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Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya

By: Betrayer_of_Skalathrax



Author's note: 

This story and the ones to follow are set in the Warhammer 40,000 universe. Credit goes to Games Workshop and their publication company The Black Library. The events of the story are my own, and though I'm no professional author, I hope I can do some justice to the characters. 

To anyone who has read the Horus Heresy novels, this takes place before book 1, Horus Rising. 

This story and those to follow are non-erotic. If you are looking for sex, you won't find it here. I hope everyone enjoys. Feedback is always appreciated, good or bad, as are comments. 

***** 

Heresy book 1 - Prophecy of Betrayal 

It is a time of legend. 

The armies of the Emperor of Earth have conducted a Great Crusade and conquered the galaxy, the Emperor's elite warriors crushing the myriad of alien races from history. 

Human supremacy has reached new heights. Gilded citadels of marble and gold have been raised to celebrate the many victories of the Emperor, triumphs held on a million worlds. The epic deeds of his most powerful and deadly warriors recorded for all time. 

The greatest of these are the Primarchs, superhuman beings who have led the Emperor's armies of Space Marines to victory a thousand, thousand times. They are the pinnacle of the Emperor's genetic knowledge, unstoppable and glorious. The Space Marines are the mightiest human warriors in the galaxy, each able to best a hundred normal men in combat. 

Tens of thousands make up each Space Marine Legion. They along with their Primarch leaders conquer the galaxy in the name of the Emperor, bringing the Imperial Truth with them. 

Chief among the Primarchs is Horus, the favored son of the Emperor, the brightest star. He is the Warmaster, the commander-in-chief of the Emperor's military, vanquisher of a thousand times a thousand worlds, conqueror of the galaxy. He is a warrior and diplomat without peer. 

How will the Imperial truth stand up to fate? 

~Dramatis Personae~ 

The Primarchs 

Horus, Primarch and Warmaster, Commander of the Luna Wolves 

Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children 

The XVI Legion "Luna Wolves" 

Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain 

Tarik Torgaddon, Captain, Second Company 

Hastur Sejanus, Captain, Fourth Company 

Horus Aximand, "Little Horus", Captain, Fifth Company 

Serghar Targost, Captain, Seventh Company, Lodge Master 

Garviel Loken, Captain, Tenth Company 

Falkus Kibre, Captain, Justaerin Terminator Squad 

Kalus Ekaddon, Captain, Catulan Reaver Squad 

Maloghust, equerry to the Warmaster 

The XVII Legion "Word Bearers" 

Erebus, First Chaplain 

The 63rd Expedition Fleet 

Boas Comnenus, Master of the Fleet 

Hektor Varvaras, Lord Commander of the Army 

Regulus, Adept, envoy of the Martian Mechanicum 

Imperial Personae 

Ardarik Velas, Official Remebrancer, imagist 

Marie Kardis, Official Remebrancer, documentarist 

Melus Khol, Official Remebrancer, poet 

Camille Gaines, Official Remebrancer, artist 

Kharri Van Eisen, Adeptus Administratum Representative 

Leilani Mollitas, Sister of Silence, Oblivion Knight, Brazen Sabre Cadre 

Jerika Erdiss, Neophyte, Brazen Sabre Cadre 

Non-Imperial Personae 

Hratli, Lord of the White Dragons, Lamaranth warrior clan 

Drott, Lodge Master of the Crimson Eagles 

Darmios, Prophet of Fate 

~Chapter 1~ 

~Lamaranth 

~A Gathering 

~A Rare Opportunity 

The lush green planet orbiting a small sun had been cut off from humanity for almost ten thousand years. Its people having never set foot on Terra and any memories they have are merely legend. They have survived, flourished even. Their fertile plains being ideal for growing crops and their villages defended from local predators by a warrior caste of knights. 

Many knightly orders existed on Lamaranth, each ruling in their own way. They created mighty castles, some of which backed against a wide swath of mountains extending east to west along the only major land mass of the planet while others backed against the vast ocean. 

The fertile valleys allowed for the growing of crops. Wheat, native fruits and vegetables were chosen thousands of years ago and have been grown ever since. Locals raised large, scaly Grox for their meat and hides, often earning the favor of knights based on the size and quality of their herds. 

For all its beauty, life on Lamaranth was perilous. Huge reptilian creatures called the mountain peaks home, feeding on Grox and the occasional unlucky villager. When not at war with each other, aspiring knights spend their time hunting down these drakes. Only by killing one and returning with its head would one become a knight. 

Its oceans were bright, warm and inviting. Were it not for sharks and large, predatory squid a hundred feet long, one might enjoy a swim. The life of a fisherman was one of short life expectancy, for those fish he intends to sell at market also attract larger animals. 

Designated Sixty-three Eighteen by Imperial charts, it would be the eighteenth world brought to compliance by the Sixty-Third Expedition Fleet. It would be restored, with its long lost brethren brought into the Imperium of Man. One way or another. 

The vessels gathered in the void, silently shifting in the darkness. Their hulls like gothic monuments, crenelated and cathedral-like. Great, sculpted bows like lethal arrows aimed at the luminous globe in the middle distance. Plasma fires burned blueish white, propelling the thousands of feet of gunmetal hulls toward Lamaranth. 

The lead vessel was made of steel the color of a stormy sky, with a prow of shining white. The only decorations those of a martial nature, lines of script the size of a man which detailed worlds conquered, battles fought and honors won. The only things of note were twofold: the single vertical slit on a pale yellow background signifying an eye, and the roman numerals XVI on either side of the knife edged prow. 

Other ships fell in line behind her, assuming a formation much like the warriors that they carried. Many were the same storm cloud color, while others were a rusty red or olive drab. In tribute to those borne within, this vessel had a name, proudly displayed on the iron hull in high gothic script: Vengeful Spirit. 

Others joined her, ranging in size and class, larger and smaller, each markedly different yet having the same purpose. Pride of Cthonia, Holy Execution, Mortis Probati, Armorum, Salvation and others. These vessels carried the will of the Emperor, the iron gauntlet which would see humanity rule the stars. Each one serves its Legion proudly, bearing the furious cargo that is the XVI Legion, the Luna Wolves. 

Hastur Sejanus entered the strategium, an ironwork platform above the command deck which supported a raised central dais of plain ouslite three feet deep and thirty feet in diameter. The Warmaster had never cared for a throne or seat, preferring to stand as equals with his men. The walk space around the dais was half covered by tiered galleries which extended high into the chamber behind it. Approaching the dais, he pulled a small coin out of his pocket, a coin made of burnished steel displaying a black wolf head behind a crescent moon. The symbol of the legion. Placing it in the ouslite disc, Sejanus turned and looked down upon the command deck. 

The command deck was busy, officers of the Imperial Navy working on this and that, performing their jobs with practiced efficiency. It always amazed him how so many people could work in one place and seem to largely ignore one another. He turned his attention back to the room as the armored glass doors opened with a slight hiss of pressurized air. Boas Comnenus entered the large chamber with a few officers in tow. 

Comnenus took a seat near the raised dais in the strategium, one metal hand rested on the dais itself, the red ocular lenses which replaced his long dead eyes whirred as information was gathered and processed. His ancient body encased in a silver and steel exoskeleton and covered with a cobalt robe. He took off his hat and placed it on the dais. 

Others began coming in through the armored glass doors. Lord Commander Hektor Varvaras, commander of the Imperial Army forces of the Sixty-Third Expedition entered, along with several Army aides. He was a tall, bulky fellow, aristocratic in his movements and style. Were it not for several scars across his face, one might mistake him for a noble, lost on his way to some gala event. He placed his gloves on the dais 

Sejanus was amazed at how big the strategium was, the sheer scale taking his breath away. He scanned the room, looking for his fellow captains. He sighed, resigning that they hadn't yet arrived. He did however notice a slender female figure, barely visible in the shadows beneath the overhang. Her lithe form scanning the room, watching those in it with judging eyes. Not far away was the less hidden form of another woman, younger and conversing with an army aide.  

He had heard of the Sisters of Silence, the Emperor's weapons against psychic powers. Most people knew them as Blanks or Untouchables; such was their connection to the warp. Most beings have a connection to the warp - a soul, if you will. Those individuals who have a strong psychic connection to the warp have a brighter soul, while Blanks have no presence in the warp, going so far as to create a null zone around them. The Silent Sisterhood travels where the Emperor wills in great Black Ships, seeking out witches in defense of the Imperium. 

Hasur's thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of his fellow Captains. Ezekyle Abaddon of the First Company, Tarik Torgaddon of the Second and "Little Horus" Aximand of the Fifth. Each man made up a part of the mournival, the informal council to their Primarch. 

"As usual, Sejanus is early," Torgaddon quipped. "It's no wonder the Warmaster favors you." 

"Tarik, it's good to see you're in good spirits," Sejanus said, returning his greeting. 

"When is he not?" Remarked Abaddon. His noble face was accentuated by his shaven scalp. He, like Horus Aximand was known as 'Son of Horus', nearly identical in looks to their beloved Primarch. His wide-spaced eyes were bright, enhanced by the lume-globes above the dais. 

Sejanus bowed to the First Captain, honoring the rank as well as the man. Abaddon was a warrior without equal among the Luna Wolves, winning many victories and honors, fighting by the side of Horus himself many times. Turning slightly, he bowed to Torgaddon and Aximand in turn. 

"Little Horus, it's good to see you again," Sejanus said, noting his brothers normally melancholic mood was ever present. 

"It's good to see you too brother. I wish it were under better circumstances." 

"Emperor's bones man, it's just a briefing!" Torgaddon remarked with a laugh. 

