Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 514 Horus Awakens

Tonight your soul will be taken from you, and to whom will the things you have prepared belong? - Saint Ilarian, the Ancient Terra

-

Orlanius Persson was not sure if Terra had been this cold before. The towering metal buildings that spread along the plateau seemed frozen to a crispness, and every inch of them was gleaming with a cold light. Palaces, towers, city gates, too many administrative departments piled up from bottom to top, like icebergs floating on the surface of an invisible ocean...

They carefully crept along the road in the shadows, like actors constantly changing positions in the dark on a stage with flickering lights, looking for traces of their target...

The unpleasant smell of chemicals burned his arms. Clanking machines moved outside the exhaust duct where they were hiding. Through the gaps in the mouths of the gargoyles, Orr could see the oily marks left by their rolling tracks on the smooth ground. The buzzing suspension device operated above the dark corridor, commanding the Cherubim to fly in a strange posture. Orr took a look and then looked away, shrinking back into the passage.

Beside him, John Grammaticus wiped the blood off his face and began to write on the wall with a carbon stick. They would only come here once, and when someone discovered the traces they left behind, perhaps they would have reached their destination.

"We need to move again," John wrote with a grin, covering his mouth, "Cold Hall should not be far away."

"You're getting better at using spells," Or mouthed, opening his mouth to take a bite of floating dust.

"Not enough. According to that boy, I shouldn't be hurt." John put down the carbon bar depressedly, grabbed O'er's shoulders, and his throat trembled. He decided to make a move and drag the two of them into the cold hall with a few more words.

His mastery of spells was almost entirely based on consulting the incomprehensible textbooks of former imperial craftsmen. Learning the language by himself was a matter of talent and confidence, so that every time he used a new spell combination, it was like throwing a dice determined by fate...

The air was filled with the smell of sheepskin and old paper, and dust particles were floating in the dim blue light. Orr felt his feet suddenly lose weight, and subconsciously reached out to pull the light ball beside him. A series of interconnected circular lighting devices were all torn apart, and a group of galaxy-like lanterns accompanied Orr and John to smash into a bookshelf in the exhibition hall. Hundreds of precious ancient books poured out of the cabinet like an avalanche in an instant.

Orr fell among the books, and before he could rise, a framed picture fell on his chest, a portrait of an ivory-skinned lady, knocking his head back into the paper.

John Grammaticus fell to his right, wrapped in the lamp belt he had just pulled off, and a lot of blood he shed when casting the spell fell into the ancient book.

"You guys?" An old voice sounded, and Orr took a breath filled with dust, fumbling to hold the picture to support his upper body. He saw an elderly man rushing over with a robe in his hand, staring at them in shock.

"Where are you from?" The visitor looked at the scattered books on the ground with a look of regret. He picked up a book with an unfamiliar name from the top of the collapsed pile of books. When he saw that the contents were not damaged, he felt relieved. O'er found that he was wearing a pair of gloves to protect books.

O'er found a foothold and stood up, picked up John and hung him on his shoulder.

"I am Orlanius, and he is John. We are here to find a way to complete a codeword by order of the Emperor." He spoke hoarsely, raising his free hand to show that he was not hostile. "It first appeared among humans in ancient Terra, and we can only rush into the Cold Hall - we are commissioned by the Emperor..."

"Emperor?" Another woman's voice came closer and closer. A relatively young figure timidly appeared behind a tall display case. She was wearing a thick insulating work suit, with a bunch of crystal keys hanging around her waist, and a box of Emperor Tarot cards.

When the woman heard Ole mention her theoretical master, her eyes began to turn red. She turned her head away and seemed to be mumbling something.

The old man's eyes were fixed on Or and John, and he said in a suppressed tone: "You are following the instructions of the throne of the palace?"

John suddenly raised one hand and shook it vigorously from side to side to refute. The young immortal had recovered and let go of Orr, took out a stick of carbon from his pocket, and made a series of gestures, as if writing Gothic in the air.

"Does everyone on Terra know that the throne is finished?" John asked silently.

The old man's hands, which were behind his back, loosened and fell to his sides.

"Only me." The woman turned back, her emotions adjusted, "and Sinderman. The two of us know. I... I'm Lillian Chase... the archivist here. He is Kyril, Kyril Sinderman. He used to be the Preacher... After Ullanor, he came back with Lord Horus. Now he's my partner."

