Many eyes were still locked on the Gardens.
On what was left of three lives that had just bloomed and vanished in under a minute.
And then, Master Hannibal's cold voice cut through the reverent silence like the final stroke of a guillotine.
"They have returned to the light of the sun."
He turned, his figure wreathed in a restrained halo of authority.
"Their sacrifices will not be in vain. Now we understand the level of threat before us. Choose your Archetypes."
Without waiting, his body pulsed- dense with power, his golden Lattices like living blades folded over him. His steps did not pause. He moved directly toward the Cubes.
And with that, the spell was broken.
The other Primarchs stirred, the dread in their hearts overtaken by urgency.
The faster they claimed a Cube, the rarer the Archetype, the greater their chance of survival.
Feet began to move.
Rushing. Choosing.
But not Noah.