"True, however this one in particular makes my skin crawl. Especially with them here," Aximand groaned, nodding toward the women in the shadows. 

"Who are they?" Asked Tarik, risking a glance in her direction. 

"Sisters of Silence, Witchseekers," spat Abaddon as if it were a curse. 

"Shouldn't we be happy to have Blanks around?" Asked Sejanus. He had never met a Sister of Silence, nor fought beside one. Still, the null spaces they were reputed to create didn't sound like such a bad thing. 

"Maybe, but it means that someone suspects we will encounter psykers," Aximand said. 

The glass doors opened again and booming laughter filled the room, driving those inside to silence. Through the doors came the mechanical figure of Adept Regulus of the Martian Mechanicum. His gold and steel armature still bearing some of his original flesh. Several mechadendrites extended from his back, each ending in a mechanical connection of some sort or another. The Tech-Adepts of Mars believe that flesh is weak, the body being nothing more than housing for information. Many have replaced their fleshy bodies with mechanical ones. 

Behind Regulus came Kharri Van Eisen, her small frame covered in Golden robes bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Administratum, charged with overseeing tasks such as Imperial tithes and acquisition of supplies for expeditionary fleets. Her place here was merely in support of future planetary governors or aiding in diplomatic relations with new worlds. Adept Regulus placed a small cog inlaid with the symbol of the Mechanicum, while Van Eisen placed a small stamp used for sealing parchment wax. A personal item placed on the dais registers a desire to be heard and acknowledged. 

Two giant forms entered behind Van Eisen, easily recognizable as Space Marines. Maloghust, tall and muscular with rough, angular features walked beside the Warmaster. Maloghust was once a captain before becoming Horus's equerry. He had a natural affinity for politics, extending assistance to the Primarch when needed. 

The Warmaster was a full head taller than any of his sons, a product of his gene-seed mixed with the Emperor's own DNA. He easily stepped onto the raised dais as silence filled the room. Everyone acknowledged him with a bow, his Astartes sons - his Space Marines - dropping to one knee. 

"Come now my friends, up with you. Enough formalities please," Horus said to the assembly before him. His voice like honey, with a subtle undertone of cold steel. 

He rotated slowly around the dais, nodding to everyone, pointing out some with his infectious laugh. The mournival had moved to the shadows of the overhang and Sejanus felt his smile broaden as the Warmaster acknowledged them. As was the norm with these formal briefings, the mournival was back amongst the shadows, present, yet silent. Abaddon stood near the dais, his Luna Wolves coin on the dais, his position as First Captain granting him a position to be heard. 

Warmaster Horus was the most perfect sculpture given life, a demi-god in human form. His face chiseled, yet soft. His eyes shone brightly in the light of the strategium, a tempest waiting to be unleashed. Sejanus felt a pleasant and familiar fear shudder through him, something only a Primarch can do. 

"Once again my friends, we must face the tedium of briefings. This time I promise to keep you no longer than necessary." Horus's voice easily carried to through the room. Those who had regularly attended briefings laughed at his statement. 

"Once again, we have come upon a segment of our brethren, our long lost family who have been separated since Old Night," Horus continued, referring to a time when Warp Storms had separated many planets outside the Sol System. "What do we know about them?" 

Lord Commander Varvaras stepped forward. "These people are divided into clans, warring constantly for land. Scans indicate that the grasslands and valleys are populated, while the forests and mountains are largely devoid of humans." 

"Their technology is primitive, lord," Regulus said, stepping up. His voice was metallic with a hint of static. "Estimates put them as relying on swords and bows, with only the most powerful warlords having black powder." 

"My lord," Kharri Van Eisen spoke, her soft voice high, yet commanding. "I would be honored to lead an envoy to the surface and bring these people into the fold of the Imperium." Her tone indicated she was used to commanding such things, not requesting permission. She was used to being obeyed, not having to obey. 

"Of course, Mistress Van Eisen," Horus spoke softly. "I shall let you assemble your team; however you will not go without guard. Lord Commander, would you be so kind as to provide the military escort?" 

"Sir," Abaddon said harshly. "With all due respect, the First can handle this." 

"Of course they can my son," Horus answered, turning to face him. "Nobody here doubts that. However, you will be kept in reserve, should your strength be needed." 

Abaddon was fuming just under the surface; however there was no arguing with the Primarch, his word was law. "As you wish, my lord." 

"What do we know about the indigenous life on the planet?" Horus asked. 

Regulus stood a bit straighter as he spoke. "Our sensors have picked up large heat signatures coming from many of the mountain peaks. Our suspicion is that large creatures call that area home. The lowlands are slightly different, with many herbivores on the plains. Creatures living in the forests are still largely unknown, only occasionally coming up on thermal scanning," Regulus said. "Our biologis group aboard the Mortis Probati is studying what we can from this distance. As we move closer we should get more accurate readings." 

"Thank you Magos," Varvaras said. "I shall pass this on to my men." 

"Thank you all," Horus added. "Is there any other pertinent information to add at this time?" 

The room fell silent, almost deathly so. The Warmaster looked at each person who had placed an item on the dais, receiving no comments as he went. As he scanned the room, he came upon the shadowy faces of the mournival, smiling at them. Sejanus felt an almost uncontrollable urge to bow to his father, though he did not have to at present. Such was the power the Warmaster commanded. 

"Very well, let this briefing be adjourned. If any new information comes to us, those who have need will be informed as soon as possible," the Warmaster spoke as the assembly bowed and went about their business. Sejanus and his fellow mournival members met with Abaddon and Warmaster Horus. 

"My sons, what do you think about all this?" Horus asked. 

"Sir, I have a bad feeling about this place. Somehow I feel like a trap," Aximand said honestly. 

"Why do you say that my son?" Horus followed Aximand's gaze, resting on the pair of Silent Sisters. "Is it because of them?" 

"Partly so sir." 

"Their presence should be reassuring, the protection they bring against psykers and witches may be helpful." 

"Of course my lord, still something doesn't feel right about this." 

"There is nothing we can't handle captain Aximand, make no mistake," Horus said before turning to Abaddon. "Ezekyle, ready the First, I want them suited and oathed to the moment, ready to deploy at a moment's notice." 

"Yes sir," Abaddon replied as he bowed, moving to pass word to his men. 

Ardarik Velas was the happiest man aboard the Vengeful Spirit. He had just spoken to Maloghust, the official equerry to the Warmaster, and procured a once in a lifetime chance. The chance to record the party that would bring compliance to another world. 

He had received a pass that would grant him access to the gantry above one of the massive launch bays of the Vengeful Spirit. From there, he could capture images of the departing envoy, as well as several high ranking Army aides. His picter in hand, his robust body scuttled past Astartes warriors clad in shining white suits of Mk IV plate. 

Ardarik Velas was short, his pot belly evident of the fortune his work had brought him. He had been an imagist for thirty years, working alongside planetary governors and scribes of the Adeptus Administratum. His works usually of an environmental nature, his landscape works featured prominently on Terra. When asked to join the Remebrancer order, he jumped at the chance, much to the dismay of his wife. He remembered how she had pleaded with him not to go, that they would spend the rest of their days apart. He couldn't turn down the opportunity, or the pay, so he had headed off to the Sixty-Third Expedition. 

As Ardarik reached the stairwell leading to the gantry, his heart sank. A pair of other remembrancers had also been invited, unbeknownst to him and much to his displeasure. Melus Khol, a shapely young man with a sharp tongue and quick wit stood with Camille Gaines. Her tall, slender body and olive skin stood against the railing, chatting with Khol. His choler began to rise, not because of any romantic pursuits he may fantasize about, but about the fact that he wouldn't be alone. 


Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya



"Ardarik Velas, it's a pleasure to see you again," Khol said seeing him approach. "Shall I carry you up the stairs?" 

"I'd like that, but I'm worried you might trip over your own hubris," Velas retorted. 

"Now boys, don't make me separate you two," Camille warned. "We are here to document this moment, not ruin it." 

They both knew she was right. The Remebrancer order had been tasked with recording the Great Crusade so that others may learn of it in the future. They had been dispatched to the expedition fleets of the crusade, many against the will of the Primarchs. 

They headed up the stairway to the gantry overlooking the launch bay. It was a massive area filled with the sleek, angular forms of thunderhawk gunships, capable of bearing the Space Marines to war. Alongside the mighty thunderhawks were smaller gunships and attack craft of all classes and sizes, as well as several shuttles which would bear the envoy to the surface. 

"By the Emperor," Khol whispered. Below them was the envoy, made up of Kharri Van Eisen and several others from the Adeptus Administratum. Army aides stood by her side, receiving a final briefing from Lord Commander Varvaras and First Captain Abaddon. A great cacophony filled the room as men and servitors loaded ammunition onto waiting thunderhawks. 

Abaddon moved back to his men, speaking words that only they could hear. Velas was snapping picts furiously, deciding to sort them out later. The First Company stood in formation, neat, perfectly straight lines separated by one body length. Each battle brother had a stream of parchment attached to their right shoulder guard by wax, the black armor of their Terminator armor gleaming brightly in the light of the bay. Abaddon and another, who he made out to be Falkus Kibre, stood before their men. 

Kibre turned to face his captain, his back now to his men. He knelt down, ready to receive his oath of moment. He presented his weapon, a Ryza pattern storm bolter, to swear his oath upon. Abaddon held up his hand and the launch bay went deathly quiet. 

"Do you, Falkus Kibre, promise to lead your men into the zone of war and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe?" Abaddon read from the parchment he held. "Do you swear to crush the opposing forces of Sixty-Three Eighteen, despite anything they may throw at you? Do you pledge to do honor to the XVI Legion and the Emperor?" 

