’tseetheslaughterbeyondthedanceofinhumanshadowsinthecharcoalmist.Thesmoke
fillingtheroomsmeltofburningwoodandsearedflesh,anditremainedthickenoughtooccludesight,risinginsympathywiththeRaggedKnight’srage.Fragmentsofthefightreachedme:Iheardthevoxingoforders,theroarofbolterskickinginclenchedfists,thewaspishbuzzofpowerblades.Iheardthesweepingairdisplacementofamassiveswordswinging,theshatter-crackofsplittingceramiteandthecriesofdyingmentooproudtoscream.Itlastednomorethanadozenheartbeats.Thesoundsthatfollowedwerewaterysnarlsandsticky
growls,followedinturnbygreatgulpingswallowsasthesmokethinned.TheRaggedKnightwascrouchedamongthedead–eighteenwarriorsinall–withitshorn-crested
headtiltedbacktofacetheceiling.Thedaemonswallowedwithgaggingsounds,lettingchunksofarmouredfleshrundownitsgulletwithoutchewing.Gnarledblackandredhands,allknuckleandbone,reachedforitsnextportionevenbeforethepreviousdelicacyhadgonedown.Severalceramite-cladcarcassesleakedachemicalcocktailofsyntheticfluidfromthecablingoftheir
joints.Thedaemonwasusingfourofthemasathrone.IwatchedtheRaggedKnighteatawarrior’shead,shoulder,onearmandspinalcolumn,whole.It
gaggedasitswallowed,butitneverresortedtobreakingthemealapartwithitsteeth.Lheortensed,clutchinghisaxetighter.Hehadseendaemonsbefore,thousandsofthem,butfewthis
powerful,andthisclose,withoutstandingagainstthemonabattlefield.‘Don’t,’Isaidsoftly.TheRaggedKnightlookeddownatusinavicioustwistofattention.Itsbladewasplantednearbyasa
victorybanner,rammedthroughonewarrior’sbelly,pinningthestill-livingwarriortothedeck.‘Areyoualonebutforthisonebrother,Khayon?’thedaemonaskedinitsmucousgrowl.‘Whereis
thewhite-skinnedprophet?Whereistheshe-alienwhoseheartbeatsatyourwhim?Whereisthelittlechangeling?’‘Theyarenear.’‘Youlie.Youaretheonlytwosoulfiresofworthhere.’Itssmilewasapeeling-backofitslipless
mawfromcrackedyellowfangs,asitgesturedaclawtowardsme.‘Themanthatwouldbemymaster,stillshackledinmemory,ironandhate.’Thetalondrifted,aimingatLheor.‘Andamanwithapainengineinhisskull,collaredbytheMessiahofBlood.’Amusementrippledfromthethinginwavesofhotpressure.‘Suchmightywarriors.’Iletitsmockerygountouched,castingmysensesacrossthemistedbridge.Seeking...No.Damnit,no.IfeltTelemachon’sessenceelsewhere,fleeingthroughtheship.Laughingasheran.
Accursedcoward.Heandahandfulofhisbrethrenhadmanagedtoescape.TheRaggedKnightcloseditsclawsaroundaseveredleg,tornfromanearbycorpse.Thecreatureheld
themorselaboveitsopenjaws,thendroppeditintoitswaitingmaw.Itsburningeyesstillwatchedusasitwentthroughanotherfewmomentsofwetgag-swallowing,openingthemusclesofitsthroattogetthefleshdownintoitscraw.Theshiprumbledbeneathourboots.WeretheEmperor’sChildrenscuttlingthewreckorsalvagingit?
Didtheyevenhaveaunifiedplan?Sekhandur!cameAshur-Kai’svoice.Theyareboardingus!Hold,brother.HavetheAnamnesisawakentheSyntagma.Holdalittlelonger.Theconduitisgone...Thenwewilltearopenanother.‘Ihavepaidyouinthebloodoftraitors,’Isaidtothedaemon,watchingiteat.‘Butsofewtraitors.Suchlittleblood.’‘Isitspeaking?’Lheorasked.Hecouldseeitsjawsmoving,butthesmearsofgutturalsyllablesitmade
didn’tresemblehumanspeech.TheWorldEater’sconfusionforcedanothersmileacrossthecreature’smaw.‘Youcannotunderstandmywords,adoptedsonoftheWarGod?’‘Thisisnotthetimeforthisdiscussion,’Irepliedtobothofthem,stillfacingthedaemon.‘Ithasbeenanagesinceyoucalleduponme,Soulweaver.Whyisthat?’Iwouldn’trisetoitsbait.‘Thereisawarrioraboardthisship,fleeingusaswespeak.Iwillgiveyou
hisimageandhisname.Hunthimdown.Destroyhim.’‘Ithink...Ishallnotdoasyoudemandthistime,Khayon.Ishalleatyourmeatanddrinkyour
soul,andweshallseewhathappensthen.’‘Youarepactedtome.’‘Ifthepactisbindingandifyouarestrongenoughtoenforceit,thenyouhavenothingtofear.’Iraisedmypistol.Lheorheftedhisheavybolter.Icouldfeelhisachingneed;heburnedtofacethis
thinginbattle,totesthimselfagainstitandraiseitsskullhighoncehe’dseenitslain.TheRaggedKnightlaughedatourweapons.Ifitwantedusdead,itwouldbeonusbeforewehada
chancetofire.Ifeltmyeyesheating,whispersofwarpfireflickeringthere,evaporatingtheaqueoushumours.‘Obeyme,’Isaid,feelingangerriseinabittertide.Thisthing,nomatteritspower,waslawfully
pactedandbound.Iwouldnotbedefiedbyitschildishpride.‘Or...?’Ittookanotherstepcloser.‘WhatifIdefyyou?Whatthen?’Back!cameanewvoice,trulyferal,fromeverywhereandnowhere.Gyreprowledwithvicious,animal
slowness,stalkingfrommyshadowtostandbeforethecreature.Herclawsscrapedthedeck,leavingtalonscarsinthedurasteel.Justlikeatruewolf,shehuntedinalowcrouch,hacklesraised,earsflatbacktohercanineskull.‘TheLittleChangelingshowsitselfatlast,’theRaggedKnightgrinnedwetlydownatthewolf.That
shouldgivesomescaleofthedaemon’ssize.Itlookeddownatawolfalmostthesizeofahorse.Back!Gyrebaredherteeth,growlinginchallenge.Backnow,orbleed.TheRaggedKnighthesitated.Perhapsbecauseofthepactthatboundit,perhapsbecauseitsensedthe
threatofbeingimmolatedinwarpfireifittookastepcloser.ButIdon’tbelieveitwaseitherofthosethings.Tothisday,I’mcertainitwasmywolfthatkeptthecreatureatbay.TheRaggedKnighthuncheditsshoulders,backingdownandturningtodineonthefreshlydead.Mywolf,Isenttoher.Thankyou.Mymaster,washeronlyreply.Thedaemon’sneckrippledwithmuscletension,anditcasuallyvomitedupasteaming,acid-burned
helmet.Thehelmclatteredontothedeck,hissingandfaintlybubblinginthereturningbreezeofairpressure.OneoftheEmperor’sChildrenstilllived,impaledbythedaemon’sblade.Idonotknowifthishelpless
warriorwasthekindofmangiventocurses,screamsorthreats,forhehadtimetodononeofthemwhenhislifeended.EvenLheortookastepbackfromthefeedingdaemonasittorethelegionaryintodigestiblechunks,beginningwiththehead.Wewatcheditgagandgulpthemdown.‘DestroythewarriorknownasTelemachonLyral,’ItoldtheRaggedKnightasecondtime.‘Master,’thethingconcededatlast.Thedaemondroppedtoitshandsandkneesoncemore,vomiting
upasecondsteaming,bile-washedhelmetandskullontothedeck.‘Foryou,kin-brother.’TheRaggedKnightinhaledandexhaledwiththesoundoffamiliesscreaming,andinclineditshorn-crownedheadtoLheor.ItranslatedthegrowlsandstickysnarlsforLheor.‘Itisofferingyoutheskull.’
Lheorlookedatthefleshlessskullinthehalf-meltedhelmet,thenbackatthetowering,armoureddaemon.Hisfacewasruinedbytwitchesandmuscletics.Painwebbedoutfromhisalteredbrain,buthemanagedtoforcethewordsthroughhismetalteeth.‘Tellyourpet,itcankeepthatone.’TheRaggedKnightturned,clutchingitsblade,anditsrunningtreadshookthedeckbeneathus.Witha
singlecleaveofitssword,thehalf-sundereddoorfellapartinshards.Thenitwasgone,huntingtheimageofTelemachonI’detchedacrossitsprimitivebrain.Asenseofemptinesslingeredinitswake,thathollow-belliedweaknessthatcomesfromtoolong
withoutnourishment.Ahungersodeepitmakesyourbonesache.‘Iwillreopentheconduit,’Isaid,‘onceIhaveseenTelemachondie.’‘IhavetogetbacktotheWhiteHound.’‘Thatisnotanoption,Lheor.’Helookedatme.Icouldseethewarinhiseyes:tostayandfightatmyside,orfleebacktomyship
wherehe’dbenexttohelpless.‘Fine.I’mwithyou.’
Wegavechase.Lheorwaskeenerthanevertofacethethinginbattle.Idonotknowifhewasbornwithoutasenseof
hisownmortality,orifitwashammeredoutofhisbrainwhenthecranialimplantswerebeatenin.Heknewthedaemonservedme,buthestillburnedtomatchhimselfagainstit,evenafterseeingwhatithaddonetoalmosttwentyEmperor’sChildren.Wepursuedthedaemonthroughtheupperdecks,withnohopeofcatchinguptosomethingsoswift.
Gyreledtheway,leapingoverthestrewncorpsesofEmperor’sChildrenlyingindismembereddisarray.Thewolfwasaghost,nevertouchingasinglebody,dissolvingintothedarknesswhenherwaywasblockedandleapingfromtheshadowsupahead.Trackingthedaemonwasnotroubleatall.Atrailofblooddecoratedthewallsanddeck,driedspatter-
poolsofhardeningbrassmarkingwherethethingfledaheadofus.TheEmperor’sChildrenwereinjuringit,andwhateverbledcouldbekilled.Butthetaskwasfarfromeasy.Moltenlinesofcarvedmetalgracedtherightwallofseveralcorridors,madebythedaemon’sgreat
brassbladerippingthroughthedurasteelasitran.‘TheWhiteHoundistakingfire,’Lheorvoxedasweran.Histonespokethewordshisvoicedidnot.
Hisshipwasdyinginthevoid,andtherewasnothinghecoulddoaboutit.‘WhatoftheTlaloc?’‘Myshiplives.’‘Isthevox-linkstillopen?’‘No.’ThesimpletruthwasthatIwouldknowandfeelthemomentNefertaridied.Butsomesecrets
weremineandminealone.‘Iwouldfeelapsychicseverance,’Isaid.Lheorgruntedinirritation.‘Justsay“magic”andbedonewithit.Ceasetryingtosoundmysterious.’Magic.Atrulystupidword.Wepassedfromthecommandsectorintotheprimarycommunalhabitationdecks.Thesenarrow,
labyrinthinecorridorsandchamberslockedtogetherwithallthecharmofahivespire’sminisculelivingapartments.Soonenough,Icouldhearthedullcrashesofthathorrendousbladeagainstceramitearmour.Thesound
echoedthroughthehallwayswiththecallofacrackedcathedralbell.Again.Again.Again.Gyrevanishedintoachamberaheadofus,boltingthroughtheopenbulkhead.Beyondtheopenarchway
layatriclinium,oneoftheroomswherethehumancrewofHisChosenSononcegatheredfortheirmeals
ofprotein-richslop.Lheorwasstillatmyside,hisemotionsrisinghigh.Aripplingtideofblackfuryrolledfromhismind,
seepingintomythoughts.Hisangerwasintoxicating.Theraw,electricalpleasureofit.Wechargedintothechambertogether,weaponsinourhands.Isawtheenemydead,cladinblackand
rose,lyinginpiecesacrossthedeck;onthediningtables;slumpedagainstthecurvedwalls.IsawtheRaggedKnight,toweringaboveall,cleavingwithitsbrassblade.AndIsawTelemachon,thelastwarriorstanding.‘ThroneofTerra,’Isaidatthesightofhim.AcurseI’dleftbehinddecadesbefore.IhavealreadysaidthatTelemachon’svoicewasbeautiful–mywordscannotdoitjustice,thelow,
strong,honey-throatedresonanceofit–butitisnothingcomparedtohowhefoughtthatday.Thatwastruebeauty.Poetswilloftenspeakofa‘warrior’sgrace’,andthe‘dance’ofaskilledfighter’sfootwork.Inallmy
yearsofwarfare,IhadneverseentherealityofituntilIsawhimduellingtheRaggedKnight.RememberthatthisisamanIdespise.Wehavetriedtoendeachother’slifeahundredtimesandmore
acrossthespanofmillennia.Itgrievesmetopraisehimatall.Hematchedthedaemon’sheightbystandinguponthetriclinium’slongtables,deflectingtheRagged
Knight’sblowswithaswordineachhand.Hewasbeyondablur,intosomethingliquidandunreal.Bothofhisbladesmovedinabsoluteharmonywithoneanother–heparried,disengaged,blockedandripostedwithhisswordsinmathematicallyperfectunity.Hishelm’sfaceplateiswhatelevatedthemomentpastthemiraculousandintotheinsane.The
handsomesilvervisage,ayoungman’sflawlessfeatures,lookedutterlyatpeace.Serene.Perhapsevenbored.Itisn’teasytofightwithpairedswords,andevenmoredifficulttofightwell.Manyfightersdeceive
themselvesthatitoffersanytruebenefitatalloverabladeandpistol,aswordandshield,orastronger,longersingleblade.Duellingwithtwinnedweaponsisacommonrecourseforthosewhorelishposturingoverskill,andenjoytheelementofintimidation.FewsoldiersevermasteritevenamongtheLegions,andthesightofawarriorwithtwobladesisalmostalwaysthefirstsignofanoverconfidentfool.ButTelemachonmadeposturingintoanartthatblendedperfectlywithhisimmenseskill.Heliftedhis
bladesagainsttheoverwhelmingblows,forcedtogivegroundwhenanyoneelsewouldalreadybedead.TheRaggedKnighthadtheadvantagesofstrength,ofreach,ofheight,andtheswordsman’sonlycounterwastoputeverythingofhimselfintoeverydeflection.Forseveralbreath-stealingsecondsIwatchedhimretreatwithsavage,furiousgrace,thebladessparkingastheyparriedthedaemon’sswings.Hewasn’tjustblocking,whichwouldhavesurelybrokenhisblades.Hecaughteachincomingblowatexactlytherightangle,allowinghimtocrashthemasideratherthantaketheweightoftheirmomentum.‘Die,’theRaggedKnightwassnarling,drooling,athim.Frustrationburnedoffitsfleshwiththesmoke,
tohavealreadykilledormaimedeveryotherwarriorintheroombutforthisonewhoremaineddefiant.‘Die...Die...’Inthesamemoment,myhelm’sauto-sensescrackledastheytunedintoanincomingsignal.‘Iunderestimatedyou,Khayon,’Telemachonbreathedoverthevox,stillmanagingtosoundamused
throughhisexhaustion.Unbelievably,againstreasonandrhyme,Telemachonwasholdinghisownagainstoneofthemost
powerfuldaemonsatmycommand.Eventhoughitwaswounded,theswordsman’sendurancestunnedme.Thenhestruck.Heactuallybeatthedaemon’sbladeasidelongenoughtostrike.Telemachon’sgolden
swordscarveddown.AneruptionofmoltenviscerablastedbackagainsthimandIthink,thoughIcannotbecertain,thatIheardhimcryoutinpain.Iwouldnothavethoughtlessofhimfordoingso,thoughletme
betruetothetale:Icouldhardlythinklessofhimanyway.Thedaemonstaggered,itsfleshrippingopen.Humaneyesstaredoutinhorrorfromthespreading
lacerations;humanfingersandteethandtonguesshowedinthebleedingslits,clawingtoescape.Telemachonwasdown.He’drolledfromthetableontothedeck.Isawhimclawingathisdissolving
armour,pullingpiecesfreeinhissingchunks,beforethedaemonblockedmyview.‘Khayon,’itbreathedmyname,ignoringthedefencelessswordsmanandturningtowardsme.
‘Enough.’LheorrecognisedthedangerbeforeIdid.Perhapsinthatmomentherecognisedashredofkinshipwith
thecreature,somesharedbond-threadwiththeRaggedKnightasanotherbeinginexorablytiedtotheWarGod.Orperhapsarroganceledmetobelievethatmycontrolcouldnotbethreatenedandbrokensoeasily.
Whicheveristrue,theRaggedKnightturnedfromTelemachon,forsakingthekillingblowinfavourofseekingmylifeasitsnextfeast.‘Iwillbefree,’itsnarled.‘Bymyblade,thispactwillend.’‘Hold...’Iwarnedit.‘Youwillhold,daemon.’Butmywordshadnoeffect.Theywerenaughtbutwastedbreath.Ishouldhaveseenthiscoming.Ihad
seenitcoming.Thecreature’sunreliableandrebelliousnaturewastheprincipalreasonIwassoreluctanttoletitloose.Lheor’sheavybolteropenedupwithoutmyorder,theweaponkickinginhisfistsashehammereda
streamofexplosiveboltsintothedaemon’sankles.Ichorflewinthickstrings,eatingintothedeckwhereveritlanded.Hefiredtocripplethebeast,standinginthefamiliarleanofthosewhohavespentdecadesasLegioncannon-slingers.GyrelaunchedhighasLheorshotlow.WithaleapthatwouldhaveputaRaptortoshamemywolf
launchedherselfontotheRaggedKnight’sback,snappingherjawsclosedonthesideofthecreature’sneck.Bronzechainmaillinkssprayedawayunderherclaws.BrassbloodgoutedinahissingtorrentfromGyre’sfangsatthedaemon’sneck,runninginamoltenspilldownitsarm.ThewarpfireI’dbeengatheringatmyfingertipsvanished.Icouldn’tincineratethecreaturewithmy
wolfintheway.TheRaggedKnightroaredasshetorepiecesfromitsflesh,andheranswerwasarage-maddenedstainofredthatthreatenedtoinfectmysenses.Iletitcome.Iwelcomedit.MypistolgaveitskicklessdroneasIpulledthesegmentedtriggers,threecuttingbeamsofscarletlaser
gougingintotheRaggedKnight’sabdomen,ignitingtheflesharoundthewounds.IhadtokeepbreakingofftoavoidhittingGyre.Itsanklesandcalveswereblastedapartintostrandsofviscera,butitremainedstanding.Scorched
fleshhungfromitsmusculatureinrags,butitkeptcoming.AgreathandclosedaroundGyre’sthroat,draggingthewolffreeinawrenchingtear,leavingamouthfulofsteamingredfleshinherfangs.Beforeeitherofmyheartscouldbeat,thedaemonhurledmywolfagainsttheclosestwall.Iremember,withaclaritysopurethatIcanstillsmellthesmoke,shoutingNo!intothedaemon’smind,
tothechamberitself,totheentireworldaroundus.Gyrecrashedagainsttheancientiron,sinkingtothedeckinpainedshivers,whiningasatruewolfwould.Shetriedtomeltintotheshadowsbuttheycoiledaroundherinsluggishsnakes,answeringslowerthanI’deverseenbefore.Icalledthefireoncemore,itswhiteheatstreamingfromonehandasmyarcheotechpistolspatitsthree
cuttingbeams.Nothing.Stillnothing.Thedaemonburnedandroaredandlaughed,andjustwouldn’tdie.Itregenerated
andre-grewwhateverweblasted,cut,toreandburnedfromitsbody.Inmystrain,Iinstinctivelyfellbackintotheeaseofsilentspeech.Fireatitshands,IsenttoLheor.
Halfoftheboltsburstapartinfragmentsastheyimpactedagainstthespinning,twistingblade.Thosethatpunchedhomeagainstthedaemon’sclawsdidlittlemorethansendmoltenbloodsprayingincloudburstsofcorrosiveslime.Impactsthatwoulddisintegratehumanfleshscarcelypenetratedthedaemon’sskin.Itswoundsleftitslow,butnothingwaskillingit.I’dnevertriedtodestroytheRaggedKnightbefore.Desperationemboldenedme:Ireachedforit,my
handsoutstretchedasthougheachfingertipwasloopedbyamarionette’sstrings.Ifeltmysensesbiteandlock.ThenIpulled.TheRaggedKnight’sheadjerkedforwards,onlyforhalfamoment.Ipulledagain.Itsleftwristgaveaquickjerk.Itsrightshouldertwitchedwithlittlemorethanaspasm.Theotherssensedmegatheringmyfocusandrenewedtheirassault.Gyrelaunchedfromthefloor,
emergingfromthedancingshadowstosinkherfangsintothemeatoftheRaggedKnight’sthigh.Acidicgorestreamedfromthething.Thechamberwasthickwithsoul-smokeandthescreamsofmenandwomenwhohaddiedaneternityago.Atelekineticholdwasn’tenough,Ihadtobeinsidewhateverpassedforitsmind.Mysensesplunged
intothelakeofchokinghatredthatmadeupthedaemon’sconsciousness,andIsawthatprimitiveFranckishcitytensofthousandsofyearsbefore,dyinginwar’sinferno.Iheardthescreamsofthatdistantday,allthepainthatnowservedthiscreatureasblood,bones,organs,flesh.Ifelttheblazingcity’sfirelickingmyskin,justastheflameshadkilledsomanyhundredsinAlbajensiawithitscracklingcaress.Ifeltallofthis,threadingmyselfthroughtheRaggedKnight’score.Isawthefacesofthedeadandthe
dying.Iwatchedtheirprotectorsmassacringthem.Ibreathedinthesmelloftheblood,thesmokeandthecookingmeatofhumanflesh.Ibraced.Icurledmyfingersclosed,andoncemore,Ipulled.Thedaemon’sfleshstartedtosplitand
crackfurther,showingtheblood-smearedhumanfacesbeneathitsskin.Theyscreamedthroughthetearingwounds,addingtothetorturedchorus.AgainandagainItoreatthething’sthoughts,rippingthemfromitsmind,fightingthepainofmyownboilingblood.TheRaggedKnightcrashedtothedeckinathrashingblurofgoldengore,ichorfloodingfromthe
cartographyofitsinjuries.Itdefiedmeyetagainbyscramblingonallfours,movingintoananimalisticcrawlandshriekingasitclaweditswaytowardsme.Nothingmortalcouldmovelikethat.Evenitsprehensiletongueslappedontothefloor,joiningitstalonedhandsindraggingitselfnearer.Itsphysicalformwasdecaying,breakingapartthroughinjuryandencroachingbanishment,butitwasslippingbackintoathingofshapelessspitebeforeitalloweditselftodie.Gyrelandedonitsbackagain,tearinghanksofmusclefromitsshoulders.Lheordroppedhisbolter,
drewhischainaxeandsparkingitintolifehurleditatthedaemon.Itsserratedteethtoreintothesideofthedaemon’sskull,chewingindeepwithamessyhowlofcarrion-cloggedmechanics.TheRaggedKnightcrawledcloser,hunchedandscreamingwhereonceithadstalkedandroared.It
didn’tstrike,itwastoofarawayforthat,insteaditlifteditsswordasaspear,intendingtohurlitatmebeforeIcouldcompletelyunravelitscorporealform.Myhandswerecurledintoclaws.Mymouthwasawallofgrindingteeth.Mythoughtswerelosttothe
chorusofshoutsandshrieksandscreamsthathadfirstgivenlifetothisthingcrawlingbeforeme.WitheverythingIhadleft,mindandbodyalike,Ipulled.Itdidn’texpireasamortal,withasighandastillingofitslimbs.Itcameapartwiththesoundof
rippingleatherandonelasthowloflament.Theswordtumbledfromitsdissolvingfingers,crumblingintoashandscatteringinawindnoneofuscouldfeel.Metallicbloodgushed,hardeningintoabrasslakebeforeitcouldburnthroughintothedeck.TheRaggedKnight’sbestialfaceformedwithinthehardeningmetal,itsfeatureswhisperingupfromthefloor.
‘Khay...on...’Andthen,atlast,nothing.IwasdownononekneewithoutrealisingwhenI’dfallenthere.Breathsawedinandoutofme;itfelt
likeIhadtofightforeverygulpofairorrisknevertastingitagain.Gyrestalkedtomysideandcollapsednexttome,givingawolfishwhine.Everyinchofherdarkcoatwascrustywithdriedbrassblood,butthecorrosiveichorhadnoothereffectonherphysicalform.Iscratchedbehindherears.‘Thatwaseducational,’Lheorsaid.Hewascatchinghisbreathwhilereloadinghisheavybolterwith
almosthilariouscalm.Iwasdrawingbreathtoreplywhenthebitinghissofdissolvingceramitebrokethroughtomysenses
again.Telemachon.Hewasdownonhisknees,handsshiveringwithnervedamage,onefiststillclutchinga
goldenblade.Stinkingsteamrosefromhismelted,pockmarkedarmourandhisdissolvedflesh.‘Forgotabouthim,’Lheor’sthroatylaughwasbreathlessoverthevox.‘Heisn’tsoprettynow.’‘Stabilisehim,’Isaid.‘Ifyoucan.’‘What?No.’‘DoasIsay,Lheorvine.’Isawasuddenopportunityintakinghimalive.SomethingIwishedtotry.TheWorldEaterdidn’targue.Hewantedtobutheheldhistongue;thebalanceofpowerhadshifted
betweenusnowthatIwashisonlywayoffthisship.Whenwedrewnear,Telemachonlookedupatuswithwhatlittlewasleftofhisface.Althoughitwas
impossible,hiseyeswereclearandundamaged,andstartlinglyblue.Helookedunerringlyatme,rightintomygaze,andgaveacandle-waxgrin.‘Howbadisit?’
Astheshipshookaroundus,Icutaholeinrealityoncemore.‘Go,’IsaidtoLheor.‘Iwillholdtheconduitopen.’Icouldsensehisunease.Hewasn’tgiftedathiding
it.‘Itisnodifferentfromteleportation.’Hedidn’tthankme–inourtimeasbrothers,receivingthanksfromLheorwasaneventrareenoughto
treasure–butIsensedhissecretgratitudebeneaththemessofseethingragethatmadeuptheWorldEater’simplant-poisonedthoughtprocess.Heturned,draggingTelemachon’sunconsciousform,andwalkedthrough.LheorvineFirefististhrough,cameAshur-Kai’svoice.Withaprisoner.Myturn.IclutchedSaernwithbothhands,andwalkedwithmywolfintotheclawednothingnessthat
waitsbehindreality.
DuringtheGreatCrusade,theThousandSonsattackedaworldcalledVarayah,anamethatseemedtobeacorruptionorvariantofanancientInduasiangod-spirit.Thiswasthenamegiventoitbyitsoriginalcolonistsandcarrieddownthegenerationsbyitspopulation.WecalleditFiveHundredandForty-EightTen,beingthetenthworldbroughttoImperialcompliancebythe548thExpeditionaryFleet.ItwasaworldmuchlikethetalesofOldEarth,theTerraThatWas,inthatitssurfacewasdrownedin
oceansandteemingwithunderwaterlife.Varayah’scitiesweredefendedbylaserbatteriesofamostbrutalandseverefunction,annihilatingmostoftheImperialArmytrooplandersandLegionesAstartesgunshipsthatsoughttomakeplanetfall.Weuseddroppodstobreachthenetworkofskyfire,butsuchwastheintensityoftheaerialdefencesthatevendroppodscouldn’tbecommittedtotheatmospherewithanyrealcertaintytheywouldsurvivelongenoughtostrikeland.
Andyet,wehadtotaketheworldwithoutannihilatingit.Orbitalbombardmentwasusedagainsttheanti-airdefencearrayinextrememoderation–nottolimitcivilianlosses,whichwereconsideredasirrelevantthenasinanyImperialconquest–buttopreservethecities’industrialvalue.Ourdroppodwasinthefirstwave.Mekhariwaswithme,aswasDjedhor,bothalive,bothbreathing,
bothasloyalasanybrotherorcommandercouldask.Theywerestrappedintotherestraintthroneseithersideofme.Ourtargetwasthecapitalcity’sharbourdistrict,wherethoseofusinthefirstwavewouldcrippletheanti-airdefencestoallowreinforcementsfromthefleet.Itsoundsclinicaltosimplysaywewereshotdownduringourdescent,butthatisexactlywhat
happened.Thedroppodexplodedaroundus,comingtopiecesintheair,lettingintheroaringwindasweplummeted.Iwasonfire,myarmourcoatedinignitedfuel,evenasIfell.Anditwasalong,longfall.Weplungedintotheharbourbay.Icrashedintothewaterwithenoughforcetobreakmyleginthree
places,shattermyelbow,breakthesideofmyskull,anddislocatemylefthipandleftshoulderfromtheirsockets.Ishouldhavedied.Fiveoftheothersdid.Powerarmourisimmenselyheavyandentirelylackinginbuoyancy,includingthosesuitsbuiltwith
internalgraviticsuspensors.Isankwithoutanychanceoftreadingwater,evenhadInotsustainedsuchinjury.Myhelmethadcomefree,itssealsbrokenwhenIstruckthesurface.Thatleftmebreathingwaterinsteadofair.Addedtothis,thepromethiumstucktomyarmourplatingwithinextinguishabletenacity,stillburningasIsankbeneaththewater’ssurface.Iwasgeneticallyengineeredwiththreelungs,andalimitedcapacitytobreatheinpoisonedgas,alien
atmospheresandevenwater.Therewasnofear–atleastnotashumanswouldunderstandit;therewasofanedgeofshock,ofalmostlaughingreliefatthefactI’dsurvivedatall.Butwithitcametheshameoffailure,thethreatofamissionunfinished,andconcernthatmyinjurieswereworsethanIcouldsense.Crippled,burninganddrowning,atfirstIwastoostunnedtosummontheArt.Steppingintotheconduitfeltlikethat.Thesluggishnessoflimbsunderwater.Thepainofyourbones
andorgansundersupremepressure.Ofeverysounddulledintomeaninglessness,yetsomehowsoundinglikeascream.Thesenseofdrowningwhileonfire.Ofburningwhileyousuckdownicewater.Wonderingifyouwilleverseethesunagain.Theconduitwasevenlessstablewithoutmeholdingitopenontheotherside.Thescreamssounded
morelikehowls.Iwadedthroughclinging,scratchingblacknesspullingatmythroat,mywrists,myankles,and...
...walkedrightintoLheor’sfist.Itcrackedagainstmyfaceplatehardenoughtostaggermeandscramblethevisualfeedrunningacrossmyeyelenses.Ihadtopulloffmyhelmet,breathinginthestale,recycledairoftheTlaloc’sbridge,spicedbysweat.‘That’sforlyingtome,’saidtheWorldEater.‘Itwasnothingliketeleportation.’
WARBAND
Thoth’squillscratchesonandon,andIfindmyselfdwellingonthoughtsofblood.Thebloodsoontobeshedinthischronicle,andthebloodthathasrunintenthousandyearsofbattlesincethefirstofusstoodalongsidetheWarmasterinthebattleaboardthewarshipPulchritudinous.BloodnevermatteredtoAbaddon.TheoldLegions,theoldbloodlines,theoldlegacies...Thesethings
meantnothingtohimthenandtheymeannothingtohimnow.Theybearthepatinaofundeservedpride.TotheBlackLegion,theotherEightbloodlinesarenothingmorethandefeatmasqueradingasdefiance.Andnomatterwhatyouhaveheardregardinghistyrant’sways,hecaresnothingforunquestioning
servitudeamonghisinnerelite,nordoeshevalueloyaltythatcanbebought.Whatmatterstohim,whatmatterstohisarmies,arethebondsofbrotherhood.Inanempirethatexiledus,inahaventhathatedus,andintheshadowsoffatherswhofailedus,Abaddonofferedsomethingnew.Somethingpure.Toomanyofourkindseethemselvesasnothingmorethantheirfather’ssons.Theybecomeflawed
reflectionsoftheirprimarchs’ambitionsandideals,seeingvalidityinnootherwayoflife.ButIaskyouthesamequestionIaskthem–areyounotsoulsinyourownright?Areyoumerelythegenerationalreflectionsofthemenandwomenwhomadeyou?Theanswerissimple,becausethequestionisludicrous.Weareallsomuchmorethanmirrorimagesofthosewhosiredus.Abaddonlivedthattruth,evenbackinthoseearliestdays,evenbeforeweconvincedhimtoreturnand
takeupthemantleofWarmaster.Eventuallyhewouldunitethousandsofwarriorscastintheimagesoftheirfailedfathers,teachingtheselostsonstobebrothersinstead.Hemadeuslooktothefutureinsteadoffightingforapastwe’dalreadylost.ThatiswhenlifewithintheGreatEyeceasedtofeellikepurgatory.Thewarp-touchedvoidbecamea
haven,anditspowerpromisedopportunity.Ihavetoldyouthereisamalevolenceinthewarp,andthisistrue.Butitisnotthewholetruth.Whenyouhearthoseofusamongthe‘ArmiesoftheDamned’speakoftheGodsandtheirNeverborn
children,youarehearinguslietoourselves.Notforthejoyofignorance,butforthenecessityofit.Weperceivethesethingsinthiswayforthesolaceofsanity.TheGod-sworn–whomtheImperiumconsidersnothingmorethanunwashedhordesofinsanecultists
anddeludedheretics–preachtheirmalignantmasters’omnipotence.Thesemiserablemassescryof‘Chaos’asasentientevil,andthepowerwithinitswarpingtouch.Anypsyker,betheysoulboundtotheGoldenThroneorascendantamongsttheofficerranksofthe
AdeptusAstartes,knowsthesimpletruth:thatahumansoulisalightinthedark.Asoulisabeaconinthelayerthatliesbehindreality,anddaemonsaredrawntosuchsoulfiresbyeternal,malicioushunger.Thesoulofapsyker,themostvaluableprizeofall,burnsahundredtimesasbright.
Yes,alltrue.Andno,allwrong.Doyouknowwhatreallyliesbeyondtheveil?Canyouconceiveofwhatthewarpreallyis?Us.Itisus.Thetruthisthatthereisnothinginthisgalaxybutus.Itisouremotions,ourshadows,ourhates
andlustsanddisguststhatlieinwaitontheothersideofreality.That’sall.Everythought,everymemory,everydream,everynightmarethatanyofushaveeverhad.TheGodsexistbecausewegavebirthtothem.Theyareourownvilenessandfuryandcrueltygiven
form,imbuedwithdivinitybecausewecannotconceiveofanythingsopowerfulwithoutgivingitaname.ThePrimordialTruth.ThePantheonofChaosUndivided.TheRuinousPowers.The‘DarkGods’...And,forgiveme,Icanbarelyspeakthatlastnamewithoutforcingmyscribe,thepatientanddiligentservitor,torecordnothingbutbreathylaughterforseveralmoments.Thewarpisamirrorthatswirlswiththesmokeofourburningsouls.Withoutustherewouldbeno
reflection,nopatternstoperceive,noshadowofourdesires.Whenwelookintothewarp,itlooksback.Itlooksbackwithoureyes,withthelifewehavegivenit.Theeldarbelievetheydamnedthemselves.Perhaps,perhapsnot.Whethertheyacceleratedorheralded
theirdemiseisirrelevant;theyweredamnedthemomentthefirstape-likehumanpickeduparockandusedittobreakopenhisbrother’sskull.Wearealoneinthisgalaxy.Alonewiththenightmaresofallwhohavelivedandhopedandragedand
weptbeforeus.Alonewithourancestors’nightmares.Sorememberthesewords.TheGodsdonothateus.Theydonotscreamforthedestructionofallwe
holddear.Theyareus.Theyareoursinscominghometotheheartsthatgavethemlife.WearetheGods,andthehellsthatwehavemadeareourown.
WeranfromtheEmperor’sChildrenandlefttheotherstodie.NeedIdetailtheindignityofyetanotherretreat?Thetruth,asI’vepromisedtogive,isthatrunningno
longerfeltlikesomethingtobeashamedof.Werantosurvive,tofightanotherday.Wehadnogreatergoaltostrivefor,novictoryworthdyingfor.Wehadthebreathsinourbodies,andthatwasallwedesired.IhavenotyetrelayedjusthowIsurvivedthefallofProspero.Iassureyou,afterthat,Iwouldneverfeelshameatanotherretreat.Soweran.TheTlalocwasadvantageouslyplacedfromthebattle’sbeginning,stillclosetothestorm’s
edgecomparedtotheBalefulEyeandtheJawsoftheWhiteHound.WhiletheSonsofHorusandWorldEatersvesselshaddriftedevenclosertothewreckedhulktorecovertheirgunships,Ashur-KaihadpulledtheTlalocbackfromtheconfrontationatonce,knowingwecouldrelyontheconduit.OnlyoneoftheEmperor’sChildrenvesselshadreachedus,andtheTlaloc’sgunshaddissuadedthevesselfrompursuit.Wehadbeenboarded,butIsawnoevidenceofanyinvadershavingreachedthecommanddeck.Voidwarplaysoutinoneoftwoways.Bothareslow,stately,andfoughtwithpatienceasmuchas
vitriolandfury.Thefirstisaperformanceofcold,calculatingdistance,wherevesselsunleashtheirweaponsover
unimaginabledistancesinadisplayofmathematicalbeauty.ItisrareforImperialshipstodobattlebytradingthislong-rangefireandforegotheuseoftheirpowerfulbroadsides,buthardlyunheardof.ItdoesnotplaytotheLegions’strengths,andisnotfavouredbymostImperialcaptainswhowishtoinflicttheirships’fullpunishmentupontheirenemies.But,asIsaid,itdoeshappen.Thesebattlesofpredictivemathematicsandtrajectorycalculationsareanartformintheirownright,andcanonlybewonbycripplingordestroyingtheenemyvessel.Moreoften,theyendwithnorealwinner,whenonesidechoosestorun.
WhileweweremeetingFalkus’scaptiveprophetandsurvivingthesardar’sambush,Ashur-Kaihadbeenfightingthesecondkindofbattle.Theseareconflictsofgrindingmetalandsore-throatedorderscriedoverthewailofemergencysirens.Hotandhatefulrunningbattlesofslow-rollingmanoeuvres,massedvolleysofcannonfireatbrutallycloserange,andbroadsidesroaringintothevoidasshipspasseachotherinthenight.Boardingpodsknifebetweenthewarships’hulls,pinprickinginfieryimpactsofironagainstiron.Entiredecksgivenovertoweaponsbatteriesshakewiththeangerofrelease.Thesebattlescanbewonbydestroyingtheenemyship,butwhywastesuchaprize?Wearespeakingof
citiesinspacethatcostthousandsoflivesandmillionsofhourstocreate,inspecialiseddockyardscrewedbytrainedtech-adeptsandtheirarmiesofthralls,oftenusingtechnologynowlosttotheImperiumanditsenemies.Onedoesnotcastsuchconcernsaside.Itismuchmorecommontodesireafoe’svesselasaspoilofwar.MuchliketheTizcangameKuturanga,similartoTerranregicide,thevictorygoestowhicheverside
killstheenemyoverlords.Boardingpartiesstrikeforthebridge,fightingtheirwaytothecommanddeckinordertobutcherorcaptureanyonecapableofcontrollingthevesselandkeepingitinthefight.WeoftheBlackLegioncametocallthisGhav’maukris,‘spearingthethroat’.AseverwithLegionvoidbattles,thedefenceoftheTlalochadcomedowntoboardingactions,and
thatsuitedusalltoowell.Ihadsoldmyskillstomanyotherwarbandsthroughtheyears,totheMechanicumandeveryoneoftheNineLegionsatonepointoranother,andIalwaysdemandedspecifictermsofpayment.OnrareoccasionsIwouldsettleforpreciouslore.Butnevergold,neverslaves,neverammunition.ImostoftentookpaymentinthecoldironcurrencyofMartianwarmachines.TheseweboundtotheAnamnesis’sconsciousness,lettinghercontrolthemetalbodiesofahordeof
battlerobots.NoenemyboardingtheTlalocinbattlehadeverleftitalive.Wecalledthisdestructivehive-mindtheSyntagma.Isatinmythroneuponthecentraldais,leaningforwardstostareattheocculuswhiletheshipshook
aroundus.Threeofthecyborgedthrallsatthevoidshieldplatformcalledoutreportswithoutlookingawayfromtheircalculationtable.Theshieldswereholding.Weweretoofarfromthemainfight,andthebulkoftheEmperor’sChildrenfleetwascommittingitselftofinishingoffFalkus’sships.Buttheboardingactionhadslowedus,ashadAshur-Kaiholdingcoursewhilewaitingformetoenter
theconduit.Threedestroyers,eachonealoneamatchfortheTlaloc,werebearingdownonus.Theirfore-weaponsstreamedthroughthevoid,andweranaheadofthem,shieldsflaringhot,seekingtoraisetheGellerfieldbeforewelaunchedbackintothestorm.Theywouldn’tcatchusnow.Notunlesswedidsomethingfoolish.Lheorwasdemandingthatverything.Hewishedtoturnaround,andAshur-Kairefusedhim.‘It’snottoolate.Wecouldfightourwaythrough.’‘Wecould,’thealbinoreplied.‘Butwewon’t.’‘Therearealmostfiftywarriorsonmyship.’‘Howexciting.’‘Andovertenthousandslaves.’‘Whatalargenumberthatis.’‘I’mwarningyou,sorcerer...’‘Ifyoucaredforthelivesofyourmenandthralls,perhapsyoushouldhavereconsideredyourill-
advisedmockeryoftheenemycommanderwhenheofferedyoumercy.’Ah,thereitwas.Hisdisapprovalofme,hiddeninalecturegiventoanother.Forevermymentoras
wellasmybrother.‘Lheor,’IcalledacrosstotheWorldEater,frommythrone.‘Scowlingattheseerwillchangenothing.’
Thewarriorinredturnedtome,ascendingthestepstothecommandthrone.‘Fiftymen,Khayon.Fiftylegionaries.’‘Fiftydeadlegionaries.’Hedisengagedhishelmet’ssealstodragitclear,showingafacerivenwithuglystitching.Synthetic
fleshpatchesdidn’tquitematchthetrueebonyofhisskin,andbronzefangsreplacedeverytoothinhisskull.MetalteethwerecommonamongtheWorldEatersbutIhadn’tseenteethofreinforcedbronzebeforenow.CenturiesofbattlefieldwoundshadrenderedLheorvineUkrisintoanavatarofpatchworkruination.‘Wejustneedtogetcloseenoughtopickuptheescapepods.’‘Wearenotgoingback,Lheor.’‘Howlikeyou,’hesneered,‘toshowthecreaseofyourarsetotheenemyinsteadofstandingand
fighting.Runningfromafightsuitsyou,sonofMagnus.Whybreakalifetime’shabits,eh?JustlikeProspero,whenIfoundyoucoweringintheashes.’IlookedathimasIleanedbackinthethrone,sayingnothing.Inthesamesecondthatheheftedhis
heavybolter,everysingleoneofthefiftyRubricaeonthecommanddeckraisedtheirweaponstoaimatthesevenWorldEatersinourmidst.Donotfire,Itoldthem.Thiswasgettingoutofhand.‘Youthinkyourcorpse-brothersintimidateme,sorcerer?’Hisabusedfeaturesflinchedwithmuscletics
ashiscerebralimplantsbitdown.Isensedunborndaemonsintheairaroundhim,lickingtheirformlessjaws.Theyfeastedonhispainandhisrage.‘Wearenotgoingback,Lheor.Wecannot.Lookatme.Youknowme.YouknowIwouldnotabandon
yourkinsmentodieifwecouldsavethem.IwouldevenopenaconduittopullthemthroughifIcould.Looktotheocculus.Yourshipisalreadydead.Itdiedthemomenttheambushbegan.Evenifyouhadreacheditatonce,itwouldhavechangednothing.’Thetruthofthosewordswasevidentenough,aswewatchedtheendofourshort-livedfleet.Shipstake
alongtimetodie,muchasoceanicvesselsoncetookanagetofullysink.Aswewatched,theBalefulEyecametopieceswithoutFalkuseverrespondingtoourhails.TheJawsoftheWhiteHoundcrumbledandburnedwithoutuseverrespondingtotheirs.Lheor’sbrothersdiedcursingusforcowards.‘Youcouldtry,’Lheorpressedonelasttime.‘Ihavepower,Lheor,butIamnotagod.’Heturnedawayfromme,sayingnomore.‘Terminatethelink,’Isaidtooneoftheservitorhelmsmen.IwastiredoflisteningtothedoomedWorld
Eaters’rantingcries.‘Compliance,’repliedthecyborg.Amidstthemelee,onevesselwinkedoutofexistenceinasuddenflareofmigrainelight.Awarpcore
breach?Arift,torninthefabricofthestorm’scalmeye?Falkushadnosorcerersofsignificantpower.Sargon,though.Theprophet.Coulditbethathe...‘Whatshipwasthat?’Iasked.Ashur-Kaispokewithclosedeyes,relyingonhissensesratherthanthestuttering,flickeringtactical
hololith.‘TheRiseoftheThreeSuns.’Falkus’snewest,mostwoundedship.‘Diditflee?’‘Itisgone,’hecorrectedme.Whichcouldmeananythingatallintheunderworld.Swallowedbythe
stormtobecastacrossthelengthandbreadthoftheEye.Hurledforwardintoitsownfuture.Erasedfromreality.
Therestofourmakeshiftfleetproceededonitswaytooblivion.Wewatcheddaemonsofathousandshapesandshadescrawlintoexistencearoundtheburningships,broughtforthbyrageandterror,feastinguponthedoomedcrewswhosemindshadbirthedthem.Iturnedaway.‘Ifyouwish,wewillleaveyouattheclosestTwelfthLegionstronghold.’Lheor’sreplywastospitonthedeckbymyboots.Afterthat,ourescapewasalmostshamefullyeasy.Iremainedonthecommanddeck,satuponmy
throne.OccasionallyItunedintothecommunalvox-channel,surprisedtohearNefertariscreaming.ShewasstillsealedwithintheAerie.‘Youdidnotfreeher?’IaskedAshur-Kai.‘Youdidnotletherfightwhenwewereboarded?Brother,
areyoumad?’Thealbinoglaredatme,red-eyedandweary.‘Ihadmoreonmymindthanfreeingyourmurderessfor
herownamusement.’Heturnedandwalkedaway,hisangerasubtlethrobagainstmymind.Icouldfeelanundercurrentofpolite,dignifiedfury.HehadwishedtospeakwithSargonandgleananytruthstotheWordBearer’sprophecies,oneseertoanother.Thecobweboffatefascinatedhim.Heresentedmefornothandlingthemeetingashewouldhavedone.Gyrecametome,circlingmythronebeforeseatingherselfatmyside.Ashur-Kaiwasbackuponhis
balcony,guidingtheshipintunewiththeAnamnesis.Lheorandhismenhadgonewherevertheywished;anywheretoescapemypresence,itseemed.Thatleftmeandmywolf.YoushouldnothavesavedtheoneAshur-KaicallsFirefist.Heisakillerofkin,andnottobe
trusted.Iseeitinhisheart.Ilookedather,oncemoreturningasidefromtheviewoftheboilingstorm.KillingkinistheleastofanyLegionwarrior’ssins.Noneofuscanclaiminnocenceinthat.Mortalwords,shesaid,andmortalexcuses.Ispeakofblacker,deeperbetrayals.Iknow.ButIowehim,justasIoweFalkus.ThewolfknewjustwhatIowedLheor.Shehadbeen
therewhenProsperofell.Itwasherveryfirstnightasawolf.Lifeismorethanclingingtooldoaths,master.Thatseemsastrangethoughtforabounddaemontohave.Iranmygauntletedfingersthroughher
blackfur.Thewolfwithinhergrowledattheattention.Thedaemonignoredit.Apactisnotanoath,shesaid.Apactisabindingoflifeforce.Anoathissomethingmortalsbleat
andwhineatoneanotherinmomentsofweakness.Shewasbreathingnow,somethingsherarelydid.Forher,thewolf-shapewasoneofpreference,
nothingmore.Sheenjoyedthecanineform’slethalityandsymbolism,andcarednothingforthedetailsoffeigninglife.Gyre,ifHorusRebornwalkedtheworldsoftheGreatEye...Thewolfshiveredasthoughfightingoffachill.Hersilentvoicedrippedwithspite.Theuneaseyou
feelatsucharebirthissharedamongthePantheon.TheSacrificedKingdiedashewasfatedtodie.Hecannotriseagain.Histimeisgone.TheAgeoftheTwentyFalseGodsisgone.WewalkintheAgeoftheBornandNeverborn.Soitis,andsoitmustbe.Iwassilentasherwordstookrootinmymind.Shewasapparentlyinnomoodforfurther
contemplation.Igo,shesentinalowgrowl,risingandstalkingaway.Bridgecrewshiedawayfromthehulkingwolf-
daemonintheirmidst.Gyreignoredthemall.Whereareyougoing?ToNefertari.Withthosewords,sheleftmestaringafterherinnothinglessthanshock.Ashur-Kaicametomenext.Hewasstillglowering.
‘Wetookprisoners,’hesaid,notingitforitsrarity.TheSyntagmascarcelyeverleftanythingalive.‘SevenoftheEmperor’sChildren.’Ilookedathimforsometimebeforereplying.‘Itwouldhavebeenusefulhadyoupredictedatleasta
shadowofwhatjusthappened,seer.Agreatdealofdeathandhumiliationmighthavebeenavoided.’‘True.’Hisredeyesradiatedmeasuredacceptanceofallthathadtakenplace.‘Anditwouldbe
delightfulifprophecyworkedthatway.Afactyouwouldknowifyouhadanytalentorrespectforit.Nowwherearewegoing?’‘Gallium.’Slowlyhisthoughtsrevertedtotheirstately,passionlessprocessionofanalyticalconsiderations.He
calculatedhisresponsesinconversationthewayacogitatorcalculatedmathematics.Galliummadesense.Wewouldrefuel,rearmandrepair.‘AndafterGallium?’hepressed.Iknewwhathewasasking.HadIdecided,eventhen?WasIcommittedtospringingSargon’strap,riskingeverythingontheedgeof
theRadiantWorldsfortheultimatereward?Ihonestlydonotknow.Considerationisnotcommitment.Temptationisnotadecision.‘Givemetime,’Isaid.‘Iwilldecide.’Ifelthissilentacknowledgement–butnothisagreement.Hereturnedtohisobservationplatformata
patientwalk,onehandrestingonthepommelofhissheathedsword.HisregalangerwassomethingIhadnopatiencetodealwith.Irosefromthethrone,butnottofollow
him.
IfirstmetLheorvineUkrisintheashesofTizca,severalcenturiesbeforethefailedfleetmuster.TheWorldEaterscametooursavagedhomeworld,toseeforthemselveswhatthesonsofRusshaddone.Thecrystalcityhadfallen,Prosperohadburned,andallthatremainedwerethedeadandthedying.
Magnus,myfirstLegion’smaster,hadfled.He,andmostofthesurvivingwarriors,fledthroughthewarptotheirnewhavenonSortiarius.ThevastpowerunleashedinsuchmanipulationhaddraggedtheheartofTizcawiththemintheirlast-gaspexodus.Whatremainedinitswakewerethecity’souterdistricts,laidtowaste,withthemillionsofdeadnowpopulatingtheparksandliningthewideavenues.IwasnotamongthosetoreachSortiariuswithmybrethren.Iwouldeventuallyjourneytherelater,after
thewarendedatTerra.OnProsperoitself,Ihadn’tfoughtmywaytothecentralPyramidofPhoteptojoinAhriman’slaststand.
Mydestination,whilefightingthroughtheburningstreets,wasthecity’swesternedge.IhadtoreachtheBoundaryZiggurats,andIhadtodoitwithoutmybrothers,becausetheTlalocwasgonewiththerestofthefleet.TheAnamnesiswasaboard,aswerethoseofmywarriorswhowouldsurvivetheHeresyonlytodieinAhriman’sfutileRubric.Ashur-KaicommandedtheTlalocinmyabsence,leavinghimfarfromProsperowhenitfell.Iwas,ineverywaythatmattered,alone.AndIdidn’tmakeit.Mywoundssawtothat.I’dsufferedcripplingwoundsoncebefore,intheVarayan
ocean,buttheywereinjurieseasilyhealedonceIwasoutofthewater.Theideaofdyingfromthosewoundshadbeenmoreajestthanapossibility.Theyweren’tblowsfromaxesandmaulsandboltershells.WhenIcouldnolongerrun,Istaggeredandlimpedforthehorizon,wherethesteppedpyramids
ascendedintothesky.WhenIcouldnolongerstand,Icrawled,andwhenIcouldnolongercrawl...Icannotrecall.Consciousnessdesertedme,stolenbythesplitsinmyskullandthewoundswovenacrossmybody.Atsomepointinthetimelessnessthatfollowed,Irememberstaringupatthenightsky,thinkingthestars
mightbeourfleetinorbit,comeatlast.Darknesscameandwentinqueasytides–itwasdaylight,itwasnight,itwasduskanditwasdawn.Therewasnoordertothesky’schanges,atleastnonethatmyfadingsensescouldgrasp.Gyrewasgone,fledfrommeinthehuntforhelp.Iwascold;thegeneticenhancementsthatforcedmy
bodytocompensateagainstbloodlosswereoverworkedandsluggish.Andmygutsached,thoughwithnoconceptionoftime,Ihadnowaytoknowifitwasthebiteofhungerorthedrawn-outagonyofstarvation.Irememberfeelingmyheartsslowing,fallingoutofrhythm,onebeatingweakerandevenslowerthan
theother.‘Thisone’salive,’saidavoice,somedistanceaway.ThosewerethefirstwordsIeverheardLheor
say.
Ithoughtaboutthatmeetingallthoseyearslater,asIwalkedthehallsoftheTlaloc,seekingtheWorldEaterandhissixsurvivingbrothers.Theyhadclaimedoneoftheship’sarmouriesasatemporarylair.Slavesfromvariousdecksalready
labouredinservitude,draggedfromwhateverdutiesthey’dbeenperformingtonowworkmaintenanceontheWorldEatersarmourandweapons.Twoofthewarriorswereduelling,usingmetalstanchionbarsthey’dpulledfromtheship’swalls.
Anotherwassatwithhisbacktoamunitionscrate,monotonouslythuddingthebackofhisheadagainsttheironbox.Fromhispain-washedsenses,Ifeltanalmostclockworksenseofmercy:thepaininhisskullwouldrecedeeachtimehisheadstruckthecrate.Helookedatme–hisgazewasn’ttheimbecile’sunfocusedstareI’dexpected;itwasatormented,whollyawarestare.Ifeltthevirulenceinthatlook.Hehatedme.Hehatedtheship.Hehatedbeingalive.ShadowsmovedaroundtheWorldEaters.Weakspiritsofpainandmadness,drawntothetormented
warriors,drawingclosertobirth.Lheorwashalfoutofhisarmour,usingstolentoolstogetthejobdone.Liketheplate-cladcrusadersof
themostprimitivecultures,ittooknosmallamountoftime,andthehelpoftrainedslaves,togetinandoutofourbattlegear.Everyplatewasmachinedintoplaceandsyncedintopositioninsympathywiththosebeneathit.‘Giveusarmouryslaves.’ThiswasLheor’sgreetingtome,beforehegesturedtothepoorwretches
‘cleaning’hisarmourpieceswithdirtyrags.‘Theseonesareworthless.’Thatwasbecause‘these’weren’ttrainedinthetechnicalknowledgenecessary.Wehadfewarmoury
slavesontheTlalocanymore,sincesofewofusneededthem.Rubricaewerehardlycapableofremovingtheirarmour.Theirarmourwasalltheywere.Isaidnoneofthis.WhatIsaidwas,‘Imightconsiderit,ifyouaskednicely.’Hegrinned.Therewouldbenoaskingnicely,webothknewit.‘Falkusmademyskincrawlwithhisshackledseer.Didhisshipescape,doyouthink?’‘Itispossible,’Iconceded.‘Youdon’tsoundtooconfident.Ah,that’sashame.IlikedFalkus,evenifhewasaltogethertoo
suspiciousofhisfriends.Now,whatdoyouwant,eh?Ifyou’vecomelookingforanapology,sorcerer...’‘Ihavenot.ThoughitwouldbecourteousforyoutoatleastacknowledgethefactIsavedyourlife.’‘Atthecostoffiftyofmymen,’hereplied.‘Andmyship.’Hisshipwasajunkyardfrigateatbest,andItoldhimso.‘Shemayhavebeenapieceofscrapyarddung,’Lheorsaid,grittinghisteethinsomethingthatcould,
withalittlegenerosity,becalledasmile.‘Butshewasmypieceofscrapyarddung.Nowtellmewhyyou’rereallyhere.’
‘Foramortuus.’Helookedatme–despitethescar-stitchedruinationofhisfeatures,bothofhisdarkeyeswerethose
he’dbeenbornwithratherthanaugmeticreplacements.Afterraisingthescartissuewhereaneyebrowhadoncebeen,heasked,‘What...?’inatoneofhonesthesitation.‘Amortuus,’Isaidagain.‘YouaskedwhyIcametoyou.Thatiswhy.Ihavecometohearamortuus.’Allofthemwerelookingatmenow.Theduellistshadfallenstill.Theoneonthedecknolonger
poundedhisheadagainstthecratebehindhim.LheorhadcommandedtheFifteenFangsfordecades,andservedasanofficerinhisLegionduringthe
GreatCrusade.Hedidn’tlooktohismenforguidance,butIfelttheshiftofhisthoughtsasheconsideredtheirpresence.Heknewtheywerewatchinghim,watchingthismoment,forhowhewouldreact.ButIalsofeltthespiderypresenceofthemachinerystuntinghismind.Ittickedandkickedagainstreasonandpatience,leachinghisfocus,pushingpainthroughhisskullinsteadofthought.Thesilencestretchedout.Ifeltthepaininhisheaddeepenfromticsandspark-scratchestoa
blossomingthrob.Itmadehisupperlipcurl,nodifferentfromadog’s.‘Skall,’hesaid.‘Gene-seedunrecovered.AurgethMalwyn,gene-seedunrecovered.Ulaster,gene-seed
unrecovered.EreyanMorcov,gene-seedunrecovered...’Helistedthemall,nameaftername.Allforty-sixofthem.Hetrailedoffafterhespokethelast–
‘Saingr,gene-seedunrecovered’–andlookedatmewithmorbidamusementinhiseyes.‘Iwillhavetheirnamesenteredintotheship’sDirge.’TheDirgewasaThousandSonstradition;otherLegionsuseddifferentnames,suchastheWorld
Eaters’ArchiveoftheFallen,orinthecaseoftheSonsofHorus,theLamentation.Morethansimplycasualtylists,theywereremembrances–rollsofhonour,relicsfortheLegiontotreasure.Aboardourvessels,itusuallytooktheformofnamesandranksinkeduponscrolls.‘Inthisship’sarchives?’oneoftheothersasked.‘IwilltransferallrecordstoanyWorldEatersvesselsweencounter.’‘OurLegioncareslittleforrecordingthedead,Khayon.’‘Nevertheless,theofferremains.Butthosewarriorsnamednowdiedinthebattlethatbroughtus
together.Weshareresponsibility.TheyshouldbeenteredintotheTlaloc’sDirge.’TheWorldEaterslookedtooneanother,thentoLheor.Lheor,whohadjustrelayedamortuustome,as
ApothecariesintheLegionstraditionallyrelayedthemtotheircommandingofficers.Somethingpassedbetweenus:anunderstandingofakind.Nothingpsychic,nothingsocrudeor
obvious.Buthenoddedinrecognitionofit,andthumpedhisunglovedfistonmychestplateinwhatpassedforbrotherlyacknowledgement.‘Maybeyouhaveabackboneafterall,sorcerer.Nowgetoutofhereandfindussomerealarmoury
slaves.Weneedourarmourtendedto.’Welldone.Ashur-Kai’svoiceinmymind.Theywillbeusefultous.Myreasonsarenotsocoldandmercenary,seer.Lheorlookedtohisbrothersandshowedhisbronzeteethinanunpleasantsmile.‘Wewillstay.For
now.’Noneofthemargued.‘Twothings,’Lheorsaid.‘WhatdoyouplantodowithTelemachon?’Itwasalittlelateforsecrets.AsfarasIwasconcerned,themortuushadsealedouralliance.‘Iplantodosomethingunpleasanttohim.’TheWorldEaterssharedgruntingchuckles.‘Andwhat’sthatscreamingoverthevox?’Lheorasked.‘Thatismybloodward.Iwilldealwithhernow.’
