Ahriman stiffened all over at the question and asked in return, "You... don't remember any of this?"
"Remember what?"
Ahriman now understood the condition of these Thousand Sons. Their memories had remained in that glorious era of the Great Crusade. His lips moved, countless words brewing on the tip of his tongue, but news of the Horus Heresy and everything that followed was tightly barred behind his teeth.
Should he tell them? Did he dare? Ahriman understood the Space Marines' longing for victory in the Great Crusade. Even he and Magnus had once imagined the peaceful, leisurely days to come. If things had not turned so terrible afterward, he would not have thrown himself into the Eye of Terror and never looked back.
If they learned now that the Great Crusade had failed, of the horrors of brothers slaughtering brothers, what would they think? Could their minds endure such pain?
Ahriman was consumed by anxiety. Facing these confused brothers was worse than having Magnus kill him. So he turned his gaze toward Magnus, indicating that, as a Primarch, he should shoulder this responsibility.
Magnus was no fool. He understood matters as clearly as Ahriman did. If these Thousand Sons had retained their memories from before they became puppets, he would have known how to handle them. But now...
"My children." Magnus dropped to one knee, making the Thousand Sons even more fearful and uneasy. "Many things have happened. Please allow me to explain them slowly."
Several hours passed. Magnus gave the Thousand Sons a complete account of history. They remained silent throughout, only speaking again after he had finished, their voices trembling as they questioned him.
"The Great Crusade failed? How could that be..."
"Warmaster Horus rebelled... I cannot imagine such a sight..."
"We are traitors... a pack of butchers..."