Another series of stars were born and extinguished, repeatedly piercing through the heavy cloud layers and casting light upon this planet blanketed in snow and ash.
Horus silently observed the frequency of the stars' flickering in the firmament, estimating the intensity of the war. Meanwhile, he followed Jubal's guidance through the streets and alleys of the High City, entering the imperial palace...
This was a true fortress, a meat grinder of war. Horus noticed a corner tower; his martial instincts told him that if a bastion were hidden here, a single Astartes could hold back ten thousand men. Upon closer inspection, he indeed discovered concealed firing slits and signs of reinforcement...
Horus saw many similar locations along the way. Every spot he deemed strategically valuable in a conflict had been converted into a pillbox, a firing point, or a street bunker.
The commander ruling this city possessed extraordinary military talent. If one were to truly assault this place, even under Horus's command, it would likely require significant effort. This was especially true since the discipline of the Red Corsairs was far inferior to that of the "Invisible" and "Luna Wolves" within this city, all of whom had received rigorous and appropriate training.
If Horus had to describe the feeling this city gave him, he could only use one word: Ultramar. This place was like a miniature version of Ultramar.
After traversing half of the palace, at the gateway leading to the inner court, Horus saw the man he had been waiting to meet.
It was a Luna Wolf clad in pearlescent white Mark IV power armor. The armor was inlaid with the blood-red Eye of Horus, yet it could not match the brightness of the warrior's own eyes. Beneath his blond hair, his gaze was piercing, shimmering with a moonlight-silver glow—as if forged by the most skilled silversmith, infused with strength, integrity, honor, hope, and reason, radiating a brilliance of benevolence and nobility.
His high bridge of the nose, similar to Horus's, twitched slightly, like a lone wolf returning to the pack, scenting his companions. Then, a brilliant smile spread across his face. "My Wolf God, you truly live up to the title of Warmaster. The moment you return to my side, you bring war with you."
As he spoke, he pointed toward the sky. Almost simultaneously, a star in the firmament burst and vanished.
A smile involuntarily crept onto Horus's lips. Just as Loken had said, among all warriors clad in Mark IV armor, none could surpass him.
"Sejanus, my son." The joy in Horus's voice was almost impossible to suppress.
He strode forward, reaching the warrior in a few steps. He lunged out and gripped the warrior's arm firmly. The warrior Horus called Sejanus also reached out and gripped Horus's arm. They struck each other's shoulder guards with their fists—the greeting of Cthonian gangs, the greeting of brothers and blood kin.
"I truly never expected to see you again... and to see you doing so well," Horus said sincerely, his fingers almost sinking into Sejanus's armguards.
He was one of the sons most beloved by the Wolf God and the most prestigious among them. Even the rampaging Abaddon respected Sejanus; the somber Little Horus would smile upon seeing him; even the flippant Torgaddon would become more serious in his presence. If Abaddon was Horus's Lupercal and Loken was Horus's Sanguinius, then Hastur Sejanus was Horus's Guilliman—the representative of reason and benevolence within the Luna Wolves, their best and kindest aspect.
Thinking of this, a look of sorrow appeared on Horus's face. It was for this very reason that Sejanus's death had nearly altered the entire Legion and the galaxy itself; the tragedy began there...
If, according to the Angel of Extermination, 63-19 was a conspiracy of the gods, then Sejanus's death was likely not so simple either.
It wasn't just the Invisibles and the False Emperor who killed Sejanus; the gods themselves had killed him.
This thought brought Horus even more pain. He recalled a saying that the four warriors of the Mournival were four parts of Horus's soul. If so, Sejanus's death was not merely the loss of a son; a part of Horus's soul had died forever on this planet.
At that moment, Horus felt a bit of force from his arm. Sejanus pulled Horus toward him. Horus did not resist, but instead leaned in.
"Wolf God, how is the Legion? And the Emperor? Has Abaddon learned to restrain his rage? Who succeeded me after my death? Was it Loken?"
Sejanus's voice carried a hint of concern: "And what is the deal with these fellows? They are certainly not my brothers..."
