Chapter 362: The Angel's Move
The Primarchs were the first to be permitted limited freedom of movement.
Sanguinius walked out of the Blood Angels' antechamber in silence. The Great Angel turned his head—at the far end of the corridor, darkness and golden light appeared side by side, sharply divided. Hades and Malcador stood with lowered heads, guarding that door like unmoving statues.
Beyond the door were the Emperor and Magnus.
A flicker of light passed through the Great Angel's eyes. Then, resolutely, he turned and walked away, distancing himself from that place of right and wrong.
Even Mortarion, who cared little for the internal politics of the Imperium, had been willing to contact the Space Wolves for the sake of victory at Nikaea—so it went without saying that the other Primarchs had done the same.
Long before the council convened, Sanguinius had privately contacted the Khan, Fulgrim, and Horus.
Because the Emperor had declared that he would return to Terra after this council, handing the full burden of the Great Crusade to Horus, the Great Angel understood clearly that the true purpose of this meeting could not possibly be as simple as it appeared on the surface.
His first thought had been to warn Magnus—the Thousand Sons had crossed a line, and perhaps the Emperor intended to use this council to caution him.
But—what followed after the meeting far exceeded the Angel's expectations. The moment he saw the seating arrangements, the Great Angel concluded that this gathering was not merely meant to chastise Magnus. He recalled the Emperor's and Malcador's subtle, half-spoken warnings to Horus… This council was far more complex than he had imagined.
Everything that followed felt like a farce.
Angron's abrupt intrusion, the sudden adjournment, Magnus being forced to prove his own innocence—thinking of it made the Great Angel's brow furrow once more. He knew Magnus had gone further than any of them…
But he had crossed the boundary.
The Great Angel said nothing. A patrol of Sister of Silences passed by him as he arrived at a side door of the main hall. There, Sanguinius saw the kneeling Thousand Sons—dimmed, bedraggled. Mortarion and Leman Russ stood beside them, weapons in hand, the two Primarchs speaking quietly to one another in the posture of victors.
Sanguinius did not like this feeling. Brother against brother.
When Sanguinius arrived, beneath Mortarion's hood the wrinkles around his eyes creased with a hint of amusement.
Sanguinius did not acknowledge him.
Instead, the Great Angel raised his head and stared at the hole in the ceiling.
He did not know exactly what had happened above, but as someone with some knowledge of psychics, he understood clearly that this could not be unrelated to Magnus's sorcery.
That was… that was a creature of the Warp.
The thought made Sanguinius's soul tremble for a moment.
He did not blindly believe in the Emperor, nor did he blindly believe in the Imperium, because the Great Angel knew the truth behind the Imperial Truth. The Imperial Truth claimed that there were no beings in the Warp, no daemons…
No. That was wrong.
There are beings in the Warp.
Sanguinius knew this. Horus knew it as well. During the Great Crusade, battles against psychic species had inevitably allowed them to glimpse this unsettling reality.
Warp entities possess the power of the Warp itself. They can wield sorcery far more skillfully than psychic species native to the material universe, granting them strength that is difficult to comprehend.
But that was absolutely not a justification for Magnus and the Warp entities to form a pact.
The Angel silently stared at the kneeling Thousand Sons, his gaze unreadable.
What kind of irresistible terms had those Warp entities offered the Thousand Sons Legion, to make them willing to cross the most forbidden of red lines?
The Angel's heart suddenly skipped a beat. Perhaps he already knew—
As early as the beginning of the Great Crusade, the Thousand Sons had been the Legion most severely afflicted by flesh mutation; their numbers had once fallen to as low as a thousand.
Only later, after Magnus personally led the Thousand Sons on campaign, did the Legion's size gradually recover. Magnus had publicly claimed that he had cured the flesh-change.
Sanguinius swallowed.
Perhaps an ordinary Primarch would not have drawn this connection—but Sanguinius was no ordinary Primarch. As the lord of the Blood Angels, the Great Angel constantly paid attention to any news concerning the curing of a Legion's genetic curse.
