Segmentum Solar, Nikaea system.
The Shadow's Sovereignty hung in high orbit above Nikaea. Nareth, accompanied by Chief Librarian Thomas, High Chaplain Pat, and Standard Bearer Ghurgur, boarded a Stormbird.
He had chosen a Stormbird, not for battle, but because this new star was unstable.
Nelson, the Primarch's personal pilot, lifted the black Stormbird from the flight deck, immediately encountering a murky cloud-shroud obscuring the surface.
The cockpit's control panel was a sea of flickering indicators. Vector lines flashed in and out of existence, sketching the shattered terrain below.
He glanced at the report from the Auger Master: [Atmosphere laced with volcanic ash.]
The "Winner" pushed the stick forward. The black iron bird plunged into the brown lightning-storm.
Nelson, with a "Calamity Priest's" perspective, watched the continents below tear apart, then slam together.
Shockwaves rippled through the mantle, running rampant. The impact churned the atmosphere.
Nelson slammed the throttle to the stop. The black iron bird accelerated, diving.
Thunder rolled. Acid rain poured down.
Nelson, with a "Calamity Priest's" skill, guided the Stormbird through the lightning and acid rain.
He calmly accepted the telemetry from the control tower, confirming the landing approach, until the guidance rune overlapped with the target point, and the ground-based Custodes took over control.
Nareth stepped down the ramp, his boots meeting the black basalt, formed by volcanic eruption.
He followed the cold gaze that fell upon him. An iron-grey Stormbird, covered in rust, looked as if it had fought for centuries without maintenance.
Beside Leman Russ stood a frail form, seeming to rattle with every move.
Ohthere Wyrdmake, Rune Priest of the 5th Great Company, his mechanical leg striking the landing pad, thought with contempt. 'Sorcery!'
Russ strode to Nareth, lowering his voice, "Nareth, the Librarius you championed will meet its end today."
"The Emperor will decide," Nareth said, ignoring Russ's probing gaze as he walked towards the volcanic cone.
Russ frowned, leading Kva and Wyrdmake as they followed Nareth into the heart of the stratovolcano.
The smooth, polished tunnels, carved by Martian tech-priests with melta equipment, were wide enough for three Primarchs to walk abreast.
But the black and iron-grey columns walked in silence, one behind the other.
Thomas walked to the left of the Standard Bearer, who held the Legion's battle standard high. His ever-open "Eyes of Mystery Prying" scanned their surroundings. Behind their group, a hundred Space Wolves followed.
He also saw, from two other directions, the Emperor's Children, in their resplendent purple-gold armor, led by Lord Commanders Eidolon and Akurduana, flanking the central group, which consisted of Magnus, Sanguinius, and Fulgrim.
On another side, representing the absent Jaghatai Khan, Stormseer Targutai Yesugei was overshadowed by Mortarion's massive form.
The telepath moved his mind, sending a psychic pulse to the Black Emperor.
"My Lord, Mortarion is beside Yesugei. Fulgrim's sons are surrounding the Thousand Sons."
"The Wolves look like prison guards."
Nareth smiled calmly, sending a pulse back. "Remain calm."
The Custodes pushed open the bronze doors at the tunnel's end. Nareth passed through, entering the vast hall carved into the volcano's steep walls.
He glanced at the Council of Terra members seated on black benches above, looking down.
Their excited emotions churned like spectators in a Roman arena, waiting to see gladiators torn apart.
Gogonada Peyarch, former Chief Iterator of the Emperor's Children, looked spry, but her spirit body was dim, nearing the end of her life.
At the summit of the pyramidal dais, the Emperor's radiance was blinding.
He sat upon a soaring eagle throne; the eagle's claws set with rubies. The Emperor's Sword, its energy field deactivated, lay across his knees. He held an Aquila-crested globe in his left hand.
Flanking him stood two figures: Captain-General Constantin Valdor, holding the Apollonian Spear.
