Webway, Ilmarin
518.M32
Sanguinius
From the Webway, he watched as the Chapters of his former Legion gathered on Baal one by one over the past few months. With palpable pain, he watched how few remained of the once-great and glorious Legion.
Even though many of his sons had strayed from his teachings and principles, he couldn't blame them entirely, not when Black Rage and Red Thirst were the primary culprits of this state of affairs. Guilliman's reformation of the Legions into Chapters hadn't helped either. He understood the reasoning behind his brother's actions, but it didn't change the fact that his Legion had lost its identity soon after losing his father.
Soon… he would heal his sons, or at least weaken the curses that plagued them enough so that they no longer loomed over them like an executioner's axe. However, for now, he had no intention of directly interfering with the Chapters' activities. He didn't want to alert the Imperium, and above all, the Chaos gods.
He wasn't strong enough to emerge from the shadows and directly confront the Ruinous Powers, especially since the fact that they knew of his survival was enough. Now they likely treated him as a mere curiosity, a mystery, but not a serious threat.
The current situation suited them best. They sought not victory, but ubiquitous chaos. From it they drew strength, so what the Chaos gods truly desired was eternal, perpetual war, full of blood, unforeseen changes, hideous acts of violence, and decay.
So Sangunius, although with a heavy heart, had to be patient and let them believe that everything was going according to their plans, only to strike Chaos forces when they least expected it.
His mentors and allies had waited patiently for him for millions of years, so what were a few millennia in comparison?
He also couldn't fully reveal himself to his sons, for their loyalty was uncertain. None of them had fought alongside him or known him personally, for they didn't even exist yet. Would their loyalty to him outweigh their loyalty to the Imperium?
He couldn't say, and all it would take was one Astartes for the Imperium to learn of his existence. And that was something he preferred to avoid for now. For the Imperium's propaganda machine was truly terrifying, so the last thing he wanted was to destroy his image in the eyes of the Imperium's citizens. Better to let the Ecclesiarchy paint his image as the Emperor's greatest son and let countless Imperium citizens revere him. In this grimdark universe… faith, well used, was a powerful tool.
He had to be patient and methodical, building his strength and, above all, seizing control of the Webway… and the Drukhari… they stood in his way. If he wants to succeed, he must destroy Commoragh; further wars and struggles would be incomparably easier. But that was a plan for the future.
In any case, he let his sons believe he survived the Warp, but there is no return for him to the Materium and Imperium. Let them treat him for now as a spiritual guardian, a guardian angel.
When the time comes for his return, he will allow them to choose which side they will take; the same goes for the White Scars and other former Legions, should any of his brothers join their cause.
And those of his sons who in death choose to serve him will be granted this honour. He continued to silently watch the last Flesh Territor ship land on the planet. Thus, all the successor Chapters gathered on the planet.
Blood Angels, except for two ships that were lost in the Warp, but he intended to capture them after the ritual was completed, as he had other plans for them.
He felt a touch on his shoulder and tore his mind away from Baal, then opened his eyes to see Jaghatai's calm face.
"Mind said to inform you that the ritual is ready, and once all the Chapters arrive, we can begin." His brother spoke, his hand clenching tighter on his shoulder in a gesture of support. Jaghatai knew exactly what he was going through at that moment.
The two entered the prepared chamber, where three Old Ones and Orain were already present.
"What am I to do?" Sanguinius asked, turning to Mind.
"Practically nothing. "You just need to lie down on the altar," his mentor replied. "I'll take care of the rest. The whole process is simply time-consuming and could take several hours."
"And that's all?" he asked with slight disbelief, especially since she had previously spoken of the ritual as something more complicated.
He was met only by a reassuring silence.
He turned to Jaghatai. "Brother, see to locating Sanguinium Ignis and bring Valefor and his company to me. At least these sons of mine will be able to meet with me in person."
"What about the other ship? The one Seeker mentioned?" Khan asked, nodding slightly at the aforementioned Old One.
Sangunius shook his head slightly. "That's too delicate a subject. I'll personally go after them after the ritual is complete. They've wandered the Immaterium for hundreds of years. Their state of mind is unknown. But they are my sons, and my responsibility."
With these words, he ascended the altar.
Immaterium
518.M32???
Raldoron
He slowly walked across the deck of Sorrow. The Battleship's best days were long behind him, and in truth, he was barely holding on. Countless years of wandering through the Warp had not spared him, nor had the crew themselves, but unlike the ship, they were fuelled by hope, albeit a fading one. Dreams and visions, however uncertain and vague.
Amid flickering lights and terrifying sounds ripping through the barely holding Gellar Field, he entered a massive oval chamber filled with all manner of equipment and, above all, many of his armoured brothers from his Legion. They all turned to look at him as one, their faces expressing the same weariness that plagued him, their eyes filled with the same desperation that drove him forward.