Falkus looked into his captains eyes. "On this matter, and by this weapon, I swear." 

Abaddon fixed the parchment to his armor with wax, exchanging places when he was finished. After he was oathed to the moment, the First Company was dismissed with orders to stand by their respective thunderhawks in case the call came for help. 

Velas had been taking picts like a man possessed. He took some final picts of the men milling about and one good one of the First Captain embracing Falkus Kibre before turning to the others. Camille had been sketching away in a small book, while Khol had been taking notes. Both had filled several pages. Velas had no doubt that Camille would create a masterpiece from this opportunity, yet he couldn't help but wonder what Khol would make of this trip. Few remembrancers have had the opportunity to witness such events, and he hoped, for khol's sake, that he didn't mess up this chance. 

Descending the stairs, the group headed quickly away from the Astartes section of the ship. Having a pass granted them access, yet it wouldn't stop a Space Marine from questioning them. The thought of having to explain his actions to one of the Emperor's finest warriors made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

As they returned to the section of the lower decks which housed the remembrancers, Camille stopped. She began flipping through her sketch book, looking over each of the drawings she had made, rather quickly, while they witnessed the gathering. 

"Hey Ardarik," she called as they reached the lounge. 

"Yes my dear, what can I do for you?" He responded. 

"When the picts are ready, can I borrow some for reference material? I want to make sure I get the colors just right." 

"Of course, I'll let you know when they are ready. Shouldn't take too long," Velas replied. He was happy that someone would get to see his work again. Lately, any picts he took were sent back to Terra, probably to be stored in some dusty old archive where nobody would see them until long after his bones were dust. 

"Thank you," Camille said with a smile. "I look forward to seeing them." 

"So do I," he told her. 

~Chapter 2~ 

~Envoy 

~Summons 

~A Mysterious Image 

Kharri Van Eisen stood on the lush grasslands of Sixty-Three Eighteen, her shuttle providing a reprieve from the heat of the day. The master of the White Dragons, the most powerful of the lords governing the planet, had them escorted out following news that the commander himself would not be coming to the surface to meet with him. The Warmaster was not pleased with this turn of events, and faced a dilemma, either order the attack or force his envoy inside. He ordered the Byzant Janizars, the Imperial Army forces attached to the expedition, to activate their locator beacon and standby for assistance. The First Company was on the way. 

As she stood in the shade, Kharri Van Eisen couldn't help but marvel at the world around her. Grass the color of emeralds swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze, the wind stirring the treetops of the forest a thousand feet away. Large, furry animals with great antlers roamed the plains, grazing on grass and trumpeting to each other. One thing she noticed, they all kept their distance from the forest. 

The castle was impressive as well, the large stone structure rising a hundred feet and ringed by a thirty foot mote. The only way in on foot was the great wooden drawbridge, now retracted as to bar entrance from those of her delegation. From the gatehouse hung great banners of red, a black circle in the center and a white winged serpent within. Smaller pendants along the parapet flapped in the breeze, each bearing the same symbol. 

Her attention was drawn to the sky by the soft howling of ships entering the atmosphere. Bright trails of heat followed the craft as they burned toward her position, the growl of their engines barely audible at this distance. She couldn't help but smile, knowing that even if breaking into the castle meant war, she would have the finest warriors in the galaxy with her. 

As the tiny shapes sped ever closer to her, Van Eisen could count the craft. Ten in all, ten craft filled with ten men in bulky suits of Terminator armor and equipped with enough munitions to kill every living thing on this planet within two days. The thunderhawks swooped in low over her position, circling around over the castle and the forest before setting down in a wide semicircle around her shuttle. With a hiss, the frontal ramps of the gunships lowered and the mighty forms of the First Company marched out. 

Each warrior was huge, a full head taller than any normal man without their armor. Their genhanced bodies able to survive in the most hostile environments, even the vacuum of space for a short while. Clad in their midnight black armor, each warrior was like an individual castle, impenetrable behind the ceramite and plasteel plates forged by the Mechanicum on Mars. As the men of the First Company assembled, Ezekyle Abaddon headed towards Van Eisen, the heavy armor moving easily thanks to the fiber bundles aiding his already augmented muscles. 

"So, they refuse to listen to reason eh?" Abaddon snarled as he approached. She could see the anger brewing just beneath the surface, like a caged animal waiting to be unleashed. 

"It appears that way," she said, keeping her distance. "How do you plan to gain entry?" 

"Catulan Reavers will assault the gatehouse and drop the bridge, from there we walk right in," he said with a smirk. 

Hastur Sejanus entered the sparring chambers, the large room contained several practice cages with training servitors. Never one to slouch off on training, he frequently spent hours at a time honing his skills with a blade. He noticed Tarik Torgaddon and Garviel Loken talking after a match; the two had started a friendship it seemed. He stripped to the waist; his muscular body looked more like a sculpture than that of a person, his noble features having been called 'the finest figure in Mk IV plate'. He moved to enter the practice cage before he heard his name called. 

"Captain Sejanus." The voice was rough, aged by years of yelling in combat. 

"First Chaplain Erebus, I was unaware you had joined us," Sejanus said, turning to face his brother from the Word Bearers Legion. Erebus was an imposing one, his gray power armor bearing the Legion symbol of a flaming book, his shaved scalp covered in tattoos of scripture. 

"Lorgar Aurelian has seconded me to your fleet for the time being. It's been too long brother," he said as they embraced like old friends. 

"Care for a round or two?" Sejanus asked, motioning towards the practice cage. 

"Unfortunately I cannot, I have other business which requires my attention. Do you know where I might find Ezekyle?" 

"First company was deployed to the surface hours ago, I'm not certain when he will return." 

"Very well, thank you. I look forward to seeing you later." Erebus turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Sejanus to the practice cages. 

He entered the cage, closing the door behind him and heading for the weapon rack to select a blade. Choosing a combat knife like the one he carried, he activated the practice servitor and began his workout, dodging its razor sharp blades and striking with his own. Hours passed and many practice servitors had been destroyed by the time his exercises were complete. As he turned to leave, he noticed Tarik Torgaddon had been watching him. 

"Tarik, how are you?" Hastur asked as he wiped the sweat from his face and chest. 

"You never cease to amaze me," he said as he patted Sejanus on the back. 

"How so?" 

"You would spend days in there if you could, yet you never get any better," Torgaddon laughed. 

"One of us should try and get better, might come in handy one day," Sejanus quipped back. Both men laughed at the exchange, Tarik knew that Sejanus was second in martial prowess only to Abaddon. 

"Run and get changed, the Warmaster wants to speak with us," Torgaddon told him as they headed for the arming chambers. 

Hastur Sejanus stood outside the Warmaster's chamber, waiting for Torgaddon to arrive. He laughed as he remembered how much of a hurry Tarik was in, yet he happens to be the last one to show up. As Sejanus mused, he unconsciously ran his hand over the large emblem on the doors to the chamber. The large stone circle bearing the wolf head and crescent moon of the Legion. Whenever he saw it, Sejanus felt a burst of pride. He had been with the Legion for a hundred years, since shortly before the start of the Great Crusade. He had won many victories for the Luna Wolves and had seen many come and go. His thoughts drifted to battle brothers long gone and his mood darkened a bit, yet he was saved by the sound of footsteps on metal, two pairs. 

Torgaddon came around the corner with Erebus in tow. Each, like Sejanus, wore their power armor, though Torgaddon was so large, even for an Astartes, that his suit looked a few sizes too small. It was a running joke that Tarik's armor had to be made out of spare Terminator armor parts, held together by hope and fortune. 

"Brothers," Sejanus said in greeting. 

"See, I told you he'd be early," Torgaddon said to Erebus with a smile. "Best not keep the Warmaster waiting." 

Ardarik Velas had been up all night. The picts had been rendered, sorted and put on data slates. He had kept copies of the best ones on a separate slate to send home to his wife, if she was still waiting, he thought. His mind drifted back to the fight they had when he told her he had accepted the offer to join the Remebrancer order. They had yelled for hours, she had cried so much her eyes went dry, then she had left and gone Emperor knows where. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, grabbed a data slate and went to find Camille. 

He found her in the corridor, talking with Melus Khol. His feelings for Camille Gaines had been kept as his deepest secret, despite believing she would never feel the same. He was old and rough around the edges, years of work had seen his body abused, yet he hoped that she might find something of interest in him. She was young and fit, blooming with energy and life. He pushed the thoughts aside when she smiled at him. 

That's when he understood. He was doing all the talking, probably telling her of his next poem or some other boring thing. While her voice feigned interest, her body language spoke more than Khol realized. He was happy his arrival would give her a reprieve. 

"Hello Ardarik, how did the picts come out?" Camille asked with genuine interest. It was much more than she had shown Khol. 

"Very well I think. I brought you copies of my best ones. If you would like to see more, feel free to stop by anytime," Velas replied, handing her the data slate. 

She accepted it, giving him a hug. "Thank you, now I can really brighten up my latest work. Drop by later if you would like to see it." 

"I'd very much like that," Velas said with a smile. "What sketch did you decide to paint?" 

Melus Khol cleared his throat, obviously annoyed that he was being completely excluded from the conversation. Velas stifled a laugh when he saw how red Khol's face had become. 

"Melus, I'm terribly sorry, I forgot you were there. How is your poetry coming?" Velas asked with disinterest. 

"Its coming along wonderfully. This might just be my best work yet, so great it'll catch the ear of the Warmaster himself," Khol boasted. 

