"Horus" had never wanted this. He had never wanted to lead his Legion in rebellion — but his father's deception was something he could not endure.
They had spent thirty years together, just the two of them. They had weathered the hardest opening years of the Great Crusade together, fought side by side in full armor. The investiture at Ullanor, the gift of the Crimson Centaurian ring — he was the son his father valued above all others.
It should never have come to this. But the temple at Davin had torn "Horus" completely apart, and what he was now was broken beyond recognition — saturated with the corrupting power of the four Gods, twisted into an unspeakable, unnameable thing.
His appearance in the Warp now was enough to reduce even the mightiest Bloodthirsters of Khorne's own court to tears.
He had long since become an utter slave to the Four Gods — and it was precisely because of this that when the "four Gods" called, those who were most fundamentally "resistant in spirit" were the ones who found the pull most irresistible of all.
But now, all of it was coming to an end.
The defeated, crawling back with their tails between their legs, had nothing left to show for it.
Every escape route had been completely sealed. The Khan had locked down every transit corridor — even the obscure back-routes had been firmly blockaded by the crusade fleet.
They had nowhere left to flee. Isstvan V — the world where they had slaughtered so many brother Legions, a planet steeped in sin — was about to become the grave of the Sons of Horus.
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, even without the Gods' power pouring into him, "Horus" had at least shaken off that state of mindless derangement — but with it he had also lost that terrifying strength.
Looking at the auspex screens painted solid red, "Horus" knew: Ferrus and the others had completely sealed this star system. The fleet arrayed against them was large enough to destroy them all within a single day.
"Horus" could already picture it — that sky-blotting barrage tearing his fleet to shreds.
"Father, what do we do now?"
The "Abaddon" entombed in a Dreadnought spoke in a low, hollow voice. Having survived against all odds, he had abandoned every last vestige of conscience. All he wanted now was revenge.
But the situation before him made it clear — they had no room left to maneuver.
"Run, 'Abaddon.' Take 'Aximand' and run from this place. Leave one last ember for our survival. We have lost this war — but our resistance against the False Emperor must continue."
"He intends to sacrifice all of humanity to ascend to godhood, to stand alongside the Gods as their equal. He deceived me. He deceived my brothers. He deceived everyone."
"I will never surrender, and I will never—"
"Horus" was agitated now, the enormous Talon of Horus crackling with red lightning arcs in his grip, making him look every bit the savage lunatic he had become.
"Abaddon" trusted his father as he always had — but he did not want to flee.
"Father — I will stay. The Sons of Horus have no cowards!"
"I won't leave either, Father."
"Aximand" stepped forward as well, resolved to stand with his father to the end.
"The situation is already clear. There is no need for you to die alongside me. This is not flight — it is preserving the ember for our future resistance. This decaying—"
"Are you still peddling that same stupid, repulsive drivel? Once I've shelled your fleet to pieces and beaten you into a pulp, I believe that mouth of yours will soften considerably."
The communication channel of the Vengeful Spirit was forcibly opened, and a familiar voice filled the room.
And at that moment, three figures materialized in the command room of the Vengeful Spirit.
"Horus" recognized all three immediately.
"Ferrus, I was not lying. I never—"
"Horus" showed no surprise at their arrival. He had known long before this moment how wide the gap between them had grown. From the very start of this war, victory had never been within reach.
But the short-tempered Ferrus had no interest in listening to "Horus" spin his tales. He cut him off without ceremony.
"Traitor! If you have anything to say for yourself, say it to my plasma macrocannon! I'll be reducing all of you to scrap in a moment!"
"You're still as volatile as ever, Ferrus. Nothing like the rational man you used to be."
"Horus" still spotted Ferrus's weakness with ease — but at this point, anything he said sounded more like begging for mercy than anything else.
"A traitor is a traitor. And you're still spinning that line about Father wanting to sacrifice us all to ascend to godhood? If you were ambitious, just admit it — a little rebellion, a little power grab — perfectly human impulses, nothing wrong with that. So why dress it up so nobly?"
"You say Father wanted to sacrifice all of humanity. And what were you doing? Does anything you have done look remotely like the actions of someone trying to overthrow Father and bring hope to humanity? Take a look at yourselves. Is there anything left of you that resembles a person?"
