Sanguinius: Azkaellon, First Blood

The graceful body of the craftworld Mag-Silas burned fiercely.

The worldship's Hive Spire-sized Spires poured down and rolled amid the flames.

Its crystal domes burned with psychic fire, spilling a deep, ghostly light.

The Blood Angels' Pugio-class Landers rumbled toward the target port, while the thrusters on the winged battering rams of the Caestus Assault Rams flickered with bright yellow light.

Sanguinius flew into the heavens, driving himself to top speed.

Behind him, feathers white as snow spread and burst open, vast wings sweeping into broad arcs that caught the air and mastered it effortlessly.

He wore no helm, his heroic face filled with resolve.

Radiant hair streamed in the void as he roared his challenge.

Sanguinius drew a strange red sword with a curved, barbed hilt, forged from the same source as the blade held by Horus, his close friend and brother far across the galaxy.

Thirteen companies of assault warriors followed close behind their Primarch, roaring jump packs on their backs.

At the center were the angel's Sanguinary Guard, their golden armor and white wings echoing his own brilliance.

The Guard's wings were cast from enameled metal, and the orange flames spat by their searing transfiguration engines drove them racing through the void.

With an impact greater than a Titan bombardment, Sanguinius slammed down.

His war boots struck the flagstones, sending a perfect circular ripple radiating out from him.

Azkaellon, captain of the Sanguinary Guard, dropped down close behind the Primarch and looked around warily.

Holo-fields mingled with the clouds, and strange organic leaves rustled and swayed.

From within the murky supernatural fog, a layered attack suddenly struck.

Dark clouds gathered overhead, and a drifting downpour came crashing down.

Amid the unsettling howl of the wind, the air was thick with the smell of ozone.

Pulse lasers and