"I look forward to hearing it. Unfortunately I must go; these picts won't send themselves to the archives. I hope to see you later Miss Gaines," Velas said with a bow. 

"See you later Ardarik," Camille called after him. 

Velas returned to his room, though it was so spartan it could hardly bear the name. It's only contents were a bed, a small dresser and a desk with a projector for viewing his picts. Everything he owned, everything he held dear, was right here with him. He pulled out the data slate he kept for his best picts and slipped it into the projector's reader, the first one coming to life as clear as if he were standing there again. He cycled through them, pausing to examine the details in each one. Ardarik loved details, each bit bringing character, each piece telling a story. He stopped at a pict of First Captain Abaddon embracing Falkus Kibre; something was out of the ordinary here, an object passing between their hands. 

"Hello, what are you?" he asked to the empty room. He enhanced the image as much as he could, yet the image was still too dark. He decided to come back to it later, zooming back out and setting the images to play as a slideshow and laying down on the bed. He closed his eyes to try and rest, yet he couldn't get the thoughts from his mind. What was that thing? A token of some kind? A badge? He desperately wanted to know, yet he had nobody to ask. 

Who would he ask anyway? The First Captain? His disdain for remembrancers was made very clear when one had snuck onto the Astartes decks and Abaddon had hauled him back to his quarters by his shirt. He resolved to ask some of the documentarists and see if he could arrange a meeting with someone more even tempered. He had heard that Captain Loken was rather calm, as well as Captain Sejanus. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He opened it and Camille bounced in, her excitement barely contained. He smiled at the thought of her so happy, and had to remind himself that they were only friends, no matter how much he wanted to be more. 

"Someone is a bit excited," he said as she sat down at his desk and looked through the images on the data slate. 

"Very," she said without looking at him. "I think I might have seen something in one of these... There it is." She stopped at the same pict he had been looking at earlier of Abaddon and Kibre. "What do you suppose that is?" 

"I was wondering the same thing not long ago. I haven't been able to tell from the image and I have no contacts who I could ask," Velas told her. 

"Well I'm sure there is someone here who has connections," Camille said with a smile. "We just have to find them." 

~Chapter 3~ 

~Orders 

~Hratli 

~Prophet 

Hastur Sejanus sat in his personal arming chamber polishing his armor. The Legion artificers had done a marvelous job of working out the scratches and gouges he had received on Lamaranth. He was working the lapping powder into the breastplate when there was a soft knock on the door. 

"Enter," he said, the door opening moments later. 

"Captain Sejanus?" Questioned a soft female voice. 

"The one and only," he responded, setting aside his work and turning to face the woman. He had to admit she was beautiful, her pale skin accentuated by her long golden hair. She was trim and carried herself with pride. 

"Marie Kardis," she said, presenting her hand. "I was told you might be able to tell me what happened on Lamaranth." 

"Have you asked Captain Abaddon about this matter?" 

"I have sir, he was less than receptive," she stated with distaste. 

"Of course he was," Sejanus said shaking his head. "I'm curious, why do you want to know?" 

"I'm a documentarist sir, its my duty to record what transpires for future generations," she said proudly. 

"Is that so? Well, have a seat." 

Sejanus stood with Tarik Torgaddon and Erebus in the Warmaster's chamber, the large room contained a large oak desk with a chair, a bed with a small footlocker at the foot, and a massive window giving him a magnificent view of the void as well as the ships in it. Horus Lupercal sat at his desk with Maloghust standing behind him. 

"Welcome, unfortunately I have some disheartening news. Ezekyle has gained entry and talks are proceeding with the lord of the White Dragons, Hratli, I'm told is his name. However, he is refusing to accept us as brethren and has no interest in the Imperial truth. 

I have given strict orders for Captain Abaddon not to tear him limb from limb yet because I fear something darker may be happening to these people. 

"Why is that my lord?" Sejanus asked. 

"We are detecting surges of Warp energy coming from the mountains. I'm sending you and two squads to check it out. If you need reinforcements, they will be on standby." 

"Of course, lord," Sejanus said. "May I request a detachment from the Silent Sisterhood? Their skill in this department would be of great value to us. 

"Done. I will hail the Moriens Lux and have them meet you on the surface. Tactical data will be uploaded to the network before you depart," Horus said before turning to Torgaddon. 

"Torgaddon, I want the Second drawn up as reserves if necessary." 

"As you wish," he said with a bow. 

"Erebus, I'll need a moment of your time," Horus commanded. Sejanus and Torgaddon knew that was their cue to leave and smartly pivoted to exit the room. 

Sejanus and his men were stationed in the launch bay, arrayed before the Primarch himself. Hastur Sejanus stood ready to receive his oath of moment before Horus and Torgaddon, with Little Horus reading the oath aloud. Sejanus knelt before them, Torgaddon holding his Godwyn pattern bolter as the weapon the oath would be sworn upon. 

"Hastur Sejanus, do you accept your role in this?" Aximand read. "Do you swear to carry out your mission as instructed to the best of your abilities, to keep safe your battle brothers and bring honor to the Emperor and the XVI Legion?" 




Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya



"On this matter and by this weapon, I swear," Sejanus said. 

"Bring swift justice to the enemies of man," Horus told the men of the Fourth. 

Kalus Ekaddon stood on the gatehouse, the corpses of its defenders laid broken beneath him. They had put up a fight, but to Ekaddon, it didn't even qualify as such. From the time he and his squad had activated their jump packs, soaring to the top of the wall on plumes of orange-white fire, securing the gatehouse had taken thirty seconds. 

He raised Abaddon on the vox network. "Gatehouse secured, ready to lower the bridge." 

"Excellent work. Anyone hurt?" Abaddon asked. 

"Not even close," Ekaddon replied. He pulled the lever attached to the steel chains, lowering the drawbridge for the envoy and First Company, leaping down with the aid of his jump pack to meet them on the ground. 

At the outbreak of fighting, most of the townsfolk had retreated indoors, not wanting to be though of as combatants. A few stood outside shops or stalls, ready to defend their property to the end. Fortunately for them, that time had not yet come. With First Company as guards, the envoy made haste to the citadel. 

Those inside thought that barring the doors would prevent the Astartes from gaining access, they were very wrong. With one solid kick, Abaddon's drastically enhanced physique, augmented by the muscle fibers of his armor, blew the door open. 

Those who thought to take up arms were quickly dissuaded by the gigantic forms of the Astartes. When the room was secure, Kharri Van Eisen stood before Hratli. 

"Master Hratli, I told you I'd be back," Van Eisen said with a smug smile. "As you can see, your warriors are no match for us, will you listen to us, or will it be war?" 

Hratli stood before his throne, tall and lean with muscles born from years of combat. His blue eyes gazing into her soul, as if judging her every word, her every action. He wore robes of crimson emblazoned with the symbol of the White Dragons. 

"Your warriors are impressive indeed," he said, looking over the Astartes before him. "Tell me, mighty warrior, how many dragons have you slain?" 

"A dozen or so, just this afternoon," Ekaddon replied. His meaning wasn't lost on Hratli. 

"Those were fathers, husbands, brothers. Killed for what? Your Emperor? "he asked with great sadness. "What kind of man calls himself Emperor that would encourage his subjects to murder others?" 

Abaddon moved forward, stopped only by Falkus Kibre and Kalus Ekaddon, his fury almost beyond containment. Kharri Van Eisen's eyes went wide. 

"I would recommend choosing your words more carefully. Captain Abaddon has quite the temper," Van Eisen said. 

"So I see," Hratli replied. "We will not submit, if that means war then so be it. My Master would never approve of your Imperium." 

"Your Master?" Van Eisen asked. 

"Darmios the Prophet, he speaks for our master and has kept our world safe from outsiders for thousands of years." 

"Where is this, Darmios?" Abaddon demanded, his choler rising again. 

"He lives in the mountain, on top of the highest peak. He knows you will be coming," Hratli said. 

"Good," Abaddon said, cycling through the vox network to contact the fleet. He informed the vox officer of the need to find Darmios. When Abaddon was informed of Fourth Company's deployment, be flipped to Sejanus's channel. 

"Captain Sejanus, we have need of your assistance," Abaddon said. 

"We are at your disposal First Captain," Sejanus replied. 

"On the highest peak is a man named Darmios, bring him to us as fast as possible," he said, glancing at Hratli. "If he resists, kill him." 

"Already on it, First Captain." 

Sisters Leilani Mollitas and a young novice stood on the command deck of the Vengeful Spirit, awaiting a meeting with the Warmaster. The news they brought would no doubt add to the already less than smooth compliance of the planet, but the Warmaster had final say in all deployments attached to his fleet. 

Horus finished listening to a message, thanking the vox officer before turning to the Silent Sisters. 

"What can I help you ladies with?" He asked them. 

Sister Leilani made several quick hand gestures, the main form of communication in the Silent Sisterhood. Once a Sister takes the Oath of Tranquility, they may not speak until death. Horus looked a bit befuddled at her gestures. 

"My lord Warmaster, Sister Leilani Mollitas greets you and wishes for a moment of your time," the young woman said. "I am Jerika Edriss, novice sister of the Brazen Sabre Cadre." 

"Very well, what can I help you with?" Horus asked, his kind fatherly time coming to the fore. 

Sister Leilani made some quick gestures and Jerika translated. "We wish to deploy more Sisters to the mountains. We believe there to be more that just one powerful psyker living there and, if it is true, your men will be in great danger." 

"Sisters, I appreciate your help, but my men can handle it. Captain Sejanus is second only to the First Captain in martial skill. He has everything under control, I assure you." 

