Beginning
At the end of the 30th millennium, the iron legions of the Imperium had marched across the galaxy, reclaiming worlds lost during the Dark Ages of Technology and imposing the dominion of mankind wherever their banners flew. Over two centuries of relentless expansion had restored countless colonies, establishing humanity as the undisputed master of the stars.
The galaxy was far from safe, however. The alien races that once threatened human ascendancy had been broken, though not eradicated. The Dark Angels had annihilated the mighty Randan, leaving only scattered remnants. The Eldar sought to mend the scars inflicted by Slaanesh, the Necrons remained dormant in their tombs, the diminutive Squats retreated into the heart of their hollowed worlds, and the Tyranids continued to roam the outer reaches of the galaxy. Among these, only the Orcish empire of Ulanor retained the strength to challenge humanity, though it was clear to all that Ulanor was a last obstacle in the Imperium's inexorable drive toward galactic dominance.
The White Scars had traced the warboss's position deep within Ulanor's territory. Once the other Legions had gathered, the Moon Wolf God would personally lead the strike to destroy this alien stronghold, ensuring the Great Crusade would culminate with a final, symbolic display of Imperial might. Yet, for reasons none could discern, the Emperor suddenly halted the campaign. He summoned all of His sons to Holy Terra, instructing them to bring some of their warriors with them—including, unexpectedly, the recently disciplined Word Bearers.
The Primarchs obeyed without hesitation. Ships tore through the Warp, arriving one by one at Lionsgate Port, their banners striking in the light of distant stars. Guilliman, ruler of a Pocket Imperium, sensed the gravity of the summons immediately. He paused preparations for the campaign against Ulanor and began the journey back to Terra. Yet a Warp storm delayed his passage, making him the last to arrive. Upon reaching the Throne World, he found his brothers already assembled. "Dorn, what has happened? Why has Father summoned us so suddenly?" he asked, his voice betraying concern and unease.
Rogal Dorn, composed as ever, shook his head, indicating he acted only as the Emperor had commanded, escorting the other sons and their followers. Mortarion emerged from the mist surrounding the gathering, his voice low and foreboding. "It cannot be good news," he intoned. Magnus, ever inquisitive, offered a more hopeful interpretation. "Perhaps Father wishes only to see us and hear of our accomplishments. He may be curious about my recent discoveries."
The Lion, recalling the calamity of Prospero, spoke sharply. "You know the risks, Magnus. Father forbade further Warp exploration. We cannot allow tragedy to repeat itself."
An uneasy silence fell. Horus, the eldest, stepped forward, leading the assembly toward the palace. Passing through the Gate of Eternity, they entered the magnificent throne room, where the Emperor awaited them upon His golden throne, flanked by Malcador the Sigillite and Constantine. Despite the confusion and apprehension that filled their hearts, all the Primarchs and their warriors bowed in respect before the Master of Mankind.
The Emperor gestured, and Malcador activated a strange device placed at the center of the hall. "Several months ago," he explained, "this machine appeared within the palace. Testing has shown that it responds only to specific individuals. The Emperor believes it holds extraordinary value."
Angron's voice cut through the explanation, full of rage. "So you dragged me from the battlefield for a machine? Again?"
"Father must have his reasons," Horus replied calmly. "We must trust Him, even if it costs us precious time."
Macrador then revealed what had accompanied the device: a tattered greatsword. Every Primarch recognized it instantly—the Emperor's own blade, battered and worn but unmistakable. Psionic energy radiated from it, confirming its authenticity.
The Emperor finally spoke, His voice calm yet absolute. "It is indeed my sword—but not the one I carry."
A ripple of unease ran through the assembly. "If it is yours, how did it end up here?" Horus asked. "Is this a trap? A warning?"
"I do not know," the Emperor admitted, His gaze sweeping across His sons. "But this machine will reveal truths that you cannot yet comprehend. That is why I have summoned you."
One by one, the Primarchs and their warriors voiced their resolve. "We will stand by you, Father." "We will protect you." "We are the weapons you forged." "We are family, and family must unite."
The Emperor regarded them with quiet authority, then gestured toward the projector. "Then let us begin."