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Many years ago when I was 13 years old, this veteran warhammer 40k player let me borrow a one page short story about the Emperor fighting Horus during the Horus Heresy, on Horus' battle barge. I loved it so much, I decided to write an extended version of it to fill in all the holes my imagination was trying to fill. This is the short story, written over two nights of no sleep. The story changes perspective about midway through, it sometimes throws people off...
The feeling that could only be mistaken as that instant yet eternal moment of death overcomes them as they teleport to Horus battle barge. Darkness. Silence. No heartbeat, no breath, no feeling, just a vanishing echo of existence. But the process was ending before one could ever register it had even begun, their bodies materializing on the ship. Signs of life return to them as they are born again with a single breath-taking gasp, as if pulled naked from icy waters.
Terrible images begin to cascade into their eyes as the last atoms of their being come together and their vision focuses clear. For a blink they stand motionless trying to re-orient themselves with their environment. Their minds are assaulted psychically by tortured eternity-bound spirits held in the hell-ship as mad guardians. Some marines drop to the floor convulsing as their sanity flees them in screams, driven mad by a place where mortal men were never meant to travel.
Demonic voices pull constantly at their thoughts like the fading sirens song, attempting to lure away their sanity. Sanguinus extends his psyche to the minds of his men, calming their thoughts and focusing them to their mission. Hands slowly stop shaking and return to familiar grips on weapons. Pumping adrenaline and rapid pulses lower, the demons voices turn to almost inaudible whispers. Sanguinus examines his surroundings. The force had ported up in with almost a thousand and now only a hundred remain. The Terminators are not to be found among them, but out from the crowd of men come the familiar faces and golden trimmed armor of his bodyguard. Without order the rest of the marines are forming up into five man fire-teams. A lieutenant presents himself and speaks for them, We await your command Lord Sanguinius.
Sanguinius quickly looks over their surroundings. They stand in a vast room, its walls like the inside of a diseased beasts ribcage. Above, the ceiling rises into darkness, and the heavy thump of an unseen heart reverberates the moist nauseating air. A door of rotting flesh contracts and relaxes rhythmically at the far end of the cavity. The ship that once mirrored the splendor of the Seraphims Absolution is now an abomination warped by the twisted wills of evil gods.
There is only one obvious way to go at this point and Sanguinus motions towards it silently as he leads the way, the marines following without question. Their boots sink into putrid flesh, dark blood splashes with each step as they break through the decaying meat. They move quickly and with purpose, rapidly approaching the door. The beat of the heart begins to race. Sanguinus and his men slow and then come to a halt. They look up into the impenetrable darkness in fear. They know that their presence is known, or rather, that their presence has been felt.
The blood that covered the floor begins to rise unnoticed and previously unseen veins begin to bulge all around with the thick blood. The demonic voices that were ever-present intensify. They begin to speak to them personally, to curse them, to address every mans worst fears. Light fades and unnatural darkness surrounds them. Vision becomes limited to the narrow beams their rifle-mounted flashlights can manage. Without command they form circles back to back. Weapons are charged and bolts snap forward.
They stand, frozen in their defensive perimeter. The heart still beats rapidly. All else is silence. They wait for petrifying moments as the sound of a thousand smaller beats grows louder and louder from all sides. Bio-scanners and motion trackers go wild with readings from every direction. The inner blood-light of the living ship covers everything in a faint red hue. Sucking sounds come from all around as figures begin to form, rising as fleshy abominations out of the very stuff they walked on.
Veins uncoil like striking vipers and fasten themselves around throats and limbs, pulling men down into the living ship. Bones snap and men choke as the veins pulse larger with every beat, crushing those constricted to the rhythm of the heart. Screams and bolter fire sound hopelessly. Muzzle flashes illuminate faces in momentary portraits of terror. Sanguinus yells to run for the door and makes way, his bolter blasting emerging flesh creatures as they rise from the ground.
