My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 458: Act II — End: "The Second Empire"
The drop pod of the Sons of Horus landed on the wastelands of Baal on the ninth day after the First Divine Realm was established.
There was only one person inside—Sejanus.
The Great Angel stood in the desert wind, watching as the weathered veteran approached him in silence.
Bang
The sound of armor striking the ground rang out as Sejanus knelt.
The Great Angel said nothing.
A hoarse voice broke the silence:
"Horus has betrayed us." Sejanus spoke with a worn, aged calm.
"We were trapped in a star system by warp storms. Horus was wounded by some powerful entity—after that, he developed a fever… suffered hallucinations. And from then on, he wasn't quite himself."
"He began speaking strange words—'Imperium Secundus,' 'Warmaster,' 'Regent'…"
"…But that was only the beginning."
Sejanus continued steadily, as though he had already accepted everything.
"I stayed by his side the entire time. It's hard for me to describe what I experienced… that period was chaos. Before it, I saw you—and after, I saw Lorgar, Perturabo, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Leman Russ, Magnus—but I couldn't tell what was real."
"They…"
Sejanus paused.
"Sometimes, when Horus improved, he would awaken from unconsciousness… and they would speak with him."
He went on, though he seemed uneasy about what came next.
"During that time, unrest began to spread within the Legion."
Sejanus swallowed.
"Some began to believe the Emperor had deceived us. Blasphemous ideas started to take root."
The Great Angel stared at him in silence. He didn't know what to say—because that part was true.
The Emperor had deceived them.
"After that…"
Sejanus continued, "There were complicated—and foolish—political struggles. Eventually, I was impeached from the Mournival. The Legion sought new ways to heal Horus… for that, they sacrificed a Primarch's… mortal companion. It seemed to work. The Primarch resumed command."
"But six weeks after he took command again, the Emperor's Children visited us. I heard that the Third Primarch had arrived."
Sejanus lowered his head.
"I don't know exactly what happened—perhaps an argument, accusations thrown back and forth… but Horus collapsed again. He was wounded once more."
"The Legion tried the same method again—but this time it didn't work. The Primarch was on the brink of death."
Sejanus took a deep breath.
"My lord, forgive my disrespect."
"Speak," the Great Angel said coldly.
"Just as you established your divine realm… during that time, our Legion saw a surge of… 'theism.' Many did not wish to lose their gene-father. And so—they went beyond… what the Imperial Truth would permit."
Rituals.
"I know what you intend to say. If the details trouble you, you may omit them, so long as it does not affect my judgment, Sejanus."
Sejanus let out a breath of relief.
"Thank you for your mercy. In any case… whatever methods they ultimately used, Horus stood up again."
"Was that the end of his suffering?" the Great Angel suddenly asked.
"No."
"My lord… no."
Sejanus continued the long, painful account.
"After being awakened, our gene-father developed a strong interest in the warp—though only at a surface level. Perhaps he wished to use psychic power to return the Legion to realspace. But during one such attempt with psykers, he made contact with… something."
"I'm not certain what it was," Sejanus explained.
"But the feeling it gave me… was like that of the 'Crimson Sinner.'"
Magnus—or something behind Magnus?
"In the end, Horus emerged… but he had changed completely," Sejanus said hesitantly.
"Every warrior of the Legion heard the words spoken from our gene-father's lips."
"He said…"
"He said 'the forsaken by gods,' 'the usurpation of sycophants'—and… 'the death of the Emperor.'"
The Great Angel trembled.
. . .
"Come."
Mortarion walked down the corridors of the Endurance. Behind him, Malcador followed closely, keeping pace with the Pale Lord.
"…Unimaginable."
Mortarion commented, "I cannot picture such a scene. In all my projections, I never imagined something like this—unexpected people, unexpected events. You should come and see it."
"Now," the Pale Lord said, quickening his pace, "now is the moment when that miracle can be fully witnessed—the ninth day of the ninth month since the Astronomican went dark."
Malcador remained silent. He gripped his staff tightly. From Mortarion's fragmented words, the old man seemed to realize what might have happened.
The Changer of Ways. Malcador thought.
Whatever Tzeentch had done, he only hoped his old companion was still holding on.
Mortarion suddenly stopped. Lost in thought, Malcador nearly walked straight into those grotesque wings.
Mortarion spoke, "You should be more optimistic. I understand what these numbers signify, but it's not what we imagined."
"Stop being cryptic, Mortarion—since when did you learn to take pleasure in toying with others?"
Malcador frowned. Mortarion snorted coldly and resumed leading the way. He pushed open a heavy door and ushered Malcador into the observatory.
This was the Pale Lord's personal chamber. Above them arched a vast, transparent dome of glass. Countless stars gazed down from the heavens, and that glaring, immense rift stared back at them.
Mortarion walked over and stopped before a massive spherical observation device. He began adjusting it. The intricate instrument had fourteen sets of lenses that required calibration, and several small Death Guard were clinging to its structure.
"I do not require such instruments myself, Malcador." Mortarion's calm voice sounded out. Malcador forced a thin smile, naturally ignoring the jab.
After a long while, Mortarion finally straightened up and stepped aside from the eyepiece, watching Malcador and gesturing for him to take a look.
Malcador hurried forward. He leaned in and placed his eye to the lens. Under Mortarion's adjustments, it displayed the real-time tides of the Warp.
Ever since the Astronomican had gone dark, observing the Warp revealed nothing but chaos—and that blinding scar stretching across the galaxy.
But now, Malcador saw a star.
Surrounded by ominous blackness, it shimmered brilliantly. Pale frost and crimson hues cast a striking trace within the Warp.
That star trailed a luminous tail. Following the direction it pointed…
Where it intersected with the great rift… was—
Cadia.
Someone had shown them the way.
Malcador abruptly pulled back from the eyepiece. Mortarion stood beside him with arms crossed, looking almost pleased at the prospect of marching to war.
"I recognize that light… tell me, you damned old man, what dealings did I once have with the one who has helped us?"
Malcador's lips trembled slightly.
That was… that was…
"Fenris."
And—
"Magnus."
He exhaled sharply.
"…Well done."
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