Chapitre 38: Chapter Twenty One: Gold, Silver, and Steel (Part V)
Location: The Bucephalus, War-council chamber
Date: 819.M30 (Three days since the end of the Lunar Crusade)
In the days after the salvation of Luna, the Primarchs had gone about their business. Cleaning up any straggling Chaos vessels and other duties. For each of the nineteen, they had managed to get back to a semblance of normalcy. The shock of the Chaos assault and the fall of Horus had worn on them.
Marcus and Kalib were both evasive in answers. They told their siblings a brief summation of the events within Luna. Neither Primarch seemed to have a clear answer but the message was understandable. Something terrible had happened and Horus was dead. Shock had rippled through the brothers and rumors started to circulate within the Imperium. A Primarch dead? Such a thing seemed impossible. Each of the Primarchs reacted according to their nature. Some bared fangs and called for vengeance. Others analyzed the possibilities and planned. Denial and disbelief were also common. Some such as Phillip Lot, Primarch of the XVII Legion believed that Horus was not truly dead. The Emperor had given them all life once before, what is to say he could not do it again.
When the Emperor called for his sons they rushed to the Bucephalus. Nineteen Primarchs (The youngest split into two bodies) arrived in the Gilded Capital ship eager for news. The Emperor had not been seen or heard from for days. Under Malcadors orders they had done their duties and waited. The XVI Legion had reorganized under its Lord-Commanders. Morale was low and questions were many among them. The Primarch and the near entirety of the Legion martial elite were dead or severely injured. Still hope burned in the Sons of Horus. Like the XI and XIII Legion, they had received many merretts in the Lunar Crusade. For now, they held out hope for good news and held their heads high. After all, it was the XVI who liberated numerous besieged loyalist outposts and lead the initial evacuation attempts.
Gathered in the War-Council Chamber the Primarchs were oddly silent. Nineteen brothers sitting or standing around the massive strategy center. In this room, an entire interstellar campaign could be planned, organized and conducted. Usually bustling with Custodes, Admirals, Generals, Astartes, and every other branch of the Imperial military. Now it's only occupants were the quiet Demigods.
Twenty minutes after all of them had arrived its doors swung open once again. Like a golden dawn, the Emperor's light poured into the room. The Primarchs bowed as their father entered. Only noticing something else behind him once the door shut behind the Emperor. Horus Lupercali stood there. Alive but clearly not well.
The Primarchs emitted various exclamations of surprise and joy. Moving to embrace him and see to their thought lost sibling. To their shock instead of greeting them, Horus recoiled. Unknown to his brothers' visions of another reality flickered through the XVI mind. He saw the worst of each sibling. How the charming elegance of Iskandar could become serpentine depravity. Or how Konrad's psychic gifts and moral compass might lead him into nihilistic madness. Of all the two he feared most was Dante and Phillip… He could not bare to even look at either of them. For entirely different reasons. The sight of another Horus breaking the weeping Angel as the IX begged for an answer. Was far too much to dwell on. Antithetically Horus had been always close to Philip. So the thought of his immediate younger brother orchestrating his and the universes damnation was stomach turning.
Raising a gauntleted hand the Emperor motioned for them to give Horus distance. Eddard being firstborn spoke first: "Father, we believed Horus to be dead. I see that is not true, what in Terra's name happened within Luna. We thought the Moon would be destroyed?"
Shakely the palid Lupercali answered: "I did die. I drove a spear of psychic power into my very hearts and soul. All in an attempt to deny the Four victory."
Silence again filled the chamber. Such an idea seemed ridiculous but the evidence was plain to their superhuman senses. The slight lurch to Horus's movements, his copper skin a sickly pale, and the lines of surgical scars along with the missing eye. In their brother, they could see a kind of animal aggression and stress. Like an apex predator captured and experimented on. They could smell and even see the immense regenerative properties at work to heal the numerous wounds. Horus had indeed died, and badly it seemed. Only for the Emperor to bring him back to life. A single shared thought independently entered the Primarchs mind. How, and at what cost had this been done?
At the Emperor's command, they all took seats around the central table. Twenty-two mammoth chairs awaited the Imperial royal family. Sitting down the Emperor summoned a holo-projection of two objects. The moon and the Speartip of Longinus.
Gesturing to them the Emperor began speaking: "Horus led the main assault into the cult's headquarters. Originally he was to secure it and cut off the enemy command. Then await my arrival so the warp-rift could be closed. My delay by the Primordial Annihilator aspect known as Hashut prevented me from assisting. The Primordial Annihilator used this opportunity to directly attack Horus through the rift."
Another hologram appeared showing helm-camera footage of Horus staring into the rift and screaming: "At that moment with my consciousness occupied. Chaos unleashed an extremely devastating psychic assault. With the intent of corrupting your brother. To give some context the power used would have been enough to drive multiple planets to insanity. With rescue not possible and the Warp-Cancer seeping into his mind Horus sacrificed himself to stop the corruption."
"Why did he not reach out for our aid? We are linked psychically and together we could have stood against this." Asked Magnus.