Some stay behind to help doomed comrades who are being pulled down, most disappear into the darkness after Sanguinus, towards a not so sure death. Warped vultures swoop down and snatch up those engaged in such heroic but ultimately futile efforts. They are carried away high up into the darkness, their screams and blood shower back down over their comrades. The ships immune system is actively attacking the intruders.
Squelched screams, crunching armor, and the sound of snapping bones echo in the ears of the fleeing Blood Angels. The door draws nearer and nearer. Bolters ring out and forms drop lifeless. Swarms of vulture creatures swoop down, kidnapping men from a chance at life. After the longest run of their lives they finally reach the door. Sanguinus is first. He cleaves the contracted door open. The lieutenant turns around and drops to a knee and begins laying down covering fire. Sanguinius is about to scream at him to run as he rushes marines through the door but the lieutenant is whisked away soundlessly into the dark within the space of a heartbeat by a flying demon. Sanguinius pushes the last marine through before he enters himself, cutting down a wave of creatures with his force sword and blasting diving beasts with his bolter.
They waste no time in their mission. A marine throws grenades through the door to keep their pursuers at bay as the others slam home fresh magazines. They pause in the darkness as they take notice to the ceasing of the heartbeat. Their eyes search for more enemy, but the unholy darkness is impenetrable. Sanguinius is not blind to what is about to happen and commands his men, Back to back now!
The heartbeat returns again, louder than before, and with it the room is filled with the familiar red glow. The marines can now see they are surrounded by thousands of misshapen demon forms filling the entire room shoulder to shoulder. No order is needed. The marines open fire on automatic and cut down the nearest few hundred as the monstrosities swarm their force. Magazines run dry quickly. The fighting becomes close, personal, and brutal, but with their Angel of Death at the front, the Blood Angels overcome and press on.
For what couldve been no longer than ten minutes they fight through the seemingly endless hordes of demons and warped humans. The warriors die one at a time until only Sanguinius and the remnants of his elite bodyguard remain. Their faces still stoic after everything they had gone through, their armor stained in blood and gore, lungs heaving, burning, from the exertions of hand-to-hand combat with numberless foes.
There at last they stand, before the final archway into Horus throne room. Sanguinius looks into the eyes of each of his remaining men in turn. In the beautiful golden eyes of their Primarch they can see the appreciation and pride he has in them, but also the request for them to go with him the last mile
For the Emperor, Sanguinius says. His men echo the words in a low voice and give a nod. Those words, though this time spoken as almost a whisper, carry more meaning now than ever before. They mean their very lives, and the manner of their deaths. They tighten their grips on the hilts of their swords and on the hafts of their axes and wait to be lead by their Primarch. Sanguinius takes the first cautious steps into the room, his men follow.
At the far end of the room sits Horus, looking out at the Earth below. The room is essentially two thick slabs of obsidian that jut out from the hull of the ship, making the ceiling and floor. Hundred foot panes of armored glass make up the walls around them. The view afforded is nothing less than spectacular. Pillars rise up all around, decorated with banners for all the Evil Powers, and burning torches that serve for lighting. Shadows play about like demons, and maybe, they are.
Horus does not acknowledge their presence even as their heavy armored steps near. Instead he watches his fleet continue to rain death upon the planet below, bright flashes illuminate the smoke that rises from burning cities, turning the atmosphere into a mass of turbulent dark clouds. His armor is decorated with markings from each of the Chaos powers, designs that threatened sanity cover every surface. The armor seems as if to almost come apart, barely containing the powerful form within. Sanguinius and his marines know fear, as Horus turns to them with dark red eyes.
The Emperor and his men had encountered the same reception. He still doesnt want to believe that Horus has allied himself with the dark Gods. How could he? The Emperor wonders. They had fought through room after room of numberless demons and beasts. Goat headed abominations, hoofed demons, and twisted versions of space marines flooded corridors and rooms. The enemy dead piled high as the Emperor and his men pressed on. They fought with fervor and heroism but one by one they too had died, until then, only the Emperor remained. Then and only then did the ships master allow him to be received into the presence of Horus.