Sejanus glanced at the Red Corsairs and then looked toward the sky. "Is the war still this tragic nowadays? Has the Great Crusade not ended? Who is our enemy? Xenos, or..."
Horus opened his mouth slightly, but not a single word could escape his throat. Horus found himself unable to answer any of these questions.
"Father?" Sejanus's tone became slightly more anxious.
"The enemy is... the enemy of mankind, Xenos... the Nephilim, surely you remember?" Horus said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.
Sejanus knit his brows tightly. "I remember. Those grey aliens who feed on faith. Their sonic weapons once wounded me. Back then, we fought side by side with Sanguinius."
"But, Father, Jaghatai Khan destroyed the Nephilim—completely and swiftly. Would the Eagle of Chogoris let the prey at his beak escape? Who can flee the hunt of the lightning?"
"It wasn't thorough enough. The Nephilim have returned." Horus already somewhat regretted using the Nephilim as an excuse. He had instinctively used the Xenos that had left a deep impression on him, much like how ten thousand years ago, he had used the Nephilim as a pretext to lure Sanguinius into the trap of Chaos.
"We have encountered some trouble and need something from this planet..."
"Then, Father, please come into the palace to discuss this in detail. It is not safe here." Sejanus looked at the sky and said, "The inner palace still has intact void shields that can defend against orbital fire."
Without much hesitation, Horus nodded gently and stepped forward to enter the inner palace with Sejanus.
Garon the Soul-Eater made a tactical gesture, signaling the Red Corsairs to follow.
But Sejanus stopped, frowning slightly. His gaze toward the Red Corsairs betrayed a hint of distrust. Some of the Luna Wolves who had once died on this planet placed their fingers on their weapons...
"Father, I do not quite trust them," Sejanus said sincerely and bluntly. "I hope you can speak with your sons alone. Do not let these... obviously untrustworthy fellows follow us."
Horus hesitated for a moment. "Sejanus, they are loyal to me."
"Father, the Luna Wolves are even more loyal to you."
Sejanus lowered his voice and gripped Horus's arm. "Am I still one of your Mournival?"
"Of course," Horus replied without the slightest hesitation.
"Then please allow me to fulfill my duty and advise you frankly: these Astartes have no loyalty to you. Their eyes hold only fear when they look at you... even that psyker looks at you with a hint of suspicion," Sejanus said earnestly.
Horus sighed softly. Always so sharp, his Sejanus.
Horus raised a finger, signaling the Red Corsairs that they did not need to follow.
The Luna Wolves immediately moved forward, separating Horus from the Red Corsairs.
Garon the Soul-Eater frowned, but in the end, he said nothing and obediently took a step back.
Just as Sejanus had said, he truly felt no loyalty toward Horus.
Horus and Sejanus stepped into the inner palace, passing through luxurious corridors and statue groups, ascending marble-paved steps into a high tower. Horus remembered this tower; it was here that he had killed the False Emperor of 63-19.
Sejanus and Horus entered a room atop the tower, stepping under a dome that seemed almost suspended in mid-air.
Beneath the dome stood a magnificent golden throne. Its heavy base had three golden steps leading up to a gilded chair with scrolled armrests and a tall back.
That was the chair that once belonged to the False Emperor...
Sejanus took a few steps, ascended the golden throne, and sat upon it.
Horus smiled slightly and sat in a chair opposite Sejanus, which seemed to belong to the Chancellor of this small empire.
This was certainly an act of presumption on Sejanus's part, but Horus didn't care much. He had ruled here for ten thousand years; he should sit up there to welcome his father as the ruler of this place.
"This chair suits you," Horus said with a smile.
Sejanus dazed for a moment. His finger lightly tapped the side of the chair, and a compartment popped out, emitting a burst of cold air. As the mist cleared, Sejanus took out a bottle of red wine.
"Father, I just wanted that bottle of wine."
Sejanus said with a somewhat helpless smile, "This is the False Emperor's private collection. I discovered this compartment by accident... Sometimes, when I can get away from work for a bit, I secretly open it and have a small drink when no one is looking."