"Seems to me you were the ambitious ones — wanting to overthrow Father and rule all of humanity yourselves."
The Khan was not about to go gentle on "Horus." Even if "Horus" hadn't rebelled, that mouth of his — slathered as it was with whatever Nurgle had graced it — would still have drawn blood.
"That was merely a necessary sacrifice."
"Oh, spare me. Clearly you couldn't beat Father so you cut a deal with Chaos, and then they turned around and played you for a fool, made you their slave. Now Father and the real Warsmith have taken the Gods apart, and you're here making trouble again."
"'Horus' — how did I never notice before what an utterly shameless, black-hearted piece of work you are?"
"Oh right, of course — had to save all that cunning for serving your masters, didn't you? Good son of the Emperor, Warmaster of the Imperium, all of that thrown away — rushing to throw yourself at their feet and bark like a dog. What a wretch."
"Shut your mouth!"
"Abaddon" shattered right there and then.
"What do you know? Father—"
"Oh? The little dog is yapping now? 'Horus,' that talent of yours for winning hearts is something else — I hear on this side, 'I' nearly had half a Legion defected by you."
"How about it — want to try talking me around next? Maybe I'll be generous and leave you an intact corpse, rather than hauling your body back to Chogoris to burn as a lantern."
"Horus's" face had gone black as a scorched pot. The Khan kept pouring it on, not sparing him a thought.
A traitor was a traitor — why not humiliate him as thoroughly as possible?
But the figure that "Horus" could least bring himself to look at was the one standing to the left.
Those immaculate white wings folded behind his back. He was still as noble and perfect as he had always been. That expression of profound sorrow for the suffering of others still rested on his face. He was still grieving — for "Horus" himself.
"Horus" had never been willing to admit it. He harbored an unspeakable jealousy toward the Angel. The Father had always spoken of Sanguinius with the deepest praise, and never once shown any discomfort with the wings on his back.
But that was precisely what had made "Horus" afraid. Sanguinius was too perfect — perfect enough that even he could not be certain whether, if Sanguinius had also fallen, he would still have held the position he now occupied.
And so he had killed "Sanguinius." The talk of "leaving a place for him" was nothing more than a polite lie. He had envied this perfect brother deeply — and after plunging into Chaos, he had only grown more contemptible.
"You have fallen even further than I imagined, 'Horus.'"
Sanguinius had seen, through his foresight, what "Horus" truly looked like now — that unspeakable thing saturated with the power of all four Gods.
"Those are the blessings of the Gods."
"Horus" rejected Sanguinius's words.
"As the Khan said — you have become their slave. You became a complete traitor long ago."
"I did not betray! What I was doing was—"
"Argue all you wish. We did not come here to listen to your arguments. We came here to annihilate you completely."
"After today, every last one of you will be reduced to dust!"
Ferrus had no intention of listening to these traitors any further.
A traitor was a traitor — no mercy was warranted. Their end was nothing but absolute destruction.
His figure vanished first. The Khan let out a final scoff and followed.
Sanguinius looked at "Horus" one last time. He said nothing more, then silently disappeared from the Vengeful Spirit.
"You worthless bastards!"
The vast bulk of "Abaddon's" Dreadnought frame raged in the command room. The Chaos aura seeping from the sarcophagus came spilling out unchecked.
"Do you remember the ritual, 'Ezekyle'? The ritual that brought you back."
"Horus" paid the outburst no attention — but now his thoughts were entirely with his sons. This time, if any of them could escape, let them escape. Staying here served nothing.
He could no longer protect them.
"Father — I will not leave. I will stay here and fight these false Emperor's lapdogs to the very last!"
Even "Horus" found himself at a loss when faced with that son's stubborn resolve.
He was about to forcibly drag "Abaddon" and the others to the teleportation coordinates when the Vengeful Spirit shuddered violently.
Ferrus and the others had already begun their assault. The light flooding through the viewports was bright enough to bleach the command room white.
"All fleet elements, commence free counterattack. No further orders required."
"Horus" issued the command immediately. There was no longer any point in holding them back.
"'Abaddon' — stop hesitating. Take your brothers and leave. I will buy you time. Now. Leave immediately. That is my order!"
"Horus's" words brooked no refusal. There was no room for "Abaddon" to decline.