Just as the Emperor closes the eyelids of his last fallen disciple and mouths silent appreciation for his life of service does the final archway to Horus present itself. Where nothing had once been, now stands an unholy gateway. A single pair of tears runs down the Emperors cheeks. His men had paid the price of his admission with their lives. He is filled with solemn pride in them, for they had known their last moments would be ones of despair and violence, but they would be last moments with their Emperor nonetheless. For them, that was enough.
He looks around at the butchered corpses of his marines mixed with those of beasts and horrors born of nightmares. He knows what he has come for. He knows what he must do to ensure that the slaughter here, below on the burning Earth, and far away in the cold depths of space, would have an end. He tosses his expended bolter aside with a weary hand. It clangs loudly on the metal floor, despite the thick layer of blood that carpets it. He steps forward. The course of humanitys future awaits the outcome of the next few minutes.
In a loose grip he holds his force sword, the tip of its blade carves the floor as he drags it along for a few meters before lifting it into a defensive position in front of him. He takes a deep breath. He is ready. He passes under the last archway and turns to look behind him one last time at what he will be fighting for, yet his fallen marines are not to be seen. Sorcery strong enough to cloud his god-like psyche are at work. He feels fear.
The large chamber is checkered with support columns, each holds four torches crackling with embers, their flickering flames making shadows all around. Horus stands with one side to the Emperor, and one to the Earth below. He stares down at his prize, awaiting the only man who stands between a galaxy ruled by Chaos with him as its supreme master.
The Emperor strides forth, his gaze never leaving the War-master. He feels the combined forces of the Chaos Gods focused into Horus being and hears their voices laughing in the Warp. He knows he faces them alone. He sees the traitor fleet as glittering dots through the glass. Megatons of death continue to fall onto the surface below. Bright lights flash across the continents with every soundless explosion. He knows that below the last heroic defenders of the Imperial palace are being overrun and slaughtered. Bright spheres of light swell and then disappear after intense exchanges of light between faint specs in the distance, telling the Emperor that the remnants of his once mighty fleets are now meeting their ends.
The Emperor walks out from amongst the shadows and rows of columns, close enough to see what the warping powers of Chaos have done to Horus. Slaughtered Blood Angels lie mangled and torn across the room, his heart is heavy with the terrible manner of their deaths. He notices the golden trim on their armor and realizes that they are Sanguinius bodyguard. Just then his eyes come to rest upon the broken wings of an Angel. He stares transfixed, his eyes in disbelief. He wants to refuse reality, but there lays Sanguinius body, lifeless. The torchlight reflects off a pool of his blood and the empty stare of his golden eyes. To Sanguinius he was a father, and to the Emperor, he was a son. His throat tightens and tears of anger and sadness well in his eyes, but all he can manage is to whisper, Sanguinius
Horus speaks with the voice of a God. Echoes of dark power resonate off the walls. My good brother Sanguinius I gave him a chance to sit at the right hand of a God, but alas, he chose to ally himself with the losing side. A fruitless sacrifice it was really its a pity I will have to destroy his legions, they would have served me well.
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Sanguinius and his men stood with weapons ready to strike. Horus turned to them finally and spoke, power filled the air. Sanguinius, my brother, what are you planning to do with those? Firelight gleamed from the edges of their blades.
Horus it is over. Stop this madness, Horus cut off Sanguinius.
Do you really expect to defeat me? Look out there, he motioned a hand behind him, my fleet surrounds Terra, the last bastions of resistance are falling to my armies. Why should you sacrifice you and your men in a hopeless cause under the banner of a pathetic leader? How dare you speak to me of madness, it is you and your misguided followers who are mad. Mad to challenge me. I could destroy you now, but you are my brother, so I will ask you only once to ally yourself with me. I promise you a seat at my right hand in the new order. You will be a prince among princes and hold powers you have never dreamt of. The Chaos powers have been bound to my will. They serve me now. I cannot be defeated, join me brother.