Bitter laughter from Horus answered: "You don't think I tried? If I managed to make contact with any of you the insanity would have simply spread. I would not damn my brothers for my weakness in facing the dark gods unprepared. Even death was not enough to cleanse that… horror."
The Emperor continued: "Horus drove his gift, the spear of Longinus into himself. Killing his body and absorbing his soul. It was kept locked within the spear tip and not cast into the warp. Making resurrection possible. Without similar circumstances, such a feat is impossible This only occurred through my countermeasures and a certain amount of cosmic happenstance. Anything can die, even you my sons. Do not forget that."
That sobering thought rippled through the chamber. "With Horus fallen the Primordial Annihilator were forced to another plan. Using the leader of the cult as a host for Be'lakor: A particularly old and powerful neverborn. With only the XVI Legion elite facing it, I decided to enact another failsafe was necessary. At my order Malcador unleashed an experimental weapon to destroy Be'lakor and seal the rift." said the Emperor
Images of the Angel now appeared. Its light was blinding even diluted through pic-feeds. "That is the Angel, similar to Arik Taranis it is a prototype for you my sons. Raw power given purpose. Unstable, dangerous and incredibly destructive. It succeeded in banishing Be'lakor back to warp. Injuring it so thoroughly I doubt it will be able to partially manifest for thousands of years. With Hashut cast into the deep, I could turn my attention to Luna, and used the Angel to shut the rift"
Not a word was said for a solid minute. Breaking the silence Horus spat an accusation: "So now they know the events. Are you going to tell them the rest of it? Or keep it hidden like so many other things."
With an iron-hard gaze, the Emperor looked at his sons and spoke: "I allowed the corruption and infiltration of Luna. This insurrection occurred according to my will. It was necessary for the survival of the human species."
"Why?" Asked Rogal Maur. "Why put the Imperium, us, and the dream of unity at risk like that?"
The holograms blinked away, replaced with a series of thaumaturgical readings. Data about the rift within Luna. To the Primarchs, who were all versed to some degree in such psiences a startling fact became apparent. The mammoth warp-rift that had powered the Lunar rebellion was much older than they thought. It was not born during the uprising as they assumed, but decades previously. That fact filtered into their minds and was shortly followed by other realizations provided. The rift had been created shortly before there birth, and its creation had released a surge of energy. Both chaotic and anathemic throughout the Solar System.
"Fate is a fickle and ever-shifting thing.": Said the Emperor quietly as his sons watched the readings that had been recorded so many years ago. When the Word Bearers and Legion of the Damned dueled in the artificial womb of his sons.
"Despite my best efforts, the Primordial Annihilator discovered you, my sons. Seeing the power you could become it sought to claim the Primarch Project for itself. By twisting the fabric of reality and sending its minion into my laboratory. It sought to cast you into the Warp. Where it could twist you each to their purposes. Originally they succeeded." Continued the Emperor.
Dante and Konrad responded almost in unison. Answering the question raised by the Emperor's phrasing. "That was where the rift came from. The gods attempt to change the timeline." To the twin seers of the Primarchs, the idea of shifting fate was most familiar.
"Yes, and they should have succeeded. Sending you all hurtling into the Warp. Where I would duel them to arrange your fates. Each of you would land on a world fit to forge you or break you. Despite all my power, I could not save you, only give you each a chance to survive." responded their father.
"Why do you speak of such possibilities as if they were fact?" was the near frantic response of Kota. The idea of being cast into the Warp, separated from his family. Subject to the malice of Chaos brought a shiver to the XIX Primarch.
"Because they once were fact. In the destiny of the universe, set in place by the Four, they succeeded. Hundreds of years from now. Two of you would die and nine would be corrupted. Starting a rebellion that would ruin the Imperium and cast humanity into ten thousand years of misery. This was the fate set in stone by the self-proclaimed gods." spoke the Emperor in a somber whisper.
"This future was so inviolate that the minions who broke my wards and let the Four steal you all were corrupted Astartes. The original damned sons of the First Heretic. As ordained by the Annihilator they would prove their loyalty by unleashing evil. Across the fabric of existence. A million variations of this event and its consequences occurred. All equally possible futures that all end with the laughter of thirsting gods. Where humanity sacrifices all that is good and righteous in the name of ugly survival."
Silence filled the chamber yet again. The idea of such a wretched fate seemed to pollute the very room. Ironically the often silent Tengri spoke up first: "This chaotic rebellion kills you and sets the universe down the path of extinction. Horrid, but makes sense. So then what stopped the Four from succeeding?"
"The God Emperor of Mankind" was the Emperor's response.
Visions of a broken husk upon a throne of sacrifice flickered through the Primarchs. The sight of a twisted, broken version of their father. Locked in eternal agony in a desperate battle to hold back the darkness. At that moment they understood. Information was conveyed through bursts of psionic energy. They saw the desperate hope of the Carrion-Lord as it sent its Legion of Fire and Souls back along the currents of time. How the Primarchs were saved and how a gift of knowledge and power redeemed the Emperor before he could fail.
