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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CoverillustrationbyRaymondSwanland.

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