=== Raxor ===
With Vulkan finally secured, the extraction became swift and efficient. Raxor never left his father's side as they lifted Vulkan onto the transport sled, his massive form hovering close, one gauntleted hand resting against the Primarch's arm as if afraid that the moment he let go, this too would be taken from him. Around them, Astartes and Imperium forces pulled back in disciplined waves, leaving behind only ruin and fire as the last resistance on Lah'mu was crushed beneath orbital guns and collapsing infrastructure. At Maximus' command, the withdrawal was total, no lingering engagements, no unnecessary heroics, just a clean severing of their presence as Thunderhawks screamed back toward the waiting battle barge in low orbit.
Inside the Thunderhawk, the noise faded into the steady, vibrating roar of engines, the cabin lit by dim lumen-strips that cast Vulkan's sleeping form in somber, reverent light. Raxor sat beside him, his bulk hunched inward in a way that looked almost unnatural for someone of his size, his eyes fixed on his father's face as if memorizing every line, every scar, every breath that proved this was real. He did not speak. He did not move. Even when the Thunderhawk jolted slightly as it docked with the battle barge, his posture remained unchanged, one hand resting near Vulkan's shoulder like a silent vow. For the first time since his creation, the fire that had always burned within him was muted, replaced by something heavier and more fragile.
They transferred Vulkan to a sealed, heavily guarded chamber deep within the barge, layers of void-shielding, warding, and medical equipment brought online in moments. Raxor followed every step, his presence looming over the medicae teams until it became clear that he had no intention of leaving. "No. I will stay here." he said simply, his voice low and immovable when Maximus suggested he get some rest. There was no argument after that.
Maximus studied him for a long moment, then nodded once, a commander recognizing a line that could not, and should not, be crossed. Sebastian, for all his fury, said nothing, merely inclining his head in grim agreement before turning away.
Maximus and Sebastian returned to the command center together, the vast chamber alive with holo-displays, tactical readouts. The image of Lah'mu rotated in the air between them, scarred and burning, sections of its surface already collapsing into molten ruin where orbital strikes had landed. Maximus folded his hands across his chest, his expression unreadable as he regarded it. "The question now," he said at last, his tone measured but heavy with consequence, "is what we do with it."
Sebastian did not hesitate. "Exterminatus," he replied flatly, turning toward Maximus. "They experimented on a Primarch. On Vulkan. That alone warrants it. Let the galaxy learn what happens when you lay hands on one of our Gene-fathers." His jaw tightened as he gestured toward the projection. "Lah'mu should burn until there's nothing left to remember."
Maximus remained silent for a moment longer, as he considered the ripples it would send outward. "Perhaps," he said finally, his voice calm but firm. "But we should consult with the Grand Regent."
The hologram of Lah'mu continued its slow, indifferent rotation between them, a world balanced on the edge of absolute annihilation.
=== Nira ===
Nira walked the quiet corridors of the battle barge with Sanguinius at her side, the thunder of battle now far behind them, replaced by the low, constant heartbeat of the ship as it hung above Lah'mu. Neither of them spoke. There was no need to.
The Great Angel's presence was different now, as if every fragment of his being had oriented itself toward the chamber ahead. Nira felt it even without looking at him, a gravitational pull of blood and memory, of bonds older than empires.
The doors to the secure chamber parted with a soft hiss, revealing Vulkan's resting place bathed in subdued light. Raxor sat beside the slab, massive shoulders slightly hunched. The moment Sanguinius fully manifested, light seemed to gather around him as his form stabilized, Raxor was on his feet, the motion abrupt and reverent. He dropped to one knee with a heavy clang of ceramite, head bowed. "My lord," he said, voice thick with awe, "forgive me, I will leave you to my father. I should not intrude."
Sanguinius turned toward him, wings shifting subtly as he smiled, the expression warm and achingly human despite the divinity of his form. "Easy, son of Vulkan," he said gently. "You honor him enough already. And I have no need of privacy." His gaze flicked briefly to the sleeping Primarch before returning to Raxor. "I only wished to see my brother… after ten thousand years. Stay. He would not want you sent away."
Raxor hesitated, every instinct screaming to obey, to withdraw, to make himself small in the presence of a Primarch, but something in Sanguinius' tone rooted him in place. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose, remaining close to Vulkan's side as if distance itself were a betrayal.
Sanguinius moved around the slab, coming to Vulkan's left, and lowered himself to one knee with a grace that made the motion feel ceremonial. For a long moment he simply looked at him, eyes tracing familiar lines as though confirming that this was real, that the brother he had missed for millennia lay here, breathing. Then he reached out and ran a gentle hand over Vulkan's bald head, his touch reverent, almost tender. "You always hated lying still," Sanguinius murmured softly. "Even when wounded."
The sound of Raxor's voice broke the quiet, hesitant but earnest. "My lord… if I may," he said, glancing between Sanguinius and Vulkan. "Tell me what he was like. I… I have served him my entire life, but this is the first time I have ever truly been in his presence."