She raised her head, observed John's injuries, and asked tentatively: "Is this an injury caused by using a spell?"

Now it was John Grammaticus' turn to be shocked.

"How did you confirm it?" Or asked vigilantly. He didn't think that his old friend would tell the secret of the Tower of Babel to an ordinary archivist, but the two people who suddenly appeared here seemed to know a lot.

"I used to be an assistant to Lord Morse. After he left the palace... I took over the position of archive management. If you are indeed interested in the current throne..."

Lillian stopped talking, a look of fear on her face again. She shrunk her shoulders and found a few crystal keys. "Let's go downstairs and talk. This place is too close."

Hindman sighed, "I don't know where you came from, but I don't think I can expect you to clean up these messes. Go to the lower level with Lillian. The guards should be here soon, and I will ask them to help return these ancient books to their place."

He picked up the books stained with John's blood one by one and handed them to Orr. "Take these. I'll deal with them."

-

"You may have come to the wrong place. I don't think there is anything you need here - if you are looking for the secret of the spell," Lillian Chase lowered her voice. The looping corridor they were walking in was engraved with magic patterns. Each symbol was slightly distorted in the dim light that was not fully lit, and it continued to increase along the spiral shaft and spiral staircase.

The Imperial Regent had expended great energy in guarding this archive, which was said to contain the secret collections of the Emperor himself, and now that Darkness had ascended the throne of Terra, the shielding and protection measures taken by the Sigillite had given them a place to breathe and plot - or at least Lillian and Hindman had not yet been dragged out and thrown into the fire.

"Let us at least look for the books here. I can't think of any other place with more ancient books. The Emperor has given us a hard job," John said, looking around, his wounds healed. "To find an ancient language... and I don't even know where to start to perfect it!"

"Oh, there is indeed a book called "Introduction to Spells", I remember. It should be in... I need to check the catalog, adults. I'm not sure if it will be useful to you. I read a little bit... No, I didn't read it, but I'm not sure." Lillian said awkwardly. "It should be a relatively old booklet, I don't know the content."

"It sounds like the content is not ideal? Oh, it's okay - we have no right to blame you for peeking at the Emperor's collection. You can relax a little. Besides, you have been an assistant to the famous Morse. I won't be surprised by anything you do."

"I……"

"Okay, John." Or said in a low voice, "Ms. Chase, take us to have a look. Also, tell us why you noticed something was wrong with the throne?"

"The Emperor... has not left the throne room for a long time, really. And lately, we have only seen the Word Bearers and the Alpha Legion coming in and out of the palace. You know what they are like..." Lillian replied.

"This is all speculation, ma'am..."

"Come on, Miss Lillian, you just learned a few spells on the sly, and that helped you make the judgment. Did you peek into the throne room or eavesdrop on the conversation of those psychic idiots in the Custodes? Don't worry about the two of us tipping off the Emperor, we can't find him even if we want to - it's all thanks to Valdor's coming and going."

John said, scanning the bookshelves he passed by, the vast collection of Emperor's books dazzled him, his excellent language talent helped him recognize about half of the contents, the rest required a translation machine.

Lillian Chase coughed awkwardly, but she did not stop her steps. They walked through the dim light of the electric candlesticks, deep into the lower level of the temperature-controlled cold hall, and reached the lower part of this mysterious archive room through the elevator shaft.

The archivist nervously locked the crystal electronic lock and relaxed against the door. The magic pattern left by the seal holder was circling around the door frame.

"I did learn a few spells myself... I've always been curious, and it's an honor to work in the Cold Hall, but I still violated the rules..."

She kept her mouth shut, knowing that neither of the two unexpected visitors wanted to hear her self-accusation.

Lillian pulled out a leather bag from her thick inner pocket, unbuckled her belt, and took out a yellowed booklet. The book was extremely old, and the binding was so worn out that it seemed like it would fall apart in the next second. On the spine of the book was written a line of "Introduction to Spells" in ancient Gothic. Or felt that it was not the handwriting of his old friend... But he also knew that when the Tower of Babel was destroyed, not everyone was killed by Neos.