"Lord please, let us send a few Sisters to the surface," Jerika begged. 

"No, that's final. If we should need your help, you will be informed immediately." The Warmaster was firm, yet calm. 

"As you command Warmaster," they bowed together and left the command deck. As they left, Leilani signed to Jerika. 

"Monitor Captain Sejanus's men, I want to know what they find there." 

They returned to their shuttle, set to return to their ship, the Moriens Lux. The Black Ship drifting at the edge of the fleet, invisible without some form of light behind it and as silent as the warriors within. From the command deck, Sister Leilani was monitoring both the vox network of the First and Fourth Companies. 

Sejanus and two squads had traveled to the highest peak, searching for the home of Darmios. Concealed from most people, the door was built into the side of the mountain, with the home extending into the heart of it. On the door, strange runes had been carved; runes that made Sejanus's skin crawl. As the men advanced, weapons ready, the door opened and an old man stepped out in dirty, cream colored robes that Sejanus suspected were once white many years ago. 

"Welcome Hastur Sejanus and members of the Fourth Company, I've been expecting you. I am Darmios, Prophet of Lamaranth. Please come in, we have much to discuss." 

"First Captain, I've found him," Sejanus said over the vox network. 

~Chapter 4~ 

~A Request 

~Future 

~Discovery 

Camille Gaines had spent most of the afternoon in her room, putting the finishing touches on her latest painting. Stepping back to gaze upon it, she smiled, thinking it was perfect in every way. She had used several picts Ardarik Velas had provided to get shades and colors just right. 

Yet she could help but wonder what that item was that Captain Abaddon had passed to Captain Kibre. The thoughts were driving her mad; she just had to find out. First though, she needed someone to ask. 

Rumors had been floating around about warrior lodges on the Vengeful Spirit for some time now, usually spread by soldiers of the Byzant Janizars talking where they probably shouldn't. She knew each and every one of them would deny it, yet she had to find the truth. 

She thought about who to ask, what to say and how to broach the subject. She pulled out her sketch pad and began to make notes. She listed several Astartes who she knew would deny everything: Abaddon, Kibre, Ekaddon, Maloghust, Torgaddon, and Little Horus. She found her list of those that may be willing to talk was much smaller. Garviel Loken and Hastur Sejanus. Now she just needed an in with them. 

She grabbed the data slate that Velas had given her, grabbed her coat and headed for his room. Perhaps he will have some idea what to do, she thought. As she opened her door, she saw Ardarik Velas standing before her, just about to knock. 

"Ardarik, what a pleasant surprise, I was just coming to find you," she said. "I'm all finished with those picts." 

"Keep them, as a gift," Velas said as she tried handing him the data slate. "Care to walk with me?" 

"Sure, there are some things I would like your opinion on actually," she said as they headed down the corridor. "I have an idea of who we can ask about that thing in the picts." 

"Me too, who did you come up with?" 

"Captains Loken or Sejanus," she told him. 

"Captain Sejanus is away on mission and Captain Loken won't see us, I've tried." It was evident by his tone he was disappointed. "However, I met someone in the lounge who happens to be a documentarist. She is hoping to be the personal documentarist of Captain Sejanus." 

"Wow, who is it?" Camille asked. She was almost bouncing with excitement. 

"Marie Kardis. She said she would meet us whenever we are available." 

"That's great, is that where we are headed?" Her excitement was barely contained. 

"Yes," Velas said as they stopped by a door, knocking on it. 

The door opened and Marie Kardis stood before them, her golden hair tied up in a pony tail. 

"Ah Ardarik Velas, and you must be Camille," Marie said with some excitement. "Please come in." 

They entered, taking a seat by the desk with a pict reader. She offered them a drink, which they accepted, and after getting them, she sat down to chat. 

"So lets get down to it, what is this thing you want me to ask Captain Sejanus about, should I actually get to be his documentarist?" she asked. 

Camille put the data slate in the reader and brought up the image. "This token, or coin, or whatever it is." She zoomed in on the item passing between the two Astartes. 

"I see, may I have a copy of this, in case be asks to see it?" 

"Of course," Velas said. "I'll get you one as soon as possible." 

"Thank you. What do you think it is?" 

"I believe it is a lodge coin," Camille exclaimed. 

Darmios was seated at a large stone desk with Hastur Sejanus and several of his men standing around it, the Sisters of Silence had been requested to wait outside. On the table was a book that looked about as old as Darmios did, his skin wrinkled and his beard long and white. 

"This is the Book of Atum, written long before your great ancestors even lived. It tells many things, but what I want to show you is this," Darmios explained as he flipped through the pages. 

"This is a prophecy made long before even your Emperor was born. It took me years to decipher it." 

He turned the book so they could read it. His handwriting was barely legible, but much more legible than the original script, which was a string of pictographs. The words shocked Sejanus to the very core. 

"I am Horus, forged of the oldest gods, I am be who gave way to Khaos. I am the great destroyer of all. I am he who did what seemed good to him, and set doom in the palace of my will. Mine is the fate of those who move along this serpentine path." 

"What makes you believe this heresy will come to pass?" Sejanus asked, trying to keep his rage down. 

"I am the prophet of Fate, it has been shown to me that Horus will rise, then fall. This must not be allowed to happen," Darmios explained, closing the book. 

"May I see that?" Sejanus asked Darmios before he could put it back in the shelf. 

"Yes, But please be gentle, it is very old," Darmios said, handing the book to Sejanus. 

Sejanus flipped through several pages, reading what words he could understand. Those written were not of any ancient Terran dialect he had ever seen and some of the inscriptions made him want to turn away in disgust. He folded up the book and handed it to one of his men. 

"Excuse me a moment," Sejanus said, stepping out to flip through the vox network, he contacted the fleet. "Inform the Warmaster that the Silent Sisterhood needs to be deployed to reinforce our men on the surface immediately." 

His order was acknowledged and he knew he had to buy some time, ten minutes at the most. He decided to engage Darmios in conversation. He returned to the group. 

"Darmios, what do you know of my future?" Sejanus asked. 

"Is that curiosity or fear?" Darmios asked with a laugh. 

"Curiosity." 

"Very well Captain, I shall reveal what I know of your future," Darmios said as he sat down. His eyes turned to a glassy white and the room thrummed with mystic energy. His head tilted back as he began to shake. 

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. Darmios sat up and looked to Sejanus with a wide smile, almost unnaturally wide. 

"You will be chosen to make first contact with Terra. The Emperor will deny your words, resist compliance. You will fight bravely, yet you shall fall to the Emperor's guards." 

"What are you saying? We're already in contact with Terra," Sejanus exclaimed dumbfounded. His vox link beeped, signaling an incoming transmission. 

"Captain Sejanus, drop pods inbound, ETA sixty seconds." The woman's voice was soft and commanding. Sejanus sent an acknowledgment. 

"That's what the Fates have sent to me Captain," Darmios told him. "I'm sorry I don't have more information.". Darmios sighed, "I know you have brought your null maidens to kill or arrest me. My death will mean little, the others have been informed and this world shall resist." 

Kharri Van Eisen stood with one of her aides, listening to the vox transmissions passing between Captain Sejanus and the Vengeful Spirit. Having the Silent Sisterhood called down was not something she wanted to hear, knowing they were only deployed against psykers. She wondered to herself about what Captain Sejanus had found up there. 

She turned her attention to Captain Abaddon, keeping a watchful eye on Hratli while they talked about the history of the planet and its people. Something about Hratli disturbed her, though she couldn't pinpoint it. Something about his eyes. 

That's when it happened. 

Abaddon was ready for it, years of training had sharpened his senses. Hratli drew a dagger from beneath his robes and slashed for Abaddon's exposed throat. His eyes were wild, like those of a madman. That changed when Abaddon grabbed the dagger in his massive armored fist and crushed the blade. 

Abaddon's strike back was swift, backhanding the master of the White Dragons across the room. Those with quick access to weapons rose to fight, bringing great swords and axes down upon the Space Marines, though none could pierce the sacred armor.  

Kharri Van Eisen dropped to the floor as the bark of bolter fire erupted within the citadel. Practiced efficiency saw those who would strike at the Astartes dead in seconds, their inside blown apart from the mass reactive ammo. 

Ordering a search of the grounds, Abaddon contacted the Warmaster and informed him of the verdict. This planet chose war, and war it would be. Horus informed him that the Second was deploying to other castles, and that the Fourth would get the same orders. 

Falkus Kibre came up to Abaddon, waiting until he was done on the vox to speak with him. 

"Sir, we've found something you may be interested in," Kibre told him. "Follow me." 

The two descended into a large vault beneath the castle. Before them stood thousands of suits of armor, all silently waiting for orders that would never come. 

"Are these constructs?" Abaddon asked. 

"I believe so. I'll bet the Mechanicum would be very excited to see these," Kibre said with a grin. 

"I wonder if the other clan leaders have anything like this at their disposal," Abaddon wondered out loud. 

"If so," Kibre mused, "this could turn into a real fight." 

Abaddon contacted the fleet again. "Send a Mechanicum Adept to my location, Regulus will be happy with what we found." 

~Chapter 5~ 

~Knights 

~Legio Mortis 

~Secret Meetings 

Hastur Sejanus stood outside the ruins of the home of Darmios. The place little more than a collapsed ruin save for the front door, which stood as it always had. When the dust leaking from beneath it settles, there will be no indication anyone ever lived here. 

Darmios had begun to drawn power from some unknown force, causing lightning to crackle from his fingers and lifting him off the ground. When the Sisterhood's null zone made contact with him, he dropped to the ground, spent. 