BLOODWARD
TheAerie’sheavybulkheadsremainedclosed,sealinginascentalmostthickenoughtosee.Thesourmashreekofspoiledmeatoverlayingrot,astenchrevoltingenoughtomakemortaleyeswater.Behindthelockeddoorslayonlydarkness.Ididn’tseeandscentthismyself.Iliveditthroughmywolf’ssenses.Gyregreetedthestinkingnothingnesswithagrowl.Thewolf’ssnarlwasanungentleone,rumbled
throughcurved,spit-dryteeth.Thegreeting,suchasitwas,wasswallowedbytheartificialnight.TheAerie’sbounddoorshadbeennoobstacletothewolf.Passingbeyondthemwasnothingmorethan
steppingintoshadowononesideoftheironbulkheadandemergingintotheblacknessontheotherside.Whyareyoudoingthis?Iaskedher.Insofarasherkindcouldpossessanynotionofgender,Gyrewas
ostensiblyfemale.Itwasareflectionofthebodyshe’dadopted,ratherthananyconsciousdecision.Igotoher,thewolfsentback,becauseIcan.Andwiththat,shestartedherascent.Ithadn’talwaysbeencalledtheAerie.ThatwasNefertari’sdoing.Ithadchanged,assomanythings
hadchanged,withherarrival.Beforethealienhadjoinedus,thischamberhadbeenamass-transitelevatorshaft,largeenoughtocarrybattletanksandgreatmunitionsloadsbetweendecks.AfterNefertari’sarrival,theTlaloc’screwsoonlearnedtouseotherelevatorplatforms.Thisonestoodindeactivation,coldandhollow,allpowerkilledfromitssystems.GyreandIwereusedtosharingsensesasoneoftheprincipalvirtuesofourbond,yetIsenseda
disquietingpressurefromhermind,asshesoughttoconcealhermotivesfromme.ThatwaswhenIrealisedshe’dbeenherewithoutmebefore.Perhapsmorethanonce.Morethanadozentimes,shereplied.Iwasnotaware.Thereismoretomyexistencethanmybondwithyou,master.Gyrelookedup.Ahalf-kilometretunnelstretchedoutabove,allthewaytotheship’sspinal
battlements.Oldcablingandgothiccarvingsmadetheshaftoutwardlyskeletal,averticalpassageofribbedwallspockmarkedbythestaringblackeyesofathousandopenaccesstunnels.Thesameviewgreetedherwhenshelookeddown.Theshaftdescendedmuchfurtherintodarkness.She’denteredtheAerienearitsapex.Gyre’svisionwasn’tthered-stainedoverlayofSpaceMarinetargetinglenses,norwasitthedull-
colouredhazeofhumansight.Shesawsoulsasflickeringfire,andshesawcontourednothingnesseverywhereelse.Nefertari,thebeastsentintothedarkness,thoughmybloodwardwasasgoodasdeaftoallsilent
speech.
ThenumerousopenbulkheadsleadingfromthelongtunneltotherestoftheshipmeantNefertaricouldbeanywhere–sheclaimedtheentiretyoftheTlalocasherplayground–butGyreknewwheretohunt.Thewolfburstintoashortsprint,leapingofftheplatformandintothetunnel.Onemoment,shewas
fallingthroughtheblacknessofever-presentshadow.Thenext,shestalkedfromthedarknessahundredmetresabove,clawsscrapingonthecoldmetalofthehigherplatform.Launchingherselfintoshadowagainandagain,Gyrecontinuedherrise.Afterfiveminutes,shefoundthefirstbloodstain.Afteranotherthree,shefoundthefirstbody.Whydoyougotoher?Iaskedthewolf.Shewasdismissive.Youcannotguess?Shenosedbrieflyatthedeadbody.Thekillwasfarfromfresh.Anoldercorpse,oneofNefertari’s
discardedplaythings,chainedtothewallandhangingbyitsankles.Thebody’slastgaspwaswrittenplaininpainacrossitscontorted,greyfeatures.Mybloodwardhadpulleditsteethoutandcarvedalienrunesacrossitsflesh,allwhileitwasstillalive.Whileitwasstillahe,notanit.ToGyre’ssenses,thecadaverwasscarcelydifferenttothechainsthatboundit,orthewallthatheldit.
Itwassoulless,andthusofnointerest.Lookingthroughthewolf’seyesfortoolongoftenbredgreasy,heavyheadachesthatthreadedtheirwaythroughmyskull.Icouldfeelanotheronealreadybeginning.Morebodieshungabove.Nefertarihadahabitofchainingseveralvictimsinthetunneltohangatthe
sametime,theircriesechoingthroughthedarkavenuedowntheship’sbackboneandintotheTlaloc’sironbonesbeyond.Shecalledithermusic.Ofcourse,shedidn’tneedtoclimbupanddownasthehumancrewdid.Shecouldhanghervictimsin
thelongtunnelpitandtakethemtopiecesatherleisure,withoutneedingsomethingasmundaneashandholds.Someofthebodieswerehuman,otherslostinthemutablestatesbetweenpurestrainhumanityand
whateverthewarpintendedforthemtobecome.Sixofthem–andtheseweretheonesGyreclimbedpastwithafractionmorecuriositythananyothers–werewarriorsoftheLegionesAstartes.Captivesfromoldraids,giventoherassustenance.Oneofthemstaredatmywolfwitheyesofrottinggrey.Gyrestalkedintothenearbyshadowswithout
botheringtosniffthebody.Atlast,shepaddedsilentlyfromthedarknessatthetopofelevatorshaft,intothetrueAerie.Thevast
domedchamberwassealedbyexternalscute-shielding.Thedense,scaledarmourplatingblockedallsightofEyespaceoutside.TheonlylightinthechamberwasthatwhichNefertariallowed.Tonight,allwasdark.Gyreprowled,hersensesdriftingleftandrightacrossthetablesthatwerereallyracks,andoverthe
wallsofachamberthatwasreallyaprison.Shelookedup,atthegargoylesandgrotesquesclingingtothebonyarchitectureandleeringdownwithsilentroarsanddisapprovingscowls.Ahordeofdarkstoneeffigies,displeasedwiththewolf’spresence.Shecouldn’tseeNefertari.Shecouldn’tsmellher.Shecouldn’tsenseher.Everythingwasflesh-rotand
blood-stink,butGyrecouldhearwounded-animalbreathingnearby.Thatwasastart.Thewolfwalkedon,hunting,seeking.Becareful.Youknownothingofwhatyouspeak,master.Shewillneverharmme.Soulfirerippledononeoftheracksahead–aflickeringwhiteaura,stainedwithvibrantveinsoffear.
Ahuman,piteouslyweakandbeggingbreathlesslyforhelpasitlayshackledtoatable.Itreekedofbloodandsweatandshame,justasitsaurashimmeredwithveinsoflingeringagony.Itwaswearingtheremnantsofanenginariumdeckuniform.
Gyrecrossedovertotheprisoner,watchingthehumanshiverinthecoldair.Themancalledoutwordlessly,reachingwithwhatremainedofhishand,andthewolfsnuffedoverthehuman’sopenwounds.Internalbleeding.Rupturedorgans.Whoeverhehadbeen,thewoundedmanwastoofargonenowtobeofanyuse.Thebeaststalkedinaslowcircle,instinctoverridingitsownreassurancesnowthatshewalkedwithin
thefeedinggroundofanotherpredator.Nefertariwasnear.Threadsofsympatheticconnectiontrailedbetweentheprisoner’spain-wracked
auraandherownfierysoul,deeperinthechamber.Theyshiveredlikecobwebstrings,faintlyalightwithsoulfire.Gyrewalkedon,followingthepsychicspoorofsoulsjoinedbytorment.Assheweavedbetweenthe
tables,hangingchainsbrushedagainstthemusclesofherbackandshoulders.There,afeatheronthedeck.Shenosedatit–thefeatherwasneitherblacknorgrey,butadusty
charcoaldarknessbetweenboth.Soulfireburnedweaklyinthegreynessahead.Diminished,drained.Thatwaswhythewolfhadn’t
sensedmybloodwardrightaway.Nefertariwasdying.Mybloodrancoldatthesightofher.Nefertarilayonherfront,headtiltedsohertemplerestedagainst
thedeck.Shelookedasthoughshe’dbeencasttothegroundandlefttheretodie–athingoflifelesslimbs,haloedbyapoolofdarkhair.Asthewolfdrewcloser,theunearthlyreekofalienfleshfilledGyre’ssenses.Thatfrostedmetalstench
oftoo-whiteskin,layeredoverthespicyrichnessofhot,inhumanblood.Ifelttheacheofbittersalivastringingbetweenthewolf’sfangs.NearnesstoanylivingbeingstirredGyre’shunger.Thealientwitched,liftedherhead.Pointedears,darkwingsandslantedeyeswerethemostobviously
feyelementsofherinhumanity,buteverythingaboutherbledthatsenseofuneasywrongnessonealwaysseesintheimperfectionofalienlife.Evendowntothewayshemoved:Nefertariwastoofluidinhermovements,gracefulinawaythatbecamesinister,makingmyskincrawl.Mybloodward’seyesweretheblackofcloudlessnight,butGyre’sinhumanperceptionregisteredlittle
morethantheembersofsoulfirebehindNefertari’sglassystare.Oneofthealien’swingsrippledwiththesoundofaturningpage.‘You.’Nefertari’sdeadbluelipscurledinananaemicparodyofemotion.Hervoicewasthehissofa
bladebeingdrawn.Gyrecouldn’treplyaloud.Thewolf’sjawsweren’tmadeformortallanguage.Bloodtrickledfromthealien’steethassheraisedherselfontremblinglimbs.Herwingsclosedagainst
herback,shiveringastheyfolded.HerewasanintimacybetweenthemIcouldneverhavepredicted.Ofallthesoulsaboardmyship,surelythesetwoshouldmostrevileeachother.I’dneverfeltanythingbutcautiousdisregardbetweenthese,mysisters,myfavouredservants.Thewolfstillapproachedinitssilentstalk.Asitsfangedmawbrushedthealien’sshoulder,Nefertari
reachedoutwithtremblingfingers,embracingthebeast’sneck.‘Ithirst,’shewhispered.‘Noneoftheseworthlesslivesmatter.Theirsoulsareweak,andtheirpainis
meaningless.NomatterhowmanyIkill,Istillthirst.ButwecouldkillAshur-Kai.YouandI,Gyre.WecouldkillAshur-Kai.Khayonwouldforgiveus.’Thealien’sforeheadwasagainsttheshe-wolf’sfur,now.Theywerecloseenoughtosharesilent
speech,evenwithNefertari’sstuntedsenses.No.Gyre’ssilenttonewassomethingbetweenacaninesnarlandanursinegrowl.Ourmasterneeds
theWhiteSeer.‘Hewouldforgiveme.’
Yes,Gyreallowed,andIsensedmywolf’sirritationthatIrodehersensesthroughwhatshouldhavebeenaprivatemoment.Khayonwillforgiveyouanything.ThatdoesnotmakeitwisetokilltheWhiteSeer.Nefertariwassilentforatime,holdingtotheshe-wolf.Isensed...WhatexactlydidIsense?The
communionbetweenthemmadenosensetome,butitwasthere,anditwasreal.‘Where’sKhayon?’HewaswiththeonecalledFirefist.Nowhepreparestojoinus.‘Hesealedmein.’Hehadtosealyouin,afteryoursoul-hungerlasttime.Thesilencereturned.Thistimeitdidn’tjustlinger,itreigned,lastingseveralminutes.Neitherofthem
brokeit.Thathonourbelongedtome.
Theairburstapartinasprayofshriekinglight,hittingwithathunderousdisplacementofwind.Thwartedsoulscriedoutinthattempest.Ifeltthedesperationofinvisiblehandsreachingoutfromtheroaringgust,clawingatNefertari’sskinandhairwithhowling,mindlessneed.Oh,howtheywantedher.TheNeverbornchildrenoftheYoungestGodalwayswantedher.Theyceasedatonce,withthesamesonicboomthathadheraldedtheirarrival.‘Nefertari,’Isaid,makingthewordagreetingandanapology.Foramoment,IsawmyselfthroughGyre’seyes:atoweringsilhouette,crownedwithasunbursthaloof
corrosivegoldenlight.Thethreateningheadachebloomedfullyintosomethinghotandhatefulbehindmyeyes.Thealienmaiden’sonlygreetingwasacoldstare.‘Areyouwell?’Iaskedher,forwantofsomethingtosay.‘Ithirst,’shehissedatme,releasingthewolf’sneckandrisingtoherfeetonweaklimbs.‘Iknow.WearesailingtoGallium.Distancefromthecorewilleaseyourtorment.Ashur-Kaishould
havefreedyoutohuntanddrinkwhenwewereboarded.’‘Ithirst,’shesaidagain.Hadsheevenheardme?Isteppedcloser.Myhelmetcrestofbandedcobaltandburnishedbronzecastadeformedshadowonthe
darkirondeck.‘Nefertari...’‘Ithirst,’shewhisperedthewordsthattime,ratherthanhissingthem.‘Iwillgiveyouanyofthecrew.AndwehaveahandfulofEmperor’sChildrenprisoners.’Shespatbackadenialtomyoffer.‘Noneofthemmatter.Themeaninglesspainofinsignificantsouls.
ThisdeepintheGravebirth...Ineedmore,Khayon.GivemeAshur-Kai.’‘Icannotdothat.’‘Youcan.’Shebaredherteethinsomethingthatwasn’tasmile.‘Youcan,butyouwon’t.Youchooseto
denyme.’‘Phraseithoweveryouwish,’Ireplied.‘Gyre,moveawayfromher.’Theirsecretintimacyhadleftmecuriouslyuneasy.Thewolfobeyed,paddingtomyside,butthebeast’s
reluctancewasclear,andinthatmomentIhatedthembothforit.Nefertariwasdyingthistime.Icouldseethatassurelyasmybloodwardwasfeelingit.The
syncopationofherheartwasasickenedsnare.Icouldhearitfailingtokeepitsbeat,flickeringinherchestwithstaccatowildness.She’dpassedthepointofpain,pastevenagony.Thiswastorment,anditsaturatedherfleshandbones,throbbingtohercore.Herwingslookedasthoughthey’dbeensheddingfeathersandattractingfliesfordays.Theveinsbeneathhertranslucentskinstoodoutasblackcracks
throughuncleanmarble.Herslantedeyes,usuallysofierceandfocused,wereglassyandvague.Shecouldn’tdiewithoutmypermission.ButshecouldsufferenoughthatIwouldallowhertodie,in
thenameofwhatevermercyremainedinmyheart.Ithurttoseehersoweak.Thestorm’sclosenesswasanathematoher;nearnesstotheYoungestGod
wasstealingthelifefromherbody,hourbyhour.ItmadetheEyetheworsthidingplaceimaginableforoneofherkind–yetalsothebest,forherkindredwouldneverwillinglyfollowher.Andshehadahundredreasonstohide.HerewasmyNefertari,acreaturefromacursedbreed.Herracenolongerhadanyplaceinthegalaxy.Shespreadherwings,preparingtoleapupandtakeflightbacktothegargoylesabove.‘No,’Itoldher.Myoutstretchedhandclosedinaslowpurrofknuckleservos.Astelekinetic
nothingnesspulledatheranklesandwrists,bindinghertotheground,thealienmaidenthrashedandcriedoutinprotest.Bindingherbodywaschild’splay.Harderbyfartomanipulatehermind.Nefertari’spsychicdeadness
meantIhadtosacrificesubtletyforbruteforce,andshewasoneofthefewsoulsinthegalaxythatIhadnodesiretoharmmorethannecessary.Shewas,afterall,mybloodward.Iowedhermylifecountlesstimes.IpushedasidethetwindistractionsofGyre’saccusingstareandNefertari’scries,focusingonthe
infinitesimalpsychicmanipulationinsidehermind.Sweattrickleddownmyspine,addingtomyirritatedlackoffocus.Theseminisculeapplicationsofpsychicmanipulationdidn’tcomenaturallytome.Mytalentslayalongmoreviolentpaths.Ithreadedmysixthsensethroughherthoughtsofhelplesswrath,pushingpastsurfacerageanddeeper
pain,pastallemotionandmemory,seekingtheinnerworkingsofherinhumanbrain.And...there:thestrandsofbioelectricalforcethatlinkedconsciousnesstomuscle.Thousandsofthem,
tyingthebraintotherestofherbody.Itwouldhavebeeneasytoseverthemwithabluntpushofthought.Instead,Imassagedthemclosedwithunseenfingers.Apressurehere,areleasethere.Herheartslowed.Hereyesclosed.Shetumbledtothedeck–apuppetofcutstringsandmalnourished
limbs–andIloweredmyhandinslowrelief.Thisartificialslumberwouldn’tholdforlong.Ihadtoquenchherthirst.Sheneededpain,shefedon
suffering.Othershadtobleedsothatshewouldlive.Nothingelseceasedthehaemorrhageofhersoulintothevoid.Truly,thereisnomoremiserable,Gods-cursedracethantheeldar.‘Iwantherfedwhensherises,’Isaidaloud.Gyrewatchedmewithoutblinking.Sheneverblinked.‘I
willhavetheRubricaedragthirtyslavestothesacrum-levelentranceandleavethemthereinbindings.’Itisthestorm.Aviolentnexus,intheYoungestGod’sgravebirth.Iglancedupatthescute-shieldinghidingthevoidfromsight.Icouldhearit,thescreamingoflostsouls
astheshipploughedtowardsitsdestination.AndIcouldsenseit,feelit,becausesomethreatswereimpossibletoignore.Thestormwenavigatedwassomethingfrommythicnightmare.TheGodthatdestroyedherraceleachedherlife,callingforthesoulItwasowed.Youriskedwarp-walking,Gyrepressed.Here?Now?Inthisstorm?Ilookedatthecircling,stalkingwolf.Thecreatureeclipsedmostnaturalwolvesinsize,justasitfailed
tomatchthemincountlessotherdetails.Itcouldhaveswallowedachildwhole.IwashardlygoingtounsealtheAerieandriskherescaping,Ireplied.Neveragain.Ithadtakenthree
daystoendthelastmassacre.Whyareyouhere?Whatisthissecretintimacybetweenyouboth?Areyousoblindtotheneedsofyourdevotedfew?EvidentlyIwas.Thenenlightenme.
Iamtheonlylifeaboardthisshipwhosepainwillneversustainher.Whenshethirsts,mynearnessdoesnotfuelhertorment.AndsheistheonlymortalthatIamforbiddentodestroy.WhenIhunger,herclosenessoffersnotemptation.IwonderedhowmuchofthiswasthewolfinGyre’sheart,ratherthanthedaemoninherhead.The
beastsoundedalmostasthoughshespokeaboutapackmate.Shefeltmycuriosityacrossourbondandsnappedherjawsclosedwithasnarlingcrack.Donotmockme.Yourbloodwouldtasteveryfine,sorcerer.That,mybelovedwolf,isatasteyouwillneverknow.
HALO
IhavegrownusedtothesoundofThoth’spenscratchingonparchment.Ithasbecomethebackgroundmurmurtowhatisnowmylife,justastheconstantthrumofTlaloc’sgreatengineshadbeen,longagonow.AftertheTlaloc,therewastheVengefulSpirit.Andafterthat,theKrukal’Righ,knowntotheImperium
asthePlanetKiller.Eachofthemhadtheirownmechanicalsongthatbecame,inaway,asoothingsound.SoonwewillreachthepartofthischroniclewherewewalkedthedecksoftheVengefulSpirit.Thosearegoodmemories.Timesofunity.Timesofbrotherhood.Mycaptorscametomelastnight.Theycamewithquestions,nodoubtbornfromtherecollectionsI’ve
giventhemsofar.Thefirstthingtheydidwasspeakalonglistofnamesandtitlesattributedtome–tomydeeds,tothemassacrescommittedbythearmiesthatmarchbeneathmybanner.Theyspokeinaseriesofsolemnvoices;thoserenderingjudgementweremale,female,young,old.Theabsolutesincerityoftheirtoneswasallthatunitedthem.Theyreeledoffhundredsoftitles.Hundreds.Howmanycenturieshasitbeensincemyrealnamewas
spokenaloudbyanyoneintheImperium?Asoberingthought.Whenmycaptorsspoketheirscreedoftitles,I’dheardmostoftheminsomeformbefore.Theywere
thecursesmyenemiesshoutedupatthesky,fromtherubbleofcitiesburnedbymywarriors.Theywerethenamesspokeninprayers,wardsandblessingsbyunarmedinnocentsinthehopeIwouldnevermanifestfromthedark,likesomemonsterofmyth.Someofthenamesweredescriptivetothepointofmelodrama,grandbeyondreckoning,whileothers
werenotableonlyinasinglecityoraloneworld.Manyofthem–andtheseweretheonesthatmademesmile–wereforatrocitiescommittedbymybrothers’armies,onmybrothers’orders.AlmostadozenofthelistedmassacrestookplaceonworldsIhavenevervisited.ThreeofthemravagedworldsI’veneverheardof.Questionsfollowed,deliveredinthemeasuredtonesofthoseusedtogettinganswers.Thesemenand
womenhadinuredthemselvestoheresyoverthecenturiesoftheirlives,girdingtheirsoulsinthearmourofcontempt.Theydespisedme,buttheydidn’tfearme.Thatwasanotherincarnationoftheirignorance,ofcourse.Theydidn’tfearmebecausetheydidn’ttrulyknowwhattheyweredealingwith.Theyaskedtheirquestions,butIfellsilent,musingonthehundredsoftitlestheyhadbestoweduponme.Itwouldhavebeenpleasanttoseethem,tomatchfacestovoices.Itwouldhavebeenevenfinerto
sensethem,toreachforthemwithmysecretsight.Butwhiletheyarenaiveandignorant,theyarenotfoolish.Theyknowhowtokeepmeincaptivity.
‘Allthosenames,’Isaid,exhalinggently.Myinquisitorsfellsilent.TheonlysoundabovetheirquietbreathingwasthatofThoth’squill,
scratchingeveronwards.‘TheImperiumisfoundedupontheworshipofignorance.Ioffernoinsultbysayingit.Ignorancekeeps
stability,andstabilitykeepstheImperiumalive.Howplacidwouldtheuntoldtrillionsofthehumanherdbeiftheyknewwhatliesbehindtheveilofreality?Howdocilewouldtheybeiftheyknewevenashadowofthetruth?Ignoranceisanecessaryevilfortheempire.’Theydidnotdisputeit.Myhostsarefartooshrewdtobotherwithlies.‘YouhavelostsomuchlorethatIcanbarelycomprehendwhereyourignoranceendsandyour
innocencebegins.Again,Ioffernoinsult.Itissimplythewayofthings.Youhavegivenmehundredsofnames,andrecountedhundredsofwars.Mostaremine.Manyarenot.‘YounamemetheArch-HereticofAngelusPorphyra.YetIhaveneverlookeduponthatworld,even
once.YounamemeZaraphiston,asifIshouldbeawedatyourinsight,butZaraphistonisnotanamegivenatbirth.Itisatitlelatergraftedoveranidentity.AndyounamemeYgethmor,yetYgethmorisnotevenaname.It’sanexpressioninaforgottenlanguage,fromadeadworld.Itmeans“weaver”or“threader”ofthewarp.AndIamnottheonlywarriortobearthattitle,asithappens.Itseemstobeanameapplied,atwillandonwhim,towhomevertheImperiumishuntingatthetime.DoyoubegintoseewhatImean?’‘Whatlanguage?’oneofthefemalesasked.‘Fromwhatworld?’‘TherootlanguageisCthonic.Icanspeakseveralofitsdialects.TheworlditselfwasCthonia.Ihave
spokenofitbriefly,inretellingFalkus’sheritage.’‘Evenbeforeyourremembrances,weknewofUnholyCthonia,lostthesetenthousandyears.’Therewassomethingaboutthewayshesaidtheworld’sname.Shesoundedsoadamant,soutterlysure
sheclutchedthekeystothekingdom.Howmanysealedarchivesdidthisinquisitorhavetodecrypttocutfreethattinysliverofforbiddenknowledge?HowdesperatelyhastheImperiumtriedtopurgeallrecordoftheTraitorLegions?AndyettomockthemfortheirignorancewouldbetomisunderstandthescaleoftheImperiumandits
tenthousand-yeardevotiontopretendingthepastneverhappened.‘Youarestalling,’oneofthemalesaccusedme.‘TellushowtheSonsofHorustooktheirnewtitle.
TellushowtheybecametheBlackLegion.’Atfirst,Ihadnoanswer.Iwasn’tcertainthequestionwasgenuine.‘IsaidIwouldtellyouhowtheSonsofHorusdiedandhowtheBlackLegionwasborn.Ineversaid
onebecametheother.’Buthewasn’tfinished.Hehadscriptureofhisowntoquote.‘ItiswrittenbyScryerDianthon:“Andthus,drivenfromHolyTerraandreigningforevermoreinthe
underworld,theSonsofHorus,thetreacherousSixteenth,becametheBlackLegion.”’Ah.Suddenlyitallmadesense.‘Fromshameandshadowrecast,’Isaidsoftly,thewordsformyselfalone.‘Inblackandgoldreborn.’‘What?’‘Itoldyou–beforethebeginning,therewasanend.TheSonsofHorusneverreignedintheEye.Their
ghostscommandednothingbutgraveyardsoftheirownwarships.Theirshadesruledoverfallenfortresses.TheSonsofHorusdiedtenthousandofyouryearsago.Iknow.Iwatchedithappen.TheyweretheSixteenthLegion.ButtheBlackLegionwasnotfoundedbytheEmperorandneverfoughtinhisname.Itbearsnonumber.NumberswereonlybestowedupontheLegionsoftheGreatCrusade,andwe,myImperialfriends,aretheLegionoftheLongWar.’
Forfivemonthswesailed,weprepared,andwehealed.Eachonboarddawn,ItrainedwithLheorinthesparringcages,axeagainstaxe.SometimesAshur-Kai
wouldwatchwithemotionlessregard,orsometimesLheor’ssurvivingbrotherswouldwatchandcheerwhenoneofuslandedaparticularlyelegantorviciousblow.Theywereindiscriminateintheirpraise,laudinganydecentstrikeratherthansolelyencouragingtheircommander.Iadmiredthat.Thepaintheysufferedintheirskullsoftenmanifestedaroundthem.Whentheircerebralimplantstruly
bitdeep,littlesliver-spiritsofagonywouldflickerintobeing,crawlingacrosstheWorldEatersarmourplating.Thesemindlesspulsesofincarnatedsensationwouldskitterovertheredceramitelikelizards,beforedissolvingbackintothewarp-chargedair.Mostly,thelegionariespaidtheseinsignificantmanifestationsnoheedatall–theappearanceofminoremotion-daemonswashardlyrareintheEye–butLheor’slieutenant,thewarriorUgrivian,wasoftencrawlingwiththem.Isawhimeatoneofthemonce,thetinysnake-thingthrashinginhisfist,beforehebititssnappingheadoffandswallowedthemorselwithalowchuckle.‘YouareawaretheNeverbornoffernosustenancetous,’Ipointedouttohim.Heswallowedtherestofthesquirming,whitecorpse.Iwatcheditwrigglingdownthemusclesofhis
neck,beforeitfellintohisguts.‘You’regoodwithanaxe,Khayon.Irespectthat.Butyou’retoohighandmightytoadmitthere’sno
betterwaytoinsultanenemythantoshithimoutonceyou’redonewithhim.’Tomyshame,Ilaughed.‘Youarevile,Ugrivian.’‘Vile.Honest.’Heshrugged.‘AllthesameinthisGods-damnedplace.’Ashur-Kaideclinedallofferstospar.Iacceptedthemonhisbehalf,winningsome,losingsome,and
alwaysrelishingtheburnofhonestsweatthatfollowed.Ihadmissedthis,livingalonefortoolongwithonlyRubricaeforcompany.NoneofusspokeofFalkus’sfoolishambitionstofindAbaddonandtheVengefulSpirit.Noneofus
spokeoftheRadiantWorlds.Onemorning,whenLheorandIstoodexhaustedafteraboutthatlastedfourhoursandendedina
furiousdraw,IsawNefertariwatchingfromthechamberdoorway.Shehadhealedawayfromthestorm,slakingherpainfulthirstontheslavesIsenttoher.Still,sherarelylefttheAerie.Onthatmorningsheshookherheadinamusementatthesparshe’djustwitnessed,andleftusthere,unchallenged.SweatbathedLheor’sscarredface.‘Yourdisgustingalienwaswatchingus.’‘Shewas.’‘Icouldbeather.’‘No,’Isaidhonestly.‘Youcouldnot.’Dayslater,duringaduelwherewe’dbothcommittedtousingonlyunpoweredcombatblades,hetried
theancientandlaudedtrickofplaindistraction.‘Ilikeyouraxe,’hesaid,betweenthecrashingblades.‘What?’‘Youraxe.Ilikeit.Iwantit.’Basicconversationwassomethingthathaderodedfromme,andIhadneverbeenparticularlygiftedat
ittobeginwith.FewoftheLegionesAstartesare.‘RememberwhenIfoundyouonProspero?’hechuckled.‘LyingatopallthosedeadWolves,clutching
thatbigbastard’saxeinyourhand.TheWolfchampionyoukilled–whatwashisnameagain?’HedisengagedasIreplied,seekingtogainsomebreathingspaceinthedistraction.Nosuchluck;I
followed,bladeagainstblade.‘EyarikBorn-of-Fire.’
Iknewthat,forithadbeeninscribeduponSaernitself.TheWolfhadalsoshouteditatmeashetriedtokillme,nodoubtwantingmyshadetoreachtheafterlifeknowingjustwhohadbeenresponsibleformydemise.‘Theyneverdidanythingliketherestofus,didthey?Eventheirnameswereinsane.’‘Itwasasoulname.Theyusedthemas–’‘Icouldn’tcarelesswhatexcusestheygave.’Lheorgruntedasourkniveslockedtogether.Wemet,eye
toeye,untilhethrewmebackseveralmetres.Theduelcontinued.Tenminuteslater,aproposofnothing,hesaid,‘Thankyou.’Clever,clever.Ialmostloweredmyblade.‘Whyareyouthankingme?’‘Forgettingmeoffthatship.’‘Youarewelcome.Ifyouwish,wecanconductmoreformalfuneralritesforyourbrotherslostinthe
battle.’‘Funeralrites.’Abronzegrinsplithisruinedface.‘Warcatchesuptoeveryone,Khayon.There’sno
senserevellinginsorrow.That’salwaysbeentheproblemwithyouTizcans,eh?Makingsorrowintoanart.Theartofself-pity.’Hedidn’tletmereply.‘AndjustwhoisTelemachon?’heasked.‘Anoldenemy.’‘Obviously,elseyou’dnothavehadmedraghishalf-deadbodythroughyourmagicgate.’‘Pleasedonotcallitmagic.’Hegrinnedaswelockedbladesagain.‘Sohumourme.Ineverrefusehavingsomeonenewtohate.
Whoishe?’‘AnenemyfromTerra.’Isuspectedthatwouldbeenoughofananswertosethimontherightpath,andI
wasright.‘Ah,’Lheorgaveablack-heartedlaugh.‘CaptainLyralandthosepurplebastardsoftheFifty-First
Companyweresupposedtosupportyou,eh?Yettheyleftyoukickinginthewindandneverfiredasingleboltatthepalacewalls.’Itwasn’tanuncommontale.HundredsofforcesspreadacrosstheNineLegionshadcommittedtothe
SiegeoftheEmperor’sPalace,onlytofindtheIIILegionhadbrokenranksandabandonedthefight.Whilewefoughtanddiedonthewallsofthewar’sfinalfortress,theEmperor’sChildrentoretheirwayacrossmankind’scradleworldinthehuntforslaves,andthesatisfactionofbutcheringtheundefendedpopulation.Ithinkmostofusrealisedthatday,eventhroughthemadnessofthewarwewerefighting,justhowfar
theIIILegionhadfallen.NotfallentotheGods.No,onedoesnot‘fall’intothat,exceptinignorance.Imeanthattheydescendedintothepursuitoftheirowndesiresaboveallelse.Toabandonallambitioninfavourofslakingmortaldesire.Thatisareal,truefall.‘DidyoulosemanymenonTerra?’Lheorasked.‘Yes,’Iadmitted.Bothofuswerebreathingheavily.Bothcombatbladeswerebluntedandnickedto
nearuselessness.‘Agreatmany.’‘YouandIboth,sorcerer.Allthatplanning,eh?AllthosewarcouncilsaboardtheVengefulSpirit.All
ourfathers’best-laidplansturningtopissthemomentourbootstouchedsacredsoil.I’veseenbiggerfightssincethatbattle,butlosinghasn’teverhurtquiteasmuchasitdidthatday.’Thepaininhisvoicewassoreal,soearnest,thatIsteppedbacktogivehimpause.Thisdeserveda
morereasonedandfulldiscussionthan–Hiselbowtookmeinthecheek,hammeringmetothedeck.‘Tooeasy,’hesaid.‘TheTizcanway–distractedbysentimentandmelancholy.SeewhatImeanabout
turningsorrowintoanart?’Itookhisofferedhandashehelpedmerise.‘Lessonlearned.’
Wesailedfirstforthesafetyofneutralground.Forus,thatmeantGallium.TheKha’Sherhan,mywarband,hadnohomeportbutGalliumcameclose.Inorbitabovethemineral-richglobewithitscaulofochrecloudcoverwasNiobiaHalo,thecelestialfortressofGovernessCeraxia.Wehaddonebusinesstogetherseveraltimesinthepast.Iservedtoherexactingstandards,andshealwayspaidverywell.IttookfivemonthstoreachGallium,makinggoodtimethroughtheaetherictides.Eyespaceisneither
realnorunreal–itisanimpossibleamalgamationofboth,formingathirdelementbetweenphysicallawsandthestuffofimaginationandnightmares.Ourpurgatorialdomainisaplacewhererealityitselfanswersthewhimsofmortalminds.Emotionandthoughtreshapethewarp-touchedmatter.Whatyouimaginetakesformaroundyou.Whatyouthink,happens.Ittakesadegreeofstrengthtosimplynotdestroyyourselfwithawaywardthought,butweadaptedovertime.Forthosewhohaveneverwalkedwheregodsandmenmeet,Iwillcutthedescriptiontosomething
simpler.ItishardlyuncommonforImperialvisionariesandastropathstolooktoofar,toodeep,andsuffertheconsequencesofstaringintotheabyss.Theylosetheirmindsandcryofimpossiblescenesthattheyclaimarevistaswithintheafterlife.Thesetwistedtowersoffleshandbonerisingfromtheskull-encrustedsoiloftheEye’shell-worldsarenotarchitecturebroughtaboutbysweatandengineering.Slavesandmutantsanddaemonsdidnotbuildtheseunimaginableconstructs.Thefortressesoftheunderworldarebroughtaboutbyambitionandwillpower,notrockcreteanddurasteel.AsIsaid:whatyouimaginewilltakeshapearoundyou.Galliumwasonesuchworld.Theplanetwasoneimmensefoundry,frompoletopoleandhorizonto
horizon.Allsignsofnaturalweatherhadlongsincebeenslainfromitssurface.Thethick,unmovingcloudswerebornfromthemillionchimneysandsmokestacksofheavyindustry,andtheunpredictableprecipitationcameinsuddendelugesofpoisonousacidrain.Thefortress-foundriesofGalliumhadsuppliedtheTlalocwithammunitionandrepairseveraltimesin
thepast,inreturnformyservicesattheGoverness’sside.Ihadwalkedtheworld’ssurfaceonce,andhadnodesiretodosoagain.Thereislittleofinterestinseeingbillionsoffalse-lifeformsconjuredfromAetheriaatworkinminesandforges.Theworld’spopulationwereclockworkironavatarswithoutfacesorfeatures,ostensiblyhumaninshapeyetdevoidofallsoulandspark.‘Tellme,Iskandar,’she’doncesaidtome.‘YourRubricae...Wouldtheyworkinmyminesifyou
willedthemtodoso?’‘Theyaremybrothers,Governess,notslaves.Pleasebearthatinmindwhenyouaskmesuchthings.’NiobiaHalo,theorbitalinstallation,wasthefocalpointofactivityaroundGallium.Truetoitsname,it
ringedtheworldasahalo:ametalringabovetheplanet’snorthernpole,vastenoughtoreceivetencapitalshipsinitsdockyards,andarmedwithenoughfirepowertodefendagainstthreetimesthatnumber.Wewatcheditgrowingontheocculus.Fourshipsweredocked;anotheronestoodathighanchor.The
undockedvesselwasabruteinanysenseoftheword–theThane,aheavycruiserinthevoid-darkenedmetallichueoftheIronWarriorsLegion,nowwiththesplayedrobotichandsigilofGalliummarkedmorethanathousandtimesacrossitshull.Ithunginspace,watchingoveritsdomainincoldsilence.Evenfromthedistanceofourapproachvector,Icouldseeitsbattlementcannonsrollingtofaceus.Asimilarmotionwastakingplacealongthewallsofthestarport,aswell.NiobiaHaloknewwewerehere.‘Thedockedships?’Icalledfrommythrone.ItwasAshur-Kaiwhoansweredfromhisobservationbalconyabovethedeck.‘Thefrigatewithout
markingsreturnsnoalignmentcode,either.ButthedestroyeristheFuryoftheFirstLegion,andthetwofrigatesdeclarethemselvesastheKnaveofSwordsandtheSkinner.’TheFuryoftheFirstLegion.DarkAngels.RarewerethenightsthattheFirstLegion’srebel
battleshipssailedaspartofafleet.Theyweresurelyherealone.TheKnaveofSwordsandtheSkinnerdeclarednoallegiance–hardlyuncommonintheEmpireofthe
Eye–andIdidn’tcareenoughtolooktoodeeplyintotheirloyalties.Idoubtedwewouldbeherelongenoughtomakeanynewenemies.Evenso,Icouldn’tstopadisbelievingsmile.‘ThatwarbandnamedtheirvesseltheSkinner?’Ashur-Kai’sarmourjointssnarledasheshrugged.‘Soitseems.’TheSkinner.Thatwasawful.Wesailedcloser,preservedbythepromiseofneutralground,enforcedasitwasbythegunsofthe
Thaneandtheinstallationitself.‘TransmissionfromNiobiaHalo,’cametheAnamnesis’svoiceacrossthebridgespeakers.‘Awakenthelink.’‘Awakening...Awakening...Linkestab–’‘IamtheGuardianofGallium.Stateyourbusinessinthisterritory.’Thevoicewasneitherdeepnor
guttural,asmostwarriorsoftheLegionesAstartestendedtobe.Itwasamechanicalrasp,renderedthroughanimplantedvocaliser.Iknewitatonce.‘Valicar,werequestpermissionfortheTlaloctodock.Weseekrefuelling,rearmamentandminor
repair.’‘TheGovernessorherattendantswillhearthedetailsofyouroffersofbarter,’thevoicescraped.‘Is
thisunderstood?’Thesamegreetingeverytime.Hewasamanofironcladcustom.‘Itisunderstood,Valicar.’‘Youwillabidebythelawsofblade-peaceandgun-silencewhileaboardNiobiaHalo,whileuponthe
worldofGallium,andwhilewithintheGoverness’sprotectorate.Anyviolenceoutsideacceptedbattleritualsbroughtintomydomainwillbemetwithterminalconsequence.Ifyousweartoabidebytheselaws,stateyouragreementnow.’‘HaveIeverdisagreed?’‘Ifyouabidebytheselaws,stateyouragreementnow.’‘Iagree,Valicar.’‘NiobiaHalowelcomesyourreturn,IskandarKhayonoftheTlaloc.Yourhonourguardislimitedto
fivesoulsinaccordancewithNiobiaHalo’shostilityprotocols.Isthisunderstood?’Lheor.Nefertari.Gyre.Mekhari.Djedhor.‘Understood.’‘Thenpowerdownyourshieldsandunprimeyourweapons.Yourdockingplatformwillbeassignedat
once.Doyourequireanythingmore?’‘Ananswertoaquestion,ifyouareabletogiveit.’Hehesitatedattheunexpectedreply.‘Ask.’‘HaveyoureceivedwordfromtheSonsofHoruswarshipRiseoftheThreeSuns?’
ThesummonscamefromGovernessCeraxiabeforetheTlaloc’sguidancethrustershadthechancetogrowcold.Dockingarmsreachedfromthestation’shullascrewtunnelsandfuelumbilicalsextendedtothudagainsttheTlaloc’sskin.Theformerwouldkeepusinplacewhetherwewerefriendorfoe;thelattertwowouldremainalmostemptyuntilwenegotiatedforrepairandrefuelling.
Wewalkedacrosstheprimarycrewtunnel,wideenoughtoleadacolumnofbattletankswithroomtospare.Ourbootstepsrangaroundthewindowless,darkavenue.EvenNefertari’snear-silentgaitleftafaintechointhestillair.Gyrealonemadenosound.IwasexpectingaphalanxofHaloguardsatthebulkheadleadingintothestation,butIwasn’texpecting
Valicartobeleadingthem.HewasunchangedsinceIhadseenhimlast.Layeredarmourofoilysilvercoveredhisbody,but
couldn’tquitemaskthegratingdroneofsignificantbionicsbeneath.Industrialblack-and-yellowhazardstripingmarkedhisshoulder-guards,asitdidhisLegion’smechanicalburialmask.Inhishands,heclutchedaboltermadebulkybyauto-loaders,alengthyrangefinderscopeandanextendedbarrel.Suspensorthimblesranalongbothsides,thelittleanti-graviticcoinsrenderingtheweaponnearlyweightless.Itwasabolterdesignedtostartandfinishfightswithoneshot,onekill.Hisbackpackwassimilarlymodified,weightierthanmostwithdensepowercablesrunningthroughhis
shoulder-guardsandfeedingintomagneticgrapplesmountedontohisforearms.I’dneverseenhimusethembuttheirfunctionwasobvious:electro-tethers,abletobefiredacrosssignificantdistancesandfunctioningasgrapplinghooks.AroundhiminaloosearraywasagatheringoflegionariesandMechanicumskitarii,theIronWarriors
armedwithhalberdsandmauls,thecyborgedsoldierscladinrobesofdeepredandwieldingweaponsthatdefieddescriptionandname.Onewasplainlyalaserweaponofsomekind,withthickpowercablesfeedingbetweenaback-mountedpowerpackandtheskitarii’swrists,wherethethrall’shandswerefusedintoanimmensecannonwithfivebarrels.Thecannon-bearerlookedatmewithteneyelensesinsteadofaface,andeveryoneofthemrotatedastheyrefocused.Theactivewhineofthething’slasercannonwasirritatinglyintense.Myretinuehaltedbeforetheclusterofenhancedguardians,whichoutnumberedusthreetoone.Valicar’shelmwasathingofgreyceramitecrestedbystud-hornsofreddenedMartianbronze.Theleft
eyeandtemplewastakenoverbyawhirringtargetingmonocle.Hisgreetingwastypicallyneutral.‘ThewordwasthatyoudiedatDrolKheir.’‘Peoplekeeptellingmethat.Asyoucansee,itisnothingmorethanapersistentrumour.’‘I’minnohumourforfoolery.’Thetinnyraspofhisvoicewasdistinctlyharsh.Iwonderedifitpained
him?Amoment’sbrushofmysensesagainsthisrevealedthat,yes,itdid.Aconstantsorenessinthewetmeatofhisthroat.‘TheGovernessdemandsyourpresenceatonce,’hesaid.‘Trouble?’Hesnorted.‘Whereveryouwalk,Khayon,troublealwaysfollows.Justcomewithme.’ThearmedescortwasNiobiaHalotradition,andobjectingtoitwouldonlyincitedifficulties.Valicar
turnedandgesturedtohiscompanions,whopartedtoallowuspassageontothestation.TheHaloitselfwasnonstandarddesign,constructedfromseveralMechanicumcruisersandraw
materialminedfromthesurfaceofGalliumitself.Towalkwithinitsconcentrichallwayswastopassthroughaworldofblackironandredmetal,surroundedbythetick-tockingofclockworkmachinery.Theinhabitants’influenceovertheirorbitalcastleleftitaparanoidplace.Likesomanythingsinside
theEyeitreflectedthewhimsandwillsofitsclose-boundmortals,andNiobiaHaloexudedthesameaggressive,broodingneutralityprofessedbythosewhodwelledaboard.Itwasdark,litdimlyinthepartswhereitwaslitatall,andbeneaththesterilechemicalreekthatseemedtoflavourtheairinallofmydealingswiththeMechanicum,theHalo’shallssmeltofbodiesrottingoutofsight,decomposingunfound.Hereandthere,Gallium’swarp-formedmenialworkersmovedthroughthehallsinraggedgangs,
drivenbythemindsandelectricalcharge-whipsoftheirMartianoverseers.‘Haveyouheard?’Valicaraskedasheledus.‘Lupercalioshasfallen.’
Ilookedathim,atthepolishedmetalofhisunpaintedceramitearmour.‘Whotoldyou?’‘Afriendofyours.Hearrivedthreedaysago.’Myheartsgaveatwinthud.HadsomeoftheSonsofHorusmadeitaboardtheRiseoftheThreeSuns?
Hadtheymanagedtofleetheambush?‘Falkusmadeithere,’Iguessed.Whatoftheseer?cameAshur-Kai’seagervoice.WhatofSargon?Weshallsee.Valicarnoddedtomyguess.‘Falkusmadeithere.Iwouldn’tsoundsopleased,though,sorcerer.
There’snotmuchleftofhim.’
SECONDBORN
‘Wefoundthewreckagedeadinthevoid.Mysalvagegangswerealreadypullingthevesselapartbeforewefoundanysurvivors.’Fromthewaistup,GovernessCeraxiawasamythcoatedinmetal.Shepacedherchambersindignified
unrest,herfourarmsfoldedacrossherchest.HerewastheAncientInduasiangoddessKāli-kāgivenform,shapedfromalloy-blackenedbronzeandironandsteel.IdoubtedshehadtakentheshapeofaGoddessofTimeandDestructionbyintent,buttheresemblancewasonthehauntingsideofcoincidence.Herfacewasthedarkmetalvisageofasnarlingdaemoness,withslantedeyesthatseemedtobesmoothedobsidianovalsslottedintoironeyesockets.Shespokethroughclenchedgoldenteeth,andthefaintflickerlightofamouth-mountedvocaliserimplantshonethroughthegapsintheprayer-engravedfangs.Shewasmuchlesshuman–andmuchlessgodly–fromthewaistdown.‘Beholdourfindings,’shesaid.AfullinternalscanofthefrigateRiseoftheThreeSunsshowedonabroadmonitorscreenboundtothe
wall.Shestaredatitwithunerringfocus.Tomydismay,itshowedbrutaldamagefarbeyondwhatithadalreadysustainedbeforeandduringthestormambush.‘TheyranforGalliumafterall,’saidLheor.‘Howdidtheygethere?’TheGovernessstilldidn’tturnfromthediagram.‘TheydidnotquitereachGalliumitself.Webrought
thewreckageinfromtheedgeoftheBerylVicissitude.’Shepointedtoaseparatehololithshowingtheclusterofscab-likepatchesofevenfiercerinstabilityin
thestarsystemsaroundGallium.TheBerylVicissitudewasmerelyoneofdozensofwarpwoundspockmarkingthelocalregion.TheGreatEyewasforeverinflux,butcurrentsandtideswhirledaroundeddiesofdeeperunrestandislandsofrelativelystablepeace.WhateverhadhappenedtotheRiseoftheThreeSunsafteritvanishedintheheartofthestorm,ithad
appearedonthecuspofaparticularlyviolentregion.‘Whatofthesurvivors?’Iasked.‘Wherearethey?’‘TheyarehereaboardNiobiaHalo,containedwithinourmedicaecomplex.’Thewordgavemepause.‘Yousaid“contained”.Notrecoveringorrecuperating.Containedwithin
yourmedicaecomplex.’‘I’mverypreciseinmychoiceofwords,’shereplied.‘Youknowthat.AndI’mtakingthewreckageof
theirvesselaspaymentfortheirrestoration.Iftheyobject,I’llhavethemincinerated,andtheirashesflushedintothevoid.’‘How...generous,Governess.’‘It’sverygenerous,giventheutterruinationofthefrigate.Itsonlyvaluenowisscrapsalvage.Falkusis
amongthesurvivorsandIhaveadegreeoffondnessforhim,buthehastestedmypatiencewiththisescapade.Haulinghisship’scorpseinfromthedeepvoidtooksignificanttimeandeffort.Savinghislifecostevenmore.Heowesme,Khayon.HeowesGallium.’‘Whereisthewreckagenow?’‘DoIstrikeyouasanentitywithapenchantforcarelessness?’sheasked,beginningtopace.‘Itis
hidden.’Andnodoubtalreadybeingdismantled.Gallium’sneutralitymatteredaboveall.Ofcoursethecity-
statewouldhideaLegionvesselitsworkershadboarded,plunderedandstolen–eveniftheyclaimedthelegalrighttostealit.‘ValicarsaidthesurvivorsspokeofLupercalios.Andofme.’Ceraxiainclinedherheadasthoughsheweregrantingmeafavour.‘Yournamehasfeaturedamidst
whatlittlesensewe’vemanagedtogetoutofthem.IwillhaveValicartakeyoutothemsoon.First,ceasequestioningme.Iwouldlikeanswersmyself,Khayon.’Iwatchedherandsaidnothing.Galliumwasoneofmywarband’spreferredharboursandCeraxiawas
oneofmymostreliableallies.HertemperwasnotoneIwishedtoprovoke.Remaininginhergoodgracesmeantmuchtome.Ceraxianotedmycaution.Shecouldn’tsmile;theGovernesswasn’tasfarremovedfromherbiological
rootsasmanyoftheMechanicum’stech-priestelitesoughttobe,butherforge-wroughtfaceremovedtheoptionofanythingasbasicashumanexpression.Herlaugh,achuckleatbest,wasasurprisinglysmoothexhalationofbreathwiththeflickerofhervocaliserlight.‘Ilikeyou,Iskandar.’Ibowed.‘Iknow,Governess.’‘Tacticalcowardiceonemoment,andmoroniccouragethenext.Itmakesforadelightfulcontradiction.’Shekeptpacingaroundherseclusiuschamber,whichwasadomedplatformoverlookingNiobiaHalo
fromthesouthernhullsection.Itsscute-shieldingwasretracted,offeringanunparalleledviewoftheentireorbitalring,withthestarsaboveandtheworldbelow.Thered-violetthreadsofEyespacecurdledthesky,thoughnotenoughtomisttheviewofGallium’sdistantsun–anunhealthyblueorb,wrackedbysolarstorms.Iturnedmyheadtoregardthetwounalignedvessels,dockedandlockeddownontheoppositesideof
thestationtowheretheTlalocwasrefuelling.NeitherwarshipboretheinsigniaoftheirwarbandortheirLegion.Theirspecificallegianceswereimpossibletodetermine.‘Khayon,’saidtheGoverness.‘Whatwereyoudoing,meetingwithFalkusandLheorvineFirefist?’‘Don’tcallmeFirefist,’Lheorgrunted.TheGovernessturnedtoLheor,click-walkingclosertohim.AsIsaid,herfour-armedbodywas
ostensiblyhumanoid,withitsskinofblackenedmetalreflectingthedistantpoisonedsunlight.Theillusionofhumanityendedthere.Beneaththesculptedbarestomachandbreasts,utterlyruiningherstatuesquepresence,Governess
CeraxiawassomethingresemblingakyntafrosmonsterofGrekanlegend,knownalsobythenamecentaur.Ratherthanthelowerformofahorse,Ceraxiahadremadeherbodyintothatofanarachnid,withthemulti-segmentedstalklegsofascorpionorspider.Eightclawedandbladedmechanicallegsclackedtheirwayacrossthesmoothdeck,somehowneverpenetratingordentingthereinforcedfloor.Ahugescorpionofdarkmetal,withthebodyofagoddess.TheMartianMechanicumwouldnever
makesensetome,butIhadtoadmittheeffectwasqueenlyandregalinitsowninhumanway.Herjointsdidn’twhirrorgrindasourbattlearmourdid.Ceraxia’sjointsgavesmooth,rollingpurrsofsubtlemechanicalstrength.
‘Whatdidyousay?’‘Isaid,don’tcallmeFirefist.’‘Andwhynot?’Hebaredhisreinforcedbronzeteethupatherinanunpleasantgrin.‘Becauseithurtsmyprecious
feelings.’Sheacquiescedwithamechanicalchuckleandlookedbackdownatme.‘Whatwasthismeetingabout?
Whywereyougathering?’‘Itisnothingyouneedconcernyourselfwith,Governess.’‘Isee.Iappreciatewhatyou’redoing,Khayon.Icannotaffordtoplayfavouritesortochoosesides.
AndwhatsidewouldIevenchoose?TheNineLegionswagewarwithintheirownranksasoftenasagainsteachother.Thecity-statesandterritoriesoftheMechanicumarejustassunderedbydivisionanddivergentphilosophies.AsforthehumancoloniesintheSpatialDisarrangement–’‘Thewhat?’Lheorinterrupted.‘ShemeanstheGreatEye,’Isaidquietly.‘Yes,yes,theGreatEye,’Ceraxiacutin.‘Mypoint,littleTizcan,isthatIadmireyoursubtleattemptto
playinnocentinregardforGallium’sneutrality.ButyouandIarenostrangerstosecrettruths.Let’snotstartplayingcoynow.Whatwasthepurposeofthisgathering?’‘Warbandsmeetallthetime,Governess.Mattersofalliance.Mattersofconflict.’Shesighedmyname,turningfullytofaceme.‘WhycouldyounothavestayedherewhenIfirstmade
theoffer?TheLegionWarswillbethedeathofyou,andyouaresoveryuseful.Whymustyousowtheseedsofdiscordeverywhereyougo?AlreadywearehearingwordthattheThirdLegionwantsyourheadforsomenewsin.’Sheprowledbackandforthbeforeus,eightbladedlegsclicking.Despiteherinhumanityshewasa
slenderthing,moregracefulthanmightbeimaginedfromanymonstrousenvisioning.Cableshungandswayedbetweenherarachnidlimbs,givingtheindustrialimpressionofwebbing.‘TakemetoFalkus,’Isaid.‘Tellmewhyhesummonedyoutogether.ThenIwilltakeyoutohim.’Whatharmwasthereinthetruth?Woulditreallyendangermyneutralhaven?PerhapsIwasbeingtoo
cautious.CeraxiaandValicarhadsurvivedconflictandintriguemanytimesbefore.‘Falkushasacquiredaseerofimmensepower.Hebelievestheprophetcanleadhimtofindthe
VengefulSpirit.LheorandIagreedtoaidhim.’‘Whywouldyoudothat?’Lheoransweredforme.‘TheThirdLegiontooktheWarmaster’scorpse.’‘Arumour,’Ceraxiawavedthreeofherhandsinadismissivegesture.‘Andlikelyalie.’‘Falkuswasthere,Governess,’Ireplied.‘Itrusthim.’‘Falkusmadenomentionofsuchanevent.’‘HeseekstomaintainGallium’sneutrality,’Ipointedout.‘AsdoI.’Thatwasflattery,ofakind.FarmorelikelythatFalkuschosenottorevealthetruthtoCeraxia,knowing
shewouldnevertakeasideeitherway.Butshehesitatedthen,ratherthanspeakimmediatecondemnation.Behindthelensesthatservedasher
eyes,thepossibilitiesbegantounwind,spoolingthroughherthoughts.Shegaveasurprisinglydemureshudder.‘Athreat,iftrue,’sheadmittedatlast.‘Asignificantandtastelessthreat.’‘Cloning.’Lheoragreedbysayingthewordlikeacurse.Ceraxiastoodabovemeagain,leaningdownenoughthatourfacesalmosttouched.Thin-filament
circuitryranacrosstheepidermallayerofherblackmetalskin,andthechemicalsmellofhernearnessreturnedtenfold.‘Itoldyoutostayoutofthiswar,Khayon.’‘Yes.Youdid.’‘ItoldyoutolettheSonsofHoruswalkaloneintohistory’spageswithoutinterfering,forthosewho
taketheirsidetendtofallalongsidethem.I’dhopedtheLegionWarsmightendwiththefallofLupercalios,yetthatseemsaforlorndesirenow.’IfeltLheor’seyesdrillingintothesideofmyskull.Gyrecircledus,ignoredbytheGovernessbut
watchedbyValicarandhisarmedminionsstandingbythegantrystairwaythatleddownintothestation’sring.‘Well?’Ceraxiaasked,withtheimpatienceofatutorexpectingananswerfromastudent.Herobstinacygratedonme.IdoubtedSargon’swordswereanythingbutatrapandIhadnowayof
knowingifchasingtheVengefulSpiritwasafool’spursuit.Iwashardlyblindtomyowndesperationinallofthis.‘IhavetoattacktheCanticleCity,Governess.DoIneedtodetailthewaysinwhichaprimarchreborn
couldtipthebalanceoftheLegionWars?WhenallourfathersarelostandascendedintotheGreatGameofthePantheon...Ceraxia,itdoesnotmatterwhethertheSonsofHorusarealiveordead,orwhethertheVengefulSpiritisamadman’sdreamorlyinginwaittobereclaimed.TheEmperor’sChildrencannotbeallowedtowintheLegionWars.’‘Conjecture,’shesaidwithanimperiousair.‘Notconjecture.Possibility.’‘Thereismoretothisthanidealism,Khayon.Donotplaytheproudheroinmypresence.’Lheorsniggeredratherlikeachild.Iletitpass,forCeraxiawascorrect.‘Iwanttheship.Iwantthe
VengefulSpirit.’Thatalmostswayedher,Iwassureofit.Onlywithreluctancedidshedismisstheideawithasigh.‘Tempting.Soverytempting,sorcerer.Butno,Icannottakesides.Iwillnotstopyou,thoughnorwillI
aidyou.’Thatwasnosurpriseatall,andIpreferredherambivalencetoherlecturing.Icouldnotresistonelast
twistoftheblade.‘Thedaymaycomewhenyouhavetotakeaside,Governess.’‘Doyoubelieveso?’askedthegoddess-monstrosity.‘ForwhatreasonwouldIaddmyforcestoeither
side?IowenothingtotheSonsofHorus,andbeartheEmperor’sChildrennotormentedgrudge.TheEmpireoftheEyewillstillthriveevenifyoufoolishpost-humanscan’tputdownyourboltersandceasemurderingeachother.ThousandsofworldsexistinthisrealmuntouchedbytheNineLegions.TheGreatCrusadeisover,Khayon.ThegalaxynolongerbelongstotheLegionesAstartes,andtheEyeneverdid.Ifonlyyoucouldalllearnthatlesson...But,no.Instead,youfightandbleedanddieanddragusalldownwithyou.Sowasteful.Sovery,verywasteful.’Ikeptmysilence,lettingherspeak.Ceraxiasteepledherfingers–allsixteenofthem,withherfour
thumbs–asshespoke.‘Gallium’sneutralityisrecognisedbymanywarbandsfromacrosstheLegions.Itisasanctuary,andmustremainso.’‘Timeschange,’saidLheor.‘TheLegionWars–’‘Hush.’SherestedherhandonLheor’shead,asthoughshewereapriestessanointingaworshipper.
‘Hush,CenturionUkris.Idonotpossessthekindofheartormindthatwillbendtoanyconvictionsyouarecapableofmaking.ButyouarewithFalkus,whomIadmire,andKhayon,whomIcherish.SoIwillnotpunishyouforyourlackofrespectfulmanners.’
‘Hnnh,’wastheWorldEater’sgracelessreply.Ceraxialiftedherhandaway.Awisemove,forIsuspectedshe’dbeenabouttoloseittoablowfromachainaxe.Lheorwaslookingdirectlyatme.‘I’veheardwarbandsspeakyournameinwhateverpassesforfear,
andI’vehearditcursedbymenanddaemonsalike.Itneveroccurredtomethatsomeonewouldactuallylikeyou,Khayon.’‘Eshaba,’IrepliedinNagrakali,themongreltongueofhisLegion.Lheorsmirkedatmypolitethanks,
butCeraxiareachedoutoneofherfourarmstorunablackfingertipdownmyshoulder-guard.ShetracedmynamewritteninProsperineuponthecobaltceramite.Atargetlockchimedonmyretinaldisplayasitframedherface.Shesmeltoffyceline,ofgunsmoke,of
dragon’sbreath.‘It’stherespectheshows,WorldEater,andthevisionhebringstohiswork.’Hervoicewasgentler
now,herfocusdriftingbacktoLheor.‘KhayonisanexampleofwhattheLegionscouldbecome,iftheyallowedthemselvestheluxuryofevolution.Ilikethewayhecarrieshimselfwithnopretension,andrespectstheautonomyoftheMechanicum’scolonyworlds.IlikethewayhisnameechoesacrosstheEye–themagewhosoughttostopAhriman’smadness.Thesorcererwhostandswiththealienangel.Thewarriorwhosellshisaxeandsorcerytothehighestbidder.’Shelookedbacktome,then.‘Andtheydobidhigh,dotheynot?Allthatheavyironandarmouredsteel,
foreveraddingtoyourSyntagma.’IthoughtofthepricelessrelicrobotsaboardtheTlaloc.ThehundredsI’dgatheredoverthedecades,
allwovenintothegestaltconsciousnessoftheAnamnesis.Woebetideanyenemyfoolishenoughtoboardmywarship.‘HowistheAnamnesis?’theGovernessasked.‘Sheiswell.’‘Good.Good.’Ceraxiawasstillstaringatme.Icouldgivespeechestoregimentsofwarriorsbeforea
battle,ororderathousandslavestotheirdeathswithoutthinkingtwice,yetbeforeCeraxia’sglareIfeltsuddenlyself-conscious.‘Givehermykindestregards.’‘Ishall,Governess.’‘Valicar,takethemtothesurvivorsoftheRiseoftheThreeSuns.AndKhayon?’‘Governess?’‘Don’texpecttoomuchfromanyofthem,mysorcerer.TheJustaerinarenotwhattheyoncewere.’