She flipped through it carefully, found a spell, took a deep breath, and recited it.

In front of her, a crystal-like screen immediately unfolded, showing a corner of the Terran Palace. Overseen by a member of the Ministry of Internal Affairs squatting on a platform, hundreds of clerks were diligently gathering in a small room, copying some text non-stop. The content could barely be seen as a request for help due to a poor harvest on a planet three years ago. Lillian wiped the sweat from her head, recited a few more words, and waved the screen away.

"You didn't pay the price?" Or asked.

Compared to the abilities displayed by Lillian Chase - if she had been the assistant of the craftsman, it was not surprising that she could do some extraordinary things. But Chase's ability to easily perform spells without being harmed by them was the first time Orr had seen it since he reunited with the Emperor... The last time was in the Tower of Babel, and that memory was too long ago.

"I don't know. I just did what the book said," Lillian whispered, hunching her shoulders in insecurity. "I've never succeeded before - the first time I succeeded was recently, after the Emperor returned to the throne. I was scared and felt something was wrong, so I tried it... like this..."

She changed a few syllables, and a blurry shadow of a picture appeared before their eyes. The scene was distant and unclear. They could vaguely see a vast and dark hall, and a faint flash of metallic luster in the smoky darkness.

Throne Room. Orr came to a conclusion immediately.

"Are you brave or timid?" John said in annoyance, feeling ashamed that his language talent and the craftsman's own scroll, which he was proud of, were not as good as those of any administrator in the cold hall.

Lillian bit her lip. "I-I am very cautious. I was just thinking about how to verify your identity! But now the emperor is not the emperor anymore, I probably can't prove anything... Well, you guys just wait and see!"

She handed the booklet to both of them, and John took it, sat down on the floor and began to read it. He hadn't rested for a long time, but he was still energetic at this time. This task made him full of energy. This book was a manuscript that had been reprinted for more than 30 times. The original author was a name called FC Power... He admitted that he had never heard of it.

"Ms. Chase," Orr said in a low voice, "Have you found anything else unusual about the throne room? Although this is not our mission, I think we should know more about what is happening here to assist those fighting outside."

"Combat?"

"Warmaster Perturabo has a plan," Orr said, the mention of which made him sad. Was he involved in the destruction of the land where he was born?
"Oh, tell me." Lillian Chase sat down on the spot and breathed softly with uneasiness, "I don't know... but Sinderman and I are waiting for a turnaround... Yeah, I guess there are many people on Terra who think the same way! Because, this is too wrong, although there are still many people who believe in the Emperor... Why do I sound like a traitor?"

Or came back to his senses, picked out what to say, and talked to the craftsman's former clerical assistant.

Some time later, Kyril Hindman joined them on the lower level of the cold room.

Sometimes he would add some of his own thoughts and comments. The time since Horus Lupercal was assassinated in Ullanor seemed like a lifetime ago, but he could not forget it for even a second. He still remembered the day when the Warmaster was awarded the medal and crown... a bitterness echoed in his chest.

John found a corner, away from the many questions from the two archivists.

He was calmly reading the author's lengthy preface, trying to find out the details of Lillian Chase's free use of spells from the author's understanding of "angelic language" and "dialects"... He was surprised to find that the author of the introduction to spells was a devout theologian - if he really had to believe in the existence of some god in order to avoid side effects as stated above, he was afraid that he would not be able to do it.

This also completely contradicted what he knew about Mors and the Primarch Magnus.

In the corner of his eye, he seemed to see a bright white color slowly stepping into the voyeuristic screen maintained by Lillian Chase.

He looked up and his face turned pale for a moment.

“Isn’t this…” Kyler Hindman stood there in shock, a chill running through his body.

-

How long has he been gone?
He walked on the cold golden road, the leaves of the golden tree spread on the white stone surface like gold foil... In the distant and untouchable void, he was celebrated and encouraged, and those illusory and silent forces pushed him to continue standing and moving forward...

How is his father? How are his brothers? How are his children?
He didn't know, would not be known, and had no way of knowing. He just immersed himself in the empty light, quietly waiting for his awakening.

He seemed to remember that he entrusted his duties to a person he trusted very much - he seemed to believe that the person entrusted would be able to shoulder every responsibility, because that person would never waver and was as tough as steel...

