Giving It Everything!

Have you ever seen this scene in the hazy, tangled strands of your dreams?

O my king of dark brown hair, have you ever worried? When would those dark brown eyes of yours, gazing into the abyss, reflect the truth of humanity?

You were too tired, too weary. It was time for you to step down. Step down, my king.

And your wayward child would inherit the Imperium—becoming the king you once were, or taking on his likeness.

It did not matter.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Neos spoke quietly. He sat at the very center of the long table, surrounded by everyone else. The Emperor, already caught in the net, spread his hands over the pristine white tablecloth.

"You're only getting a bad feeling now? Your prophecy came rather late today, my friend."

Malcador wore a remarkably innocent expression. The silver-haired youth swirled the wine in his hand while mocking the Emperor beside him.

Did you expect some Chaos god to suddenly descend upon Terra, defeat the Underking, and then rescue you?

Sanguinius said with a smile, elegantly holding a wineglass filled with thick, blood-red liquid.

The Archangel took a sip.

At least Khorne would not be coming today.

Sanguinius said it outright. She opened her eyes, revealing a sea of crimson beneath them, with vampire-like vertical pupils appearing within her gaze.

Nor would Nurgle.

The Pale Lord spoke flatly. Mortarion had unusually removed his gas mask, and his pallid face reflected the sheen of an insect's carapace. Her mouth looked more like an imitation crack, while her true feeding apparatus rested at her throat.

As Mortarion spoke, she toyed with the filthy wine bottle in her hand.

Wait, why are you looking at me?!

Magnus suddenly shouted. The Primarchs' gazes made her uncomfortable, but