NiobiaHalo’smedicaechambersweremoreakintoworkshopsthanplacesofhealing.Wewalkedamongthem,andwheretheslavesandthrallsbowedbeforemeandmadehastetoscatterbeforemypath,theywatchedNefertariwithnothingshortofterrifiedhatred.TheImperiumloathesalienswithaveneerofshallowhypocrisy,asroguetraders,voidexplorers,anddesperategeneralshavedealtwiththegalaxy’sxenosbreedsontheImperium’sfrontierssinceourspeciesfirstleftTerra.ButintheEmpireoftheEye,inhumansaretrulyloathedbeyondallelse.Thisisthedomainofmananddaemon,bornwiththedeathofanalienempire.Hundredsoffigurespopulatedthemedicaechambers,asmightbeexpectedonastationthesizeof
NiobiaHalo.MachineswhosefunctionIcouldonlyguessatrattledandthrummedinsocketsandcradlesthroughouteachroom,connectedtolife-supportengines,plasmacyclers,vitaeinfusersandawealthofevenlessobviousequipment.Halfofthemachinerylookedalive;veinsshowedinsteadofcablesinliving,contouredmetal.TheGodsaloneknewwhatloretheMechanicumwasputtingtousehere.Valicarledus,earningprostrationsfrommenialsandminionsaswepassed.Wemovedthroughthe
communalchambers,roomafterroom,intotheguardedvaultsbeyond.Runesflashedonmyretinal
displayasthetemperaturedropped.LheorandNefertari,whowerebothbarefaced,breathedmistintothechillair.Themomentweenteredthatvault,Ihadtostopandclutchtheirondoorframe.Hungerwashedoverme
andthroughme,savageenoughthatitmademesweat.Gyrebreathedalowsnarlatmyside.IsmellSecondborn.‘What’swrong?’askedLheor.‘WhatintheGods’namesiswrongwithyou?’‘Nothing,nothing.’Ittookamomenttoshieldmymindagainstallintrusion,barricadingmyselffrom
sensingtheemotionsofothers.Doingsowassuddenandstark,likeclosingone’seyesorsuddenlygoingdeafinacrowdedroom,butbetterthatthanrecoilagainsttheoverwhelmingsenseofstarvationinthechamber.Whateverwasinherewasdying.Iwasamazeditwasn’talreadydead.Secondborn,Gyrepulsedagain.Wefacedalong,highwallofuprightimmersioncocoonsandstasiscoffins.Things–humanoidbutnot
human–thrashedinthereddenedfluidofeachpod.Appendagesthatresembledhandsclaweduselesslyatthereinforced,transparentward-glass.Torturedsmearsoffeaturesthatwereoncefacesbubbledupthroughthemurk,stickingtothefrontofthepodsandstaringoutatus.Theirjawsworkedinfutility,leavingscumstainsontheglasswheretheirfangsscratchedandtheirlongtongueslashed.Secondborn.Gyrewasright.AllofthemwereSecondborn.Ifeltthemindsofthementheywere,and
theinhumanthoughtsofthethingswearingtheirbodies.Ablendofmortalityandthewarp,nolongertheformer,notentirelythelatter.Emotiongivenforminflesh.Tobepsychicallygiftedamongaclusterofdaemon-possessedsoulsistoheartheconflictingwantsand
hungersofcountlessconflictingessences.YetIfeltlittleofthathere.Thedaemonsatwarwithinthebodiesoftheimprisonedwarriorsweresosimilarastoresembleeachotherdowntotheirinnermostcores,nodifferentfrommirrorimagesofoneanother.Itwasasiftheywereallbornofthesameemotions,withthesamelustsandcravings.Thatdegreeofsymbiosisbetweenevencloselybounddaemonswasbeyondrare.MyskincrawledwiththeunnaturalnotionevenasIdrewcloser,fascinatedbythepossibility.Imovedtothefirsttank,staringatthewrithingshapewithin.Somethingcrashedagainstthewarding
glass,itsmandiblesstraining.Thebonesofitsfacewereelongatedandjagged,farbeyondhuman.Whisperytracesofitsbestialhungerstrokedattheedgesofmymind,butIwaswellpreparedtoresistthistime.Itstillworeitsbattle-damagedarmour,castinthecharcoalblackoftheJustaerin.Vestigialwings
trailedthroughtheimmersionfluid,tooconfinedtostretchoutwide.Thingsofdirtyboneandleatherymembranes,darklymajesticintheirownway.Theyseemedtoswellandgrowinrhythmwiththething’sheartbeat.Behindme,Lheorasked,‘HowmanydidyoupullfromtheThreeSuns’wreckage?’Valicargesturedtothetanksliningthewalls,eachonehookeduptochemicalfiltersandvitae
sustainingengines.‘Thesetwenty.Anotherfewinthenexttwovaults.’Hewaspassionlessashereported.‘Thehuman
crewwasslain.Falkussaidtheyweredevouredwhenthewarpcoreignited.’Sothatwastheflashofenergywe’dseeninthestorm’sheart.Falkusandhiswarriorshadmanagedto
escapetotheRiseoftheThreeSuns,onlytomeetwithdisasterwhentheshipsoughttoflee.ItwasalltooeasytoimaginethefloodofNeverborndrawntothebeaconofthewarship’sdetonatingwarpcore,andthethousandsofunprotectedhumansoulsaboard.HadSargonanythingtodowiththis?Hadhetriedtoguidetheshiphere?GalliumwasFalkus’smostobviouspointofcallinsuchanhourofneed.‘We’rekeepingthemnumbedwithalchemics,’Valicaradded.‘Someofthemarelost–othersstillshow
signsofwhotheywere.’IwasreluctanttoaskaftertheWordBearersprophet.ItrustedValicarasItrustedCeraxia,butIwas
notsureIwantedeitherofthemseeinghowdeepmyinterestreallyran.Andthelesstheyknew,thelesstheycouldrevealifitwasforcedfromthem.Wewalkedon.SeveraloftheSonsofHorushadbeenpulledfromtheirarmour.Severalhadnot.Falkus,Isentintothefleshtanks.Khayon?Mybrother’svoice,thoughonlybarely.Comingfromapodbythewesternwall.Wedrewnearerto
him.NefertariwhisperedsomethingIdidn’thearinmydistraction,andLheorcursedinhisLegion’sugly,contrivedtongue.WhenwarriorsoftheLegionesAstartestakecripplingwounds,theytendtoreactintwoways.Thefirst
oftheseisshame.Notmelancholyorsorrow,butanhonestandsavageshame.Theshameofsurvivingwhenyourbattle-brothershavefallen.Theshameofbeingunabletoholdthelineagainuntilyourwoundsaretended.Itisn’tawhiningsenseofmawkishnessbutawoundtothepsycheasmuchasthebody.Whenyoucannolongerfulfilyoursolepurpose,theveryreasonyouwereelevatedabovemortalmen,therewillalwaysbeasliverofshame.Doubtcutsintoyourcore.Thesecondreaction,muchmorevisible,israge.Sometimesthisisartificialorcarriesatheatricaledge
toquenchthefeelingsofshame.Moreoftenitissimpleanger–angeratyourselfforallowingthistohappen,angeratyourworthlessluck,angeratyourfoesforwhatevertreacherousmovementslippedbeneathyourguard.Theragecanbestainedbyhumour,ordefiance,orvowsofretributionsworntothebrothersatyourbedside.Innerstrengthwillmanifestanynumberofways,butangerliesattheemotion’score.WhenIreopenedmysensestobondwithFalkusoncemore,Isensedneitherofthecustomarysoldierly
emotionsIhadbeenexpecting.InsteadIsensedthevolcanic,bitterpresencesharinghisform,andIsensedhisownwearinessasashroudaroundhismind.Hewasfightingforcontrolofhisownbody.Andhewassovery,verytired.Khayon?Iamhere,Falkus.Iapproachedtheglasstank,lookinginattheclawedcreaturemybrotherhad
become.Iwantedhimtofeelmynearness,ifsuchathingwaspossible.Falkuswascurledover,almostfoetalinthebubblingsuspensionfluid,pinnedattheheartofawebof
chemicalfeedsandnutrition/excretioncables.Skinlessmuscleshowedwithstringsofviscerastilltrailingawayfromthebaremeat,muddyingthesurroundingliquid.Evidenceofmutationallethalityshowedonhisnakedform:knivesofyellowingbonepushedthroughjointsandmusclegroupsinivoryspines.Neverborn,Khayon.Thousandsofthem.Whenwetriedtorun,wecameunderfire...Thewarpcore...
Theshipwasbreached.Thedualityofhisvoice–aman’ssincerityandadaemon’ssmilingwhisper–addedamaliciousedge
tohistones.Iunderstand,Falkus.WhatofSargon?Gone.So.Sargonhadfallen.Didthatchangeanything?Couldwesailintotheunknownwithnoguide?Would
weevenwishtosailthereatall,headingintoatrapbasedonadeadman’spromise?Yes.IwantedHorusReborndead,andIwantedthatship.WithoutSargon,though...No,Falkuspressed.Heheardmythoughtsandansweredthem.Notdead,Khayon.Gone.
Istaredatthemonsterwithitsfleshinflux.Gone?YoumeanhevanishedbeforetheNeverbornattack?Icannotsayforcertain.WeescapedtotheRiseoftheThreeSuns,thoughitshatteredour
teleportationcrucible.Theshipran.OnemomentSargonwasthere,readytoguideustosafety.Thewarpcoreignited.Therewaslightandsoundandburningmetal.ThencametheNeverborn.Isaidnothing,lettingmysuspicionsform.Neverinallmyyears–notthen,andnotsincethatnight–
haveImetanaltruisticprophet.Everyseerisouttoseeksomethingforthemselves,followingtheirownagenda.IwonderedjustwhatthisWordBearerhadintended,andwhathehadwroughtwithhispower.Iamgettingyououtofhere,Falkus.Icanstillfeelmyfingers,therevenanttoldme,inastrainedhuskofFalkus’snaturalvoice.Itsvicious
talonsscrapedagainsttheglass.Icanfeeleveryatomofmybodyshivering,changing.Beneathhiswords,Icouldfeelthesamething.Thedaemoninsidehisbodywasflowingthroughhis
bloodstream,mutatingallittouched.Aslowprocess,butaninexorableone.Bide,mybrother.IwillgetyoutotheTlaloc.Therevenanttwitchedinthemurkoncemore.Ihatedhearingitsraspingvoice.TheVengefulSpirit,hesaid.Willyoustillhelpmefindit?Youarefortunatetobealiveatall.Thisquesthasalreadycostyouafleet,hundredsofwarriors,and
thousandsofslaves.Thecreaturecrashedagainstthefrontofitstank,clawsreachingforme.Theslitmawgnashedas
thoughitsoughttofeedonmyflesh.IwillfindAbaddonIwillfindAbaddonIwillf–Falkus...IwilltaketheVengefulSpirititisthehopeofmyLegionIwill–Becalm,mybrother.Iwillaidyou.OfcourseIwillaidyou.Iamhere,amInot?Therevenantslowedinitsthrashing.Theykeepussluggishwithcognitionsuppressorsandadrenal
nullifiers.Preventingescape.TheGoverness’sprecautions,nothingmore.IhaddealtwithSecondbornbefore,countlesstimes.Iwouldnotkeepthemrestrained.Ihadnoneedto.Freeme,Khayon.Truetoform,evenhisravagedandharrowedformexudedannoyanceathistrappedfate.Butfreehim
fromwhat?Thebondsofimprisonmenthere,orfromthedaemonwithin?Despitemystrength,therearelimitstoanyman’spower.Drivingadaemonfrommortalfleshwasnotamatterofsimpleexorcism,likesomepriestlyprayerorshamanicchanting.Therealitywasalmostalwaysfataltothehost.Iwillfreeyou,myfriend.OnceyouareaboardtheTlalocwewillconsiderdaemonicbanishment.Thebrokenmanconvulsedinthefluid,shaking,bleeding,writhing.AtfirstIthoughthisangerhad
brokenthroughatlast,butitwasanuncontrolledspasmthatbenthisbodyinpainfulwrenches.Wasitcriticalorganfailure?Hisbio-signshadneitherpeakednorplummeted,yethecontinuedtoshudder,thefangedholeofhismouthgapingandquivering.Hismutatedformbledandshookandthrashedinitssuspensionrestraints,talonsopeningandclosing.AndthenIheardit,acrossthetenuouslinkbetweenourminds.Hewasn’tdying.Hewaslaughing.
REBIRTH
AsIdictatethesewordstoThoth,Iamawareofagrowingunrestamongstmycaptors.ThesemenandwomenwhostylethemselvesinquisitorswouldhavemetelltalesoftheBlackLegion’svictories–oftheBlackCrusades,theSonsofHorusreborn,theHeraldsoftheEndTimes.Theycravesomesliverofweaknesswithinthewords,prayingthatmyhonestywillbetrayavulnerabilitywithinmyLegion’sheart.YettheyaredeceivingthemselveswiththosebeliefsandmakingtheverysamemistakethattheNine
LegionsmadewhentheBlackLegionfirstbeganitsrise.Ourtruthisnotlockedupinsimplemartialmightorunbreakablewill.ItisthesamewithAbaddon.TheWarmasterwieldsabladethatrendsrealityapart,andbearstheclawthatkilledtwoprimarchs,yeteventheseweaponsaremeaninglesstrinketsonthepathofhislife.Chroniclesliketheserequireacertaincontext.Itisimportanttoknowwherelegendsendandhistorybegins.SowewillcometothearrivalofMoriana,handmaidentotheEmperorandseertotheDespoiler,
knownacrosstheEmpireoftheEyeastheWeepingGirl.WewillcometotheTowerofSilenceandthedaemonbladeDrach’nyen.WewillcometotheKrukal’Righ,forgedintheoceansofunrealityandcalledPlanetKillerbytheImperiumofMan.Thefirstofus–Lheor,Telemachon,Ilyas,Valicar,Falkus,Sargon,Vortigern,Ashur-Kaiandmyself,
amongsomanyothers–havespokenofthisverything,manytimes.JustasthestoryofAbaddonisthestoryofthebrokensoulsheremadeasbrothers,thestoryoftheBlackLegionisboundupinthetalesofthoseexilesandoutcastshedrewtogetherovertime.Itiswhatmakesusunique.ItiswhyweconqueredtheEmpireoftheEye,andwhywewilltaketheThroneofTerra.Itwilltakemanyhundredsofpagestotellevenafractionofwhathastranspiredovertenthousandof
youryears,andIwillnotbrushasidetheBlackLegion’sprologue.Thiswillallbetoldwithoutthetheatreofexaggerationorthecomfortoflies.ButfirstwewillcometoEzekyleAbaddon.MyWarmaster,mybrother,burdenedbyresponsibility
beyondanyotherwarriorwhohaseverlived.Themanwhowatchesthegalaxyburnthrougheyesbleachedgoldbythelightofafalsegod.ThejourneytotheEleusinianVeiltookalmosthalfaTerranStandardYearinthetime-lostfluxof
Eyespace.Duringthattimeoftrainingandrebuilding,wesettledintothedubiousstabilityclaimedbymostwarbands.Falkusandhiswarpedbrethrenjoinedus,bringinganewhordeofdifficulties.Ashur-KaiandI
providedthemwithasectionofthearmamentdistrictwheremybattlecompanyhadoncetrainedandpreparedforbattle.Withindays,itwasahoveloffilthandflux,withthewallsthemselvesremadebythebitterfuryemanatingfromtheSonsofHorussurvivors.SomeofthemruledtheNeverbornwithintheir
bodies.Otherswerealmostentirelylosttodaemonicpossession.‘Controlthem,’IwarnedFalkuswhenhebroughtthemaboard.Ididnotaddanywarningbeyondthe
obvious:IcouldunmakeanyofthemifIchose.TobeSecondbornisneveramatteronecanreducetotermsofblackandwhite.Likeeverything
touchedbythewarp,itisacontinuum.Manyhostsdiewithinthefirstfewweeksoftheirrebirthastheirphysicalformswitherunderthesufferinginflictedupontheirbodies,whileothersaresubsumedbythedaemon’semergentconsciousness.Evenifthehostsurvivesthefirstchanges,thefinalbeingcannotbepredicted.ASecondbornmightbetheresultofbothconsciousnessessharingthesamebodyatalltimes,orthedaemon’spresencemayonlyawakenintimesofbattleandhighemotion.Falkuswasoneofthelatterbreed.Hisinnerstrengthallowedfornootherendgame.Notallofhis
warriorssharedthatfate,however,andevenamongthosewhodid,thefirstfewmonthscomprisedaperiodofsevereunrestaboardtheTlaloc.TheSonsofHorushuntedthroughtheship’stunnels,screamingandmassacringinthehungerforwhateverpreyhadcapturedtheirmetaphysicalimaginationthatnight.Theeyesofawomanwhohadneverwalkedonthesoilofaworld,thebloodofamanwhohadkilledhisbrother,thebonesofsomeonewhohadneverseenthestars...Theircravingsmadelittlesensetotheuninitiated,butonecannotquestiontheneedsofdaemons.Theyarefuelledbythingsofthestrangestsignificance.MyRubricaeguardedtheship’smostpopulousdistricts,andtheAnamnesissummonedseveralcohorts
oftheSyntagmatowatchovertheCore.Beyondthat,wetrustedFalkustoworkthroughtheTimeofChangewithoutcausingtoomuchdamage.Severalofhismendiedduringthejourney.Somesuccumbedtotheexpectedphysicalconsumption.My
Rubricaekilledonewhenthewarriorraninamindlessmassacrethroughaheavilypopulatedregion,andNefertarikilledthreeoftheotherswhentheymadethemoronicdecisiontoconsiderherasprey.Shebroughtmetheirtuskedhelmsasevidence.‘IcanseewhytheGovernesskeptthemsedated,’Lheorremarkedaswediscussedit.Heconsideredthe
Secondbornasapleasantdistraction,infavouroftheirstrengthandsanguineabouttheirlackofself-control.ManyoftheNineLegionsconsideredsuchuniontobesacredinsomeway,orasignofworthinessintheeyesoftheGods.ThefaithlessmembersoftheLegions,ofwhichtherearemany,aren’tblindtothestrengthsofferedbydaemoniccommunion.Tosurvivepossessionistoemergewithimmensestrengthattheendofthetorturousbond.‘Theonlydifferencebetweenthemandusisthattheirdaemonsareliteral,’Lheorsaid.‘Theydon’t
pineoverburnedhomeworldsorlosethemselvestopainengineslatchingontotheirbrainmeat.’Herehepaused,tappinghisdirty,armouredfingertipsonhismetalteeth.‘FalkusisstillFalkus,nomatterwhatelseisinhisbody.’He’dfoughtwithSecondbornbefore.Iftheyneededtimetoadjustandcontainthechangeswracking
theirnewforms,hewantedtoallowit.‘Youcanalwaysreplacehumans,’headded,referringtothebutcheredcrew.Ashur-KailookedupontheSecondbornasaplague.Hisobjectionsweren’tfoundedonanydelusions
ofFalkus’scorruption,butbecausetheWhiteSeerwasnotthekindofsoulwhoenjoyedunreliable,unstableallies.HehadalwaysdespisedLheorforthesamereason.‘Tokugrahasspokenillofthem,’thealbinosaidtomeduringoneofourrareexchangesonthesubject
oftheSecondborn.IthoughtofAshur-Kai’sravenfamiliar–anirritating,babblingthingthatdidnothingbutroostinmybrother’schambersandcawmeaninglessrhymes.IdidnotcarewhatTokugrahadsaidofFalkus.InevercaredwhatTokugrasaidaboutanything.WhentheSecondbornwerelooseandactingupontheirpredatorinstincts,theywereatleast
predictable.SoonenoughFalkusceasedrespondingtovoxhails.WhenIreachedforhimwithmysenses,Imetnothingbutfluctuatingspiteandrage.Whateverinternalwarwrackedhim,itwasnowbeingfoughtinearnest.‘Leavethemalone,’Ashur-Kaiadvised.‘Fornow,atleast.’Iheededthatadvice.‘Didyousensethekinshipbetweenthedaemonsridinginsidetheirskins?Theyfeltlikemirrored
reflectionsofoneanother.’Ashur-Kaiconfessedthathehadsensednosuchthing,nordidthepossibilityinteresthimasitdidme.
Histalentsinmanipulatingdaemonkindhadalwaysbeenerraticatbest.‘Idon’tseehowitmatters,’hepointedout.‘Eventhepossibilityishardlytantalising.’‘Iamacurioussoul,’Ireplied.‘AtraitourLegionusedtoconsideravirtue.Andlookwhathappened.’Hegavearare,thin-lipped
smile,andweletthematterlie.Duringthejourney,Nefertariwasevermyshadow.Ashur-Kaiwaslongusedtoherpresenceatmy
side,butLheorvineandhisWorldEatersfoundhernearnessdiscomfitingatbestandgratingatworst.ShenevermissedanopportunitytobaitLheorintoaspittingmatchofexchangedinsults,whointurnneverresistedtheurgetoanswerback.‘Wasn’titourchargetocleansethegalaxyfromtheimperfectionofalienlife?’heaskedmeonedayon
thebridge.Asusual,hesaidsuchthingsinfrontofNefertari,seekingtoworkawayathertemper.‘OurchargewasalsotoservetheEmperor,inarealitywheredaemonsweremythsandgodswere
legends.Thingschange,Lheor.ItakemyallieswhereverIcanfindthem.’‘Whatdoyouevenneedherfor?Eldarareweak.There’sareasonwebroketheirbacksintheGreat
Crusade,eh?’Noneofussawhermove.Evenwithourheightenedsenses,Nefertariwasthatfast.Thewhiptook
Lheoraroundthethroat,coilingwithalashingcrackandpullinghimfromhisfeetinasharpjerk.Onemomenthestoodbeforeme.Thenexthewasonhishandsandkneesbeforemythrone.‘Alien...witch...’hebreathed,strugglingtorisebacktohisfeet.Ilookedather.‘Thatwasunnecessary,Nefertari.’Shewalkedforwards,hersculptedarmourplatingnothumminglikeImperialpowerarmour,butpurring
withthesofter,exoticfalse-musclesofxenostechnology.Herheadwasbarethatnight,showingherporcelainfeatureslinedwithunhealthilystarkveins,andframedbyatumbleofhairthesameshadeasnightitself.Shewasbeautifulthewayastatuecanbebeautiful,revoltingthewayallaliensarerevolting.Herreplycameinherheavilyaccentedeldardialect,allclippededgesandclicksofhertongue.‘Idonotlikethisone.Ihavewatchedhim.Ihavetoleratedhim.AndnowIwanttotastehispain.’IwatchedforanysignLheorunderstoodherlanguagebutsawnoflickerofcomprehensioninhiseyes.
Hewasalreadyshiveringwiththepainofhiscerebralimplantsfloodingadrenalinethroughhisbloodstream.Lookingintohismindwasliketryingtoseebeneathanocean’ssurface.Histhoughtswereshroudedbyartificiallyheightenedrage.‘Holdyourground,’Isaidtohim.‘Witch,’hecursedher.Butheobeyed.Irespectedhimevenmoreinthatmoment.Toresisthiskilling
urgeshowedincredibleself-control.Perhapsitwasnothingmorethansurvivalinstinct,knowingIcouldkillhimbeforeheeventouchedthealien,butIchosetobelieveotherwise.Withagrowl,Lheorpulledthecoiledwhipfromaroundhisthroatandtosseditontothedeck.‘Whydoyoukeepthatcreaturebyyourside?’‘Becausesheismybloodward.’Whichwastrue,butnotthewholetruth.‘Sheisafilthyalienbornofadyingbreed.Thedaughterofadeadempire.’
Thedaughterofadeadempire.Thatwaspoetic,foroneofLheor’sLegion.Nefertarispokeinheralientongueoncemore,replyingtoLheor’swords.Shecalledhimablindfool
enslavedtoahatefuldeitythatgrewfatonmindlessviolenceinflictedbystupid,ignorantsouls.Shesaidhewasthecorruptlegacyofadeludedemperor’sdreamtocreatetheperfectbeing,onlytorealisetheendresultwasamillionidiotchildrencladinthearmourofgodlings.Shesaidshesawthedeathofsanityinhismutilatedbrain,knowingthatonedaytherewouldbenothingleftofhimbeyondadroolinghuskscreaminginblood-soakedworshiptoanuncaringgod.ShecalledhimtheexcrementthatrunsthroughtheprimalguttersoftheDarkCity,wheremutantsandmonstersemptythesludgeoftheirpoisonedbowels.Thiswentonforalmostaminute.WhenNefertarifinallyfellsilent,Lheorlookedbackatme.‘Whatdidshejustsay?’‘Shesaidshewassorryforstrikingyou.’Lheorlookedatusbothonceagain,confusionetcheduponhisfeatures.Hissuddenlaughterrangout
acrossthecommanddecklikeagunshot.‘Fine,then.Letherstay.Justtellmewhyshe’shere.’HemeanttheGreatEye,nottheTlaloc.‘She’sin
moredangerthananyofherrace,thisclosetotheYoungestGod.’Sheansweredforherself.‘Iamherebecausethisistheoneplacewheremykindredwillneverfollow.’‘Soyou’reguiltyofsomething,eh?Someheinoussininyourpast?’‘Youwillneverknow.’Andwiththosewords,againstallexpectation,shesmiledwithsilken,unlovely
beauty.Strangely,theonewarrioraboardthattookdeepestpleasureinNefertari’scompanywasUgrivian,
Lheor’ssergeant.Heandmybloodwardduelledforhourseachonboarddawn,matchingchainaxeagainstcrystal-clawedgauntlets,aswellaswhateverotherweaponscaughttheireyesthatparticularday.Ioftenwatchedthem,satonmetalcratesofammunitionwithGyreatmyside,enjoyingtheviciousnessoftheirrunningbattles.Theirfightswerealwaystofirstblood.Nefertariheldback–ifshehadnot,thenUgrivianwouldnever
havesurvivedthefirstduel–butwhatinterestedmemostwasthattheWorldEaterseemedtoberestraininghimself,aswell.Hewasusinghernotjusttotesthisskillsbuttotesthisabilitytomasterthecranialbiteofimplantsforeverspikinghisaggression.Hedidn’tregardtheButcher’sNailsasaflawtobeovercome,fortheyfloodedhisbloodstreamwithpleasureandstrengthwheneverhewentintobattle.YetnorwashecontenttosimplylettheNailsinfluencehismindunchecked.Ugrivian,unlikemanyofhisbrethren,approachedtheimplantsfromamorephilosophicalstandpoint,seekingtounderstandtheperfectpointbetweenhowtheyalteredhisphysiologyovertime,againstthenotionthathewaseffectivelycontrolledbythem.Where,heaskedme,wastheborderbetweenneurologicalenhancementandthedepletionofhispersonalityinfavourofwar-lust?Iwascaptivatedbythefactheevenaskedthequestion.Suchintrospectionwasn’tuncommonamongthe
warrior-scholarsoftheLegionesAstartes,butitrarelyfoundrootintheXIILegion.DuringUgrivian’sduelswithNefertari,inmomentsofhighestemotionandboilingadrenaline,theair
shimmeredaroundthemwiththethreatofunformedspirits,weaklingNeverbornfeedingfromtheirfeelingswithoutquitegainingthestrengthtomanifest.SeeingthoseshadesoutofthecornerofyoureyeswasmerelypartoflifeintheEye,butNefertariandtheWorldEaterdrewmorespiritualattentionthanmostofus.Suchcreaturesavoidedme.Gyre’spresencesawtothat.TheNeverbornsensedanapexpredatorinher
andnevermanifestedtoonear,nomatterhowbrightmysoulfireburned.TheSyntagmawasmorethancapableofpurgingourdecksofthedaemonsthatsoughttoclaimthelivesofmycrew,andourlong-roaminghuntsthroughtheTlaloc’sbowelssawtotherest.
Inthepast,Nefertari,GyreandIhadhuntedwithDjedhorandMekhari.NowLheorjoinedusoverthecourseofthejourneytotheEleusinianVeil.TheNeverbornweencounteredwereendemicoflifeintheEye,andalwaysofamorepowerfulbreedthantheweaklingsspawnedfrommomentaryactsofemotion.Theseweredaemonsbornfromthereflectionofaknifethatclaimedadozenlives,orthesorrowofanentiremutantbloodlinedevastatedbydisease.Whereversufferingisrife,theNeverbornwillappear.NoshipintheEye,nomatterhowwellitisrun,isfreeofsuchhauntings.Mostwarbandsencouragethem.Itisafinewaytomakestrong,Eyebornallies,oraddgloriousdeedstoawarband’srollofhonour.Oneofourhuntsresultedincorneringaparticularlyrancidcreatureoffatty,infectedflesh,attachedto
thewallsinoneofthewaste-reprocessingchambers.Itwasgluedbysweatandstickyskintothehalf-meltedwalls,quiveringinraptureasitfeasteduponthepainofanearbymutantclanravagedbyplague.Thetribe’sfunerarypriestsweredumpingthebodiesoftheirplague-slainkinintothewastegrinder-filterengines,moronicallyspreadingthediseaseevenfurtherthroughtheirsubdistrict.AfterIexecutedtheclan-lordsfornotincineratingtheirdeadastraditiondemanded,wemovedontofacethedaemontheirignorancehadcreated.Theshiveringmassoffleshclunghighupontheveined,warpedwall.Itsmanyeyesmovedacrossits
bonelessbodylikedriftingsunspots.Mouthsformedfromthefleshybulk,clackingtogethermalformedteethinmimicryofspeech.ThethingwasthesizeofaLandRaider.‘Staybackfromit,’Iwarnedtheothers.Itrecognisedme.Atleast,itrecognisedwhatIwascapableof,foritgreetedmewithapulseof
bloated,lazyfear.Itwastoowellfedtoevenflee.Sorcerer,itsent.Itssilentvoicewassicklyandgreasy.Iwillserve.Yes,yes.Iwillserve.Donot
breakme,Ibeg.No,no.Bindme.Iwillserve.Itriedtoconsiderwhatthisamoebiccreaturewascapableof.Whatpossibleusecoulditbetome?It
couldalterrealitylikeanyofitskind,andperhapsbetterthanmanyofthem.ButIcoulddothatmyself,andIheldmyboundNeverborntoexactingstandards.Ididnotcollectthematrandomlikeanamelessarmy.Ipreferredtopursuelesscommonandmoreesotericexamples.Iwillserve,thethinginsisted.Ihaveyettomeetadaemonworthyofbindingthatactuallywishestobebound.Onlytheweakestof
yourkindgivetheirfreedomawaytoavoiddestruction.ButIwillserve!Itstrainedtoprojectsomevitalityintoitsqueasyvoice.Iwillserve!‘Youwantmetoshootit?’askedLheor,lookingupatthething.Hewasdeaftoitspsychicpromises.‘No,thankyou.’Ireachedoutwithmysenses,grippingitsbubbling,gelatinousedgesinaninvisible
grip.Thedaemonreneweditsquivering.Severalorificesopenedonitsfront,vomitingblacksludgeassomekindofdefencemechanism.Theoozesloppedontothedecksomewayaheadofus.Weweren’tfoolishenoughtostanddirectlybeneathit.No!itsquealed,desperatelyporcine.Master!Ibeg!Ipulled.Thethingcamefreewithadisgustingsoundofsuction,leavingabloodysmearinitswake.Its
entireundersidewasspeckledwithopeningandclosingsphincters,seekingtogripontosomething,anything.‘Uglybastard,’Lheornoted.Hewasn’twrong.‘Nefertari,’Isaid.‘Thisoneisyours.’ShecastanamusedsmirkatLheorbeforeleapingup,takingtotheairwithasinglebeatofherwings.
She’dseenthecreaturevomitingitspoisonbileandknewtobecareful.Ididn’tneedtowarnher.Mybloodwardwasablackspearcastfrommyhand,shootingskywardswithawildcry.Suchwasher
speedthatallIsawofherweaponswasaflashofredfromtheextendingcrystalclaws.
Sheleapthighandstruck.Itwasthatfast.Withthesoundofrippingleather,thebloatedcreaturefellintwopieces,itsfinalpsychicshriekechoinginmymindasthebisecteddaemondissolvedonthedeck,meltingawayintoapuddleofdiseasedslime.Nefertari’swingsbeatabreezeinthethickairasshefloatedthere,avalakyrspiritabovethe
battlefield.Wetfoulnessdrippedfromhercrystaltalons.Hermaneofblackhairstirredinthesoftwindofherwings.Shewasdivineinthatmoment,despiteheraliencoldness.Ialwayslovedhermostwhenshekilledforme.Onward,wehunted.Notwodaemonswereeverwhollyalike,norweretheyuniformlymalign.One
tooktheformofarobedpeddler,itsskinbandaged,movingfromtribetotribeinthebowelsoftheshipinitsquesttoendthelivesofthemortallywoundedandterminallyill.Thethingwouldappearinacrewman’slastmoments,offeringtobreatheinthevictim’spainfullastbreathsandallowthesoultopasspeacefullyintothewarp.Gyredestroyedthatone–itcalleditselftheBoneCollector–afterabriefbattle.Itdiedastrangling
deathwithitsthroatinherjaws,andthebandagesunravelledtorevealadesiccatedhumanoidwithamouthlessfaceoneachsideofitshead.SuchwaslifeontheTlaloc.Andthentherewastheprisoner.
Ashur-KaihadtakenseveraloftheEmperor’sChildrenalivewhentheyboardedusontheedgeofthestorm,andahandfulwerestillalive–thosewehadnotfedtoNefertaritoletherfeastontheirtorment.Butonlyonewas‘theprisoner’.Wekepthiminisolation,boundinsilver-threadedchainsathisanklesandwrists,forcedtokneelwhile
leashedtothewallbehindhim.FourofmyRubricaestoodagainsttheoppositewall,theirbolterslevelledathishead.I’dleftthemherewithorderstoopenfireifourcaptivestruggledorsoughttoburnawayfreewithhisacidicsaliva.ThefirstthingIfeltfromTelemachonwasthecrunchingacheofcrampsinhisthighmuscles.Ahuman
wouldbeinwailingtearsatthecripplingpain,buthemetmewithagrin.ThesecondthingIfeltwashisamusement.‘Atlast,’hesaidinhismellifluousvoice.‘Youcometospeakwithme.Andyoubrought...her.’Nefertari’sdark,slantedeyesglintedwiththecoldmirththatfailedtograceherlips.‘Greetings,’shesaidtohim.‘Slave-childoftheGoddessThatThirsts.’Telemachonshowedwhiteteethinthemeltedruinofhisface.Hewasplainlyamusedattheeldar
race’sbeliefthattheYoungestGodwasactuallyaGoddess.Hishandsomeeyesneverleftthealienmaiden.‘Myangel.Mylovelyangel,youknownothingofwhatyouspeak.You’vespentalifetimerunningfrom
theYoungestGod.Buthelovesyou,sweetling.Headoresyouandallofyourkind.Icanhearhimsingeachtimeyoubreathe.Andoneday,whenyouleaveyourfleshbehind,youwillbehis.Aconcubineofspiritandshadow,claimedbyyourtrueloveatlast.’IfNefertarifeltanyunease,sheshowednoneofit.Ruthlesslysmootharmourjointspurredsoftlyasshe
crouchedbeforetheprisoner,hertoo-whiteskinamatch–atleastinshade–forthestretchedwhitemessofhis.Grey-blackwingsshivered,stirringtheairinsidethemodestchamber.‘Wewerelikeyouonce,’shetoldhim.‘Idoubtthat,lovelyone.’‘Butwewere.Wewereslavestosensation.Weknewnopleasurebeyonddecadencethatrakedour
nervestothelimitsandbeyond.’Shesoundedgentle,thoughcondescensionripenedherweakaura.
Telemachonclosedhiseyes,breathinginherbreath,drinkinghereveryexhalation.Beingnearherwasrapture.‘Letmetouchyou,’hesaid,shuddering.‘Justletmetouchyouonce.’‘Youwouldlikethat,wouldn’tyou?’Shemadetostrokehercrystal-clawedfingertipdownthesideof
hisface,butnocontactcame.Theglassytalontiphoveredacentimetreabovetheprisoner’stormentedflesh.Hestrainedagainsthisbindings,achingtoleanforwardssoNefertarimightlaceratehisface.‘Icansmellyoursoul,eldar.’Hewastremblingnow.‘TheYoungestGodshrieksforit,cryingfrom
behindtheveil.’Sheleanedevencloser,closeenoughthatIcouldbarelyhearherwhisper.‘ThenlettheGoddessshriek.
Iamnotreadytodie.’‘Youliveindefianceofhishunger,lovelyangel...Letmetasteyou.Letmebleedyou.Letmekillyou.
Please.Please.Please.’Nefertariroseinasilkenmotion,pacingbacktome.‘Yourplanwillwork,’shesaid,notevenlooking
backattheshiveringTelemachon.Composuresnappedbackacrosstheprisoner’sfeatures,buttheairwaspregnantwithhisthwarted
need.Hedidn’tjusthungerforNefertari,heyearnedforher.Thestrengthofhisdeniedcravingsemanatedfromhiminaqueasyhalo.‘Whatplan?’heasked.IcrouchedbeforehimjustasNefertarihad,andthistimetherewasnogentlerustleoffeatheredwings
butaservo-bornsnarlofancientarmourjoints.‘WereyouatLupercalios?’Iaskedhim.Hegrinnedwithwhatremainedofhismouth.‘Thousandsuponthousandsdescendeduponthe
Monument–warriorsfrommyLegion,fromyours,fromallNine.EvenwarbandsfromtheSonsofHorusturnedontheirkindredwhenitcametostrikingthefinalblow.’‘WereyouatLupercalios?’Iaskedagain.‘Iwas.Andthepickingsweredeliciouslyripe,Ipromiseyouthat.’‘YoutookHorus’sbody.Tellmewhy.’‘Thathadnothingtodowithme.ThatwasLordFabiusandhislaboratoryilk,rantingaboutthepromise
ofcloning.Mywarbandgoesnowhereneartheirdomain,andwesharenoneoftheirpassionforgeneticperversion.’Alltrue,sofar.Honestyradiatedfromhissensation-bleachedbrain.Onemorequestion,though.The
onethatreallymattered.‘WhydidyouabandonmyforcesonTerra?’Thesmilebecameawet,burblingchuckle.‘Thatoldwoundstillhasn’thealed,“brother”?’Hadit?Ibelievedithad.Noburningcravingforrevengedroveme,Imerelywantedtoknowwhyit
hadhappened.Justthat,andnothingmore.WeretheEmperor’sChildrentrulysolosttotheirhungerforsensationeventhen?HadtheysacrificedthebattleattheEmperor’sPalacepurelytoslaketheirsicklustsontheundefendedpopulation?‘Yourbattlecompanywassupposedtosupportmine,’Isaid.‘Whenyouleftuswithoutreinforcement,I
lostthirty-threementoBloodAngelsgunsintheHallofCelestialReflection.’Againthegrin.‘Wehadotherobjectives.TherewasmoretoTerrathantheImperialPalace,mydear
Tizcan.Somuchmore.Allthatflesh,allthatblood.Allthosescreams.LookhowmanyslavestheThirdLegionbroughtwiththemintotheEye’stides.Ourholdswerefullofman-flesh,andourforesighthasserveduswellintheyearssince.’Isaidnothing.
‘Andwhatdidthosethirty-threedeathsevenmatter?’Telemachonpressed.‘They’dhavefallentoAhriman’sCurseahandfulofyearslater,anyway.Theyweredeadmenwalking,whethermyforcesaidedyouornot.Atleasttheydiedfighting,ratherthantoatraitor’sblackmagic.’Istillsaidnothing.Iwasn’tlookingathim,Iwaslookingwithinhim.‘NobodyclingstothepastlikeaTizcan.’Whenhesaidthosewords,theycarriedtheresonanceofold
slang.‘Youaremistakingmyintent,’Ifinallysaid.‘ImerelywishedtolookyouintheeyeswhileItoldyouof
mybrothers.’‘Why?’‘Toseethetruthofyourheart,Telemachon,andtojudgeyoubyit.Ifyouweretrulywithoutremorseat
yourLegion’sactions,thenyouwouldearnexecution.’Ireachedtotapthebattleaxeboundtomyback.‘Ifyouhadlookedintomyeyeswithoutanyshame,thenIwouldtakeyourruinedheadwiththisstolenweapon.’Hissharplaughwasclosertoasnarl.‘Killme,then.’‘HaveyouforgottenthatIcanreadtheliesbehindyoureyes,sonofFulgrim?Iwillnotexecuteyou.I
willremakeyou.’Againthemeltedgrin.‘Iwouldkeepmutilationhonestlyearnedoverthehealingtouchofasorcerer.’IwatchedhimthroughtheArt,seeingnotfleshandbonebuttheinterconnectedcartographyofnerveand
sensationinhismind.TheunseentouchoftheYoungestGodwasvisiblenow,showingitselfintheneuralcobweboffeelingsandemotionswithinhisbrainmeat.Whatheenjoyed.Whathecouldnolongerenjoy.Howeverysensoryexperiencewaswiredintoitsownrevelationofpleasure.Howrenderingsomeonehelplessbeforehimwasenoughtoleavehisfingerstremblingwithrapture.Howanenemy’sfinalbreathwasthesweetestscent,andbloodfromafoe’sfinalheartbeatwasthefinestwine.Iwatchedhisbrain’ssynapsesfireandfade,eachoneabeaconguidingmealongthepathwaysofhow
hismindworked.AtlastIclosedmyeyes.WhenIopenedthemagainIwaslookingathimwithmyfirstsense,notmy
sixth.Myglovedfingersrestedupontheruinofhisfacewithdeceitfulgentleness.Hegruntedatthefirst
whipcrackofpainbehindhiseyes.‘Idon’twantyourhealing,Khayon.’‘IdidnotsayIwasgoingtohealyou,Telemachon.IsaidIwasgoingtoremakeyou.’Nefertaricrouchednexttome,herfeatheredwingsfoldingtighttoherbody,smellingofnightitself.She
wantedtobeclose.Shewantedtotastewhatwascomingnext.Iclosedmyeyesagain,andwiththeprisoner’snervoussystemasmycanvas,Ibegantoredrawthe
cartographyofhislife.Heneverscreamed,Iwillgranthimthat.Heneverscreamed.
WEBWAY
ReachingtheEleusinianVeilmeantpassingthroughtheRadiantWorlds.OnlyafoolwouldtakehisshipdirectlyintothemandfacethedestructivewavesofthephenomenonwecalledtheFiretide,butfortunatelytherewasanotherpossibility.Wewouldnotsailthroughthatregionofpsychicflame.Wewouldcutpastit.Todosowewouldneedtodriftintothewebway.Kingdomsfall.Empiresdie.Itisthewayofthings.Wenowlookuponthedecliningeldarasoneofthe
galaxy’smostancientspecies,yettheywerenothingmorethanslavechildrentotheFirstRace,knowntousnowastheOldOnes.OftheOldOnes,weknowalmostnothing.Theirbloodwascold,theirskinscaled,andallelseremains
mythandmystery.Theirambition,influenceandpowerarebeyondthemindsofanyonestillliving.Allweknowforcertainisthattheyunderstoodthenatureofthewarpmillenniabeforemostspecieswereevenborn,andknewitsthreatbetterthananyofuscancomprehendevennow.WecallittheunderworldandtheSeaofSouls,butthisisignoranthumanpoetrygraftedontocold
metaphysicaltruth.TheempyreanismadeofsoulsthewaytextsfromtheDarkAgeofTechnologytelluswaterismadeofthreeatoms:oneofoxygenandtwoofhydrogen.Aetheria,ectoplasma,thefifthelement.Callitwhatyouwill,wearespeakingoftheverymaterial
substanceofsouls.Thewarpisnotarealmwheresoulsgotodwell.Itisarealmmadeentirelyfromsoul-matter.Soulsdonotexistwithinthewarp–theyarethewarp.TheOldOnesknewthis.Theyknewitandroseaboveitsdamningtouchwiththecreationofamethod
ofgalactictravelthatbypassedanyneedtosailthroughtheunderworld.EvenmyfatherMagnustheRedknewlittleofit,andnamedittheLabyrinthineDimension.Tothoseofusawareofitsexistencenow,includingtheeldar,whostillmakegreatuseofit,itismorecommonlycalledthewebway.Behindrealityandunrealityalike,thisdimensionofhiddenavenuesstretchesacrossourgalaxy.Onone
planetitmaybenothingmorethanaportalthatopensononelandmassandleadstoanother,largeenoughforonemantopassthrough.Elsewhere,inthedarknesswherenostarsshine,entireeldarfleetsandcraftworldssailthroughitsunseenreaches.HereiswherehundredsofthousandsofotherwisedoomedeldartookshelterfromtheYoungestGod’sgenesisandthedeathoftheirempire.Commorragh,theDarkCityofNefertari’sbirth,isthegreatestalienportwithinitsdepths,butnottheonlyone.Timeandendlesswarhavenotbeenkindtothewebway.Daemonsfloodwholeregionsofitsmaze-like
passages,andwhatwasonceagalaxy-spanningconstructofinconceivablevisionisnowahollowshellofitsformermajesty.Somuchofitissilent,coldandforgotten.Therestislargelyunmappedbyhumanhands,anditsbilliongatesgounnoticedbyhumansenses.Itisnotarealmforourkind.ThoseofusintheEmpireoftheEyeseemoreofitslegacythananyImperial.Itexistswithinourrealm
justasstoneruinsofbygonecivilisationsmaylingeronanyprimitiveImperialworld.Entrancesintothebrokenlabyrinthexistjustoutofsight,orshowattheedgesofourperceptions.Ondaemon-claimedworldsandindeepEyespacealike,thoseofuswithkeenenoughsenseswillfeeltheseholesinourwarpedreality.Sometimesitissomethingasshadow-shroudedanddarklymajesticasariftinspace–vastenoughtoallowawholefleetthrough–showingthetenebrousimageofanalienplanetscapesuspendedinnothingness.Otherportalsareassimpleandsmallasanarchedwraithbonedoorway,buriedbeneathaplanet’ssurface.Thereisnounitytothewebway’sentrancesandexits.Asyouwouldexpect,mostofthewebway’spathwaysinsidetheGreatEye’sbordersareworthlessand
shatteredfromtheYoungestGod’sdevastatingbirth-scream.Functionalorbroken,mostofthosethatremainarefloodedwithNeverbornseekingawaydeeperintorealspace,hungeringforthebloodandsoulsonofferaboardeldarcraftworlds.Onlyararefewareconsideredviableavenuesthroughourpurgatorialdomain,andeventheselostroutesarerarelysailed.Somearesimplyunnecessary–itisacrumblingremnantofanetwork,afterall–offeringpassagefromnowhereofrelevancetonowhereofuse.Thosethatstillfunctioncleanly–thetrulyusefulpathways–aresomeoftheEye’smostunquestionably
valuablesecrets.IndividualsamongtheNineLegionswhomanagetocompileevenfragmentarymapsofworthwhilewebwayportalscannameanypricefortheirknowledge,andhundredsofwarbandswillwillinglypay.IlearnedoftheAvernusBreachalmostacenturybefore,andthepriceofthatknowledgewassixyears
ofservicetoanVIIILegionwarbandledbyawarriornamedDhar’lethRul.MyservicesalwayscameatahighpriceinMechanicumartefact-automatons,butcertainotheroffersweretooprecioustopassup.SixyearsofbindingdaemonsanddestroyingDhar’leth’senemies.SixyearsofmyRubricaeservingin
brutalraidsagainstotherwarships,alltolearnthelocationofasinglereliablewebwaypath.Itwasworthit.Inowknewofseveraldozenstill-functionalthoroughfareswithintheEye,andwhileI
doubtedIhadthemostcompletemapofanywarrioramongtheNineLegions,whatIdidpossesswasvaluablebeyondreckoning.Thereisnoartificialmarkerorancientgatedenotingmostentrancestothewebway.WetooktheTlaloc
toaregionofspacethatseemednodifferentfromtherestoftheEye’schaotictides,driftingthroughthechromosphereofacooling,dyingwhitesun.There,intheshadowcastbytheworld’spulsingcore,wesailedfromtheEyeinto...Elsewhere.Blacknessenvelopedus.Theocculusshowednottheblackofthedeepvoid,buttheblackof
colourless,starlessnothing.WhenIreachedbeyondthehull,Isensedonlyemptyendlessness.ItwasasensationI’dnotfeltanywhereelseinthegalaxy.Evendeepspacethrummedwiththehalf-aliveresidueofstarbirthandthequietthoughtsofdistantmortals.Thiswastheantithesisoflife,ofmatter,ofanythingatall.Wesailedoutsiderealityandunrealityalike.Theenginesflaredhot,propellingusthroughabsoluteblackness.Wefeltbecalmed,goingnowhereat
all.TheAnamnesisassuredustheTlalocwassailingahead,andwithoursensesshroudedandourinstrumentsmute,itwasherwordagainsttheevidenceofoureyes.Thebridgecrewwereunsettled,withtempersflaringandbloodbeingshedbetweenmutantsand
humansoverinsignificantdisagreements.Thesecreatureswereusedtolivinginanightmarewheredaemonsmightpreyuponthemwithoutwarning,buttheOldOnes’brokenwebwaywastoomuchfortheirsensestoeasilyendure.Theabsolutenothingnessofthissectionwassensorydeprivationonaship-widescale.WhenIslept,Ididnotdreamofwolves.Idreamedofnothingatall,wakingafteracoupleofhourseachtimenomorerestedthanIhadbeenbefore.‘Wasitlikethisthelasttimeyousailedthrough?’askedTelemachon.Hishandsomefacemask,repaired
bymyarmamentpriests,shonepolishedsilverinthepalelightofthecommanddeck.Hehadahabitofrestinghisgauntletedhandsonthepommelsofthetwoswordssheathedathiships.Theseheworeslunglow,almostlikeavainhumangunslinger–aposturingfactthatsurprisednoneofus.Ikeptstaringoutattheinfiniteblackness.‘Exactlythesame.ThisistheonlystretchofthewebwayI
haveeverseenthatistruly,whollyempty.’‘What’sintheothers?’‘Death,’Nefertariansweredforme,fromwhereshestoodbymythrone.‘Thingsthatbrokefreefrom
otherrealmsandrealities.ThingseventheNeverbornfear.’Telemachon,whostoodcasuallyonthedais’sstairs,kepthisgazeontheocculus.Hisvoicewas
contemplative.‘I’veneverseentheRadiantWorlds.Arethestoriestrue?’‘Therearemanystories,’saidNefertari.‘Thetruthdependsonwhichtalesyoulistento.’‘Howfoolishofmetoexpectastraightansweronthisship.’Nefertari’sreplywasasoftlaugh.Telemachon’shungerforherwasstillapalpablething,anaurathat
invisiblystainedtheairaroundhim.Hewasimaginingthesaltyrichnessofherbloodonhistongue,andthethoughtmadehimshiver.‘Eldarblooddoesnottasteofsalt,’Isaidtohim.Hegrowledbehindthefacemask,thoughthegentilityofhisvoicemadeitsoundclosertoamurderous
purr.‘Idon’tlikeyoureadingmythoughts,’hetoldme.‘Whatashame.Iamsureyouwillgetusedtoit.’Nefertari,whowasmuchlessimpressedthanusbytheendlessblackondisplay,smiledatourpetty
bickering.‘IamgoingtoduelUgrivian,’sheannouncedassheleftthedais.Telemachonwatchedherleave,andin
turnGyrewatchedTelemachon.Iwanther,cametheswordsman’swish,asclearasifhe’dspokenitaloud.Hedidnotsendthewords
tome,buthismurderousdesirewasfierceenoughthatIcouldn’thelpbutsensehisthoughts.Gyreheardthemaswell.Mywolf’sgrowlwasatruer,lowersnarlthanthatwhichhadleftthe
swordsman’sthroat.Telemachonturnedhishelmtofacethedaemon,staringatherwithsilver-featuredserenity.‘Silence,dog.Nooneaskedyouropinion.’Oneofthebridgecrew,abestialmutantfromSortiarius’sclan-herds,approachedmewiththerequisite
threebows.Theslave’sheadwasathingofelongated,equinegoatishness,andnotmadeforcarefulspeech.Withhislolling,spottedtongueandtheshapeofhisjaws,hecouldn’tshowhisdisapprovalwithanyhumanexpression.Instead,hegaveagruntingbray,andshooksalivafromhisdistendedmaw.‘LordKhayon.’Thewordslefthisferalfacewithasoundsomewherebetweenagoat’sbrayandan
ursinesnarl.Astringystalactiteofsalivaropeddownfromhischin,spatteringontothedeck.Igesturedpermission.‘Speak.’‘HowlongintheDark?’Hisvoicewasasnarlthroughcrooked,spit-wetteeth.Isatforwards,castingabriefglanceoverattheplatformwheretheusualgatheringofraggedhumans,
servitorsandbeast-mutantsporedoverthescanningconsoles.Theywerewatchingusbothwithunusualfocus,slippingglancesourway.Thesilent,endlessblackwasunnervingthem.Icouldfeeltheirunease,notquiterichenoughtobefear.‘TrusttheAnamnesis,Tzah’q.’Thecreatureloweredhishornedheadinsubmission.Hewascladinpiecemealarmourofflak-plate
overprimitivechainmail,aclashofwargearlootedfromanofficeroftheImperialGuardandtatteredIronEraprotectionforthetribalduelsfoughtbyourslavecasteintheship’sbowels.ThemutantcarriednosidearmasaNavalofficerwould;insteadabatteredlasriflewithanaimingspotlightwasslungoveroneshoulder.Morethanonebridgethrallhadfeltthecrunchofthatriflebuttinthefaceoverthedecades.Tzah’qwasaneffectiveenforcerandveteranoverseer.Thegreyfurofhisfaceandclawedhandswasfrostedwithevermorewhite,yearafteryear.Hewasasworriedastheothersbutshowednosignofhisfears.Bestialeyesglaredattherestofthecrewwiththesameanimalchallengeasever.Myreliableoverseer.‘TrustintheQueenofGhosts.Hnnh.Atruetruth.’TheQueenofGhosts.Thebeast-mutantherdshadthemostentertainingbeliefs.Theirkindwasbarred
fromsettingfootintheCore,andtothemtheAnamnesiswasthegoddessoftheship,alwaystobeobeyedandappeasedthroughworship.Whentheyfoughtinthepits,theywouldsacrificetheheartsoftheirenemiestoher.Onnightsgivenovertotheirtribalrituals,theysometimessacrificedtheiryoung.‘Trusther,’Irepeated.‘Trust,yes,but...’Gyregrowledathisdefiance.Tzah’qbaredhisteethrightbackather.Ceasethat,bothofyou.Tzah’qbowedthetraditionalthreetimesandturnedaway.Severaloftheothercrewstillcasttheir
furtiveglancestowardsus.Iclearedmythroattocatchthemutant’sattention.‘WhydoIsensethis...unease...inyourthoughts,oldone?’Tzah’qhesitated,flinchingasifstruck.‘Inotknow,LordKhayon.’‘Comehere.’Hewalkedbacktome,iron-shodhoovesclankingonthedeck.‘Yourwish,LordKhayon?’‘Lookatme,Tzah’q.’Moreheadswerebeginningtoturntowardsusnow,somesibilanthungerspicingtheirthoughts.
Curious,curious.FewslavesevermadedirecteyecontactwitheitherAshur-Kaiormyself,andTzah’qwasnodifferent
despitehisrankabovetheothers.Themutantliftedhismonstroushead,cautiouslyregardingmewithbulbousblackeyes,oneofwhichwashiddenbeneaththeplasteklensofatargetingmonocle.Hisbladedhornsofdirtyivorygavehimenoughheighttostandastallasme,hadIbeenoutofmythrone.There.Thesourceofhisrecentunrest:awispywhitenessjustbeginningintheblackorbofhisright
eye.Acataractforming.‘Yourvisionisfadingwithage,Tzah’q.Isitnot?’Hebaredhistombstoneteethinaninstinctivegrowl,notatmebutattherestofthecommanddeck.An
unsubtletideofmockingviciousnessdriftedfromthenearestmutants.Severalofthemshowedtheirteethinamusedsnarlsoftheirown.Attendtoyourduties,Isentintothemindofeverylivingbeingonthebridge.Thepsychiccompulsion
overloadedthelimitedmindsofseveralservitors,whoeitherstoodslacklybytheirconsoles,orslouchedandgroanedwordlesslyintheirdutycradles,inneedofatech-adept’sministrations.TherewouldsoonbeanotherlecturefromAshur-Kaiaboutmycarelessuseofpower.Tzah’qturnedbacktome,histhoughtsflickeringwithimagesofbleedingfurandknivesinthedark.I
hadshamedhimwithmywords,givingvoicetohisweaknessbeforemanyoftheverycreatureshewouldfightintheclan-warriorpits.Giventhenumbersofhiskindredwhohadenduredtheiroverseer’sbeatingsovertheyears,manywouldnowstrikebackintheaftermathofthispublicshaming.Hesnappedhisbestialjawsindefiance,carefulnottospithisangertowardsme.Sortiariusbredloyal,
cunningslaves.Iorderedhimtohisknees.Backwards-jointedlegsmadethetaskatrial,andhisoldbonesdidn’thelp.
Thisclosetohim,itwasmucheasiertoseethehundredsofscarscrisscrossinghisfurinlineswherethehairgrewbackalightershade.Woundsonforearms,biceps,chest,throat,face,hands...allonthefront.Tzah’qalwaysfacedhisenemies.ThatwasacrudecouragethatLheorwouldadmire,Iwassure.Sealingandsalvingwoundsisnoeffortatall.Youmerelyencouragethefleshtoperformitsnatural
function–scabsform,scarshealclosed,andsoon.Buttoreversetime’serosionoffleshandbloodandbone?ThattakesmoreskillintheArtthanmanywillevermaster.Imperialrejuvenattreatmentsmixchemicalloreandsurgicalexpertise,butstilldonotreachtheArt’s
heights.Theyonlyemulateitslessereffects.Physiciansandhaematorswillengineersimplegeneticdeception,throughclonedflesh,synthesisedblood,orextractingthesubject’sownbloodandalteringitsnaturethroughtechniquesofreplenishmentandenrichment.Thewarpaloneallowstheremakingoffleshitself.Butyoumusttrustit,onceyoubreatheitintothe
bloodstream.Itsmutagenictouchisnotalwaysaskindasonehopes.AsIhavesaidbefore,intheGreatEyeweallwearoursinsonourskin.MyglovedfingertipsbrushedTzah’q’sforehead.Ihadnoneedtotouchhim,buttheslavecaste
requirescertaintheatrics.Andaswithanydisplayofauthority,thetrickliesinmakingpowerseemeffortlesstothosewhoserve.‘Rise,’Isaidamomentlater,withdrawingmytouch.‘Riseandreturntoyourduties.’Heopenedhisbulbouseyes.Bothblack.Bothclean,clearblack.Onegoatisheartwitched.Hebrayed
beneathhisrancidbreath,justlikethebeastthatmadeupmuchofhisgeneticcore.‘Grateful,LordKhayon.’‘Iknow.Go.’Hewasfartoousefultoloseinasimplefightamonghistribe.Hiskindredbackedawayfromhis
approachorhunchedovertheirconsoles,threatenedbyhissuddenvigourandtheauraofmyfavour.Evenhisfurwasdarker,thefrostingofwhitedarkenedbacktogrey.Oneofthetaller,strongermalesriskedabarkingbrayatTzah’q’sreturn,andwasrewardedwithariflebutttothecheek.Heloweredhishornsinsubmissionandtookhisbloodyfacebacktohisduties.Achallengethatwouldwaitforanothernight.‘Awakenthevox-linktothetertiarycrewdistrict.’‘Awakening,’saidtheAnamnesisoverthebridge-widespeakers.Atthesoundofhervoice,severalof
thebeast-mutantsrituallytouchedtalismansofboneordriedskinonthecordsaroundtheirfurredthroats.‘Failing,’shesaid.‘Failing.Failing.Failed.’NoreplyfromFalkusandhisbrethren.Butofcourse.Ileanedbackinthethroneofredironandsculptedbone,watchingtheocculusrevealtheendless
offeringofnothingness.Atmyfeet,Gyresnarledsoftly,herwhiteeyeswatchingasIstrokedtheunpoweredbladeofmyforceaxe.Whatareyouthinking,Gyre?NoNeverbornhaseverreturnedunscathedfromtheRadiantWorlds.Herwordsmademesmile.Wewillsailpastthem,youhavemyword.HerpearlygazedriftedfromtheaxetothecobaltarmourIwore.Yoursoulfireburnsbrighter,master.I
seetheaxemeltinginyourfists,andyourarmourcharredblack.IranmyglovedthumbalongSaern’sedge,soothedbythesmoothscrapingsound.Atthetime,I
believedherwordswerenothingmorethantheinhumanvicissitudesofhowsheperceivedtheworldaroundher.Unabletoseemundanedetail,foreverstaringatcreationwithadaemon’stwistedsenses,seeingsignificanceinallthings,deservingorotherwise.
Shewasstilllookingatme.YoursoulfirewillsoonburnbrightenoughtomaketheNeverbornkneel.YousoundlikeTokugra.Mywolfsnappedherjawsatmyteasingmockery.Laughallyouwish,master.ButIseeyouin
scorchedarmour,kneelingbeforeanother.‘Iamdonewithkneeling,’Isaidthewordsaloud,feelingthemslipfrommylipsandregrettingthe
lapseasbestialheadsturnedtomefromacrossthedeck.TheEmperorisdeadandmyfatherisdamned.AndIwillneverkneelagain.Sodefiant.Socertain.Soignorant.Theprideofthosewhohavenothingworthfightingfor.