He took a step forward drowsily, continuing on his endless road. He knew that he could not stop, he knew that he had to keep walking, waiting for the day when he would wake up.

He vaguely remembered that their lifelong conquest had come to an end... just before he fell into the abyss of coma, all the roads in this world had come to an end.

Then, there will be a good future waiting for him.

He smiles.

Gradually, there was a dark starry sky, followed by tiny stars, quietly burning in the boundless space. The faint smell of incense spread around, and the golden leaves under his feet broke into pieces and turned into ashes, as if he was the candle in the furnace, slowly lighting this road...

The starry sky surged towards him, and a magnificent darkness burst out from his body. Every place where his armor met the darkness was shining brightly. The black light like a wisp of mist connected him and led him forward.

He was being pulled along in a daze, feeling both happy and flustered.

Father—the word suddenly jumped into his dormant consciousness. When he thought that he was being led by his father, his heart was lifted lightly…But, why couldn’t he be completely at ease? Why did the taste of copper and iron surge on his tongue?
+Come, Horus...+
-

Outside the Tower of Astarte, where the stasis field was located, the mortal servants stopped their repair and maintenance work and looked up at the circles of dark fire that suddenly overflowed from the top of the ivory-like towering white tower. The black flames instantly enveloped the entire tower, burning from the inside out...

What was happening? Something was burning in the tower where Lord Horus Lupercal rested - was it a fire, an attack, or a psychic miracle?
As hearts struggled with intense fear and the mortals prayed helplessly, the tower began to melt, and drops of hot metal left a dark afterimage of a skull as they fell.

The servants who saw this scene all cried out in pain, fell to their knees, and covered their eyes in pain. The entire tower collapsed inward like melting wax, and a silver-black pool filled the courtyard in the form of molten iron; tears and blood, as well as the bones and flesh of the servants, were all sealed in the vast molten iron.

The molten iron stopped before it reached the inner court. The former Astartes Oath Tower disappeared, and the entire area was shrouded in a thick black fog like a curtain. Everything was frozen, like some kind of external solidified gel. The swirling dark waves curled, entangled, evaporated and liquefied in the circular square, repeating over and over again. The cold wind blew across the empty square, and the whimpering of the wind came from the black fog, like air currents blowing through pores. The sound of sighs floated, quickly fell silent, and returned to the empty and gloomy depths.

Until the silence was broken by the footsteps of a visitor.

Lorgar Aurelion hurried over from the port and rushed to the tower where Horus Lupercal was sleeping.

His chest was filled with irrepressible rage, as his warriors had relayed to him the disaster of the Third Legion - after more than a hundred years of expeditions for the Imperium of Man, even though he had abandoned his false worship of Perturabo and found the true divine faith deep in his heart, he was still furious at Perturabo's cruelty.

Fulgrim was mortally wounded, Ferrus Manus was missing, Chaos daemons were hunting his two innocent and unfortunate brothers... and now they were on Isstvan III, with the Iron Warriors' fleet circling the planet, every gun in its barrel ready to fire.

When he thought of the star language he heard, he had to grit his teeth and recite some scriptures in his heart, drawing comfort from the presence of the benevolent Dark Throne and the certain promise of the future.

But he had more pressing matters to attend to now, and he breathed deeply, savoring the scorched air that had once surrounded the Tower of Astartes, letting the scent of metal and blood soothe his rapidly beating heart.

"The throne is above..." he murmured, forcing a smile to greet the brother he was most looking forward to.

Everything changed because of an assassination on the eve of the victory of Ullanor. A wrong devil stole everyone's trust and honor through conspiracy and intrigue. Since then, hope seems to have left this world... But there is still a trusted brother who will rise from the ashes and dust and take back everything he deserves under the blessing of the throne.

He made a prayer gesture across his chest, praising the gift and power of the throne, praising his father for taking back His true eldest son from the machinations of Chaos and the Betrayer, and bringing Horus Lupercal back from the purgatory of half-life and half-death.

This seemed to prove once again the lofty meaning of his pursuit and the real existence of the gift he believed in.

Lorgar closed his eyes to hold back the tears that were about to flow, and his eyes ached.

