The Tenacious weathered a storm of fire and delivered its final, deadly strike.
A Lance beam roared from the enormous cannon along the warship's spine, burned across the gap between the two vessels, and pierced the Blade Storm's blazing hull.
The void shield exploded, its destructive glare swallowing the blue Aether haze.
The Blade Storm shuddered along its axis, and its elegant white hull ceased its charge.
"Lock the coordinates." Mortarion's heart pounded. Anticipation was a sweet poison, intoxicating him.
"Send us over."
He gripped Silence and strode toward the Teleport platform.
Fourteen Deathshroud stood at their stations, their scythes shimmering with pale Disruption Fields.
More Death Guard took their places at the other Teleport points. Cataphractii Terminators gleamed dully beneath the harsh lights.
Mortarion would lead three hundred warriors in the first wave. They were the Legion's finest, the Primarch's Honor Guard.
Mortarion felt the sudden rise in temperature as the Teleport chamber reached full power.
He narrowed his eyes and savored the Aether power he had once despised.
Warp tides tore through reality in a blaze of dazzling light.
Scorching heat turned to bitter cold, and the briefly opened Aether passage rang with a piercing Shriek.
Mortarion's boots struck the metal deck. He tensed, wheeling around with his great scythe in hand.
The Deathshroud spread out, their helmet lenses flashing gray-green. Every one of them stood ready for the storm.
Emptiness answered them. The last Teleport beam vanished with a crack, leaving utter silence.
Mortarion advanced cautiously. The Blade Storm's bridge was empty, and no one occupied the throne.
He held his scythe across his chest in both hands and searched the shadows.
"Jaghatai, come out and face your toughest brother."
A video screen flickered on, revealing a figure in white armour.
"On the steppe, hospitality means a