As he spoke, Sejanus prepared to stand up from the chair, but Horus waved his hand, signaling him to remain seated.
Sejanus scratched his head but complied with Horus's wish.
He then took the only chilled glass from the compartment, poured a glass of bright red wine, and handed it to Horus.
Horus took the glass, gazing at the crimson liquid for a moment. It was indeed a fine wine... and the glass seemed to be the one Sejanus usually used.
"Father, forgive me. You arrived so suddenly, how could I have time to prepare a new glass?" Sejanus said jokingly. At the same time, he picked up the bottle and poured a mouthful directly into his own mouth. "You see, I don't even have one for myself."
Horus laughed. He quite enjoyed the current atmosphere. He took a sip of the wine; it was as sweet as Sejanus had claimed.
"So, Father..." Sejanus refilled Horus's glass. "Can you tell me why you are lying?"
The hand Horus had just used to lift the glass froze in place.
"We still have equipment capable of observing the void. I saw the Vengeful Spirit... and I also saw the ships of the Ultramarines, the Dark Angels, and Sanguinius."
Sejanus's voice dropped lower. "Astartes killing Astartes... Primarchs killing Primarchs. You are at odds with Sanguinius. I truly cannot imagine it. I almost thought I was hallucinating, nearly going mad."
Horus's lips trembled slightly. "I was just afraid of startling you." The lie slipped out: "Sanguinius, Guilliman, and Lion are no longer loyal to the Imperium. A malicious existence... you can understand it as a sort of Abominable Intelligence specializing in mind control."
"That Abominable Intelligence calls itself Doraemon. It mind-controlled Sanguinius. Guilliman is supporting it from behind with the resources of Ultramar, and Lion has also sided with it."
Horus hesitated for a moment, then roughly recounted the destruction of Terra, the death of the Emperor, and how a portion of the Emperor's soul was residing in a little girl traveling with him.
"I came here because the Emperor told me there is a way here to open a path to certain places on Terra. I need to go to Terra to retrieve some critical items to combat that Abominable Intelligence."
"...I see." Sejanus watched Horus for a while and then nodded slightly. "You are right. There are indeed certain places here that can lead to regions of Terra."
"I am not sure if it is the true Terra or simply a projection in the Warp, but the items within can indeed be brought out."
Saying this, Sejanus poured another glass of wine for Horus.
Horus finished the last drop in his glass and nodded slightly. "Can you take me there? I truly need—"
Horus's voice suddenly grew quiet. A sense of weakness—a feeling of frailty actually appeared in his body. Poison?
Is the wine poisoned?
No, Sejanus drank it too. It's the glass. The inside of the glass was coated with poison. But—but what poison could affect a Primarch? And why would Sejanus...
"It's Fabius. Do you still remember Fabius?" The smile on Sejanus's lips vanished, and his expression became solemn.
He remembered. Horus, of course, remembered. Basilio Fo, the former biotechnological warlord on Terra, an existence the Emperor had sighed over as a genius. He possessed many technologies from the Dark Age of Technology and was skilled at creating terrifying gene-altered creations and viruses. On the eve of the Emperor unifying Terra, he fled and established his own pocket empire in the galaxy. However, during the Great Crusade, he was defeated and captured by Horus, then imprisoned in the Imperial dungeons.
But that was not the end of Fo's talent; rather, it was the beginning. The God-Blight currently flowing through the veins of the Angel of Extermination and the Angel had its prototype created by Fo in the dungeons of Terra, filled with hatred for Horus.
"There is a door in the dungeons of this palace that happens to lead to Fo's cage and laboratory. I obtained a poison there. It is one of the experimental products he created specifically to kill you... Of course, it is only an experimental product, not enough to kill you, only enough to make you weak."
Sejanus's fingers rested on the armrest of the golden throne.
"Why?" Horus forced himself up from the chair despite his weakness. He still possessed strength; he could still snap Sejanus's neck, but he truly did not want to do so.
"Why?" he questioned through gritted teeth.
"Father, I will point out only the most fatal flaw in your lie, because I believe you haven't realized it yourself."