The Regent Malcador, his frail form clutching his staff, looked at Nareth.
Kelbor-Hal, Fabricator General of Mars, sat on the other side, his bionic eyes scanning the room, ignoring the Primarchs without machine-hearts, his gaze lingering on Nareth before shifting away.
Beside him sat Nemo Zhi-Ming, Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, in his green robes, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Lauren Visccher, the Paternal Envoy of the Navis Nobilite, looked at Nareth, conveying the will of the Paternova of the Navigators.
Two of the five Lord Commanders of the Imperial Military, Haldane Ma'lon, Lord Commander of the Solar Auxilia, was motionless, while Barton Drake offered a steady gaze.
Nareth read their stances. 'Kelbor-Hal has some interest in me, but I have refused the Mechanicum's offer of sanctified mechanization. He clearly won't side with me.'
'Nemo Zhi-Ming is the same, based on mutual interests, he's made his stance clear in the Council of Terra, but he won't speak today. Neither will Kelsi Demidov, the Speaker for the Chartist Captains of the Merchant Fleets.'
'Visccher and Drake stand firmly with me.'
He walked towards the dais.
As Nareth reached the lowest level of the circular amphitheater, his gaze swept the many suspended boxes.
Each box was covered in distorted light, obscuring even his sight.
He could only make out vague silhouettes, among them Horus Lupercal.
The Warmaster wouldn't appear in person, which would only create conflict between himself, Nareth and Magnus.
Nareth looked back towards the dais. The Blood Angels, Emperor's Children, and Thousand Sons had already knelt at its foot.
Akurduana, Fulgrim's firstborn, knelt beneath a fluttering banner.
The former First Sword of the Palatine, his gaze swept over the banner bearing the personal emblem of his former master, the Palatine Aquila.
The Emperor's former First Palatine Sword silently repented in his heart. 'Forgive me, my Lord.'
He had, before his father's return, led the Palatine Swords in guarding the Master of Mankind, winning glory unique to the 3rd Legion.
The golden Palatine Aquila on the Emperor's Children's chests, distinct from the Imperial Aquila, was a mark of honor unique to the 3rd Legion.
He was the leader of the two hundred swordsmen who survived the war but he had stopped serving the False Emperor long ago, when the Black Emperor shattered the Palatine Aquila on his chest.
Hathor Maat, Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons, clad in Cataphractii Pattern Terminator Armor, repeated a hypnotic suggestion to himself.
'I was forced to submit. My Lord will surely forgive my blasphemy.'
Thomas, in the blinding golden light, reached the foot of the dais and knelt on the smooth, black floor, struggling to ascend to the Talemman state and find clarity.
Pat's crozius struck the ground, cracking it as he knelt in humiliation, screaming in his heart.
'False Emperor! Blasphemy! Heresy!'
Ghurgur, holding the Shadows of Order's battle standard, a gift from the Emperor, stood behind the Black Emperor, watching the Wolves kneel beside him.
'Russ, at least, isn't claiming he brought my Lord here.'
The "Guardian" felt the golden light pressing down upon him. He silently recited his oath to the battle standard.
Sanguinius's gentle voice broke the silence, and the golden light lifted from the black armor.
"I pay homage to the Master of Mankind; I have brought Magnus the Red, Primarch of the Thousand Sons."
"Rise."
The Emperor's voice broke the solemn silence. Pat nudged the pale-faced Thomas, rising first.
Akurduana and Hathor followed. Eidolon, Yesugei, Kva, Wyrdmake, and the other Astartes rose.
Malcador stepped onto the podium, holding a staff topped with an Aquila, much longer than his usual twin-headed eagle staff, resembling an old man's walking stick.
It had once belonged to the Emperor himself.
He cleared his throat. "Friends, we gather today at Nikaea to discuss a question that has troubled us since the Imperium's founding."
Malcador glanced at his notes and took a deep breath.
"We will discuss the matter of sorcery in the Imperium; to discuss the Librarius program."
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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