WhenweemergedfromthenothingnessoftheAvernusBreach,wesailedstraightintoaskyfulloffire.Onemomenttherewasstillnessandemptydarkness,thenextwewereglidingthroughEyespaceasthevoidburnedwithgoldenlight.Brightnessscoreditselfacrossmyretinasinablurofpain.Mutantsandhumansalikerecoiledfromthesuddenacidiclight.We’dplungedbackoutofthewebwayintoaregionoftheEyescorchedbytheEmperor’sAstronomican.‘Closetheocculus!’Ashur-Kaicalleddownfromhisobservationplatform.Thelayeredarmourplating
spiralledclosedovertheviewscreenbeforeanyofthecrewcouldobey.‘Occulussealed,’saidtheAnamnesisacrossthebridgevox.Wehadseveralsecondsofrespite,before
theshiplurchedbeneathus,brutallyenoughtohurlhalfofthestrategium’screwtothedeck.Lheorcrasheddownthecentraldais’sstairs,smashingintoapackofhelplessservitorsandbreakingtheGodsaloneknewhowmanyoftheslaves’bones.Telemachonhaddrawnbothblades,keepinghisbalanceonlybyplungingthemintothefloortogripandkeepsteady.TheFiretide?Ashur-Kaipulsedtomeashepickedhimselfupoffthedeck.‘Collision,’crackledtheAnamnesisinaspurtofcorruptvox.‘Hulltemperatureincreasing.’Shields!Isenttoher,toeveryoneonthecommanddeck.Shields!‘Voidshieldssomnolent.Hulltemperatureincreasing.’TheTlalocgaveanothersavageheave,throwingmoreofusfromourfeetinatideofceramiteandflesh
againstthedurasteeldeck.Thunderechoedthroughtheship.‘Collision,’theAnamnesissaidagain,stillutterlycalm.‘Hulltemperatureincreasing.’Theshipstartedtoroll,sendingbodiesskiddingalongthedeckasthegraviticstabilisersfoughttokeep
up.TheTlalocgroanedinanunwelcomesingsongofstrainingmetalbones.TheAstronomicanistearingusapart!Ashur-Kai’ssendingwasasdesperateasI’deverheardhim.Itcannotbe.WearepasttheFiretide.Ireachedoutsidetheship,castingmysensesfarandwide.Ithurt,forpushingmymindintothepsychic
firewasnodifferentfromplungingyourhandintoboilingwater.PasttheshriekingsongoftheEternalChoirringingwithinmyskullwasaferalconsciousness,vastandinhuman,drowninginmadnessandpainandpanic.ItclungtotheTlaloc,holdingontousasitdissolvedintheEmperor’sLight.Tormentprojectedinastreamfromaminddrowninginliquidagony.THELIGHTTHEFIRETHEBURNINGTHEFIRETHELIGHTBLINDTHEBURNINGTheshipgaveanotherheave,sendingyetmorecrewtothedeck.Alarmshowledacrossthebridgeas
hololithicdamagereportsstreamedacrossmyretinaldisplay.Itwasn’tjusthullstrainnow–wholesectionsofthespinalbattlementswerebeingbrokenaway.Whateverwasoutthere,itwasbreakingtheTlaloc’sback.Somethinghasusinitsgrip,IsenttotheAnamnesis.Killit.That’swhenthethingroared.Ifitsgriphadshakentheship,itsroarsentviolentshudderscoursing
througheveryiotaoftheTlaloc’sbones,burstingthecrew’seardrumsacrossthelowerdeckswherethecreature’scryechoedloudest.AmorefamiliartremorburieditselfintheshakingastheAnamnesisfiredthebroadsidesonbothsides
ofthehull.Entireweapondecksspattheirangerintothegoldenvoid.Freshpainflavouredthecreature’ssilentscreams,anditsdraconicroarrangoutagain,loudenoughtoshatterseveralconsolemonitors.‘Hulltemperatureincreasing,’theAnamnesissaidwithinfuriatingcalm.Killit,Itzara!‘Secondcannonadealreadypriming.Firingnow.’Theocculusresolvedintoanimageofburning,dissolvingfleshwrappingthebattlementsinaliving
shroud.Pinkishskinmeltingingoldenfire,millionsofholesopeninglikepitsofstretchingsludgeasthebrightfireateitalive.Eventhroughtheshakingoftheshipcomingapart,Iwasgettingabettersenseofthecreature.
Somethingvast,somedaemon-dragonorvoidserpent,latchedontothehullinferalmadness,clingingandcrushingusasitdiedintheAstronomican’slight.Doubtlessithadbeenfleeingforthewebway,hittingtheTlalocjustasweemergedbackintoEyespace.Initsdeath-panic,itgrippedusasitssalvation.Ireachedforitsmindoncemore...THELIGHTTHEFIRETHELIGHT...andIpushedatitsconsciousness,shatteringthroughitswhirlingthoughtstoitsbrokenbrain.The
Astronomican’slight,harmlesstohumanfleshandcoldiron,wasincineratingtheNeverborn.Itwasalmosttooeasyto...THELIGHTTHEPAINTHEFIRE...breakitsdyingmindapart.Nodifferentfromputtingdownawoundedanimal.Noonecouldhave
conqueredthethingifitwasunwounded,butsavagedbytheTlaloc’sgunsandmeltinginpsychicfire...Ihelditsmindinmyhands,andevenasitwasalreadydying,Icrushed.ItburstacrosstheTlaloc’sshatteredbattlements,blastingtheshipwithhissinggobbetsofviscera,
whichstilldissolvedinthegold-drenchedvoid.OnefinalshiverrockedtheTlaloc.Thenallwasstill.Thesuddensilencewasalmostdeafening.Slowly,theshiprighteditself.Thecrewregainedtheirfeet
intheaftermath.Ittookseveralsecondsfortheomnipresentthrumoftheenginestofilterbackintomysenses.Telemachonalonehadn’tlosthisbalance.Hemadenoefforttohelpmerise.Insteadhesheathedhis
swords,turninghisserenegazeontheocculus.Outsideinthegold-mistedvoid,allseemedcalm.WehademergedintheRadiantWorlds,pasttheFiretidewheretheAstronomicanburnedstrongestandbrightest.Ibreathedeasierinthestillness.Gyrewalkedbacktomyside–shehadbeensafelyhiddeninthe
shadowsduringthecollisions.Master,shesent.Mywolf.‘Anamnesis,damagereport.’‘Extensive,’theAnamnesisrepliedatonce.‘Processing.’Automatedinkstylusesonseveralconsoles
begantoscratchoutthespecificsoftheTlaloc’sinjuriesonreamsofdirtyparchment.Themachine-spirit’smindatwork.Lheor,whowasoverseeingseveralslavesattheauspexconsole,begantostudytheprintedlore.Ihadnodoubttherewasafaster-updatedstreamofinformationplayingacrosshiseyelensesatthesametime,buthewasamanwhocravedsimplicity.Men,womenandmutantsshuffledbacktotheirposts.Telemachonwaslookingpastme,overmy
shoulder.‘Khayon,’hesaidgently,gesturingwithagauntletedhand.‘Isthatoneofyours?’
Iturnedtowherehepointed.There,satinplacidsplendouronmythrone,wastheghostofamurderedgod.Thegod’sfacewascoveredbyamaskofshininggold,itsfeatureswrenchedintoarictusofcrying
torment.Theexpression–eyesopen,mouthwide,eventhepartedteethshowingindetailedgold–wasaman’sdeath-screamimmortalisedinholymetal.Bladedsunraysflaredfromtheedgesofthemetalface,formingacrestofgoldenknives.Therestofhismanifestationexistedincontrasttothedarkostentationofhissacredhelm.Hewasthin,
cadaverouslyso,andwearingaplaintogaofimperialwhite.Hisskindidn’tcommittopalenessorduskiness–itseemedacaramelblendofboth,perhapsbornfromgenetics,perhapsstainedbythelightofanaturalsun.I’dseencarvingsofhimoncavewalls,scrawledbyprimitivemenandwomenawaitingthecomingof
theEmperor.TheMasterofMankindinhisskeletal,ritualformastheSunGod,theSolarPriest.‘Menoffleshandbloodandbone,sailingwherefireandmadnessmeet.’Whenhespoke,condescensionlacedthewords,burningbeneaththegentility.Yetforallitsstrength,it
wasahesitantvoice.Herewasacreatureunaccustomedtospeech,confusedbyitsnuances.Thespiritregardedus,anditsgazefelllastofalluponme.‘Astainliesuponyoursoul.Ablightthatfeignslifeasawolf.’‘Sheisawolf,’Ireplied.‘Andsheisnoblight.’‘Iwillremoveitstouchifyoudesire.’Gyrebaredherblackteethatthespindlyrevenantandsnappedherjawsonce.Ghost.Touchmeand
die.Thethingspokeagaininitsunpleasantlyinhumantones.‘Aparasitecladinthefleshofthebeast,
sucklingattheshadowsofyoursoul.Blight.Taint.Sacrilege.’Gyrethrewbackherheadandhowled,issuingachallengebetweenthetwospirits.Iranmyfingers
throughherdarkfur.Staybackfromit.Yes,master.‘Andyou,spirit,willnottouchmywolf.’Thewraithlypriestextendedbone-thinfingers,gesturingtotheothersgatheringaroundmythrone.‘So
beit.Whyareyouhere,menoffleshandbloodandbone?’‘Becausewechoosetobe,’Ireplied.Behindus,Tzah’qwasoneofseveralmutantssnarlingandbrayingattheenthronedfigure.Apackof
themwerecryingoutinpainastheytookupdefensivepositions.Whateverthisthingwas,itspresencewashurtingthem.Holdyourfire,Isenttothem,honestlyunsureiftheywouldobey.‘Nameyourself,’saidTelemachon.Hehadn’tdrawnhisswordsashefacedthethingonmythrone.The
questionmadeithesitateoncemore.Itseemedtostrugglewitheverythingweasked,asthoughwespokeanunfamiliartongue.‘IamwhatremainsoftheSongofSalvation.’Thespiritwasbreathing,whichwasarareandfalse
gestureoflifeamongincarnatedcreatures.Withineachinhalation,Iheardtheroaroffarawayfire.Everyexhalationresonatedwiththemutedsoundsofdistantscreams.‘Getoffourship,’Lheorsaid,‘whateveryouare.’Hisheavybolterwasbackinhisarmingchamber,
buthehadhisaxereadyinhishands.TheSolarPriestlinkedhisthinfingersinhislap.‘OnceyouwereHiswill,renderedinironandflesh,
sentforthtobringthegalaxytoheel.IamHiswillrenderedinsilentlight,sentforthtoguideabillion
vesselshome.IamwhatremainsoftheEmperornowthatHisbodyisdeadandHismindisdying.Itisadeaththatmaytakeaneternity,butitwillcome.AndthenIwillfallsilentwithHisfinalthought.’Icouldfeeltheachesufferedbythemutantsandhumancrew,now.TheSolarPriest’snearnessmade
mysinusesthrob.Icouldfeelmynosebeginningtobleed.‘YouaretheAstronomican,’Isaid.Thegoldenmasktiltedinanod.‘Istareintoeternityandwitnessthedanceofdaemons.Isingforever
intotheendlessnight,addingmymelodytotheGreatGame.IamImperious,theAvataroftheAstronomican.Ihavecometoaskyoutoturnback.’
ASTRONOMICAN
AnysailorwithinthevoidknowsoftheAstronomican,theso-calledRayofHope.ItisthepsychiclightbywhichmillionsofNavigatormutantsfromgene-forgedbloodlinesguidetheirvesselsthroughthetumultuouswarp.WithouttheAstronomican,thereisnoImperium.Lesscommonlyknownisitssource.TheImperiumatlargebelievesthebeaconisbornoftheEmperor
Himself,butHeonlydirectsthepower.Hedoesnotproduceit.BeneaththeImperialPalace,whereathousandsoulsareshackledandsacrificedeverydaytothegrindingmachineryoftheEmperor’slife-engine,theAstronomicanisprojectedthroughtheHellbehindreality.Apsychicscreamechoingthroughthenight,givingmankindalighttosailby.Wecanseethatlight.ThoseofuswithintheEmpireoftheEyecanactuallyseeit.TheAstronomican
reacheseventoourpurgatorialexile,andtousitisnomeremysticalradianceilluminatingthewarp.Itispain,itisfire,anditplungesentireNeverbornworldsintowar.ItwouldbeamistaketobelievetheEmperor’spowerbattlestheFourGods’forces,here.Itisnot
orderagainstchaos,noranythingascrudeas‘good’against‘evil’.Itisallpsychicenergy,crashingtogetherinvolatiletorment.MostoftheRadiantWorldsareuninhabitable,lostinthelethalcrashofconflictingpsychicenergies.
Armiesoffireangelsandflame-wroughtprojectionswagewaragainsteverythingintheirpath.WecallthisregiontheFiretide.WhatmadetheAvernusBreachsovaluablewasitspath,notitsdestination.ItcutthroughthesystemsforeverbleachedbareoflifebytheFiretide,andintothecalmerRadiantWorldsbeyond.Thesearethestarsystemsbathedinpsychiclightwithoutburninginit.Entirecenturieswillpasswithoutasinglevesselsailingtheregion,foritofferslittletousbeyondyet
anotherexampleofsoulenergiesmanifestinginwaysmortalscanbarelycontrol.OnmorethanoneoccasiontheMechanicumhassoughttouseNeverbornspiritsboundwithinarcaneflesh-machinerytorecordtheRadiantWorldsinanever-shifting,evolvingmap.Suchattemptshavefaredaspoorlyasyoumightimagine.ThecreaturecallingitselfImperiouswasanotherfacetoftheAstronomican’spower.Anunconscious
surgeofpsychicmightmanifestnotaslight,orflame,oranavengingangel–justaholymanonapilgrimageofhisown.AghoulrisenfromtheEmperor’srestlessdreams.Iconfess,itsgentlenessunnervedme.Ihadexpectedrageandflame,notthisoddechoofhumanity.‘Whyhaveyoucome?’thecreatureasked.‘WhysailinthewindsoftheEmperor’schorus?Thereis
nothingforyouhere.Yoursoulsfeedonconquestandthirstforblood.Thereisnothingtoconquerwithinthesetides.Thereisnothingthatcanbleed.’Acrossthestrategium,themutantsandhumancrewwerestillrecoiling,cowering,cryingoutinthe
wakeoftheavatar’swords.Tzah’qstoodwithapackofseveralofhisbridgeenforcers,theirantiquatedlasriflesaimedattheghostuponmythrone.Isawbloodrunningfromhisears.Hehuffedbloodymucusontothedeckfromhisbestialsnout,yettherifleneverlowered.LookingthroughTzah’q’ssensesrevealedthesourceofhiswounds.Hesawaninsubstantialauraof
ripplinglight,thewaythesunreflectsfromthesurfaceoftheocean.InsteadoftheSolarPriest’svoice,heheardthescreamsofsacrificialpsykersbeingfedtotheEmperor’ssoulengine.Iwilldealwiththiscreature,Ipulsedtotheoverseer.Holdyourpositions.‘Youareharmingmycrew,’IsaidtotheSolarPriest.‘Thesemortalscannotunderstandyourwords,
andyourpowerwoundsthem.’‘IhavecomeastheVoice,notastheWarlord.Harmisnotmyintent.’ItcarriednoweaponsandIsensednohatredwithinitsmind.Itfeltnothingforusbeyondpassionless
interest.Wewerecuriositiestoit,mereflickersofinsubstantiallifeforce.Itsgoldenmaskturnedinaslowarc,regardingeveryoneofusbeforereplying.‘WhatbringsyouintotheEmperor’slight,hereontheshoresofHell?’‘Aprophecy,’saidLheor.‘Loyalty,’Icorrectedhim.Imperiousstrokeditsfingersacrossmythrone’sarmrests,watchinguswithatormentedmetalface.The
thing’svoicegrewsoftandreverent.‘Myplaceistoaskyoutoturnback,andsoIaskitoncemore.’Welookedateachother,wewarriorsfromahandfulofrivalLegions,notunderstandingthespirit’s
words.‘Why?’askedTelemachon.HisfacemaskwasavisageofserenityopposingtheSolarPriest’simageof
wrackingpain.‘Whatthreatarewetoyou?’‘Youarenothreattome,forIamsimplyabridgeintheSong.YouareathreattotheSinger.’‘Andifwedon’tturnback?’Lheorasked.‘ThentheSong’snextversewillbefireandfury,notwisdomandmercy.Itwillcome–notnow,not
soon,butintimeandinforce.TheFateyouseektoengineercannotbeallowedtocometopass.’Ashur-Kai’sinterestrippledoverme,feelingalmostfeverishinhisfascination.Itknowsthefuture,Khayon.Thiscreatureisavesselfortrueforesight.Itmustbebound!YoucannotbindashardoftheEmperor’spower.Wemusttry!Untilthatmoment,Ihadneverworriedaboutmyformermaster’swaningpower.Hehadalways
hungeredforeveryscrapofpropheticinsighthecouldclutchtohischest,butthatwasthefirsttimeIbegantodoubthisownabilitiestoseethroughthemistsofpotentialfutures.Hehadfailedtowarnmeoftheambushinthestorm’sheart,butIhadnotpaidmuchheedtothatflaw.Prophecyisanunreliableart,andeventhosewhoclaimtowitnessthefuturecannotagreeonthepathofeventsleadingtoit.Withhissuddendesperation,thatfailurewasasudden,sharperdoubt.Hisownfarseeingwasgrowingevermoreerraticandrareinrecentyears.Washegrowingweakeras
timepassedintheEmpireoftheEye?Coulditbethathesoughtacrutchtobolsterhisownfadingpowers?Wedrewcloser,handsfindingholsteredweaponsinthechilloftheSolarPriest’sclaims.Telemachon
stoodatmyleftshoulder,Lheoratmyright,whileGyreprowledlowtothedeck,herearsflattenedtohercanineskull.Theenthronedspectrewasdistracted,enrapturedbysomethingnoneofuscouldseeorhear.‘EachofyouhasaverseandachorusintheSong,sungfromthethroatsoftheEmperor’sChoir.
Warningsofrising,ofawakening,ofmurderandfireamongthestars.Isthiswhoyouwouldbe?These
instrumentsofdestruction?TheDamnationofMankind?’‘Mankindhasalreadyforgottenwhoweare,’saidTelemachon.‘We’reexiles.Justtalestofrighten
childrenintobehaving.’‘Iaskyoutoturnback,’theSolarPriestrepeated.Itsgoldenfacewassmearedwithreflectedlightfrom
thebridge’sredillume-globes.‘Thatwillnotbehappening,’Ireplied.Weapons,mybrothers.Telemachonheftedhisbolterratherthandrawinghisswords,Itcrunchedtohisshoulder-guardashe
tookaim.Lheor’schainaxegaveaquickwhine.Saern’sfamiliarweightwasinmyhand.Stopthisaggression!Ashur-Kaipulsed.Thisisacreatureofprophecy.Wemustbindit.Wemust
learnfromit.IrritationfloodedmewiththeweightofyetanotherdemandthatIheedanunwrittenfutureinsteadof
claimingthefreedomtomakemyownchoices.Ashur-Kai.Sargon.Nowthisrevenant.Thisismyship,Ashur-Kai.Idonotheedthewhimsofghosts.No?Hisbitternesswasalmostaplea.Justthewhimsofdaemonsandaliens.IremembertheSolarPriest’seyes,aboveallelse.Astarethatshouldhavebeenlifelesslymetallic
conveyedawealthofemotionincoldgold.Itwasscared.Scaredofus.Truly,ithadcomeinaharmlessguiseonlytobemetwithmurder.ThiswasnoincarnationoftheEmperor’smight.Itwasnothingmorethanthedesperatelastgaspofadyingman.Thepsychicsouphadformedacruel,cowardlyministertospeakontheEmperor’sbehalf.‘Youwoulddestroyusifyoucould,’Ichallengedit,‘butwearepasttheFiretide.Allyoucandoishurl
burningNeverbornagainstthehull,resortingtobeggingwhenthatfails.Nowyouappealtoourmorality?Youarepreachingtemperancetothewrongaudience,shade.Whyshouldweturnback?Whatawaitsushere?Whatisityouseektostopusdoing?’Inaslowrippleofrobes,thespiritrosefrommycommandseat.TelemachonandIheldourweapons
tighterinreadiness.Lheor’spistolkickedwitharesoundingboom,barelyahalf-metrefrommyrightear.Thebolttooktherevenantinthechest,blastingstainedclothandvisceraagainstmythrone.No!cameAshur-Kai’ssilentvoicefromhisobservationbalconyaboveus.Youbloodthirstywretch!‘Sitbackdown,’Lheorsnarledatthespectre.TheSolarPriestdidn’tfalldespitetheholebustopenin
itschest.Atremorshowedinitsthinfingers.Veinsgrewdarkbeneaththeskinofitsarms.Themetalofitsfacebegantotarnishandcorrode,ageingbeforeoureyes.‘Youarethedeathofempires,’thespirittoldusasitrottedonitsfeet.‘Youwillbetheendofthe
Imperium.Isthiswhatyouwantedforyourselveswhenyoufirstlookeduptothenightskyaschildrenonyourhomeworlds?’Itpointedwithahandthatdrippedrankfluidfrombeneathblackeningfingernails.Thepristinewhite
robesweresoiledbybloodandexcrement,thestainsappearinginslowspreads.Crackscobwebbedacrossthegoldface.‘TheendoftheImperium,’saidTelemachon,musing.Lheorsnorted.‘Alittletheatricalformytastes,butithasapleasantring.’TheSolarPriestwasdownonhishandsandknees,givenovertotherotthatravagedit.Abone
snappedinhisthinforearmwithsharp,drysplintering,castinghimtothedeckinaraggedheap.Thereekofdecaycurledaroundus.Telemachonwalkedtothedyingfigure,restingabootonitsback.‘Myfateismyown,littleghost,andIhavenoloveofprophecy.’Thatmayhavebeenthefirstthinghe
andIeveragreedon.Hekickedthedecayingpriestintheside,forcingtheapparitiontorollontoitsback.Icouldfeelthethinnessofhisanger–theemotionwaspresent,butstarvedofpassion.Oncehewouldhaveenjoyedthisabuse,feelingtherushofdominatinganotherbeing,butthatpleasurewasjustoneof
manythatIhadstolenfromhim.Hecouldfeellittlenow,unlessIallowedit.Nofinerwaytocollarhimthantocontrolthesensationshelivedfor.Ashur-Kaireachedusatlast,fallingtohiskneesbeforethediminishingghost.Hisredeyeswerestill
wateringfromtheAstronomican’slight,beforewesealedtheocculus.‘Areyoucrying,albino?’Lheorlaughed.‘Fools,’theWhiteSeerwhispered.‘Todestroyathingofsuchimport...AmanifestationoftheEmperor
Himself...Fools,allofyou.’TheSolarPriestcouldn’tspeak.Whitemistwispedfromhisopenmetalmouth.Oneofthecracks
acrosshischeeksplitopen,sheddinghalfofthemask’sfaceplateandrevealingaskinlessfacebeneath.Thethingsoughttostandagainonshaking,stick-thinlegs.Telemachon’sbootdroveitbackdowntothedeck.Ashur-Kailookedravaged.ThelookhegaveLheorwasharrowedenoughthatIthoughthewoulddrag
theWorldEater’ssoulfromhisbodyrightthere.‘Fools,’hesaidagain,softeryetfiercer.TheSolarPriestcollapsed,comingapartthewaysandfallsthroughloosefingers.Whereithadstood
layafluid-soakedrobeandaspreadofashacrossthedeck.Nearbymutantscoughedonthedeadghost’sdust.Noneofussaidanything.Haditbeenaweakling’swarning?Aspirit’sprophecy?Orjustanotherfigure
ofincarnatedmadnessamongtheEye’stides?ItwasGyrethatansweredmyunspokenthoughts.Shepaddedclosertomeaswestaredatthespirit’s
remains.Yoursoulfireburnsbrighterdaybyday,master.TheNeverbornknowyourname,andmorelearnit
eachtimeyoudrawbreath.Somethingishappening.Achangecomes.This...priest...retreatedfromusbutItwillcomeagain.Iknowthis.Ipromiseit.Ibelieveyou,Gyre.IlookedtoAshur-Kai.‘Brother?’Hewascrouched,brushinghishandthroughtheashesbyourboots.‘TheAstronomicanisweakhere,
Khayon.Evenprojectingitsimagemusthaverequiredimmenseforce.Andoutofspite,yousilenceditwithasingleshotfiredinignorance.’‘Ithaddelivereditswarning,’Ireplied.Takingeithersidefeltpetty.IhadnotorderedLheortofire,yet
nordidIholdthedeadcreatureinthesamereverenceastheWhiteProphet.Bothofmybrothersweretryingmypatience–Lheorwithhisunreliableaggression,Ashur-Kaiwithhisstubbornmartyrdom.Thefightwentoutofhimashesiftedthroughtheashes.‘Thisdustwillbeaninvaluablereagentinmy
ritualwork.Iwillharvestit,withyourpermission.’Ilookedatmyformermentor,kneelinginthepricelessdustofadeadavatar.Icouldsensehisfuryat
me,thatI’dbeenpartytothedestructionofaspiritpotentiallygiftedwithprophecy.Worse,Icouldsensehissorrow.‘Itsremainsareyours,’Itoldhim.‘Usethemwell.’Hedidnotanswer.‘Andifyoucanfindoutwhyitcamebeforeus...’Ashur-Kaisighed.‘Ifyouhadn’tkilledit,perhapswewouldalreadyknowtheanswer.’‘Ididnotkillit,Ashur-Kai.’‘Youwereacaptainonce,Sekhandur.Youknowthefirstlawofleadership.Ifyoutakethecreditwhen
thingsgoright,bepreparedtotaketheblamewhentheygowrong.’Ithoughtsomethinginmyexpressionormyauramusthavediscomfitedhim,forupondeliveringthat
lecture,hiswhitefeaturesfrozeinastare.OnlywhenIlookedbehindmedidIrealisewhathadmadehim
uneasy.TelemachonandLheorhadremainednearby,theirweaponsstilldrawn,lookingdownwithmeattheWhiteSeer.Howdifferenttheshiphadbecomeinsuchashorttime.ItwasnolongerAshur-Kaiandmyself
overseeingthedutiesofslaves,thralls,weapon-priestsandmindlessRubricae.Othersstoodwithus–otherswiththeirownhearts,thoughtsandvisions.Theirownagendas,creatingconflicts.Balancewasalreadystrained,forwewereallleadersofmen.Ashur-Kailookedupatus,warriorsandcommandersfromthreeLegions,andnoddedatsomeunspokendecision.Sobeit,hesaidinsilence.Oureyesmetinthatmoment,myformermaster’sandmine,andhedidsomethinghehadneverdone
before.Withoutanotherword,hegentlyseveredthebondbetweenus,refusingthetouchofminds.
Wepassedworldsburnedcleanoflifeevendowntothemolecularlevel,annihilatedwhentheEyeofTerrorfirstopened.Wepassedworldswithoceansofboilingliquidgoldorcloudsofimpossiblefire-vapour.Wepassedworldswherecivilisationsofblindthingssensedourpassingandshriekedattheshipwithtenmillionweaklypsychicvoices.WepassedworldswheretheghostsofdeadeldarwagedeternalwaragainstwhatfewdaemonsmanifestedintheRadiantWorlds,aswellasagainstspiritsthatresembledmen,womenandSpaceMarinestwistedalmostbeyondrecognition.EveryplanetwasbleachedinthemanifestlightoftheAstronomicanaswellassufferingtheoppressivetouchoftheGreatEye.TheSolarPriest’smemoryhauntedme.Inmyidlehours,Iwouldfindmyselfdwellingonthespectre’s
wordsandmusingonitsintentions.EvenhereattheborderoftheRadiantWorlds,pastthecurlingreachesoftheFiretide,theAstronomican’slightwasfarfromweak.Haditbeenatrulypropheticvision?WasitanapparitionthatspokefortheEmperorandtheAstronomicanitself,orwasitsimplyanotherghost-flickerofpsychicwhim,forminganddisintegratingfromtheEye’sturmoilwithnobearingonanygreaterdestiny?Fewoftheotherssharedmyconcerns.‘Shutup,’LheorsaidtomeonthebridgewhenIaskedhim.‘What’swrongwithyou?Worryingabouta
thousandmattersoverwhichyouhavenocontrol.Whocareswhatitwas?It’sdeadnow.’Thiswasonthethirddayafterouremergencefromthewebway.Wewerelookingthroughtheocculus,
atthegold-mistedvoidahead.‘Lifeissosimpleforyou.Whatyoucankill,youkill.Anythreatsthatyoucannotovercome,yousimply
ignoreorrunfrom.’‘Wecallthat“survival”inmyLegion.’‘ButtheSolarPriest–’Hethrewuphishands.Wearyresignationshowedacrosshisbrutal,ruinedfeatures.‘Tellmewhyyou
care.’‘Becauseitfeelstomethattheconfrontationwasatest.Atestwefailed.’‘Whoistheretotestus,outhere?WhatwasityousaidtoFalkusbackaboardtheChosen?Welivein
theunderworld.Ghostsandvisionsoutnumberusbyahundredtoone.’Ihadn’tsaidthoseexactwordsbutthesentimentwastrue.Hewasright,justasIhadbeenrightwhen
I’dexpressedsimilarsentimentsbefore.‘Ifitcomesbacktotroubleus,’Lheorfinished,‘thenwe’llkillitagain.Howmanydaemonsandspirits
haveourwarbandsdealtwithovertheyears?You’resweatingbloodoverameaninglessspurtofpsychicenergy.Youshouldbemoreconcernedwiththefactwe’relost.’‘Wearenotlost,’Ireplied.‘WewillbethroughtheRadiantWorldsinafewmoredays,andontheedge
oftheEleusinianVeil.’
‘Whateveryousay,sorcerer.AnywordfromFalkus?’‘Heisstillunresponsiveoverthevox.’Iwasstillnottrulyworried.TheChangefrommortalto
Secondborncouldtakedays,weeks,months...AslongasFalkus’swarriorskepttheirpredationslimitedtoworthlessmembersofthecrew’sslavecaste,theywerefreetodoastheywishedwhileinthethroesofpossession.OntheoccasionsIhadreachedouttobrushagainstFalkus’ssenses,Imetaseethingwallofpoisonedmemorythathadnoplaceinahumanmind.Evenwithhiswillofiron,thebattleinhisbodywasnotyetover.‘Andwhere’syournewpet?’Lheorscratchedathisscarredfacewithdirtyfingers,thenspata
corrosivegobbetontothedeck.HediditnomatterhowmanytimesIaskedhimtostop.‘IdonotknowwhereTelemachonis.Ihavegivenhimtherunoftheship.’TheWorldEatergaveagutturalchuckle.‘I’mnotsurehistorywillrememberthatasawisedecision,
Khayon.Iwouldn’ttrustoneoftheThirdLegiontoburnevenifIsethimonfire.’‘IsaidthatsamesentimenttoSardarKadaluswhentheEmperor’sChildrenambushedus.Pleasedonot
repeatmyownwitticismsbackatme,Lheor.’Lheoronlygrinned,showingamouthfulofreinforcedbronzeteeth.IttookanotherstretchofdaystoreachtheEleusinianVeilitself.Thehellinwhichwemakeourhomeis
vast,withtidesandeddiesjustlikeanyocean,includingstormsofimpassableferocityandislandsofrelativecalm.Realityandunrealitymeethere,butneverbalance.Themostobviousmanifestationofthatimbalanceisthatit’salmostimpossibletosailafleetinoroutoftheEye’sbordersandhopetomaintainanycohesion.KeepingafleettogetherwhilesailinganywhereinsidetheEyewasalreadyatrialforevenskilledsorcerers,Navigators,orNeverborn.ButtoleavetheEye–tosailfromitsrestless,brutalborders–thattooktalentbeyondeasyreckoning.Thatiswhatmadeoursanctuarysoperfect.Wecouldnoteasilyleave,buttheImperiumhadnohopeofentering.Notthatitfearedus,ofcourse.TheImperiumofManscarcelyevenrecalledourexistencesatthatpointintime.Somerare,sereneregionsoftheEyearegivenovertocold,soul-achingsilence.Standingattheedgeof
theEleusinianVeilremindedmehowanentirespeciesdiedhere.WespentourexistencesnotonlysailingintheechooftheYoungestGod’sbirth,butthroughtheinterstellartombofanalienempire.TheVeilwasagreatred-blackdustcloudchokingseverallong-deadstarsystemsontheedgeofthe
Eye.Scansfailedtopenetratedeeplyandrevealednothingworthmining.Shipsthatwentin–fewastheywereoverthecenturies–rarelyreturned,andwhentheydidtheyrelayednothingworthreturningfor.WhatfewreportsIhadseendidnotevenmentionencounteringanyworlds.ItwaspossibletheyhadbeenswallowedwholewhentheYoungestGodwasborn.OurmonthsofsailinghadbroughtustotheVeil’sedge,andtheTlalocdriftedwithitsauspexscanners
castfarandwide.TheAnamnesisheardnothing,sensednothing,feltnothingfromwithintheshroud.‘Takeusin,’Iorderedthebridgecrew.TheTlalocenteredtheVeil,scanner-blindandshroudedindarkness.Wehadnodestination.Wehadno
truedirectionfromFalkus,norfromthefragmentarydescriptionsgivenbySargon.Wesimplysailedintothedustwithshieldsraisedandweaponsarmed.Nothingonthefirstday.Thesameonthesecond,thethird,thefourth,thefifth.Onthesixthday,we
driftedthroughanasteroidfieldthatwecouldscarcelysee.Itssizeanddensitywasamysterytous,untilAshur-KaiandIreachedforthwithoursensesandguidedtheshipasbestwecouldinthecloyingdark.Thiswasonceaworld,hesenttomeafterafewhours.Isensednoresonancethatsuggestedhewasright.Howcanyoubesure?Ifeltit,whenoneoftherockscrashedagainstthevoidshieldsamomentago.Ifelttheechoesof
life.Thisasteroidfieldwasonceaworld.
Whatkilledit?Whatshattereditintopieces?Weshallsee,won’twe?‘Gravityhaul,’calledoneoftheservitorsslavedtothehelm.Thepullofgravitymeantalargeastral
bodynearby.Theremnantsofthebrokenworld?Thelargestchunk?Mysuspicionsultimatelymeantlittle.Followingthegravityhaulwasimpossible,foritdraggedusthis
wayandthat,obeyingnonaturallaw,revealingnosource.Itwasasiftheplanet’sremainsweremoving,andtheasteroidfielddriftingwithit.‘Nowwe’relost,’Lheorremarkedafterthefirstweek.AllIcoulddowasnodinreply.OnthetenthdayIsurrenderedtotheneedforsleep,anddreamedasIalwaysdreamed–ofwolves
howlingthroughthestreetsofaburningcity.Butforthefirsttimeindecades,thedreammeltedawayfromoldmemoryintosomethingmore.I
dreamedofrain.Rainthatburnedmyskininpricklingstings.Rainfallingfromadirtymarblesky,downontoafrozenexpanseofglassywhiterock.Whentherainwashedovertheground,ithissedwithsteamasitbitintotheice.Whenitranovermylips,ittastedofengineoil.Whenitranintomyopeneyes,itatemysightinitchingbites,turningallIsawfromoccludedwhitetoclearestblack.Iwoke,runningfingertipsacrossmyclosedeyes.‘Didyoufeelthat?’Iaskedaloud.Fromacrosstheroom,mywolfgrowledinanswer.
‘Aas’ciaral,’Nefertarisaid,givingtheworlditseldarname.Telemachonchuckledatthat.Hespokemybloodward’salientongueaswellasIdid,thoughIhadnowishtoknowhowhehadlearnedit.Icouldseewhyhe’dlaughed.‘Heart’sSong’wasanametheplanetnolongerdeserved.Itsfacewas
cataractedbyturgidstormscoveringtheentireworldinmilkyclouds.Lightningwrackedtheoccludedskiesinrandomdances.Itisabeliefamongsomeofmymorespiritualbrethrenthatallworldshavesouls.Ifthatistrue,
Aas’ciaral’sspiritwasabitterandblightedthingthatwelcomednooutsiders.Itsmostdrasticwoundwasthesourceoftheasteroidfield,foranentirehalfoftheplanetwassimplygone.Suchhorrendousdamagetoanastralbodyshouldhavedestroyedtheworldcompletely,yetAas’ciaralstilllived,deformedasitdriftedthroughthevastashcloud.Abrokenworldunabletoseeitsownsun.Westoodbythecommandthrone,watchingthegrey-whiteworldontheocculus.Whatwasleftofthe
planetcouldnotexistanywhereelsebutintheGreatEye,wherethelawsofrealitywereenslavedtothewhimsofmortalminds.Ournakedeyestoldusnothingofwhatlayinwaitonitssurface.Ourscannerstoldusnothing.Asensorprobelaunchedintoitscurdledatmospheretoldus,asyoumightimagine,nothing.‘Whatofothershipsnearby?’Lheorasked.‘ThisistheEleusinianVeil,brother.Youcouldsailthroughthedustcloudforthreethousandyearsand
notseeathinguntilyoucollidedwithit.’Hegruntedindispleasure–asoundIwasbecomingusedto.‘Istherenowaytoreadplasmatracesin
theatmosphere,totellifanyvesselshavebeeninnear-orbit?’‘Thereisnowaytodoanythingofthekind,’saidAshur-Kai.‘Bettermindsthanyourshavealready
tried.’Iwatchedtheasteroids,whatfewofthemIcouldsee,hangingintheeternalgloom.Wewereinorbit
aroundamalformedworldwithathousandrockymoons.‘Itlookslikeahalf-eatenapple,’saidUgrivian.WhenIturnedtohimnonethewiser,heshrugged.‘An
appleisafruit.TheygrewonNuvir’sLanding.’
‘Whywouldanyonecomehere?’Lheorstruggledtoseetheworthinthisretreat,becauseitdidn’tmatchhisneeds.ThousandsofworldsintheEyewereinhabitedbyhordesofNeverbornwagingwaruponeachother,allpartoftheGreatGameoftheGods.Claimingaworldwasoftentheendgameofmanywarbands,andwhatbetterwaytospendeternitythanonaplanetyoucouldreshapetoyourowndesires?Aas’ciaralseemedahollowprize,nodoubtthere.‘Itissomewheretohide,’Isaid.Lheorspatontothedeck,stillnotconvinced.‘Andthesignaldefinitelycamefromhere?’‘Itwasnotasignal,’Ashur-Kaicorrectedhim.‘Thevision,then.’‘Whatanamusingsavageyouare.Asomnus-cryisanotavision.’IsawLheor’sauraflarewithirritation,butheotherwiseignoredthealbino.‘Khayon?’heasked.Ididn’tlookathimasIreplied.‘Itwasasomnolentastropathicreaching.’‘Well,’heforcedanastysmile.‘Thatanswerseverything.’Hewantedclarification,butlikesomanymanifestationsofthesixthsense,astropathyisalmost
impossibletodescribetothosewhohaveneverfeltitstouch.EvenmanyofthoseintheImperialInquisition–whomaybetheonlywitnessestothisarchive–knownexttonothingofthemyriaddisciplinespossiblewithintheArt.FewastropathsdirectlyserveintheHolyOrdos,andeventhepsychicallygiftedwarriorsandscholarsamongtheInquisitioncannotcommittothedecadesrequiredtolearnhowtospeakasastropathsspeak.Astropathyisarealmbeyondthesilentsendingsofimpulseandemotionthatpassbetweenmany
bondedpsykers.Whenastropathsondistantworlds‘speak’throughthewarp,theydonotsendwords,orevenlanguage.Theyarehopelesslyunabletomakeanyattemptatprecisecommunication.ThosetrainedintheArtknowthepointlessnessofeventryingsuchnuancedwork.Skilledastropathssendimpressionsoftheirownminds,projectedtemplatesofexperienceandtriggers
ofmemory.Itmightbeamoment’semotion,orhoursofsensoryrevelation.This,consciouslyorunconsciously,islittledifferentfromreachingwithone’ssenses,thoughitisinfinitelymoreexhausting.Considerthewayawhisperisnothing,butascreamleavesyoubreathless.Whatreachesareceptivemindisneverwhatthetransmittingsoulsent.Ifsendingandreceivingwere
allittooktoformsuchacommunion,theImperiumwouldbeavastlydifferentplace.Mostoftheskillinastropathyliesininterpretingthevisionsonereceives,andtracingthembacktothesource.Entireorbitalinstallationsaregivenovertoshackledpsykersleashedontosurgicaltableswithpensintheirtremblingfists,whiletheirmnemocrafteroverseersporeoverendlessreamsofparchmentpaperdarkenedbyscrawledvisions.ThesehubsoftheAdeptusAstraTelepathicamakesuchbeautifullyripetargetsforourcrusadinghosts.Nobetterwaytosilenceasystemthantocutitsthroatbeforeitcancryforhelp.Sendingthemessageistheeasierportionofthispsychicdiscipline.Interpretingthedreamsis
significantlymoredifficult.Whenissomethingagiftfromadistantmind,andwhenisitsimplyanaturalnightmare?Whenissomethingawarningofbloodtocome,andwhenisitamessagecenturieslate,onlyreachinganotherminddozensofdecadesafteritssenderislongdead?Ashur-Kaioncedreamedofacityofscreamingchildrenwhovomitedbackfoulnessintothestreets.
Suchvisionsarecommonenoughamongthoseofuslivinginthedaemon-hauntedEye,yetheheldontoit,believingittobeamessage.Andsoitwas:avisionfromthesorcerersamongtheChapteroftheOnyxMaw,aWordBearerswarbanddestroyedbyLheorandtheFifteenFangs.Thealbinohadheardtheirastropathicdeath-cry.Thesearetherealitieswedealwith.Onelearns,overtime,tosenseflavoursandsignifiersinthe
sendings.Tofeelifsomethingisrecent.Toknowifit’strue.Yetyoucanneverbewhollysure.Andifonedoesnotlearnsuchinsight?Manydonot.TheImperiumhasatenthousand-yearhistoryof
thosewholosttheirmindsandsoulstothethingswaitinginthewarp.‘Ibelieveitwasamessage,’IsaidtoLheor.‘Thatisthebluntestandtruestexplanation.’Hegrunted,whichwasn’tmuchofashowoftrust.‘Allowmetorephrase,’Iamended.‘Iknowitwasamessage.Itguidedushere,andthoughIcannotbe
certainofthemessage’ssource,thisistheworldinthesomnus-cry.’‘Thatstilltasteslike“maybe”.’Trustme.Heshookhishead,notindisagreementbutinrejectionofmetouchinghismind.Hislefteyebeganto
twitchclosed,inapainfultic.Howstrange.Asimplebrushofmymindagainsthishadstirredhiscranialimplantsintosomekindofirritation.Heneverlikedtobetouchedmindtomind,buttherewasanamplifyingfactoratplay,here.Wasittheworldbeneathus?‘Don’tdothat,’hesaid,andlickedbloodfromhisbleedinggums.Theairshiveredaroundhimaspain-
spiritsstrokedhisarmourinlovingcaresses,waitingtobeborn.‘Myapologies,brother.’Ilookedbackatthebrokenplanetontheocculusscreen.‘Isenselittleinthe
wayoflifeontheplanet,thoughthereisashredofsentience.’Ashur-Kai’ssilentvoicewasdrilyamused.Ashredofsentience.Firefistwillbeentirelyathome.Myreplywasjustasdry.YouareProsperinedignityincarnate.Nowletmefocus.‘Ashredofsentience...?’beganLheor.Ilookedathim.Hisdark,patchworkfacewasperfectlyserious–notstrugglingwiththeconcept,but
needingmoreclarification.IheardAshur-Kai’slaughterinmymind,butforallLheor’sbrutality,theWorldEaterwasnofool.I’dbeenjourneyingwithAshur-KaiandGyreforsolongthatitwaseasytoforgetthosewithmoremundaneperceptionsstruggledtoseethegalaxythesamewaywedid.Lheorhadnothingbuthiseyesandtheship’sscannerstorelyon.Nefertariwasthesame,butsherarelycaredenoughtoask.‘Whoeverorwhateversentthemessageisasubtlecreature.’‘Thenjustsaythat,’Ugrivian,standingnexttoLheor,shookhishead.‘Tizcanformalitygrowstiresome,
sorcerer.’‘Ishallbearthatinmind.’‘I’mcomingwithyou,’Lheorstated.I’dnotexpectedanythingelse.‘AsamI,’saidNefertari.Myalienmaidenwasstandingbythearmofmyemptythrone,runninga
whetstonealongtheedgeofherflensingknife.Theotherssharedglancesatmybloodward’sdeclaration.‘Youwillremainhere,’Itoldher.‘Thereisgraveatmosphericinstability,andIwouldneedtokeepyou
shieldedtheentiretime.Thisisamissionforvoid-suitsandsealedarmour.’Sheexhaledapurrthatdrippedwithdispleasure.‘Why?’Ithoughtbacktothedreammessage,withthehissingrainthatburnedmyskinandmilkedovermy
visionwithstingingpain.‘Itisrainingaciddownthere.’
VENGEFULSPIRIT
Ididnotwishtolandatrandom.SomethinghadcalledushereandImeanttofinditbeforemakingblindplanetfall.Ourattemptstovoxthroughthecloudcoverwentunanswered,asdidanypsychicreachingattemptedbyeithermyselforAshur-Kai.Wespenttwodaysandnightslookingforwheretoland.Thedreamwasnoaid,foritnevercameagain.Twodays.Andwewerefortunatetohavemanagediteventhatquickly.Gunshipsweepsandfighter
reconnaissanceacrosstheplanet’scontinentswereouronlyoptions,withtheatmospheretoodensetoallowforreliablescanning.Atfirstwefoundnothingbutlow-hangingstormcloudsanddead,frostedrock.Theworldseemedlockedatasinglepointintime,withthecloudsnevermovingon,andtheacidicrainneverdissolvingtheice-rimedground.Thesnowwouldhissandburnaway,onlytofreezeoveragainalmostatonce.Wewereanewelementtothatsupernaturalformula,andtheraincertainlyaffectedus.Ourfighters
returnedaftereveryexcursion,freshlyravagedfromtheacidstorms.Ourgunshipsfaredevenworse.Afteronesuchrun,ImetUgrivianonthedeckasheclambereddowntheladderfromaProsperineSun
Dagger’scockpit.Servitorsandhangarcrewworkedaroundusinamumblingstorm.‘Thisworldisatomb,sorcerer,’hesaid.Ifearedhewascorrect.Wesoughtanythingatall:asettlement,acity,adownedvessel,anythingthat
couldhavebeenthesourceoftheastropathiccry.Descendingbelowthecloudcovermadenodifferencetoourinstruments.Thetormentedworldwreakedhavoconeveryauspexsweep.Atlast,wefoundit.Oneoftheservitor-pilotedfightersdockedbackaboardtheTlaloc,exloading
grainypictcapturesofadownedship,halfburiedinthesnowatthebottomofadeepravine.Fromtheworthlessimagequality,therewasnowayoftellingwhatthevesselwas,norhowlongithadbeenthere.‘Togiveyouanexampleofscale,thatcanyoncouldhouseacityofnineortenmillionpeople.’Ashur-
Kaisaidthosewordsaswegatheredaroundthecommanddeck’scentralhololithictable,tryingtocoaxdetailfromthepoorqualityimages.Telemachonhadjoinedus,watchingwithdisinterest.Falkusandhisbrethrenwerestillsilent,shut
awayintheirsanctuary.‘I’llflythegunship,’Telemachonoffered.Youcan’ttrusthim,sentAshur-Kai.Heisminenow.ItrusthimasItrustyou.Letthatbetheendofit.Verywell.Iwillremainonthebridgeandbereadytoopenaconduitifnecessary.Noguarantees,
however.Psychiccontactwillbeunpredictableatbest.Theworldisaturgidmess.Everyoneknewwhattodo.Isentthemtotheirduties,andarrangedtomeetTelemachonandLheorat
thegunshipwithinthehour.Nefertarirefusedtoletmeleavewithoutafinaldemandtojoinme.Sheinterceptedmeinoneofthe
starboardmusteringhalls,soaringdownfromthehighgothicceilingofachamberlitonlybythedust-shroudedstarsoutsidetheobservationwindows.Shelandedwithapurrofarmourjoints,asgracefullyasahumanwoulddescendthefinalstairofa
staircase.Howshegainedthosewingswasataleinitself,forthoughshehadmasteredthem,shehadnotbeenbornwiththem.HerclosenessbroughttheblessedsilenceofamindIcouldn’teasilyread,andItreasuredherforthat.
Insideherheadwasanauraofcold,exoticsilenceratherthantherollingmurmursofmemoryandemotionthatmadeupthemindsoflivinghumans.Evenworsewastheyearning,whisperingvoidinthesoulsofallmyRubricae.Nefertari’smerepresencesoothedme,asitalwaysdid.‘Voscartha,’shegreetedmewithherkind’swordfor‘master’,thoughsheneveruseditwithasmile.
‘I’mcomingwithyou.’‘Notthistime.’‘Iamyourbloodward.’‘Thereisnothingintherecapableofharmingme,Nefertari.Mybloodneedsnowarding.’‘Andifyouarewrong?’‘ThenIwillkillwhateverliesinambush.’Irestedmyhandontheskin-boundcaseoftarotcards
chainedtomyhip.Shedidn’tnod,becausenoddingisahumangesture,butIsensedhergivein.‘Itisatimeofchange,’shesaid,andthewordsprickledmyspine.Shewasunknowinglyechoing
Gyre’swarningfrombefore.‘Whathaschanged?’‘Ihavebeenwatching.Watchingthewolf,watchingyournewbrothers.Watchingyou.Whyarewe
reallyhere,Khayon?WhybringustothisplaceontheGravebirth’sveryedge?’‘Isensethisisarhetoricalquestion.’Shetiltedherheadasshemetmystare.Nefertarihadthemostarrestingblackeyes.Despitetheiralien
slant,orperhapsbecauseofit,theyforeversuggestedmorethansheletleaveherlips.Ashur-KaioncetoldmethatIwasimaginingmystique,purelybecauseIcouldn’teasilyreadthealienmaiden’smind.Hewaseverdubiousofmybondwithmybloodward.‘Rhetorical,’shesaidinherknife-unsheathingvoice.‘Idonotknowthatword.’‘Itmeanstoaskaquestionwhenyoualreadyhavetheanswer,forthesakeofprovingapoint.’Asshepacedshestrokedhergauntletedfingersacrossthenearbywall.Theclawednailendingeach
fingerwasathingofbioluminescent,livingcrimsoncrystal.Theyscrapedalongthemetalwiththesoundofdistantscreeching.‘No.Thequestionwasnotrhetorical.Iwishtoknowwhywearehere.’‘TohelpFalkus.’‘Andwhydoesthatmattertoyou?Doyoualsoseekthewarshiphesought?TheArchtraitor’s
flagship?’‘ItwascalledtheVengefulSpirit.TheTlaloc’sentirecrewisatenthofwhataGlorianabattleship
wouldrequire.’Shesneeredatthename.‘Andisthatwhatliesatthebottomofthiscanyon?’‘Idonotknow,Nefertari.’Gyreprowledclosertotheeldarmaiden.Nefertariranherglovedfingersthroughthewolf’sfur,
whisperingforamomentinherserpentinetongue.Theyweremyclosestcompanions,yettheirnewfoundclosenessstillsetmyteethonedge.
‘Youarelyingtome,Iskandar,’shesaidsoftly.‘Notaboutwhatyouknow,butaboutwhywearehereandaboutwhatyouwant.Youwantthatship.’‘Itoldyou,Ihavenowayofcrewingit.’Herblack,blackeyesmetmine.‘Butyoudo,foryouhavesomethingpossessedbynootherwarlord.
YouhaveItzara.’Mysilencespokeforme.Myheartwasanopenbooktoher,andsheneedednothingmoretoseethe
truth.IstaredatNefertari.Shestaredback.‘GyreandIcanfeelthechangewithinyou,’shesaid,‘evenifyoucan’tfeelityourself.Inignorance,
mypeoplegavebirthtotheYoungestGoddess,calledSheWhoThirsts.Withherbirth-crysheburnedourempire.Withherfirstbreathsheswallowedoursouls.Shecravesthemstill,sucklinguponourspiritsfromtheshadows.SoIsacrificethesoulsofotherstothisGoddess,drinkingtheirpaintoeasemyown.Theirshrieksbecomesongs.Thestickyrattlesoftheirfinalbreathsarethelullabiesthatletmesleep.Thisisthefateofmypeople,whohuntmestill,eveninmyexile.Iunderstandwhatitmeanstobealone,Khayon,andIsmellthescentinothers.Youaresoveryalone.Itiskillingyou.’‘Iamnotalone.IhaveAshur-KaiandLheor.IhaveTelemachon.IhaveGyre.’‘Youralbinoformermaster.Abrain-damagedfoolwhofollowsyouwithoutknowingwhy.A
degenerateenslavedtoyoubysorcery.Andadaemoninthebodyofthebeastthatalmostkilledyou.’Silencepassedbetweenusoncemore.‘Ihaveyou,’Isaidatlast.Thatmadehersmile.Shewascenturiesoldbythatpoint–olderthanIoranyofmybrothers–yetshe
seemedscarcelyonthecuspofleavingheralienadolescence.‘Youhaveme,’sheallowed,‘butletusnotpretendthatisenough.Youaren’thuman,nomatterthatyou
possessahumancore.Youareaweapon,madetobebondedwithbrother-weapons.Thatisthebondyouwereborntofeelandyouarediminishedwithoutit.ThatneediswhyyouwelcomedFirefistandUgrivianintothecrew.ItiswhyyousavedFalkusandhismen.Yourheartispoisonedandyouarealone,yetyouwereborntoexultinyourbrotherhood.So,finally,youfight.Youfeelthestirringofambitionandseekthegrandestshipofall.Atlastyoufightthesolitudethathasthreatenedyouforsolong.Butwillitbeenough?’Iwasheldraptbyhereveryword.Gyrehadsharedherferalperceptionsofthischange,butNefertari’s
lucidandpatientexplanationcaptivatedme.Sheslippedcloserinafluidslink,openingandclosingherhand,makingthecrystalclawsclick.‘Willitbeenough?’sheaskedagain.‘Youwerebornintobrotherhood,butweaponsneedtobe
wielded,dotheynot?Andthereisnolongeranyonetoguideyou,Khayon.NoEmperorpointingfromHisthroneandshoutingforHissonstoclaimthestarsinHisname.NoKingOne-Eye,peeringintothedarkestdepthsoftheSeaofSoulsanddemandingyoudivewithhimintodamnation.’‘Iservenoonebutmyself.’‘Suchblunt,stupidpride.IspeakofunityandyoufearthatIspeakofslavery.Unity,voscartha.Tobe
partofsomethingbigger,beyondyourself.Withoutyourformeroverlordscontrollingyourpath,youshouldbefree.’‘Iamfree.’Shecamecloser.Tooclose.Hadanyoneelsetouchedmeasshedidinthatmoment,Iwouldhavekilled
themforthediscomfort.Butshewasmine,myNefertari,soIallowedhertheindulgenceofrunninghergloved,clawedfingertipdownmycheek.Donotmistakeintimacyforsensuality.Therewasnothingoflustinthatmoment.Merelyraw,intimate
closeness.‘Ifyouwerefree,’shewhispered,‘youwouldnolongerdreamofwolves.’
Mybloodrancoldatthosewords.Withoutanywayofreadingmymind,shewasstillspeakingmyownthoughtsaloud.‘Doyouknowwhatyouare,voscartha?’IconfessedthatIdidnot.‘Youareawarriorwithnowar,astudentwithnoteacher,andateacherwithnostudents.Youare
contenttoexist,andexistencewithoutpleasureisnodifferentfromdecay.Ifyouremainpassive,ifyouallowthegalaxytoexertitspressureagainstyouwithouteverfightingback...thenyouarenodifferentfromMekhari,Djedhorandtheotherdeadmenwhowalkinyourshadow.Worse,youwillbenodifferentfromyourbeloved,mournedItzara.’Ifeltmyteethclench.Bothmyheartsbeatharder.‘Justlikeher,’Nefertarismiled.‘Floatinginhertankoflife-givingliquid,staringoutathertomb-
chamberwithdeadeyesthatknownothingofhope.ShehadareasontobecometheAnamnesis.Hadsheremainedmortal,amindlesslifeandayoungdeathwereallthatawaitedher.Whatisyourexcuseforsealingyourselfinsuchstasis?’Ididnottrustmyvoice,inthatmoment.Thehesitationmadehersmile.‘Youthrewoffthechainsthatboundyou.YoucastasidetheEmperor’sdesignforyou,andforallyour
brothers.Whathaveyougained,Khayon?Whatjoyisthereinthislife?Whathaveyoudonewiththefreedomyouboughtthroughbloodandfire?’‘I...’‘Hush.Onelastmatterremains.’Hereyeslockedtomine.‘Youarechanging,butnotallwillchange
withyou.TherewillcomeadaywhenyoumustkillAshur-Kai.Ipromiseyouthat.Youbeginthispathtogether,butyouwillfinishitwithouthim.’‘Youarewrong.Heismyclosestbrother.’‘Fornow,heis,fornow.I’vemademypromise.We’llseehowitplaysout.’Nefertari’ssmilefaded.
Shelickedthetasteofmysweatfromherclawedfingertip.‘Disgustingmon-keigh,’shesaidsoftly.AlastbrushofeyecontactwasallthedismissalIhadbeforesheturnedandtooktotheaironcemore.Onceshewasgone,mywolfregardedmewithmalignantwhiteeyes.DidIsenseanotherlectureinthat
inhumanstare?Orsimplyamusement?Imovedonwithoutaword.Mywolffollowed,asshealwaysfollowed.
ThenightIwalkedthesurfaceofAas’ciaral,withtheburningrainbleachingthecobaltpaintfrommyarmour,myattentionkeptdriftingbacktoLheorandTelemachon.Thingshadchanged.I’dnoticeditontheshipmanytimessinceLheorandhiswarriorshadcomeaboard,forthelaughterandtheclashofchainaxeshadawayofechoingthroughthecorridorsofanotherwisesilentship,butontheworld’ssurfacewewerealone.Isolationsharpenedmyperceptionofthedifferencesbetweenhowthingswere,andwhattheyhadbecome.Thechangeswerethatmuchclearer.Come,Ihadsenttothemboth,asIledthewaydownthegunship’sgang-ramp.Telemachonobeyedin
irritatedsilence,buttheWorldEaterwaslesssanguine.‘Itoldyoutostopdoingthat,’Lheorgrowled,followingmeontothesnow.‘Getoutofmyhead.’Ihadn’tevenrealisedIwasdoingit,orderingthemasthoughtheywereRubricae.Nordidtheyfollow
infunerealsilenceasmyRubricaewould,withdullmovementsmatchingmine.Lheorwalkedtotheleft,outofstepwithme,hisaxehangingheavyinhishandanddraggingthroughthesnow.Telemachon’streadwaslighter,morecareful,handsrestingonthepommelsofhissheathedswords.Strangestofall,Icouldhearthembothbreathingoverthevox.Lheorenduredmyglancesforawhile,thengrowledagain.‘Speakwhat’sonyourmind,Khayon,or
lookelsewhere.’‘Itisnothing,’Itoldhim.‘Youarejust...alive.’AtfirstIthoughthewouldlaugh,takingmywordsasmeaninglesssentimentality.Perhapshewouldn’t
understand,ornotcare.Instead,Lheorlookedatmeforseverallongseconds,andthennodded.Justanod.Nomore,noless.Despiteeverythingwewouldgothroughtogetherintheyearstocome,IdonotbelieveIeverappreciatedhispresencebymysideasmuchasinthatmoment.Thepowerofsimplebrotherlyunderstanding.IheardawetsoundfrombeneathTelemachon’shelmaswhatwasleftofhismouthpeeledbackfromhisteethinasicklygrin,buthismockerywaseasytoignore.Thesnowcrunchedbeneathourboots,hissingbeneaththerain’sacidickiss,refreezingassoonasit
dissolved.Theworldwastrulytrappedintime,lockedinamomentyearsorcenturiesbeforenow.TemporaldistortionishardlyunknowntotheEye’sworlds,buttheplacestillmademyskincrawl.Aas’ciaralwasbrokenuntodeath,yetitstilllived.Iftimeeverlaiditstouchuponthisplanetagain,whatwouldhappen?Woulditflyapartinastormofasteroids,finallysurrenderingtocataclysm?Ididnotbothertoscanthesnowylandscapewithahand-heldauspex.Itwouldonlyreadasahundred
differentfrozenelements,ornothingremotelyrecognisable,inkeepingwiththemaddeningenvironmentsofalldaemonworldsintheEye.I’dlongsinceabandonedrelyingonsuchscans.Physicsdidn’tapplywithanyconsistencyhere,onlythewhimsofwhateversentienceshapedtheEye’sworldstotheirowndesires.Aas’ciaralfeltlikeaworlduncontrolled,aspherewithitsguidingmindlost.Wecouldn’tcommunicatewiththeTlaloc.Thevoxwasscrambledbyatmosphericinterference,andmy
bondwithAshur-Kaiwasequallyunreliable.Notlongafterwelanded,Ifeltthekindofseverancethatusuallycomeswithgreatdistance.Hewasnolongerwithmeinmymind.Wepressedonthroughtherain,beginningourdescentintothecanyon.Bythetimewewerehalfway
downtheravine,ourarmourhadbeenacid-washedtodull,metallicgrey.Gyrewalkedinandoutoftheshadows,herblackcoatsoakedinthestingingrain,thoughshewasunharmedbythestorm.Thelightningstormflashingabovetheravinecastanabundanceofshadeforhertomeltintoandriseoutofelsewhere.Occasionally,sheusedourshadows,castaselongatedsilhouettesagainsttheicedrock.Belowus,theshipwassubmergedintheoceanofgreymurkthatfilledthecanyon’sdepths.Ashur-
Kai’ssummationhadbeenaccurate–thecanyoncouldhouseametropolishive-cityanditstenmillionsouls.ThescaleofthatravinestillchillsmybloodwhenIrecallit,asdoesthesightofthedrownedship’stallestspiresalongitsspinalbattlementsthrustingdefiantlyabovethemist.Iknewthen,beforeIsetfootontheship–beforeIevensawitfully–whatIwaslookingat.The
placingofthetowersreachingupthroughthefog...Theirpositioninganddistancefromoneanother...Theship’sscalebetrayediteventhoughwewerenear-blindedbythemistandseveralkilometresaboveit.Lheormadethesameleapoflogicintheverysamemoment.HesworeinNagrakali,callingmy
parentageintoquestion.‘Youwereright,’hesaidattheendofhismaternallyoffensivetirade.‘Thatthing’sthesizeof...’he
trailedoff.‘Somethinghuge.’Telemachongaveasoftlaugh.‘Yourprimarchmusthavebeensoproudtoknowyourintellectmatched
his,Firefist.’TheWorldEatermadenoreply.Iadmiredhisrestraint,thoughIcouldnothelpbutwonderifitwas
purelybecausehelackedanycuttingrejoinder.Lheorwasabovemeaswedescendedanear-verticalpatchofthecanyon’swall,punchinghandholds
andkickingfootholdsinthesnow-blastedrock.LoosegritclatteredagainstmyhelmasLheorkickedanotherfootholdintothefrozenstonehigherup.‘Imaginemakingahomeonthisholeofaworld,’hevoxed.Eventheshortdistancewasgenerating
communicationcracklebetweenus.Thisworldwasbrutalonourequipment.Idroppedthelastdistancedownontoaslopingrockledge,digginginwithmyspikedboots.
