Be'lakor, You Lost It, Don't Even Think About Getting It Back

Inside the Navigator Sanctum of the Shadow of the Throne, there was only Visher, the chief navigator of the Shadow of Order.

His ornate headband was drawn up, revealing his third eye.

Visher's navigator eye gazed into the Warp.

All manner of emotions and sensations had gathered into a dense fog that even Psykers could not pierce, but his gifted eye allowed the mist to reveal traces of latitude and longitude.

Visher combined it with the star chart, merging the other side of the mirror with his own Warp image—a deep, dark canyon.

Visher focused in the way of a navigator, searching among countless paths for the one Lord Nimrod had specified.

The canyon was unnaturally deep, and the fog grew ever thicker. This road was hard to distinguish.

He opened his mind, his gifted eye widening to its limit.

The fog thinned rapidly, and bit by bit Visher made out the rises, falls, and edges within the canyon.

He fixed Viziaole on a hillside, then followed the contours of the hills, lingering as he searched for that narrow path.

Hiss!

Visher felt as if a slick tentacle, half real and half illusory, had coiled around his neck and climbed onto his eye.

He yanked down the silver band and shuddered in the empty, frost-covered sanctum.

Only after a long while did the vision gradually fade. Visher's clothes floated up, and he recited Visher's scripture.

Then the chief navigator switched on the Sonic Array Device. "Begin the Communion Rite!"

Deep within Sak-Trada, the dim light cast by the dark-gray star was almost black.

Amid the clicking of motors, the shutters descended, and Nimrod stood before the great viewing window, staring into the void.

Light and shadow flickered in the Primarch's eyes, his gaze piercing the emptiness.

The entire star