Webway, Ilmarin
518.M32
Raldoron
The last hours had been incredibly chaotic and had ultimately turned his orderly world upside down. He had expected to fall at the hands of Kha'banda, whom a fight in the material world would likely require an entire Chapter. Yet here they were in the Warp, where the Greater Daemon of Khorne seemed virtually invincible. More powerful than Raldoron could have imagined.
So he and his brothers decided to fall in battle with their father's name on their lips, fighting to the last breath, as befits Astartes.
Bloodthirster was clearly toying with them, as predators do with their prey. It was humiliating on the one hand, but on the other, it gave them time and the slimmest hope that they would somehow harm the vile being.
Salvation came as unexpectedly as from whom it came. Their glorious Father, in his radiant glory, filled with righteous anger, descended among them, crushing Kha'banda like some lesser spawn of Chaos.
His power surpassed anything Raldoron himself remembered, and the aura surrounding him was second only to that of the Emperor of Mankind himself.
In addition, Sanguinius, who usually preferred close combat, demonstrated psychic powers that even the best Librarians could only dream of, on a scale comparable to those of Magnus, Malcador, and his father.
Raldoron felt a sense of relief at that moment; countless years of searching and wandering the Warp had finally paid off. They might not have found Sanguinius, but at least he had found them, and at the moment of their greatest crisis.
Most importantly, Azkaellon's visions and dreams had come true. Their father had survived, and more, he was now more powerful than ever, the true Champion of Mankind.
Another surprise, albeit a positive one, was the appearance of Lord Jaghatai, who skilfully organised their retreat, along with the secured Geneseed.
The Primarch of the White Scars had disappeared decades after the Heresy, after following the retreating Dark Eldars into the portal leading to the Webway.
The fact that he was present here with their father meant that one of them must have found the other. Could it be that Lord Jaghatai had found their Primarch?
Whatever the truth, he was certain he would find out soon. The ship they were on was gargantuan, even compared to those of the Imperium, as he could tell from its structure and the time they spent exploring its interior on the way to the bridge.
Moreover, the interior of the Angel's Pride, as the ship was supposedly called, bore little resemblance to Imperial engineering and technology, being more akin to that of the Aeldari, along with some completely unfamiliar, yet human-like, technology.
Moreover, although most of the crew were humans, though not dressed in Imperial uniforms, he did see a few creatures several metres tall, which he initially mistook for some kind of Knights or other mechs.
Or at least, until he saw one of them without a helmet. The less savage, more civilised face still undoubtedly belonged to some Ork. These Orcs seemed to serve alongside the humans on this ship, under the command of their sons, the Emperor.
But if his father considered this normal, who was he to question it? Other Primarchs could be, and even should be, questioned, but not their father, who was the embodiment of all that is right and just.
"My Lord," he addressed Jaghatai Khan, who was walking at their head. Before he could say anything more, the Primarch raised a hand, signalling silence, and then spoke himself.
"I know you have many questions, Raldoron... You all do. However, they must wait until we are safe. We are still in the Immaterium, and unfortunately, the eyes of the Ruinous Powers have fallen on us, or rather, on my brother."
The Primarch paused for a moment, turning to them, and added, "You may see things that make you question everything you know, shatter your beliefs, and test your faith, but I tell you this: trust in Sanguinius."
Raldoron, hearing these words, had no choice but to listen and wait for answers. Fifteen minutes later, or so he thought, they reached a bridge that could easily accommodate the entire Chapter Astartes with room to spare.
Dozens of officers and crew members filled the bridge, along with the rest of their brethren, led by Azkaellon, who had first withdrawn. There were also more xenos resembling Orks.
One of the officers, whom Raldoron assumed was the ship's captain, approached the White Scars Primarch, then, saluting with a fist to his chest, reported:
"Lord Khan. We are docking now, and the Psychic Gates are ready to transport you into the City."
The Primarch nodded, then spoke, "Well done, everyone. Sanguinius will be extremely pleased with your performance."
