'Euphrati! Come on!' shouted Sindermann in terror.
A whipping limb formed from the horror's body and another gout of blue fire roared towards her. Keeler stood firm before it and held the symbol of her faith out in front of her.
'The Emperor protects!' she screamed as the flames washed over her.
Rain fell in heavy sheets, and Loken could feel a tangible charge to the night air as dark thunderheads pressed down on the tens of thousands of people gathered around the Delphos. Lightning bolts fenced above him, and the sense of anticipation was almost unbearable.
Nine days had passed since the Warmaster had been interred within the Temple of the Serpent Lodge and with each passing day the weather had worsened. Rain fell in an unending downpour that threatened to wash away the makeshift camps of the pilgrims, and booming peals of thunder shook the sky like ringing hammer blows.
The Warmaster had once told Loken that the cosmos was too large and sterile for melodrama, but the skies above Davin seemed determined to prove him wrong.
Torgaddon and Vipus stood with him at the top of the steps and hundreds of the Sons of Horus followed behind the three of them. Company captains, squad leaders, file officers and warriors had come to Davin to witness what would be either their salvation or their undoing. They had marched through the singing crowds, the dirty beige robes of remembrancers mixed in with army uniforms and civilian dress.
'Looks like the entire bloody Expedition's here.' Torgaddon had said as they marched up the steps, trampling trinkets and baubles left as offerings to the Warmaster beneath their armoured boots.
From the top of the processional steps, Loken could see the same group he had faced nine days previously, with the exception of Maloghurst who had returned to the ship some days before. Rain ran down Loken's face as a flash of lightning lit up the surface of the great bronze gateway, making it shine like a great wall of fire. The gathered Astartes warriors stood sentinel before it in the rain: Abaddon, Aximand, Targost, Sedirae, Ekaddon and Kibre.
None of them had abandoned their vigil before the gates of the Delphos, and Loken wondered if they had bothered to eat, drink or sleep since he had last laid eyes upon them.
'What do we do now, Garvi?' asked Vipus.
'We join our brothers and wait.'
'Wait for what?'
'We'll know that when it happens,' said Torgaddon. 'Won't we, Garvi?'
'I certainly hope so, Tarik,' replied Loken. 'Come on.'
The three of them set off towards the gateway, the thunder echoing from the massive structure's sides and the snakes atop each pillar slithering with each flashing bolt of lightning.
Loken watched as his brothers in front of the gate came to stand in line at the edge of the rippling pool of water, the full moon reflected in its black surface. Horus Aximand had once called it an omen. Was it again? Loken didn't know whether to hope that it was or not.
The Sons of Horus followed their captains down the wide processional in their hundreds, and Loken kept a grip on his temper, knowing that if things went ill here, there would almost certainly be bloodshed.
The thought horrified him and he hoped with all his heart that such a tragedy could be averted, but he would be ready if it came to war…
'Are you battle-ready?' hissed Loken to Torgaddon and Vipus on a discrete vox channel.
'Always,' nodded Torgaddon. 'Full load on every man.'
'Yes,' said Vipus. 'You really think…'
'No,' said Loken, 'but be ready in case we need to fight. Keep your humours balanced and it will not come to that.'
'You too, Garvi,' warned Torgaddon. The long column of Astartes warriors reached the pool, the Warmaster's bearers standing on its opposite side, stoic and unrepentant.
'Loken,' said Serghar Targost. 'Are you here to fight us?'
'No,' said Loken, seeing that, like them, the others were locked and loaded.
'We've come to see what happens. It's been nine days, Serghar.'
'It has indeed,' nodded Targost.
'Where is Erebus? Have you seen him since you put the Warmaster in this place?'
'No,' growled Abaddon, his long hair unbound and his eyes hostile. 'We have not. What does that have to do with anything?'
'Calm yourself, Ezekyle,' said Torgaddon. 'We're all here for the same thing.'
'Loken,' said Aximand, 'there has been bad blood between us all, but that must end now. For us to turn on one another would dishonour the Warmaster's memory.'
'You speak as though he's already dead, Horus.'
'We will see,' said Aximand. 'This was always a forlorn hope, but it was all we had.'
Loken looked into the haunted eyes of Horus Aximand, seeing the despair and doubt that plagued him, and felt his anger towards his brother diminish.
Would he have acted any differently had he been present when the decision to inter the Warmaster had been taken? Could he in all honesty say that he would not have accepted the decision of his friends and peers if the situation had been reversed? He and Horus Aximand might even now be standing on different sides of the moon shimmered pool.
'Then let us wait as brothers united in hope,' said Loken, and Aximand smiled gratefully.
The palpable tension lifted from the confrontation and Loken, Torgaddon and Vipus marched around the pool to stand with their brothers before the vast gate.
A dazzling bolt of lightning reflected from the gate as the Mournival stood shoulder to shoulder with one another, and a thunderous boom, that had nothing to do with the storm, split the night.
Loken saw a dark line appear in the centre of the gate as the thunder was suddenly silenced and the lightning stilled in the space of a heartbeat. The sky was mystify-ingly calm, as though the storm had blown out and the heavens had paused in their revelries better to witness the unfolding drama on the planet below.
Slowly, the gate began to open.
The flames bathed Euphrati Keeler, but they were cold and she felt no pain from them. The silver eagle blazed in her hand, thrust before her like a talisman, and she felt a wondrous energy fill her, rushing through her from the tips of her toes to the shorn ends of her hair.
'The power of the Emperor commands you, abomination!' she yelled, the words unfamiliar, but feeling right.
Ing Mae Sing and Kyril Sindermann watched her in amazement as she took one step, and then another, towards the horror. The monster was transfixed, whether by her courage or her faith, she didn't know, but whatever the reason, she was thankful for it.
Its limbs flailed as though some invisible force attacked it, its screeching laughter turning into the pitiful wails of a child.
'In the name of the Emperor, go back to the warp, you bastard!' said Keeler, her confidence growing as the substance of the monster diminished, skins of light shearing away from its body. The silver eagle grew hotter in her hand and she could feel the skin of her palms blistering under its heat.
Ing Mae Sing joined her, adding her own powers to Keeler's assault on the monster. The air around the astropath grew colder and Keeler moved her hand close to the psyker in the hopes of cooling the blazing eagle.
The monster's internal light was fading and flickering, its nebulous oudine spitting embers of light as though it fought to hold onto existence. The light from Keeler's eagle outshone its hellish illumination tenfold and the entire corridor was bleached shadowless with its brilliance.
'Whatever you're doing, keep doing it!' cried Ing Mae Sing. 'It's weakening.'
Keeler tried to answer, but found that she had no voice left. The wondrous energy that had filled her was now streaming from her through the eagle, taking her own strength with it.