The galaxy was torn asunder.
Just as the battle within the Cadian Gate warzone reached its climax—when the Chaos Space Marine fleets led by the Black Legion suffered catastrophic losses, the immortal flagship Vengeful Spirit fell, and Warmaster Ezekyle Abaddon perished—when Chaos warlords fell one after another in the Imperium's greatest victory, a sudden Warp Storm erupted across the Cadian System.
From the depths of the Eye of Terror, a reality-shattering, supernatural roar tore through the veil between the material universe and the Warp.
That voice resonated through the Eye—at times sorrowful as song, at times dreadful as thunder. None could tell whether it was real or illusion.
Then came the storm—an endless deluge of galactic thunderbolts, rending space and time. The veil exploded outward, and even the dimensional walls of astronomical scale were pierced with ease. Howling rifts opened, devouring the stars.
A terrifying power, without warning, revealed to the material universe the might of the heavens beyond the heavens. All who witnessed the cosmic rupture within the Eye of Terror trembled before the fleeting glimpse of its apocalyptic grandeur.
The Imperial garrison on Cadia bore witness to the birth of a rift so vast it split the galaxy in two.
No one was prepared for the storm.
Bands of dim yellow and violet-red light filled the galactic veil, reflecting off faces and war-torn armor plating. The shattered hulls of ships gleamed beneath the kaleidoscopic glow.
Space itself twisted. Eternal gloom merged with radiant brilliance. The colors shimmered like phantoms, forming an astronomical spectacle beyond the imagination of the maddest abstract artist.
The Great Horror had come.
Warp travel was finished—completely.
Astropathic communication between Choir Telepaths was likely gone as well, and even the Navigators screamed in agony. The Astronomican's sacred light from Holy Terra dimmed and flickered.
The Imperial Navy, along with Mechanicus and Ecclesiarchy reinforcement fleets—those not yet caught in the Warp storm—restrained their fury and frustration as they watched the heretic fleets retreat in disarray, temporarily leaderless and uncoordinated.
"Admiral! Let us charge again!"
"Those heretic dogs invading Cadia—barely one in ten remains! The rest are crippled flagships! If they repair, they'll threaten humanity once more! We cannot allow them to flee! It would disgrace the Emperor's light!"
"Yes, Admiral! We can't let them go! Send in my cruiser group! We'll ram their battleships if we must! To die gloriously before the Golden Throne would be worth it!"
Aboard a massive, battle-scarred Imperial warship—so damaged its class was unrecognizable—the bridge crew's fury burned bright. Even the shadow of death could not temper their hatred of the traitors.
If death was certain, they would at least take some heretics with them.
After a brief silence, the fleet's vox channels erupted once more, filled with requests to engage.
"Denied! I order you—none shall act without command!"
Bang!
A red-trimmed admiral's cap fell from the metal table. The Imperial Admiral, a man of high rank, pulled a data cable from his temple socket, his face twisted with pain and frustration. Golden epaulettes gleamed upon his shoulders as his hand rested on the hilt of a masterwork dueling sword.
He could almost see the wretched heretics jeering, screaming their blasphemous laughter.
If he could, he would pilot a torpedo himself into their fleet—but duty forbade it. As an officer, he could not waste the dwindling lives and ships of his command.
Cadia had not fallen—but the Chaos traitors' true goal had been achieved. The tidal surge erupting from the Eye of Terror had breached the Cadian Gate. The veil of reality here was weakening rapidly.
The Astronomican's light was fading, shrouded. To pursue the traitors into the raging Warp storm would be suicide. The Warp's daemons could come to their allies' aid at any time. Entering would mean total loss.
Anywhere else—even the Maelstrom—the Admiral would have risked everything. But not here. Not in this pit of Chaos.
More importantly—had they not seen the Warp transition outlet still spewing forth unknown friendly vessels? Their very arrival meant Cadia was, for the moment, safe.
This vast, mysterious fleet—bearing the ancient insignias of Space Marine Legions from the Great Crusade era, recorded only in the most classified data vaults—was unlike anything in the Imperium's records. Yet none of their keel identification codes matched with the Mechanicus registry.
Worse still, most bore the sigils of Traitor Legions! And the only emblem not belonging to a traitor line—a pair of crossed gauntlets—was one the admiral did not even recognize…
Conflicted emotions warred within him—frustration, confusion, and dread—as silence blanketed the bridge. Every eye was fixed upon the green-lit auspex screen.
The ghostly blips representing the strange fleet flared with blinding intensity—so massive that, compared to them, both the Cadian Navy and the retreating heretic flotilla looked like mere motes of dust. Even his flagship was nothing beside them.
Beep—boop…
With each scan, the auspex emitted its low hums, and with every pulse, the admiral's heart tightened, that ominous green glow flickering across his face.
"Transmit again to the Magi—request confirmation of their keel identification."
Beside the admiral stood three pale, thoughtless husks—servitors seated in a nest of cables. Tubes pierced their eye sockets and mouths. Their servo-hands scratched ragged Low Gothic script onto pink communication slates.
Moments later, the reply from the Mechanicus fleet came through.
"Unable to identify target keel codes. Without exception—all unverified, all unrecognized…" Reading the highlighted words, the admiral shut his eyes, his face drawn with gravity.
"What… are they? What in the Emperor's name has happened over Cadia?" he muttered under his breath.
Had it been only the great vessels—the battleships and grand cruisers, massive beyond comprehension—he might have accepted it. Such ships, after all, were beyond even the forges of Mars, Yomir VIII, or Lucius to construct today; many technologies were long lost.
But the smaller ships—the destroyers, the escorts—none of them could be identified either. That was far beyond coincidence.
And in the galaxy, coincidence was the most dangerous thing of all.