Sanguinius lowered his head for a moment. Horus began to think that he might indeed ally with him, that maybe his words had struck a cord. Sanguinius raised his eyes to meet Horus and laughed as if to a gullible child. Horus you are a fool. It is you who serve Chaos. You are only a pawn in their game. You are just too far deluded to see it. I would be a fool to even argue with you. You are no brother to me, just a traitor robbed of his sanity by his Chaos puppet masters.
Horus expression turned from indifference to outrage and he leapt at Sanguinius striking out with his lightning claw to render him to pieces. Sanguinius parried the first and sidestepped the next, his bodyguard was already in motion. They attempted to overwhelm Horus, but he moved with preternatural speed and fought with centuries of experience. Humanitys defenders soon realized they were outmatched. The already powerful warrior was nigh on invincible with the combined powers of Chaos behind his every strike and in every lightning quick movement.
Though the bodyguard gave their best effort it was simply too much for them. They were barely able to deflect all the blows meant for Sanguinius. They had no room between to fight back. All they could manage was to delay the inevitable. Horus, with his demonic speed, easily met every blade that rose in defense. They only got in his way as he relentlessly attacked Sanguinius, and they paid with their lives for it as energy enveloped claws plunged into their bodies instead of Sanguinius. One life at a time they delayed the same fate for their Primarch, until only he and Horus remained.
Sanguinius fought, without the aid of his bodyguard, but with every fiber of his being. His life was coming to an end. He knew it every time his blood spilled and his flesh tore. He knew that eventually he would not be able to continue because of his wounds. First he was taken out from under himself with a sweep of Horus leg. Then Horus drove his claws into his arm, severing muscles and tendons, Sanguinius screamed in anguish. He jumped back up, his sword still held tightly in his good arm, Horus took satisfaction in his will to fight to the end. He would make it a very painful end of course.
Sanguinius took to flight in desperation, trying to avoid the onslaught and maybe give him a chance. He swooped down with sword cocked back to strike and Horus jumped up an inhuman distance to roundhouse him in his face sending Sanguinius spinning down head over feet. He landed hard on his stomach and struggled to regain himself as quickly as possible. His wings shuddered with noticeable effort. His head still spun from the armored boot to his face. Blood trickled down his cheeks from hemorrhaging eyes. He saw Horus boots finally return from the floor as he hovers down to land in front of him. Horus stood and watched as Sanguinius rose to fight again.
Horus relented for a moment to let Sanguinius see the pleasure in his face. To let him know that his end was coming and that he would enjoy being the one to bring it. Sanguinius charged at Horus with sword raised, only to catch a clawed backhand that sent him flying into a pillar. Ribs snapped upon both impacts and their broken tips stabbed into his organs, he struggled to breath as blood begun to fill his lungs and leak from his heart. Horus laughed at the attempt. He grabbed Sanguinius collapsed body up around the throat with a clawed hand and pinned him up against the pillar. His feet hung far off the ground. Horus made a tight fist in the air, knuckles cracked loudly, and pummeled the features of Sanguinius angelic face. His cheeks caved in, his vision went black, his jaw and nose broke, and blood ran freely, spattering on his white wings from subsequent impacts.
Horus released him. Sanguinus dropped a meter to the floor. Horus paced around the dying angel. He mocked him and laughed as Sanguinius spit out blood and teeth, Sanguinius, the angel winged Primarch. The most handsome, most envied of Primarchs. Who would envy you now? Broken and defeated. I am not done with you yet though. Dont expect me to let you die so easily.
I die with honor! I die loyal to my Emperor! spat back Sanguinius with much effort, his shattered jaw burned in pain. He struggled to stand and meet Horus gaze, sweat and blood beaded out on his face. Horus became enraged at his inability to break the will of the loyal Primarch. He ran his claws across Sanguinius stomach hard, energy discharges like thunder. The armor rendered open wide and ropey intestines fell through. Sanguinius attempted to hold them in with his wounded hand and weakly swung his sword at Horus, who laughed as he struck the blade out of his grasp. It clanged across the floor and came to a halt a desperate distance away.