He clasped his hands to his side, and asked the two most recent heads of the Order who followed him to wait outside, while he eagerly set out on the road to meet Horus Lupercal again.

He wanted to apologize to him, to explain to Horus the mistakes he had made due to being deceived, the suffering father who was waiting for the true eldest son on the throne, and the current unstable situation in the galaxy...

He had many words to speak to Horus Lupercal, at the behest of the throne.

He pushed aside the thick fog and took a deep breath of the smell of charcoal in the environment. Blood began to flow again from the gaps in the armor that had fused with his skin.

His armor finally replaced his skin and was permanently attached to his body without the need for repeated smelting.

The Father forgivingly acquiesced in his path of self-redemption, so that in his most troubled moments he could find solace in sharing His suffering with his own.

In the thick fog, Lorgar saw his long-lost brother.

Horus had sat up from the white stone platform where he usually lay, weakly supporting himself on the edge of the platform, slowly readjusting to the reality he was in.

The black mist around them faded, and Lorgar was able to see Horus clearly again.

In the past period of time, the handsome face of the Son of the First Return was obscured by the paleness of a serious injury, and he looked as withered as a weathered rock. Now, the warrior sitting here has a ruddy face and bright eyes, and the abundant vitality of the past is returning to his limbs.

However, this was not enough to relax Horus's brows. The artificial gardens in the sky, the gorgeous columns and arches, and the patterns and marks of the silk-woven network outlined by the aerial corridors and arch bridges... The wolf god stared at the surrounding black fog, his eyes slowly moving along the winding outline of the palace through the heavy haze...

Following Horus's gaze, the golden spires reminded Lorgar briefly of the Emperor's two architects, but he pushed them from his mind.

Even though it wasn't uncommon for them not to have seen each other for a dozen years, seeing Horus again still made him smile sincerely.

"You are back, my brother," he said eagerly, "I am glad to see you again, and it makes me feel the joy that has come upon me."

Horus shook his head, raised his hand to rub his own throat, then paused for a moment, observing the palm of his own hand.

This is where he was once injured. Now, the wound that seemed to never heal has been silently sutured, and replaced by a tattoo hidden under the skin. From Aurelion's perspective, it should be a constellation.

After identifying the tattoo, the Wolf Shepherd God laughed softly. His laughter echoed like the tide. It was awkward at first, but soon returned to its usual loudness.

"What year and month is it now, my brother?" Horus Lupercal looked at Lorgar and paused, "Throne, how is your armor..."

"Don't worry, brother. This is the gift and punishment I received. I am lucky to wear this." Lorgar nodded, and a tear fell down his cheek uncontrollably. "It is His mercy and care. There are too many things in this galaxy that need your concern. Don't use your precious worries on me."

Horus nodded reluctantly in agreement, his strength being re-injected into his body, and he slowly stood up, swaying, and stood before Lorgar, considerately not asking any more questions about the Armor of Atonement.

His towering figure reminded Aurelion of the mountains of Colchis. Colchis was now in ruins, but the return of Horus Lupercal made the burning of past mistakes less regrettable.

"Well, let me hear which seas turned into mountains and rivers turned into plains while I was sleeping. I believe I missed many stories and miracles worth cherishing. Tell me, is that so? Why should I be so excited? Is my father waiting for me? Or, at least tell me why the Tower of Astarte no longer exists when I open my eyes!"

Horus' voice was pleasant and high. He walked towards Aurelion affectionately and carefully patted Aurelion's shoulder armor with his fingers symbolically, fearing that he would hurt the first brother he saw after waking up. From the bright eyes of the wolf god, Lorgar Aurelion saw a primarch who was full of hope for reality. His tone was firm, as if he had seen all the feats clearly.

It was as if he were still living in the afterglow of the Great Crusade.

“Horus, my brother…” Aurelion reluctantly avoided the wolf god’s eyes. “Perhaps this world is not what you wish.”

The black mist around them had completely dissipated, and the dazzling buildings of the Terra Palace once again came into Horus' sight. The noble face of the wolf god showed intoxicated joy.

"I hear frustration in your voice, my brother. Let me guess. Are you being harsh again? Be lenient with yourself and others, Aurelion. Do not worry that you are not obeying your father enough or that you are underestimating your own achievements. Tell me, what is holding you back? How many days have I slept that I look so strange to you?"

