The Moment of Parting

"You may have lost some memories due to your secondary brain's update, but I remember clearly. The Black Legion that now makes the Imperium tremble was, thousands of years ago, nothing more than the delusion of a pack of madmen—a tiny warband barely held together by a few words from Abaddon."

As Khayon spoke, a sudden headache struck him. Once again, he saw phantom Reflections appear on the crate wall. Turning his head slightly, he saw familiar figures standing before cables and metal walls.

Falkus and his thirty brothers; Telemachon Lyr, the solitary swordsman captain of the Emperor's Children; Asaka, the White Seer, and one hundred and four brothers reduced to ashes; Leo and Urivan, artillery captains of the World Eaters Legion, along with four other surviving World Eaters.

By today's standards, they were a founding dream team. But to Khayon, this hastily assembled little group had been ridiculous. The fact that there were World Eaters who liked using boltguns at long range was enough material for countless jokes.

Khayon turned his head and saw himself in the reflection on the crate wall, clad in the cobalt-blue and golden armor of the Thousand Sons.

Nefertari stood beside Khayon, her black armor contrasting with her pale skin. Her wings lay close against her back rather than piercing into it. She leaned lightly on an overly ornate spear, a beautiful yet distant smile on her face.

Gyre stood on the other side, the white eyes of the spectral wolf eternally vigilant. But Khayon knew it was all false. Whenever Nefertari came close to him, he could feel the peaceful, sacred heart within her. That cold, strange aura of silence could soothe Khayon's mind.

But now, he sensed no one in the realm of the mind. He saw everything only through his own