Sanguinius fell to one knee and then to another. His body refused to go on fighting any longer, all hope of victory had retreated. He was drowning in his own blood, his intestines were being held in by a failing hand, and he was bleeding out from a dozen deep wounds. He knew that it was his end. The terror fell away and he saw clarity and cause in why he must die. He reached for his purpose. His precognition had graced him one last time.
Horus leaned down to grab him by the hair and pulled his head back. He raised his claw high, ready to give him the fatal blow. Sanguinius, with the last of his energy in his last moment, struck at Horus heart with the tip of a blade hidden in his bloodstained robes. It only made a chink in the armor and failed to cause harm, but Horus was stunned for a moment at the gesture itself.
You pathetic insolent filth! Dare strike me! Horus yelled, driving his clawed gauntlet through Sanguinius body, his form convulsed a moment in shock around the multiple serrated blades. Lightning energy played about him, burning flesh scented the air. Horus withdrew the blades and picked up Sanguinius by the throat so he could strangle the last breath from his lungs. Sanguinius hands weakly clawed against Horus grip for just a moment, his wings shuddered in death spasms Then he went still. His wings became peaceful and his arms dropped to their sides.
Horus threw Sanguinius still corpse aside. He glanced down to see the small chink in his armor, then around to see a room full of slaughtered marines. He erupted into laughter.
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Sanguinius The Emperor looks to Horus and sees no remorse or any shred of humanity left behind his dark unfamiliar eyes.
Horus speaks, Sanguinius. My poor brother. My poor naïve dead brother. He threw away his chance. I now give you that same chance. Acknowledge me as the new Lord of Humanity and I will spare you.
The Emperors lip trembles and he remains silent, looking back down to his fallen son. Sanguinius, he promises himself, will not have died in vain. He yells with unbound fury as he charges at Horus with blade raised. Horus, with the combined powers of the Chaos Gods, meets the Emperors charge. The psychic energies of hateful evil and righteous anger discharge as their psycho-conductive weapons clash like the thunderbolts of Gods. The Lord of Humanity stands alone against the champion of the Chaos Gods and feels the power in his foe reach unimaginable levels as it is fed to him, screaming, from the Warp.
Horus and the Emperor are fighting, physically, psychically and spiritually. They fight with such tenacity and ferocity, and with powers drawn from every plane of existence, that the very fabric of the universe around them must slow to witness every movement in their climactic duel for the fate of mankind. The motion of objects in the viewing glass behind them almost freeze in space as the intensity of their fighting reaches critical. Their blades and bodies blur out of mortal comprehension as they dart in and out of the dance of death, striking at and retreating from one another a hundred times within the space of a blink.
They shift from reality into the warp and back again and both their bodies and minds combat each others. In the warp the Emperor can see the entities that are the Chaos Gods. They lack any true form but are the coalescences from the product of every evil and sin ever to be committed. He can hear the psychic screams of numberless sacrifices being offered up to them in unholy rituals and death and terror wrought in their names. They in turn feed their energies of hate into Horus. But the Emperor also feels himself being lent strength as the essence of his God spirit is nurtured by the prayer vigil of his billions of loyal servants across existence is offered up to and absorbed by his spirit. His aid begins to slip as the prayers falter in volume and intensity. As he exchanges blows with Horus on the spectral plane he can sense the demons of Chaos sowing seeds of doubt and abandonment in the minds of his believers.
Their battle shifts back to the material world and again they are in the backdrop of the besieged Earth. The Emperor destroys a pillar with his sword as Horus ducks and strikes back with a claw that sets the air on fire in its speed. They meet blade and claw again in another sustained flurry of strikes and counterstrokes. Only for so long can they remain evenly matched, however.