Sanguinius' smile widened, and he leaned back slightly, eyes lifting to include both Raxor and Nira. "Vulkan," he said, as if tasting the name, "was the most compassionate of us. Where others saw duty, he saw people. Where others hardened themselves, he chose to endure the pain so others would not have to." His gaze softened further as he looked back down at his brother. "He loved humanity not as an abstract ideal, but as individuals, flawed, frightened, resilient. He believed strength meant protecting the weak, even when it cost him dearly. And he paid that cost again and again without complaint."
He turned then, meeting Raxor's eyes directly. "You carry that same fire," Sanguinius said, his voice firm with certainty. "Everything I have seen of you in this strange universe… the way you fight, the way you protect, the way you refuse to abandon compassion even when rage would be easier, it would make him proud. More than proud."
The words struck Raxor like a physical blow. His shoulders trembled, and he bowed his head, one gauntleted fist pressing to his chest as if to steady his breathing. "I only tried to do what I thought he would want," he said quietly. "I never knew if it was enough."
Sanguinius' expression softened further. "It was," he replied without hesitation. "It is. He would be so proud of you."
Raxor remained where he was for a long moment after Sanguinius' words, head still bowed, breath slow and heavy as if he were steadying something deep inside himself. He looked between Sanguinius and Nira, jaw tightening, and then spoke, his voice low but unwavering.
"My lord… there is something I need to tell you both," he said. "Something I should have spoken of sooner."
Sanguinius inclined his head slightly, his expression attentive. Raxor drew in a breath and began to explain, of Padmé Amidala, of the strange, suffocating dreams, and of the visions that returned to him night after night like a warning etched into his soul. He spoke of a lava-scoured world and skies filled with ash, of himself standing between Padmé and the boy Nira knew as Anakin Skywalker, his only purpose was to keep her out of his reach.
"I believe," Raxor said carefully, "that Padmé is carrying more than just a child. I believe… She may be carrying some fragment of the Emperor himself. His soul."
The chamber fell silent in the wake of his words, the hum of machinery suddenly far too loud. Nira turned sharply toward him, her eyes widening. "Raxor," she said, disbelief threading through her voice, "that's—"
But Sanguinius raised a hand, and she stopped. The Great Angel had gone utterly still, his wings no longer shifting, his gaze distant as though he were looking far beyond the walls of the chamber. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of ancient memory.
"There may be truth in this. When the Emperor went about the Warp, collecting the fragments of my Soul, I learned many things." Sanguinius said quietly. "Long before this age… before the Emperor faced Horus aboard the Vengeful Spirit… he made a choice."
Both Raxor and Nira turned fully toward him now as Sanguinius continued, his words measured, almost reverent. "He knew that if he faced Horus as he was, he would hesitate. That compassion would stay his hand. That mercy and love would make him falter when the final blow had to be struck." His eyes darkened. "So he cut those things from himself. He tore away his compassion, his hope, his mercy… and yes, his love."
Nira felt her breath catch as Sanguinius went on. "He cast those fragments of his soul into the warp, believing them a weakness he could not afford. What became of them after that was never known."
He turned then, fixing Raxor with a piercing look. "If Padmé truly carries something extraordinary within her," Sanguinius said, "it is not impossible that these fragments found their way into new life. Children born of what the Emperor once was, and could no longer be."
Nira cut in. "If that's even a possibility, shouldn't we bring her here? To the Imperium? We could protect her. Help her. No one else would even know what they're dealing with."
Sanguinius exhaled slowly. "It may indeed be safer," he admitted. His gaze flicked back to Raxor. "Have you told your brothers?"
Raxor shook his head. "No. Vulkan… finding him… it consumed everything. I meant to, but—"
"I understand," Sanguinius said gently. "Still, Maximus and Sebastian should know. This concerns all of us."
Raxor nodded once, decisively. "I'll tell them now." He cast one last look at Vulkan, at Sanguinius, then turned and strode from the chamber.
The doors slid shut behind him, leaving Nira and Sanguinius alone once more. For a moment, neither spoke. Nira's gaze drifted to Vulkan, then to the place where Raxor had stood, before finally settling on Sanguinius. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she wrestled with herself, then she drew in a breath and spoke.
"Sanguinius," she said quietly.
He looked down at her, expression open and patient.
"I… I owe you an apology," she said, the words coming more easily once spoken aloud. "I knew I was being stubborn. I knew it even while I was doing it." A faint, rueful huff of breath escaped her. "I just didn't want to admit I was wrong."
A small smile touched Sanguinius' lips, softening his features. "You said many things," he replied calmly. "Some true. Some… less so."
He turned fully toward her then and extended one massive hand. After the briefest hesitation, Nira reached out and took one of his enormous fingers, her grip small but steady.
"You were right about one thing," Sanguinius continued, his voice warm. "I do see you as a daughter. And I would not have you think that bond so fragile it cannot survive anger, or pride, or an apology long delayed."
Nira swallowed, her throat tight. "Thank you," she whispered.
Sanguinius inclined his head. "Of course little one."
===
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