Telemachonwasalreadywaiting.Lheorwasstillthreedozenmetresabove.‘Thisistakingforever,’headded.‘Weshouldhaveusedjumppacks.’TherewerenojumppacksontheTlaloc.Nonestillfunctioning,atleast.WhenItoldhimso,itearneda
freshsetofcurses.Thesewerefreeofanymentionofmymother–awomanIscarcelyrememberedanyway.ShehaddarkeyesandskinthesamerichcaffeineshadeasmyselfandItzara.Hernamehadbeen…Ejhuri.Yes.Ejhuri.She’ddiedonProsperowiththecomingoftheWolves.Lheorclambereddowntherestofthewayanddroppedtotheicyledgealongsideme.Theshipwreck
wasstillseveralkilometresbelowus,shroudedinthecanyon’sshadowsaswellastheseethingmist.Go,IsenttoGyre.Tellmeifyoufindanythingalive.Master,thewolfreplied,andleapedintothedarkness.Ilookedskywards,wherethecloudcoverwasapoisonedgreycaulovertheheavens.Spotsofacidic
rainfleckedacrossmyeyelenses,butcouldn’tdissolveanypartofmyarmourbeyondthepaint.Withoutaword,Istarteddownthenextslope,breakingtherocktomakefootholds.Deeperwewent,intodarkness.Anotherhourdownandtherainnolongerfelluponus.Wewerealmost
inthemist.ImusedontheWorldEater’spresenceaswedescended.ItwasLheor’swaytofacewhatevercame
withanaxeandatwitchinggrin.Heseemedtoconsidertoomuchplanningtobenodifferentfromworrying,andtohimworryingwasalackofmoralstrength.FromwhatIcouldtellsofar,healsoheldthearrogantbeliefthatdeathwassimplysomethingthathappenedtootherwarriors.‘Anywordfromyourwolf?’hevoxed.‘Nothingyet.’‘Yousurroundyourselfwiththestrangestthings,’Lheorventured.‘Thealiengirl.Thehell-wolf.That
irritatingalbino.Nowthattraitorwiththeswords.Whatdidyoudotohim,anyway?’IfeltTelemachon’sflareofannoyanceatbeingspokenofasthoughheweren’therewithus.LheorcontinuedonasifI’danswered,givingalistofthereasonsIcouldnevertrustTelemachonand
howIshouldhavekilledhimtosparemyselfthetroubletocome.Ipaidhiscommentarynomind.Gyre?Isentdowntowardsthewreckage.Gyre?Nothing.Nothingatall.‘Becareful,’Isaidtotheothers.‘Ibelievesomethingiswrong.’ThatmadeLheorlaugh.‘It’stragichowthatsurprisesyou,sorcerer.’Helaughedsoeasily.Istartedatthesoundeverytime,thewayacowardflinchesatthesoundof
gunfire.
Iknewtheship’snamethemomentIwalkedonitsruinedhull.Asense,atlast,ofnearbyconsciousnessgrippedme.Allittooktoconfirmthistwitchofmysixthsensewastoplacemypalmagainsttheship’sironskin.VengefulSpirit.Theconceptresonatedthroughthehull,toneless,lifeless.Theship’smachine-spirit,
whateverwasleftofit,breathingitsidentitythroughmetalbones.Sotheshipwasn’tdead.Powereddownandalmostsilent,butnotdead.Ithadn’tcrashed.Fromour
firstjourneysacrossitssurface,bootsclangingontheancientmetal,wesawnoevidenceoflethaldamage.Thewarshipstretchedforseveralkilometres,fromcoldenginestorammingprow,andthe
cloakingmistmadeourjudgementsmorelikeguesses,butthevesseldidn’tlookasthoughithadcrashedatall.Noobviousdamagetothesuperstructure,notoppledbattlementspires...‘I’vehadanunwelcomethought,’Telemachonvoxedasthethreeofustraversedtheexternalhull.
Shadowsoftowersroseinthefogbeforeus,likethepromiseofacityonthehorizon.‘Goon.’‘Whatifthisshipdidn’tcrash?Isitevenonthecanyon’sbottom?Whatifit’ssimplydriftinghere?’Ihadsharedthesamethought.Thevesselwaspowereddown.Therewasnowayitcouldmaintain
positioninanatmospherewithoutpropulsiontocounterthepullofgravity.Iftheshipwasfloatinghereasthoughinavoid,thatwouldmeanitwassomehowimmunetothebrokenplanet’sgraviticpull.Buttheimpossibilityoftheideawasnoreasonforitnottobereal.Giventherandomandfluctuating
natureofAas’ciaral’sdust-chokedstarsystem,Iwascountingontheevidenceofmyeyes,nottheexpectationofphysics.Theplanet’sunpredictablegravitywassounshackledbynaturallawthatwehadn’tevenbeenabletopinpointtheplanet’slocationinspace.ThiswastheEmpireoftheEye–itwasentirelypossiblethathere,deepinthecrustofaworldfrozenintimeatthemomentofitsdeath,gravityhadbeencastasidealongwithtemporalreality.‘Abaddon,’Isaidinsoftawe.‘Ofallthehidingplaces...’Lheorstoodwithme,lookingatthespinaltowersrisingupthroughthemist.‘Weshouldheadinside.’‘Khayon,’saidTelemachonbehindus.Ididn’tanswereitherofthem.Iwasstillplayingoutthepossibilitiesinmymind.Abaddonhadtaken
theVengefulSpiritpasttheFiretideoftheRadiantWorlds,intotheunscannabledepthsoftheEleusinianVeil,andpoweredtheshipdownbeneaththesurfaceofthisbrokenworld.Theaudacityoftheplantookmybreathaway.Nowonderthewarshiphadremainedunfoundforsolong.‘Khayon,’Lheorsaidthistime.‘Amoment,please.’Myhandagainstthehulltrembledwithechoes,teasingmymindwiththescentofsmoke,thesoundof
bolterfire,andthelurchingsensationofthevessel’scannonsfiringintheskiesaboveTerra.‘Khayon!’Iliftedmypalmfromthemetal.‘Whatisit?’Lheorgesturedwithhispistol.Ifollowedthemotiontowhereaservo-skulldriftedfurtherdownthe
hull,bobbinginthemist.Ijuststaredatitforseveralmoments,unsurewhethertobelievemyeyes.Itkeptcomingcloser,gentlyhovering.Themerestexpressionofpsychicinfluencedraggeditthroughtheairtolandinmyhandwithadull
smack.Anactualhumanskull,mountedwithatinyanti-graviticgenerator,whichallowedittofloat,withbothofitseyesocketsfilledbypict-recorders,sensorneedlesandfocusinglenses.Achromiumspinalcordquiveredinanobsceneparodyoflife,thrashinghelplesslyatmyarmasI
clutchedtheskullprobeinmyhand.Itsmechanicaleyesclickedandwhirredastheyrefocusedonmyfaceplate.‘Greetings,’Isaidtoit.Itsreplywasanalarmedblurtofdistressedcodefromtheminisculevox-speakerslodgedinplaceofits
upperincisors.Thething’sarticulatedspinalcolumnthrashedharder,aserpentcoilinganduncoilinginawaynonaturalspineevershould.Iwonderedwhowaswatchingusthroughitseyes.Assuminganyonewasaliveinsidetheshipatall.‘IamIskandarKhayonoftheKha’Sherhan.IcomewithLheorvineUkrisoftheFifteenFangsand
TelemachonLyrasoftheThirdLegion.WearewithFalkusoftheDuragakalEsmejhak.WeseekEzekyleAbaddon.’
Still,itthrashedinmygrip.‘Letmeseethat,’saidLheor.Itossedtheaugmentedskulltohim,expectinghimtocatchit.Instead,asitlabouredintheair,tryingto
rightitselfonitsweakanti-gravmotor,Lheorsmasheditasidewithaswingofhischainaxe.Skullshardsandmetalshrapnelclatteredacrosstheshadowedhull.Ilookedatmybrotherforseveralmoments.‘Anothergloriousvictory,’Isaidatlast.Hegruntedwhatmayhavebeenalaugh.‘Wasthatajoke,Khayon?Becareful,elseI’llbegintobelieve
there’sasoultrappedinthatarmouryouwear.’BeforeIcouldreply,hetappedhistoothedaxeontothehullbeneathourboots.‘Shallwegoinside?’‘Theshiphasseveralthousandaccesshatches,’Telemachonpointedout.‘Youdon’tneedtocuti–’Lheortriggeredthechainaxe.Sparkssprayedashestartedcarving.
Despitetime’slighttouchonthisworld,theEye’sinfluenceshowedthroughouttheVengefulSpirit.Themisthiditsexternalmonstrousness,butthecold,coldthreatoftheflagshipwasperfectlyevidentinside.Manyoftheship’scorridorswerecalcifiedintoalabyrinthofbleachedbonearchitecture.Grey
formationsoflustrelesscrystalknuckledupfromthejointsandcracksinthebonewalls.Theentirevesselrangwiththesenseofjourneyingthroughthecorpseofsomegreatbeast,deadforcenturies.Sparsepowerstillflowedthroughthedownedwarship,manifestinoverheadlightsandwallconsoles.
Theformeroccasionallyflickered.Thescreensofthelatterweredrownedbyquietstatic.Theship’smaingeneratorswerestillandlifeless,thatmuchwasobviousfromthesilence.Whatpowerexistedwaslocalisedandfaint,limitedtoahandfulofsystems.Onseveraloccasions,wewereconfrontedbydriftingservo-skulls.Igreetedthemeachtime,repeating
ournamesandourbusinessaboardtheVengefulSpirit,hopingthatwhoevermaintainedthemwouldwitnessourpresencethroughtheskulls’eyelenses.Mostscannedusorrecordedus,thenimmediatelysoughttofleeontheirchitteringanti-gravmotors.Lheorletmostofthemdriftaway,thoughheshotthreeofthem,claimingthatifAbaddoncaredaboutus
breakingtheirtoys,theFirstCaptaincoulddamnwellcomeanddiscussitfacetoface.Ifoundithardtoarguewithsuchbluntinitiative.Gyreremainedsilentallthewhile.Afterreachingforheronce,I’dsensedherviciousnessatmymere
presence.Wherevershewas,shewashuntingalone.Metalrememberseverything.ExposuretotheEye’stideshaddrawnforthmemoriesfromtheship’s
hull,manifestingechoesofthecrewwhohaddiedservingaboardtheflagshipthroughthedecadesoftheGreatCrusade.Ghoststheywere,formedfromglass.Crystalfacesleeredfromthebonewalls,eachoneshowingexpressionsofuglyharmony.Thefaces,sodetailedastobebeyondeventheworkofamastersculptor,weremasksofclosedeyesandopenmouths.Ifyoumovedcloseenough,youcouldseethecreaselinesontheirlips.Evencloserthanthat,andyoucouldmakeouttheirpores.‘Eventheirghostsarescreaming,’Lheorsaid.‘Don’tbesimple,’Telemachonchidedhim.‘Lookcloser.’Theswordsmanwasright.Eachfacewasunmarkedbystrainlinesoftormentaroundtheeyesthatone
wouldexpectfromashoutingvisage.Thesemenandwomenmayhavediedinpain,buttheirechoeswerenotscreaming.‘Theyaresinging,’saidTelemachon.Iranmyglovedfingersdownoneofthevisages,almostexpectingitseyestoopenandthesongtorise
fromtheglassmouth.Thesestatuesheldlife,ofakind.Adullpresencedriftedbehindtheirclosedeyes,
notentirelydissimilartotheweaklifewithinmyRubricae.Butnotquitethesame.AsIexaminedacrystaltongue,thentheclosedcrystaleyes,Irealisedwhythefeelingwassofamiliar.
Itwasthesamespreadingfaintnessofasoulleavingitsfreshcorpse,inthemaddeningsecondsbeforetheGodspulleditintothewarp.‘Thesethingsmakemyskinitch,’saidLheor.‘Isweartheymovewhenyoudon’tlookatthem.’‘Iwouldn’truleoutthepossibility,’Ireplied.Itouchedoneofthemagain,layingmyfingertipsagainst
itsforehead.IamKhayon.Awordlesspulse,afocusedsenseofmyownidentity.Iamalive,itsangsilently,inamelodymadeofwhisperedshrieks.Iscreamedastheshipburned.I
screamedasthefiresloughedthefleshfrommybones.AndnowIsing.Iliftedmyhandawayoncemore.Howcaptivating,toseetheseserenefacesastombmarkersfordeaths
ofsuchagony.WehadasimilarcustomonProspero,forgingexquisiteburialmasksforourfallenrulers.Nomatterhowtheydied,weentombedtheminamasqueradeofgoldenserenity.NextItouchedtheoutstretchedfingersofanarmreachingfromajointintheivorywall.IamKhayon,Itoldthisone.Iamalive.WhenIchoked,Ibreathedtheflamesintomybody.Everygaspsuckedthefireintomy
throat.Bloodfilledmycookinglungs.AndnowIsing.Nomore.Thatwasenough.Iliftedmytouchaway.Atasuddenglassycrack,IturnedtoseeLheoridlyswattingatthecrystalhandsreachingoutfromthe
bonewalls.Theyshatteredasheslappedthemwithhisgauntletedpalm.‘Stopthat,’Isaid.Eachonehebrokesentalanceofnasty,buzzingheatthroughmytemples.‘What?Why?’Hebackhandedanotherstrainingarm,breakingithalfwayalongitslength.Thecrystal
stumpremained,severedattheforearm,whilethehandandwristshatteredonthebonedeckintinklingshards.Foramoment,thepaininmyheadwentfromheattofire.‘Theyarepsychicallyresonant.Youaremakingthemsing,andthesongisnotapleasantone.’Hestopped.‘Youcanhearthem?’‘Yes.Begladyoucannot.’WemovedontoyetanotherT-junction.Lheorgesturedleftwithhisaxe.‘Themedianlongitudinal
corridoristhisway.’‘Wearenotgoingtothebridge.’Hewasstilllookingdownthehallwayleadingtooneofthevessel’smainspinalthoroughfares.‘We
shouldgotothecommanddeck,’hesaid.‘Wewill.ButIamgoingthiswayfirst.’‘Why?’IaimedSaerndowntheoppositehallway.Averitableforestofgreycrystallimbswasmotionlessly
reachingfromthecorridor’swalls,ceilinganddeck.Ididn’tneedtotouchthemtoheartheirwhispers.Clusteredtogether,theirweakpsychicresonancewasamplifiedenoughtomakemyteethitch.‘Admittedly,’Lheorreplied,‘thatdoeslookpromising.’Wewalkedonwards,carefulnottotouchthe
crystallinehands.Damagestoodoutinstarkcontrastwherethewallswerestilldarkironandcleansteel.Theshiphad
foughtintheskiesaboveTerra,boardedintheSiege’sfinalhoursbycountlessstriketeamsoftheEmperor’selite.Theirlegacywaswrittenonthecoldmetalinpockmarksofbolter-shellimpactsandburnsmearsoflaserscorching.‘Doyoufeelanyone?’Lheorasked.‘IwillneedclearercontextbeforeIcananswerthat.’
‘Feelthem.Sensethem,withmagic.’Magic.Again…‘Theship’smachine-spiritisincoma-somnolence.Thereislifeelsewhere,butIcannotbecertainofits
source.Itmaybenothingmorethantheship’scrystalghosts,orthesentienceoftheworlditselfdrippingintothevessel’sbones.Everythingfeelsalive,butitisadistorted,unfocusedthing.’Lheorsworeashiselbowcrackedoffafewreachingfingers.Iwinced,butsaidnothing.Wemovedon.Lheorwastwitchingeveryfewsteps,hisfingersclenchingandteethgrinding.Ikept
hearinghimwhisperoverthevox.‘It’sthesecrystals,’hesaidwhenhesawmestaring.Therewasaporcelainsquealashisteethclenched
again.‘That’swhyIwasbreakingthem.TheymaketheNailsbite.’Painhaloedhim.Heworeaninvisiblecrownofit,andunborndaemonstooweaktotakeformcaressed
hisarmourashepassed.More,theybegged,desperateforsustenance,pleadingforthefuelthatwouldallowthemtoexist.IdoubtedmostNeverbornfeltTelemachon’spresenceatall.HefeltalmostnoemotionsinceI’d
strippedhisnervesandbraincleanofsensation.IhadseenhimthroughGyre’seyesmanytimessincehisremaking,andhissoulfirewasaweakandinsignificantthingwhenhewasawayfromme.Hewouldstandidleinchambers,almostasmotionlessasaRubricae,breathingandstaring,atonewithwhateverthoughtsremainedinhisskull.Onlywhenhewasnearmedidsensationreturntohismind.Bysuchtemptationwashisloyaltysecured.Hehatedmeasmuchasheneededme.TimemovedstrangelyintheVengefulSpirit’scoldhalls.Myretinaldisplaytrackedtheseconds
passinginabrutallyslowcrawl,whileLheorreportedthathischronometersettingswererunninginreverse.MorethanonceIsawthecrystallineechoesofthedeadcrewmoveattheedgeofmysight.Theywerenotallhuman–manywerewarriorsoftheLegionesAstartes,rebornasechoesaboardtheflagshipwheretheyhaddied.Custodiansinexquisitelydetailedarmourandbattle-scarredImperialFistsreachedfromthewalls,theceilings,thefloordecking...Allsingingsilentfuneralsongsofflameandfury.Somecarriedwarspears,othersheftedboardingshields–mostclutchedboltersinfiststhatwouldneverfireaweaponagain.Oneofthem–amanifestationofahelmetedImperialFistslegionarycutfromgreyglass–shatteredinto
jaggedshardsasIdrewnear.Itsentabuzzofpainthroughmytemples,yetIheardLheorgruntinsomethinglikerelief.Hiscranialimplantshadbeenbitinghardintothemeatofhismindasweapproachedtheglassrevenant,andtheyeasedwithitsshattering.WhenIthinkoftheVengefulSpiritnow,Irememberwhatwemadeofitaftersomanymillenniaof
livingaboardandsailingittowar.Itwassoverydifferentthatnightwhenthethreeofusfirstwalkeditspowered-downchambers.Evenwithitssystemsofflineandthemachine-spiritstarvedofalllife,thecloyingdarknesswasoppressiveratherthanbarren.Thelegendsstatedithadbeenabandonedbutitfelthidden,waiting.Nothollow,notempty.Icannottellyouhowlongwewalkedinthatpregnantdarkness.Anhour.Three.Ten.Timehadno
meaningthere,onthatnight.Irememberthatwepassedthroughapowercrucible,achamberofinactivesecondarygeneratorsleeringatusfromtheshadowswiththemaliceofslumberinggargoyles.Itwasontheothersideofthechamber,asweenteredthelabyrinthofcorridorsoncemore,thatasinewaveroseandfellattheedgeofmyretinaldisplay,trackinganewsound.Footsteps,heavyandslow.Ceramiteonthebonedeck.‘Khayon,’Lheorwarned,raisingahandtostopouradvance.‘Ihearit.’Atargetlockimmediatelyplayedoverthenewcomerasheroundedthejunctionaheadofus.Hewore
weatheredandcolour-fadedarmourscavengedandcannibalisedfromwarriorsofallNineLegions,withalongfallofratty,snarledblackhairstringingacrosshisfeatures,halfhidinghisface.Evenfromthisdistance,Isawgoldinhisgaze.Unnatural,inhumangold,turninghisirisesametallicshade.Inhisfistshecarriedabolter–justasplainandjustasbatteredashiswar-plate.Ratherthantakeaim,hekepttheweaponlowered,looseinhishands.Thevoxcrackledashissuit’ssystemsauto-cycledintooursharedchannel.‘I’llthankyoutostopbreakingmyservo-skulls.’Aresonantvoice,gravellybutwithoutrawness
feignedforeffect.Asmilingvoice.‘IamIskandarKhayon,andthis–’‘Iknowwhoyouare.Iknewevenbeforeyourepeatedyournametoeveryservo-skullthatfoundyou.’‘Wehavegivenyouournames,cousin.Whatisyours?’TheSonsofHoruslegionaryinclinedhisheadbeforereplying.‘Whatexactlywasthepurposeof
destroyingthoseservo-skulls?’‘Itseemedlikelytogetsomeone’sattention,’saidLheor.‘Bluntlogicisthehardesttoargue.Trynottobreakanythingelsewhileyou’reaboard.Really,
brothers,civilitymustn’tbreakdown,elsewe’llhavenothingleft.’Heseemedtobepayinguslittleattentionnow,lookingdownatanauspexbuiltintohisvambrace.I
hearditgivingtheheartbeatthud...thud...thudofecholocationtracking.‘Thethreeofyoucamealone?’‘Yes,’Isaid.‘WhereisFalkus?Ugrivian?Ashur-Kai?’‘Aboardmyship,inorbit...Whoareyou?Nameyourself.’‘IusedtobeonthousandsofhololithsacrossthelengthandbreadthoftheImperium.Nowyou’re
tellingmeI’mnotevenrecognisedbywarriorsoftheLegionesAstartes.’Oursilenceinresponsemadehimchuckle,darkandlow.‘Howthemightyhavefallen,’headded.Thewarriorrakedhisarmouredfingersthroughthemaneoffilthyhair,revealingapitted,palefacethat
defiedanyattempttodiscernhisage.Hecouldhavebeenthirtyorthreethousand.Warwaswrittenacrosshisfeaturesinalatticeofoldcutsandthepockmarksofheat-scarring.Battlemarkedhimevenifagehadnot.Eyesofsick,slickgoldwatcheduswithoutblinking.Amusementflickeredthere,warminghiscold,
metallicstare.AndthatwashowIknewhim.Henolongerworethegreatblackwar-plateoftheJustaerin,norwashis
hairboundupintheceremonialtopknotoftheCthoniansubterraneanwork-gangs.HewasahollowshadowoftheinvinciblewarriorwhooncegracedvictoryhololithicsandImperialpropagandatransmissions,butIknewhimthemomenthemetmyeyesandsharedhisdry,bladedamusement.Ihadseenthatglancebefore.IhadseenthatexpressiononTerra,asthePalaceburnedaroundus.Helookedatthethreeofusaswewordlesslystared.Lheorwastheonetobreakthestalemate,doing
sowithanabsolutefailureofdiplomacy.‘Dropyourweapon,CaptainAbaddon.We’reheretostealyourship.’
EZEKYLE
Inanotherage,thechamberhadhousedtenBattleTitansoftheLegioMortis,includingtoweringstructuresofammunitioncrates,loadinggantries,repaircranes,andthearcaneenginesrequiredbytheMechanicuminthemaintenanceofitsgod-machines.TheTitansweregone,aswasallevidenceoftheirpresence,butthehugechamberwasfarfromempty.Partmemorial,partarchive,partmuseum–thehangarwasnowamonumenttoAbaddon’sjourneysacrosstheEyeandatestamenttotheinnerworkingsofhismind.IfeltTelemachon’ssubtleaweandLheor’shesitantwonder.Iknewmyownsurprisewouldshowjust
asplainly,hadtheothersbeenabletoreadmymindasIcouldtheirs.NeverbeforehadIseenachamberlikeit.Abaddonhadledushereafterourmeetinginthecorridor,
evidentlyunimpressedwithLheor’spromiseofthievery.Thebonesofanimmenseserpentcreaturewereboundtoonewall,displayingabeastlargeenoughto
swallowaLandRaiderwithoutchewing.Theshortestfangsinitsthree-hornedskullwerethelengthofachainsword,thelongestweretheheightofaDreadnought.Everytooth’soutwardcurveshowedaravineofsortsgougedintotheivory.Grooves,toletbloodspurtfromabiteandtopreventthefangsremainingstuckinprey.Ididnotwanttoknowwhatabeastlikethishuntedthatrequiredittobleeditsfoesratherthandevourthemwhole.Severaloftheskull’sforemostfangswereshatteredintheunevenbreaksofbluntforcetrauma.‘ImetthatonSkorivael,’Abaddonexplained,notingmyinterest.‘Theylivebeneaththelargestocean,
inhivesofpoisonouscoral.’‘Theshatteredfangs?’Iasked,stillstaringatit.‘Ibrokethemwithapowerfist,’hesaid.‘Itwastryingtoeatme.’Hewalkedthroughthechamberwithouttouchinganything,andweallfollowedsuit.Orderwasamyth
amidstthatmess.RottingcorpsesfrommorespeciesthanIcouldquicklycounthungfromchainmeathooks,whilewholeandpartialskeletonswereboundtothewallsorleftinheapedpilesamongthechaos.Scrollsofparchmentfilledwholecrates,whilehundredsofdatapadsblinkedinandoutofbattery-chargedconsciousness.Dozensofmachinesrumbledandhummedastheywentabouttheirfunction–onthedeck,onthewalls,ontheceiling.Machinepartsandweaponswerescatteredacrossthedeckindisarray.Salvagedsuitsofarmourlay
hereandtherewithoutanysemblanceoforganisation.EveryLegion’scoloursshowedinthecannibaliseddisorder,includingadozeninthecobaltoftheThousandSons.Weaponsfromhundredsofculturesanderaswereeitherpreservedinshimmeringstasisfieldsonmarbleplinths,orlefttorustandcorrodeonthedeck.
IpickedupthegoldenhalberdofanImperialCustodian,turningitoverinmyhands.‘It’sgene-lockedtothewarriorwhooncewieldedit,’saidAbaddon,‘butIcanactivateitforyou,if
youwish.’Idroppeditbackontothedeck,stilllostinwhatIwasseeing.Itlookedasthoughastormhadswept
throughawarmuseum.ThetreasuresofAbaddon’spilgrimageacrosstheEye...Afortuneinrelicsandculturaltreasures,aswellasaworldofscrapandjunkthatheldnoobvioussignificance.Abaddon,withsurprisingcourtesy,gesturedoneofhismismatchedgauntletsstraightup.Hundredsof
generatorsrattledfar,faraboveus,boltedtothegothicarchceiling.‘Doyourecogniseit?’Ididn’t.Notatfirst.Theroomwastoooverwhelming.Mostofthewallswerebone,transmogrified
alongwiththerestoftheship,butstrutsofbrownedironandblacksteelworkedinartificialsynergywiththeivoryarchitecture.Theysupportedandreinforcedthearchingbonestructure,providingthefoundationsfornewmachinerytobeboundtothechamber’sdeck,ceilingandsides.Isawturbinereactors,heatexchangers,evenwhatlookedlikeaplasmacradle–thoughitwasfartoo
smalltobeatrueplasma-fuelledgenerator.Threeoftheinstallationsalongonewallwereplainlytortureracks,completewithmanaclesandneuralneedles.Thereseemedtobenounityofformandfunctiontothemachines–thecollectionwaseclectictothepointofseemingrandom.Everythingwaslinkedbyboundcablesandthreadedthroughwithgreycrystals.Eachmachineheld
courtoveraclusteroflesserengines,cogitators,monitorsandgenerators.Theentireleftwallwasgivenovertosurgicaltablesandwall-mountedservitorsarmedwithtoolsforbionicaugmentationandthenecessarymicrosurgerythatalwaysaccompaniedit.Ilookedatthemall,atthechamberinitsentirety,attheformationoftheclusteredmachines.Mostof
all,Ifollowedthelinesofpowercablesrunningbetweenthem.Theyformedshapes.Familiarshapes.Eachmachineheldthepositionofastar.Whenviewedtogethertheywere...constellations.SkorpiosVenenum,thepoisoner.Feraleo,thegreatbeast.JeimaandInaya,theEmperor’s
Handmaidens.Andthere,SujittarustheHunter,withhisskirtedconsort,OriennetheHuntress.Icouldonlyguesswhatastralsignificancethemachines’alignmentwouldproduceifusedinpsychicritualwork.Abaddonhadcreatedanexusofenergiesinmorewaysthanone.‘Thisisthenightsky,’Isaid.‘ThesearethestarsfromthesurfaceofTerra.’Myanswerpleasedhim,ifhisslightsmilewasanythingtogoby.Yetheofferednofurtherexplanation.‘Wouldyoucareforrefreshment?’Whowasthisdisarming,unassumingpilgrim?Wherewasthecholericbattle-kingwhocommandedthe
warrioreliteofthemostrespectedLegion?Iwasatalossforwords.Hisinnersanctumwasthehovelofarabidcollector,theworkshopofatrainedTechmarine,thesombrehavenofascholar,thearmouryofadesperatesoldier.Allofitandnoneofit.Hehadseenmoreinhisisolatedtravelsthananyofus,anditshowedhereinthisshrineofmemories.Therefreshmentheofferedturnedouttobeaclearspiritthatleftafaintburnonthebackofthetongue.I
ambeinggenerouswhenIsayithadtherawchemicaltasteofenginecoolant.This‘beverage’camefromabarrelwithwarningsofacidictoxicity,pouredintoflasksoftwistedwhite
metal.IhadtheuncomfortablefeelingthatAbaddonwasactuallymakinganefforttobehospitable.Telemachonrefusedtotouchtheliquid.Itookaflaskoutofcourtesy.‘Thisisgood,’Lheorsaidashedranktheclearliquid.‘Mythanks,captain.’IletmysensesbrushoverLheor’smind,curiosityforcingmetoseekanysignofdeception.
Unbelievably,theWorldEaterwastellingthetruth.Helikedit.‘Itisadrenochrome,’saidAbaddon,‘harvestedfromtheadrenalglandsoflivingslaves,andmixed
withseveralartificialcompounds,includingaformulathatIdevelopedwhiletryingtosynthesiseectoplasma.’Istoppedlookingatthefalsemachine-constellationsandstaredathim.‘YoutriedtosynthesiseAetheria?Youtriedtoartificiallyrecreatethefifthelement?’Henodded.‘Sometimeago,now.Iabandonedtheendeavourasultimatelyfutile.’‘You...youtriedtoconcoctrawwarpenergy?Outofchemicals?’‘Notjustchemicals.Ialsousedwhatyou’dcall“supernaturalreagents”.Thisistheinertresult,of
course.Therunoff,ifyouwill,furtherfilteredandblendedwithlevelsofalcoholthatwouldkillanunmodifiedhuman.’Hepaused,andlookedatmeforalongmoment.‘Youseemtobestrugglingwiththeconcept,Khayon.’‘IconfessthatIam.Whatmaterialsdidyouuse?’Hegrinned.‘Thetearsofvirgins.Thebloodofchildren.You’refamiliarwiththemysteriesofthe
warp,soyou’llknowhowitalwaysisinthesematters.Symbolismiseverything.’Iremovedmyhelm,juststaringathim,unsureifhewastellingthetruth.Theaircarriedthescentof
rancidbronze.‘Funny,’Lheorchuckledashedrainedtherestofthedrink.‘Itry,Itry.TherewasalsovenomfromoneoftheNeverbornthatmanifestedaboardtheshipseveral
yearsago,whichtroubledmeuntilIdeceiveditintocontainment.AnotherfewnoteworthyingredientswouldbethecorpsesofseveralpsykersandNeverborn,lefttoslow-dissolveincooledplasmacradles.Ithensiphonedtheremainingslimethroughhexagrammicallywardedpurifiers.’Hespokeasifdetailedalchemicaltransmutationwasamatterofdailychores.Iwonderediftherewas
anyforbiddenknowledgehehadnotatleastdabbledinduringhisisolation.‘Isee,’mutteredLheor.‘Howenlightening.’‘Sarcasmisunbecomingofawarrior,Lheorvine.Ifitboredmetodoit,it’sjustasboringtohearabout
theprocess.Intruth,I’veleftallofthoseexperimentsbehindmenow.Curiosityforcedmetotry,butItooklittlejoyinthework.Mostofmytimeisspentofftheship,asyoucanimagine.’Fortheveryfirsttime,hetookheedoftheleatherbounddeckoftarotcardschainedtomybelt.‘That’s
animpressivegrimoire.’Theword‘grimoire’wasformoretheatricalpractitionersoftheArtthanI,butIdidn’tcorrecthim.‘Areyougoingtodrinkthat?’Lheorasked.Ihandedmyflasktohimwithoutaword.‘Youshoulddrink
whileyoucan,’hechidedme.Hehadapoint.Oh,thebattleswehavefoughtintheEyeoversomethingassimpleandprimalasthirst.
Ihavespententireyearsofmylifesubsistingonchemicalcompounds,cancerouslakewater,andevenblood.Ihavebutcheredbrothersandcousinsforahundredsins,butyoucannotimaginehowmanyhavediedtomybladeinwarsovercleanwater.‘Strikemeblind,’Telemachonwhisperedfromacrossthechamber.‘TheTalon.’Wemovedovertohim,wherehestoodbeforeanarmourracklockedinsideashimmeringwhitestasis
field.ThehulkingsuitofblackCataphractiiarmourwasunmistakable,castinblackenedceramiteanddecoratedwithHorus’sstaringeye.ThebattleplateoftheHighChieftainoftheJustaerin.Abaddoninhisage-bleachedarmourcannibalisedfromallNineLegionslookedafarcryfromthewarriorhehadoncebeen,wearingthisornateTerminatorsuitonthebattlementsoftheEmperor’sPalace.Bolterscarsandbladecutsshowedacrossalmosteverycentimetreoftheceramite.TherewasnoquestionthatAbaddon,beforehispilgrimage,hadalwaysbeenfoundwherethefightingwasthickest.Separatefromthearmour,animmenselightningclawrestedonaplinthofitsown.Itsfingerswere
silverblades,subtlycurved,eachoneamonstrousscytheinitsownright.Addingtotheweapon’sbulk
wasanornatedouble-barrelledboltermounteduponthebackofthegauntlet.Itsammunitionfeedportsweresculptedasthewidemouthsofhungeringbrassdaemons.Scratchesanddentsmarkedtheclaw’sblacksurface,TheTalonofHorus.Instasis,itlookedalmostmundane.Lethal,vicious,deadly,butjustalightning
claw.Justaweapon.Telemachon’sshiverofpleasurewasthestrongestemotionIhadfeltfromhismindsincerewritingit.I
sensedhimsalivatingbehindtheburialmask.ThenIsawwhy.BloodmarkedtheTalon’sblades–driedpatchesofblood,smearedacrossthebrightmetalclaws.
Telemachon’shandrestedagainstthestasisfield’srepressoraura,asthoughhecouldsimplypushthroughitandtouchtheTalonitprotected.Abaddonjoinedus,hisinhumaneyesrestingontheshieldedweapon.Forhimitheldlessmystiqueyet
moreresonance.HehadseenhisprimarchfatherbearingtheTalonintobattleathousandtimes,lendingtherelicanairoffamiliarity,buthehadbeentheonetoteartheclawfromhisfather’scoolingcorpsewhileitsbladeswerestillwetwiththebloodof...of...Iexhaledsoftly,feelingthestasisfield’smistywarmthagainstmyface.‘Whendidyoulockitinstasis?’
IaskedAbaddon.‘Withinhoursoftakingit.’Abaddonwasstaringaswell,thoughIcouldnotsaywhatemotioncurdled
behindhisgoldeneyes.‘Ineverworeitinbattle.’Hestartedtokeyinadeactivationcodetoshutdownthestasiscloud.Myhandgrippedhiswristwith
punishingforce,buttoolate,toolate.Therestrainingfieldquiveredandfailed.Weaponshavesouls.TheMartianMechanicumhasalwaysknownthis,withtheirritualstohonourand
appeasethemachine-spiritsoftheirguns,bladesandwarengines.Butaweapon’ssoulreflectsinthewarp,aswell.TheverymomentthestasisfieldcollapsedandallowedtheTalonbackintoreality,theweapon’sspirit–athingofinconceivablepredation–clawedatmymind.TheTalon’smurderous,shriekingclosenessthreatenedme,fromthekillingbladestothefat-mouthed
gunbarrelsparasiticallyboltedtoitsback.Corpse-stink,thickandhotandchoking,emanatedfromthebloodstainedbladesinachokingaura.Thedried,richrednessonthecurvingscythespressedatmyeyeswithoily,liquidpressure.Theweepinglamentofamourningfatherandadyinggodwasascreamingroarinmyears,sinkingintomyskull.Everysinglecut,scrapeanddentupontheweaponhadbeenearnedonabattlefieldwherebrotherfoughtbrother.IwashalfadozenstepsbackbeforeIevenrealisedIwasmoving,onehandpressedtothesideofmy
headtocontainthestabsofpressurepulpingmybrainmeat.Myvisionswam,blurringintouselessness.Igaggedonthereekofgeneticallypurifiedblood.Itstastedrownedmytongue.MyaxeclatteredtothedeckwithoutmerememberingIhaddrawnit.‘Well,now.’Abaddon’svoicecametomefromagreatdistance.‘Whatasensitivecreatureyouare,
Khayon.MuchmoreattunedthanIrealised.’Mercycame,butnotswiftly.Theassaultagainstmysensesretreated,goinggrudginglybacklikean
ocean’stide.Ipulledbreathintomylungs,feelingthemexpandinmychest.Theairstillcarriedthatgene-forgeddeathscent,butitwasnolongerravagingme.SomanytimesintheyearstocomewewouldfacetheBloodAngelsandtheirSuccessors,andeach
timethedescendantsofSanguiniuswouldsuffertheirownbreedofmadnessinthepresenceoftheweaponthatcrippledtheEmperorandmurderedtheirprimarchforefather.IbelieveIfeltasliveroftheirpainthatnightaboardtheVengefulSpirit.Irosefromoneknee,wipingmybleedingnoseandmouthonmyarmouredpalm.Thebloodlooked
blackagainstthedeep,metallicblue.Thestasisfieldwasstilldown.TheTalon’spresencepressedagainstmysenses,butinawhispernow
ratherthanaboilingflood.Mybrotherswerewatchingmewithvaryingdegreesofcomprehension.‘Thatwasunpleasant,’Iadmitted.TheyhadreactedtotheTalon’sunveilingaswell,thoughnotasstrongly.IcouldfeelTelemachon’s
undercurrentofdelightedrevulsionatthesmellofthebloodiedblades,andthedullfireofLheor’sticking,achingmind.Abaddonrestoredthefieldwiththereactivationcode.Thediscomfortvanishedimmediatelyasthe
weaponwastakenoutoftime.‘Unpleasantperhaps,butveryeducational,’Abaddonrepliedatlast.Hemovedovertoaworkbench,
whereheunceremoniouslytossedhisbolterwithaloudclangofmetalonmetal.‘So.Lheorvinewassayinghowyou’dcometostealmyship?Dogoon.’Alittlelatetolie,andIsuspectedhewouldseethroughanydeceit,nomatterhowwellIwordedit.‘Thethoughthadcrossedourminds,’Ireplied.Abaddontappedhisheartthreetimes,inthatformalgestureofhonestyhabitualtosomanyofthe
Cthonia-bornSonsofHorus.‘Don’ttryit,asI’dbeforcedtokillyou.Ineedyoufartoomuchtoletyoudie,mybrother.’Hepaused,
turninghisgoldengazeuponmeagain.‘Howisyoursisterfaring,Khayon?’Iwasfollowingtheplayofhiswordswithouttrulygraspingthemeaning.Heknewwewerecoming,
andheknewwhowewere.HewasawareIhadintendedtoclaimtheVengefulSpirit.Nowheclaimedtoneedme–forwhat,Icouldnotguess–butwhenhementionedmysister,Ifeltmyteethclenchtogether.Killinglightningwormedaroundmyfingers,inspiredintoexistencebymyflashofanger.‘Issomethingwrong,Khayon?’Abaddon’seyesglowedaknowinggold.‘Youarenottakingherfromme.’Thevisibleveinsbeneathhischeeksandinhisneckseemedtorunwithafluiddarkerthanbloodfora
fewheartbeats.Icouldscarcelyreadanythingofhisironcladmindbeyondthefacadeofcalmheusedasashield,butIsensedafloodofsomethinglikelavainsidehisheart,beneaththeoutwardlygeneroussmile.‘Iaskedifshewaswell.That’shardlyathreattotakeherfromyou.’LheorandTelemachonwerewatchingmenow.‘Yoursister?’askedtheWorldEater.Abaddonansweredinmyplace.‘TheAnamnesis.Forgiveme,Iassumeditwascommonknowledge.’Lheorgaped.‘Thatshe-wretchfloatinginthesuspensionfluid,downintheCore...That’syoursister?’Ihadnodesiretodiscusssuchathingatall,letalonehereandnow.Lheorchosenottotakemysilence
asahint.‘WhywouldyoulettheMechanicumdothattooneofyourownblood?’‘Therewasnochoice.’IroundedonLheor,forcingthesnakelightningtodissipateintothechamber’s
stinkingair.Ihadtobecareful–anysignofaggressionwouldforcehisNailstobite.‘Shewasinfectedbyoneofthepsychicpredatorsofourhomeworld.Itpulseditseggsintohermind,andthecreature’syoungdevouredhalfofherbraintissuebeforetheyweresuccessfullyremoved.ShecouldbecometheAnamnesis,orliveinagonyasastupefiedshellofthewomanshewas.’Speakingofitbroughtitallback.Thelatenightsbyherbedside,cleaningherwhenshelostcontrolof
herbody’sfunctions.Theendlessweepingofourparents,whoblamedthecranialsurgeonsforactingtoopoorly,andmeforreturningtoTizcatoolate.ThenightlongdeepprobesintoItzara’sconsciousness,seekinganypartofherthatremaineduntouchedbytheravenouscreaturesandthegougingsurgerythatfollowed.IhadgivenmyyoungersistertotheMechanicumoutpostonProspero,knowingtheirexperimenters
neededalivingpsychichumanfortheAnamnesisconversion.Iknewitwasariskandthatallprevious
attemptsatcreatingtheartificialgestalthadfailed.Butitwasworththerisk,andIwoulddoitagain.Itwastheonlychoiceworthmaking.LheorandTelemachonwerelookingatmeinanewlight.Abaddonwaslookingatmeasifhecouldsee
andheareverythingIwasthinking.Hetappedhisfingertipstohisheart,threetimes.‘Forgiveme,brother.ThatwoundisfresherthanI
realised.Imeantnoinsultoroffence.’Myteethunclenchedbutthetensiondidn’tleaveme.‘Itisfine,’Ilied.‘Iam...protectiveofher.’‘Yourloyaltydoesyoucredit,’Abaddonremarked.‘ItisoneofthereasonsIsummonedyou.’‘Summonedus?’LheorrealiseditinthesamemomentasI.‘Sargon...TheWordBearerwasnoprophet.
YousenthimtoFalkus,tolureushere.’Abaddonspreadhishandsandperformedamannerlybow.Hispatchworkarmourwhinedatthe
movement.‘Heismostassuredlyaprophet,but,yes,hewasthelure.Itwashardlyamasterfulmanipulation.You
aren’ttheonlysoulsI’vecalled,butyouhavethehonourofbeingthefirst.IreliedonFalkus’sdesperationandhiswishtoavengehisLegion’sfouledlegacy.IreliedonAshur-Kai’shungerforanyshredofforesight.IreliedonTelemachon’sdesiretoconfrontKhayon.IreliedonKhayon’sempathyforaslainLegionandhisloyaltytoFalkus,aswellashisbeliefhecouldtaketheVengefulSpiritbyinstallinghissisterasitsmachine-spirit.Andasforyou,Firefist,Ireliedonyourwishtoseeksomethingmorethanthelifeofablood-maddenedraider,andyourhungertofindapurpose.Inshort,IreliedonwarriorswhowishedtobemorethanthelegaciesoftheirdiminishedLegions.Everythingfellintoplacewithease.Sargonwasjustthefirstbreaththatsetthewindhowling.’Lheor’sstitchedfeatureslockedinascowl.Ithoughthewasgoingtocommentfurther,butinsteadhe
growled.‘Don’tcallmeFirefist.’TheSonsofHoruslegionarylaughedatthat,thefilthyhairclingingtohispalecheeks.‘Verywell,my
brother.Whateveryouwish.’Aswecontinuedtalking,Lheorpacedthechamber,examiningthemachineryanddiscerningeach
engine’sfunction.Hisgazelingeredlongestontheweapons.‘Don’ttouchthat,’Abaddonwarnedatonepoint.Lheorputtherotorcannondown.Itsmultiplebarrels
whinedtoahalt.IgavevoicetothequestionwarriorsoftheNineLegionshadbeenaskingforaneternity.‘WhydidyouabandonyourLegion?’Abaddonhadturnedtoworkonhisbolterrestinguponhisworkbench,oilingthemechanismsand
flushingthedetachedcomponentswithcleansingsolution.‘Horus’swarwasover.Thatwarmattered,thisonedoesnot.Withtherealconflictleftinashes,why
shouldIcareaboutthismeaningless,endlessskirmishingbetweentheNineLegions?’Mybloodwasup,andnotjustintheaftermathoftheTalon’srevelation.Abaddon’seffortless,endless
knowledgeofmeandmybrethrencertainlywasnoteasingmysenseofcaution,whilehisblithedismissaloftheliveslostintheEyesincethebeginningoftheLegionWarsturnedmysalivasour.‘Somethingtosay,Khayon?’Iwasnotimaginingthechallengeinhistone.‘TheThirdandTwelfthhavelostmorewarriorstoeachothers’bladesthantheyeverlostinHorus’s
rebellion.AhrimanhasmurderedtheFifteenth.FewsoulscanevendealwiththecursedFourteenthsincetheirlosstotheGodofLifeandDeath.TheEightharehereonlyinfragmentednumbersatmost,andtheFourthrulesoveritsisolatedbastions,risingonlytotradeandraidatthevanguardofdaemonicmachinehordes.OftheTwentieth,noonecansaywithanysurety,but–’‘They’rehere,’Abaddoninterruptedwithasmile.‘Takemywordonthat.’
‘Howcanyoubesoignorant?’IfeltmyvoicehardeningasIlistedtheLegions’fates,toopenAbaddon’seyestothewarhehadignored.‘YourLegionisdead,’Ipressed.‘Youleftthemtodie.’Helookedatme,notneedingtospareanyattentionforthebolterhewascleaning.Hisgazeletmeknow
Ihadnotonlyfailedtoconvincehim,butIhadsaidexactlywhathe’dbeenexpectingtohear.‘Suchstridentwords,Tizcan.Yethowloyalareyoutoyourownbloodline?Howoftendoyoureturnto
thatwraith-blightedworldwhereMagnusOne-EyeweepsatoptheToweroftheCyclops?’Mysilenceansweredforme.Hisgoldeneyesflaredwithinnerlightashecontinued.‘TheLegionWars
willneverend,Khayon.They’reendemicoflifehereinHell,andtheywillnever,everend.Morethanthat,they’rethesavageinevitabilityofthosetooproudandtoowrathfultoaccepttheirpastdefeat.Thesearen’tmybattles.Sheddingbloodforslavesandterritory?I’mnotabarbarian,tofightovertrivialnothingness.I’masoldier.Awarrior.IftheLegionswishtoraidoneanother’shuntinggroundsfortablescrapsandstealeachothers’toys,thenI’llletthem.Ifeelnoneedtosavethemfromtheirpettyfate.Theychosetofightanddieinaworthlesswar.’Telemachonwastheonetospeak.HehadbeentheonlyoneofustofightatAbaddon’ssidemorethan
onceintheGreatCrusade.‘Youhavechanged,’hesaid,hissoftvoicematchingtheserenesilverfacemask.Abaddonnodded.‘I’vewalkedthesurfaceofeveryworldhereinthispurgatorialprison.Ihadto–to
learnthisrealm’sboundaries,toseeitssecrets.’Helookedbackatthebolter,beginningtoreassembleitnowitwasclean.‘Oldgrudgesandoldallegiancesnolongerinterestme.Whetherwewishitornot,thisisanewage.’IreleasedabreathIhadnotrealisedIwasholding.Onelasttry.‘Thatisallyouhavetosay–thatyouarebetterandwiserthanthoseofusstillmiredintheLegion
Wars?Yourgene-lineispracticallyextinguished,Abaddon.’Myentreatydidnothingbutamusehim.‘Listentoyourself,mybrother.Youargueandargueasthough
youweren’tguiltyoftheverysamesinsyoulayatmyfeet.Doyoustandbeforemeandrailagainstmydecisionsbecauseyoutrulydisagreewiththem,orbecauseyou’rehereasFalkus’sadvocate?’Lheorbarkedalaughbymyside.IsensedTelemachonwassmilingbehindhishelm.‘Youmisunderstandthegravityofthesituation,’Isaid.‘Lupercaliosisgone,wipedfromthefaceof
creation.’‘IamalltooawareofwhathappenedattheMonument.’Forseveralseconds,Ihadnothingtosay.‘Idonotunderstandhowyoucanbedealingwiththisso
calmly.’‘ShouldIshriekinchildishrage?’Abaddoncountered.‘Furyisaweapon,mybrother.Abladetobe
usedinbattle.Outsideofwar,ittendstocloudjudgement.WhyshouldImournaLegionIchosetoleavebehind?I’mnolongeroneofthem.’IcouldscarcelybelieveIwashearingthesewordsfromtheformerFirstCaptainoftheSonsofHorus.
Abaddontookmysilenceforcapitulationandpressedhispointharder.’‘Answermethis,Khayon–areyoustillalegionaryoftheThousandSons?Lheorvine,areyoustilla
WorldEater?Telemachon,whoseLegionnameringshollowestofall,areyoustilloneoftheEmperor’sChildren?TheEmperorandhisfailedsonsgaveyourLegionsthosenames.Dotheystillringproudinyourheartandsoul?Areyoustillthesonsofyourfathers,respectingthemandembodyingtheirfailures?Doyouseetheirflawsandweaknesses,andwishtorepeatthem?Sargonlookedintothepathsofthefutureandtoldmetherewasmoretoallofyouthanthecallofworthlessbloodlines.Washewrong?’Hisdemandingaccusationssoberedthethreeofus.Welapsedbackintosilence;whenyouhavea
thousandquestionstoask,itbecomesdifficulttoknowwheretobegin.Abaddonpaiduslittleattention,
etchingCthonianrunesonthecasingsofhisboltershells.Lheorcontinuedwanderingthechamber,lookingatthebiologicalcomponentsAbaddonwaspreserving
invariousfluids.Eyes,hearts,lungs.TheGodsaloneknewwherehehadacquiredthem;mostweren’thumaninorigin,andpreservingtheorgansofNeverbornrequiresaspecialbreedofpatientalchemicalexpertise.Youcouldwalkforaweekinthatmemorialchamberandstillnotwitnesshalfofitswonders.Whenhereturned,Lheordrainedanotherflaskofourhost’sfoulconcoction.Hisdarkfeaturessplitinto
asmile.‘I’mnostudentofblackmagic,buthaveyouaddedsorcerytothethingsyou’vebeenlearning?’ServosinAbaddon’sneckarmourgrowledquietlyasheturnedtoregardusagain.‘I’musedtobeingalonesoifImissthenuancesinyoursenseofhumour,Icanonlyapologise,brother.
Whatdoyoumean?’‘Hemeansthesomnus-cry,’Isaid.‘Whereisyourastropath?’‘Ah.Ihavenoastropath.Ihavethebrainsofthreeastropathsfloatinginsuspensionfluidandwiredinto
thepsy-resonantcrystalsthatgrowacrosstheship.Youwerepokingatthemafewminutesago,Lheorvine.’Hegesturedtoacollectionoforgansandbrokencrystalsinatransparentcylinderofsicklygreyjuice.
‘ItisthebeaconIusetofindmywaybackwhenIreturnfrommywanderings.Oneofthebrainscamefromaneldarpriestess.Sheputupquiteafight,letmetellyou.Sargonmaintainsthelife-supportengine,though.I’veneverdevelopedtheexpertisetokeepitfunctioningmyself.’‘Sargonisdead,’saidLheor.‘HediedmonthsagowhentheEmperor’sChildrenambushedourfleet.’Abaddonturnedbacktohisinscriptionwork.‘Idoubtthat,forIspoketohimonlythreedaysago.He’s
intheVaults,severaldozendecksbelowus.Hegoestheretomeditate.’SoSargonlived,andhadbeeninstrumentalinluringusheretoAbaddon.Thatwasanotherquestion
answeredbeforeIcouldaskit.JusthowSargonhadescapedwassomethingIresolvedtotearfromtheWordBearer’sbrainifIhadto,yetsomethingmoreurgentpressedagainstmymind.‘Didanyofyourservo-skullsdetectawolf?’Abaddonraisedascarredeyebrow.‘OneofRuss’swarriors?OrdoyoumeantheKanaslupis
mammalsofOldEarth?’‘Thelatter.ANeverborn,incarnatedasaFenrisianwolf.Ihavenotheardfromhersincewecame
aboard.’‘IbelieveI’drememberseeingoneofthoseaboard.Iassumethiscreatureisyours?’‘Yes,sheismine.’Abaddon’slaughwasabear’swet,rumblinggrowl.‘Youcallit“she”.Howwonderfullysentimental.’Lheoravailedhimselfofanotherflaskoftheoilybrew.Afteraheavyswallow,agrimsmilecrossed
overhispatchworkface.Hereallydidenjoythestuff.‘Youknowwe’restillgoingtostealthisship,’hesaidgenially.Abaddonshowednosurpriseorunease
atall.‘Afineambition.She’soneoftheworthiestmonumentstomankind’singenuity.’Telemachoncametostandbymyside.Hewastheonlyoneofusstillwearinghishelmet.Conversely,I
sensedhewastheonemostateaseinAbaddon’scompany.Iwonderedifitwasfrommyeviscerationofhisthoughtsandemotions.Ihadreshapedhimtoencourageeasyobedience,buthewasdisappointinglypassionlesssofar.ThelastthingIdesiredwastoengineermoreservantssimilartomyRubricae.AlreadyIcouldimagineAhriman’swords–thenexttimeheandIcrossedpaths,hewasboundtoconsidermyneuralmanipulationofTelemachonasthebasesthypocrisy.Whatirritatedmemostofallwasthathewouldberight.
‘Yousaidyousummonedus,’Telemachonsaid.‘Youhaven’tsaidwhy.’TheformerSonsofHoruslegionaryfinallysethisworkaside.‘Forgiveme,Ithoughtthatwouldbe
obvious.’‘Humourus,’theswordsmansaid.Abaddonlookedintooureyes,eachinturn.Hehadawayabouthimeventhen–evenaftersomany
decadesalone–ofconveyingthemostruthlesssinceritywithoutashadowofawkwardness.Whenyoureyesmethisgoldengaze,therewasafeelingofbeinghonouredbytrust,ofbeingtakenintohisconfidence.HerewasthefirstsignofthecharismaticchieftainwhohadcommandedtheeliteregimentoftheImperium’smostrenownedLegion.Histimeasapilgrimhadlayeredwisdomandperspectiveatopthebrutalityofhisformercommand.IwonderedhowFalkusandtheotherSonsofHoruswouldreacttothisrebornfigure.‘Horus,’hesaid.‘HaveyouheardhowtheNeverbornspeakofhim?Theynamemyfathernotforhis
victoriesbuthisfailures,callinghimtheSacrificedKing.’‘Ihavehearditspoken,’Iadmitted.‘Sometimes,Khayon,Iwonderwherefreewillendsanddestinybegins.Butthatisadiscussionwe
shallhaveanotherday.Horuscannotbeallowedtowalkoncemore.Notbecauseofdestiny,orfate,orthewhimsofthePantheon.TheFirstPrimarchdiedinshameandfailure,mybrothers.MylastgifttotheLegionIabandonedistoletthemdiewithdignity.TheEmperor’sChildrenandtheiralliesthreatenthatdignifiedend.Eachofyouisalreadyprimedtoworktowardsthatverytask.Youcouldcallitmanipulationifyouchoose,orcallitasimplealigningofgoals.I’mdonewithcoldallegiancesandtemporaryalliances.IfI’mtoreturntothebattlesragingthroughouttheEye,Iseeksomethingmorereal.Somethingpure.Awarthatmeanssomething.Now,Ihavetheshipyouwant,Isharethegoalyouwishtoachieve,butbothofthosetruthspaleagainstthefactthatIhavetheanswersyourequire.’Lheorwastheonetobiteatthatdanglingthread.‘Whatanswers?’Abaddonsmiled,bringingdarklighttohismetalliceyes.‘Wehaveawarrior-sorcererwiththeheartof
ascholarandaswordsmanwithapoet’ssoul,yetit’sthebloodthirstyaxemanwhoasksthequestionsthatreallymatter.’Hedidnotreachforhisbolterashemadehiswaytowardsthehugedoorsleadingbacktotheship’s
deeperinnards.‘Comewithme.There’ssomethingyoushouldsee.’
VISION
ItwouldbegratifyingtosaythatweoftheBlackLegionsimplyfollowaprophecythatassuresusallwillbewell,thatourpathispreordained,andthatvictoryisinevitable.Itwouldbeverygratifyingindeed.Itwouldalsobealie.Ihavealwaysregardedprophecywithgreatdistaste.IloatheditwhenIfirstwalkedthedecksofthe
VengefulSpiritwithTelemachonandLheor.Iloatheitallthemoreferventlynow–eternitywithAshur-Kai,Sargon,ZaraphistonandMorianahasdonenothingtokindleanyreverenceinme.Nosoulisasself-righteousasonethatbelievesitgazesintothefuture.IreservemymostardentdistasteforMoriana.MorethanoneofEzekyle’slieutenantshasthreatenedto
slaughterhiscontraryprophetess.Severalofthemhavebeenexecutedfortryingtomaketheirthreatsareality.InonecaseIwieldedthekillingspearmyself,stealingabrother’slifebytheWarmaster’scommand.HowIburnedtoturnthebladeonMorianaasshelookedon,smiling,atEzekyle’sside.Ihaveneverforgivenherforthatday.Ineverwill.TheWarmasterisnofool.Thoughhevalueshisseersandsoothsayersabovemanyofhisother
subcommanders,hehasrarelyboundtheBlackLegion’sfatetotheirprophecies.OnlyamadmanheedstheFourGods’promisesasanythingmorethanteasingpossibility.ThebestwaytosurvivelivingintheEyeofTerroristounderstandthewarp.Thebestwaytoprosperistomasterit.Thequickestwaytodieistotrustit.Sowelayclaimtonooverarchingvisionguidingourwarsofconquest.Foresightisjustanother
weaponintheWarmaster’sarsenal.ThenightwemetwithAbaddon,wheretheVengefulSpiritwashiddenwithinthecrustofatime-lost
world,hetookusfromhispilgrimagemuseumtowhereSargonprayedinthesilentstillnessofthelowerdecks.Thefurtherwewalked,thestrongerthesmell,forthosedeckscarriedtheripespiceofadvanceddecaywithnodiscerniblesource.Ifelttheabattoirstinksinkingintomyskin.TheWordBearerwaswaitingforusdownthereinthedeeperdark,meditatinginahumbleisolation
cellwithnothingbutacoldmetalpalletforslumber.HewasstillcladinthecrimsonofhisLegion,theceramiteinscribedwithlayersofColchisianrunicscripturejustasbefore.Andjustasbefore,hismindwasalmostimpenetrabletomyquestingsenses.Thesightofhisfacewasarevelationinitself.MostwarriorsoftheNineLegions–andourthin-
bloodedcousinsintheImperium’sshatteredSpaceMarineChapters–possessanagelessqualitytotheirappearance.Ourgeneticsgenerallypreserveusinourphysicalandsoldierlyprime,leavingusresemblingaugmentedhumanmalesbetweenthreeandfourdecadesofage.BeneathSargon’shelmIhadexpectedtofindaweatheredveteranvisage;awarrior-priestwhoworehisageandscarswithpride.