He could only take some of the First Company's brothers and make his way to the room where the ritual had already been prepared.
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, "Horus" watched his fleet falling one ship at a time. They had followed him through the entire Great Crusade. They had followed him in the rebellion, all the way to the assault on Terra.
And now they were being destroyed in rapid succession, none of them leaving with any dignity intact.
But "Horus" felt nothing particular about it. He had already anticipated these outcomes long before the rebellion began.
"Horus" suddenly looked toward the corridor leading to the forward command hub. The shimmer of a teleport beam had just flashed there. His "brothers" had arrived.
A five-man Mournival squad moved to investigate — and "Horus" held them back.
From the corridor ahead, Ferrus's unusually tall frame emerged, the Morlocks Terminators filing in behind him.
Ferrus had come without his backpack this time. The large-scale weapons it carried were not suited to this environment.
"Traitor!"
The moment Ferrus laid eyes on "Horus," his voice was saturated with fury — and with impatience, and with absolute cold resolve.
"It is time to settle the blood debt between us."
"Horus" said nothing. His equally towering frame moved to stand opposite Ferrus. The force fields of the Talon of Horus and the Worldbreaker were already charged to full.
But just as both sides were about to collide, another teleport chime rang out behind "Horus."
A flash of blades — the several Mournival members who had raised their weapons were cut in two before they could blink.
The Khan stepped out, White Tiger Glaive in hand, a portion of his Keshig following behind him while the rest dispersed rapidly through the ship to hunt down the other traitors.
"'Horus' — are you ready to be killed by me and dragged back to Chogoris as a lantern?"
The Khan's taunt landed with casual cruelty.
"Then come and try. See whether you can manage it."
"Oh, we can manage it perfectly well, 'Horus.' You are not leaving this place alive today."
In the command room, Sanguinius arrived with the Sanguinary Guard, teleporting directly in. He was beyond pity now — there was only anger.
The moment he materialized, he charged directly toward "Horus." His spear came in at incomprehensible speed.
Fast.
That was "Horus's" first thought. He barely twisted aside from the ferocious thrust — then the longsword came sweeping in at the same instant, which he caught on the Worldbreaker.
Just as "Horus" moved to counterattack with the Talon of Horus, a sound behind him — before he had time to react — and a sharp pain at his hip. The Khan's White Tiger Glaive had punched through his right flank.
He forced both of them back by sheer strength — and in that same instant Ferrus arrived. The phase hammer came down on "Horus's" skull with devastating force. "Horus" barely managed to block it.
But with the block came the colossal, impossible strength transmitted through those iron hands. The Worldbreaker — once forged by "Vulkan" as a gift to celebrate his elevation to Warmaster — was wrenched from his grasp in an instant.
The direct iron-fisted strike that followed was no less devastating than a phase hammer blow. It connected with "Horus's" armor — the breastplate cracked apart on the spot, and "Horus" coughed blood as he was hurled backward.
Sanguinius's spear drove into his chest at the same moment. "Horus" seized the Angel's spear with his remaining hand, but the phase field began eroding his left palm.
"Horus" looked up along the shaft of the spear. That handsome face was cold and utterly impassive — the anger and contempt in those eyes were the disdain reserved for a traitor, and nothing more.
The sound of rushing air struck before he could prepare — and pain erupted in his chest again. The White Tiger Glaive drove through him from behind.
In a single exchange, "Horus" — stripped of the Gods' infusion — had been driven to the very edge of death by brothers who had begun to awaken to some portion of their true nature.
The Talon of Horus, carrying his final frustration and rage, drove both Sanguinius and the Khan back once more — but they were too fast. Before them "Horus" had no opening at all.
And Ferrus came again — bearing a force that could cleave a shard of the Void Dragon itself — the phase hammer swinging down.
At the same moment, "Abaddon," entombed in his Dreadnought, looked at Jubah-Khan and Ladoron and the others ahead of him. The sarcophagus radiated a palpable killing intent.
"Looks like we're in luck — we get to run into a traitor like you."
Jubah-Khan stepped forward, his already bloodied blade driving into the deck plating.
"Didn't expect you'd end up in a Dreadnought, 'Abaddon.' I'd almost assumed Frix had killed you — word was your entire upper body had been shattered."