The Emperor begins to weaken as his powers falter against the combined wills of the Gods of Evil. In his soul he hears them howl louder in the Warp, feeding Horus their last reserves of strength. His allies cannot aid him with such power. It takes more and more effort for the Emperor to keep up his flurry of offensive strikes, until eventually all he can do is hold his own against Horus onslaught. Without warning the first of Horus attacks breaks through the guard of the Emperors blindingly quick counterstrokes. The Emperor is sent flying through a pillar from the impact of the lightning claws on his chest. The echo of a thunderclap still resounds as the Emperor rights himself just in time to meet the charging Horus.
Horus plows through the Emperors form like a wrecking ball and sends him into another pillar, the stone support shattering upon the Emperors impact. The Emperor is quicker this time and meets Horus with a psychic attack of pure will power, pure force of thought. Horus is knocked backward into a flip and lands on his stomach. The Emperor rushes forth to attempt and finish him, but Horus is only stunned and is already on a knee with his claw ready to defend as the Emperor reaches him. Horus holds the Emperor at bay with counter strokes from his crackling claws as he gets to both feet.
The Emperor can feel the gap between their strength widen and is all too soon sent sprawling back, choking, from an armored punch to the throat. Horus gestures towards him with a hand, an invisible bolt of terrible force erupts outward. The Emperor rolls to the side and dodges the psychic attack. A ship in orbit behind where the Emperor just stood explodes instead like a miniature sun. Horus stomps the ground in front of him and the obsidian floor ripples like black water. A wave of stone splinters up towards the Emperor and knocks him off his feet. Horus laughs as he rises inches off the floor, hovering, as his power finally bridges the divide between mortal and God. The Emperor knows despair. Horus disengages the claw from his gauntleted hand and moves to finish the Emperor by hand.
The Emperor is up as Horus glides to him and he uppercuts Horus with the hilt of his sword. Horus head knocks back and the Emperor tries to stab at him before Horus can regain himself. Horus catches the blade in one hand and returns his gaze to the Emperors horrified eyes. The blade crumples like paper in Horus grasp and he throws it aside. The Emperor cannot even maintain his hold and the once magnificent weapon and it flips end over end across the room to cling across the obsidian floor. The Emperor throws a punch at Horus face, his forearm is caught at the end of a blurring hand, his fist inches from Horus face. Horus tightens his grasp and the armor crunches, bones shattering underneath. The Emperor yells in pain, falling to a knee in anguish.
Horus uses his arm as a handle and smashes his body like a hammer against an anvil violently on the pillars all around. Both stone and bone shatter with each room-shaking impact. The Emperor feels bones snap in his legs and ribs break in his chest. His spine crushes at the lower back and he loses feeling from his waist down, he blacks out involuntarily. He is brought back to consciousness screaming as Horus finally wretches off the lower half of his arm, his body now thrown free, lands limp across the room before Horus throne.
The Emperor hears Horus laugh before he sees him, his eyes fight to bring him back from darkness. He knows he has failed. Horus has won and humanity will now fall into a galaxy of Chaos. He vomits dark blood on himself. He wants to weep, but not from the physical pain. He has failed Sanguinius and everyone who has ever believed in him. Humanity will perish, the galaxy will burn. The knowledge of those cold facts weighs his bruised heart heavily and he surrenders to the fate he cannot change. He knows this is his end. He grinds his teeth and steels himself against the pain. His face is strained and dripping sweat, but his expression knows no fear. He will give no more satisfaction to Horus.
Horus returns back to the ground. The ship trembles as each foot touches down. The room reverberates with the echoes of unholy victory as Horus walks to the Emperors broken body. He laughs with fact rather than pity in his voice. Old fool, I offered you a choice. You chose to die.
Horus raises a fist, dark green and black energies begin to flow about it. They swirl up into the form of a flickering ethereal blade, the Emperor sees the hand pull back, about to give him the deathblow. He keeps his eyes open. He wants to see his death come. He will not cower from it like a frightened child hiding in the darkness.