The perfect Great Angel had always been haunted by a shadow in his heart.
—The Red Thirst.
Sanguinius forced his thoughts to pause for a moment. The Great Angel pulled his mind away from that matter and began to view the situation from another angle.
He recalled that fleeting instant just moments ago—the blue figure that was utterly unacceptable, unforgivable.
Magnus could not possibly have been unaware that it was unacceptable. Sanguinius knew well that Magnus was the most arrogant among them, but no matter how arrogant a man might be, he would not discard his dignity to associate with such creatures.
The Angel remained silent.
Had Magnus been deceived by appearances and lies?
Those who pride themselves most on their arrogance are often the easiest to plunge into the abyss of falsehood.
Sanguinius paced slowly along the edge of his own thoughts.
At the cost of Magnus and the Thousand Sons, he might come to see clearly where the Imperium's—and humanity's—red line truly lay.
And, in doing so, he would also glimpse just how terrifying the Warp truly was.
But before that, perhaps Sanguinius could still do something more.
He did not choose to speak with Fulgrim or Dorn, even though the Great Angel usually made a habit of conversing with those Primarchs at gatherings.
For the sake of his Legion, and for the sake of seeing the future more clearly, the Great Angel stepped forward calmly. He carried no weapons, his hands slightly spread open as he walked onto the dais. He saw the mocking smile at the corner of Mortarion's eyes grow ever more pronounced.
He restrained his compassion, ignoring the Thousand Sons kneeling at his feet.
"Well, look who's here."
Mortarion hissed the words in a low whisper. Russ snorted crudely, folding his arms as he sized up the Great Angel.
Sanguinius gently shook his head.
"I bear no ill intent. Magnus concealed far too much from me as well. Those who once stood on his side have felt equally deceived."
"Why choose to trust a sorcerer who toys with witchcraft, bird-man?"
The Angel's brow furrowed deeply, but in the next instant he brought himself back under control. He spoke evenly.
"If you're hoping to see me lose my composure, then you'll be disappointed, Mortarion. I am not here to stop you. I only wish to know… to know…"
The Angel paused, lowering his head slightly. Mortarion and Russ looked at him with confusion and caution.
Sanguinius raised his head again. The two Primarchs could clearly see the unease and bewilderment flicker through the depths of the Great Angel's eyes.
He shook his head once more and spread his hands.
"I wish for us to remain brothers. And so, my brothers who know the truth—would you be willing to warn me of something?"
This was no longer the Great Angel wearing a flawless mask, no longer the one who always seemed aloof and composed. Sanguinius looked at them sincerely, his wings lowered, trembling slightly.
Mortarion stared at Sanguinius in shock, seized by sudden confusion and disbelief.
For an instant, he saw the image of Horus as he once was—and recalled that moment at the banquet when the Great Angel and Guilliman had tried to draw him into the circle of the Primarchs.
The Pale King parted his lips slightly. A barely audible syllable escaped him, and then—
"Stay away from the Warp. Do not trust it, not even a little."
So spoke the Lord of Death.
Russ nodded irritably. The Wolf King scratched his head and added gruffly,
"Everything else can be debated. Just look at Lorgar."
The Great Angel's long hair fell forward, obscuring his eyes. Sanguinius nodded obediently. He said nothing more, turned, and left.
The unease and confusion he had shown vanished in an instant, replaced by a faint smile of victory at the corner of his lips.
He would not return.
The next destination on the Primarch's path was the World Eaters' antechamber.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind paying $5 each month to read the latest posted chapter, please go to my Patreon [1]
Latest Posted Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 421: Guilliman Scores Some Points[2]
Link to the latest posted chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/152512330?collection=602520[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/602520?view=condensed[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/Thatsnakegirl
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/152512330?collection=602520
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/152512330?collection=602520
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/602520?view=condensed