"Not many people can take a full punch from Frix. You're one of them."
Ladoron looked at "Abaddon" — now a Dreadnought — and shook his head in genuine astonishment. Surviving with your upper body crushed was not something that happened often.
"Lapdogs of the False Emperor — do you think you're capable of stopping me?"
"Stopping you? You're flattering yourself. Try surviving first, then say that."
Jubah-Khan's tone was dismissive. There was nothing particular about "Abaddon" worth stopping — they had simply run into each other.
The Iron Circles and Blessed Dreadnoughts moved to the front, their frames considerably larger than "Abaddon's" own, bringing the full weight of their presence down on the traitors.
"You betrayed the Imperium. And when the moment of crisis came, you were already thinking about abandoning your father and your Legion and running. And you think you're worthy of standing against us?"
"Face your final judgment, traitor!"
"Abaddon" wasted no words, and showed no fear of those Dreadnoughts and Iron Circles. He charged forward with his brothers immediately.
The bridge erupted into a savage, brutal close-quarters melee.
CRASH.
"Horus" was hurled across the deck and crashed into the steel plating, coughing blood, unable to rise.
He lay covered in wounds from every surface. His right arm — Talon of Horus and all — had been severed at the root by the Khan. His armor had been shattered apart by Ferrus. More than a dozen gaping wounds remained in his body.
Blood poured from him without stopping. A Primarch's formidable regeneration was doing nothing at all.
"I said I would beat you into a pulp, traitor. I keep my promises."
Ferrus walked slowly toward him. The phase hammer in his hand was already radiating its soft green glow. The traitor's end was already written.
But at that moment, the deflection fields and psychic shields of the Morlocks Terminators all activated at once — bolt rounds came in from behind them and were stopped entirely.
Everyone's attention was drawn to the sudden interruption.
"Father!"
"Aximand" had, in the end, defied "Horus's" order. But his arrival could not change the fact that they were all going to die here.
The Morlocks dispatched the Mournival without difficulty. The gap in their capabilities was now insurmountable.
Santar needed only two exchanges to knock "Aximand" to the ground, the phase hammer crashing down on his spine.
"Aximand's" upper body shattered, just as Abaddon's had before him — but in his final moment, he looked at his father. There was no regret in his eyes. No hatred. Only sorrow.
"No!"
"Horus" watched in agony, wanting desperately to stop what was happening, but unable to do anything at all.
"And that will be your end as well, traitor!"
Ferrus's voice. The hammer fell. The deck plating cracked under the sheer force of the blow, and the entire command room shuddered.
"Horus's" chest cavity was crushed in an instant. Blood and fragments of internal organs came up from his mouth, and Ferrus showed not one shred of mercy.
A savage second blow fell — this time into his midsection. "Horus" no longer had the strength to move, no matter how much agony coursed through him.
Blood was flooding into his nasal passage now. It reminded him of the moment he had killed "Sanguinius" — exactly like this. "Sanguinius" had not died from the beating. He had drowned in his own blood.
And now "Horus" finally understood what that had felt like. It was an awful, terrible way to die.
No way to breathe. No way to move. Even his lips had no strength left. All he could do was watch as the last of his life quietly slipped away, helpless to do anything at all.
"Horus's" mind was drifting now, flashes of memory — he thought of the moment he was first named First-Born, thought of those thirty years that had become an eternal memory, thought of the Crimson Centaurian ring bestowed upon him alone after his investiture as Warmaster—
The phase hammer came down.
"Horus's" skull shattered in an instant. The final vision was crushed away. Brain matter and splintered bone and shredded flesh scattered across the command room.
The Sons of Horus felt it all at once — sorrow and rage rising in their hearts simultaneously. Across the Vengeful Spirit and every other ship in the fleet, the Sons of Horus all became aware at the same moment of their father's fall.
"NO!"
"Abaddon," who had just fought off an Iron Circle, looked back toward the command room. The Chaos aura radiating from the iron sarcophagus turned blood-red in an instant — and then two Blessed Dreadnoughts' siege hammers came crashing down on him in the same moment.
"Abaddon" was driven back into a surrounded position once more.
The leader of the rebellion, "Horus," was dead.
This galaxy was about to be brought back under Imperial rule.