In the void-choked space surrounding Cadia, Admiral Brand led Aiur's fleet in a coordinated strike, following in the wake of the massive fortress-monastery that dominated the battlefield. Even though the enemy's numbers and sheer weight of fire far exceeded that of the local Imperial Navy, nothing could shake the resolve of the Phalanx—the enormous and terrifying star-fortress that stood as the vanguard for all humanity.
The handful of Chaos cruisers attempting to harass the Phalanx appeared pathetic in comparison; they were so dwarfed by the mountain of stone and steel that they couldn't even fill one of its secondary docking bays. Their macro-cannon shells and lances struck the Phalanx's tectonic void shields like soft threads, failing to produce even a ripple in the shimmering energy fields.
It was only when Brand looked through the command deck's reinforced observation port that he saw it: another shadow, equally colossal and steeped in ancient malice, was drifting toward them. The Blackstone Fortress.
Observing the reinforcement fleet caught in the middle of these two titans, Brand's expression shifted rapidly. "Signals to all ships: we need to displace immediately. Clear the firing lanes!"
With the order given, Aiur's fleet began a rapid tactical withdrawal, yielding the central orbital battlefield to the two "God-Engines of the Void." As the Phalanx's main batteries ignited, the two giants began to close the distance, their escorts swarming around them like angry insects.
Deep within the Blackstone Fortress, in a chamber where the walls were lined with fangs and pulsed with the rhythm of a predatory heart, Mocas and her squad stood guard over a critical power node. Beside her, Abaddon's lieutenant, Sylon, stood in watchful silence.
Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed from the darkened corridor nearby. Sylon snapped his bolter to his shoulder. "They have breached the inner sanctum."
A shadow leaped from the darkness—a Space Wolf, his bolt pistol barking. A round struck Sylon's breastplate, the explosive tip detonating and shattering the bone-colored skull emblem on his chest.
Sylon and his retinue immediately unleashed a torrent of return fire. Mocas, however, did not draw a weapon. She placed her palm against the living bulkhead, and the walls of mutated flesh suddenly surged forward, swallowing the encroaching Space Marine. His power armor was crushed and gnawed upon by the sentient fortress, trapping him in a macabre embrace.
Sylon stepped forward and ended the warrior's life with a point-blank shot. The walls of flesh loosened, dropping the Astartes' mangled corpse to the floor. With a sharp gesture, Sylon led the counter-charge to eliminate the remaining intruders.
At the end of the twisted, gore-slicked passage, Sven Bloodhowl stood with the remnants of his Great Company. Only nineteen warriors remained, accompanied by a handful of battered Cadian soldiers. They were only steps away from the fortress's primary power coupling system.
With a furious roar from Sylon, the heretics and warp-entities began their final assault.
Just as the Wolves were being pinned down by the weight of fire, the entire fortress shuddered violently. Everyone was thrown from their feet as the massive silhouette of the Phalanx appeared outside the viewing ports, its guns hammering at the Blackstone's hull.
Sensing their window of opportunity, the Wolves surged toward the coupling. Mocas desperately reached out to the fortress's consciousness to repel them, but suddenly, a group of spectral Astartes—their black armor wreathed in unnatural flames—materialized before her. The Legion of the Damned had arrived. Their presence caused the Blackstone Fortress to scream in metaphysical agony, its systems rebelling against Mocas's control. The psychic backlash struck the girl with the force of a hammer. In a state of sheer agony, she looked up and shrieked a single name: "Father!!!"
In an instant, a jagged bolt of violet-red lightning tore through the veil of reality. Through the screaming rift, a colossal figure emerged.
Abaddon the Despoiler had arrived. His cold, golden eyes swept over the chamber. With a flash of the Talon of Horus, a Fenrisian warrior was cut down before he could even raise his axe. Nothing could halt the Warmaster's advance; he shattered the Cadians with effortless contempt and tore through the Wolves as if they were made of paper.
Sven Bloodhowl, sprinting toward the objective, slowed his pace. He glanced back at the carnage. He tossed the melta-charge in his hand to the last surviving brother beside him, then slowly turned to face the Warmaster. He discarded his empty bolter and raised his massive frost-edged chainsword with both hands.
With a deafening howl that echoed the primal spirit of Fenris, the Lord of Firehowl walked toward Abaddon. His steps were deliberate and firm. He shook his head, a wild, jagged grin spreading across his face as if he had just realized the punchline to a cosmic joke.
The smile vanished, replaced by a gaze of frozen iron. His jump pack ignited with a thunderous roar, propelling him like a predatory king directly into the path of Abaddon's Storm Bolter fire.
As he closed the distance, Sven cut his thrust, dropping low. His chainsword shrieked as it bit into the Despoiler's breastplate. However, Abaddon merely looked down at the blade with indifference, as if the weapon were a mere toy.
The Wolf Lord stared in disbelief. Before he could strike again, a shadow blurred his vision. The Talon of Horus struck Sven across the face with bone-shattering force.
As Sven reeled back, the daemon-sword Drach'nyen flashed, biting into his back and shearing through his jump pack and power cables. The Wolf Lord lost all strength in his legs and collapsed onto the gore-stained deck.
Abaddon did not stop to savor the kill, immediately pursuing the veteran who carried the melta-charge. He left the crippled Wolf Lord to be finished by his subordinates.
As Sven lay on the deck, his consciousness began to fray. Memories of his life flashed before his eyes: the day he was chosen to become an Angel of the Allfather, the lonely trials in the Fenrisian snow, and his first taste of victory. A bloody smile touched his lips. With a final, agonizing effort, Sven Bloodhowl propped himself up. He tore off one of his power gauntlets and hurled it with all his remaining strength at Abaddon's back, striking the Warmaster's towering topknot.
The Warmaster swerved, turning in a fury to face the dying Lord. Sven paid him no mind. He tore off his second gauntlet and threw it as well, the heavy ceramic spinning through the air. Abaddon strode back toward him, his mind clouded by Mocas's psychic pleading: "No, Father! Leave him! Stop the ones at the coupling, I beg you!"
Abaddon ignored her, closing the distance to Sven Bloodhowl and driving Drach'nyen through the Wolf Lord's chest. The laughter of the Wolf died in his throat. Blood welled from his lips as his pupils dilated, sinking into the dark. But in the final heartbeat of his life, a tremendous explosion rocked the core of the fortress. With a final, triumphant smile, Sven Bloodhowl closed his eyes.
"For Russ... and the Allfather... I... I have done my part..."
Brand watched from the bridge as the massive Blackstone Fortress suddenly lost its void shields. He didn't know how the miracle had occurred, but the Phalanx and the Imperial fleet did not waste a second. Every main battery in the fleet opened fire on the exposed core, including the heavy Yamato cannons of the El Navy.
As the concentrated fire struck the Blackstone's unstable heart, a violent warp-fluctuation began to emanate from the rift. The Imperial warships immediately burned their engines to flee the immediate vicinity.
Moments later, the Blackstone Fortress began to disintegrate in Cadian orbit. Torrents of raw warp energy surged outward, creating a localized rift. A third of the Black Fleet was dragged into the terrifying void before the energy stabilized, leaving nothing but a vast field of Blackstone wreckage drifting silently in the gravity well of the dying world.