999.M41
The galaxy burned.
Across a thousand systems, the Imperium crumbled.
At last, The Thirteenth Black Crusade had begun, and Abaddon the Despoiler's forces sundered the stars.
Cadia stood defiant at the arc-nemesis armies. Traitors and daemon alike filled the land while their cursed ships bloated the sky.
Chaos whispers and treachery fills the imperial guard ranks. Traitors killing high commands, regiment turning renegades.
Colonel Ursarkar E Creed, a skilled strategist of 8th cadian regiment takes the helm of imperial chain of command.
With the defiance of mankind and help of a xenos, Cadia managed to stand firm.
The eye of terror itself shrank for a moment.
Yet, at the closing of the hour, Abaddon throw his last gambit.
Traitor ships push the destroyed blackstone fortress creating an artificial meteor.
Cadia was split unto two. Yet amongs the pieces of the planet red streaking light still can be seen.
Men and women of cadia still fights.
The planet broke before the guard will now be added to surviving cadians chants.
The aftermath of the war bring huge devastation to the imperium.
The light of the Astronomican flickered, and mankind's ancient empire teetered on the brink.
Yet amid the ruin, a spark of hope flickered.
Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the XIII Legion, son of the emperor of mankind, had been brought back from deathless slumber. Through forbidden arts, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl's science and the strange warp-craft of Yvraine of the Aeldari had restored him.
But fate was a cruel master. Taking back hope it just gave from the hand of mankind.
The revived Primarch was at lost at what his Father's Imperium has become. Enlightenment his father fought for has become twisted ignorance.
The Imperium is a decaying beast waiting for xenos, daemons and other foul enemy of mankind to feast upon.
He looks up to his father for guidance.
Accompany by his sons and grandmaster of the grey knights, he goes to to the throne world.
Yet….
Guilliman never reached Terra.
Caught within the Maelstrom, ambushed by the Red Corsairs and their monstrous master, Huron Blackheart, Guilliman had been torn from reality. A greater daemon of Tzeentch, with its sorcery, had imprisoned him within a Blackstone fortress, lost amid a cursed warp-storm.
Inside his jail cell, gulliman is held by chains of doubts powered by the foul power of the warp. No matter how strong he struggles to break free, it is in vain.
Gulliman's attention shifted as heavy footsteps moving closer to his cell.
Bracing himself, he knows what is coming.
A figure of a chaos lord accompanied by his two other chaos marines on his back. One of them is A chaos sorcerer bearing Tzeentch cursed symbol.
"Well well…look who I managed to captured…Lord Gulliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarine, the son of the emperor himself has come to grace my shady vessel." Mocking tone comes out from the chaos lord.
His guards chuckling in glee.
"Huron! Release me! and I shall end you swiftly." Gulliman roars in defiance.
"Release you? Heh! That is a very nice joke Gulliman. You should be releasing yourself" Huron and his guards laugh hard as if it is the funniest joke they have heard.
"What is this sorcery?!" Gulliman ask as he tries to yank the chains on his arm yet it did not budge. Looking at the ethereal chains, it is not made of material but of power of the warp.
"Ohh I will humor you. Eztac!" Huron while grinning looks at his chaos sorcerer signaling him to explain.
"Be honored, Primarch," rasped Eztac, the sorcerer's voice dry as ash. "These are the Chains of Doubt — a powerful hex woven by a Lord of Change itself. As long as uncertainty festers within your soul, these bindings will endure."
His warped face twisted into a grin, twin horns curling from his brow as he gestured to the ethereal shackles with a crooked, rune-inscribed staff.
Gulliman forces himself to listen attentively so he can find any clues to break free.
"As long as the target has any doubt, it will never be broken!" The chaos sorcerer ended while chuckling.
"See, lord Gulliman, only you can save yourself." Huron mocks.
"…" Gulliman could only grinds his teeth in anger, not only at the traitor marines, but also to himself.
Chain of doubt casted by the changer of fate, A chain that will hold strong if Gulliman has any doubts of himself. A very daunting task as Gulliman's mind is even doubting his own ability to fix the Imperium since knowing its condition.
The imperium did not strive, it merely survives.
Now without him, the flame of survival will be snuff out.
"Look at you! Once, I will gladly kneel on your presence." Huron said looking at Gulliman's eyes as if seeing something unworthy of respect.
"But now, Chaos has opened my eyes! A primarch having doubt of himself?? A failure! That is what you are!"
"You are nothing a relic of old. A trophy that I will parade around showing I am far more capable than that fool Abaddon!"
Once more mocking laughters directed at Gulliman who is unable to fight back. This goes on for sometime.
"Lord Huron, we have detected the blackship. they are picking psykers in nearby system. Should we give chase?" Then a chaos tech marine approach Huron.
"Fortune favors us this day. Another chance to wound the Corpse-Emperor's feeble dominion! We have captured the son, now we will rob the Corpse-Emperor of his wretched sustenance." Huron said, a cruel grin twisting his features as he savored the prospect of starving the Golden Throne.
"Make sure our guest stays comforable, I have more plans for him" Huron order his techmarine before leading his group away.
"It is done." The techmarine replied before glancing at the primarch looking in disdain.
Left alone, Gulliman could only sigh.
"I am sorry Father…" he laments his own powerlessness.
And yet… in his heart, a cruel voice whispered: perhaps the imperium is beyond saving.