Then there was the projection emitted from that colossal warship bearing the Luna Wolves insignia… the image of a towering giant, claws gleaming crimson, eyes burning with scarlet light beneath a wolf-helmed visage, a massive wolf pelt draped across his shoulders… Horus?
His thoughts tangled into a storm.
Could this be the scheme of that being within the Warp?
"Report!" a naval adjutant called out as he approached.
"Speak."
"Admiral, the Cadian High Command has issued an order. Our forces are to be integrated under the unified command of the Punishers Expedition Fleet, Second Astartes Legion. Effective immediately, all departments, fleet registries, operational data, casualty reports, and supply manifests are to be submitted to their command authority."
"Furthermore, all commanding officers participating in the campaign are to report to the Cadian fortress of Kasr Kraf for a high council regarding post-rift operations to purge Chaos heresy."
"The order is signed by: Cadian Lord Castellan Ursakar E. Creed; Cadian Governor Marius Boroska; Imperial Guard General Attica; Space Wolves Great Wolf Owen Skybreak of the Iron Wolves Company, and Great Wolf Sven Bloodhowl of the Firehowl Company; Dark Angels Fourth Company Captain Kolathiel; Black Templars Marshal of the Crusade Fleet Marius Amarich; and the Canonesses Superior Eleanor and Genevieve of the Order of Our Martyred Lady."
Nearly every known Cadian command authority was represented.
Meeting the admiral's cold, unblinking gaze, the adjutant hesitated before adding, "Additionally—Second Legion Punishers Primarch and Expedition Fleet Commander: Budo.
And—Blood Angels Primarch: Sanguinius."
The admiral's head snapped upward instantly.
"Repeat that! A Primarch? Did you say Sanguinius?"
The fleet had been engulfed in a brutal void battle, once crushed beneath the Chaos armada's assault. With the planet below shrouded in blackened smoke and warp-fueled rituals disrupting communication, the Imperium's lines had been severed.
Only after the reversal of fortune—and the arrival of the mysterious Imperial fleet—had they pursued the retreating traitors with unrelenting fury.
As for what exactly had occurred on Cadia's surface… few among them truly knew.
The ships' extremely low level of automation and the total absence of AI servitors meant that communications within the Sacred Selene Empire's military could not be transmitted promptly.
The Archangel… did he not fall during the Horus Heresy?
Snatching the data-slate with trembling hands, the admiral's expression softened into disbelief. The scars on his face twisted as he read the command once more, struggling to accept it.
All those years celebrating the Feast of Sanguinius—had it been false?
"Admiral, how shall we respond?"
"...We go."
After a long silence, the words escaped his clenched teeth. "But we will not go unprepared. Double the loss reports before submission—I want to see what trick they plan. And set the fleet to full battle readiness."
As he spoke, his eyes fixed on the massive cluster of signals on the auspex display. They all knew that fleet was out there. He had no doubt it possessed the strength to annihilate them. The Cadian claims seemed too insane to believe…
But the allure of that madness was too strong to resist. He would see it with his own eyes.
"Remember—if I do not return, break through immediately."
Then—Vrrrnnnn—!
The entire ship trembled violently. He didn't need to ask why; instinctively, he looked up and understood.
It wasn't an attack. The unknown fleet hadn't fired. They were merely passing by.
Through the cathedral-like stained glass dome of the bridge, he saw it—an enormous steel mask in the shape of a skull, its emblem gleaming with radiant light amid the turbulent Warp tides. Its passing alone, with mass rivaling that of a planet, sent tidal forces ripping through their formation.
That celestial metallic fortress seemed fused with the fabric of the cosmos itself. From a massive fracture in its spherical body shone a blinding, stellar flame—
A living star.
Its organic, eye-like surface swept across the Cadian fleet with detached indifference, then moved on. The titanic, sphere-shaped fortress continued on its course—unstoppable—toward the Eye of Terror.
For a moment, every mind aboard froze. Thought itself ceased.
This was not about willpower. It was the gulf of existence.
As the iron colossus without the Chaos Eight-Pointed Star sailed past in silent majesty, the admiral noticed other fleets—World Eaters, Word Bearers, Death Guard, and countless others—following in its wake, all heading toward the daemon realms of the Eye.
And then—
CRRRRRR—KRAK-KRAK-KRAK!
From the rift that tore open the material universe, the dark shores of reality itself shook. The collision of collapsing voids grew ever more violent—tearing space-time, piercing dimensions. This time, it was not merely a Warp storm.
It was light and heat beyond imagining.
Those who believed they had escaped into the Eye's daemon realms—the remnants of the Word Bearers, fragments of the Black Legion, warbands of Khorne, Slaanesh, Nurgle, Alpha Legion, Night Lords, and countless other heretic fleets—were all reduced to dust as the expanding violet-red rift swept outward.
This time, the Gods of Chaos did not protect them.
Their screams, their prayers, their howls meant nothing. Countless twisted, malformed souls were devoured by the lingering power of Finality—harvested, consumed. The cries, the wails, the agony… defied description.
From the highest heavens, a glimpse of the magnificent figure revealed itself within the void.
Endless, layered streaks of light outlined a cold, radiant silhouette—an infernal mirage of infinite destruction. The light of constellations coiled within Her form; newborn stars pulsed between Her fingers, only to die in the next instant, becoming pure laws of annihilation.
Another rift opened.
But all who saw it knew—it was not a Warp rift.
A proud, majestic voice echoed in the depths of every soul.
Thunderous.
Go, My warriors.
Find it.
At any cost.
Even if you must annihilate the Dark Aeldari, destroy Commorragh, shatter the Webway itself—find it for Me!
Magnus, you too. Fulfill your destiny!
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