Sejanus would never forget the look of pure amusement on his face just before he died, nor the words he said. "You can destroy me, but you cannot destroy destiny." 

Captain Abaddon contacted him just as the thunderhawks came in to pick them up. 

"Sejanus, use caution when assaulting the castles, it seems these rulers have access to mechanical constructs. We found thousands of them beneath White Dragon Castle." 

He acknowledged the warning and briefed his men on the flight down from the mountains. Below him, he could see Tarik Torgaddon's Second Company thunderhawks on route to the impending conflicts. Their orders were to travel to the coast and secure three castles along the sea. 

They flew over the first castle to be taken, its warriors arrayed along the parapet. They fired arrows from crude bows at the thunderhawks, but they did little in the way of damage. Then they saw the real threat. 

What looked like an old mine entrance had hundreds of knights pouring out of it in perfect formation. Each one had a glowing red emblem on their chest and glowing red eyes. Some carried swords or mauls, others rode on mechanical horses and carried lances with shields. 

"Prepare for battle men, and may the Emperor guide you," Sejanus said as the thunderhawk circled to set down. 

The gunship set down, the ramp dropping with a thud on the ground. Men of the Fourth Company rushed out and quickly formed a battle line, out of range of the archers and well away from the knights coming towards them. The thunderhawk lifted off, taking up an overhead watch pattern. 

Sejanus took in the view, looking at the castle walls and the banners flying above it. They were white cloth with a red bird, an eagle perhaps. The knights with mechanical steeds lined up in columns three bodies wide, while those on foot formed neat and orderly ranks behind them. Each one had a glowing red rune similar to the emblem on the castle. Between the ranks, he noticed the castle walls had the same glowing runes on them. 

The charge was swift, covering the distance between them faster than Sejanus would have thought possible. Behind the charging knights came those on foot, running faster than men should be able to run. Sejanus smiled, knowing this would be a good fight. 

"Open fire!" 

The Warmaster stood on the command deck, listening to vox transmissions from the surface. His men had met the enemy, though it wasn't the intended targets. These were machines, controlled by unknown means and sent to war in their masters place. 

These constructs went down easy enough, but his men would soon run out of ammo. He needed bigger, more effective weapons, and he knew just where they were kept. 

"Adept Regulus," Horus called across the command deck. Regulus had been trying to divulge the source of the constructs power. 

"Yes lord," came his static filled response. 

"We need the Legio Mortis Titans deployed to the surface, can you make that happen?" 

"Of course lord, how many would you like?" Regulus asked. 

"One to each of the thickest pockets of fighting." 

"Right away lord," Regulus replied. He gathered some data and sent it to the Mortis Probati, receiving a quick response. 

"Titans will be deployed within the hour my lord," Regulus told the Warmaster. 

"Excellent, have you been able to figure out what powers these machines?" 

"Not yet lord, we are working on it though." 

"Inform me when you figure it out," the Warmaster said as he turned to leave. 

"Of course lord." 

The Vengeful Spirit was old, one of the oldest ships in the fleet. As such, her deepest bowels had begun to rot, home to nothing but rats and filth, a damp and nasty place. Yet, in the rank darkness, a gathering took place. 




Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya



A hooded figure walked down the decaying corridor, the only light shone from candles which lit the way. As the figure came to a door, he knocked. Another hooded figure opened the door, looking him up and down. 

"What is your business here?" asked the hooded doorman. 

"I can't say," replied the hooded man. 

"Enter." 

The room was sparse, a few chairs set up around a table in the center with candles glowing all around the room. Little Horus Aximand removed his hood and nodded to those he knew. Serghar Targost removed his hood as well, shaking Aximand's hand. 

"Welcome back brother," Targost said. "Our meeting is just about to begin." 

The warrior lodge of the Luna Wolves was kept a secret, as the Emperor had forbade secret societies. Some men, like Captain Garviel Loken had strictly forbidden his men from joining the lodge, while others were more accepting. The Lodge was a place that men could converse as warriors, regardless of rank or unit affiliation. 

"Do we have any aspiring members to consider?" Targost asked the group gathered before him. Several members of the Byzant Janizars were named, as well as a few Astartes. 

"Captain Sejanus may be interested," Aximand said. 

"I always figured he would be against lodge membership," Targost said. 

"Several of his men are members, as well as all his mournival brothers. I think he would be receptive to the idea." 

"Very well, we will ask him upon his return," Targost said, moving down the list of business. They talked and discussed matters for an hour before closing the meeting. Some men returned to their stations, others hung around to talk amongst each other. 

"Little Horus," Targost called before he could leave. 

"What can I do for you?" Aximand asked. 

"Do you really believe Sejanus would join?" 

"We won't know unless we ask," Aximand replied before leaving. As he exited the bowels of the ship, Maloghust called out to him. 

"Little Horus, I've been looking all over for you, where were you?" Maloghust asked 

"I can't say," Aximand replied. 

Maloghust sighed. "The Primarch would like to speak with you." 

"What's this about?" 

"Primarch Fulgrim is coming here soon, he wishes the council of his last mournival member aboard." 

~Chapter 6~ 

~Titans 

~A God Engine Arrives 

~Drott 

The Mortis Probati was a busy place since the order had come for deployment of the Legio Mortis Titans. Men and Adepts of the Mechanicum rushed to prepare the giant engines for war, each Titan capable of destroying whole cities without a second thought, carrying enough weapons to bring whole continents to ruin. 

The Titans were humanoid machines, their size and purpose varying by class. The most common were Warlord class Titans, each one over two hundred feet tall. Their crew of three linked with the machine through sockets implanted in the back of their skills and plugs in their chairs. 

One man would link with the Titan's body, controlling the legs and head, as well as the void shields which protected it. The other two controlled the weapons on their respective hemisphere. Dozens of other crewmen were also present, tending to the plasma reactor in the abdominal section or the six void shield generators. Servitors are slaved to secondary weapon systems, with manual control available, should it be needed. 

The void shields generated by the Titans are capable of withstanding continuous bombardment from five dozen armored vehicles and artillery platforms with no loss of shield strength. 

The massive red behemoths sat it the launch bay, the last of their ammo being loaded and the tech-priests performing their sacred rites. Above them, the gargantuan craft which would carry them to the surface and retrieve them once the battle was over, sat in waiting, their crews performing pre-flight checks. 

When the last of the Titans was prepared for war, the launch bay was cleared and the Titans attached to their launch craft. The hazy blue void shields that held back the vacuum of space lowered, quickly equalizing the pressure as it pulled the atmosphere from the bay. Cranes big enough to support Titan launch swung the holy engines away from the ship, allowing them to dangle in the void. 

The clamps were released, the orange-white fires of the Titan haulers firing up and making a swift descent to the surface. They were joined by several hundred other craft, each carrying something vital to the war effort; men, munitions, vehicles, each one a cog in the machine of war. 

Sejanus had been fighting non stop for hours, the tide of battle never turning. These Knight constructs had proven to be full of surprises. The mounted knights had fallen fast, each being rendered out of action with the destruction of their steeds. Those on foot however proved slightly tougher. 

Their weapons resonated with energy, much like the power weapons the Astartes carried. Similar to Astartes weapons, the energy field displaces matter, making it easy to cut through armor, flesh and bone. Unlike Astartes weapons, this energy waxed and waned uncontrollably and without a visible pattern. 

Deadly though they were, the constructs lacked the ability to adapt quickly to changing conditions on the battlefield. They would relentlessly attack one target until its extermination, then proceed to the next. Sejanus had used this to his advantage. 

Warriors fought in pairs, each watching over the other and killing what they could. So far, the constructs had just kept pouring out at them, a seemingly endless tide of unnatural metal. 

Thunderhawks had been coming and going all afternoon, delivering reinforcements and supplies as well as several Predator tanks. So common was the sound of aircraft engines that Sejanus didn't even bother to look at the newest ones until the ground shook beneath him. 

He didn't turn around, he couldn't risk taking his eyes off the battlefield for even a second. The vox erupted with cheers and shouts from men farther back in the line, letting him know just what had come. His heart leapt as be felt the earth shake with every massive stride. A Titan had arrived. 

"Legio Mortis on station," Sejanus said over the vox. 

He knew the Warmaster would be listening in. Reports from Abaddon had made clear the bloody tally he and the First were reaping. Between the whole First Company, four castles had fallen into Imperial hands, their leaders deposed and executed. The fighting was the thickest here, while Torgaddon and elements of the Second were having trouble as well. 

"This is Warlord Titan Furoris, who is in command here?" a gravelly voice came over the vox 

"Captain Sejanus, Fourth Company," Sejanus replied. "You sure are a welcome sight." 

"Where do you need us Captain?" 

"Destroy The entrance they're coming from. Once that is done, breach the walls and clear us a path." 

"Right away Captain," 

The Lodge of the Crimson Eagles was empty, save for the gangly form of its master. Many centuries of service to his master had been rewarded with unnaturally long life, yet it had not spared him from the physical effects of such long life. His every bone hurt day in and day out, his body in a constantly hunched state. 

Before him sat a large stone pillar about waist high, a perfectly smooth circle graced the top center and archaic red runes glowed on the sides. The circular indent was full of viscous liquid, a medium for the energy the master now controlled. 

Gazing into the liquid, Drott could see the battlefield outside as clear as if he were on the walls of the castle. From here, he manipulated the thousands of constructs, each with a single purpose, an overriding will. Repel the invaders. 

It was a battle he was quickly losing. With each construct ruined, he had one less warrior between him and death, a fate he had no intention of meeting this day. Now, the enemy had sent a huge construct of their own, human in form, yet very much mechanical. One arm fired blasts of white light which burned anything it touched to ashes. The other arm was a multi-barreled weapon which tore apart anything in its path. 