Lorgar was speechless for a moment, Horus's concern made him silent, and he could not bear to say the statement he had prepared. For a devout believer in the throne, these selfish emotions and worries were contrary to his creed - his respected brother, even just a smile and a few words, made him hesitate again.

"It is now the end of the first year of the thirty-first millennium, Horus. As you can see, this is the site of the former Tower of Astarte. It was His miracle and grace that leveled the tower, and it was also by His grace that you were restored to the earthly realm."

Horus breathed a sigh of relief. "It sounds like I haven't missed too much time. I can still catch up with my brothers and make some contributions to the Empire... Alas, are you worried about me? At least, Cyjanus must miss me, and I hope he leads my legion well... How sad! Then, how can this world be worse than I want it to be?"

He winked playfully and chattered on: "At least, I see that this palace is still bright and shiny, isn't that good? What about father? How is he doing recently? How can I thank him for giving me a second life?"

He flexed his arms and looked at the Sagittarius tattoo on his palm with satisfaction: "I seem to be more powerful than before - I feel great."

"The Emperor awaits you on his throne."

Horus's excited expression subsided. "What happened to father?" he asked seriously.

Lorgar didn't look at him directly.

"Father watches over his damaged kingdom from his throne, my brother."

"What?" Horus shuddered.

"The Emperor needs our help, and the Imperium of Man needs our salvation. During your sleep, a new Chaos God is slowly taking shape, and may descend among the stars at any time, becoming a mortal enemy of the throne. That cursed enemy, the sinner who will be born, will challenge the Father's existence and be born by absorbing death in the void."

Horus did not speak. Lorgar continued to speak painfully: "We have suffered betrayal, my brother. The unforgivable traitors have caused the God-Emperor to suffer great damage, and Terra has suffered the destruction and desecration of tearing and burning. In your sleep, did you see the roar of the nightmare and the shadow of betrayal? Now you look up and see the broken dark throne. Can you smell the breath of anger and suffering?"

A moment of silence fell, and Horus' eyes widened, unable to bear the news he heard. Sorrow rose in his heart. In such a short time, had his father been hurt? Had the empire been... betrayed?
He couldn't believe it - he clearly remembered that the Great Crusade had ended, and the only task left was to continue the empire and revitalize humanity; they all hoped that in their long lives, they would sometimes scatter like shooting stars, and sometimes gather together to share the fruits of their life's battles... Some of them might still be immersed in war and power and unable to break away, but sooner or later they would get familiar with this bright future and understand their father's expectations...

"You...Aurellion..."

"I never exaggerate, my brother. I swear in the name of the throne and in the true name of faith, no lies come from my mouth." Lorgar turned his head and looked at him deeply, with sadness on his face.

"I know," Horus said, trying to re-adjust his mood and bid farewell to the glorious imagination in his heart, knowing that perhaps for a long time, he would not be able to see the brother he hoped to see shake hands with.

Which traitors had harmed the Emperor? Was it the blasphemous spells cast by the sorcerer planets? Was it the rebellious planets and the greedy Federation that raised the banner of opposition? Was it the feigned submission of the subhumans and aliens? Or - more boldly - was it the traitors within the Imperial administration? Was it the mortal politicians who, as soon as they saw peace in the galaxy, could not wait to stir up trouble?
He thought of the responsibilities he had entrusted to him before he fell asleep, and could not help but sigh silently that Perturabo must have a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, and he was probably dealing with this turmoil that could hurt the Emperor. In order to avoid chaos caused by the change of military power, they should at least discuss the handover of the Warmaster's responsibilities after this matter was resolved.

Horus said sternly: "I was only surprised and reluctant for a moment. However, as the ancient Terra said, the world is like this, and disaster will always come! Well, alas, it sounds like the war in the human empire has not ended... The galaxy still needs Ashtar to fight all sides. Well, this is also the mission of our birth! This is exactly why we stepped into the sea of ​​stars!"

At the end, his voice was as loud as the sound of metal. In a short time, he turned back into the most outstanding general under the banner of the Emperor's Sky Eagle. If he had a long sword at his waist, a war hammer in his hand, or a military flag on his shoulder, he could immediately return to the battlefield and continue to fulfill his oath of battle.

