Segmentum Ultima, Prospero.
At the Pyramid of Photep in Tizca, Magnus walked onto the balcony.
He leaned on the railing, his elbows supporting him. The cool sea breeze ruffled his hair.
He looked down at the five perfect hillocks, distributed in golden ratio across the rolling park. The citizens and soldiers of Tizca, as always, practiced their Taijiquan to calm their minds.
They were unaware of the doom about to befall them.
The entire City of Light was about to be destroyed, because of his crime.
His gaze swept over the pyramids of the various cults. Inside the polarizing crystals, flames seemed to dance.
He had seen such visions while traveling the Great Ocean. Now he understood their meaning.
"All will return to dust."
Magnus's voice echoed with sorrow. A voice sounded from behind.
"Not necessarily."
Magnus turned. He saw a shadow flickering on a bronze mirror.
The shadow changed with each passing moment: angry, mocking, arrogant, fickle.
All the eyes, however, regarded him with sly amusement.
"Is destroying me the purpose of your bargain with me?"
"Destroy? Never!" the shadow cried.
"Magnus, you have always been my first choice!"
"First choice for what?" Magnus asked.
"To unleash the eternal chaos of destruction and rebirth."
"To create an endless cycle of creation and annihilation, repeating forever without beginning or end."
"You were always the first choice. Horus is merely the inferior alternative."
"There were many such choices. Nareth was also one."
Magnus shook his head. "Nareth would not make the same mistake I did."
"I... was... too confident."
"Yes. By the time I transformed your soul, you had already become too powerful, forcing me to choose another target." The shadow's smile was affectionate.
"But I always knew that, eventually, you would belong to me. When suspicion fell upon you and your sons, I wove corruption elsewhere."
"I was delighted to watch the blindly confident one ignite the spark that would become a raging inferno."
"What are you?" Magnus walked into the room.
"You know what I am." The eyes in the mirror coalesced, spinning and shifting, finally forming a great serpent with many-colored eyes and bright plumage.
Magnus recognized it. He had seen it in the mountains of Ahgos.
He had killed it. But clearly, he had not.
"I once called myself Choronzon, the Daemon of Dispersion, the Dweller in the Abyss. But those are just hollow labels given to me by mortals."
"The moment they speak them, the name is already obsolete."
"I have existed since the beginning of time, and I have witnessed the end. Names are meaningless, for I am everything, and I am nothing."
It chuckled softly. "In the impoverished vocabulary of your young race, I should be called a god."
"It was you who saved my Legion," Magnus said.
"Saved? I merely postponed their end." The shadow said.
"Now, that gift has come due."
"No! Please, I beg you!"
"The time I granted your sons was not free. You understood that when you accepted my gift."
"When you cried out into the depths of the Great Ocean, seeking a way to save your sons, you offered your soul to save them. Now is the time to fulfill that promise."
"Then take me. Spare my sons and allow them to continue serving the Emperor." Magnus said.
"You are all drinking poison to quench your thirst." The shadow mocked.
"Why do you want them to serve a man who betrays you?"
"He showed you endless mysteries, then forbade you from touching them."
"What kind of father opens a door and commands his son not to enter?"
"He only intended to use your body to spare himself from destruction. You have seen his intentions."
The image in the mirror changed again. Magnus saw the Golden Throne, wreathed in arcing electricity.
A howling corpse sat upon it, its powerful form charred and hideous.
"The Emperor wants to permanently imprison you upon it, to suffer eternally, to satisfy His own desires."
Magnus averted his gaze. The shadow continued to speak, drawing his mind into the Great Ocean.
"You have already seen the truth of the end. Your nemesis and his Wolves have already set sail."
Magnus closed his eyes, feeling the oncoming tide.
His eye snapped open. A pillar of searing flame erupted, a million times more powerful than the flames of the Pyrae Pyramid. Molten glass rained down.
Wood and paper in the room burned to ash, except for the Book of Magnus.
The bronze mirror evaporated. The reflection vanished.
Outside the door, the newly rotated Magister Templi of the Athanaeans Cult was about to burst in.
Suddenly, his left arm was seized.
Uthizzar turned. "Hathor."
"I would advise against entering now." Hathor the "Dreamwalker" said, his eyes deep. He could feel a mysterious power receding, and a churning storm of emotions.
"I must know what happened to our father." Uthizzar said.
Hathor's palm projected bio-energy. Uthizzar's body stiffened, as if petrified.
After a dozen seconds, Uthizzar's body shuddered, and Magnus's voice came from within.
"Hathor, Uthizzar, come in."
Hathor released Uthizzar, who glared at him before quickly entering.
Uthizzar surveyed the devastated floor, looking at Magnus with concern. "Father."
Magnus had ascended to the highest level of his Enumeration, shielding his mind, facing the Magister Templi of the Athanaeans Cult.
He said calmly, "I am fine. Just a small accident during a spell."
Hathor followed him in. With his "Spectator's" perspective, he studied the one-eyed giant.
His eye shifted from blue to red to grey, finally settling on black.
Something was wrong. Hathor immediately recalled the Black Emperor's prophecy.
'Father has seen Prospero's destruction. Is he hiding it from us?'
He suppressed a thousand roiling thoughts and stated his purpose.
"Father, your highest-authority rune-command ordered four fleets to leave Prospero's orbit."
"Why?" Uthizzar asked, confused.
