If We Cannot Rise from the Flames, Then Let Us Burn Ourselves Within Them

The fire burned, so scorching, so searing, blazing in from another dimension, blazing in from the realm of the dead, engulfing Saul's body in an instant.

Only the Forgebreaker Warhammer bathed in the flames, growing ever more dazzling, ever brighter, like a beacon standing upon the earth, calling for its former master.

A pair of broad hands reached out from the fire. Fire-serpents coiled around them, yet could not harm them in the slightest. Instead, they coated those hands in an orange furnace-glow, making the flowing silver metal upon them shine brilliantly.

Those hands seized the Forgebreaker Warhammer.

The modifications, corruption, and distortion Perturabo had imposed upon it were incinerated in an instant, revealing the Forgebreaker Warhammer as it had looked when first taken from the forge.

Pure, resilient, unyielding, like a piece of cold steel deep within the mountains, utterly unique among all Fulgrim's creations.

It bore no excessive decorations, no inlaid Gemstones or gilding, only a powerful simplicity.

Fulgrim still remembered looking upon Ferrus's body, illuminated by the fires of Mars, and being unable to resist using that man—whom he had found utterly boring at the time—as the model for this warhammer.

And that man had once again appeared before Fulgrim.

He stepped from the raging flames. Fire outlined his form: a body forever burning, ashes forming his muscles, fuel forming his bones, thick smoke becoming his armor.

His quicksilver hands raised Forgebreaker. Above his neck was a vague, phantom-like head outlined in firelight, gently swaying with the shifting glow and shadow.

Fulgrim let out a pained wail, his body trembling faintly.

Marius spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, pulled the Thallax Sword from his neck, and tried to stand before the burning giant to defend his Gene-Primarch.

"No." Fulgrim roared, "Marius, do not stop him. Let