Ihadnotexpectedthispaleyouth,whosefeaturesseemedbarelyintoadulthood.HelookedfreshlyinductedfromhisLegion’sreservecompanies,nomorethantwodecadesoflifebehindhim.Grievousburn-scarringranfromhischindownhisneck,andintothecollarofhisgorget.Aplasmaburn.Therewasthewoundthatstolehisvoice.Hewasluckyithadnotseveredhishead.‘Myprophet,’Abaddongreetedhim.‘Thesemendesireanswers.’Sargonrosefromhisknees,greetinguswithafamiliargestureinLegionesAstartesbattlefieldsign
language.Hisfistrestedagainsthisheart,thenhishandopenedasheofferedittowardsus–thetraditionalgreetingbetweenloyalbrothers,showingproofofnoweaponinhisgrip.Telemachon,tomysurprise,returnedthegesture.Lheormerelynodded.‘Sargon,’Isaid.‘DoIhaveyoutothankforsavingFalkusandhisbrethren?’Hiseyesweregreen,rareforthedesertclansofColchis,whowerenearuniformlyasduskyskinnedas
mostTizcans,andsharedthesamedarknessofiris.Inanswertomyquestionhenoddedonceandofferedasmall,crookedsmile.Legionbattle-signhadnowordfor‘sorcery’butheconveyeditsmeaningwellenoughbypiecingtogetherseveralothergestures.Anothermysterysolved.IdidnotmentionthatFalkusandhiswarriorsweresufferinginthethroesof
possession.FornowIwantedtobegivenanswers,nottoprovidethem.Attheendofhisexplanation,SargonlookedtoAbaddonandtappedathumbbeneathoneofhisown
eyes.‘Yes,’saidtheformerFirstCaptain.‘Showthem.’SargonclosedhisbrighteyesandheldhisarmstothesidesinimitationoftheCatherics’crucifiedgod.
Ifeltthetensionrising,nodifferentfromthewaytheairischargedinthemomentsbeforeastormbreaks.Whateverpsychiccontrolhewasexerting,Iraisedmyguardagainstit.‘Ceasethat,’Isaidsoftly.Whenhedidnotobey,Iliftedmyhandtowardshimwithashoveof
telekinesis.Sargon’seyessnappedopenashestaggeredthreestepsback,surprisewritacrosshisyoungfeatures.‘Issomethingwrong,Khayon?’askedAbaddon,drilyamusedbymyresistance.‘IhaveseenthefutureasAshur-Kaiwatchesit,divinedfromtheentrailsofthedeadandtheblood
spattersofthedying.IhavestaredintoscryingpoolswithmybrotherAhriman,andlistenedtothebabblingofgods,ghosts,anddaemons.Icarenothingforprophecyanditsendlesslyunreliablepathways.Whateveryouwishtoshowmeofthefuturewillbeofnointeresttome,andevenlessuse.’Sargonsmiledagain–thatsamebarely-thereexpression–andmadethechoppingmotionfor
‘negative’.‘Youdonotplantoshowusthefuture,prophet?’Again,thesamegesture.Negative.‘Thenwhat?’Abaddonansweredforthesilentseer.‘Thefutureisunwritten,Khayon,becausewehaven’tyetwritten
it.Ididn’tbringyouacrosstheGreatEyetobribeyouwiththewarp’spromisesofwhatmightcometopass.’‘Thenwhydidyoulureushere?’‘BecauseIchoseyou,fool.’Hemastereditwellwithasmile,butthefirsttasteoftempercreptinto
Abaddon’svoice.‘Ichoseallofyou.’‘Andwhyus?’Iasked.‘Forwhatpurpose?’AbaddonnoddedtoSargononcemore.‘Thatiswhatheistryingtoshowyou.’
Wearechildren–withtheambitionsofadultsandtheknowledgeofenlightenment–lookingacrossthe
CityofLightwitheyesthathaveseennothingofwar.Thenightishot.Thestarsarebright.Thewind,whenitbotherstobreathe,coolstheseason’ssweatonourskin.‘Whatiftheyrefuseus?’theotherboyasksme.‘ThenIwillbeanexplorer,’Itellhim.‘IwillwalktheWildLandsandbethefirsttofoundanewcity
onProspero.’Heisn’treassured.‘ThereisonlytheLegion,Iskandar.Tobeanythingelseistofailourpeople.’Isummonaglassofwatertomyhandfromacrossthetable,spillingsomeontheway.Mekharihasto
reachforhis,leaningoverthetabletogetit.Idonotcommentonit.Isensehisjealousybutdonotcommentonthat,either.We...
...arenolongerchildren.Wearemenwithgunsthatkickinourfists,swordsthatroar,anditisourdutytobringworldstotheirknees.Ourfather,acreatureofsuchpowerthatithurtstolookuponhim,stridesthroughourranks.Heaimsa
swordatthestonewallsofaforeigncity.‘Illuminatethem!’Mekhariisnexttomeinthebattleformation.Wemarchtogether,pullingonourhelmsinthesame
moment.TheCrimsonKingdemandsthatthiscityfallbysundown.Wewillmakeitso.We...
...gatherinachamberthesizeofacoliseum,listeningtoHorusLupercaldetailhowTerrawilldie.Thetacticalanalysisisover.Wearedeepintothespeeches,now.SomeoftheWarmaster’ssupremegeniusindealingwithhisfellowwarriorshaseroded.Oncehe
encouragedtheback-and-forthflowofhiswarriors’words,givingthemaforumforamendingbattleplansandairingtheirperspective.Tonight,thereispreciouslittleofsucheven-handedinteraction.Horussaysmuchandlistenstoolittle–doeshestillrealiseweareallhereforourownreasons?Thatthiswarmeanssomethingdifferenttoeachofus?Hatredseethesbeneathhisskin,andhebelievesweallsharehisgrievances.Heiswrong.MekharistandstomysideandAshur-Kaistandsatmyshoulder.Djedhorcarriesthecompanybanner,
holdingithighamongsomanyothers.HorusLupercalspeakswithagod’svoiceandagod’sconfidence.Hespeaksoftriumph,ofhope,and
eternalwallsfallingintodust.Iturntoface...
...‘Ahriman!’Ihavecriedhisnamehalfadozentimesalready.Heeitherdoesnothearorrefusestolisten.Heraises
hisarmstotheghost-chokedsky,cryingoutinexultation.Threeofourinnercirclehaveignitedinsavagepillarsofwarpfire,unabletobraceagainsttheforcesbeingsummoned.Twohavecomeapart,crumblingtotheircomponentparticlesastheirmortalformswereoverwhelmedbyAhriman’scarelesspsychicmustering.Tostandwithhimhereislikeshoutingintoastorm.Namesarechanted–hundredsuponhundredsofnames–buteventheothersarebreakingoffthe
mantrasandbeginningtostareatoneanother.Icannotrisksummoningakillingflameatopthepyramid.Inthisnexusofaethericenergy,itwouldkill
usall.Thepowergatheringaroundusbeneaththehaloedheavensstartslashinginspiteful,coruscatingarcs.Ihavealreadytriedshootinghim,buttheroaringwindstealstheboltsfromtheair.
Hisritual,hisRubric,isfailing.Ihavepreparedforthis.Saerncutstheairtomyright,rippingawoundintheworld.Mekhariisthefirstthrough,hisbolter
levelledatAhriman.Djedhorfollowshim.ThenVoros,TochenandRiochane.‘Endthismadness,’Mekharicallstoourcommander,shoutingabovethewind.Anarcoflashing,uncontrolledethericforcewhipcracksthroughthesideofthepyramid,shakingthe
platformbeneathourfeet.Oneofthesorcerersstillstandingisstruckblind.Anotherishurledtohisknees.‘Killhim!’Ishouttomymen.Morearrivethroughtheconduitwitheachheartbeat.‘KillAhriman!’
Theirboltersopenupindraconicchorus.Nothinghits.Nothingstrikeshome.Ahrimanscreamsatthesky.Mekhariisreachingforhim,hisgauntletedfingersscarcelyacentimetre
fromourcommander’sthroatwhentheRubricisunleashed.EnergyspearsoutfromAhriman’saura,carriedbyhismournfulcryas–atlast–herealiseshehaslostcontrol.AndthenMekharidies.Theyalldie.Everyoneofmywarriorsatopthepyramid’sapexplatform,beneaththeunfamiliarstarsofSortiarius’s
sky,suddenlyfallsstill.Mekharistandssilent,hisreachinghanddroppingonslackjoints.Iseehimstandingbeforeme,butnolongerfeelhimthere.ItisasthoughIamlookingintoamirrorandnotrecognisingthepersonstaringback.Somethingisthere,butitisentirelywrong.Mywarriorscrashtothegroundinarmouredheaps,Kheltaranheadcrestssmashingontotheglass
floor,sendingcobwebcracksspreading.ThelightofMekhari’sT-visorremainsactive,hisheadtiltedtofaceme.IwalktowardsAhrimanwithmyaxeinmyhand.Someone,somewhere,calls...
...‘Khayon.’Thereisnotrueshelterleftintheburningcity.IhidefromthekillersasbestIcan,crouchingwithmy
backtothetumbledownwallofaravagedstellarobservatory.Nearbyflameslickattheheatsensorsatthecornerofmyretinaldisplay.Theonlyweaponinmyhandsisacombatblade,usedforplungingintoarmourjoints.Ilostmychainswordsometimeago.Mybolterremainsmag-lockedtomyhip,ammo-starvedanduseless.ThesamevisualdisplaythattracksexternaltemperaturetellsmethatIhavebeenoutofammunitionforthreeminutesandfortyseconds.AsIcatchmybreath,Ifeelacoldsliverofunease.Thismakesnosense.ThisisProspero,myhome
world,onthedayitdiedtothefangsandclawsoftheWolves.ThiswasbeforeAhriman’sfailedRubric.ThiswasbeforewestoodinHorus’swarcouncil.Alloftheothermemoriescameintemporalprocession,butthisoneiscastoutofitsalignment.Iturn,andsuddenlyseewhy.Abaddoniswithme.Hestandsnearby,watchingwithacommander’spatience.Hewastheonewho
spokemyname–thewaywardwarriorImetaboardtheVengefulSpiritwithTelemachonandLheor,notthesoldier-princeofhistoricalrecord.Patchworkarmourgivesoffadullgleamasitreflectsthefirelight.Hecarriesnoweapon,yethedoesnotseemunarmed.ThreatflowsaroundhiminwaysIcannotquitediscern.Hehasadangeroussoul.Itshowsinhissmile,aswellashisgoldeneyes.‘Whyareyouhere?’Iaskhim,keepingmyvoicedownincasemywordsattractWolves.‘I’vebeenatyoursidethroughallofthis,’hereplies.‘IwitnessedyourchildhoodwithMekhariand
youryearsasalegionaryoftheThousandSons.Youareonlyseeingmenow.’‘Why?’‘Becausethismemorymatters.’Hecomestocrouchwithme.Inoticenoneoftherainingdustclingsto
hisarmourasitdoesmine.‘Thismemorydefinesyoumorethananyothermomentinyourlife,Khayon.’
Amanwouldnotneedtobeaprophettoknowthat.Hereiswheremyhomeworlddied.HereiswhereGyrefirsttooktheformofawolf.HereiswhereItookSaernfromthetwitchingfingersofaVILegionchampion.HereisthetreacherythatforcedtheThousandSonstosidewithrebelsandmadmen,againstignoranceanddeception.HereiswhereIcamewithinhoursofmyowndeath,untilLheorfoundmeintheashenruins.Tosaythisdaydefinesmeaboveanyotherishardlyarevelation.PerhapsIshouldbeuncomfortablewithAbaddonwalkingalongsidemethroughmymind.Theopposite
istrue:hispresenceiscalming,hispalecuriosityinfectious.Mytutelaryisgone–deadorlost,Ihavenowayofknowingwhich.WeoftheThousandSonskeep
theseincorporealspirit-creaturesasfamiliars.Eachonewassummonedfromthecalmesttidesofthewarpandboreusnohostility,theysimplydriftednearby,watchingandsilentlyadvising.Thiswas,ofcourse,theagebeforeweknewwhatdaemonstrulywere.MytutelarycalleditselfGyre;itwasagenderlessthingoffractalpatternsonlyvisibleatsunset,
speakinginthesoundofwindchimeswhenitdeignedtospeakatall.IhadnotseenitinthehourssincetheskycaughtfirewithSpaceWolvesdroppods.‘Youkeeplookingtothewest,’Abaddonpointsout.‘Thecityburnsnodifferentlytherethananywhere
else.’‘Mytutelaryvanishedthere.’‘Ah,yourfamiliar.’‘No.Nothereandnow.BeforeProsperoburnedwecalledthemtutelaries.Wedidnotknowwhatthey
reallywere.’Isaynothingforatime,lookingovermymanywoundsoncemore.‘Whyareyoureyesgold?’IaskAbaddon.Heclosesthemforamoment,touchinghisfingertipstothem.‘IlookedintotheAstronomicanfora
long,longtime,listeningtoitsversesandchoruses.TheEmperor’sLightdidthistome.’‘Doesithurt?’Hisansweringnodhidesmorethanitreveals.‘Alittle.Nooneeversaidenlightenmentcamewithout
cost,Khayon.’Ilookbackacrosstheburningstreet,whereacityofscholarsisdyingtotheaxesandfireofbarbarians.
Acataclysmthatwill,intime,educatebothLegions.HowveryaptAbaddon’swordsare.‘IhearWolves,’hesays.Ihearthem,too.Bootspoundingonthewhiteavenue,shatteringthemarbleroad.Iclutchmyknife
tighter,waiting,waiting.‘Howmanydidyoukillthatday?’Abaddonasksme.EveniftheWolvescannothearhim,Isaynothing.
Theywillsurelybeabletohearme.Ihearthemdrawclose,stalking,sniffingtheair.That’swhenImove,risinginasnarlofarmourjoints
anddust-shroudedceramite.MyknifetakesthefirstWolfunderthechin,punchingupthroughhisthroatandintohisskull.BlesstheVILegionforgoingtowarwithoutwearingtheirhelms.Theothersarealreadymoving.Chainswordswhineandbolterscrunchtoshoulder-guards.Barbaric
threatsleavethemouthsofignorantfools.Oathsofvengeance.Primalpromises.‘Youdonotunderstand,’Itellthem.TheyleapformethemomentIcasttheirbrother’sbodyaside.Thatiswhatkillsthem.NolongerdoI
seektocontrolthewarp’sbreath,shapingitintopreciseapplicationsofpsychicforce.NowIsimplyletitflowthroughme,doingasitwill.Theclosestpackmatefallstothegroundinabonelesstopple,decayinginsidehisarmour.Thewarp’stouchhasagedhimathousandyearsinthespanofasingleheartbeat.Thesecondignitesintopazflame,eatinghisfleshtothebonewithoutevenmarkinghisceramite.
Thelastofthemislesshot-blooded.Hekeepshisbolteronme.Iwanttotellhimthatheisafool,thatheandhisLegionaretoblameforallthis.Iwanttotellhimthatwearenotsinners,andthatthepowerwecallupon–thepowersthatwearebeingjudgedandsentencedforusing–areonlybroughtforthnowinthefighttosurvive.InrazingProspero,theSpaceWolveshaveleftusnochoicebuttocommittheverycrimetheyarepunishingusfor.HefiresbeforeIcanspeak.Akill-shotthatdoesnotkill,battedasidefrommyheadwithaflareof
telekineticinstinct.Itisn’tenough.Hebearsmedowntothegroundandsuddenlynothingmattersbuttheknivesinourhands.Minecarvesintohisarmpit,caughtfastinservosaswellasmusclemeat.IamcertainhishasmisseduntilIfeelthepressureofaTitan’sweightonmystomach.Thereisnotearingpainwhenabladeplungesintoyourflesh.Itisahammerblow,nomatterhowwellyouaretrainedtoignoreitandrecover.ForamomentIbaremyteethbehindmyfaceplate,shakingtheknifeimpaledinhisarm,hopingtoseverthemusclesandstealhisstrength.Thebreathfromhisdirtysmilefogsmyeyeslenses.Heleersdownatmewithawolf’sstareanda
man’sgrin.Retinalwarningsscreamofthedamagehisknifeisdoingtomyinsides.Bellywoundsaresavage.Foulnessandpoisonwillleakfromwoundedintestinesandbowels,eventuallycorruptinghealthyfleshandbloodbeyondwhatourgenhancedphysiologycanrepair.‘Traitor,’theWolfbreathesdownatme.‘Filthy.Traitor.’Thefirstmouthfulofbloodrunsupmythroatandovermylips,spillingdownmycheekstopoolinside
myhelm.Itstealsanyhopeofreplybeyondastrainedgurgle.Abaddonstillstandsnearby.IsensehimevenifIcannotseehim.Foramomentofbloodstained
desperationIconsiderdemandingthathehelpme.Theveryideaofitturnsmygurglingcurseintoagrin.Idonotbotherpullingmyknifefree.Myhandcrashesagainstthesideofhishead,nottobreakhisskull
butclawingforafistfulofhislong,greasyhair.Itcomesfreewiththesoundofrippingpaper.Freshspitflecksmyeyelensesashesnarls,butstillhisweightbearsdownonmewithcrushingforce.Afisttohisheaddoesnothing.Andanother.Andanother.OnthefourthIclutchthesideofhisskullandplungemythumbintohislefteye.Thewetcrunchisthe
sweetestsoundIhaveeverheard.Hedoesnotcryoutorshowanypainbeyondthewayhisferalrictusturnstoglass.Hisskullgivesaquietsnap,thenaloudercrack.Iambreakinghisheadapartinmyhand,andhe
refusestoevenacknowledgeit,nodifferentfromarabiddogwithitsjawslockedonprey.Morebloodsurgesupmythroatandrunsfrommymouthashecutsmeopenfromgrointosternum.Thepainisacidandlightningandfire,butnothingcomparedtothevicious,sickshameofhelplessness.Mysightisswimmingnow,reddenedbyblood.One-eyedandlaughing,theWolfkeepscutting.Ikeep
bringingupbloodintomyhelm.Itsloshesagainstmyface,ashotasboilingwater.Tirednesscoversmeinaqueasyblanket,andmyhandfallsfromitsgrip,backtothedust.Myknucklesclangagainsthisfallenbolter,discardedintheashes.IttakesthreetriesbeforeIclutchitinasureenoughgrip,andwithtremblingfingersIforcefeedhimthe
barrelofhisowngun.Itbreakshisteethonthewayinandblowsthebackofhisheadapartonthewayout.Hisweightatopmebecomesadeadman’sembrace.Irollhiscarcassoff,pullthebladefrommybelly,
anddisengagemyhelmtoletthebloodslapontothemarbleavenuebeneathme.Painrunsthroughmeintimewithmybeatinghearts.‘Howlongdidyouremainontheground?’Abaddonasksme.‘Notlong.’AlreadyItrytomove,trustingmylegionarygeneticstocopewiththedisembowelling
wound.Apulseofpsychicencouragementsendstheprocessintoaquickeneddance,settingmyfleshto
scabandre-knitfaster.‘Didn’tyoufightaSixthLegionchampiononthisday?’Abaddonasks.Hefollowsmedownthe
avenue,hisgoldeneyesshiningwithamusementatmylimp.Inod.‘EyarikBorn-of-Fire.Hewillfindmesoon.Verysoon.’‘Andhowdidyoubeathimwiththesewounds?’Distractionandpainpreventtheanswer.Sealingmywoundsrequiresfocus.Idonotknowhowlongpassesbeforetheshoutcomes.Itchillsmybloodnowjustasitdidonthat
distantday.Nowords,nothreats,nopromises.Justanululatinghowlfromthethroatofawarriorwhodemandshisfoesfacehim.Iturnslowly,madenowofachesandwoundsthatwillonedaybecomescars.Beforemestandsanaxe-
bearer,awarriorofdirtynobilitywreathedinacloakofsmoke-stainedwhitefur.Fenrisianrunesshowgoldagainsthiswar-plate’sgrey.Athissidewalksapiebaldwolfwithitsfurcastinmismatchingpatchesofbrownandgrey.Pinkfroth
coatsitsmaw.Redjuicedripsfromitsfangs.Thethingisthesizeofastallion.Evenfromhere,Icatchthereekofbloodonitsbreath.Familiarblood.ThebloodofmybrothersandtheinnocentsoulsofTizca.FornoreasonIcanunderstand,Isimplysay‘Begone’.Ithinkitisthebestmywearymindcanmuster.
ThestomachwoundisnotthefirstinjuryIhavesufferedtoday,merelythemostgrievous,andIdoubtthereisenoughbloodleftinmybodytofillaVILegiondrinkingskull.TheWolfLordwalkscloser.No,heprowls,fluidandfiercelikethebeastathisside.Theaxeinhis
handsisarelicoftruebeauty.Foraweary,wearymomentIthinkthereareworsedeathsthanonebroughtaboutbythatblade.Andthenhemakesthemistakethatcostshimhislife.‘IamEyarikBorn-of-Fire,’hesays.‘Thirstyis
myaxeforthebloodoftraitors.’Crippledornot,Istandtaller.TheFenrisiantonguestruggleswithGothic,butaddsagrimpoetrytothe
wordsratherthandetractingfromthem.Ihavealwaysenjoyedtheirlanguage.TohearaFenrisianspeakistohearasaga-poetthreatentocutyourthroat.‘IamIskandarKhayon,bornoftheworldyouaremurdering.AndIamnotraitor.’‘Saveyourliesfortheblackspiritsthatheedthem,sorcerer.’Hecomescloser,smellingmyweakness.
Thiswillbeanexecution,notaduel.Aboveus,theskychokesontheblacknessoftheburningcity.Boltersareadistant,unendingstaccato.
Pyramidsthathavestoodproudlyforthousandsofyearsareshatteredandbroughtdownbyself-righteousbarbarians.Nowthiswarlordcomestome,spittingmisguidedmadnessatmeundertheguiseofrighteousjudgement.‘I.Amnot.Atraitor.’‘LoudandlongdotheAllfather’swordsring.Louderandlongerthanthedeath-prayerofatraitor.’Thebeautifulaxerises.Idonotsummonfirefrombeyondtheveilorbegthespiritstoaidme.Ilookat
thewarriorwhowouldbemyexecutioner,bridgeaconduitbetweenourthoughts,andletmybitternessspillforthfrommymindintohis.Myhelpless,cornered,kicked-dogfurytakesrootinhisheart.Thewarpitselffloodsthroughthebondbetweenus,spillingthroughhisbloodandbones,breakinghimdownattheunseeablelevelofparticlesandatomicpatterns.Hedoesnotjustdiewherehestands.Iunmakehim,pullinghimapartdowntohisverycore.He
disintegrateswithinhisarmour,fleshturningtodustsofastthathisshadedoesn’tevenrealisehisbodyisdead.Hisghostclawsatmeasitdissolvesintothewarp’swinds.Mylastsightofhisspiritshowstheincomprehensionacrosshisetherealfeatures.ThelastsoundhemakesisawrenchingscreamashebeginstoburnintheSeaofSouls.
Andthenheisgone.Hisarmourtottersforwardstocrashagainsttheavenue,splittingthemarblewithadozenfreshcracks.Ilifthisaxetouseasacrutch.TheweaponiscalledSaernaccordingtotherunesalongitslength.I
speakahandfulofFenrisiandialects.Saernmeans‘Truth’.IhearAbaddonlaughing,clappinghisgauntletedpalmstogether.‘Suchheroism!’hemocksmewitha
smile.Anysenseofvictoryisshort-lived.Thehugewolfbearsmetothegroundinatumbleofwoundsand
weaklimbs.Ihavenochancetodefendmyself.Jawsthatcouldswallowmyheadwholegougeintomybreastplateandshoulder-guard.Itsfangsgothroughceramitelikeironknivesthroughsilk.Thething’sweightuponmeistheweightofaRhinotroopcarrier.Armourcomesfreeinaviciouscrack,andbloodyfleshripsawaywithit.Iamtoocold,toosore,tofeelitasfreshpain.Andthenthewolfstops.Itjuststops,standingabovemewithmybloodrunningfromitsteeth.The
creature’sfleshripplesbeneaththesmoke-stainedfur.Lacerationspeelopen,revealingmuscles,bones,organs.Myeyesarewideopenwhenthebeastburstsopenaboveme,raininggoreineverydirection.Viscera
stingsmyfaceandburnswiththesaltinessofboilingseawateronmytongue.Thepressureagainstmychestisgone.Ashadowofsomethingghostsawayfromme,butforseveralsecondsIcandonothingbutstareatthesky,needingtimetosalvageenoughstrengthtorise.Thewolfstandsseveralmetresawayfromme–blackwhereitsfurhadbeengrey-white;predatory
intelligenceinitsstarewherebeforetherehadbeenonlybestialcunning.IknowthatstarethoughIhaveneverseenitbefore.Iknowthemindbehindit.Iknowthespirit
animatingthedeadwolf’shalf-fleshedghost.‘Gyre?’Thewolfstalkstomyside,submissiveinitsgreeting.She–andthisistheveryfirsttimeIseeGyreas
distinctly,unarguablyfemale–givesawolfishwhine.Gonearethefractalcreature’swind-chimewords,yetsheistoonewtothisstolenformtocommunicateinsilentspeech.Ifeelaflareofwordlessdevotionfromherasthewolf’shearttaintsthecoldgeometryofthedaemon’sspirit.Fromnowonshewillbeneitherwolfnordaemon,butsomethingofboth.‘Aloyalcreature,’saysAbaddon,watchingfromnearby.ThreeThunderhawksscreamoverhead,their
vultureshadowsflickeringacrossourarmourplating.‘Itsavedyourlife.’‘She,’ItellhimasIrunmybloodstainedgauntletsthroughGyre’sblackfur.‘Not“it”.She.’
SECRETS
Iwasthefirsttoawaken.TelemachonandLheorstoodinbonelessslouches,theformerwithhisheadtiltedforwardsinmimicryofslumber,thelatterstaringatnothingwithglazedeyesandpartedlips.Theunspoolingoftheirmemorieswasamutedhuminthebackofmymind.Icouldsensetheirrecollectionswithoutmakingoutanydetail.SargonmadeahandgestureinLegion-standardbattle-sign.‘Yes,’Irepliedsoftly.‘Iamwell.’NeverbeforehadIexperiencedsuchaclearpsychicvision,butSargon’sartistrywasinhowitdidn’t
feellikeaviolation.Abaddonhadwalkedwithmethroughmymemories,sharingmyregardformybrothersbeforetheyturnedtodustandwitnessingthebirthofmywolfinthemomentIcameclosesttodeath.YetIdidnotbegrudgehimwhathesaw,norfeelthreatenedbyit.Hesawmanyofthekeymomentsinmylife,livingthemwithme,yetmydeepestreflectionsremainedsacrosanct.ThatspokeofbreathtakingcontrolovertheArt.Perhapsnostaggeringdegreeofpower,butincrediblediscipline.‘Iwasrighttochooseyou,’AbaddonsaidfromwherehestoodbySargon’sside.‘Allyou’veseen,
Khayon.Allyou’vedone.Thewayyoufightagainstrepeatingthemistakesofthepast.Youwearyourfather’scobaltandhisbloodrunsthroughyourveins,butweallhaveachancetobecomesomuchmorethanourfathers’sons.You,I,andthoselikeus.Youcravetrue,honestbrotherhood–amanwhowouldformsuchbondswithdaemonsandaliensisamanwhowasborntobeamongkindred.’Inarrowedmyeyes,unsureifhemockedmeornot.Nefertarihadexpressedthesamesentiment,though
inprofoundlydifferentwords.Atmyglare,hetappedhisfingertipstohisheart,justasFalkusalwaysdid.‘Imeannoinsult.Imissit,
too,Khayon.ImissaLegion’sunityanditsbondsofloyalty.Itsexplicitpurpose.Itsfocusedpursuitofvictory.’Thosewerestrangewordstohearfromthewarriorwhoseabandonmentofhisbrothershadbecomea
legendinitsownright.Isaidasmuchtohim,earningacontemplativesmile.‘Nowyou’rebeingstubborn.YouknowofwhatIspeak.ImisswhataLegioncoulddo,andthefactit
wasempoweredtodoit.Allofourforcesnow...TheyareLegionsinname,colourandthedregsofculture,buttheyareahorde,notanarmy,linkedbyfadingloyaltiesandfightingtosurvive.Oncetheywereboundbybrotherhoodandfoughtonlytowin.Ourkindnolongerwagewar,weraidandpillage.Nolongerdowemarchinregimentsandbattalions,butscatterintopacksandwarbands.’Ilaughed.Ididnotmeantomockhim,butIcouldnotholdthelaughterback.‘Youbelieveyouarethe
onetochangeallthat,Abaddon?’‘No.Noonecanchangeitnow.’Zealousfervourburnedinhisgoldeneyes.Theveinsbeneathhisskin
pulsedblacker.‘Butwecanembraceit,mybrother.HowmanyamongtheNineLegionscryouttobepartofatrueLegiononcemore?Areyousovainastobelieveyouarealoneinyourambitions,Tizcan?WhatofValicartheGraven,moreloyaltohisMartianspider-queenandtheworldtheyshare,thantotheIronWarriors?WhatofFalkusKibre,willingtolaydownhislifetomurderHorusReborn,turningtoyouforaid?WhatofLheor–thegene-childofthatblood-madavatarAngron,whoneverboreashredofloveforhisownsons?EvenTelemachonstandswithyou,andyoudeceiveyourselfbypretendingit’spurelytheresultofyourewritinghismind.You’vestolenhiscapacitytosensepleasurewithoutyourpermission,butyou’venotrewrittenhisentirepsyche.Hewouldbeatruebrotherifyou’dallowit,ratherthanaprisoner.’‘Youcannotknowthatforcertain.’‘Evenbirthisuncertain,Khayon.Nothingiscertainbutdeath.’HisdeflectionmademylipscurlinasnarlalltooreminiscentofGyre.‘Sparemetheschoolroom
philosophy.WhyshouldItrustTelemachon?’‘Becausehe’slikeus,achingforthesamepurposewedesire.He’sthesonofabrokenLegion,thesame
asyou.TheThirdLegionislonglosttohonourlessexcessandmeaninglessindulgence.OncetheEmperor’sChildrentookpleasureinvictory.Nowtheyseekpleasureatanycost,hungeringfortormentovertriumph.ThousandsandthousandsofwarriorsinsidetheEyecryoutforsomethingworthfightingfor,Khayon.ThisisnotthefirsttimeI’vewalkedinyourthoughts.MypilgrimagewithSargonwasaboutmorethanlearninghowthetidesoftheEyeebbandflow.Itwasaboutseekingthosewhowouldstandwithme.’Isaidnothinginthefaceofhispassionatedefiance.What,really,wastheretosay?Helaidmy
directionlesslifebareandgaveanofferofhopeinplaceofthehollowness.IhadneverimaginedIwouldhearanotherlegionaryspeaksuchwords,letaloneonewhohadlongagowalkedintomyth.‘There’sstrengthandpurityinwhatwe’vebecome,’saidAbaddon.‘There’sasavagehonestyinthe
NineLegions’warbandsnow.Theyfollowwarlordsoftheirchoosinginsteadofthoseassignedtothem.TheycreatetraditionsrootedintheculturesoftheirparentLegions,orcompletelydefytheiroriginsaccordingtotheirownwhims.Iadmirethatunshackledfreedomandhavenodesiretowalkbackfromwherewestand,sorcerer.I’mspeakingoftakingwhatwehaveand...refiningit.Perfectingit.’Ifounditdifficulttospeak.Thewordslayuponmytongue,yetforcingthemforwardswasnoeasytask.
TogivethemvoicewouldbetospeakthesamerighteousmadnessthatAbaddonsofiercelydeclared.‘Youdonotjustmeanforminganewwarband.YoumeananewLegion.Anewwar.’Hisgazeneverleftmine.Ifeltitholdingmyeyestohis,felttheambitiousheatoffeveredthoughts.‘Anewwar,’heagreed.‘Therealwar.Wewerebornforbattle,Khayon.Weweremadetoconquerthe
galaxy,nottorothereinHellanddieuponourbrothers’blades.WhoarethearchitectsoftheImperium?Whofoughttopurgeitsterritoryofaliensandexpanditsborders?Whobroughtrebelliousworldstoheelandslaughteredthosewhorefusedthelightofprogress?Whowalkedfromonesideofthegalaxytotheother,markingtheirpassageinatrailoftraitorousdead?ThisisourImperium.Builtacrosstheworldsweburned,overboneswebroke,withthebloodweshed.’Whatstunnedmemostwasnothispassion,norevenhisambition,thoughbothwerebreathtakingin
theirscope.No,whatstunnedmemorethananythingelsewashismotive.Ihadexpectedafailure’sbitterness,notachampion’sidealism.Hedidnotwantvengeance,whetheritwaspettyorultimatelyjustified.Hewantedwhatwasoursbyright.HewantedtoshapetheImperium’sfuture.‘Youseeit,too,’hesaid,baringhisteethinasnarlinggrin.LiketherestoftheJustaerin,histeethwere
engravedwithCthonianrunesoffortitudeandresolve.Theyseemedveryaptallofasudden,inthesmileofapilgrimreturningtohispeopletobecomeacrusader.‘Youfeelitnow,don’tyou?’
‘Anewwar,’Isaidslowly,softly.‘Onenotbornofbitternessnorfoundedonrevenge.’Abaddonnodded.‘TheLongWar,Khayon.TheLongWar.NotapettyrebellionswallowedbyHorus’s
prideandhishungerfortheTerranThrone.Awarforthefutureofmankind.HoruswouldhavesoldthespeciestothePantheonforthechancetositontheGoldenThroneforasingleheartbeat.Wecannotallowourselvestobeusedthewayhewas.ThePowersexistandwecan’tpretendotherwise,butnorcanweallowasacreddutytodevolveintosuchweakness,asHorusdid.’‘Prettywords,’Lheorsaidfrombehindme.Iturnedback–bothheandTelemachonwererestoredto
themselves,afactIhadnotsenseduntilnow.DoubtlesstheyhadheardmostofAbaddon’sardentwords.Lheor’sdark-skinnedandstitch-ruinedfeaturesweregivenovertoaruthlesssolemnityIhadneverseenbefore.HetriedtosoundmockingbutIbelieveweallheardtheedgeofawethere.Telemachonsaidnothing.Theforgedbeautyofhissilverdeathmaskstaredatourhostinsilent
judgement.Iwonderedwhathewouldhavesaidtoallofthis,hadInotrewrittenhismind.Abaddonseemedtosensemyreflections,forhesaid,‘Youhavetofreetheswordsman,Khayon.
You’vestolenmorethanhisaggressionagainstyou.’‘Irealisethat,butwewouldkilleachotherifIfreedhim.’Hesmiledthen,anditwasnolongerquitesoindulgent.Herewasaglimpseoftheirontyrantbeneath
thecharismaticwarlord.‘Youwishtotakeyourfirststepsinthisnewerawithacollararoundyourbrother’sthroat?’‘Firststeps?Ihaveagreedtonothingyet,Ezekyle.Anddespiteyourwords,Isenseyouareholding
backaswell.Youhavebeenaloneonyourpilgrimageforsolongthatyouarebarelyreadytotrustanyoneelse.’Hestaredintomyeyes.Ifelthimaccedetomyjudgement,lettingitliebetweenusunchallenged.‘Revelationisaprocess,Khayon.IamwiserthanIwasduringmyfather’srebellion.Ihaveseena
greatdealmoreofwhatthegalaxycanoffer,aswellaswhatliesbehindreality’sveil.ButI’mnotarrogant,mybrother.Iknowthere’sagreatdeallefttodo,andagreatdeallefttolearn.AllIknowforcertainisthatI’mfinishedwithmyyearsofwalkingalone.SonowIreachouttothosemostlikeme–inthought,inaction,andinambition.Idonotofferanyofyouaplaceinatyrant’splan.WhatIofferisaplaceatmysideaswefindapathtogether.’‘Brotherhood,’Lheorsaidquietly.‘Brotherhoodforthebrotherless.’Abaddontappedhisheartagain.AstheSonsofHoruslegionaryfellsilentIturnedtoLheor,notinghowhishandsshook.‘Whatdidyou
dream,brother?’‘Manythings.ThewaronTerrawasoneofthem.’TheWorldEaterlookeddownathisgauntlets,
watchinghishandsclosingandopeningwiththepurringchorusofknuckleservos.JustasIhadre-livedthemomentIalmostdiedonProspero,Lheorhadobviouslyre-livedthemomenthelosthishands.Ididnotforcemyselfintohismind.Forthefirsttime,hewelcomedmethere.Isawhimatopawallof
stonebattlements,commandinghiswarriorsanddirectingtheirstormoffirewithbayingcalls.Thechatterofinnumerableheavybolterswasthestutteringvoiceofamechanicalgod.Theskywasatempestofhowlingblackshadowsasgunshipsstrafedoverhead.TheImperialFistsadvancedbehindlayeredplasteelboardingshields,bolterskickingintheirhands.
Lheor,attheforefrontofhiswarriors,levelledthemassiveweightofhisplasmacannonattheenemy.Itgaveitsdraconicwhineasitcharged,fusiontakingplacewithinitscabledguts.Onebolt.Onemomentofmisfortune.Asingleshellcrackedagainstthecannon’smagneticaccelerator
coils,withthekindofimpactthattheweaponhadenduredahundredtimesandmore.Butthistime,jaggeddebrisclatteredthroughanintakevalve,chokingthecannontheveryseconditwasprimedto
releaseitspayload.Theweapondetonatedinhishands.Theexplosionthrewhimclear,butbathedseveralofhismenin
dissolvingspillsofvioletfire.Lheorsmashedbackagainstthebattlementwall,leftbehindintheadvanceofhissurvivingmen.TheNailswerebiting;hiswarriorshadnotevennoticedhe’dfallen.Icouldnotsensehispaininthememory,norevenseeitwithhisfacecoveredbythescorchedhelm.
ButIsawhimlookdownathishands...whichwerenolongerthere.Hiseruptingcannonhadvaporisedthem.Bothofhisarmsendedattheelbows.Ipulledbackfromhismind.AsIdidso,hegaveaviolentshudder.‘Whatofyou,Telemachon?’Iasked.‘Whatdidyousee?’‘Oldregrets.Nothingmore.’Icouldhaveaskedwhathemeantorsimplypulleditfromhismemory,butthedistantdignityinthe
swordsman’svoicedissuadedmefromdoingeither.AfterseeingLheor’sdarkesthour,IhadlittledesiretodwellinTelemachon’smisery.Gyre.Hernamecameunbidden.Afeverishreminder.AsIturnedaway,Abaddon’shandfellonmyshoulder-guard,carefulbutcommanding.‘Whereareyougoing,sorcerer?’Imethiseyes,refusingtobecowed.‘Tofindmywolf.’Bothofusturnedatthegentleclangofceramiteonceramite.Sargondraggedhisknucklesalonghis
forearm–anothergestureinLegion-standardbattle-sign.Themotionforone’sownblood.Heknewofmybondwithher,fromthebridgeofHisChosenSonaswellasseeingintomythoughts.‘Whereisshe?’Iaskedhim.Theprophet’sfreakishlyyouthfulfeaturesturnedtoAbaddon.Hemadetheleft-handedgesturefor
‘engagetarget’followedbypalmoverhisheart.Severalmoresignsfollowed–onesIdidnotrecogniseastraditionalbattlecant.Abaddon’shandliftedfrommyshoulder.‘Sargonhasyourwolf.Sheattackedhim,andisnow...
incapacitated.’Imovedthemomenthesaidthelastword.AjamdharaisatraditionalTizcanweapon,somewherebetweenadaggerandashortsword,witha
handledgripandabladethatextendsfromthebearer’sfistedknuckles.ItisnotuniquetoProsperobyanymeans–otherhumanculturesonotherworldscallsimilarweapons‘pushknives’orpunchdaggers,aswellasthesoveya,ulu,qattariand–inatleastonedialectofOldInduasian–thekatar.MyjamdharahadagripmadefromthethighboneoftheTizcanastrologicalphilosopherUmerahta
PalhapadosSujen,who,uponhisdeath,insistedthathisbonesbeoffereduptotheThousandSonsLegiontobereshapedintoritualtoolsandtakenamongthestarshesoadored.Thiswasn’tuncommonamongtheProsperineintellectualandculturalelite.Itwasconsideredagreat
honourtobe‘buriedwithinthevoid’inthisway,stillcontributingtothefutureofmankindevenbeyondthegrave.Theweapon’sbladewasblack,fromalloyingadamantiumwithmybirthworld’snativemetals,andthe
metalitselfhadspirallingrunicmandalascarefullyhand-etchedintothesurface,replicatingoneofUmerahta’slastandmostrenownedlecturesinminuteprint.Ithadbeenatreatiseonthenatureoftheuniverse.Everyfewmonths,Iwouldfindmyselfreadingbythefalsecandlelightofillume-globesoncemore,meditatingonitsmeaning.IhadbeengiventhejamdharabyAshur-Kaiuponmyacceptanceintohisphilosophicalcoven,onthe
lastdayofmyapprenticeshiptohim.TheThousandSonshaditsprimaryCultsbasedoneachwarriors’
psychicexpertise,buttheywereconsideredmerelythemostobvious–andmostmilitant–tierinalayeredsociety.BeneaththeCultswerephilosophicalsalons,scholarlycircles,symposia,andritualordersthatweremoreconcernedwithmattersofenlightenmentthanmilitarystructure.‘Iamproudofyou,’hehadsaid–once,andneveragain–ashehandedmetheblade.‘Youstand
amongstequalshere,Sekhandur.’InthatmomentIhadpressedtheflatofthedaggertomyforehead,closedmyeyes,andthankedhimina
silentpulseoftelepathy.Itwasthebladethatmarkedtheendofmyapprenticeship.ItwasthebladethatsignalledIwasreadyforinductionintotheArt’sdeepermysteries.Anddecadeslater,whenAbaddontoldmehisprophethadincapacitatedmywolf,itwasthebladethat
IheldintothesideofSargon’sneck.Somedeathsresonate.Theyaremorechargedwithemotionthanothers,andforcearuthlesscommunion
betweenslayerandslain.Fewdeathsresonateasmuchascuttingaman’sthroat.Thereisnofeeling,andnosound,quitelikeit.Thewetgarglesthattrysohardtobecomegasps.Thewaythethroatstillachestowork,lungsquiveringandstrainingforbreaththatcannotcome.Theruthless,hatefulintimacyofhimdyinginyourarms.Thedesperatepanicinhiseyes,ashisquiveringlimbsbegintocollapsebeneathhim.Thepleading
withinthatpanic,asthebrain’sfinalfunctionsscreamthatno,no,thiscannotbe,thisisnotfair,thiscannotbehappening.Thelimp,patheticfuryasherealisesitis,andheishelplesstochangeit.Itisdone.Heisdead.Allthatremainsisforhimtodie.ThiswasthedeathIofferedtoSargon.ItiswhatranthroughmythoughtsasIthreatenedtoslicethrough
hisalready-ruinedthroat.Howfineitwouldfeeltoendhislifeinthatstrangledsongofhelplessgargles.Forhispart,hestoodstill,utterlystunned.EvenLheorflinchedatmyreaction,hisfacespasminginreactiontotheNails’suddenbite.Telemachon
watchedinmaskedsilence,thoughhissurprisewaspalpableintheairbetweenus.Abaddonliftedahandslowly,hisgoldeneyeswider,hisbodylanguagestillexudingcontrol.I’dshockedhim,butherefusedtoletitgetthebetterofhim.‘Whereisshe?’Iaskedthroughclenchedteeth.‘Khayon,’Abaddonstarted.WHEREISSHE,Ipulsed,sharpasaspearthroughtheskull.Sargonshowednoreactionatall,severed
ashewasfrommythoughts,butAbaddonandTelemachonstaggeredback,clutchingtheirheads.Lheorwentdownasifaxed,hisnoserunningwithblood.‘Khayon...’Abaddontriedagain,blinkingawaythepaininhissinusesfrommysavagetelepathy.‘I
underestimatedyourloyaltytothedaemon.Iapologiseforthat.Butreleasetheoracleandwewillfindyourwolf.YouknowImeanyounoharm.Nottoyou,yourbrothers,oryourfamiliar.’ItshamesmenowthatIdidnotreleaseSargonatonce,buttrustnolongercameeasilytoanywarriorof
theNineLegions.IheldthebladeagainsttheWordBearer’sfleshforanotherfewheartbeatsbeforefinallyreleasinghimwithalow,wetgrowlthatwouldhavedoneGyreproud.‘Suchatemper.’Abaddonforcedasmile.ImovedtohelpLheortohisfeet.Aswegrippedeachother’shands,Ihauledhimupagain.Heworethe
WarGod’ssigilcastinbrassonthebackofhisgauntlet–for‘goodluck’,healwaysclaimed,despitecarryinglittleinthewayoffaith.Ifeltitradiatingheatthroughhishand,eventhroughmyarmour.ThetwitchintheleftsideofhisfacewasasbadasIhadeverseenit.Insteadofhumanthoughtprocess,hisbrainproducednothingbutwearypain.HewasfightingtheNailsforcontrolofhisownflesh.‘Nnnh,’hesaid.Spitmarkedhislips.‘Nnkh.’‘Forgiveme,brother.’
‘Nnh.’Awarenessfilteredbackintohisblackeyes.HecursedinNagrakali,andsaidnomore.IroundedonSargon.‘Whereismywolf?’
TheWordBearertookmetoherwithoutresistance.Thesilenceprevailingbetweenallofuswasthefirstrealawkwardnesssinceourarrival.Questionsflowedthroughme,questionsIachedtoask.HowwelldidAbaddontrulyknowthisoracle?WhatotherabilitiesdidSargonpossess?IwasstillcertainIcouldoverwhelmhimifnecessary,butwhateversealedhimawayfromtelepathyspokeofpsychicmanipulationonalevelIwouldstruggletoundo.WhathadLheorandTelemachonseenwhentheywalkedwithintheirownmemories?IwouldhavegivenmuchtoseetheinsidesoftheirmindsasAbaddonhaddonewithmine.Ineverletanyofthesequestionsreachmytongue.Forallofhisgentilityandcompliance,Sargon
unnervedme.Hefeltlikeaweaponheldagainstthebackofmyneck.MorethanonceIcaughthimcastingsimilarglancestomeandIknewheharbouredsimilartensions.Walkingnexttohimwaslikestandingnearadistortedreflection.ThoughIhaddisciplineandtraininginwieldingtheArt,mygreatestassethadalwaysbeenmyunrestrainedpower.Sargon,conversely,appearedtobeapreciseandexactingpractitioner,relyingonabsolutecontrolinsubstitutionforwhateverhelackedinrawforce.AndAbaddonwatchedusboth,somethinglikeamusementinhisinhumaneyes.Therigidatmosphere
betweentheoracleandmeseemednottotroublehimatall.WhenwereachedGyre,Iwentdowntoonekneebeforeher.Sargonhadherboundneartohis
meditationcell,slumberinginacorridor.Thatunnervedmemorethanifshehadbeenbanished,fordaemonsneednosleeptosustainthem.NeverinallouryearstogetherhadIseenhersleepasatruewolfwould.Aroundher,carvedintothedeck,werejaggedColchisianrunesthatmademyeyesache.Theywere
hastythings,blade-cutintothedarkirontocontainthewolfandkeepheratbay.IfeltmyselfscowlingatSargonevenasIreluctantlyadmiredhisrushedhandiwork.Hecouldhave
destroyedher.Insteadhehadtakencaretoneutraliseherwithoutcausinglastingharm.Iwasundernoillusionsthathehaddoneitthroughanyactofmercy;itwassimplegoodsense.IfIhadfeltherdieIwouldhavetornhimapart,nomatterwhetherhewasAbaddon’stamedoracleornot.Ididnotaskhimtoreleaseher.Istoodontopofoneofthecarvedrunes,coveringitwithmyboot.
GyreopenedherwhiteeyesthemomentIbroketheritualcircle.Hertransfixionhadmoretodowithstasisthansleep,forshedidnotrisewithsluggishthoughtsortiredlimbs.Themomentshewoke,sheflashedherteethatSargon.Tome,Isent.Sheroseandobeyed,paddingcloser,hereyesneverleavingtheWordBearer.Iwanthisblood.Youshouldhaveknownbetterthantoattackanothersorcerer,Gyre.Ibarelyattackedhim!Herthoughtwasacidicandinsistent.Hestolemyvoice,breakingmybondto
you.OnlythendidIturnclawsandfangsuponhim.IlookedoveratSargoninthedarknessofthecrewcorridor.Abaddon,LheorandTelemachonstood
withhim.‘Isallwell?’Abaddonasked.Hismetalliceyesreflectedthedimlightwithathreateninggleam.I
decidedIwoulddealwithSargon,onewayoranother,inmyowntimeandonmyownterms.IdidnotneedtoraisemygrievancewiththeformerFirstCaptain.Iwasnotachild-apprentice,runningtohismentor.‘Alliswell,’Ireplied.
‘Good.Ifyouarewilling,I’daskafavourofyou,Khayon.’Allofusturnedtohimatthoseunexpectedwords.‘Ask.’Hegavearuefulsmile,oneofajestsharedbetweenbrothers.‘TakemebacktotheTlalocwithyou.
It’sbeentoolongsinceIspokewithFalkus.’
Threeofusweresettoreturn:Abaddon,Gyreandmyself.TelemachonandLheorelectedtoremainwithSargonaboardtheVengefulSpirit,exploringtheship.‘BewareSargon,’Iwarnedthemboth.‘Ilikehimlittleandtrusthimless.’Lheormerelyshrugged,butTelemachon’swordlessdispleasureradiatedatme.‘Whathashedoneto
earnyourdislike?’theswordsmanasked.‘HisstainisalloverwhatbefellFalkusandtheothers.Heisresponsibleinsomeway.’‘That’sasafeguess,’Lheorallowed.TheWorldEaterofferedoncemoretocomebackwithmeincase
Falkusandhispossessedbrethrenneededamoreviolenthand.‘No,AbaddonandIwillgoalone.Thefewersoulfiresburningthere,thebetter.TheSecondbornare
stilllikelytobeunstable.Andhungry.’‘Goodluck,brother.’ItwasthefirsttimeLheorcalledmebrother–afactIdidnotmentiontohimthereandthen.Iwould
remindhimcenturieslater,whenhisbloodwasrunningintotheTuvaRiverontheworldofMackan.‘Thankyouforstayingwithus,Lheor.You,Ugrivianandtheothers.’Ithoughthemightsmile,butitturnedouttobenothingmorethanatwitchbroughtonbyfacialticsand
flawedmuscles.‘Awaywithyou,sentimentalfool.’HebangedhisfistagainsttheImperialisonhischestplateinthe
amusedechoofasalute.‘GofindFalkus.’AndsoIdid.WithAbaddonandmywolfatmyside,IreturnedtotheTlaloctofindthewarriorwho
hadbeenmyfriend.
Ourarrivalgeneratedacertaindegreeofexcitement.AswedisembarkeddowntheThunderhawk’sgang-ramp,Nefertariwaswaitingforus–aswasAshur-Kai,Ugrivianandhiswarriors,andthreedozenRubricaeinorderlyranks.AlleyeslockedontoAbaddon.Heborethescrutinywithease,evenofferingaflourishingbowtothe
hordeofstaringfacesandfaceplates.Idon’tbelieveit,Ashur-Kaisenttome.Ifyoufindhispresencedifficulttobelieve,youshouldseewhathasbecomeoftheVengefulSpirit.It
isamonumenttomadness.Imustseeit,hepulsedwithnosmallurgency.Youwill.Thisisfarfromover,Ashur-Kai.Abaddonhasplansofhisown.PlansbeyondlayingsiegetotheCanticleCity?Farbeyondit.Intriguing.Wewillspeaklater,heassuredme.Wewill.Onematterofnote,however–Sargonlives.Theoraclefledthedisasterthatafflicted
FalkusandtheDuragakalEsmejhak.HiseagernesstoboardtheVengefulSpiritbecamealiteralhunger.Tospeakwiththeoracleandshare
propheticvisions...ThathungerwasallthemorekeeninthewakeoftheSolarPriest’sdestruction.Soon,Ipromisedhim.Soon.
Abaddongreetedeachofourwarriorsinturn,byname.Herewasanotherglimpseattheskilledcommanderthathidbeneaththecarelesspilgrim.EachhourIspentinhispresence,IfelthimcomingbacktohimselfinawayIhadnotbelievedpossible.Moreandmorehisbehaviourreinforcedtheideathathehadbeenwaitingforthis–waitingforus.Everyfighter,betheyatribalwarriororaprofessionalsoldier,feelsasliverofhonouratbeing
personallynamedandmarkedoutbyacommander.AbaddonnotonlynamedUgrivianandhismen,herecountedseveraloftheirbattlecompany’sdeedsduringtheGreatCrusadeand–tomylesseningsurprise–intheyearsinsidetheEyewhentheyhadservedaspartoftheFifteenFangs.Thisisnopilgrim,sentAshur-Kai.Thisisawarlord.Aleaderofmen.Alreadyheearnsthekinshipof
Lheor’swarriors.Ashur-Kaiwasnotwrong.Theeasybondsofthewarrior-bornhadthemallchucklingtogetherand
embracingingladgreeting,wristtowrist.SoseamlesswasAbaddon’sbondingwiththesemen,notthroughmanipulationordeceptionbutsimple,honestcharm.Ithinkifhehadneededtoresorttomanipulation,Iwouldhavethoughthimcheapandbrazen.Instead,Iwasreassured.IalsothoughtofhowAbaddonhadsaidheneededme,howhehadwatchedmeandchosenme,howhe
wantedmeathissidethroughthepromiseofnewbrotherhood.IreflectedthenhowhehadalreadyearnedthekinshipofmorethanjustLheor’swarriors.EvenIwasincredulousasAbaddonthengreetedeveryoneofmyRubricaebyname.Ashur-Kaiwas
lessprepared,andshowedhisshockplainacrosshisalbinofeatures.EachRubricae’snamewasemblazonedacrosstheirshoulder-guardorbreastplate,butAbaddontookhistimewitheach,notinghonoursthenow-lostwarriorshadearnedduringtheGreatCrusade,orbattlestheyhadfoughtintheEyeaftertheSiegeofTerra.WeoftheLegionesAstartespossesseideticmemoriesandpictographicrecall.ThattheFirstCaptainof
themostillustriousLegionwouldhaveaccesstopersonnelarchivesoftheotherprimarch’sforceswasnottoodifficulttocountenance,butthefacthehadaddedtothatloreduringtheyearsofhispilgrimageacrosstheGreatEyewasnothinglessthanarevelation.Norwasittheonlyrevelation.WithallsoulsbutmyselfandAshur-Kai,ourRubricaestoodin
impassivesilence,notevenacknowledginganyotherlivingbeing’sexistence.NotsowithAbaddon.Whenheaddressedthemtheyturnedtheirhelmetedheadstohiminslowgrinds,andIfeltthefaintestthreadofawarenesscobwebbingbetweenthem.Ashur-Kai’svoicewassuddenlyicywiththreat.Heisadangertous.Howcantheashendeadreact
tohim?Idonotknow,brother.Whatifhe...Doyoubelievehecancommandthem?Idonotthinkso.Thisfeelsmorelikerecognition,somehow.NotrulershipasyouorIholdover
them.Areyouwillingtosaythatwithcertainty,Khayon?Ididnotanswerhim.TherewasfartoomuchaboutAbaddonIcouldnotdiscernorpredict.Everythinghedoesshiverswithsignificance.Ididnotanswerthateither.Ashur-Kai’sfascinationwithdestinyandprophecytendedtotainthimwith
thetouchofmelodramafromtimetotime.Icouldfeelhisawe,thoughIdidnotshareit.AbaddonhadreachedNefertari,whostoodapartfromtheorderedranksofLegionesAstarteswarriors.
Asuddensurgeofcrudedisgustrosefromhisguardedthoughts,thestrongestemotionIhadsensedfromhimyet.Herveryinhumanityrepulsedhim,asitdidsomanyofus,thoughhekeptthatrevulsionfromshowing.
Thewingedeldarenduredhisscrutinywithemotionless,aliencomposure.‘TheMaidenofCommorragh,’hegreetedher.‘Youmakethatsoundlikeatitle,’shereplied.Thebioluminescenttalonsofcrystalthatservedasher
gauntlet’sfingertipsclickedandclackedtogetherassheshiftedherstance.‘ManyamongtheLegionsknowofKhayon’seldar,hidingfromherpeopleintheheartofherenemy’s
kingdom.Don’tyouhunger,Nefertari?Doesn’tthesoul-thirsttearatyounightafternight?’Thewordswerepettybaiting,butsomehowhistonewasnot.Thewayhespokerobbedanyteasefrom
thevenomousquestions.Shegracedhimwiththeshadowofasmile,andwalkedtowardsme.‘ForgivemyGothic,’Abaddoncalledafterher,‘despitekillinghundredsofyourbrothersandsisters,I
neverlearnedthetonguesspokenbyyourkind.’Nefertari’ssmirkwasedged.Sheherselfwasaknifewithasmile.‘Ilikehim,’shesaidbeneathher
breath.Abaddonturnedtomeafterhisgreetingsweredone.‘WhatofTelemachon’smen?’‘Ashur-Kaitookseveralprisonerswhentheyboardedusduringthestorm,’Ibegan.‘Theyaregone.’Nefertaribrokein,stillwearinghersmile.‘TheirbodieshanginmyAerieifyouwish
tointroduceyourselftothemthewayyouhavetoothers.’Abaddonsnortedinamusedresignation.‘Whatawretchedlittledarlingyouare,alien.Andwhatof
Falkus?Whereishe,Khayon?’‘Ishalltakeyoutohim.’NefertarimadetofollowusuntilIliftedahandtostopher.Sheacquiescedtomyorder,thoughnot
withoutalong,consideringstare,weighingupwhetherornottoargue.Herfeatheredwingsopenedandstretchedinasuresignofirritation,beforefoldingbackagainstherbody.Thelookinhereyeswasawarning,oneIacknowledgedwithanod.
CONVERGENCE
AsweventuredtothedistrictIhadallottedtoFalkusandhistormentedbrothers,Abaddonremarkedonmuchofwhathesaw.TheappearancesofSortiarius’sbeast-bloodedmutantsdrewhiscuriosity,leadingtoalengthydiscussionoftheirtendenciesanddemeanours.Thefacttheymadeidealcrewdidnotescapehim,nordidwhathecalledtheir‘otheruses’.‘Bolterfodder,’heexplained.Ididnotsmileattheterm,thoughintruthneitherdidhe.Hespokeofitas
arealityofwar,notatortureheenjoyedinflicting.Manywarbandsusedhumanrabbleandmutantpacksasaninexpensivehordeofsacrificialflesh,
spendingtheirlivestowastethefoe’sammunitionandclogtheenemy’schainbladeswithmeat.Thebeast-mutantsofSortiarius’sherd-clansweremorevaluablestockthanmost,butIconfirmedthat,yes,IknewofseveralThousandSonswarbandsthatusedeventheirprizedslavesinsuchaway.Atalltimes,acoldsincerityunderlayhisidleconversation,makinghisquestionsseemmorelikestudy
orresearchthancuriosity.ThebronzefacesoftheAnamnesisinterestedhimaswell.Wepassedhundredsofthem,staringoutatusfromthewallsatirregularintervals.Hereceivednoanswerwhenheaddressedthem,yetproceededunperturbed.WeweredrawingclosertoFalkus’sdeckwhenAbaddonturnedtome,speakingwordsthatforcedmy
teethtoclenchtogether.‘Nefertari,’hewatchedmeashesaidhername.‘Howlongagodidshedie?’Therehavebeenahandfuloftimesinmylifewhereacompanion–evenabrother–hascomecloseto
deathforthecrimeofspeakingasinglesentence.Thatwasoneofthem.Isuddenlywantedtoclosemyfingersaroundhisthroatandstranglethelifefromhisgoldeneyes.‘Sheisnotdead,’Imanagedtoreply,whichwasneitherentirelytruenorentirelyfalse.‘Don’tlietome,Khayon.’‘Sheisnotdead,’Irepeated,firmerthistime.‘I’mnotjudgingyou,mybrother.’WasthatpityIheardinhisvoice?Wasitsympathyornothingmore
thansincerity?Icouldnotbesure.‘She’snotquitedead,yetnotquitealive.Howlonghaveyoukeptherlikethis?’‘Alongwhile.’Howstrangeitfelttospeakthesecretknowntomyself,mywolf,andnoother.Noteven
Ashur-Kaiknewthetruth.NotevenNefertariherself.‘Howcouldyoutell?’‘Isawit.’Hetappedhistemple,nearhisLight-stainedeyes.‘Lifemovesthroughher,herbloodstill
runs,herheartstillbeats...Butonlybecauseyoucommanditto.Youplayherbodylikeaninstrument,forcingittocontinueitssonglongpastthefinalnote.Sheshouldbedead,yetyouwon’tletherdie.Whokilledher?’
