Chapter 13: The Beginning of the Horus Heresy (Ah Shit!!)
Seeing Magnus's smug expression, Francis smiled and turned to the Wolf King. "Sixth Brother, I think you should use your best technique to teach him a lesson."
Leman Russ tilted his head, confused. "My best technique? Which one do you mean?"
Magnus also looked puzzled. What technique could this be?
Francis made a downward sweeping motion with both arms, then lifted his right leg slightly in demonstration.
Understanding dawned on Leman Russ's face. He rushed over and grabbed Magnus.
"Leman Russ, what are you doing? Let go of me!" Panic surged through Magnus as a terrible premonition gripped his mind.
But the Wolf King didn't answer. After securing his grip, he pressed down hard with his hands while driving his knee upward.
"AHHHHHHH!"
A piercing scream echoed throughout the pyramid, clearly audible even to the Astartes in the distant monastery.
Outside the Inner Sanctum
"That's our Primarch's voice!" Thousand Sons warriors tensed immediately. "Something's happened to our gene-father!"
As they prepared to move, Soul Drinkers blocked their path.
"Don't worry," one said calmly. "Our Primarch excels at healing. They're probably treating flesh change mutations."
The Thousand Sons looked suspicious. "Really? But why does the screaming sound so agonized?"
The Soul Drinkers lifted their robes in response.
"Look! All the mutations on our bodies have been cured. The process was extremely painful, I'll admit." The marine's scarred face bore no trace of the writhing flesh that had once plagued him. "Our Primarch doesn't use painkillers. We have no idea why."
The Thousand Sons, who also suffered from flesh change, were immediately stunned. This was something even their own Primarch couldn't achieve, yet the Soul Drinkers' gene-father could do it!
What incredible power!
Magnus's continued agonized screams now filled the Thousand Sons with profound envy.
"How fortunate they are!"
The screams spread across Tizca's skyline like a herald of change, though none present could know how prophetic that would prove.
Meanwhile, Across the Galaxy
On the world of Davin, events that would reshape the Imperium forever were already in motion...
"AHHHHH! Father, what's wrong? Don't frighten us like this!"
The Sons of Horus stood before their unconscious gene-father, faces etched with fear and confusion. Their Warmaster, invincible, indomitable Horus, lay pale and fevered on a medical slab.
Recently, during combat against plague-bearing undead, Horus had led them in wiping out Chaos cultists under Eugan Temba's command. What should have been a swift victory had turned catastrophic when Temba's tainted blade found its mark.
The wound had festered despite all treatment. Despite continuous care from the Legion's finest Apothecaries, they couldn't halt Horus's steadily declining condition.
The Sons of Horus fell into despair. Their reverence for their Primarch knew no bounds.
With their gene-father unconscious, Legion command fell to Horus's advisory council, the Mournival.
"What options remain?" Abaddon's voice carried barely controlled rage. "The Primarch's condition worsens while the Imperium's Apothecaries prove utterly useless!"
"We should contact Terra directly," Garviel Loken suggested thoughtfully. "Request court physicians and the finest Apothecaries."
"By the time Terra's help arrives, our Primarch may be dead!" Abaddon slammed his fist on the strategy table. "You're signing our gene-father's death warrant!"
Veins bulged across Abaddon's forehead as his bloodshot eyes promised violence.
"Cease this fighting," Tarik Torgaddon intervened quickly. "Finding a solution is paramount, not assigning blame. While Loken's method might not be optimal, he wants our gene-father to recover as much as any of us."
If they continued arguing like this, their Primarch would truly die.
"I agree with Abaddon," Horus Aximand said, his strategic mind cutting through the emotion. "That approach won't work, we need solutions using available resources. Earlier, a Word Bearers chaplain mentioned something called the power of Chaos. Perhaps we should consult with them?"
As the Mournival's strategist, Aximand still commanded respect from the other three members.
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
After unanimous approval, they summoned the Word Bearers' First Chaplain, Erebus.
Soon, Erebus appeared wearing iron-grey power armor inscribed with passages from the Book of Lorgar. The moment he removed his helmet, an eerie presence filled the chamber.
Erebus's withered, pale skull bore similar Lorgar inscriptions, and shadows seemed to cling to his features like a daemon's caress.
But within moments, the Mournival stopped noticing such details and stated their request directly: they wanted to wake Horus.
"But the Warmaster explicitly rejected such power before," Erebus said, putting on a troubled expression. "He called it heretical and forbidden."
"What time is this for such concerns!" Abaddon's hand moved toward his chainsword. "Just tell us, can you save his life?"
Seeing Abaddon's threatening posture, Erebus took two careful steps back. "We can try. Previously, no matter how grievously injured Davin's people became, entering the Serpent Lodge allowed complete recovery."
"Presumably, the Warmaster should benefit similarly."
Hope blazed in Abaddon's eyes. "Then why are we still talking? Transport our Primarch there immediately!"
"Won't this be dangerous?" Loken interjected. "After all, our Primarch already rejected such power."
"Are you trying to prevent our Primarch's recovery?" Abaddon violently pushed past Loken. "Loken, are you attempting to seize command?"
"I think Abaddon's correct," Aximand stepped in. "Our Primarch's condition is critical—we cannot afford further delays."
Torgaddon, initially neutral, gradually aligned with Aximand and Abaddon's position.
Now Torgaddon, Abaddon, Aximand, and Erebus stood united while Loken remained isolated in opposition.
"Fine." Loken's posture sagged in defeat. "Do what you believe is best."
Behind the trio, Erebus revealed a subtle, sinister smile.
He would definitely cure Horus, absolutely, without question. 'After all, the plague-touched blade wielded by Eugan Temba had been mine gift in the first place.'
Everything proceeded according to plan. False Emperor, your blessed days are numbered!
When the others looked away, Erebus resumed his disguise as a devout Imperial chaplain.
"Come. We'll transport our Primarch to the Serpent Lodge immediately."
Back on Prospero
Hours had passed since Magnus's "lesson" ended. Now, in the pyramid's inner sanctum, Francis prepared to share knowledge that would shake the foundations of his brother's world...
"So Horus truly will betray the Imperium," Magnus said, absorbing Francis's prophetic revelation. "But not because I became Father's favored successor."
Magnus fell into deep thought, his single eye distant with contemplation.
Leman Russ and Francis exchanged glances. Francis hadn't expected the most powerful psyker among the Primarchs to display such pronounced narcissism.
"Yes," Francis continued carefully, "but it will also result from your illegal psychic practices, leading to the Webway's destruction and plunging the Imperium into civil war."
"Tens of thousands of Custodians will be reduced to mere thousands. The Silent Sisters will suffer catastrophic losses. The Imperium's territory will lose more than half its span, and half our brothers will betray the Golden Throne."
Francis's words struck like hammer blows against Magnus's consciousness.
"Impossible!" Magnus's voice cracked with disbelief. "This cannot be!"
"This would make me the Imperium's greatest traitor! I would have betrayed Father's trust!"
"No! That's not me! That cannot be me!"
Francis realized his mistake too late. Though Magnus possessed extraordinary psychic power, extreme emotional turbulence still triggered catastrophic psychic manifestations.
A devastating psychic storm began forming around the Red Giant, reality warping at its edges. It looked ready to explode at any moment.
Magnus, at the storm's center, clutched his skull while his eye blazed with wild energy, repeatedly denying the same guilt over and over.
The air itself began to crack.
To be continued...
[End of Chapter]
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