Dust fell from the ceiling as the mighty engine moved, each step shaking the planet to its very core. He knew with certainty that these invaders would breach the walls, that they would storm the castle and kill the clan leader. 

He wouldn't let that be his fate. His forces would have to take new positions within the citadel and wait for these heathens to enter. He was certain they would, his brothers in the other castles had reported them taking the buildings intact, only breaching the walls where necessary. 

Drott smiled, his master's plans becoming clear in his mind. He had never questioned the one who gave him such power, that would be folly. No, Drott had always accepted his place in the universe with pride, knowing he served a higher power than their pathetic Emperor. 

The battle engine fired a blast of white fire and the entrance to the knight vault crumbled. Again he smiled, thinking it very clever of them. He thought back to the last time he had heard from Darmios, his final instructions. 

"The seed has been planted, the first heretic has sent his agent to turn the great one. Even if we shall fall this day, we are still victorious." 

~Chapter 7~ 

~Breach 

~Update 

~Phoenician 

The Furoris had turned the tide for Sejanus, making short work of the opening the knight constructs came from. The field was still full of combatants, each trying desperately to bring down an Astartes. The Titan braced itself for another shot, the whine of its Melta-Cannon announcing the upcoming blast of superheated air. 

A searing blast of white leapt from the Titan, impacting the wall of the castle and turning it quickly to a puddle of slag, the stone melted down on a molecular level. With a growl, the Gatling Blaster whirred to life, spinning faster and faster until it was ready to fire. 

It sounded to Sejanus like the galaxy's largest zipper, like the very fabric of reality was being torn apart. A fury of shells, each the size of a man, ripped the back ranks of constructs to shreds, sending shards of metal flying in all directions from the multitude of explosions each shell produced. 

Sejanus felt a familiar pride wash over him, seeing the defenders being laid to waste. He had seen the Legio Mortis Titans in battle before, but he had never fully appreciated them until this moment. He fired his bolter at a group of knight constructs closing on him, each practiced shot finding its mark in the center of the red rune on their chest. He raised his bolter high in the air. 

"For the Warmaster, for Terra!" He cried over the vox. "All squads converge on the breach!" 

The response was singular, yet from many voices. The war cry of the Luna Wolves. 

"Lupercal!" 

Space Marines threw themselves at the remaining constructs, putting them down easily before rushing to the breach. As Sejanus reached the opening he turned around, intent on seeing the Furoris for the first time. 

The red engine of death stood as a monument to the Mechanicum, its deep red body covered with pendants and banners of many different Astartes legions. The fearsome weapon arms lowered as much as they could, exposing its carapace mounted missile launchers and the white shoulder carapace they were mounted on. Each white shoulder had the same symbol, that of the Luna Wolves. 

Sejanus threw the Titan a salute, then grabbed his weapon and headed into the breach. 

The strategium was quiet, those few who had been called there waited for the Warmaster. This was an informal meeting with his department heads, that was evident to those involved by the lack of people filling the tiers above. 

Maloghust waited with Lord Commander Hektor Varvaras, Boas Comnenus, Adept Regulus and several other Naval officers and army aides. He went over the data that he was given, making sure he had the details right and that he was prepared to answer any questions. 

The Warmaster entered, each person in the room bowing as best they could. When they had risen, the Warmaster spoke. 

"What news from the troops?" 

"Captain Abaddon reports all fortifications in his sector are secured, Byzant Janizars are moving to replace his men," Varvaras said. 

"What of Torgaddon?" 

"Captain Torgaddon reports the last of the castles in his sector is secured," Varvaras answered. 

"And Sejanus?" 

"Captain Sejanus reports he has just breached the final castle. His other forces have secured their objectives," Maloghust spoke. "My lord, this war is almost over." 

"Good, any other news?" 

"Tech-priests have secured the inert constructs, they will be brought aboard the Mortis Probati for inspection and testing soon, lord," Regulus said. 

"We have received word from the Pride of the Emperor, lord Fulgrim will be arriving soon," Comnenus said. 

"Thank you, Master Comnenus," Horus said. "I look forward to seeing my brother again. If there is no other news, you may return to your duties." 

When the others had gone, Maloghust joined the Warmaster near the armored glass window, the blackness of space arrayed before them. There was a long silence, an almost troubled silence. Maloghust broke it first. 

"My lord, why does your brother come all the way out here?" 

"Probably to request something," Horus responded. "Mal, do you have any idea how many requests I get for additional this, or more of that? It's almost a full time job in and of itself." 

"The burden of command is a heavy one," Maloghust mused. 

Horus laughed, becoming somber shortly afterwards. "When my father gave me this honored position, he did so believing I was the best one for it. After so many years, I'm not so sure of his decision." 

"The Emperor did what he felt was right, if there was a better candidate, do you not think he would have chose them?" 

"I know he would have Mal, it just gets overwhelming." 

"You are his favored son, the first one reunited with him. I, like him, believe there is nobody more fit to run this Great Crusade than you, my lord." 

Again Horus laughed. "That's enough flattery for one day." 

The sleek, elongated ship drifted upon the fleet, its form similar to the Vengeful Spirit, yet very much different. Where he sister ship, as well as those that made up Horus's battle group, were sparse on decoration and filigree, this ship was designed for the ostentatious. Both outside and in, a taste for finery was clearly visible. 

The angular prow was bright purple and trimmed in gold, the Aquila of the Emperor centered on its long shape. Hundreds of armor plates along its sides were inlaid with purple and gold, even its name was picked out in golden script. Pride of the Emperor, the flagship of Fulgrim, Primarch of the III Legion. 

Fulgrim was perfection incarnate, his features sharp and clean with skin like perfect alabaster and hair long and white as the purest snow. His battle armor was purple with gold trim, his right shoulder guard extending into an ornate golden wing. He was everything he sought since the day he had been found on Chemos as a boy, perfection. 

His personal transport, Firebird, made swiftly for the Vengeful Spirit. He had come to discuss matters of grave importance with one of his most beloved brothers, and he had missed him. The early years of the Great Crusade were hard on the Emperor's Children, much of their gene-seed having been lost on route to Luna. Where other legions had numbered over one hundred thousand, he had merely ten thousand. 

Those years he spent fighting with Horus and the Luna Wolves, recruiting men and perfecting his art of war. Once his legion was strong enough, he set out on his own, winning many battles and bringing many worlds back into the fold. 

As the Firebird landed in the launch bay and the void shields returned the atmosphere to the room, several Luna Wolves stepped in to greet him, each one dressed in their battle plate, and chief among them, the Warmaster himself. 

Fulgrim had come alone, his Lord Commanders unable to join him due to wars in other sectors. Walking down the ramp, Fulgrim felt pride fill him as he saw his brother and his sons. 

"Well met brother," Fulgrim said, embracing Horus. 

"It has been too long," Horus replied. "Come, let us tend to our business." 

The two men walked side by side, talking about their victories and those of their men. Fulgrim remembered the days long ago when he called these same passages home, each corridor holding a separate memory as sweet as the one before it. 

"Have you heard from any of the others?" Horus asked his brother. 

"Ferrus Manus and his Iron Hands have encountered the Diasporex, xenos and humans living alongside each other in some sort of symbiotic relationship. He offered the humans a chance to join the Imperium, but they refused." 

"And how goes his war?" 

"Not well, the Diasporex are highly skilled in naval combat. He is having a tough time breaking their lines." 

Horus laughed. "The Gorgon is having trouble breaking something, have you come all this way to tell me jokes?" 

Fulgrim laughed as well. "Not at all brother, the last report I received said the Diasporex had damaged at least one ship, maybe more. He requests immediate assistance." 

Horus stopped, looking hard at his brother. "This is why you have come, to personally request to aide him?" 

"Yes, I felt it would be quicker and speak more to our bond of brotherhood than sending the request via Astropath." 

"I shall think on it. Now that I have you here, I have something for you that you may be interested in helping me with." 

"Oh, and what might that be?" Fulgrim asked, a smile pursing his lips. 

"We are about to bring compliance to another world, and rumor has it that you can throw one hell of a celebration." 

Fulgrim feigned shock. "What has become of you brother, the Warmaster wishing to celebrate a victory with more than a briefing?" 

"Would you rather I get pointers from our brother Leman Russ? I'm sure the Wolf King would be more than happy to show us how to drink that Fenrisian Ale all night in some frigid hall," Horus mocked. 

"I will help you in this matter, not because I believe you wouldn't go to the Wolf King, but because I know he wouldn't donate one drop of his precious ale, not even to the Warmaster." 

They both laughed, continuing on down the corridor to the Warmaster's chamber. When they arrived, Horus dismissed his Captains and took Fulgrim's council alone. 

~Chapter 8~ 

~Verdict 

~Presentation 

~Departure 

His bolter bucked in his hands, the mass reactive shell detonating within his target and turning his chest to ruin. Sejanus had been waiting for this, when he could put down the true enemies of man, those who would deny the Emperor. 

His men had breached the walls and taken the courtyard of the castle. All that remained was the citadel, the last bastion against compliance. The way was barred, though that wouldn't last long. Sejanus called for a melta charge, setting it on the seam between the two large iron doors. 

With a slight pop, a hiss and a thud, the way had been opened, the iron bar, as well as most of the door below the charge, having been reduced to slag. His men quickly took the main room, killing those who resisted and rounding up those who could pose a threat. 

Upon seeing the swift death of his people, the master of the Crimson Eagles put a dagger to his own throat. He spoke without any emotion or remorse. 

