“This cannot be,” said Hathor Maat, for once articulating the feelings of his brothers with perfect understanding. “You must be wrong.”

No captain of the Thousand Sons would normally dream of uttering such a thing to Magnus, yet this was a matter of such outrageous impossibility that the words had been on the verge of spilling from Ahriman’s lips.

“He is not,” said Uthizzar, unashamed tears spilling down his face. “It will come to pass.”

“But Horus,” said Phosis T’kar. “He couldn’t… He won’t. How could he?”

Phosis T’kar could barely say the words. To voice them would give them solidity and make them real.

“How can you be sure?” asked Khalophis.

“I saw it,” said Magnus, “beneath the amphitheatre of Nikaea. I saw the face of the monster, and though I wish it were not so, I saw the truth of its words. Since our return from Nikaea, I have travelled the Great Ocean and followed the paths of the future and the past. A billion threads of destiny from long ago have woven this one crucial filament upon which the fate of the galaxy hangs. Either we save Horus or we will be dragged into a war more terrible than any of us can imagine. I travelled the distant lands of the past, pushing the limits of my power to unlock the truth, and this has been coming for a very long time.”

Magnus opened his great grimoire and traced his finger down the latest pages filled with his writings.

“An ancient prophecy of the Aegyptos speaks of a time in the far future when all is war and the god of the sky, Heru, is initially set to protect his people from chaos,” he read. “Much of that prophecy has been lost, but Heru turns on another god named Sutekh, a dazzling golden god, for dominion over all. In this form Heru was known as Kemwer, which means the Great Black One in the old tongue.”

“What do ancient legends have to do with Horus Lupercal?” demanded Phosis T’kar.

“Heru is but one of the names of an even older god, whose name can be translated as Horus,” said Magnus. “The clues have been there all along, if only we had the wit to see them. Alas for so much has been lost. Even as we expand our knowledge, we forget so much.”

“Does the prophecy say any more?” asked Uthizzar. Magnus nodded.

“It tells that neither side will be victorious, but says that many of Horus’ brother gods sided with him in the struggle,” he said. “If Horus wins, he will become known as Heru-Ur, which means Horus the Great. Should Sutekh lose, his land will become barren and desolate for all time.

“The early tales of the god Horus say that during a new moon, he would be blinded and was named Mekhenty-er-irty, which translates as He who has no Eyes. This was a very dangerous time, for until the moon rose again, Horus was a tremendously dangerous figure, oft-times attacking those who loved him after mistaking them for hated foes.”

“Why would Horus Lupercal do such a thing?” asked Amon. “What possible reason could there be?”

“An insult to his pride?” suggested Auramagma. “Ambition? Jealousy?”

“No,” said Ahriman, recognising emotions that would cause Auramagma to strike a brother. “Such things drive mortals to war, not primarchs. Something else is at the root of this.”

“Then what?” demanded Hathor Maat. “What madness could possibly make Horus Lupercal turn traitor?”

There. It had been said out loud, and only now did Ahriman dare look at Magnus. The primarch was dressed like a mortuary priest, and his shoulders were slumped in the manner of a man awaiting the executioner’s axe. Clad in a simple robe of crimson, and cloaked in a white shroud, Magnus waited for his sons to work through their emotions to a place of rationality.

Ahriman wished Magnus had not told them of his vision, for there was solace in ignorance. For the first time in his life, Ahriman wished to un-knowsomething.

Horus Lupercal was going to betray them all.

Even thinking the words seemed like a betrayal of the Warmaster’s honour and nobility.

“Well?” demanded Hathor Maat. “What could it be?”

“Something will take root in his soul,” said Ahriman, feeling the words come without conscious thought, as though he knew the answers, but didn’t have the right words to articulate them. “Something primordial and yet corrupt.”

“What does that even mean?” snapped Phosis T’kar. “You think a simple void-predator can violate the flesh of a primarch? Ludicrous!”

“Not violate, but I… I don’t know,” said Ahriman, looking directly at Magnus. “I don’t know, but on some level it is true. I am right, am I not?”

“You are, my son,” agreed Magnus sadly. “There is much I do not yet understand of what is happening to my brother, but time is running out to stop it. The Luna Wolves will soon be making war on a moon of Davin, and the fates are conspiring to fell Horus with a weapon of dreadful sentience. In his weakened and blinded state, the enemies of all life will make their move to ensnare his warrior heart. Without our intervention, they will succeed and split the galaxy asunder.”

“We have to warn the Emperor,” said Hathor Maat. “He has to know of this!”

“What would you have me tell him?” roared Magnus. “That his best and brightest son will betray him? Without proof, he would never believe it. He would send his war dogs to bring us to heel for employing the very means that have allowed us to know of this betrayal! No, there is only one option open to us. We must save Horus ourselves. Only if we fail do we take word to the Emperor.”

“What can we do to stop this?” asked Uthizzar. “Ask and we obey.”

“The works I have had you researching since Nikaea hold the key to Horus Lupercal’s salvation,” said Magnus. “With your help, I will project myself across the warp and shield my brother from his enemies.”

“My lord,” protested Amon. “That evocation will require power of undreamed magnitude. I am not even certain such a thing can be done. Nothing we have found is conclusive in how effective such a ritual could be.”

“It mustbe done, Amon. Begin assembling the thralls,” ordered Magnus. “Bind their power to mine and they will fuel my ascent.”

“Many will not survive such a ritual,” said Ahriman, horrified at the casual disregard in which Magnus held their lives. “To burn out so many thralls will cost us greatly.”

“How much greater the cost if we do nothing, Ahzek?” said Magnus. “I have made my decision. Assemble the coven in the Reflecting Caves in three days.”

THE BILL ARRIVED without them asking for it, and Lemuel signed the credit slip. He had a pleasant buzz from the wine and saw that Kallista and Camille were just as mellow. The food had been exquisite and the service attentive. Once again Voisanne’s had lived up to its reputation, and the afternoon had passed in a wonderfully convivial manner.

“Thank you, Lemuel,” said Kallista. “Very kind of you.”

“Not at all. Two such lovely ladies should never have to pay a bill.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Camille with a nod.

They pushed their chairs back and stood as the staff cleared their plates and glasses.

“So where are you off to now?” asked Camille.

“I think a stroll around the market before I head back to my quarters,” said Lemuel. “I have some passages of Rosenkreutz’s Varna Fraternitatisto read before my instructions with Ahriman tomorrow, and after two bottles of wine, it may take a few readings to sink in.”

“What kind of book is it?” asked Kallista.

“Its about a monk who told of supernatural beings that move unknown among us, and have done since the earliest days of civilisation, healing the sick and studying the laws of nature for the betterment of mankind.”

“Riveting stuff,” said Camille, gathering her belongings.

“It is actually,” said Lemuel, warming to the subject. “It appeals to the very best in human nature. After all, what could be nobler than the idea of helping one’s fellow man without thought for reward or material gain? Wouldn’t you agree, Kallista? Kallista?”