He moved toward the centre of the room, where the highest-ranking Astartes aboard the ship were gathered around a massive table. Men he had fought alongside on countless battlefields throughout the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, following their great father, and even later, after the fragmentation of their Legion into Chapters.
He fixed his gaze on Azkaellon, the man who had ultimately landed them in this situation. Well, at least the visions that were coming to him. His brother's blue eyes were markedly different from the others.
Where others were determined, Azkaellon burnt with absolute fanaticism, even after all the hardships they had endured in the Warp. There had never been, and there likely would never be, a son more devoted to their father than the founder and commander of the Sanguinar Guard, the personal guards of Sanguinius himself.
"Brothers, we must determine what to do next," he at last spoke, his voice weaker than usual but still brimming with steel. The warp was slowly sapping their strength and will, but they were not only Astartes, but above all, they were sons of Sanguinius. They didn't break easily.
"We don't even know how long we've been here, how much time we've spent searching for our father's indomitable soul. What should we do? Where should we turn? For this blind searching through the Warp is foolish. The Imperium may cease to exist before we find him in this way."
Azkaellon jumped to his feet angrily, "You can't hear yourself, brother! Were we to abandon our mission to find our father!? For what!? Return to the Imperium!? Like cowards!? Like traitors!? I live for Sanguinius... I fight only for him... I serve only him!" His voice echoed deeply off the chamber walls.
Raldoron slammed his armoured fist on the table, creating a delicate network of cracks in the incredibly durable ceramite. However, it wasn't a gesture of anger but rather a desire to draw attention. He knew his brother too well and for too long to be drawn into a needless argument.
Azkaellon continued to glare at him but fell silent, breathing heavily.
"I don't propose surrender." Raldoron finally spoke, then sighed heavily. "Brother", he turned to Azkaellon, "you seem to forget that we also want to find our father and are just as determined. I merely propose that we try to find another method. A more effective one."
Silence fell between them. Over hundred Astartes in the room fell silent, considering his words thoughtfully; even Azkaellon seemed to calm down.
"So what do you propose, Raldoron?" The silence was broken by the voice of Nassir Amit, former Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers. And the question he asked hung in the air like an invisible blade.
Raldoron slowly scanned the group before settling his gaze on Baros. The former Chief Librarian of the Flesh Tearers stood slightly to the side, deep in thought.
"Baros, if you could explain your idea to our brothers," he said, causing each Astartes' gaze to fall on the powerful psyker.
He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground. However, when he spoke, his voice, low and unusual, echoed strangely through the chamber.
"Searching for our father this way, we might spend another 10,000 years and not find him. Perhaps, in reality, that much has already passed."
"However, if our true goal is to find his soul and save it, we cannot delay any longer... We must take the risk. Even at the cost of death, or worse."
"Our duty is to live, fight, and die for Sanguinius!" Azkaellon drawled, burning with the desire to find their Primarch.
Sargan Varsaris, first Chapter Master of the Angels Vermillion and formerly Praetor of the IX Legion, who had little sympathy for Azkaellon, asked provocatively, "I thought we were supposed to do all this for the Emperor?"
But all he received was an angry glare, not only from the Commander of the Sanguinary Guard but also from many of the other Astartes present in the room.
In their Legion, loyalty to their father surpassed that to the Imperium and the Emperor. It was Sanguinius who had finally transformed the bloodthirsty, brutal beasts into an honourable and virtuous Legion. Only later would his death transform some of them into even more brutal engines of rage and destruction.
"I will delve deeper into the Immaterium in search of our father, farther than I have ever dared to venture before," Baros interjected, his words having the desired effect.
Any lingering arguments ceased, for each of them realised what this meant and the risks it carried.
"The risk is too great. There's a greater chance that instead of finding him, they'll find something worse. "And therefore us," Andras spoke from his position against the chamber wall. The former High Chaplain of the Flesh Tearers spoke aloud what everyone was thinking at that moment.
Even Raldoron himself felt this was pure madness. But it was madness they had to endure. They couldn't spend decades, or even centuries, searching blindly for Sanguinius, guided by Azkaellon's imprecise dreams and visions.
A heated argument erupted among the Astartes, and instead of calming them down, he let them speak. It was too important a decision to make lightly, especially with the elite of their former Legion gathered on the ship.
Suddenly, his attention was drawn to Baros, who was gripping the wall with one hand for support. His breathing suddenly became laboured, and as he turned his face slightly, Raldoron saw blood trickling from his eyes, mouth, and nose.
Something was very wrong. He scrambled to his feet and was at his brother's side in a flash, gripping him firmly and supporting him. The others, too, had noticed something wrong and began to gather around them.
"What's happening, Baros?" he asked, his voice taut as a string.
"He... he's coming. He found us," the psyker whispered.
"Who? Who's coming? Who are you talking about, brother?"
Baros's bloodshot eyes were filled with a fear long absent. He gripped Radoron's arm tightly and rasped a single name, a terrifying name.
"Ka'Bandha."