Saladin's will abruptly froze, as though seized by an invisible hand.
He "looked" at the figures emerging beside Lorgar amid the blazing white fire, burning in silence.
Their outlines, their stances, and above all the Power Armor whose details and insignia remained partly recognizable even beneath the flames...
They awakened a memory buried deep within Saladin's consciousness, one he desperately wanted to forget, yet which remained as clear as a brand.
One figure stood out with painful clarity.
The style of his armor, the distinctive heraldry of the Second Legion's 3rd Company still faintly visible on his shoulder plate through the flames.
And that stance, still straight as a spear even after he had become a fiery Heroic Spirit, that once painfully familiar air of resolve and loyalty emanating from his silence...
"Kras?"
Saladin was momentarily dazed.
He had been one of Saladin's finest commanders, and at the beginning of the Horus Heresy, when Saladin's ambition and betrayal first came to light, he had been the first loyalist to openly denounce him and swear allegiance to the Emperor unto death. Saladin had ultimately executed him with his own hands.
His had been the first blood of a "brother" Saladin had spilled after his fall, the moment he began severing himself completely from his past.
"Kras... you... why are you standing there?"
"Come back... come back to my side! Return to the Second Legion! The Legion is your eternal home!"
The burning figure gave no response.
Craston—or rather, the Heroic Spirit embodying the will of Craston and all the loyalists who had died because of Saladin's betrayal—simply stood quietly in the flames beside Lorgar. His "eyes," flickering with blazing white fire, "gazed" emptily in the direction of Saladin's will.
That silence cut deeper than any accusation or roar, its condemnation piercing