He nodded to Lorgar, his pearly white armor glowing brightly in the artificial sunlight of the Terran Palace.

"Tell me, what brought about this betrayal? Is the mastermind known? Has the punishment begun?"

Anger slowly grew on Lorgar's face, the mere thought of this betrayal was enough to wipe away all the mixed feelings he had at seeing Horus again.

He raised his hands, prayed silently, slowly calmed himself, and met Horus' eyes.

"The mastermind has been identified, the treason has been made clear, and what is lacking now is only more hard evidence and a warp environment that is sufficient to connect the galaxy and summon the various legions back to Terra. Both of these conditions must be met... my brother. During the turbulent time of the warp storm, I have done my best to resist the occurrence of this incident and bring skyfire and judgment to the subordinates of the rebels. Your legion has performed bravely and should be returning to Terra by now. You can't imagine..."

He was silent for a moment, as if he was thinking of the reply letter sent by Shadow Moon Wolf.

"Who is the traitor?" Horus asked, his anxiety growing. Lorgar Aurelion seemed afraid to answer him directly.

"It's not that you made the wrong choice," Lorgar said, "We all mistook what was true and false, and were blinded. But you handed over power to traitors, and the truth of the Empire was tampered with. The dark path behind Terra was torn apart, and the Lord of Holy Terra was unable to rise from the throne... Even the burning of Colchis, the unknown life and death of your innocent brother and mine, and even your assassination, and even the many doubts before that... Haven't I repeatedly pushed it forward and unintentionally become an accomplice!"

"Tell me." Horus stared at Lorgar with his deep eyes. "Who is it?"

Lorgar raised his head. Inside the artificial glass dome, the sunlight burned the palace in the gray and mottled sky, causing his eyes to sting. How many times had he stared at the sky like this, suffering, expecting the Emperor to leave the throne again, come before him, and personally acknowledge his repentance.

"Perturabo."

Lorgar said softly.

"Who?" Horus seemed not to hear clearly.

"The Fourth Legion, Chief of the Iron Warriors, Warmaster of the Empire, Lord of the Olympia Cluster, Architect of the Emperor... Perturabo." Lorgar recited those glorious titles one by one, his lips hardly moving while speaking, his throat trembling constantly, and finally, he spat out the name that was full of blasphemy to him.

"No," Horus murmured, "No."

Lorgar took a deep breath.

A breeze of dust rose at the tip of his nose, and the ashes of the day when Colchis burned returned to his perception, lies, humiliation, deception, destruction... His heart beat with hatred.

"Perturabo betrayed the Emperor, my brother. His schemes lurk like a venomous snake, flawless in the light, lurking in the shadows.

"His right hand is Magnus, who altered the truth of the God-Emperor and destroyed the God-Emperor's plan. He has been excommunicated by the hand of the God-Emperor himself at the intersection of the roads on the other side of the world. There is no trace of Prospero, and the Fifteenth Legion has been destroyed like dust and turned into dust.

"His left hand is the Artisan who usurped the light of the Astronomican, raising a storm of darkness in the Warp that obscures our vision. Fortunately, the God-Emperor has the power to guide us personally...

"And the Iron Warriors are hunting down our two innocent brothers. One of them is being harassed and pursued by the demons and has no way to escape. The other is either dead or alive, or has gone forever..."

"No, I can't..." Horus clutched Lorgar's shoulders, his fingers began to spasm again, and his handsome face turned completely pale, almost darker than when he was sleeping due to his injuries.

Other than that, he couldn't utter a word.

"My brother, Horus Lupercal, I understand your fear and pain, but you must accept reality." Lorgar said firmly, with a faint light flashing in his violet eyes. "According to the enlightenment of the God-Emperor, the false god worshipped by the traitor Perturabo will have the evil intention of offending the throne. The Iron Warriors and their accomplices in the rebellion will attack the Solar Segmentum and fight us to the death. His ambition must be thwarted and his face must be exposed. The Great Crusade has come to an end, but the Holy War has not."

He raised his hand. "In the name of the Throne, the Emperor's fleets shall once again scourge the galaxy - but now, follow me, my brother, and we will meet the Dark Throne ourselves."

(End of this chapter)