Dear
Dazzling tawny light spilled across the salt flats of Argos, where a hundred crimson tents stood scattered, each housing a squad of Thousand Sons.
Beneath the scarlet canopy of one tent, Phosis T'kar, captain of the Second Fellowship of the Thousand Sons and Temple Master of the Falcon Sect, stared restlessly toward the center of the plain, at the majestic mountain range that rose thirty thousand meters high.
"It was not formed naturally. It was shaped out of nothing by some supernatural, mighty power."
"I agree." At the center, Hathor Maat, Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons and Temple Master of the Pavoni, nodded.
Even without any specialized knowledge of crustal uplift, orogeny, and compressive energy, common sense alone was enough to reach that conclusion.
"Father should have returned by now. Why hasn't he come back?" He looked to Hathor Maat, the Chief Librarian beside him.
"I don't know."
"Can you see him?" T'kar did not give up, pressing Ahzek Ahriman, the Temple Master of the Corvidae Cult standing on Hathor's other side.
"No." Ahriman shook his head. "The farthest I can see is the Death Stone."
"Aetpio is the same. A Guardian Spirit's sight can't pass beyond those stones either."
Those who lacked Aetheric Sight could not see Guardian Spirits.
In the eyes of the Thousand Sons, Guardian Spirits were, in general, beautiful, shining phantoms, but each one was vastly different.
Ahriman's Aetpio was delicate and exquisite, drifting and uncertain, with a halo that changed from moment to moment and bright eyes.
Hathor's Peouk was a soaring eagle formed from a million golden stars.
T'kar's Utipa was a brutal existence condensed from formless energy, as combative as he himself was.
Guardian Spirits were incarnations of aetheric power. They seized the mighty power of the Great Ocean directly, stronger