The bridge of the Chaos warship was dimly lit, as though the entire hall were submerged in bottomless water.
The decorations had long since been stripped from the bulkheads, exposing their rough metal framework. A few faulty lights flickered in the gaps in the ceiling, intermittently illuminating the figure seated in the command chair.
The figure wore a dark hooded robe, its hood pulled so low that it concealed almost his entire face, leaving only a firm jaw exposed.
His hands rested folded before his knees. His fingers were long and strong, with several dark rings on them. The crest on one ring's face had been deliberately ground away.
The image of Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, glowed on the man's communications screen.
Lion El'Jonson's voice came through the communicator with a steady trust. Unlike the decisiveness with which he issued deployment orders, his tone now held a gentleness reserved for an elder close to him.
The figure listened, nodding from time to time, an occasional glimmer flashing beneath the shadow of his hood.
"Rest assured, Lion El'Jonson," he said. "I will watch over Caliban."
The connection ended.
The blue light vanished from the screen, and the bridge sank back into gloom.
Luther remained seated in silence for a long time.
He slowly raised his fingers and touched the edge of his hood. Once he had made certain his face was still concealed, he rose, the hem of his robe flowing silently across the floor like dark water.
The man was none other than Luther, Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Dark Angels, who had first discovered Lion El'Jonson on Caliban.
The Commander-in-Chief of the Dark Angels, Lion El'Jonson's adoptive father on Caliban, the man Lion El'Jonson trusted most—he had betrayed the Imperium.
No one knew when it had begun.