"You have claimed my castle, the lives of my people, and this planet in the name of your Emperor. You will not have the pleasure of killing me." 

Before he could take his own life, an Astartes warrior grabbed his wrist, twisting it until it broke with a soft click. He screamed in agony, clawing at the man who was holding him. 




Heresy Bk. 01: Prophecy of Betraya



Sejanus approached the man, held in place by his battle brother. Taking the man by the neck, Sejanus lifted him off the ground. 

"Where is the sorcerer leading your army?" Sejanus asked gruffly. 

"You will never find him," the man said raggedly. 

"Then we will burn this entire planet. Every last person here will perish unless you give up his location." Sejanus was never good at bluffing, but he hoped that his mood would help this time. 

"The catacombs," he finally got out. 

"Thank you," Sejanus said before breaking the man's neck. 

Deep beneath the castle, Sejanus followed the twisting maze of corridors that constituted the catacombs. The air was foul and unwelcoming, the stench of death lingering in the air. Joined by several company veterans and a Sister of Silence, they pushed forward. 

It seemed like hours had passed, the depth and the darkness playing tricks on him. He could hear talking coming from up ahead, a man's voice as well as something wholly unnatural. The end of the passageway was lit by candles, the shadows flickering across the walls. 

An old man was hunched over a stone pillar, unnatural light pulsed from runes on its side as he gazed into the top of it. He didn't bother to look up. 

"Welcome, I suppose you've come to kill me." His voice was harsh and ragged, like two stones rubbing against each other. 

"You suppose correctly. Though that call is not mine to make," Sejanus replied. 

He looked to the Silent Sister, it was her call when dealing with psykers. She studied the runes for a moment, safe in the knowledge that every bolter in the room was trained on the old man. She turned to Sejanus, gave him a hard look and stepped forward. 

The runes on the pillar died out, his expression turned grim. He looked up at his guests, disheartened by the loss of his power. The Sister raised her bolter and calmly squeezed the trigger. 

Ardarik Velas was sweating profusely, his palms were clammy and his face ashen. He had never been more worried in all his life. He, along with Camille Gaines and Melus Khol, had been summoned to the Primarchs chamber. His official summons, given to him by Maloghust not an hour ago, had requested he bring the picts he had taken from the gantry. 

Though he had not been told that Camille or Melus would be getting summoned as well, he had easily figured it out when Maloghust had presented him with the notice, as well as the pass to be on the Astartes decks, and still had two more to deliver. 

He had been waiting a while for the others to arrive, standing outside the door to the Astartes decks so as not to be questioned by anyone still aboard. His mind was racing, wondering what could be taking them so long. He rationalized that he only had one data slate to grab, while they had much more to bring with them. 

Khol was the first to join him, bringing with him a notebook full of what Velas assumed were his works based off what had transpired. Several pages were loose, almost falling to the grated floor several times. 

"Hello Melus, I see you've been hard at work," Velas greeted. 

"Ardarik, always a pleasure," Khol responded. "Where is Camille? she should be here by now." 

"I was hoping you had seen her," Velas responded. He was now growing even more nervous. 

The door opened in front of them and Camille stood with a cloth covered cart full of paintings. Ardarik smiled at her, making mental notes of the way her hair framed her face perfectly, how her robe accentuated her figure. 

"Sorry I'm late, I had to procure this cart from the maintenance department. Apparently, one of the workers has a crush on me," Camille said with a giggle. 

"He's not the only one," Velas said softly, wishing he could take it back as soon as the words left his mouth. 

"We better get moving, it won't do to keep the Warmaster waiting," Khol reminded them. They set a quick pace for the Primarch. 

Maloghust was waiting for them outside the doors to the Primarchs room, his abnormal size still making Velas nervous. As they arrived, he smiled and opened the doors. Before them, the Warmaster sat at his desk, going through stacks of paper and listening to soft music. 

Velas stifled a grin. Who would have guessed that the Warmaster, the Emperor's proxy in this Great Crusade, would act like any old mortal who works for a living. This was a demi-god given life in our world, yet he acted like so many Average Joe's had back on Terra. 

"Ah, just in time," Horus said, setting aside his work. "Come in, don't be shy." 

The three entered, bowing to the Warmaster and rising when he waved a dismissive hand. If Ardarik Velas was nervous before, he was terrified now. Taking in the room, Velas noticed many paintings and picts covered the walls. He recognized one in particular, on the wall behind the Warmaster. It was one of his works, a pict of the Imperial Palace. 

"I understand you three have completed several works since the envoy left. I would very much like to see them," the Warmaster said. 

Ardarik's pulse quickened, the thought of the Warmaster judging his picts before anyone else had seen them filling him with dread. What if they weren't good enough? What if he was sent back to Terra in disgrace? One thing gave him comfort, his pict of the Imperial Palace. 

It had been his most criticized work, not to mention his most difficult. When it was taken, the grounds and surrounding areas were off limits. He had snapped the pict and quickly sent it to his secure server before the Adeptus Custodes, the Emperor's personal guards had hauled him off to a cell for a week. They had seized his picter and believed the image destroyed. He had waited until the grounds had reopened before releasing the image. 

"Master Khol, would you begin?" Horus asked, though it wasn't so much a request as it was a command. 

"Of course my lord," Khol replied nervously. He proceeded to read a few of his poems for the Warmaster, getting smiles and grins at his use of language. Velas wasn't paying attention, his attention had been drawn to the image of Captain Abaddon and Captain Kibre, and the object that passed between the two. If his old eyes had caught it, the enhanced vision of the Primarch would easily spot it. 

"Mistress Gaines, I've heard good things about your work, some of it even graces other ships of the Legion," Horus said. There was honesty in his words, a true appreciation for a working artist. 

"Thank you lord, it does me well to hear that. I have created several paintings, but I only have one I really want you to see," Camille said, lifting up a long painting. 

The image was amazing, Velas thought. The entire First Company arrayed before their Captain, the sleek forms of thunderhawks silent and waiting behind them. His picts had gone to good use, the colors perfectly matching the real thing. 

"Mistress Gaines, this is incredible," Horus said as he studied the work, judging every detail. "I don't think I can find anything out of place. Is this the only copy of this?" 

"It is, my lord." 

"Well, we will have to fix that. My brother Fulgrim has a way to copy the exact image, down to the raised areas left by the brush strokes. Would you mind if I have it sent to him for copying?" 

"My lord," Camille stammered, "I would be honored." 

"Excellent, we shall have it done as soon as possible. Master Velas, last but certainly not least. I have been a fan of your work for quite a while, as has my father," Horus said. 

Velas almost fainted. The Emperor, a fan of his work, this was the most shocking day of his life. 

"My lord, I have a few picts," Velas managed to say, his throat was dry. "I hope I do not disappoint you now." 

Velas put the data slate into the pict reader as the Warmaster laughed at his words. He grabbed the selector and handed it to the Warmaster. 

Clicking through the picts, the Warmaster was genuinely pleased. He stopped at the one pict that Velas had feared he would, looking right at the spot Velas bad hoped he wouldn't. He smiled wryly and moved on, cycling through until he reached the end. 

"You have not disappointed Master Velas," the Warmaster said. "I have some things I would like to discuss with you three. First, the matter of Master Khol." 

"Lord?" Khol squeaked. The color had drained from his face. 

"You have quite a linguistic gift sir, I fear that this may not be the place for one if your talents. As such, I am sending you to the Twenty-Eighth Expedition under command of my brother Fulgrim. Effective immediately. Maloghust will help you with your transition, you are dismissed." 

Khol looked crushed as he bowed to the Warmaster and turned to leave. Horus looked at the other two remembrancers standing before him. He smiled and spoke in his soft, patrician voice. 

"Fear not, you two aren't going anywhere. I would like to formally invite you two to attend our end of action briefing, to record and capture the true nature of the crusade. My father wishes that this history not be forgotten, but if all that is recorded are the battles, then people like me and my brothers may be lost to history." 

When neither spoke, Horus laughed. "Forgive me, will you accept?" 

"Of course my lord," Camille almost yelled. 

The celebration had been grand, one only the Primarch of the Emperor's Children could arrange. Tales of great deeds and stoic devotion to duty had been told, accolades given and friendships forged anew in the fires of war. Though compliance had only taken a little more than a day, each world counted in this Great Crusade. 

The senior commanders gathered again in the strategium, a personal item placed on the dais by those who may wish to speak. Ardarik Velas and Camille Gaines had been offered the chance to document the briefing and given free reign of the upper tiers. 

The Warmaster entered to bows, leaping onto the ouslite disc with a single bound. He took in the room, each person dressed in their robes of office or battle plate. 

"Welcome, friends and honored guests, to the ten billionth briefing since setting out on this Great Crusade," Horus spoke, his voice easily carrying through the silent room. "The first order of business I'd like to discuss is that of our next destination." 

Boas Comnenus stood, linking a data slate with the holo-projector above the room. The actinic blue light showing several star clusters. 

"My lord, our sensors have detected life forms in five separate star clusters. The closest one is five weeks standard warp travel time away, with the farthest being four months, standard," Comnenus spoke in his worn, gravelly voice. "The most interesting one, and the one we recommend, consists of nine planets orbiting a single sun. Life signs have been detected on the third planet." 

The Warmaster smiled. "Very similar to our own Sol System, yes?" 

"Indeed, my lord." 

"OK, I'm sold. Master Comnenus, when this briefing is through, make turns for warp translation." 

As they spoke of this new system, Captain Sejanus couldn't help but remember the words of Darmios, and an unfamiliar fear shuddered through him.