A hundred astropaths had died in attempts to penetrate the roiling miasma of churning warp storms, but though their heroic sacrifice was commemorated on the Iron Column, their efforts were in vain, and the Iron Hands remained incommunicado.

For weeks, the ships of the 52nd Expedition travelled by conventional plasma engines, hoping to locate a break in the warp storms, but it seemed as though the Realm Beyond was at odds with them, for the Navigators could see no way to break through and live.

Ferrus Manus had raged the length and breadth of the Fist of Iron at the injustice of surviving such treachery only to be prevented from bringing word of it to the Emperor by something as mundane as a warp storm.

When Astropath Cistor had brought word that his surviving choristers were at last receiving faint messages hurled out across the stars, the news had been greeted with great joy, until they had been deciphered and transferred to the command logic engines.

All across the Imperium, war was raging. On countless worlds, traitorous curs were revolting against their loyal leaders. Many Imperial commanders had declared for Horus and were denouncing the rule of the Emperor. Many of these traitors had launched attacks against neighbouring systems still loyal to the Imperium, and the rise of war was threatening to engulf the entire galaxy. Horus had spread his net of corruption wide, and it would take heroics the likes of which had forged the Imperium in the first place to save the Emperor's dream of a united galaxy.

Even the Mechanicum had been drawn into rebellion as warring factions fought for control of the great forges of Mars. The Astartes armour manufacturing facilities were coming under particularly heavy attack, and the Emperor's loyal servants cried out for reinforcements as their enemies deployed ancient weapons technologies that had long been forbidden.

Worse still, reports of alien attacks on human-held worlds were increasing with an alarming rapidity. The greenskins rampaged through the southern galactic rim, the savage hordes of Kalardun laid waste to newly compliant worlds in the Region of Storms, and the foul Carrion-eaters of Carnus V laid bloody claim to the Nine Vectors. As humanity was ripping itself apart with internecine warfare, countless xeno breeds were rising to feed on the carcass.

The Primarch of the Iron Hands hunched over the anvil in the centre of the forge, flickering blue fire blazing around his glowing silver hands as he worked a long length of gleaming metal upon it. The primarch's wounds had healed swiftly, but his jaw still jutted pugnaciously where his treacherous brother had smashed the stolen Forgebreaker against his skull. Even the mention of the traitor's name was forbidden, and Santar had never seen his primarch so wrathful.

Santar knew he himself was lucky to be alive, the grievous wound inflicted by the First Captain of the Emperor's Children having torn through his heart, lungs and stomach. Only the timely ministrations of the Legion's Apothecaries, and a determination to wreak bloody vengeance upon Julius Kaesoron, had kept him alive long enough for him to have his ruined flesh replaced with bionic components.

The grim figure of Astropath Cistor followed behind him, robed in cream and black, and clutching his copper staff in a white knuckled grip. The telepath's gaunt features were unreadable in the flickering firelight of the forge, but even one as dulled to psychic vibrations as Santar was, could sense his concern.

Ferrus Manus looked up as they approached, his grim, battered face a mask of cold iron anger. The restriction on entry to the Iron Forge had been forgotten, such petty rules and regulations deemed nonsensical in the face of the crisis facing the Imperium.

'Well?' demanded Ferrus. 'Why do you disturb me?'

Santar allowed himself a tight smile and said, 'I bring word from Rogal Dorn.'

'From Dorn?' cried Ferrus, the fire of his hands diminishing and his face alight with sudden, savage interest. He placed the glowing metal upon the anvil and said, 'I thought the astropathic choirs could not yet reach Terra?'

'Until a few hours ago, we could not,' agreed Cistor, stepping forward to stand next to Santar. 'The warp storms that frustrated our every effort at communication over the previous weeks have dissipated utterly, and my choristers are receiving the most urgent communiques from Lord Dorn.'

'This is great news indeed, Cistor!' exclaimed Ferrus. 'My compliments to your staff! Now speak, Gabriel, speak! What does Dorn say?'

'My lord, if I may?' said Cistor before Santar could answer. 'This sudden calming of the warp disturbs me.'

'Disturbs you, Cistor?' asked Ferrus. 'Why? Surely it is a good thing?'

'That remains to be seen, my lord. It is my belief that some external force has acted upon the warp, aiding our efforts to navigate through it and to send messages across the void of space.'

'Why would you think this is a bad thing, Cistor?' asked Santar. 'Might not the Emperor have worked to achieve this?'

'That is certainly a possibility,' conceded Cistor, 'but it is only one of many. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not voice my concern that some other agent, perhaps one of our enemy's, is calming the Sea of Souls.'

'Your concerns are noted, astropath,' snapped Ferrus. 'Now, will one of you tell me what you have received from Dorn before I have to beat it out of you?'

Santar quickly held out the data-slate and said, 'The Emperor's Champion sends word of his plans to destroy Horus.'

Ferrus snatched the slate from him as Santar continued. 'It appears as though the Warmaster's treachery is confined to those Legions that fought with him at Isstvan III. As Cistor here says, the adepts of the Astropathic Corps have finally managed to establish contact with a great many of your brother primarchs, and even now they are mobilising against Horus.'

'At last,' snarled Ferrus, his silver eyes quickly scanning the data-slate. A grim smile of measured triumph spread slowly across his face. 'Salamanders, Alpha Legion, Iron Warriors, Word Bearers, Raven Guard and Night Lords… including the Iron Hands, that's seven entire Legions. Horus doesn't stand a chance.'

'No, he doesn't,' agreed Santar. 'Dorn is being thorough.'

'Indeed he is,' said Ferrus. 'Isstvan V…'

'My lord?'

'It seems Horus has established his headquarters on Isstvan V, and it is there we are to crush his rebellion once and for all.'

Ferrus handed back the data-slate and said, 'Send word to Captain Balhaan on the Ferrum that I shall be transferring my flag to his ship. Tell him to ready his vessel for immediate transit to the Isstvan system. Deploy as many of the Morlocks as are fit to fight into its barracks. The rest of the Legion will have to make best speed and join us as soon as they are able.'

Santar frowned, as Ferrus returned to the glowing metal on the anvil, and glanced down at the data-slate to ensure he had not misread the orders it contained, orders that came directly from the Emperor's Champion. He hesitated just long enough for Ferrus to catch his delay and said, 'My lord, our orders are to rendezvous with the full force of our Legion.'

Ferrus shook his head. 'No, Gabriel, I won't be denied my vengeance on… him by arriving late and allowing others to destroy him first. The Ferrum suffered the least amount of damage in the betrayal of the Emperor's Children and it's the fastest ship in the fleet. I… I need to face him and destroy him to restore my honour and prove my loyalty Gabriel.'

'Honour? Loyalty?' said Santar. 'None could doubt your loyalty or honour, my lord. The traitor came to you with falsehoods and you hurled them back in his face. If anything, you stand as an example to us all, a faithful and dutiful son of the Emperor. How could you even think such a thing?'