The former Blood Angels Chapter Master noted that these words not only brought smiles to the crew's faces, but in their eyes he saw a zealous devotion that immediately brought to mind images of Emperor worshippers, even the Word Bearers before their betrayal.
It was a somewhat disturbing thought, but he decided to put it aside for now. If anyone in the Imperium should be worshipped, it's their father.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Lord Jaghatai, who now addressed them directly. "Follow me. I'll show you your new home. And leave your weapons and ammunition. It will be transported later."
Raldoron exchanged surprised glances at this phrase with Sorgan and Zephon, but they didn't comment. Azkaellon, on the other hand, shrugged, which looked somewhat comical in his Terminator armour.
A moment later, to their surprise, a strange gateway, clearly based on xeno technology, standing on the other side of the room, glowed with the blue-purple light of Warp energy.
The Primarch leading them entered it without hesitation, and they obediently followed, and what they saw on the other side took their breath away.
Raldoron, who had seen a large portion of the galaxy during the Great Crusade and since, had to admit that he had never seen anything so spectacular.
Neither the Emperor's Palace, nor the Saturn shipyards, nor the Eldar Craftworlds could compare to this structure. Its sheer size surpassed any other structure he had ever seen, not to mention its beauty as the entire structure glowed with silver light.
Moreover, it must have been even larger from a distance, for now he could only see it from the tip of one of its countless spires that served as docks for ships.
Hearing the hushed murmurs of his brothers, he guessed he wasn't the only one so impressed. What this place was, he didn't know, though he doubted they were anywhere else in the galaxy.
This city, this planet—he didn't even know what to call it—was larger than most inhabited planets. Moreover, the space surrounding it seemed to be a mixture of multicoloured energies, similar to those of the Warp, but more stable, creating a sort of spherical barrier around the entire structure.
Raldoron also noticed crowds of people filling the place, going about their duties and occupations. Massive mechs of various shapes and sizes were unloading and loading cargo, ammunition, and weapons.
Hundreds of spacecraft were docked within his sight, and probably thousands more were beyond.
Lord Jaghatai, without hesitation, moved toward a nearby portal similar to the one they had passed through, while he hurried after him.
After passing through the portal, they found themselves in a vast square stretching for miles in every direction, where Knights stood in neat rows, resembling those of the Aeldari rather than those of the Imperium.
But it was the thousands of Titans occupying most of the square that caught Raldoron's attention. Their sheer number sent shivers down his spine. Most of them, once again, resembled the long-eared style.
They followed the Primarch through successive portals, each time seeing more and more evidence of military and economic power. He also concluded that Lord Khan was deliberately showing them all this.
However, thousands of questions were brewing in Raldoron's mind, to which he wasn't sure he wanted answers.
Finally, they followed the Primarch of the White Scars into a large conference chamber, where answers to their questions clearly awaited them, for it wasn't empty.
He heard faint gasps behind him from some of his brothers, which didn't surprise him in the slightest. To the Astartes, a good xeno is a dead xeno.
For the first to catch their eye were undoubtedly those exceptionally well-armed and calm Orks. Two of them stood against the chamber wall, observing the Astartes intently, their eyes filled with obvious intelligence.
He also couldn't help but notice the four Eldar sitting at a massive table, crafted from what he believed to be wraithbone.
The strangest sight, however, was the three orbs of light hovering near the Aeldari, and it didn't even occur to him to ignore them, for as he gazed at them, his instincts, hardened by centuries of combat, warned him of them.
Since their physical forms didn't seem to pose a threat, these xenos must have been powerful psykers, similar to the Eldar.
"Enter, fear not, sons of Sanguinius." A deep male voice echoed in his head, making Raldoron immediately stand on alert. His brothers did the same. Lord Jaghatai gave them a sharp look, and against their instincts, they, feeling embarrassed, allowed themselves to relax.
"I am the Prophet, and I welcome you to Ilmarin, a haven for those who seek refuge," the voice spoke again, and Raldoron had to clench his fists to keep from reacting. He didn't like unfamiliar voices in his head.
