Horus shook his head, drawing closer to her with every step.
Petronella felt her eyes fill with tears and she knew that this couldn't be happening. The Warmaster would not be trying to scare her. They must be playing some cruel joke on her. The idea of the Astartes making a fool of her stung Petronella's wounded pride and the part of her that had snapped angrily at the Warmaster upon their first meeting rose to the surface.
'I am the Palatina Majoria of House Carpinus and I demand that you respect that!' she cried, standing firm before the Warmaster. 'You can't scare me like this.'
'I'm not trying to scare you,' said Horus, reaching out to hold her by the shoulders.
'You're not?' asked Petronella, his words filling her with relief. She'd known that this couldn't be right, that there had to be some mistake.
'No,' said Horus, his hands sliding towards her neck. 'I am illuminating you.'
Her neck broke with one swift snap of his wrist.
The medicae cell was cramped, but clean and well maintained. Mersadie Oliton sat by the bed and wept softly to herself, tears running freely down her coal dark skin. Kyril Sindermann sat with her and he too shed tears as he held the hand of the bed's occupant.
Euphrati Keeler lay, unmoving, her skin pale and smooth, with a sheen to it that made it look like polished ceramic. Since she had faced the horror in Archive Chamber Three, she had lain unmoving and unresponsive in this medicae bay.
Sindermann had told Mersadie what had happened and she found herself torn between wanting to believe him and calling him delusional. His talk of a daemon and of Euphrati standing before it with the power of the Emperor pouring through her was too fantastical to be true… wasn't it? She wondered if he'd told anyone else of it.
The apothecaries and medics could find nothing physically wrong with Euphrati Keeler, save for the eagle shaped bum on her hand that refused to fade. Her vital signs were stable and her brain wave activity registered normaclass="underline" no one could explain it and no one had any idea how to wake her from this coma-like state.
Mersadie came to visit Euphrati as often as she could, but she knew that Sindermann came every day, spending several hours at a time with her. Sometimes they would sit together, talking to Euphrati, telling her of the events happening on the planets below, the battles that had been fought, or simply passing on ship gossip.
Nothing seemed to reach the imagist, and Mersadie sometimes wondered if it might not be a kindness to let her die. What could be worse for a person like Euphrati than being trapped by her own flesh, with no ability to reason, to communicate or express herself.
She and Sindermann had arrived together today and each instantly knew that the other had been crying. The news of Ignace Karkasy's suicide had hit them all hard and Mersadie still couldn't believe how he could have done such a thing.
A suicide note had been found in his billet, which was said to have been composed in verse. It spoke volumes of Ignace's enormous conceit that he made his last goodbye in his own poetry.
They had wept for another lost soul, and then they sat on either side of Euphrati's bed, holding each other's and Keeler's hands as they spoke of better times.
Both turned as they heard a soft knock behind them.
A thin faced man wearing the uniform of the Legio Mortis and an earnest face stood framed in the doorway.
Behind him, Mersadie could see that the corridor was filled with people.
'Is it alright if I come in?' he asked.
Mersadie Oliton said, 'Who are you?'
'My name's Titus Cassar, Moderati Primus of the Dies Irae. I've come to see the saint.'
They met in the observation deck, the lighting kept low and the darkness of space leavened only by me reflected glare of the planets they had just conquered. Loken stood with his palm against the armoured viewing bay, believing that something fundamental had happened to the Sons of Horus on Aureus, but not knowing what.
Torgaddon joined him moments later and Loken welcomed him with a brotherly embrace, grateful to have so loyal a comrade.
They stood in silence for some time, each lost in thought as they watched the defeated planets turn in space below them. The preparations for departure were virtually complete and the fleet was ready to move on, though neither warrior had any idea of where they were going.
Eventually Torgaddon broke the silence, 'So what do we do?'
'I don't know, Tarik,' replied Loken. 'I really don't.'
'I thought not,' said Torgaddon, holding up a glass test tube with something in it that reflected soft light with a golden gleam. 'This won't help then.'
'What is it?' asked Loken.
'These,' said Torgaddon, 'are the bolt round fragments removed from Hektor Varvarus.'
'Bolt round fragments? Why do you have them?'
'Because they're ours.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean they're ours,' repeated Torgaddon. 'The bolt that killed the lord commander came from an Astartes bolter, not from one of the Brotherhood's guns.'
Loken shook his head. 'No, there must be some mistake.'
'There's no mistake. Apothecary Vaddon tested the fragments himself. They're ours, no question.'
'You think Varvarus caught a stray round?'
Torgaddon shook his head. 'The wound was dead centre, Garviel. It was an aimed shot.'
Loken and Torgaddon both understood the implications, and Loken felt his melancholy rise at the thought of Varvarus having been murdered by one of their own.
Neither spoke for a long moment. Then Loken said, 'In the wake of such deceit and destruction shall we despair, or is faith and honour the spur to action?'
'What's that?' asked Torgaddon.
'It's part of a speech I read in a book that Kyril Sindermann gave me,' said Loken. 'It seemed appropriate given where we find ourselves now.'
'That's true enough,' agreed Torgaddon.
'What are we becoming, Tarik?' asked Loken. 'I don't recognise our Legion any more. When did it change?'
'The moment we encountered the Technocracy.'
'No,' said Loken. 'I think it was on Davin. Nothing's been the same since then. Something happened to the Sons of Horus there, something vile and dark and evil.'
'Do you realise what you're saying?'
'I do,' replied Loken. 'I'm saying that we have to uphold the truth of the Imperium of Mankind, no matter what evil may assail it.'
Torgaddon nodded. 'The Mournival oath.'
'Evil has found its way into our Legion, Tarik, and it's up to us to cut it out. Are you with me?' asked Loken.
'Always,' said Torgaddon, and the two warriors shook hands in the old Terran way.
The Warmaster's sanctum was dimly lit, the cold glow of the bridge instruments the only source of illumination. The room was full, the core of the Warmaster's officers and commanders gathered around the table. The Warmaster sat at his customary place at the head of the table while Aximand and Abaddon stood behind him, their presence a potent reminder of his authority. Maloghurst, Regulus, Erebus, Princeps Turnet of the Legio Mortis, and various other, hand picked, Army commanders filled out the rest of the gathering.
Satisfied that everyone who needed to be there had arrived, Horus leaned forwards and began to speak.
'My friends, we begin the next phase of our campaign among the stars soon and I know that you're all curious as to where we travel next. I will tell you, but before I do, I need every one of you to be aware of the magnitude of the task before us.'
He could see he had everyone's attention, and continued. 'I am going to topple the Emperor from his Throne on Terra and take his place as the Master of Mankind.'
The enormity of his words was not lost on the assembled warriors and he gave them a few minutes to savour their weight, enjoying the look of alarm that crossed each man's face.