"What do you mean? Father, forgive my dullness, but I truly don't understand."
Horus's voice sounded utterly bewildered, and there was even a trace of unease hidden deep within it.
He seemed to have sensed something—at the very least, he did not look as though he truly failed to understand, as he claimed.
"They would not allow everything to develop as smoothly as I envisioned," The Emperor said slowly. "Whether it was your separation from me, or the acquired personalities shaped by your individual upbringings—none of that truly mattered."
In that moment, the genuine emotion he had shown only moments before vanished. He drew a cold mask up from the depths of his heart and set it over his face. Though cold, in some ways it inspired a sense of reassurance.
Absolute reason bred absolute security.
"In the ancient myths of Terra, there was a fire-stealer named Prometheus. He stole the flame of the gods, brought it to mankind, and scattered it across the earth. Only after mankind possessed fire did human civilization truly begin to be born."
"And you. You are the flames I stole from Their hands. Your essence belongs to the Warp; that is an indelible, immutable spirit within your souls. But I shaped you with human forms."
"I had intended to teach you everything, but I had no time. And even if I had had the time, I fear I still could not have changed everything. Your essence meant They could easily corrupt you, unless you remained under my gaze at every moment—but if so, what would have been the point?"
"An eagle that cannot fly has no need to survive, Father," Jaghatai said softly.
"Yes, Khan. Yes."
The Emperor smiled sadly. The smile vanished as quickly as it came, almost imperceptible, yet in the eyes