Lorgar's voice rang through the silent Bridge, low and measured, yet seemingly laden with the weight of a stellar core.
He maintained that extraordinary half-kneeling posture, his golden eyes slowly passing over every face frozen in shock before him. There was no condescension in his gaze, only an unflinching appraisal and a profound trust.
"I will make no excuses for any of my mistakes, my sons."
"Leaving you was a grave strategic misjudgment. I will bear all its consequences and pay the price I owe."
He paused briefly. In his double-pupiled eyes, divine radiance mingled with human remorse in a resolve that bordered on compassion.
"And that price," his voice suddenly deepened, like an oath, like a prophecy.
"Will be for me to sever Saladin's head with my own hands and erase every traitor of the Second Legion from the stars."
Then his tone shifted. His gaze passed over his loyal commanders, and through that gravity came a solemn question, asked of equals:
"Now, are you still willing to follow me?"
"To share with me the glory of the victory that will surely come, steeped in blood..."
He looked around at them all, his voice utterly calm, yet bearing immense weight.
"Or to die alongside me, at the end of our pursuit of truth and purification?"
He paused briefly, as though granting them a moment to consider. Then that majestic, resonant voice delivered his final request in a tone that was almost imploring:
"My... noblest, most merciful sons, of whom I am most proud."
"I ask you to allow me to stand at your side once more, to fight shoulder to shoulder, never to turn away, until death parts us."
"If you consent..." Lorgar still held the Ritual Longsword in both hands, that symbol of authority and oaths.
"I would