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The colors lining the wraithbone passage hurtled backward at a speed that defied physics.
Inside the Webway, ti and space ant nothing.
Kaelen and his two companions walked at the rear of the procession, occasionally sizing up the agile Deathwatch and Imperial forces ahead.
Horus suddenly slowed his pace and fell back to Kaelen's side.
"But now we face an extrely practical problem, Kaelen."
The Warmaster lowered his voice.
"In what manner, and at what mont, should Cullen and I reveal our identities to Roboute?"
"From what I understand, Roboute's sons are notoriously rigid when it cos to doctrine. They would never allow two cloaked giants who won't even show their faces anywhere near the gene-sire inside the stasis shrine. Once we actually reach the Fortress of Hera, we won't even make it past the identity screening."
This was indeed a problem.
They couldn't exactly throw back their hoods and shout "I am Horus" at the Ultramarines.
If they did that, the thousands of bolters inside the Fortress of Hera would turn them into sieves before the echo died.
"Abaddon's Black Legion will help you."
Kaelen tossed that out like it was nothing.
Cullen, walking on the other side, lost his footing and nearly slamd into the wraithbone wall.
"Abaddon?" The Dark Angels veteran looked like he'd misheard. "Why would he help us go see Guilliman?"
Horus frowned as well.
This defied all common sense.
"Hear out." Kaelen waved a hand and started dropping spoilers for these two living relics.
"Once Archmagos Cawl reaches the Fortress of Hera, he'll have to et with Chapter Master Calgar and explain why he's there to resurrect Guilliman."
Kaelen gestured with both hands, sketching out the scene about to unfold.
"But here's the problem. The thod that Aeldari Emissary Yvraine uses is completely unorthodox. She has to let Guilliman die first, sever Slaanesh's poison with the Cronesword, and then rely on Cawl's armor to bring the primarch back."
Cullen sucked in a sharp breath.
Let a xenos use a blade to kill a primarch?
To any loyal Astartes, that was the purest desecration and murder.
"Exactly, and Chapter Master Calgar won't stand for it either." Kaelen spread his hands. "No one would dare take that gamble. Calgar will assu it's so conspiracy cooked up between Cawl and the xenos. He might even draw parallels to how the Warmaster was gravely wounded and corrupted by cultists on Davin."
Jabbed by that particular piece of history, Horus let out a muffled grunt.
"The situation will deadlock on the spot, everyone drawing guns on each other. But just as Calgar is about to order the arrest of Cawl and the Aeldari." Kaelen grinned. "The Black Legion's drop pods co crashing through the Fortress of Hera's do."
"The Black Legion's elite will storm the stasis shrine, trying to kill Guilliman before anyone else can. The external pressure is so extre that Calgar has no ti to deliberate, and Cawl and Yvraine use the chaos of the lee to carry out the resurrection ritual without a hitch."
At that, Kaelen couldn't help but laugh.
"So you see, judge the deed, not the intent. Ezekyle Abaddon may be an Imperial tumor leaking from every pore, but sotis a black heart does good work. Isn't he practically half a loyalist at this point?"
Horus stood there, floored.
He could not refute a single word of that absurd logic.
His own firstborn, consud with snuffing out every last hope the Imperium had, yet ti and again, at the critical mont, the man was handing assists straight to the loyalist side.
"Are these traitors' brains filled with engine oil?" Cullen shook his head in disbelief.
"But Abaddon stirring up trouble alone isn't enough." Kaelen set aside the humor and got down to business.
"I reckon there's another special unit inside the Fortress of Hera that will quietly lend you a hand. The Grey Knights Chapter."
"Grey Knights? Which First Founding Legion's successors are they? I've never heard of them." Horus looked genuinely puzzled.
"Of course you haven't. They're a special force personally selected and assembled by the Emperor and Malcador the Sigillite during the Great Heresy. Every single mber is a top-tier psyker, Astartes built specifically to fight warp daemons, deeply bound to the Inquisition."
Kaelen lowered his voice.
"The Great Rift has split the entire galaxy in two, and warp energy is surging. That ans the Emperor's psychic projection through the Webway and the warp will be stronger than it has ever been."
He turned toward Horus, his tone carrying a quiet certainty.
"A force composed entirely of psykers, along with the Ultramarines' extraordinarily powerful Chief Librarian Tigurius, they will be able to receive so form of psychic revelation directly from the Emperor."
"You have to understand, Horus." Kaelen reached out and patted the Warmaster's broad pauldron. "You are His 'First-Returned Son' in the truest sense. Even after the colossal ss you made 10,000 years ago, if you were really gunned down by the Ultramarines on Macragge, the one on the Throne would lose his mind. He will use psychic revelation to have the Librarians and the Grey Knights clear the path for you."
Those words hung in the air.
A brief silence fell over the Webway.
Horus's breathing grew heavier.
Pride. Honor.
Those emotions were hard to suppress. They were the most instinctive reaction a son could have upon hearing of his father's favor.
But trailing right behind that pure feeling ca guilt, vast and turbulent.
His father had not abandoned him. Even though he had once dragged the entire galaxy into the fires of war. Even though he had once driven his blade into his father's chest.
That lofty master upon the Golden Throne was still watching over him. Still caring for him.
The more magnanimous his father was, the more Horus felt that he had been an utterly irredeemable beast.
The Warmaster clenched his back teeth, his chest heaving. In his heart, he swore a fierce oath. This ti, even if he were crushed to pieces, even if every brother he had ever known reviled him, he would clean up this ss.
To save humanity. To save the Imperium. And more than anything, to save his father.
"Alright, stop getting emotional." Kaelen caught the shift in Horus's mood and quickly changed the subject. He had no desire to sit through thirty more years of brooding.
"As for Cullen. Once you're on Ultramarines turf, you can relax completely. They won't have any spare ti to investigate whether you're a Fallen Angel."
The old knight raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
"Think about it." Kaelen laughed. "The mont Lupercal throws back that hood. Good grief, the Great Traitor Warmaster, standing right there in the flesh. Every Ultramarine in the room will have their entire aggro ter pinned on him and him alone."
Kaelen spread his hands.
"In the face of that, who is going to care about your black power armor with no Chapter markings? You turn invisible. You understand what I'm saying?"
Cullen mulled that over for a mont.
It actually checked out.
Compared to guarding against a Dark Angels veteran with a suspicious identity, guarding against Horus was clearly the far more pressing concern.
The old knight's taut face relaxed for a rare mont, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"That actually works out quite well for ." Cullen broke precedent and cracked a joke, inclining his head slightly toward Horus. "I must offer my sincere thanks to Lord Lupercal for his chivalrous act of drawing fire."
"Cullen." Horus lowered his voice in mock anger. "If you keep making sport of this, I will throw you out first to block the Ultramarines' bolter rounds. Hmm?"
"My lord, at least I can dodge the fire of Guilliman's sons. You would be turned into a sieve." Cullen shot back without a trace of hesitation.
The three of them, amidst the tension of the march, had found a rare mont of levity.
Then, at a corner, the main Deathwatch force peeled away entirely, leaving only Emissary Yvraine and the Visarch. A short distance further, an exit materialized. The group followed Yvraine out through the Webway portal and arrived on the shrine world of the Macragge system: Laphis.
The planet was already under attack by the Black Legion's fleet.
➤ Next: The Inquisitor's Suspicion
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