The warmth and weight of Purification merged into the Golden Light that filled the sky.
The Astartes stood in the corridor, leaning against the walls as they looked up at the sunlike Golden Light descending on them.
The Plague Marines' green pus had spread rapidly wherever it touched them. The poison gas of the Daemons of Nurgle made their lungs ache, and rot had been creeping inward from the edges of their wounds.
But once the Golden Light fell,
their wounds began to heal rapidly.
The rot stopped spreading.
Skin burned by the green pus went from black-purple to dark red, from dark red to pink, then back to its normal color. Torn muscles knitted together, and bleeding wounds closed and vanished.
The green fog smeared across their helmet lenses cleared. The world looked new again.
The mortals felt it even more keenly.
They lacked the Astartes' resilience and the protection of Power Armor. The poisonous fog had already seeped into their organs. Barely conscious, they clung to control levers or slumped in corners of the deck, waiting to die. They meant to fire the Lance with their last breath...
Then the Golden Light swept over them.
They had never seen anything like it.
Waiting to die? What were they talking about? Their backs no longer ached, their legs no longer hurt, and suddenly they had strength again.
The mortals pushed themselves up from their consoles and stared overhead, stunned.
It was the first miracle they had ever witnessed.
Not a legend sung in hymns, but a real miracle, just like the pictures in the Holy Scrolls. The God-Emperor had seen his people's suffering and sent them salvation.
Emperor...
Across the three Battle Barges, more and more mortals looked up at the Golden Light.
They raised their right hands, pressed