‘Zarakynel.’Eventhenametastedfoul.‘AdaughteroftheYoungestGod.’Isawrecognitionflareinhiseyes.Zarakynel,theAngelofDespair,theBringerofTorments,anda
thousandothersneering,self-righteoustitles.Thedaemonhadtoweredaboveallofus,thisshe-thingofscaled,oceanictalons,milk-whiteflesh,thrashingtendrilsandlushfemininity.Whenshefought,shesangthesongthathadechoedacrossthegalaxywiththebirthoftheYoungestGodandthedeathoftheeldarrace.Amelodyofgenocide.Theharmonyofextinction.IthadbeenoneofhertalonsthathadkilledNefertari.Atalon-tipthrustthroughtheeldar’sheart,inand
outbeforemybloodwardcouldevenreact.IcradledNefertariassheslippedintodeath,stealingthepainfromreachinghermind,pulsingpsychic
forcethroughherdyingformtokeepherbloodflowinginplaceoftheheartshenolongerhad.Theinfinityofminisculelifewithinherwasalreadybreakingapart,cellbycell,atombyatom,themomentherheartburst.Ifoughtagainstit,makingherbodybelieveitstilllived.Alltheseyearslaterthatpsychicundertakingstillheld,keepingheraliveontheveryedgeofdeath.It
wasnotstasis,norimmortality,forshestillagedintheincomparablyslowwayofherspecies.Itwaslife–shewasasaliveasanyotherlivingbeing–onlypropelledbywillpowerratherthannature.Mybloodward.MymostcomplexworkofArt.‘That’swhyyoudespiseSargon.’Abaddon’swordswerenotaquestion.‘Doyouseethatwithyourbleachedeyes,aswell?’AbaddoncontinuedasifIhadnotspoken.‘Youcan’treadhisthoughts.Yousensehisbarriersagainst
psychicintrusion.Couplethatwithhowhesilencedyourwolfandseveredherfromyoursenses...That’swhyyoureactedasyoudid,brandishingyourTizcanknifeathisthroat.Hisverypresencethreatensyou,evenifhemeansyounoharm,evenifheoffersyounothingbutbrotherhood.Herepresentsapotentialyouhavenowishtoconsider–thechancethathecould,somehow,severyoufromNefertari.Thatwouldleaveherdead,wouldn’tit?Cutofffromyourpower,severedfromthespellthatkeepsheralive.’IhadstoppedwalkingbythetimeAbaddonfinishedspeaking.Istaredathim,hatinghimforseeing
everythingwithsuchunbridledease.Iwaspastsurprisenow,anddeepintodistrust.‘Youseeagreatdeal,Ezekyle.’‘Tellme,Khayon,whatdidyoudotothecreaturethatkilledyourbloodward?’Thosememoriescameeasily.‘Iunmadeher.IpulledZarakynelapartuntilshewasnothingmorethan
loosethreadsofemotionandsensation,andIthrewthosestrandsbackintothewarp’swinds.’HeknewbetterthantoaskifIhadkilledher,fornoonecandestroyoneoftheNeverborn,butmy
malevolentbanishingwasmorethanthechild’splayofspite.ItwouldtaketheYoungestGod’sbelovedharlotyearstorethreadherformbackintosomethingcapableofmanifestationevenwithintheEye.Ihadunmadeherbeyondmerebanishment.‘Wewereaboardafallencraftworld,conqueredbythecreaturesoftheYoungestGod.Nefertari
butchereddozensofthemthatday,perhapsevenhundreds.Theycamefromthewarped-bonewalls,shriekingwiththevoicesofghosts,bloatedbythesoulstonegemsofdevouredeldar.Noneofthemcouldslayher,andeverydropofherbloodtheymanagedtoshedonlyhadthemhowlinglouder.Whenshefell,itwasforme.Shecoulddeflectthetalondescendingtowardsme,ordefendagainsttheonethatwouldendher.’‘Shechosetosaveyou.’ImethiseyesasIreplied.‘Truthfully?Iamnotsocertain.Youhavefoughteldar.Youknowhowthey
move,howtheyfightasquickaswethink.Nefertariisfasterthanmost,asararefewoftheCommorragh-borneldarareknowntobe.Herinstinctwastodefendagainstboth.Shecaughtoneofthecreature’sclaws,breakingitbeforeitcouldstrikemychest.Buttheotherpiercedherhere,’Itappedmyheart.‘AsI
said,inandout,theworkofasinglesecond.Onceitwasover,Iforcedherfleshtore-knit,regeneratingallIcould.Leachingthememoriesfromhermindwaseasybycomparison.’‘Whystealhermemories?’‘Becauseallmortalbodiesfunctionbywillasmuchasbyrote.Ifsherealisessheissustainedbymy
psychicefforts,itmayundoallmyworkwithinher.’Abaddonseemedtoliketheidea,asaconsideringsmileovertookhisfeatures.‘Soifsherealisesshe’s
dead,she’lldie.’‘Thatisabluntandcrudewayofphrasingit.’Mercifully,Abaddon’squestioningwasdrawingtoanend.‘UnlessI’mmistaken,Nefertariisanameof
Tizcanorigin.’‘Itis.Itmeans“beautifulcompanion”.’Hechuckledatthat.‘Youreallyareasentimentalsoul,Khayon.’‘Passionandloyaltyarewhatmakeuswarriorsratherthanweapons,’Iquotedtheoldaxiombackto
him.Butprivately,Iwonderedifhisbeliefwaseventrue.WasIsentimental?Nefertarihadchosenthatname,notI.Takingsuchanamewastypicalofhercoldandpreeningsenseofhumour.Whatshewishedtobecalledmeantnothingtome,eitherway.‘Whatisherrealname?’Abaddonaskednext,makingitmyturntosmile.‘Ah,soyoudonotknoweverything?IthinkIwillkeepatleastonesecret,Ezekyle.’‘Verywell.Answermethis,andIwillletthematterlie–ifyouarecapableofmanipulatingalien
biologyinsuchaway,canyoudothesamewithawarrioroftheLegions?Wouldfamiliaritywiththeirgenetictemplatemakeiteveneasier?’Ilookedathimaswewalkedonwardsthroughthedarkness.Hemetmystare,butrevealednothingin
hisgaze.
IhadresistedallpredictionsregardingFalkusandhiswarriors.InthatregardIenteredtheirdomainblind,withouttheweightofexpectation.WhenAbaddonaskedmeifIhadreceivedanywordfromthem,IwasforcedtoadmitthatFalkushadfallensilentmonthsago.‘Youchoosethestrangesttimestorespectsomeone’sprivacy,’Abaddoncommented,notwithoutthe
edgeofannoyance.Hewaseverasoulwhothrivedonknowingeveryiotaofinformationaboutthosebeneathhiscommand.AtonepointheaskedmeifIhadtriedtoexorcisetheNeverbornsharingthewarriors’skins.‘Iwouldhavetried,’Isaid,‘hadanyofthemaskeditofme.’Abaddonnoddedatthat.‘Fromafar,I’vewatchedmyLegiondie.Manyofthemsoldtheirfleshforthe
promiseofpower.It’seasytospeakofresistingtemptation,Khayon.It’shardertoresistitwhenstaringdownthebarrelsofahundredboltersandapactwiththeNeverbornisyouronlychanceofsurvival.’Isensednodistasteinhistonesorthoughtsashespokeofdaemonicpossession.Heunderstoodthe
sacrificeofit,evenifhechosetoresistitstemptations.ItmustseemstrangeforImperialmindstohearmespeakofdaemonicpossessionasanascensionoranachievement,whenthehumanmindrebelsattheveryidea.Thetruth,asalways,issomewhereinbetween.Forthosestrongenoughtoconquerthebeastwithintheirhearts,itoffersexultantstrength,unnaturalinsightandperception,andnear-immortality.Manyprayforit,orundertakejourneysoftheirowntoseekoutNeverbornintelligentenoughandwillingtorisksuchfusion.Rarelyisitassimpleasimmersingoneselfintherawwarpandemergingstrongerontheotherside.ThatwaswhatinterestedmemostinFalkus’sstate,andwhatbademekeepmydistanceashewent
throughtheChange.Itfeltarranged,orchestratedbyaconscioushand.IrefusedtoactuntilIwasaware
justwhatpieceswereonthegameboard.Whowerethepawns,andwhatwastheplayers’endgame?Sargonwasbehindit.Iwascertainofthatnow.HehadaidedFalkus’swarriorsinescapingtotheir
ship,onlytoabandonthemwhentheymostneededhisguidancethroughthestorm.Theywerebathedinthewarp’swracking,purifyingtideswhilehereturned–untouchedandunchanged–heretotheEleusinianVeil.WepassedfourofmyRubricaestandingguardatoneoftheprimarytransitroutesbacktothemain
passages–theyacknowledgedmypassingwithoutloweringtheirbolters.Aglanceattheirweaponsshowedtheyhadnotbeenrecentlyfired.IfFalkusandhisSecondbornkindredhadsoughttoescapewhileIhadbeenaboardtheVengefulSpirit,theyhadnotcomethisway.Itdidnottakelongtomakenoteoftheirinfluence,fortheSecondborn’spresencetwistedreality.Black
veinscrackedtheirwayacrosstheoldmetalwalls,andtheAnamnesis’sbronzefaceswerewarpedintodaemonicvisagesnowresemblingfemalegargoylesandgrotesques.Theaircarriedunintelligiblewhispers,aswellasthewetsoundsofgluttonousfeasting.Breathinginmademysensesachewiththeripetasteandtangofmarshwater.TheSecondborncontainedwithinthisdistrictwerenotpollutingortaintingtheirsurroundings.Itwasnothingmorethanthestrengthoftheirthoughtsanddesiresreshapingtheworldaroundthem.Yearsbefore,inamoreinnocentage,suchmutationwouldhaveputmeinmindofcorruption–of
diminishmentandcripplingchanges.However,Iwasonceaverynaivecreature.Thewarp’stouchisinhumanyetnotinherentlyevil,andwhileitisundeniablymalicious,italsoreshapesthoseitcaressesaccordingtotheirownpsyches.ThisiswhysomanyamongtheNineLegionsconsiderthemselvesblessedbythePantheonwhenmutationthreadsitswaythroughtheirphysicalforms.Emotionisencouraged,zealotryrewarded,violenceandpassionheldassacred.Thewarpneverrendersitschosensonsanddaughtersuseless,butthatisnottosayallofitsblessings
aredesiredandcherishedbymortalminds.WhatbenefitsthemalignantPantheonisnotalwayswhatthewarp-touchedsoulshavehopedfor.Somemutationisenhancementandrefinement.Somecanfeelclosertoruination.AsIhanghereinchainsnow,speakingofthedistant,IcanfeelInquisitorialeyesnotingmymutations
withrevulsion.Thewarphasreforgedmeaccordingtomyhatreds,mydesires,myfuriesandmysins.Ihavenotlookedtrulyhumaninmillennia.ButIcarelittleforhowIappeartomankind.EvenwhenIlookedhuman,Iwasstillasterileweaponof
fleshandceramiteelevatedabovehumanity,asoversizedandunlovelytomortaleyesasanyotherwarrioroftheLegionesAstartes.WhereImperialsmayrunscreamingfrommeasamonsterintheirmidst,therearethousandsofsoulswithintheGreatEyethatfeelkeen,depthlessjealousyoverthewaysthewarphasmouldedme.MyyearsasawarlordoftheBlackLegionhavebeenfarfromunkind.Aswemadeourwaythroughthealteredtunnels,Abaddonmadenocommentonthechangesdonetothe
ship.IknewevenwithoutaskingthattheVengefulSpiritlikelyheldcountlesschangesakintotheseonthedecksIhadnotyetseen.Wemovedthroughahive-likeseriesofunusedhydroponicschambers,wherethesmellofancient
vegetationstilllingered.Lessanarboretumandmorealaboratory,nowthetroughsandcradlesstoodempty,whereoncethiswholesubsectionhadbeenahavenofgreenlife.TheTlalochadthirtysuchhivestosupplementtherationpacksconsumedbythehumancrew.Mosthadlongsincefallenintodisrepair,beitfromthenecessaryskillsatrophyingamongstthewarship’smortalthrallsortheEye’seffectsonlab-grownvegetation.‘AreyounotworriedthatFalkuswilldespiseyouroracle?’Abaddon’seyesactuallygleamedwithpsychicresonanceinthedark.Ihadonlyeverseensuchathing
amongtheNeverborn.‘AndwhywouldIbeworriedaboutthat,Khayon?’‘Youknowwhy.Sargon’shandguidedthemtothisjuncture.’‘You’resocertainofthat?’‘Verywell,Abaddon.Pleadignoranceifyouwish.’WefoundthefirstofFalkus’swarriorsaloneinonesuchchamber,standingmotionlessinhiswargear.
HisTerminatorarmourlookedblackenedbyimmolation,withitshelmbrutallytuskedinaferalglare.Thewarrior’slightningclawswereidleathissides,thebladesinactive.Aswedrewcloser,Isawwhy.Theywerenottheconsecratedironofstandarddesign,buttalonsofdensebonelengtheningoutfromthegauntlets’fingertips.Hisarmourlookedwhollyfusedtohisflesh,whichwashardlyuncommonamongthoseofusdwellingwithintheEye.Thestinking,silverypoisondrippingfromtheboneclawswasclosertounique.Itresembledmercuryandsmeltofspinalfluid.Isensednothingatwarwithinhim.Nodaemonandmortallockedinrestlesscoils,just...calm.Thefirst
stringsofcobwebslinkedhishelmettohisshoulder,andhisankletothedeckplating.Hehadbeenstandingherelikethisforafewdays,atleast.Waiting.‘Kureval,’Abaddongreetedthewarrior.TheTerminatorturnedhisheadinalumberingdrift,armour
jointsgrowling.Thesamesilverpoisonraninslowtricklesdownhistusks.Beforethewarriorspoke,Ifelthisthoughtslockintoplace.ThatistheclosestIcancometodescribing
thesensation–wheredead,distractedpainfilledtheJustaerin’sskullasweapproached,themomenthisattentionfixeduponAbaddonhisthoughtsalignedintorecognisablepatterns.HebecamehumaninAbaddon’spresence,asthoughhisformerFirstCaptainwassomekindofpsychicanchor.‘...HighChieftain?’Kureval’svoicewasagrindingpurr,cooledbydisbelief.Abaddon’sanswerwastobarehisteethinavicioussmilethroughtherattyfalloffilthyhair.‘HighChieftain,’Kurevalrepeated,andloweredhimselfintoakneelatonce.TheTerminatorwas
malicegivenform,andawarriorstrongenoughtoleadawarbandinhisownimage.Toseehimkneelingthreesecondsafterseeinghisformercommanderonceagainwasatrifledisconcerting.IwasbeginningtorealisejustwhatapresenceAbaddonwastohiswarriors.TheformerchieftainoftheJustaerinmadenomockeryofhisbrother’sobeisance.Herestedhishandon
Kureval’sshoulder-guard,whisperingaCthoniangreetingevenmyenhancedhearingcouldnotcatch.EveryLegionhasitsritesandritualsunseenbyoutsiders.Ifeltlikeanintrudertrespassingduringaprivateceremony.TheTerminatorroseslowly,armourjointssnarling.LiketherestoftheJustaerin,hisarmourwasthe
blackofhisLegion’seliteratherthanthetraditionalsea-greenofthecommonSonsofHorus.‘Comewithus,Kureval.’TheTerminatorraisednoobjection,followinginaslowandobedientstride.Hepaidmenomindatall,
reservinghiswholefocusforAbaddon.IdonotknowifKurevalbelievedhisformercommanderwasavisionornot.‘Isenselittleofthedaemonwithinyou,’Isaidtothewarrioraswewalked.‘Didyouexpelitfrom
yourflesh?’Hisanswerwasalow,gurglinggrowl.Iwonderedifitwasalaugh.Onwewalked,andtheprocessrepeateditselfagainandagain.Falkus’swarriorswerescattered
throughoutthesubdistrict,eachonestandingmotionless,statuesqueintheirisolation.Somefacedwalls,somestoodnexttoshut-downwasteprocessinggenerators;threeoccupieddifferentsectionsofthesamechamber,staringoutofthereinforcedviewglassattheplanetturningbelow.AllofthemawakenedinAbaddon’spresence,asthoughhisnearnessbroughttheirspiritsbacktodwell
withintheirflesh.Allofthemfollowedinaloosecolumn,puttingupachorusofheavingjointmechanics.Iheardtheclickingofvoxcommunicationbetweenthemastheywalked,thoughtheykeptmeexcludedfromit.Isensednopredatoryessenceswithinanyofthem.Allofthemsportedbiomechanicalmutationtosome
degree,withprotrusionsofceramiteandbonemeltedtogethertoformspines,crestsandblades,andmostleakedwiththevenomoussecretionthatranfromKureval’sclaws,buttheirsoulsweretheirown.Nodaemonicpresencenestleddeepintheirhearts,norbubblednearthesurface,skinridingthemaspuppets.Itwasimpossiblethatallofthemhadmanagedtothrowthedaemonsfromtheirflesh.YetwhatIsensed
hadnoeasyanswer:itwasnotjusttheabsenceofanintrudingNeverbornintelligence–therewasnowoundedhollownessafterasoulhasbeentornopenwhencastingoutadaemon’stouch.Itwasasifthedaemonhadburroweddeepwithineachofthem,thewayvermindigtoescapethelight.Questioningthewarriorsastheystrodeforthyieldednoinsight.Severalgreetedmebyname,as
comradelyandwarmasifwehadnotjustcomeuponthemstandingmind-deadinthedark.Whatevermeditativestatetheyhadbeeninbeforewediscoveredthemwasbanishedbythisshowofvitality.BythetimewefoundFalkus,sixteenoftheJustaerinthuddedalongthedeckbehindus.Itfeltalmost
funerealdespitetheirapparentvitality.Falkusoccupiedanotherdry,deadhydroponicslaboratory.Hewasasmotionlessastheothers,and
reactedthesameastheyhadwhenAbaddondrewcloser.‘Falkus,’Abaddonsaidsoftly.Thehornedhelmroseandturned,andbehindtheredeyelensesIsensed
thewarrior’sthoughtsslidingintoalignment.Ihavecalleditanawakening,butthatisnotquitetrue.Itfeltlikearestoration,notarisefromslumber.‘Khayon,’hesaidfirst,hisvoicesluggish,likebloodfromacorpse.Andthen,‘Ezekyle.Iknewyou
weren’tdead.’‘Mybrother.’Abaddonwasnotcontentwithadistantgreeting.Hegrippedwristswithhisformer
lieutenant,hisauraflaringwiththecoloursofconfidence.IconfessIpaidlittleheedtotheirreunion.AstheyspokeofallthathadtranspiredatLupercalios,I
turnedaway,lookingoverthegatheredJustaerin.Mysensesblossomedoutwards,becomingaweboffinger-likeprobesseekingcracksatthecornersoftheirminds.Iwassofoolish.Socompletelyblind.Whathadbeeninvisibletomewhilereadingeachofthem
separatelybecameutterlyobviousthemomentIwatchedtheminadisorderedpack.BackaboardNiobiaHalo,thedaemonswithinthecagedJustaerinhadfeltunnaturallysimilar,eachequaltoitskindredinstrengthandresonance.OrsoIhadthought.Thetruthwasmuchmorefascinating,andIcursedmyselfformissingitsnuancesuntilnow.TheywereboundtogetherbyasingleNeverbornspirit.Notahostofdaemonspossessingthemin
absolution,butasinglecreaturethreadedthroughthemlikefinemist.Theybreatheditinandbreatheditout.Itspicedthebloodintheirveins,dilutedalmosttonothingness.Thiswasbio-daemonicmanipulationofstaggeringsubtlety.SpreadthrougheveryoneofFalkus’swarriors,thedaemonhadassureditsimmortalitywithinthematerialrealm.AslongasoneoftheJustaerinlived,thedaemoncouldnotdie.NorwasitanentirelyuselesssymbiosisfortheJustaerin.Thedaemondriftedthroughtheirthoughts
withoutthestrengthtoshapetheiremotions,yetitjoinedtheminaweakcommunionthatalmostapproachedtelepathy.WhileIdoubtedtheycouldcommunicateinsilentspeech,theymovedinastrange,preternaturalunity–thewayaflockofbirdsonthewingwillwheelinunison–andtheirperceptionsfeltkeener,sharperastheystoodtogether.Tolearnhowdeeplythissymbiosisran,Ichasedthedaemonwithinthem.Itspresence,alreadyfaint,
dilutedfurtherinanattempttofleefrommyscrutiny.MostNeverbornwouldresistbyaggressively
reshapingtheirhosts;thisonebrokeitselfapartinsidethem.EverytimeIreachedforasensorytraceofthecreature,itdissolveditsessencefurther,thinner,fainter.IwaschasingechoesintheJustaerin’sbones,andhuntingbubblesintheirblood.AllthewhileIcursedthecreatureforitsincrediblesubtlety.IfIcouldacquireitsname,Iwascommittedtobindingitatonce,nomatterthecosttoFalkus’smen.Suchacunning,uniquedaemonwouldhaveahundreduses.Ipressedon,seekinganythingandfindingnothing.AllsenseoftheNeverbornwasgone,lostinthe
currentofthewarriors’beatingheartsandswirlingthoughts.Thedaemonspreaditselfsothinbetweenseveralhoststhatitwasalmostwhollyhidden.‘...Khayon?’Iopenedmyeyes,onlythenrealisingtheyhadbeenclosed.SofocusedwasIonthepursuitofthis
maddeningdaemonthatittookseveralsecondstorefocusonmysurroundings.Abaddonwaslookingatme.‘Ialmosthadit,’Isaidtohim.‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’heasked.Falkuswaslookingatmenow.AlloftheJustaerinwerelookingatme.Redeyelensessetdeepin
tusked,hornedhelmsstaredwithoutaword.Archaiccannonswerebracedonservo-strengthenedarms.Ornatemaulsandaxesweremag-lockedtoarmourplatesthecolourofrancidash.Didtheyknow?Didtheyconsiderthemselvesexorcised,ordidtheyfeelthedaemon’slingeringtouch
inaplaceawayfromtheirconsciousminds?HadSargonarrangedthisfatefortheJustaerinatAbaddon’sbehest,orwasthissimplyanothercutfromthetwistingknifeoffortune?Ifthedaemonwasdilutedtonear-nothingnesswithintheirbloodstreams,weretheyeventrulypossessedatall?Questions,questions,questions.ThisiswhatitisliketolivewithinaNineLegionswarband.Toseethingsthatcannotbepossibleand
pursueanswersthatmaynevercome.Towonderoverthestateofyourbrothers’souls,knowingtheydoubtyoursanityinreturn.Loyaltyiseverything,yettrustistheonethingwesorarelyhave.‘Nothing,’Ireplied.‘Amomentarydistraction.Alliswell.’ThatwasthefirsttimeIliedtoEzekyle.HeknewIlied,yetIsensednoangerorthreatofreprisal.
WhatIsensedfromhimwasaslowpulseofapproval.Atestpassed.Anofferoftrustgivenandaccepted.Iwasnotlyingtohim,afterall.WewerebothlyingtotheJustaerin.‘Weshouldbeginatonce,’Falkussaid,tappinghisheartwithCthoniansincerity.Ihadpaidnoattentiontothemeatoftheirconversation.Iknewnothingofwhattheyweresaying.It
becameclearwhenAbaddonreturnedthegesture,fingertipsclankingagainsthischestplate.‘WithKhayon’said,’hesaid,‘theVengefulSpiritwillsailagain.Mybrothers,wearefewandtheyare
many,buttheCanticleCitywillfall.’
PREPARATION
Wereturnedtothedormantflagship,gatheringtoplanourassault.OnourfirstnightaboardtheVengefulSpirit,severalofusstillworethecoloursofLegionstowhichwenolongerfeltanyallegiance.Abaddonhimselfwascladinhisunmatchingbattleplate,makinghimseemamemberofeveryLegionyetloyaltonone.InafewshortdecadeswewouldstandtogetherintheblackthattheImperiumcametodread,each
representingourownarmiesandfleetsatAbaddon’swarcouncils.Hundredsofuswouldstandonthebridgeoftheflagship,makingourvoicesheardaswearguedoverwhichoftheImperium’sworldstokill.Allofthisglorywasyettocome.Firstwehadtofightthebattlethatwouldbindustogetherorseeusdead.ThegatheringtookplaceontheVengefulSpirit’scommanddeck,whereHorusandhisprimarch
brothershadoncestoodwiththelord-captainsoftheSpaceMarineLegions,firstpresidingoverthefateoftheGreatCrusade,thendecidingthefateoftherebellion.Bannersdepictingoldglorieshunginrows,somewovenastapestries,othersmoreprimitivecollectionsoftrophiesleashedtogetherandraisedasvictorystandards.MostofthehangingflagscommemoratedtheplanetaryconquestsandfleetengagementsoftheLunaWolvesduringtheirtwohundredyearsofcrusading,beforetheEmperorofferedthemtherighttochangetheirnameinrecognitionoftheirhonourasHorus’ssons.Themorerawandramshackleiconswerebattlefieldtrophies–notfromworldstakenbutfrombattlesfoughtwithThrone-loyalforcesonHorus’sroadtoTerra.BetweentheseweretheritualisticemblemsofthewarriorlodgesthatspreadilluminationandtreasoninequalmeasurethroughouttheXVILegion’sranks.Lookingaroundtheexpansivebridgeitwasdifficulttopicturetheemptychamberpopulatedby
thousandsofofficersandenlistedcrew.Entireranksoflegionarieshadmusteredhere,reportingincampaignbriefingsandaddingtheirvoicestothedecisionsmadebytheGreatCrusade’sinnercircleofcommanders.Gallerieswerearrangedinconcentriccrescentstoaccommodateamilitarypresencethathadnotbeenseenwithinthesewallsforcenturies.Fromeveryceilingrafterandwallmounting,theslittedandlividyellowEyeofHorusstareddown
uponus.PerhapsIshouldhavefeltjudgedbythatferalgaze.IntruthIfeltnothingbutpity.TheSonsofHorushadfallenasfarasitwaspossibletofall.Ispokefromexperience,fortheThousandSonshaddonethesame.Westoodaroundthecentralhololithictable,ahandfulofwarriorsstandingwherearmiesoncestood.I
feltlikeascavenger,cometosiftthroughthedustofthegloriouspast.Iwilllistthenamesofthosepresent,toberecordednowinImperialarchives.Someofthesewarriors
arelonglost,fallenascasualtiesintheLongWar.Othersareunrecognisablewiththeirtruenames
forgotten,theiroriginalidentitiesburiedbeneathahostofwarmongeringtitlesgrantedbyafearfulImperium.Thesearethenamestheyborethen,backonthatdistantday.FalkusKibre,theWidowmaker,lastchieftainofthebrokenJustaerinandlordoftheDuragakal
Esmejhakwarband.Withhimwerealmostthirtyofhisbrothers,cladintheheavyplateoftheirmurderousclan.TelemachonLyras,sword-captainoftheEmperor’sChildren.Hestoodalone–theonlyoneofhis
brothersnotfedtothehungrylustsofmyeldarcompanion.Theshadowsthatdarkenedtheentirecommanddeckwereunabletodiminishthesilversheenofhisrapturousfacemask.Ashur-Kai,theWhiteSeer,sorcererandsageoftheThousandSons.Hestoodwithaphalanxofour
Rubricae,numberingonehundredandfourofourashenbrothers.Tokugra,hiscarrioncrow,watchedproceedingsfromitsperchonhisshoulder.LheorvineUkris,known–muchtohisgall–asFirefist,gunnery-captainoftheWorldEatersand
commanderoftheFifteenFangs.HestoodwithUgrivianandtheirfoursurvivingbrothers,eachoneholdingamassiveheavybolteratease.SargonEregesh,Abaddon’soracle,awarrior-priestoftheWordBearers’BrazenheadChapter.Healso
stoodalone,cladinthefaithfulredoftheXVIILegion,hisarmourinscribedwithColchisianrunesinworngoldleaf.AndI,IskandarKhayon,intheagebeforemybrotherscalledmeKingbreakerandmyfoescalledme
KhayontheBlack.MyarmourwasthecobaltandbronzeoftheThousandSonsandmyskinthen–asitisnow–theequatorialduskinessoftheTizcan-born.AtmysidewasNefertari,myeldarbloodward,darkofarmourandpallidofflesh,withhergreywingsclosedtightlytoherback.Sheleanedonanornatespearstolenfromatombonaneldarcroneworld,deepintheEye.Gyrestoodatmyotherside,theblackwolf’smalignantwhiteeyesever-watchful.Hermoodmatchedmyown,asmyeagernesstranslatedthroughherphysicalform.Shereekedofthebloodwewouldsoonspill.Herfursmeltofmurder,herbreathofwar.Abaddonlookedoverthisdisparateconclave,andtappedhisheartinCthonianhumility.‘We’reasorryandraggedwarband,arewenot?’Lowchucklessoundedacrossthechamber.Ofallthosegathered,Ikeptmycommitmentonthetightest
leash.MythoughtskeptstrayingtoEzekyle’spilgrimagechamberfaracrosstheship,wheretheTalonofHoruslayasamuseumrelic.Itpressedagainstmythoughtseventhoughthepsychicresonanceofthebloodiedbladeswasshroudedinstasis.Abaddoninvitedotherstohavetheirsaybeforehespokehisownpiece.Therewasnoformalorder
beneaththedustybannersofthepast,onlywarriorsspeakingoftheirintent.Whenonefalteredinaretelling,Abaddonwouldencouragethemwithfurtherquestionsthatrevealedmoreofthespeaker’spasttoallthoselistening.Hewasbridgingthedividesbetweenuswithoutforcingtheissue,makingusrecogniseallwehadincommon.Iadmit,inthatlight,itfeltalmostfated.EachofusspokeofLegionswenolongerbelievedin,of
fatherswenolongeridolised,ofdaemonicLegionhomeworldswerefusedtoclaimashavens.Thesedoubtswerenothingnew,buttheyweremattersrarelyspokenaloud.Inawayourwordsborderedonconfession,thewaysinnersoncesoughtabsolutionbyadmittingtheircrimestoministersoftheoldestfaiths.Onamuchmorepracticallevelitwasplainlyatacticalappraisal.Weweresoldierscitingourhistories,layingouthowourhatredsandtalentsalikeboundustoagreaterwhole.Itwasalldonewithalackofposturingorbroodingpomposity.Iadmiredthat.Thesewereintroductionsmorethanlongretellings,however.MereformalitiesbeforeAbaddonspoke
thereasonweweregatheredtogether.Warriorsarenotbroughttogetherbytalkofthepast,butbyliving
throughbattleinthepresent.ForAbaddon’sambitionstobearanyweight,hewouldhavetogiveusavictory.HespokeoftheCanticleCityandhowwewouldplungeaspeartipthroughthefortress’sheart.He
spokeofhowtheVengefulSpiritwouldbeabletosailwithaskeletoncrewofthedamned,guidedbythemindoftheAnamnesis.HespokeofthethreatposedbyHorusReborn.Doubtlessadistantthreat–heacknowledgedthatthe
Emperor’sChildrensurelyhaddecadesoffailedalchemicalexperimentationaheadofthembeforetheyevensynthesisedthefirststageoftheEmperor’sgeneticwonderwork.Distantasthepotentialwas,wewouldhitbeforeitbecameathreat,strikingtopreventtheEmperor’sChildrenwinningtheLegionWars.HecarednothingforextinguishingtheXVILegion’sshame–hecaredonlyforcastingasidethoselastshacklesfromthepast.TheprimarchsweredeadorascendedpastmortalconcernsinthetidesoftheGreatGameoftheGods.HelistedtheImperialdeadandthetraitorousascended,endingwithnamesthatwerefastbecomingmythiceventothoseofuswithintheEye:Angron,Fulgrim,Perturabo,Lorgar,Magnus,Mortarion.Thenamesoffatherselevatedbeyondthekenoftheirmortalsons;patronswhonowpaiduslittleheed,lostastheyweretothewindsandwhimsofChaos.Thenamesoffatherspreciousfewofusstilladmired,withtheirlegaciesofdubioussuccess.Ihadexpectedastirringspeech,arousingdiatribebeforeabattle,butAbaddonknewbetterthanto
playusfalsewithzealouswords.Thiscold-bloodedassessmentwasicetooursenses.Westoodlikestatuesthroughastripped-backaccounting,takingstockofourlivesandourLegions’failures,confrontingthetruthalongsidethosegoingthroughthesamerevelations.Noliestobolsterus.Thetruthbrokeusdown,lettinguschoosewheretogofromthere.Ashefinishedspeaking,AbaddonpromisedusaplaceaboardtheVengefulSpiritifwedesiredit–if
wewouldstandwithhimforthisonebrutalassault.‘AnewLegion,’heconcluded,surprisingseveraloftheotherswiththeoffer.‘Forgedaswedesire,not
asslavestotheEmperor’swillandcastintheimageofhisflawedprimarchs.Boundtogetherbyloyaltyandambition,notnostalgiaanddesperation.Untaintedbythepast,’hesaidatlast.‘Nolongerthesonsoffailedfathers.’Intelligentenoughnottohammerthepointtoofar,helettheofferrideinourminds,trustingustocome
toourownconclusionswhilehemovedontohisfinalgambit.Hetolduswhatwewouldhavetodoifoursiegewastosucceed.Hetolduswhatheexpectedofeachofuswhenbattlewasjoined.Withoutnominatinghimselfasourcommander,heneverthelesstookthereinswitheffortlessskill,detailingexpectationsofresistanceandmanyofthepossibleoutcomes.Likeallskilledgenerals,hecameprepared.Whenpreparationwasnotenough,hereliedonexperienceandinsight.Wewouldstrikewithoutwarning,withoverwhelmingforce.TheCanticleCitydidnotmatter,nordid
theenemyfleet.Allweneededtoconcernourselveswithwerethecloningfacilitiesandthefleshcrafterswholabouredattheirarcanesciencewithinthosehalls.‘Noprotractedengagements.Norunningbattles.Westrike,wekill,wepullback.’WelistenedasAbaddonoutlinedhisplan.Noobjectionswereraised,thoughseveralofusshifted
uncomfortablyatwhatwewerehearing.Noneofushadevertakenpartinanassaultquitelikethis.Lastofall,heturnedtome.Hetoldmethatthehonourofstrikingtheveryfirstblowwouldbemine.ThenhetoldmewhatIwouldneedtodo.AndthenhetoldmewhatIwouldneedtosacrifice.
IboardedtheTlalocwithmywolfandmywar-maiden,journeyingdownintotheCore.TheAnamnesisgreetedmewithlukewarmregard,staringdead-eyedatmyarrival.Shefloatedinhertank,herskinpale
aseverinthenutrient-richfluid.WhenIlookedatherIalwayssawmysister.Itdidnotmattertomethatshewassomuchmoreandso
muchlessthanshehadbeeninlife.Thefemalehuskdriftinginitspreservingfluidandconnectedtoallthislife-givingmachinerywasstillItzara,evenifherskullnowhousedathousandothermindsaswellaswhatwasleftofherown.ItoldherwhatAbaddonwasaskingofme.IthadalwaysbeenmyintenttoinstalltheAnamnesisaboard
theVengefulSpirittoserveasthewarship’smachinesoul,butAbaddon’sapprovalofmyplancamewithawarning.IbroughtthatwarningtotheAnamnesis.AsIspokesheseemedtopaymywordslittleheed,instead
exchangingstareswithGyreandNefertari.WhenIpausedinmyexplanation,shegreetedmymostloyalcompanionswithtonelesshails.Nefertarifavouredthemachine-spiritwithanelegantbow.Gyreloweredherheadasshewalked
aroundthetank,prowlingaroundandaround.Oncemyexplanationwascomplete,IaskedherwhatIbelievedwasasimplequestion.‘IfIletyoudothis,canyouwin?’TheAnamnesisturnedinaslowglidetostareatmethroughthemilkyooze,andhervoiceresonated
fromthevox-gargoylesaroundtheostentatiouschamber.‘Youaskustomeasuretheimmeasurable,’shesaid.‘No,Iamaskingyoutoguess.’‘Wearenotcapableofcalculatinganansweronconjecturealone.Youdefineasituationwithunclear
parameters.Howarewetojudgepossibleoutcomes?’‘Itzara...’‘WearetheAnamnesis.’Nefertarirestedherhandonmyforearm,sensingtheriseofmytemper.Idoubtsheevenfeltmy
gratitude,forIkeptmyfocusontheAnamnesis.‘IfwebondyoutotheVengefulSpirit,thelingeringtracesofitssoul-coremaydevouryour
consciousness.Youwillnolongerbeyourself.Youridentitywillbesubsumed.’‘Phrasingthesamesituationindifferentwordsisnoaidtoourcalculations,Khayon.Wecannotgive
youananswer.’Ithuddedbothmyfistsonthecontainmenttank,leaningthereandstaringinather.‘Justtellmeyouwill
resistwhateverstrengthremainsintheflagship’smachine-spirit.Tellmeyoucanwin.’‘Wecannotstateanyoftheseeventualitieswithcertainty.’Ihadexpectedanddreadedsuchananswer.Wordlessly,Isatwithmybacktoherimmersiontank,
refusingtomakeanymorefutiledemandsforreassurance.ForatimeIwascontentmerelytobreatheinandoutontheedgeofmeditationwithoutcommittingtoit,listeningtothechurningenginesofItzara’slife-supportsystemsandthebubblingofhercontainmentfluid.‘TheVengefulSpiritwasthequeenofTerra’sfleet,’Abaddonhadsaidattheconclusionofthebriefing.
‘Hersoul-coreisstrongerandmoreaggressivethananyotherbattleshipthateversailedthestars.Iwantyoutobepreparedforwhatmighthappen,Khayon.’SoweneededtheAnamnesis’suniquesystems,herabilitytocontrolavesselwithasentientmind.
InstallingtheTlaloc’smachine-spiritwithintheflagshipwouldenableustorekindleitssoulandsailwithoutthehundredsofthousandsofnecessarycrew.ButreactivatingAbaddon’swarshipmightmeanfeedingmysister’ssoultoitsmachine-spirit.IreplayedAbaddon’swordsoverandoverinmymindasIsatthere,andthatwashowLheorand
Telemachonfoundme.Thefinaldoorsrumbledopen,admittingbothofthemintotheveryheartofthe
Core.Mysurpriseatseeingthemwasthreefold–firstlythattheywouldseekmeoutdownhere,secondlythattheywouldbetogetheratall,andthirdlythattheAnamnesiswouldallowthemtoenterherpresence.‘Brothers,’Igreetedthem,risingtomyfeet.‘Whatareyoudoinghere?’‘Lookingforyou.’Lheorwastense,withtremorsafflictinghislefthand.‘Wereturnedtohelpyouwith
thepreparations.’Bothwerestillarmedandarmoured,andbothturnedtheirfaceplatestotheAnamnesis,regardingthe
ship’suniquemachine-spiritforthefirsttimeintheflesh.‘GreetingsLheorvineUkrisandTelemachonLyras,’shesaid,floatinginthemurkbeforethem.Lheorwalkedovertoher,lookingupatthenudefigureentombedinthethinsludgeofaquavitriolo.He
tappedhisfingeragainstthereinforcedglass,thewayachildmighttroublefishinatank.TheAnamnesisdidnotsmile,ofcourse,butnordidsheorderhimtodesist.Shelookeddownuponhim
asifhisbehaviourwereamomentarycuriosity,thestrangegameofaninsect,nothingmore.Lheorgrinnedatherstaringfeatures.‘Soyou’rehissister,eh?’‘WearetheAnamnesis.’‘Butyouwerehissisterbefore...allthis.’‘Wewereoncealiveasyouarealive.NowwearetheAnamnesis.’Lheorlookedaway.‘It’slikearguingwithamachine.’‘Youarearguingwithamachine,’saidNefertaribymyside.Lheorignoredher,asalways.Hewas
drawingbreathtospeakwhenTelemachon’ssoftwordsbrokethroughourhaltingconversation.‘Youarebeautiful.’Weallturned.TelemachonstoodbeforetheAnamnesis,hispalmpressedtohercontainmenttank.She
driftedclosertohim,nodoubtdrawnbyhisrarebehaviour.‘WearetheAnamnesis,’shetoldhim.‘Iknow.Youarelovely.Abeingofunbelievablecomplexity,presentedinthisbeautifulform.You
remindmeoftheNayad.Doyouknowofthem?’Shetiltedherheadagain.Ifeltherthoughtsflashingbackandforthinimpossibleflickersbetweenher
crownofcablesandthehundredsofmind-enginepodsacrossthechamber.Thebrainsofprisoners,scholars,savantsandslaves,alllinkedtoherinagestalthive-mind.‘No,’shesaidatlast.‘Theywerealegend,’Telemachontoldher,‘onChemos,myhomeworld.’Thesilverfacemasklooked
soaptinthatmoment,staringinsereneadmiration.Hewasamangazinguponthevisageofaheavenlyafterlife.Nowonderhumanityhadonceburieditskingsandqueensinsuchmasks.‘PerhapstheyhavedeeperrootsonOldEarth.Ican’tsayforcertain.Chemosianlegendtellsusthatourworldoncehadseasandoceans,inanagewhenChemos’ssunburnedbrightenoughtoinspireawealthoflife.TheNayadwereaspeciesofwaterspiritschargedwithwatchingovertheoceans.Theysangtothebeastsofthedeepestwaters,andtheirsongssoothedourworld’ssoul.Whentheirmusicfinallycametoanend,theoceansdriedupandthesungrewdarkerinthedustyheavens.Chemositselfmournedthelossoftheirsongs.’TheAnamnesis’seyeswerewide.‘Wedonotunderstand.’‘Whatdon’tyouunderstand?’heaskedinhisstoryteller’svoice.‘WedonotunderstandwhytheNayadceasedtheirmusic.Theiractionscausedglobalfluxof
extinction-levelseverityformanyspecies.’‘It’ssaidthattheirsongsimplycametoanend,asallsongsdo.TheNayadvanishedfromourworld
thatday,theirdutydoneandtheirliveslivedinfull.Nevertoreturn.’
Istoodinstunnedsilence.EvenNefertarirefrainedfrombaitingtheswordsmaninthatmoment,thoughIcouldseeherknife-likesmileasshewatchedthewarriorwhohadoncehungeredsofiercelyforherdeath.Lheor,however,cutthequietwithoneofhisgunshotlaughs.‘That’sthestupidestthingI’veeverheard.
Littleoceangoddessessingingtofish?’TheAnamnesisturnedtoLheorasheshatteredthespellofTelemachon’sstory.Isawtheembersof
angerinhergaze.Itheartenedmetoseeherfeelanyemotionatall.‘AndChemoshasneverhadoceans,’Lheoradded.‘Soitcan’tbetrue.’Telemachonloweredhishand,evidentlywithsomereluctance.Icouldfeelhisstuntedthoughts,how
theyflailedandmisfired,toocoldlyblandtolinkwithanyemotion.OncemoreIwasstruckbywhatIhaddonetohim.AhrimanhadmassacredourLegionbydamning
themtoexistenceasRubricae,butherewastheverysinIlaidathisfeet,performedbymyownhand.EvenonthescaleofasinglesoulratherthananentireLegion,thebitternessofhypocrisywasanunwelcometaste.TelemachonwasstillspeakingwiththeAnamnesis,choosingtoignoreLheor’sinterruptions.‘Abaddontoldusthatyou’reunlikelytosurvivemergingwiththeflagship’smachine-spirit.Thatitwill
swallowyourconsciousnesswithinitself.’TheAnamnesisfloatedlower,almoststandingonthebottomofhertank.Theswordsmanwastallerthan
hernow.Cablesconnectedtoherskullrippledlikehairinthenutrientwater.‘Khayonvocalisedthesameconcern.’Herwordscamefromthechamber’sspeakersagain.‘Hisvoice
patternsindicateemotionalduressinthismatter.HeseesusnotastheAnamnesisconstruct,butasthehumanItzara.Thisisaflawinhisreasoning.Itlimitshisobjectivity.’Telemachonshookhishead.‘No,’hissmoothvoiceassuredthemachine-spirit,‘Idon’tbelieveso.
There’sadifferenceinhowyoulookathim,andhowyoulookattherestofus.Ittookmemereheartbeatstoseeit–aquiverofemotioninyoureyeswhenyoulookhisway.Hissisterliveswithinyou,buriedbutnotdead.Areyourthoughtscodedandprogrammedtodenyit?Isthatdenialnecessaryforyourfunction?’Shesaidnothingforseveralseconds,staringdead-eyedattheswordsman.‘We...wearethe
Anamnesis.’‘Asstubbornasyourbrother.’Helookedawayatlast.‘Areyouready,Khayon?’Iwas.WithafinalglancebackattheAnamnesis,wewalkedfromtheCore.NefertariandLheor
immediatelyfellintoinfantileteasingofeachother.Formypart,IwasstillwordlessinthewakeofTelemachon’sactions.IfItellyounowthatintheyearstocomeourswordsmanandstorytellerwouldbecomeAbaddon’spersonalherald,chargedwithdeclaringtheWarmaster’swishestotheNineLegions,perhapsyouwillbegintoseewhy.Thefirstprocessionofrobedtech-priestsfiledintothechambersbehindus,beginningthehymnal
ritualsthatneededtobeobservedbeforetheycoulddismantletheTlaloc’ssoulandferrytheAnamnesisacrosstotheVengefulSpirit.‘Ihavedoneyouaninjustice,’IadmittedtoTelemachon.‘OneIwillrectifynow.’
THESPEAR
ThefirsttimeIsawtheCanticleCitywasthenightwedarkeneditsskies.ManyoftheNineLegions’warbandsspeakofthatbattleasthoughtheyhadbeenthere,tellinghowtheyfoughtvaliantlydespitebeingunpreparedtofaceanumericallysuperiorfoe.Theyuseittocastaspersiononus,asthoughwemightbeneedledbytheirimplicationsthatwelackasenseofhonour.Someofthetalesevenswearthatweworeblackinthatbattle,asthoughwewerealreadytheBlackLegioninnameaswellasheart.Lies,allofthem.Whenotherwarbandsspeaksuchthingstheyaregreasingtheirtongueswithuntruths
bornofprideandenvy.ManywarlordswishtherighttoclaimtheywerepresentatoneoftheNineLegions’mostdefiningbattles,andthosewhoweretrulytherehuntforanyreasontoexcusetheirdefeat.Yetthestoriesremain,castingajealousshadowovertheBlackLegion’sgenesis.Bruteforce,ourrivalsinsist,carriedtheday.Whatfinerwaytojustifytheirfailurethantopretenddefeatwasinevitable?Quick,savage,clean.Thatwashowitplayedout.ForalltheVengefulSpirit’sstrength,onlyahandful
ofwarriorspopulateditshalls.Eveninorbit,ourenemiesoutnumberedustwentytoone.Howthendidwewin?Theanswerissimple.Wewonthroughtheassault’saudacityandthroughloyalty
tooneanother.Wewonbygoingforthethroat.
TheworldwascalledHarmony.WhetherthatwasacorruptionoftheoriginaleldarnameormerelyadelusionofIIILegionvanityremainsamysterytomeevennow.DespitethebreakingoftheEmperor’sChildrenatSkalathrax,theCanticleCityservedasahaventomanyIIILegionwarbandsandtheirallies.Apopulatedworldwithore-richmoonsclaimedinturnbyfeudingMechanicumcity-states.ThesystemwasnomorepeacefulthananywhereelseintheEye.Dozensofwarbandscalledithome.AllweknewofthecityscapecamefromTelemachon’sdescription.Wepossessednotacticalhololiths,
noranycurrentdispositionofitsdefences.Oneofmylastclearmemoriesbeforethejourneywasofmynewlyfreedbrotherinhissilvermask,shakinghisheadinanswertooneofAbaddon’smanyquestions.‘TeleportationisasunreliablethereasanywhereelseintheEye.’Thatfactsurprisednoone.‘Planetary
assaultwillonlybepossiblewithdroppods.’Abaddonhadshakenhishead.‘Thatwon’tbenecessary.We’llwinthisfightwithoutsettingfootonthe
worlditself.’IrememberpreciouslittleofthejourneytoHarmony.IhadaheavydutyatAbaddon’srequest,withno
attentionfreetospareforanythingelse.IbeganmytaskbeforetheAnamnesis’scognitionengineswerefullyinstalledaboardtheVengefulSpirit,andAbaddonwasatleastsensitivetothefacthewasconsigningmetothisdifficultdutywithoutevenknowingItzara’sfate.‘YouwillseeheroncewereachtheCanticleCity,’hepromisedme.‘Shewilltriumphandruleorshe
willbesubsumedandserve.Butonewayoranother,youwillseeherwhenyouawaken.’Hiswordswerescarcereassurance.Nevertheless,Icommittedmyselftothetaskhewishedofme.Ikneltinthecentreofthestrategium,reachingoutwithmysensesnightafternightanddayafterday.
Everyiotaofmyfocuswasdevotedtoclingingontoacoldpresenceoutsidetheship,holdingitinmypsychicclutchanddraggingitwithusthroughtheEye’sunquiettides.Imaginehaulingacorpseacrossanoceanofthickfluid.Imaginethatgruellingswimwithatiredgripthatthreatenstocomeloosewithonlyaheartbeat’sdistraction.Thatwasmytask.AstheVengefulSpiritsailed,Ipulledamonumentaldeadweightinourwake.Iwasscarcelyevenawareofthepassingoftime.Mybrotherstoldmelaterthatourpassagewasa
matterofseveralmonths’sailing,yetIrecallnothingmorethanthemigrainesmearofunclearvisionandtheendlesswhispersoftheDamnedandtheNeverborn.Timeceasedtohaveanymeaning.SometimesitfeltasthoughIhadonlyjustbenttomytask–othertimesIstruggledtorememberanythingofmylifebeyondtheabsolutefocusnecessarytodowhatAbaddonhadaskedofme.Iremembersweatingwiththeeffortitdemandedofme.Effortandlittleelse.Inthatregard,theerosionofmymemoryisamercy.Ididnothingbutconcentrate,sweat,curseandache,forseveralmonths.ItwasNefertariwhofedmenutrientpastesandbroughtwatertomylips.Itwasmybloodwardwho
massagedandworkedmymuscles,preventingcrampsandensuringIdidnotwasteaway.Ineverthankedher,forIneverknewshewasthere.SheandGyrewatchedovermeinmymeditativekneel,thealienleavingonlytorestinherAerie,andthewolfneverleavingmysideatall.IhadrestoredTelemachonbeforeundertakingmyduty.Theswordsmanwouldconfesstomelaterthat
hecametostareatmemanytimesduringthejourney,consideringwhethertostrikeorstayhishand.Hemadehisresistancesoundlikehewasgrantingmemercy,butIamnotafool.HefearedGyreandNefertarithen,justashealwayshassince.Toactagainstmewouldinvitedestructionattheirclaws.Isensednoneofthistensionatthetime.ThereIknelt,silentandlostinfocus,pullinganinfiniteweight
ofcoldsteelanddeadironthroughthevoidbehindus.Eventuallytherewasavoice.Itwasadeep,gutturaltone,penetratingtheseethingpressureofmy
concentration.Itspokemyname.‘Khayon.’Ifeltahandonmyshoulder.Afraternaltouch,firmandgrateful.Itbroughtmebacktomyselfslowly,so
veryslowly.ThebrightlightsoftheVengefulSpirit’scavernousbridgewereacidinmyeyes.Soundreturnedtome
inarushofchatteringservitorsandshoutingcrew.Ittookalmostafullminuteformetobeabletoseetheocculusscreen,whereabeautifulplanetofredearthandblackseasturnedbeforeus.Itslonelandmassboreasinglegreatmanmadescabvisiblefromorbit,theblackandgreyofwhatcouldonlybetheCanticleCity.‘Water.’Thewordwasadrycroakfrommyparchedthroat.‘Water.’Nefertaribroughtwatertomylipsinatincup.Themetallicflavouroffiltrationchemicalsandold
mouldcoursedacrossmytongueinacoolingrush.NeverhadItastedanythingsosweet.Realityreturnedtomystrainedsenses,littlebylittle.Theshipwasshakingaroundme.Ihadawoken
whilethebattlewasunderway.‘Itzara?’Iaskedmybloodward.‘Themachine-spirit...’Icouldbarelyspeak.Mydesiccatedthroat
refusedtoopen.‘Isshe...?’‘Shelives.’Nefertaripressedcoldfingertipstomyforehead.Herskinwasflushedwiththehealthofa
recentfeedingandherblackhairwasahand’sbreadthlongerthanithadbeenbeforeIenteredmytrance.Monthshadpassed.Iwashavingtroubleprocessingthatfact.
‘Shewon?’‘Shelives,’theeldarrepeated.‘Khayon.’Abaddon’spresencerestoredmyscatteredthoughts.Hestoodnearby,thepastcometolifeat
myside.GonewasthepatchworkarmourofthepilgriminHell,replacedbythepittedandcrackedsuitofwar-platecastinJustaerinblack.Hewasarmedwithaplainpowerswordandnothingmore.Iexpectedhishairtobeliftedbackandworkedintoitsornate,tribaltopknot,butitremainedinafilthysnarledfallagainsthisfeatures.‘Areyouready,mybrother?’Iwasnotsureoftheanswertothatquestion.Sluggishnessreigned;theinteriorclockworkofmymind
feltthickwithrancidoil.Iforcedmystingingeyestoseekouttheocculus.Everythingwashappeningtooquicklyformetokeeppace.OrderswerespokeninlanguagesIunderstood,yetstilltheirmeaningwaslostonme.Afleetringedus,chasedus,soughttoblockus–escortfrigatestearingaheadoftheirparentcruisersin
eagerattackruns.Weapons-firehammereduselesslyagainsttheVengefulSpirit’sinviolateshields.IsawTzah’q,performinghisoverseerdutiesaboardthisnewcommanddeck.TheTlaloc’screwof
thrallsandslavescalledoutreportsandmannedtheirstationswithasenseofcontrolled,orderedurgency.Isensedtheirrazoreagerness,theirhunger,andfelttheairaroundthemthickenwiththeirripeningauras.Experiencecalmedthemwheretheymightotherwisehavepanicked.Allwereworking,callingoutreports,doingwhattheyweretoldandwhattheyweretrainedtodo.‘Ultio,’Abaddoncalledacrossthebridge.‘Speak.’‘Voidshieldsholding,’camethevoiceoftheAnamnesis,echoingacrossthecavernouschamber.‘Beready.We’reabouttocastthespear.’‘Abaddon,’shesnappedback,hervoicenotjustchargedwithemotionbutsaturatedwithit.She
soundedeagertothepointoflaughter.‘Letmekillthem.Letmeteartheironfromtheirships’bonesandstrangletheminthecoldofthevoid.’‘Soon,Ultio,soon.’Affectioncolouredhisvoice.Affectionforhermurderousreplies,perhaps.‘Keep
theshieldshighaswemoveintoloworbit.Runouttheguns.’‘Icomply.’Assheagreedtohisorder,thatiswhenIsawher.TheAnamnesiswasnotlockedawayandsealed
behindguardeddoorsdownintheheartoftheship,asshehadbeenontheTlaloc.Hercontainmenttankstoodattheheartofthestrategium,offeringheranunparalleledviewofthebridgeanditscrew.Thesecondarycognitionpodsstoringhervastintellectwereaffixedacrossthecommanddeck’swallsandscatteredovertheceilinglikeahiveofrattling,clankingbeetles.ManyofthemhadreplacedthebannersofoldwarshangingfromtheraftersbeforetheVengefulSpirit’sreactivation.Fromthecentraldais,whereHorusLupercalhadonceheldcourt,theAnamnesisfloatedinher
armouredlife-supportshell,predatoryemotionmakingherfeaturestwistintoasnarl.Herfingerscurledinthecoldaquavitriolo,inresponsetothebloodlustIcouldsenseemanatingfromher.ShelookedmorealivethanIhadseenherinthedecadessinceherentombing.Nothuman,notwiththatferalexpressionofviolenthunger,butdefinitelyalive.Whathadchangedwithinheronceshebondedwiththemachine-spiritofthisempressamongbattleships?Ultio,Abaddonhadcalledher.TheHighGothicwordforrevenge.Anamnesis,Ipulsedtoher.Mythought-voicewassluggishfromdisuse.Khayon,shesentbackacrossthebond.Isensedherdistraction,justasIsensedherthoughtswere
turnedentirelytowardsthepleasureofhuntinglesserprey.Vermincrawlacrossmyskin,prickingatmyfleshwithlittlescratchesofplasmaandlaser.Ihaveneverheardyouspeaklikethis.Whoareyou?
Theanswercameinasensoryfloodofidentity.IamtheAnamnesis.IamItzaraKhayon,sistertoIskandarKhayon.IamtheVengefulSpirit.IamUltio.Reliefclashedhotwithurgentconfusion.Iburnedtoaskherahundredquestionsbuttherewasnotime,
notimeatall.‘Now,mybrother,’Abaddonsaid.‘Throwthespear.’Thespear.Myduty.Imusteredmystrengthonelasttimeontheimmenseweightoutthereinthevoid.FirstIrakedbackthe
concealingshroudofAetheriahidingthespearfromsight.Theenemyfleetimmediatelyturnedtheirgunsuponit.‘Faster,Khayon.Faster.’‘You.Arenot.Helping.’‘Launchthespear!’Iwrappeditwithastranglinggrip,feelingeverycoldcontourwiththetouchofmymind.Andthen,
witheveryiotaofconcentrationIpossessed,IhurledthespearattheworldcalledHarmony.Blacknessclosedaroundmeinthatmoment.Mysensesdesertedme.Mymemoryfledwiththem.TheothershavesincetoldmethatIrosetomyfeet,handscurledintoclawsasIscreamedatthecityI
wasabouttokill.IcannotsayifthatistrueforIremembernothingbutexultant,dizzyingreliefwhenthespearleftmypsychichold.Sometimesyouaremostawareofaburdenwhenitfinallyleavesyourback.TheVengefulSpiritshiveredinsympathywiththeAnamnesisinherlifepod.Realitycoalescedaround
meintimetowatchthespearcutthroughtheenemyfleet,toofastfortheirponderousgunstofollow,andcatchfireinHarmony’satmosphere.Abaddonremainedatmyside,helpingmetomyfeet.Nauseawrackedmebeyondwhatmyenhanced
physiologycouldtolerate.Queasywithweaknessinthewakeofmypsychicefforts,IwatchedasAbaddon’sgambitplayedoutbeforeoureyes.
TheCanticleCitywaspreparedtorepelassaults,withitsskylineofarmouredbastionsaimingdefenceturretsandflakcannonstowardstheheavens.Butwhilefightingbackaninvasionisonething,resistingacataclysmisanother.EveninmyweakenedstateIcouldnotresistwatchingthespearfall,seeingitthroughthethoughtsofthedoomedsoulsonthesurface.DaylightdiedabovetheCanticleCity.Throughthewide,upturnedeyesofworkermenials,pleasure
slaves,andIIILegionwarriors,Isawthegun-battlementslightupinhelplessrageasashadowgrewinplaceofthesun.Theshriekinghymnsbroadcastfromvox-towersweredrownedoutbythemetal-hammeringofdefencebatterieslightingupthedarkeningsky.Theblackshapethatswallowedthesunburnedasitfell,firstaflamewithatmosphericentry,thenonfirefromtherageoftheCanticleCity’sguns.Acrackofthundersplittheskyasthefallingspearbrokethesoundbarrier.Itwasnolongerfalling
straight–itrolledasitplummeted,itshullstreamingblacksmokeanditsspinalbattlementsscreamingwithfire.LessthanaminutepassedfromthemomentitenteredHarmony’satmospheretotheseconditstruckthe
ground.Longenoughtoletthepopulationseedeathfallingtowardsthem.Notlongenoughtodoanythingaboutit.ItsmashedintotheearthwiththeforceoftheWarGod’saxe.EveryeyeIhadbeenlookingthrough
suddenlywentblind.EverysenseIhadbeensharingwentdarkandcold.Fromorbit,allwecouldseewasthespreadingblacknessofchokingsmokebloomingoverthecity.Oursensorsrecordedtectonicunrestgraveenoughtosendtremorsripplingacrosstheothersideoftheworld.Harmonyitselfwasheavingwithtorment.
WhenIthinkofthatnightnow,Istillfeelthesenseoflossthatfollowedthespear’sfall.TheTlalocwasalmosttwokilometresandeightmegatonnesofancient,ironcladanger.OnceithadsailedthestarsinthenameoftheXVLegion,crewedbytwenty-fivethousandloyalsouls.IhaddraggeditsemptycorpseacrosstheEyeofTerror,justasAbaddonhadaskedofme.AndthenIhadhurleditrightintotheheartoftheIIILegion’sfortress.OntheVengefulSpirit’sbridge,acheerrosefromathousandthroats,almostdeafeningtomy
recoveringsenses.Ihadriskedmysisterandsacrificedmyship.Nowtheywereallcheering.IthoughtforamomentthatIhadgonemad.‘That’sforLupercalios!’Falkuscrashedbothofhisthunderhammerstogetherintriumph.‘Mayyouall
chokeontheashes.’Abaddonturnedfromthesmokydevastationcloudingacrosstheocculus.Hisquietwordscarriedinthe
wakeofthecheering,becomingabreathofcalmafterthehurricaneofsound.‘Ultio,takeusbackupintohighorbit.’‘Icomply.’‘Theratsareabouttofleethesinkingship.Let’sbreaktheirbacksastheyrun.’Theshipshookasitsenginesroaredlouder,hotter.TheAnamnesismovedinmimicry,driftinghigherin
hertankwithherteethclenchedtight,willingtheshiptorisewithher.IcouldstillbarelybelievewhatIwasseeing.Herpresencehere,beforesomanysouls.Hervitalityinformandspeech.‘Khayon,Telemachon,gettotheboardingpods.’IheardAbaddon’swordsbutmadenomovetoobeyhim.Therewastoomuchtotakeinaboardthe
bridge.Mountedhighabovethetiereddeck,theocculusshowedthirtyexternalviewsoftheVengefulSpirit’shull,eachfromauniqueangle.Ourvoidshieldswereflaringinkaleidoscopicripplesundertheineffectivefireoftheenemyfleet.‘They’rebeginningtoannoyme,Ultio,’Abaddonobservedwithadistractedair.‘Startkillingthem.’‘Icomply.’StandingaboardaGloriana-classbattleshipwhenitopensfireisanexperiencelikenoother.