Just before the strike lands and Horus destiny as ruler of a galaxy of Chaos are secured, the doors are smashed open with a thunderous boom. At first the Emperor can only make out the outline of the large golden form. It is running towards them, then the recognizable sound of a storm bolter rings out as his vision makes it out to be a Terminator, storm bolter blazing away at Horus. Horus does nothing, letting the lone Terminator see the futility of it all. The bullets vanish, like dust in the wind, before they can reach Horus. The Terminator sees the Emperors dying form at Horus feet. He might as well have died too at that instant, his weapon lowers, he sees no reason to continue. His Emperor dies before his very eyes.
Horus aims his hand toward the now still marine and lets the energies fly, his hand recoiling from the discharge. The thick armor of the Terminator suit peels away like the skin of a ship during re-entry and the marine is soon disintegrated into nothingness. The Emperor feels righteous wrath explode from inside as Horus laughs at the death of one of his loyal disciples. He focuses his energy, and draws upon unknown reserves. His will to avenge the fallen marine gives him purpose like none he has ever felt before. Horus feels the energy gathering in the Emperor, ready to explode like a supernova.
A halo of blinding light surges around the Emperors head and expands out. His spiritual being becomes hyper active and he draws strength from the prayers he can now hear over the laughing demons in the Warp. His soul swells out of the confines of his body with holy energy and illuminates the room with the divine light of his righteous anger. The effect is so intense that Horus is blinded as he turns to face the Emperor. Those in orbit and on the world below swear they are witnessing the birth of a star.
The Emperor sees a chink in the breastplate of Horus armor and knows immediately that Sanguinius last full measure of devotion was not in vain. He knows he only has one chance now to rescue humanity from its ill fate. He focuses on the chink in Horus armor and lets loose a bolt of divine vengeance, the halo fades and his strained soul returns to its body.
Horus face turns to an expression of terrified disbelief. An arrow of Humanitys vengeance, of Humanitys will to survive, flies true and penetrates into the War-masters heart. Horus screams out in anguish as the energy consumes him like the awesome unstoppable force of a black hole. His efforts are futile and he is drawn closer and closer to his end until, like the last moment of darkness in the night, he is overcome by the light. And in one moment, all that was lost, became all that was saved.
The arm propping the Emperor up gives way and he collapses to the floor, content to die if that is his fate. Rogal Dorn enters the room, sweat and blood drip from his face. His once golden armor is completely faded, battered, and dented from blades, bullets, claws, and fangs. His forehead is lacerated and blood is flowing down his brow freely. It is smeared across his face and on the eagle on his chest.
He quickly glances around with his sword held ready. It drips with the blood of a thousand, now slain, nightmares. He sees the Emperors body broken on the floor and the fear that the Emperor may be dead cascades over him. Nooo! he yells and pleads as he runs to see if the Emperor has truly died. As he comes out from among the pillars he sees Sanguinius too, broken and lifeless at Horus throne. His heart throbs with the pain of loss.
He drops to his knees beside the Emperor and casts his weapon aside. He turns the Emperor on his back and puts his fingers to the Emperors bruised throat. He weeps thankfully as he feels a faint pulse of life within. He knows he must act quickly. He switches on his com-bead and calls on all frequencies for an apothecary to home in on his beacon. He tears off the jagged armor from around the stump that is left of the Emperors arm. He tears a strip of his robe off and ties the wound tight to slow the bleeding. He puts his head to his fathers chest and begins to pray. The Emperor will not die on his watch

Yul BrynnerLex LuthorJean-Luc PicardProfessor X pre-paralysisVin Diesel Horus Lupercal, the Warmaster. Here shown prior to getting his Chaos on.

Young Horus in all his bald glory (looking weirdly like Benito Mussolini cross with a WWE wrestler).

If this reminds you of every Baroque and/or Christianity-related painting from the Renaissance up until the 19th Century, good. Also note how the Custodes are Dark Silver and wearing Pickelhauben (That's because these are Sagittarum Guard).

Horus Lupercal, in all his miniature glory.

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