The Great Rift had torn the Imperium apart.
Countless monsters from the Old Night and Daemons had emerged into realspace, hungrily harvesting human souls and flesh.
The appearance of the Great Rift had brought immeasurable suffering to worlds across the Imperium.
The raging storms had made Warp travel exceedingly difficult, leaving countless star systems unable to contact the Imperium as vulnerable as sea creatures stranded on a beach.
Mutants and Psykers had also multiplied drastically. If suppression was even slightly delayed, an entire world could fall into the abyss and become ruled by those loathsome Mutants.
Yet to the Emperor's enemies, it was a welcome blessing.
The servants of Chaos reveled in an unprecedented surge of Ether.
The winds of Ether had caused large numbers of humans to mutate, granting them powerful magic and supernatural abilities without the need for training, while making them ever more extreme and wicked.
They recklessly absorbed and wielded this power, constantly trying to undermine the order of every planet and seize the right to rule humanity, causing countless rebellions and bloodshed.
None of that was the most terrifying part.
In the void, countless sorcerers, wild Psykers, and Mutants were all heading toward one place.
Their destination was a planet that should not have existed in realspace—Planet of the Sorcerers.
Sheets of twisted energy tore through the darkness, bathing Planet of the Sorcerers in dark purple light.
Dark clouds churned across the heavens, while colossal tornadoes linking sky and earth emerged across the planet's surface, rumbling forward and sweeping up everything in their path.
This planet was inhabited by Daemons, abominations, and cursed things.
Creatures born from Tzeentch's mad imaginings flourished upon this world.
Herds of Tzaangors hunted amid razor-sharp cliffs and forests formed from the twisted bodies of failed followers.
Wandering Daemon Engines roamed