Mankind’sentiresphereofinterstellaringenuityismanifestinthebrutalhammeringtoyourhearingandyourbalance.Nodampenerscanmasktheunbelievablecannonadeofacity’sworthofgunsbellowingtheirpayloadsintotheblack.Nograviticstabiliserscanwhollyhidethethunderthatshakesthroughthevessel’smetalbones.Runesbegantoflashoutofexistenceontheflickeringtacticalhololithprojectedintheairabovethe
menialcrewstations.Sweepingviewsontheocculusshowedfrigatesanddestroyersreducedtoburninghulks,tumblingintoHarmony’satmosphere.TheAnamnesisscreamedwitheverybarrage.Eachvolleyfromhergunsearnedanothercryacrossthe
bridgevox;Icouldnottellwhichwascomingfirst,hercriesorthecannonfire.Thetwowereindivisible.Herhandswerecurledintotalonsasshestaredoutfromhertank.Idoubtedshewasseeinganyofusnow.Hervisionwasboundintotheship’sscanningsystems.Shewasseeingthevoid,andthevesselssheslaughteredwitheverytwitchofherfingers.Butwewerenotinvulnerable.Pockmarkscrateredacrossthevoidshields,whichbecametears,andin
turnbecamegapingwounds.Enemycruiserscircledus,runningabeamandriskingavolleyfromourbroadsidesforlongenoughtoletflywiththeirown.Moreprudent–orperhapsmorecowardly–warshipshungbackandcutusfromadistancewiththeirlong-rangelances.IsensedtheAnamnesis’sfrustration,evidentinapressingtidefromherchangedaura.Shewantedtocomeaboutandpursuetheverminthatscratchedather,burningherironskinfromafar.‘Keeptheprowtowardsthewreckageofthecity,’Abaddonordered.Hewasspeakingtothe
Anamnesismorethanthepacksofmutantsservingashelmcrew.Thereseemedtobelesssymbiosisinherbondwiththenewship’screw.TheAnamnesisseemedtorelymuchlessontheirclawedhandsbythehelm’scontrols.‘Icomply,’hervoicewassternoverthespeakers.Irritatedfromapleasuredenied.Icouldnotresistreachingoutwithmysensesagain,seekingtoridethemindsofanythingstill
consciousonthesurface.ThesceneIfoundwasrevelatory.TheheartofthevastnessthathadbeentheCanticleCitysimplydidnotexistanymore.AscreamingmaelstromofliquidfireandviolencehadtornoutinalldirectionsfromtheTlaloc’simpactsite.Everything,everywherewasdust,ashesandflame.Thefallofasinglerockcreteskyscrapercanchokeamoderatelysizedcitywithitsdustcloud.Tryto
imagine,then,theeffectofthevastnessofanentirecityslainbyatwo-kilometre-longwarshiphurledfromorbit,andbearingthousandsoftonnesofvolatilechemicalsandtacticalwarheadsrightintothecity’sheart.Iwouldbesurprisedifyoucan.Thescaldingairwasthickenoughtodrownin.WhereoncetheCanticleCityhadbeenrenownedthroughoutEyespacefortheshriekinghymnsit
broadcastaboveitstoweringskyline–screamsoftorturousecstasyfromtheIIILegion’scountlessvictims–thatskylinesimplydidn’texistanymore.Theonlysongtobeheardnowwasthedeafeningrumbleoftheheavingearth,groaningintectonicunrestoutwardsfromthecolossalcraterinwhathadbeenthecity’spoliticalandstrategiccentre.Dust,ashandsuperheatedsteamwasalreadythrustingskywardsandbeginningitsinevitablespreadacrossthecontinent.ThewoundIhaddealtHarmonycastashadowsimilartothatcausedbythemeteoritethatextinguishedthesaurianreptilesofancientEarthaftertheiruninterruptedreignofthousandsofmillennia.Yethorrificthoughthisphysicaldamageundoubtedlywas,worsebyfarwasthemetaphysicaltraumaI
hadwroughtupontheplanetthatday.IndestroyingHarmony’spopulation,Ihadgivenrisetothousandsofdaemonsbornintheirlastmomentsofhelplessterrorandsearingpain,anditwasthroughtheperceptionsofthesemalignentitiesthatIwasabletostalktheslagandrubblethatwasoncetheCanticleCity.AllaroundmeIcouldsensethingsofrawemotionandviolatedspirit:creaturesofsuffering,terrorand
melancholicdelight.Silhouettesdriftedthroughthemurkaroundme.Mostweretoomalformedtobeevennotionallyhuman.Someseemedtostaggerastheyghostedpast,perhapsgluttedonthehorrorthatbirthedthem.Mostotherswerehunchedover,gritandpebblesclatteringagainsttheirarmouredhidesinatorrentialdownpourastheydevouredthecharredremainsofthedeadcity’smillionsofslaves,servants,alliesandlords,anddranktheirstill-shriekingsouls.Itwasasifamonumentalboilhadbeenlancedandnowthecorruptionwasrunningfreeacrossthe
abusedearth.ItwasAbaddon’svoicethatbroughtmebacktomyselfoncemore.‘Howdoesitfeeltokillaworldwithoneblow,mybrother?’Imanagedaweaksmile.‘Exhausting.’Hisgoldeneyesseemedtoswallowlight.Starsdiethatway,eatingtheilluminationtheyoncegavethe
galaxy.‘Gettotheboardingpods,Khayon.It’salmosttime.’Istilldidnotobey.Thefirstshipswererisingfromthesurfacenow.Theycamewithoutformationor
order,fleeingtheirdoomedplanet.Ilingeredonthebridgeasweopenedfireonthem,sendingsomebacktothegroundinflames,lettingotherspassuntouched.Iftherewasreasonorrhymeinwhichtargetsfeltthelashofourguns,itwasapatternbeyondmyunderstanding.Abaddoneithersensedorguessedmyslowthoughts,answeringthembynoddingoverattheAnamnesis
inherplaceofauthorityandhonour.‘Iamlettinghersliptheleash,’heexplained.‘Lettingourvoidgoddesskillasshechooses.Seehow
shethrives?’UnrestrainedandwithaGloriana’sgunsobeyinghereverybreath,theAnamnesishadamurderous
poiseshehadlackedasthesoul-coreoftheTlaloc.Shewasthewarshipitself,theVengefulSpiritpersonified,anditshowedineverytautmuscleandswipeofherhandsrakingthroughtheaquavitriolo.Shehadnotbeensubsumedbytheflagship’smachine-spirit.Shehadtakenitsarrogantbrutalityintoherself.Abaddonwasright.Shethrived.Shewasmercilesswiththeenemyrefugeeships,rippingthemopenwithkill-shotsfromtheprow
lancesagainandagainandagain,farbeyondthemathematicalprecisionnecessarytosimplycrippleordestroythem.Sheravagedthem.Shegorgedonthem.Abaddonallowedit.Encouragedit.IhadnotseenSargon.HeemergedalmostasiffromAbaddon’sshadow,aiminghiswarmaulatthe
occulus.Hisyouthfulfeaturesremainedperfectlyplacidevenhere,wherecountlessothersamongthecrewwereresortingtoshoutingabovethedin.Sargon,asever,wasthecalmattheheartofthestorm.ItwouldbeatendencyIwouldremarkuponmanytimesinthefuture.AbaddontooknoteoftheWordBearer’sgestureandnodded.Hemirroredit,aiminghisplainsoldier’s
swordattheocculus,markingoutoneshipamongafleeingpack.‘There.’Intunewithhischoice,theship’srunebegantothrobadullredinthetacticalhololith.Ireadthespill
ofdataasourauspexscannerslatchedontothisnewprey.ThePulchritudinous.Lunar-classcruiser,Halcyon-varianthull.IIILegion.Bornoftheorbitaldocks
aboveSacredMars.‘Lettheothersrun,’Abaddonordered.TheAnamnesiswhirledinhertank,handsstillcurledintoclaws.‘But–’‘Letthemrun,’Abaddonrepeated.‘You’vetoyedwithyourprey,Ultio.FocusonthePulchritudinous.
She’sthereasonwe’rehere.’‘Icankillher.’MalevolenceflavouredthetonesofthisnewAnamnesis.‘Icansendhertotheground,
tornopenandaflame...’‘Youhaveyourorders,Ultio.’Itlookedasthoughshewouldresist,choosingtosateherownbattlelustinsteadofobeyinghernew
commander.Butsherelented.Hermusclesloosenedassheexhaledavocalisedbreathacrossthebridgespeakers.‘Icomply.Chasevectorcalculated.’Asthecrewworkedtomakethoseordersareality,Abaddonturnedtomeoncemore.‘It’stime,
Khayon.Ineedyoureadyifthishasanyhopeofworking.’ForthefirsttimeinrecentmemoryIsalutedasuperiorofficer,fistthuddingagainstmyheart.
InthemanythousandsofyearsIhavelivedandfoughtandsurvivedthewarsthatrageacrossourgalaxy,Ihavelongbecomeaccustomedtothedispassionofbattle.Battlemightstirtheblood,especiallywhenyoufaceahatedfoe,butarushofadrenalineisnotthesameaschaoticpassion.Emotionisacceptable.Alackofcontrolisnot.OneofthegreateststrengthsoftheBlackLegionisthatwarholdsnomystiquetous.Wefightbecause
wehavesomethingworthfightingfor,notbecausewestriveinfeveredcontestforthepromiseofintangibleglorybeneaththeeyesoftheGods.Warismundanetous.Itiswork.Wehavestrippeditdowntoitsbones,revealingitasnothingtofear
andnothingtocelebrate–itissimplyourtask,andonewemustcarryoutwithsavage,veteranfocus.The
BlackLegion’smartialvirtuesarenotmeasuredinhowmanyskullswetakeorhowmanyworldstrembleatourname.Ourprideliesincold-bloodedconcentration,inruthlessefficiency,inwinningeverybattlewecan,nomatterthecost.Momentsofindividualtriumphandhot-bloodedglorystillexist–wearestillpost-humanwarriorsand
thusslavedtothevestigesofhumanemotionwecarry–buttheyaresecondarytotheLegion’saims.Itisnotaboutsacrificingemotionandvitality,butaboutharnessingthemtoagreaterend.TheLegionisall.Whatmattersiswinning.Throughsuchloyaltyandunity,wedotheworkofourLegionandtheworkoftheWarmaster,nottheworkofthePantheon.Andafterthebattle?LettheFourGodsempowerwhomevertheysochoose.LettheImperiumdemonise
whomeveramongusthatitwishestocurse.Theseconcernsareforlessermen.Atleast,suchisourideal.IwouldbelyingifIclaimedeveryBlackLegionwarlordwasabovesuch
things.Likeanyfactionorconqueringforce,wehaveastandardthatnoteverysoulisabletoliveupto.TheEzekarionfallshortattimes.Ihavetakentheskullsfromhard-foughtbattlesmorethanonce,orlostallpretenceofpatienceandshoutedmynameandtitlesintothefacesofcoweringfoes.EvenAbaddonhaslapsedfromthepathoverthecourseofthemillennia.Revelation,asheissofondof
saying,isaprocess.ThetakingofthePulchritudinousshapedusevenbeforeweformallyworetheLegion’sblack.
Abaddonspatonanynotionofgloryorrenown.Hestruckwithoverwhelmingforcetoachieveasinglegoal.NolingeringintheskiesaboveHarmony,cuttingtheenemyfleetintoscrapandpoundingeverycityintodust.Noopeningthreatsacrossthevox,demandingthesurrenderandsubmissionofaweakerfoe.Hecasttheenemyintodisarray,thenwentforthethroat.Victoryaboveallelse.IthadbeensolongsinceIfoughtforsomethingotherthansurvival.That,morethananythingelse,
lingersinmymindfromthatday.Ihadbrothersagain.Wehadordersandaplanofattack.Wehadasharedpurpose.Ofthebattleitself,Iwilltellyouthis:itwasbluntinitssimplicity,thoughmoreferociousthananyof
ushadexpected.Boardingactionsarealwayssavageaffairs–onesidefightswithitsbacktothecorner,theotherfightsalmostwhollycutofffromreinforcement.SomeoftheworstdepredationsofwarfareIhaveeverseenhavetakenplaceinboardingengagements.Barelyrecoveredfrommytrance,weakenedfromthereleaseofpsychicforcesandstillwithscarcely
anyideaofwhatthelastfewmonthshaddonetotheAnamnesis,Imademywaytotheboardingpodcradles,orderingasquadofRubricaetostayatmyside.Telemachon,NefertariandGyrewerewaitingforme.Myplacewaswiththeminthefirstwave.Thereislittlejoyformeinwhatfollowed.Lieswillservenooneatthislatehour,andIhavepromised
tospeakthetruth,sothatiswhatIwilldo.Here,then,isthetruth.HereishowtheBlackLegionwasborn,baptisedinblood,atacostIcouldneverforgive.
SONOFHORUS
Westruckthehullwithathunderclap’sforce.Beforetheshiveringhadsubsided,wewereslammingreleasetriggersandmovingfromourrestraintthrones,countingeachexcruciatingheartbeat.Drillsandmagna-meltaschewedtheirwaythroughcompactedadamantinealloysas,likeaclingingtick,weboreourwaydownintotheironfleshofthePulchritudinous.‘Tenseconds,’spoketheassaultpod’smachine-spirit.Itsvoiceemergedintothepod’sdarkconfines
fromthreevox-gargoylesthatlookedtobesculptedinasceneofcarvingthemselvesopenanddiningontheirownorgans.Whateversignificancethatheldwasbeyondme.Itriednottoseeitasanomen.‘Fiveseconds,’camethedullvoiceagain.Iclutchedmybolter,readytotakethelead.Otherarmouredbodiesjostledmeinthedark.Ismeltthe
powderymuskofNefertari’swingsandthechemicaltangofTelemachon’sveins.Bothofthemwererazor-keenandripewithadrenaline.Theystankofbloodlust.MekhariandDjedhorwereMekhariandDjedhor–lifelessyetreassuring.‘Breach,breach,’statedthemachine-spirit.‘Breach,breach.’Thepod’sirisairlockswirledopenoncomplaininghydraulics,revealinganemptycorridorbeyond.
Telemachonlookedtomeforananswer.Ireachedoutwithmysenses,seekingthetouchofsoulsnearby.Thoughtsandmemoriesmetmy
questingawarenessalmostatonce.Amessofhumanityandmonstrositythatsentmesnappingbackintomyskull.‘Mortals.Apackofthem.Undisciplined.’Telemachonthumbedtheactivationrunesonthreegrenades.Whenhethrewthem,theyricochetedoff
thewallswithmusicalclattering.Thetangledmessofhumanemotiondissolvedinthemoansandshrieksthatfollowedtheexplosions.Smokefloodedthecorridor.Telemachonslippedoutintoit.Follow,IbademyRubricae.Wemoved.TelemachonledusthroughthesmokeatadeadrunthatforcedtheRubricaetolean
forwardsingracelessstompingstrides.Whateveralchemywasintheswordsman’sgrenadesclungtoourceramitewitharesinoustenacity.Theashenstuffcoatedallofus,turningourarmouradullgrey.Onlythebladesofourweaponswereclean,theirpowerfieldscracklingwaspishlyastheyburnedawayanydirt.MorethanonceTelemachonlookedbackatme,andIsensedthetumultofemotionroilingbehindhis
facemask.RestoringhimtohisformerselfhadallowedhimthecapacitytofeelhisownGod-heightenedemotionsagain,butinfreeinghimIhadlostanytrustIfeltinhispresence.Gyrekeptpacewithus.IfeverIrequiredremindingthatshewasnotatruewolf,itshowedinhow
untroubledshewasbythestickyash,evenasitmattedherfurandcoatedherunblinkingeyes.Shesaw
throughothermeansthansight.Nefertariwasasash-paintedastherestofus,thoughhercrested,angularhelmofalienmanufacturecast
amoredistinctivesilhouette.Therewassomethingbeakedandraptorishaboutherhelmet–forreasonsIdidnotknowshehadcresteditwithaplumeofwhitefeathers.Theywereinstantlyfilthy.Mybloodwardwasfestoonedwithweaponry.Exoticpistolsandcut-shortaliencarbineswerebuckled
toherarmourplating.Inherhandssheheldacurvedbladealmostastallasthemaidenherself–aklaive,rareevenamongherkind,itsshimmeringsidesetchedwithtwistinghieroglyphs.DespitethedullnessofherCommorraghanaura,Isensedherexcitementatbeingfreeatlast:freetohunt,freetotastepain,freetoquenchherunendingsoul-thirst.Eldarexcitementhasastrangepsychicresonance.Hershadanunhealthysweetness,likehoneyonthebackofthetongue.‘Myvox-linktotheshipiscorrupted,’Telemachonspokeoveroursuit-to-suitproximitylink.‘Asismine.’Ashur-Kai?Khayon?Myapprentice?Ithasbeenalongtimesinceyoucalledmethat.Forgiveaformermentor’sconcern.AfteryourfeatoftelekineticprowesswiththeTlaloc,Iworried
thatyouwouldbeweakformonthstocome.Butweshallspeakofsuchthingslater.Weshall.InformAbaddonweare...Wait.Wait.Telemachonhelduphishand,haltingusasweemergedfromtheauraofthesmokegrenades.A
creature,partNeverborn,partlab-forgedmonstrosity,prowledthedeckahead,comingcloserinaraggedstoop,itsthreelimbsill-suitedformovement,foreachonewasachitinous,jointedblade.ThefirstthingIdiscernedwasthatithadnoeyes,trackingbysnuffingtheair.ThesecondthingIsawwasthatitsorganswereontheoutsideofitsflesh.Ashur-Kaihadnotbeenwrong.Ihatedtheweaknessstillcoursingthroughme.Afterscarcelymovingin
months,thefrailtyinmyachingmuscleswastobeexpected,butamanhashispride.Ihadbeenawarrior-commanderformostofmylife.TobeescortedanddefendedbymykindredonamissionIcouldhavedonealonewasaslightagainstmydignity.Thecreatureambledcloser,eyelesslyhuffingattheair.Saernwaswearyinglyheavyinmyhands.
Withoutthinking,Isummonedstrengthbylettingthewarpseepthroughmyenfeebledflesh,rejuvenatingme.ThemomentIfelttherelievingtouchoffreshstrength,thecreatureturneditselongatedheadtowards
me.Thefleshofitsfacelessvisagepeeledopeninapuncturinghole,suckinginairwithgreat,wetheaves.WhowhowhowhowhoNefertarimovedbeforeIcould.Shelaunchedforwards,herklaivesingingwithelectricaldischarge.
Thecreature’sheadclangedtothedeck,decayingrapidlyintopulpyslush.Thebodyfollowedsuit,spasmingasitmelted.Wemovedon,weaponsattheready.InformAbaddonwearealmostready.Helooksimpatient,Khayon.Thenrelaymymessageandsethimatease,oldone.‘Theycansmellyou,’Telemachonsaidsoftly,withoutlookingback.‘Iwillbemorecareful.’‘Notyou,Khayon.Her.’Ilookedtomybloodward.Nefertari’swide,widesmilewasthemostinhumanexpressionshehadever
worn.Ichorfizzledawayalongthekillingedgeofherklaive.
‘WefacethechildrenoftheYoungestGod,’Telemachoncontinued.‘Theysmellhersoul.’Theswordsmanledtheway.Wefoughtagainandagain,alwayskillingthecreaturesthatconfrontedus
beforetheycouldfleeorshriekforaid.ThosethatrearedupandfaceduswerebroughtdownbyGyre’sfangs,Telemachon’sblade,andNefertari’sklaive.Ireluctantlyconservedmystrengthfortheeffortyettocome.Thatinitselfwasatrial.Allthewhile,thehullshookaroundus–firstwithweaponimpactsfromtheVengefulSpirit,andthen
withthePulchritudinous’sowngunshelplesslyreturningfire.‘Whocommandsthisship?’IaskedTelemachon.‘PrimogenitorFabius.’Therewasnomissingtherevulsionintheswordsman’svoice.‘Wedonotcallit
thePulchritudinous.WecallittheFleshmarket.’‘Delightful.’‘Begladwe’reboardingitnow,whenallisinchaosaftertheevacuation.Thisafortressofhorrors,
sorcerer.IfthePrimogenitorhadpreparedforus,wewouldalreadybedead.’Evenso,wefacednoshortageofresistancejustfromthefoulnesslefttowanderandrotintheship’s
halls.Nefertariwetherklaiveineverypassageway,butcheringherwaythroughbonecraftedhumanthrallsandmonstrousNeverbornthatreekedofalchemicalmeddling.Livingintheunderworldtendstostealyourcapacitytofeelshockatanycreature’sphysicalform,butthesewereasickeningblendofhuman,mutantandNeverborn–rottingwhilealive,stinkingofnaturalandunnaturalexcretionalike.Ichor,pusandwarp-craftedchemicalsranliketearsdownstitchedandswollenfaces.Ihelduptheseveredheadofsomethingthathadbeenhumanbeforeitwas‘gifted’withthreerowsof
filedteethonitsupperandlowerjaws.Itstillstaredatmewithitsremainingeye,itsalteredmouthbitinguselesslyinmydirection.EateateateatWithmygripinitshair,Ismashedtheheadopenagainsttheclosestwall.Inseveralcorridorswefacedfullyhumancrewarmedwithzealintheirpurposeanddevotiontotheir
masters,butlittlethatcouldactuallydousharm.Theyhadtwowaysofplayingwar’sgames:eithertochargeinherdsofsweating,screamingfleshorstandinscatteredranksandopenfirewithpistols,autogunsandslugrifles.Donotmistakethisbehaviourforcourage.AnImperialGuardsmanstandinghisground,consigninghis
soultotheEmperorandshoutingdefianceatusaswebutcherourwaythroughhistrenches–thatiscourage.Futileandmisplaceditmaybe,butitisundeniablycourage.Whatmetusinthosehallswastorturedmadnessinrags,withthefanaticismoffoolswritplainacross
theirmutilatedfaces.Theyscreamedforthenoticeoftheirmasters,fortheblessingsoftheYoungestGod,forthelucknecessarytolivethroughthedeaththatwalkedamongthem.Manywarbandsgointobattlewithherdsofsuchbolterfodderaroundthem.Theyareusefulforanynumberoftacticaltasks,notleastforcingtheenemytowasteammunitionandwearythemselvesindestroyingtheloyalwretches.WeusethemnowintheBlackLegion,hordesofthemspreadingoutacrossthebattlefieldbeforeourarmies,drivenonbythefearsomechantsofourapostlesandwarpriests.Courageexistsinabundanceamongourhumanandmutantfollowers,makenomistake.Butnotthere,
notthatdayaboardthePulchritudinous.Thesewerethedregsofservitudeandfailedexperimentation,draggedaboardanevacuatingshipbytheirfleeingmasters.TelemachonandItookthevanguard,wadingintoanironwallofsmallcalibrefire.Itbrokeagainstmy
armourlikehailstonesonatank’splating.Oursofterarmourjointsweremorevulnerable–apinprickstabbedintothejointofmyrightelbowasabullethithome.Anotherpinchedatthesideofmyneck,becomingapulseofstingingpressureagainstmyspine.Theywereirritants,wearyingmefurther.Not
serious.Notlethal.Thewarpflowedthroughmeinoperaticcrescendo.Iwasscarcelyguidingit.Controltookcareand
concentration,andIwastooweaktomustermuchofeithervirtue.WhenIreleasedthetidesofunseenpowerdownthedarkhallways,itburstthroughtheunresistingfleshoftheIIILegion’sslavesinspinesofboneandsloughingpuddlesofskin.Mutation,uncheckedandunbornfromanyemotion,eruptedamongthem.Wedidnotstoptoputthosethingsofboilingfleshandwarpingboneoutoftheirmisery.Theysealed
theirfatesthemomenttheyraisedweaponsagainstus.Telemachonledthewayunerringly.ThehomogenisationofImperialtechnologyshouldhavebeenan
aidtous,withoneLunar-classcruiserstructuredthesameasanyother,butIwassoondisoriented.Theship’sinnardswerealabyrinth,thoughwhetheritwastheresultofmywearinessortheworkofthewarp,Icannotsayforcertain.IttookusfarlongerthanIanticipatedbeforewefinallyreachedachamberlargeenoughforthenextstageofAbaddon’splan.ALunar-classcruiseroperatesatafullcrewcomplementofoverninetythousandsouls.Ifeltasthoughwehadmurderedourwaythrougheverysingleoneofthem.‘Doit,’saidTelemachon.Ibristledathistone.Tiredornot,killingfireserpentinedacrossmyfingers,hissingasitsuperheated
theairaroundmyhands.‘Doitplease,’Telemachoncorrectedwithsaccharineindulgence.Hecameveryclosetodyinginthat
moment.IbreathedoutmyangerandliftedSaern.Ashur-Kai?Iamready,Khayon.Icarveddown,rippingawoundintheair.Elsewhereinorbitabovethedying
world,Ashur-Kaididthesame.IexpectedLheorandUgriviantoappearfirstthroughtheconduit,orperhapsFalkusifhischolercould
notbecontained.IhadnotexpectedoneoftheNeverborn.Theweaklingthingfellfromthetearinrealityasifhurledfromtheportal,itsscaledfleshbreaking
openwiththeforceitstruckthedeck.Beforeanyofuscouldreact,animmenseblackboothammeredthecreature’sheadintosludge.Abaddonsteppedthroughtheconduit.ThejointsnarlsofhisTerminatorwar-platewerethethrottle
roarsofstrainingtankengines.Veinsranblackbeneathhissallowskin.Hisgazeburnedwithpsychicgold.Inonehandhecarriedhisbatteredpowersword.Intheotherhe...he...Irecoiledfromhimashestrodeforth.Theclawsofhisrighthandwerescythebladesstillringingwith
theresonanceoftheEmperor’smurder.HewaswearingtheTalon.HehadboardedtheshipwearingtheTalonofHorus.Itseffectwasalmostaspunishingasthefirsttimehehadrevealedit.Itsnearnessoverwhelmedme,
fillingmyskullwiththecopperreekofSanguinius’ssupernaturalbloodandthewhispersofthousandsuponthousandsofhissonsacrossthegalaxy,sufferingwithgeneticdefectsinthewakeoftheirprimarch’sdeath.Icouldheareverysingleoneofthem–heartheprayersintheirhearts,heartheirgrowleddevotionsandwhisperedmantras.ButIdidnotfall,andIdidnotkneel.Ikeptmyfeet,facingmybrotherwhoboretheweaponthathad
killedaprimarchandtheEmperorwithinthesamehour.Intheyearstocome,whenIwouldstruggletolookathimbecauseofhisinsidiousdaemonbladeandtheeternalsingingofthePantheon’schoirspraisinghiminworship,IwouldalwaysrememberthisasthefirstmomenthebecamemyWarmasteraswellasmybrother.BehindhimcamethehulkingformsofFalkusandtheJustaerin,shadowscoalescingintorealityasthey
passedthroughtheconduit.‘Whydidyoubringthat?’Iasked,catchingmybreathfromthelightningclaw’soppressiveshroud.Such
wasthestrengthofitsspiritthatitprojectedanauralikealivingbeing.AbaddonliftedthegreatTalon,closingandopeningthescythebladeswithmurderoustheatre.‘Thepoetryofthemoment,Khayon.Withmyfather’sownweapon,Iwilldestroyallhopeofhis
rebirth.Now...Where’sthatmongreldogwhocallshimself“Primogenitor”?’
Iwillnotwasteinkontheneedlessdetailsofthatbriefbattle.SufficetosaythatwiththirtyJustaerin,sixWorldEatersandonehundredRubricae,weslaughteredeverythingaliveonthatshipbetweenwherewecameaboardandwherewefoundPrimogenitorFabius.Thewarship’shallsranwithbloodandfilth,runnelsofitstrainingthroughtothelowerdecks,raininggoreontheslavestoowisetostandagainstus.SquadsofEmperor’sChildrentookpositionatcriticaljuncturestodefendtheirmaster’svessel,
pouringbolterfiredownthecorridorsattheJustaerinvanguard.BoltsstrikeTerminatorplatewiththeechoingclangofahammerattheforge;hundredsofboltsstrikingmakestheverynoiseofHellitself.Intothiswitheringblizzardofexplosivebolts,Falkusandhiswarriorsadvanced.Tusksandhornsbrokeaway,leavingbloodywoundsintheirwake.Armourshardswereblastedclear,revealingthemutatedfleshbeneath.Stilltheywalked,implacable,overthebodiesoftheirfallenbrethren.Thosewhostoodagainstthemdiedbeneathclawsandhammers,eachfallingblowendingalifeprecioustotheYoungestGod.Thosewhofledboughttheirlivesatthecostofpride.ForeverwouldwerememberthecrewoftheFleshmarketwhobrokeandranbeforetheJustaerin’sgrindingcharge.Abaddonledthem,killingwithhisswordandthedouble-barrelledboltermountedontheTalon’sbulk.
Buttheclaw’sblades,stillstainedwithSanguiniusandtheEmperor’slives,remainedunsullied.TheWarmaster’slaughterechoeddownthehallways.Hedidnotmeanitinpettymockery,Iknowthat,
evenifourenemieslikelytookitassuch.Battle-joyandfraternityflowedthroughhim,enrichinghisaura.Howlonghaditbeensincehemarchedtowarwithhisbrothers?Toolong,toolong.ThiswasAbaddoninhiselement,abattle-king,leadingfromthefront.Westoodathisside,killingas
hekilled,movingamidsttheJustaerinasifwebelongedamongthem.Theyencouragedus.Theywelcomedus.Wewereallonethatnight,wadingthroughhordesofalchemicallyalteredwretchesliningupforthebutcher’sblade.Godsofthewarp,ittookmemonthstocleansethestinkofthatshipfrommysenses.Onlywhenwereachedtheapothecariondidourmarchfinallybreakstride.Allofuswerelongsince
inuredtohorror,soitwasnottheabundanceoffleshheresytakingplaceinsidethosechambersthatbroughtustoahalt.Thewallswereberibbonedwithracksofpreservedhumanmeat,organcontainmentjars,surgicaltools–itwasalaboratorysetupwithinanabattoir,anditsgory,soiledmajestysurprisednoneofus.WeexpectednothinglessfromthewaywardvisionariesandgeneticmagesoftheIIILegion.Whatbroughtustoahaltwasthattheoverseerofthisplacehadsucceeded.Thiswasnotthelaboratory
ofthosewhowerestrugglingandfailingtomanipulateoneofthemostarcaneandflawedsciences.Thiswasthesanctumofmadmenwhohadalreadysucceeded.FrommyfirststepintothechamberIrealisedit;itwasinmyveryfirstbreathofblood-fouledair.We
hadbeenwrongallthistime.TheEmperor’sChildrenwerenotunknowableyearsawayfromacloninggenesis.Theyhadalreadymasteredthatdarkestlore.Wewerenothereassaviours,readytopurgethisplacebeforeanabominationcouldbedone.Wewerefartoolateforthat.EvenAbaddon,sopossessedbybattlelustmomentsbefore,cametoadeadhalt.Hestaredattheblood-
strewnsurgicaltablesandthegreatsustainingtanksthatcontainedhalf-formedperversionsoflife.Servitorsandmind-deadthrallsdriftedbetweenthemachinery,tendingtoitallwithatendernessthathad
noplaceinthisfeculentnursery.HerewastheEmperor’ssacredgeneticprojectrebuiltthroughdaemonicloreandguttergenius.Row
uponrowoflifepodscontainedmutatedchildrenanddeformedadolescents,eachwithafeatureortwothatwejustbarelyrecognised.Oneofthepalestchild-creatureswasmeldedtoasmearofbiologicalmattercoatingonewallofitstank.Itreachedoutfromwhereitwastrappedinthisfusionofmutatedflesh,beckoningmecloser.Theintelligenceinitsstaremademyskinprickleunderthetouchofice.Worsewasthefamiliarityofitsfeatures,andtheaffectioninitsgaze.Khayon,itsenttome,smilingthroughthefaecalmurk.Ibackedaway,weaponsheldintighteningfists.‘Whatisit?’Nefertariasked.Shewastheonlyonenotgrippedbydisgustordread.Toher,thiswasyet
anotherstupidgameplayedbymon-keighbloodmagicians.‘What’swrong?’‘Lorgar.’IaimedSaernatthehalf-meltedinfantinthedirtylifepod.‘ThatisLorgar.’Sensingmyunease,myRubricaestalkedcloser,seekingtoringmeinaprotectivecircle.Iorderedthem
awaywithadistractedpulse.Inanotherofthefilthytanks,fulltothebrimwithoxygenatedmuckinplaceofamnioticfluid,afloating
humaninfant–whiteofhairanddarkofgaze–watchedoureverymovementwithwide,knowingeyes.Itwasoneofthefewunruinedexperiments,appearingoutwardlyperfect.Thatdidnothingtoeasemydisgust.‘GodofWar,’Lheorcursedatthesight.Telemachondroppedslowlytohiskneesbeforethechild.‘Fulgrim,’hewhispered.‘Myfather.’‘Getup,’Isaidtohim.‘Getback.’Thechild-primarchslammeditselfagainsttheglass,expellingvenominaspreadingblackcloudfrom
theroofofitsmouth.Aforkedtonguelashedinfutility,lickingslimefromtheinnersurfaceofitslife-supportprison.Telemachonstumbledback.Thechamberhadroomforhundredsoftanks.Manysocketswereempty,themajorityhousedthrumming
lifepodswithbarelyvisiblelimbsmovingthroughthecarrionwater.Thischamberalonerepresentedheresybeyondmeasure.Wastheremore?WasthisallthePrimogenitorhadbeenabletoevacuatefromHarmony?Weturnedatthesoundofpower-armouredbootsteps.TheApothecaryapproachedusunarmed,wearing
thewhiteandpurpleoftheEmperor’sChildrennearlylostbeneathwhatlookedlikeyearsofencrustedbloodandblossomingmould.Theoverrobewaslikewisestainedwithunnameablefilth.Thinningwhitehairhungtohisshoulders,nowallthatwasleftofaonceregalmane.Hewasnoolderthanmanyotherlegionaries,yethelookedutterlyravagedbytime.Evenso,Irecognisedhim,asdidweall.Abaddonspokeforus.‘Theyearshavebeenunkindtoyou,ChiefApothecaryFabius.’Fabiusexhaledasigh.Evenhisbreathwasfoul–awarmwindofinfectedgumsandtumour-spotted
lungs.Plainlyheexperimenteduponhimselfasfrequentlyashedidhisprisoners,andnotallofhisexperimentsweresuccessful.‘Ezekyle.’Hemadealamentofmybrother’sname.‘Ezekyle,youcannotevenbegintoimaginethe
horroryouhavewroughtuponmethisday.’Hisdeclarationmovedustosilence,notoutofrespectbutblindshockthathewouldevenseekto
entreatustotakehissidewithsympathy.‘Thedamagetomywork...Ilackthewordstoframeitintermsyouwouldeverunderstand.With
wanton,uselessviolenceyouhavedoneindescribabledamagetomywork.Centuriesofstudy,Ezekyle.Lorethatcouldneverbecopied,nowlostforevermore.Andforwhat,sonofHorus?Iaskyou,forwhat?’EvenAbaddon,whohadseenallHellhadtooffer,wasrockedtohiscorebywhathesawallaround
us.Ittookhimamomenttosummonthewordsnecessaryforareply.‘Wedon’tanswertoyou,fleshcrafter.Ifanysoulstandinghereshouldseektojustifyhisactions,it’sthe
onecoveredinhumanexcrementandexhalingcancerousbreath,proudofhisroleinbreedingtheseabominations.’‘Abominations,’Fabiusrepeated,lookingawaytothenearesttanks.Abortedandmalformedgodlings
staredbackathimwiththeunquestioningloveofchildrenfortheirfather.‘Youwerealwayssonarrowofvision,Ezekyle.’Heshookhishead,thestringywhitehairstickingtohisgrimyface.‘Killmethen,Cthonianbarbarian.’Abaddonspokesoftly,asthoughwestoodinasacredcathedralratherthanthispitofalchemicalsin.
Hiswordswereachallenge,buttheyweredevoidofallbravadoandallhumour.‘NotonlydoInotanswertoyou,Fabius,butyou’llfindI’mquiteintractablewhenitcomestoobeying
theordersoflunatics.’HegesturedtotwooftheJustaerin.‘Vylo,Kureval.Takehim.’TheTerminatorswalkedforwards.TheirmethodofrestrainingthePrimogenitorwasbrutallysimple–
theyeachgrippedoneofhisarmsinamassivepowerfist.TheslightestpullwouldteartheApothecary’sbodyapart.Abaddonturnedtome,andIknewwhathewouldaskbeforeitlefthislips.‘Endit,Khayon.’Fabiusclosedhiseyes.Forwhateveritwasworth,hehadthedignitynottoprotest.Irefusedtotakea
lastlookaroundthechamber.InsteadIsalutedAbaddonasIsilentlyspoketomyRubricae.Leavenothingalive.Ahundredboltersopenedintheverysamesecond,rainingatideofexplosivefireacrossthe
laboratory.AsecondlatertheJustaerinandeveryotherwarriorpresentjoinedin.Glassshattered.Fleshburst.Metaldetonated.Thingsthatshouldneverhavebeenbornwailedastheydied.Whentheservitorswerekilledandthemachinerywasshatteredbygunfire,myRubricaeandtheothersturnedtheirbolters,cannonsandflamerstothedeck,hammeringandcharringthedyingmutantswithexecutioners’fire.Afteraneternity,thegunsfellquiet.Fluidsdripped,steamroseandbrokenmachinerysparkedinthe
suddenstillness.Thewholeworldsmeltoftheputrescentbloodfromfalsegods’veins.Fabiuswastheonetobreakthesilence.‘Youstillsolveeveryobstacleinyourpathwiththemindless
applicationofviolence.Nothinghaschanged,hasit,Ezekyle?’‘Everythinghaschanged,madman.’Hesmiledatourprisoner,caressingFabius’scheekwithasingle
scythe-claw.IthoughthemightpeelthefleshfromthePrimogenitor’sfacewithoneslice.Ihopedhewould.‘Everythinghaschanged.’MorebootstepsechoedfromthesameannexchamberfromwhichFabiushademerged.Aheaviertread.
Measured,confident.TheApothecary’swaterystarefocusedontheweapon.‘IseeyoucarrytheTalon.Hewillenjoythe
ironyofthat.’Abaddonnarrowedhiseyes.‘He?’‘He,’Fabiusconfirmed.Andthatiswhenwestartedtodie.
ThemacewascalledWorldbreaker.TheEmperorhadmadeagiftofittoHorusupontheFirstPrimarch’sascensiontoWarmaster.HorusLupercalwascapableofbearingitone-handed,buttheimmensemaulwastoocumbersomeforanyoftheLegionesAstartestowielditwithanygrace.Abludgeonofdarkenedmetal,itsspikedheadalonewasthesizeofawarrior’sentirearmouredtorso.WorldbreakersmashedthroughthefirstrankofmyRubricae,sendingthreeofthemcrashingagainstthe
shell-pockedwalls.Theydidnotjustcrashasideinbonelesstumbles;theycameapartatthejoints,theirentiresuitsofarmourfallingtopiecesandclatteringagainstthewalls.Whateversliveroftheirsoulshadremainedboundbytheirarmourwasgoneinthetimeittookmetobreathe.Ashur-Kaifeltithappen,aswell.HehadfelttheRubricaedieinawaywehadnotbelievedpossible.WhatintheGods’namesisthat?hesenttomeinscholarlyshock.Fortheshadowofaseconditmadenosense.Alloftheotherclonedcreatureswereflawedandwrong.
Howcouldthis...How...?IgraspedaftermylinkwithAshur-Kai.It...ItisHorusLupercal.Notachildclonedfromscrapsoftissueanddropsofblood.Notanabominationhalflosttomutation’s
touchandtrappedinsideacontainmenttank.ItwasHorusLupercal,theFirstPrimarch,LordoftheSpaceMarineLegions.Perhapsatouchyoungerlookingthanwhenanyofushadlastseenhim,andclearlydevoidofthePantheon’stouch.ButstillHorusLupercal,clonedfromcoldfleshharvesteddirectlyfromhisstasis-preservedcorpse,wearingthearmourstrippedfromhisdeadbody.HorusLupercal,cladinhisbreathtakingblackwar-plate,repletewiththelongfallofhiswhite-wolffurcloakandthepaleshimmerofakineticforcefieldprotectinghimlikeahalo.ItwasHorusLupercal,chargingintoourlooseranksandslaughteringuswithWorldbreaker.Hecame
fromoneofthefarantechambers,awokenbyFabiusinreadinessforthismoment.Totheircredit,LheorandthelastwarriorsoftheFifteenFangsreactedfasterthananyofus.Their
heavyboltersgavealeonineroarofthroatychatter,kickingandboomingastheyfiredontheWarmasteroftheImperium,witheverybolthittinghome.ButevenastheirboltstoreatHorus’sarmourandflesh,theirinitiativedidlittlebutdoomthembeforetherestofus.Worldbreakerswungagain,hurlingfourofthemasideinasingleblow.Theystruckthedeckinraggeddisarray.IfeltUgriviandiebeforeheevenhitthefloor.Webroke.Godsoftheveil,ofcoursewebroke.Wedidnotrun,butwebrokeandfellback,scattering
totheedgesoftheroomtoescapethewarmaulofthisenragedrevenant.MyRubricae,muchslowerthanlivingwarriors,marchedbackintheirstatelytread,barelypausingastheyemptiedmagazineaftermagazineofwarp-alteredshellsattheclonedprimarch.Andstilltheydiedwitheveryswing.Gunfireshatteredtheprimarch’sblackceramiteandblewfist-sizedchunksoffleshfromhisbones.Painthreadedhisaura,yetHorusfoughton.Ithrewenergyathim.Ithrewlightning.Ithrewpanicandhatredandangerinaseethingboltof
mutagenicwarpfire.Itburstwhatremainedofhisforcefieldinawhiplashofairpressure,andboiledtheskinandhairfromhishead.Nothingmore.Iwasstilltooweak,andhewasfar,fartoostrong.Hecameforme,then.IraisedSaernonlytohaveitsmashedoutofmyhands,sentskiddingacrossthe
filthyfloor.Hisbootcavedinmybreastplate,hurlingmetothedeck.Ifeltceramiteshardsknifingintomylungsashisfoothammereddown,pinningmebeneathhim.Icouldnotreachmycardstosummonmybounddaemons.NeverhadIneededtheRaggedKnightasIneededhimnow.Nefertaritooktotheair,cuttingpasthimandswingingwithherklaive.Shewasasilkenblur,moving
fasterthanIhadeverseenhermove.Fastenoughtoweavebetweentheboltshellsstreamingaroundher,fastenoughtoslicethroughtheprimarch’scheek,severinghalfofthemusclesinhischarredface.Buthehadweavedaside.She’dmissedthekillingblow.ThefemalewhohadkilledLegionwarlordswithoutsheddingasinglediamondofsweathadmissedherkillingblow.Horuswastoofast,evenforher.Iscreamed,notfrommyownpainbutfromwhatIsawnext.Theprimarch’shandclosedaround
Nefertari’sankleasshetwistedintheairforanothercut,andhedashedheragainstthedeck.Isensedratherthanheardthesoftbonesofherwingssnappingliketwigsonaforestfloor.Allsenseofhervanishedfrommymind.Deadorunconscious,Iknewnotwhich.Thatinitselfhorrifiedme.Shemightbe
dead,murderedbythisdemigod,andIwastooweaktotell.HebrokeGyrenext.Mydaemonwolflaunchedforhisthroat,herclawsrendinghisbreastplateasher
jawsclampedwherethemusclesofhisneckandshouldermet.Shewasinthelineoffire,helplesslyso.Boltshellsfromadozensourcesexplodedintoherandaroundher,burstingherfurandfleshopen.Yetsheenduredit.SheenduredittodistractHorusfromfinishingme,rippingtissueandtendonswitheverysnapofherjaws,everyshakeofherhead.WorldbreakerbrokeGyre’sgripandcrushedherskull,droppinghertothedecklikeaslabofbutcher’s
meat.Halfofherheadwassimplygone,replacedbyacavernousholeandthespillofgrey-redbrainmatter.Hermortalformbegantodissolve,andwithitIfeltherpresencedrainfrommymind,justasNefertari’shad.Horusturnedtomeoncemore–pain,furyandwild-eyedhateradiatedfromwhatlittleremainedofhis
face.Istruggledtorise,tomove,todoanything,buttherewasnostrengthleftinme.Worldbreakerroseandfell.AnotherfigureslammedintoHorus’sside,breakinghisbalanceandcausinghimtostaggersidewaysas
afreshvolleyofboltershellshammeredhome.Thebladethatdeflectedmydeathinashowerofsparkswasmyownblade,myaxe,Saern,heldfastbyoneofmyRubricae.Iskandar,itsent,moreclearlyandmorepresentinmymindthanI’dexperiencedfromanyoftheashen
deadsincethenightoftheircurse.Irecognisedthatvoice.Mekhari...Iskandar,hereplied.NotinaRubricae’shiss,butaman’svoice.Mekharihadpulsedtome.Tomy
eternalregret,Iwastoostunnedtoreply.Hestraightened.Mybrother.Mycaptain.Hisvoicewasclearer.Morecertain,moredetermined.Heturnedhis
featurelessgazebacktoHoruswho,despitetheboltershellsexplodingallaroundandoverhim,hadsomehowmanagedtoregainhisbalancetoadvanceonus.Telemachon’stwinswordsburstthroughthefrontofHorus’sruinedbreastplateinasprayofalmost
toxicallyrichblood.Withoutapause,andfasterthanevenTelemachoncouldwithdrawthem,Horusgrabbedthebladesinasinglegauntletedfist,snappedthem,thenspunaroundandbackhandedtheswordsmanacrossthechamber.Telemachonhammeredintothefarwallwiththetelltaleresonantcrashofceramite.Mekhariraisedmyaxeagain,steppingtowardstheragingdemigod.Farewell,hesent,inmymind.WorldbreakerslammedthroughtheaxeIhadcarriedsincethedeathofmyhomeworld.Saernshattered
inMekhari’shands,hisarmourexplodedlikepottery,andthen...hewasgone.Trulygone.AsgoneasUgrivian.Mybrothershadboughtmetimetorollaway,thoughnotnearlyfarenough.Horusturnedonme,all
beautyinhisbearingnowlosttoinjuryandanger.Tryashemight,hehadnotkilledme.Ilived,thoughithadcostmeeverything.Loomingoverme,heraisedWorldbreakeragain,readytoendmeashehadtheothers.Avoicestopped
him.Asinglecommandingwordthatcutthroughthesoundsofbattle,stoppingeverything.Eventhegunfirefellsilent.‘Enough.’AbaddonstoodbehindHorus.Hehadnotscreamedtheword.Hehadbarelyevenraisedhisvoice.The
absoluteauthorityinAbaddon’stonewasallherequired.InhisarmourAbaddonwastheequalofhisfather’sclone,bothinstatureandinthefuryheemanated.TheWarmaster’snameiswhisperedasacurse
onamillionworldsinthislast,darkmillennium,withmanyImperialpeasants–thosewhoareevenawareoftheeventsthatshapedourempire–believingAbaddontobeHorus’sclonedson.Itwouldnotsurprisethosesuperstitioussoulstolearnthat,inthatmomentastheybothstoodbeforeme,onlytheirwoundsandtheirarmamentsetthemapart.Inallelse,theyweretwins.Horusturnedinablur,Worldbreakerswinginginanarcfasterthanaweaponofitssizeandweight
shouldeverbeabletomove.Abaddonnotonlyparriedthemace,hecaughtit.Heheldit.HegrippeditinthatgreatTalonstainedwiththebloodofagodandHisangel.Fatherandsonfacedeachother,breathingspiteintoeachother’ssnarlingfeatures.Forthefirsttime,
theprimarchspoke.Spitstringedbetweenhisteeth.Theywerecleanandunmarked,notetchedwithCthonianhieroglyphsasAbaddon’swere.‘That.Is.My.Talon.’Abaddonclosedhisfist.WorldbreakerbrokeasSaernhadbroken,shatteringagainstasuperior
weapon.ScrapmetalfellfromAbaddon’sscythedfingers.Ihaveheardthestoriesofthismoment.Perhapsevenyou,hereinthedeepestdepthsoftheImperium,
haveheardthemaswell.Everywarbandhastheirownreflectionoftheseevents.ManyarethetalesofHorus’slastwords;hisentreatiestohisgatheredsonsandnephews;howhegave
agloriousspeechaboutthepossibilitiesofanewera,orhowhebeggedformercywhenfacedwithJustaerinblades.ThereareevenstoriesthatswearHoruswasswollenwiththeblessingsofthePantheonashewasinthelastdaysoftheTerranWar,andthattheGodsthemselveshadresurrectedtheirfallenchampion.ButIwasthere.Therewerenotouchinglastwordsorrousingspeeches,andtheGods,ifpresentatall,
remainedsilentandaloof.Liferarelygrantsusthesametheatreaswefindinlegends.SoIpromiseyouthis,astheaccountofonewhowastherethatday:therewasnodivinechampiongrantedsacredrebirth.TherewasnoimpassionedjudgementdeliveredbyAbaddonasdestinychangedhandsfromoneWarmastertothenext.Therewasaclonedfatherandaprodigalson,surroundedbythedeadandthewounded,sosimilarthat
onlybytheirweaponsandwoundscouldItellthemapart.That,andtheirdifferentsmiles.Horusgaveaconqueror’ssmirkfromwhatremainedofhisface.Recognition,truerecognition,flaredin
theonlyeyehehadleft.‘Ezekyle.’Hisvoicewasabreathofreliefandrevelation.‘It’syou.It’syou,mybrother.’Timestoodstill.Aftereverythingthathadtakenplace,Ithought–againstallreasonandrhyme–that
theywouldembraceaskindred.‘Myson,’saidtheprimarch.‘Myson.’AllfiveofAbaddon’sclawsrammedsodeeplyintoHorus’schestthattheyburstfromhisback.The
scythespushedoutthestuntedremainsofTelemachon’sswords,sendingthebrokenbladesclatteringagainstthefloor.DarkrednessspreadacrosswhatwasleftofthewhitefurcloakdrapedintattersacrossHorus’s
shoulders.Ageneticgod’sbloodraineddownoverme.Ifeltlikelaughingwithoutknowingwhy.Shock,perhaps.Shockandnakedrelief.ThestormbolterontheTalon’sbackkickedthreetimes,buryingsixboltsinsideHorus’sexposedchest
andneck.Theyblastedhimapartfromwithin,addingvisceratothebloodsloppingacrossthoseofusleftprone.Andthatwashowtheystood,asgoldflaredintheeyesofoneandlifefadedfromtheeyesoftheother.
Horus’skneesbuckledbutAbaddonwouldnotlethimfall.Horus’smouthworkedbutnosoundcameforth.Ifhislastwordsfoundanyvoice,Abaddonwastheonlyonetohearit.
Iwasfortunatethatday.NotjustbecauseIsurvivedabattlewithademigodthatshouldneverhavebeenfought,butbecauseIheardAbaddon’slastwordstohisfather.Withaslow,smoothwithdrawal,hepulledtheTalonclearofhisfather’sbody,andthemomentbeforeHorusfell–themomentbeforethelightfinallywentoutintheprimarch’seyes–Abaddonwhisperedfivesoftwords.‘Iamnotyourson.’
THISLASTANDDARKESTMILLENNIUM999.M41
Andso,thefirstpartofourtalecomestoanend.Thoth’squillmayrestforatime,asmyhostsporeoverthesewordsandseekweaknessbetweenthedictatedlines.ButIdoubtitwillrestforlong.Theywillwantmore.TheyhavebeentoldoftheBlackLegion’sgenesis,nowtheywillaskofitsbirthandfirstbattles,aswellastheThirteenCrusadesthatfollowed.Thereisstillsomuchtotell.Somanywarswonandlost;somanybrothersandenemiesfallenintomemory.AftertheCanticleCitycametheIllumination,whenwebattledthosewhowouldnotswearallegiance
totheWarmasterandsoughttoendourrise.DuringthaterawetraversedtheEmpireoftheEye,endingtheLegionWarswithourascendanceabovetheNine,andonebyonetheprimarchsbowedbeforeAbaddon.Somewillingly,someonlygrudgingly,andonewhohadtobebroughttohisknees.Butallofthembowedintheend:Lorgar,Perturabo,Fulgrim,Angron,myfatherMagnus...evenMortarion,whocameclosestofalltoslayingusthroughhisholyplagues.AndafterthatcameourFirstCrusade.ImperialrecordremembersitasthefirsttimetheNineLegions
brokefreeoftheEyeandreturnedtothegalaxyinstrengthagainstanunpreparedImperium.TheNineLegionsrememberitforthetriumphatUralan,whentheWarmasterclaimedhisdaemonblade,Drach’nyen.WeoftheEzekarionhaveadifferentrecollection–or,atleast,onewithaprofoundlydifferentfocus.
PerhapsthenewregentsoftheImperiumdidnotexpectourreturnandsowereunpreparedtofaceus,butnotalloftheEmperor’sservantshadforgottenitswaywardsons.Icanseehimstill:thatancientTemplar-kingsittinguponathroneofhand-carvedbronze,hisarmoured
fingerslacedaroundthehiltofhisgreatblade.Irememberhow,tomysecretsight,hisimmenseprideandhisabsolutefaithinourgrandsireturnedhisauraintoaraginghaloofpearlandgold.‘So,youhavereturned.’Hisvoicewasdeep,asoldastimeitself,yetuncrackedbytheyearsitcarried.
‘Ineverdoubtedyouwould.’Herosesmoothlyfromhisthrone,hisbackstraight,theSwordoftheHighMarshalsheldlooselyinone
fist.Bythatpointhewasaveteranofmorethanathousandyears.Agehadravagedhim,yetheburnedwithlife.Abaddonsteppedforwardthen,gesturingsilentlyforustolowerourweapons.Heinclinedhisheadin
respectfulgreeting.‘Iseetimehasblackenedyourarmourasithasours.’TheancientTemplardescendedthethreestepsfromhisthrone,hisgazefixedontheWarmaster’sface.‘Ilookedforyou.AsTerraburnedinthefiresofyourfather’sheresy,Ihuntedforyou,dayandnight.
Alwayslessermenblockedmyway.Alwaystheydiedsothatyoumightlive.’HecametoahaltnomorethantwometresfromAbaddon.
‘Ihaveneverstoppedsearchingforyou,Ezekyle.Notthroughalltheselongyears.’Abaddonbowedthen,withnohintofmockery.Notinhiseyes,norinhisheart.Ezekylehasalways
cherishedvaliantfoes,andnoneweremorevaliantthanthisknight.‘Iamhonoured,Sigismund.’Bothofthemraisedtheirblades...AndthentherewasCommorragh.ThatendlessnightwelaidsiegetotheDarkCityinourintentionto
wipeoneoftheirnoblehousesfromthefaceofthegalaxy,inpunishmentforthemfortakingNefertarifromme.Abaddonmadenomovetochainmygriefandkeepmeundercontrol.Heencouragedmyrage.Headmiredit.HeorderedtheBlackLegionintothewebwayinsupportofmyfeveredwrath.Thatisloyalty,myfriends.Thatisbrotherhood.Butallofthisisyettocome.‘Khayon,’oneofmycaptorsspeaksmyname,andIsmileatthesoundofitfromahumanthroat.Sheis
theonethatalwayslingerslongestwhentheothersaregone,andasksthemostpressingquestions.Shebringsthequeriesthatmattertome,ratherthanseekingyetanotherdryrecountingofgodsandfaithandweaknessandwar.‘Greetings,InquisitorSiroca.’‘Areyouwell,heretic?’‘Wellenough,inquisitor.Youcomewithaquestion?‘Justone.Inyouraccountsofar,youremainsilentononevitalaspect–you’venottolduswhyyou
surrenderedyourselfintoourcustody.WhywouldalordoftheEzekariondothat?WhydidyoucometoTerraalone,Khayon?’‘Theanswertothatissimple.IcamebecauseIamanemissary.Ibringamessagefrommybrother
Abaddon,tobecarriedtotheEmperor,beforetheMasterofMankindfinallydies.’Ihearherbreathcatchinherthroat.Instinctforcesherreplybeforeshecanevenconsiderwhatshe’s
saying.‘TheGod-Emperorcannotdie.’‘Everythingdies,Siroca.Evenideas.Evengods,andespeciallyfalsegods.TheEmperoristhememory
ofamanenthronedonabrokenengineoffalsehope.TheGoldenThroneisfailing.NooneknowsthatbetterthanthoseofuswhodwellintheEye.WecanseetheAstronomicandying.WecanheartheEmperor’ssongfadingaway.IdidnotcometoTerratosurrendermyselfintoyourhandsinordertolaughatthedyingofHislight,butneitherwillIcoatthetruthinhoneyedliestomakeiteasierforyoutohear.‘Thesearenotreportsonascreentome,inquisitor,orreamsofcasualtyfigurestobeeasilydiscarded.
TheEmperor’sLightisfadingacrossthegalaxy.Howmanyfleetsofvesselshavebeenlosttheselastdecades,toflickersintheAstronomican?Thousands?Tensofthousands?Howmanyworldshavecriedoutinrebellioninthelasttenyearsalone,orscreamedinpsychicdistress?Howmanyhavefallensilentintheshroudofthewarp,nowhometonothingbutthetreadofdaemons?Here,onTerra...CanyouhearanyofSegmentumPacificus’sthousandsofworlds?Aquarterofthegalaxyhasfallensilent.Doyouknowwhy?Doyouknowwhatwarstheyarefighting,whilecloakedinsilenceandshadow?’Sheissilentforatime.‘WhatisthemessageyoubroughtfortheEmperor?’‘Itissimpleenough.Ezekyleaskedmetojourneyhereandstandbeforeourgrandsire,justaswedid
whentheImperiumwasyoung.IwillmeetthedyingEmperor’semptyeyesocketsandtellhimthatthewarisalmostover.Atlast,aftertenthousandyearsofbanishmentintheunderworld,hisfallenangelsarecominghome.’‘DoestheWarmasternotneedyouinhiswar,onthefrontlines?’
‘Iamexactlywhereheneedsmemost,inquisitor.’Ifeelherwatchingmeinthewakeofthoseenigmaticwords.Shejudgesmeforthem,judgestheir
possiblemeanings.Andatlast,shenods.‘Andwillyoukeeptellingyourtale?’‘Yes,inquisitor.’‘Butwhy?Whydoyougiveyourenemieseverythingtheyaskfor?’Ah,suchaquestion.DidInottellyou,Thoth?DidInottellyouthatshewastheonetoaskthe
questionsthatmattered?‘ThesearetheEndTimes,Siroca.NoneofyouaredestinedtosurvivethecomingoftheCrimsonPath.
TheImperiumhasbeenlosingtheLongWarsinceitwasfirstdeclared,andnowweentertheendgame.Iwilltellyoueverything,inquisitor,because,foryou,itwillchangenothing.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ThankyoutomywifeKatie,whowentdowntopart-timeonajobshelovedinordertotakecareofourson(andme),givingmeenoughtimetowrite.AnyonewhoiscrazyenoughtolikemyworkowesherforthefactIstillhaveacareer.Thanksasalwaystomytestreaders/firstvictimsNikki,Rachel,Greg,MarijanandEad–theEzekarion
oftherealworld.Althoughslightlylessevil.ThankstoAlanBligh,LaurieGoulding,GrahamMcNeillandAlanMerrettforthewisdom,advice,and
patiencewithallmyemailsthatbeganwith‘Butwhatabout...’Iswear,mymountainofresearchmaterialforthisnovelwouldchoketheRuinousPowersthemselves.ThankstoRikCooperandNickKyme,notjustforeditorialdutyandamileofslack,butforlettingme
writethisoneinthefirstplace.MaytheDarkGodsblessRaymondSwanlandfortheawesomecover,andmyguildleaderLaurafor
ThatPlotPoint,andAmyBakerforlast-minuteitalics-basededitorialsalvation.ThankstothebandPusciferforthesong‘TheHumblingRiver’,whichfirstinspiredthecharactersof
KhayonandNefertari.
Asever,I’meternallygratefultoWarSeer,Bolter&Chainsword,Heresy-Online,/tg/,DakkaDakka,thereadersacrossFacebookandTwitter,andeveryonewhoshowsuptoeventsandsigningsforthecontinuedsupportandencouragement.
Mostofall,thankstoJohnFrenchandGavThorpe.TheTalonofHorus(andtheBlackLegionseriesthat’llfollow)wouldn’texistwithouttheirinsight,motivation,andtheinsanelylongemailsbackandforthaboutthejuiciest,rarestWarhammer40,000lore.Thankstobothofyouforremindingme‘moremythic,morelegendary’.
Aportionofthisbook’sproceedswillgotoCancerResearchUK,andtheSOSChildren’sVillagescharitytohelporphansinBangladesh.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
AaronDembski-BowdenwrotetheHorusHeresynovelsBetrayerandTheFirstHeretic,aswellasthenovellaAurelianandtheaudiodramaButcher’sNails,forthesameseries.Heisalsoresponsibleforthe
popularNightLordsseries,theSpaceMarineBattlesbookArmageddon(whichcontainsthenovelHelsreachandnovellaBloodandFire),theGreyKnightsnovelTheEmperor’sGiftandnumerousshort
stories.HelivesandworksinNorthernIreland
MoretalesofChaosandtreacheryfromAaronDembski-Bowden.ThefulltrilogyinoneeBook.
ABLACKLIBRARYPUBLICATION
FirstpublishedinGreatBritainin2014.
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