The sky was falling.
A vast expanse of white light flooded his entire vision. It was not merely sight—his hearing, smell, touch—all outward senses became painfully bright white. The souls of the High Heavens screamed as they wandered within it, yet only whiteness and pain endured.
It was over.
That was the first thought to surface in Guilliman's mind, and the firmest—the one he now believed was most correct.
Nearly half of the Outsider was barreling straight toward them. Even if it had been nothing but stone, something of that mass would have brought catastrophe, let alone half a C'tan.
Guilliman raised his head—
Drawn by the gravity of the fallen god's shattered body, sky, earth, above, and below had become impossible to distinguish. Was the ground sturdy enough to stand on above his head, or beneath his feet?
Guilliman could no longer tell. After the violent jolting, he could not describe whether he was still standing safely on the ground or had been flipped upside down, falling alongside the Outsider descending upon them.
When two colossal, celestial bodies collided, the ants caught between them could only shriek their way toward death amid the turbulent gravitational fields.
Falling—falling. The god struck down by the Endless One fell into the altar.
On the side of the once-spherical planet facing the falling Outsider, spires made of shattered rock rose up. Continental plates dragged into the air floated beyond the atmosphere, pulled toward the Outsider. Their towering tips were gradually crushed and swallowed by the descending Outsider.
Crack...
A sound that shook the entire earth arose. Like the first muted rumble of spring thunder, it was long and deep, yet not loud—dull, signifying that something had been permanently changed.
Guilliman watched in horror as cracks appeared beneath the foundations of all thirteen Blackstone