(This chapter is a side story unrelated to the main storyline.)
(4/20)
The dark Warp stretched through the void beyond the Shadow of the Emperor like a wound that had been torn open and could never heal.
Corax hung amid those shadows, his body suspended in the cold darkness without support or anything to anchor him.
Behind him, pitch-black wings spread wide.
They were enormous wings formed from condensed shadows, and as they slowly beat, the entire Warp churned with them.
Nebulae formed from pure Warp energy were stirred up, their colors swirling, colliding, splitting apart, then gathering once more.
Those wings were more than part of his body. They were like a doorway mounted upon his flesh, connecting his existence to the whole expanse of darkness.
His head had long since become that of a raven, its beak sharp and curved. His eyes lay deep in their sockets, like two empty black vortices in which almost no light could be seen.
He gazed into the depths of the dark stars, sensing a familiar power drawing near.
That power was like a wind that had blown for ten thousand years, drifting toward him through the layers of mist in the Warp.
It was neither hostile nor friendly, but more like an echo rising from ancient memories.
He could not precisely discern that power's shape, but he could feel the distance between them shrinking toward nothing.
Within those dark shadows, a familiar yet unfamiliar power approached him.
That power passed through the darkness of the Warp. Then, within those same shadows, another Corax drew near.
He was like a projection emerging from a black curtain, his silhouette almost completely identical to Corax's.
The same black wings, the same piercing gaze, the same silence and brooding gravity.
Countless black ravens appeared with