"I think, my dear mentor, that I will take care of the rest," a familiar voice sounded from behind them, and they all turned as one. Behind them stood Sanguinius himself, who had appeared as if from nowhere.
His brothers fell to one knee before their father, as he likely would have done too if he hadn't been in Terminator Armor.
"Arise, my sons."
"Father!" Shouts of relief rang out from his brothers, and Azkaellon sobbed. He didn't blame him, for he himself felt like crying with relief. They had only seen him for a moment before, but now, as he stood before them with his gentle smile, it all fully sunk in.
Their father was alive, and they could stand by his side again. Bask in his radiant light.
"You surely have many questions," Sanguinius continued, stepping closer to them and patting their shoulders. "I will answer them, but first, allow me to introduce those gathered here, each of whom is my ally. Knowing Jaghatai's life, he explained nothing to you."
"I found that pointless," replied the second of the Emperor's sons. "It would be better for them to hear it from your own lips."
"Indeed, all this can wait. First, allow me to greet my sons after such a long separation." With that, he approached the Astartes one by one and embraced them.
Raldoron watched, unsure how to react, seeing the hardened, powerful warriors openly weeping in their father's arms. Azkaellon practically leapt out of his Terminator Armor.
Finally, their Primarch reached him, embracing him without hesitation, even despite his thick armor.
"Raldaron, my son. "It's good to have you by my side again." Sanguinius's words stirred within him a mixture of emotions he thought he'd long forgotten.
The loss of their father, the Black Rage, the splintering of the Legion into Chapters, and finally, their long journey—all these things came flooding back, and a solitary tear rolled down his face, his heart once again filling with long-forgotten pride and fire.
Sanguinius released him, then addressed them all once more.
"My sons. Allow me to explain what happened to me and introduce you to the people who helped me, those without whom I wouldn't have survived. Sit down."
With a wave of his hand, armchairs rose from the floor, made of the same substance that made the white floor. The exact number of them that Raldoron and his brothers were present. He waved his hand again, and Raldoron and his three brothers, wearing Terminator Armor, found themselves behind them, clad only in their normal armor.
The story that followed was as extraordinary as it was improbable, but of one thing he was certain. It turned everything he believed in, everything he served, upside down.
To think that all these xenos had participated in the war that shaped the face of this galaxy and created the Chaos Gods themselves. And in that same room were three of those who had once called themselves gods of the Immaterium.
The knowledge he had acquired in those few hours seemed to sear his brain. Not just the sheer volume of information, but its weight, its significance.
Part of him wanted to slap his father in the face for spitting on everything the Imperium and the Emperor represented, but his more rational side was beginning to understand the ambition of Sanguinius and his allies. And that opened his eyes. Their Primarch planned to become a god. And the One God at that.
"I know what I've told you may be too much for you, and if you refuse to participate, I will send you to Baal regardless..." their Primarch said finally, but Azkaellon interrupted.
"My Lord, whatever you command, we will do, and wherever you direct, we will follow! We live to serve you!"
And many of his brothers began to nod in agreement.
"We will follow you into the darkest corners of the Immaterium," Zephon added.
"And we will die with your name on our lips," Nassir added.
Sanguinius finally looked at him and asked, "And what do you say, Raldoron?"
Taking a deep breath, he looked firmly into the eyes of his beloved Primarch and, knowing that for him there could be only one answer, replied, "For Sanguinius."
His father's golden eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Excellent. I have quarters ready for you. Once you have rested, we will talk more and discuss further plans."
Raldoron nodded but had to ask, "What are your plans for us? Do you wish to recreate the Legion?"
"No," Sanguinius denied. "You will become my own guard, in the style of my father's. Angela Custodes. Guardian Angels. And what next? Well, I'm counting on you to help me acquire one thing I'll need in the future."
"What is this thing?" Sorgan Vorsoris asked. And all the Astartes' attention focused on their Primarch.
Their father smiled faintly and replied, "A Shard of god hidden on Mars."