"We will have no defenses. We cannot continue the Great Crusade."
'There will be no future.' Magnus thought.
"Before we resume our journey, there are many mysteries we must master. This will take a considerable time."
Hathor studied Magnus, his mutable eye no longer flickering, but a hint of ominous intent in its grey-black depths.
He flickered, fabricating a lie.
"Axandria IV is our greatest achievement. It has recently been attacked by Aeldari raiders. It needs the fleet's strength."
'The Thousand Sons and I should leave something for the Imperium.' Magnus nodded.
"Order the fleets led by the two flagships, the Photep and the Son of Prospero, to proceed to Axandria IV."
Hathor suppressed a smile. He had just brought over half the fleet's strength under his control.
Combined with the previous fleets and the power of the Order of Ruin, nearly sixty percent of the fleet would be under his command.
"Please authorize it."
Three days later, at Tizca's spaceport.
Trucks, supply vehicles, baggage carts, and water tankers moved through the port, their horns blaring.
Loaders, stevedores, and servitors worked tirelessly. For the past four days, their workload had doubled daily.
Lemuel Gaumont walked among the crowd. The aura-reader could see the pale grey tension in the air.
Port supervisors meticulously checked passes and identification papers. Spire Guards in red coats patrolled constantly.
His friend, Camille Shivani, wore a low-cut black dress, trimmed with black lace at the collar, cuffs, and hem.
Grief filled them both. Their other friend, the powerful diviner Callista Orestes, had been ruthlessly used by the Thousand Sons as a disposable asset, her life drained to foresee the future.
Lemuel hadn't expected his teacher, Ahriman, to coldly issue the order, ignoring their pleas.
His other teacher, Hathor, had spoken up for her, but Ahriman had the Primarch's authority. Even the Chief Librarian couldn't override it.
They had been roughly pulled away from Orestes, catching a glimpse of the world's destruction.
They resolved to leave this place of sorrow, and found Mahavastu Kallimakus, who also sensed danger.
Behind them, nine servitors carried heavy crates, stuffed with the countless secret tomes, records, and articles Kallimakus had written as Magnus's private scribe.
Hathor Maat stood in the shadows, his crimson-armored form cloaked in a "Psychic Invisibility" that made him subconsciously ignored by all.
He watched Gaumont and the others reach the passenger terminal entrance. Blue-robed officials verified identities one by one.
Lemuel tore a page from his notebook, handing it to an official.
He projected intense confidence into the official's aura. It was time to test what he had learned from Ahriman and Hathor.
"Lord Asoka Bindusara and Lady Kumaradevi Chandra will be boarding the Sepaya Serene."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I am their humble servant. My masters are accustomed to Prospero's luxury. If we are not assigned a luxury shuttle, no one will be happy."
The official frowned, studying the travel permit. Lemuel sensed his thoughts wavering, and reinforced his manipulation of the aura.
The official looked away from the document, typing the names into his datapad.
"I don't see your name here."
"Please, check again." Lemuel intensified the psychic push, letting his aura overwhelm the official's doubts.
The official nodded, signaling to the Spire Guards.
They inspected the crates, then gave Lemuel three berthing passes, each stamped with an eye symbol.
Hathor nodded, satisfied. He walked towards the port's control room.
He entered a string of runes at the console. Cold mist billowed, and the door slid open.
He stepped inside. The duty officers looked up, seeing him for the first time.
"Lord Maat."
Hathor smiled, walking into the room amidst their respectful greetings.
He reached the main console, staring at the holographic display. The Gloriana-class battleship Photep and the battleship Son of Prospero were heading for one Mandeville point; the battleships Ankhtow and Chimeru were heading for the other.
They were surrounded by strike cruisers and escort ships.
Hathor watched the ships leave the psychic array's detection range, then walked back to the Pavoni Pyramid, a smile on his face.
He activated the "Euclidean Runes," isolating the Warp, and prayed to the Black Emperor.
Moments later, black mist swallowed him, bringing him to the mystic realm.
"My Lord, following Your command, I organized the psychic artisans to mine all the psi crystals from the Reflecting Cave and load them onto Your Legion's cruiser."
"Lemuel Gaumont and his companions have successfully left Prospero."
"I stopped Uthizzar from going in. I also sent the fleets led by the Photep and the Son of Prospero to Axandria IV."
Nareth's eyes lit up. 'Hathor is quite capable. It was worth making him Chief Librarian and he actually secured the Gloriana-class battleship and most of the Thousand Sons' fleet.'
'Uthizzar.'
"You saved Uthizzar's life." Nareth said, drawing from his memory.
"Your instincts were correct. Magnus was in a state of psychic turmoil. His mind was utterly unguarded."
"Uthizzar is the most accomplished mind-reader among the Thousand Sons, second only to you. He would have discovered the truth Magnus was concealing: the Wolves are coming."
"Magnus was willing to accept punishment, but Uthizzar was not willing to see Prospero destroyed. To stop him, the father would have killed his son."
A chill went through Hathor. 'Thank goodness for my Lord's gift. If I had gone in with Uthizzar, I would be dead too.'
Nareth thought of the Photep, which had vanished after the Heresy. Magnus's flagship had become the Vengeance of Tizca.
'Magnus, you're not losing out either. At least you won't have to live with the guilt forever.'
He knew Magnus had lived in guilt and pain after killing Uthizzar.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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