On Colchis, Lorgar returned to the ruins.
Golden light spilled like dawn over the collapsed ramparts and shattered stone paths.
The light was not blinding, yet it carried a warmth that cleansed the soul, enveloping the broken walls strewn across the ground.
The Chaos energy that had ravaged this place not long ago had dissipated completely, and the lingering stench of decay gradually faded beneath the light.
Lorgar walked through the ruins at an unhurried pace, the hem of his white robe brushing over shattered masonry without picking up a speck of dust.
"Father?"
A trembling call came from the edge of the ruins.
Hercules emerged from behind a broken archway, his armor still bearing the dents and bloodstains of the brutal battle.
Behind him, Rockefeller, Seras, and the others hurried over as well.
They moved even more urgently than Hercules, all but stumbling as they ran through the ruins, crossing every obstacle just to draw a little closer to that figure.
"Father!"
When they reached Lorgar and finally saw his face clearly, they all froze.
It was a face that stole their breath.
If there was any way to describe it, they could only say that Lorgar now looked like a god—far too much like one.
Whether it was the six golden wings spread behind him, his long black hair drifting gently in the light, or that merciful face suffused with divinity, any one of them was enough to make someone hold their breath the instant they looked upon him.
His features were little different from what they remembered, yet now they seemed to have been sculpted anew by some higher power.
His eyes were deep and gentle. There was not a trace of exhaustion or resentment in his brow, only serene love and compassion.
The corners of his