As the tidal wave of information crashed through the Primarchs minds the Emperor continued. "I brought you all here for a few reasons. Horus's return is most obvious. Yet in his wrath post-resurrection he brought my attention to a serious problem. A lesson and gift I had thought you all possessed. This knowledge will help explain my choices and actions. To the naive and small minded I often seem inhumane and foolish. I am neither. In truth, it is the exact opposite. Possessing the wisdom of the ages. I must sometimes act in ways that seem incorrect. That is because I see what is, what can be and what should be. The Lunar Rebellion occurred according to my will because the other possibilities were worse. This grim truth and many more shall now be known to you."
With those words, yet another bombardment of psychic imagery struck the Primarchs. Instead of memories and information, this was futures and possibilities. They saw how fate would unfold if different choices were made. How no matter how many wards and guards the Emperor placed around the rift, it would eventually unleash hell at the worst possible time. Providing the tipping point needed for chaotic victory. So the Emperor let the Gods use it as they pleased. Pouring resources, time and so very much energy into the Lunar Cultists. Preparing to strike the Imperium hard and early.
In fact so early it shocked the Emperor. Simply because instead of taking the tactical or most efficient path of fate, they took the most grandiose and epic one. The "Gods" like all such things are lies given sentience. False power parasitizing everything it can. So they acted not as Generals or masterminds but as a storyteller. Telling the tragedy of humanities fall. How the Great Crusade failed before it could begin. If they waited a year they could have struck a nearly undefended Sol System, doing far more damage and only being pushed back by another secret of the Emperor.
Instead, they fed the loose collection of lunatics the Four could call upon as there material "army" into the jaws of Twenty Legions. They expended colossal amounts of energy to summon Hashut and Be'lakor. Not to mention the attempt to turn Horus. It all failed, spectacularly. The loss of Zamora and the Corrupted Astartes were the only victory for the Gods. Zamora would be avenged and even now the Emperor could detect the ripples in fate the Eversacrifice was setting forth. He would be a threat, but just one of many to be crushed.
The unworthy Astartes had been culled. Preventing the taint of their weakness from worming into the Legions. By letting the Moon burn and displaying the horrors of the Warp humanity had been hardened. Taught with blood and fire to hate the Dark Gods. To stand against those who sought to enslave or devour humanity. The Imperium would be founded on a bedrock of triumph. Triumph over mankind's worst foes. The Mutant, the Xeno, the Traitor and Worse.
The Death of Horus was a tragedy that could only be prevented by something worse occurring. Should the Emperor have abandoned his duel with an unborn God to save his child? In doing so risk the death of countless trillions and humanity itself. He wanted nothing more to rescue his child from the Warps evil. Instead, he had a duty, to protect mankind until the last spark of life left him. So the Emperor made the same bleak calculation he had since before the Gyptian Pyramids were erected. Sacrifice the few to save the many.
Yet all that could not compare to the impact the Angel had. Instead of simply threatening the Gods into shutting the gate totally. The Angel had let the Emperor strike a blow against the Four. In all his worse visions of possible futures, he had only seen the gate close out of fear. Fear of a weapon being used on it and touching the gods. The reality that unfolded had been far better. Instead of chasing away the Predators in the dark like so many times before. The Emperor had struck a blow at the circling horrors. Driving the Angel into the heart of Chaos. Scarring the gods, and setting the Four against each other once more. Buying the Imperium time until the Parasites could recover.
The Primarchs understood now. The true fickle nature of fate, and how the Emperor dueled the Gods for mankind's future. Literally and figuratively. They saw the great burden resting on those ancient shoulders. How he refused to share it with anyone. Fearing the failure or destruction of any other who tried to assist. As each piece fell into place, the Twenty Sons of the Emperor experienced a great Revelation.
The Emperor had crafted them for many reasons. For now, they would sire and lead his armies. One day they might help their father in something greater. Become worthy to help shoulder that burden. Twenty more lights to help push back the Darkness. Twenty more paragons to help guide humanity to salvation. The weight of eternity and infinity was not theirs to bear, yet.
Horus understood as well, but still felt a deep pain in his heart. The Emperor loved them as any father would. He just could not love them above all else. The Emperor must be the father, guardian, and protector of all mankind. It would break the Immortal's heart to watch his children die. This would not stop him from letting all of them die. If it meant mankind survived. Something close to comfort, but far uglier soothed the XVI in these thoughts. At least the visions of the God-Emperor told him that if need be, his Father would spend his own life as well. Courage, sacrifice, duty, honor. This is what the Emperor, no, what humanity requires. Horus promised to himself that he would never be found wanting. He had seen what failure meant. The killing fields of Istvaan, the Siege, the horror of Chaos.
With heavy hearts and adamantium will the Primarchs made vows. To serve, and protect humanity from the hungry Darkness. They would be the light. They would be Salvation. At that moment the Emperor's sons changed. No longer were they the untempered youths of the Imperial Palace. Now they were Primarchs. Demi-Gods born and fit to stride the galaxy. Bringing salvation to mankind, and doom to its enemies.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone