"Father."
Horus stood atop the dais, only a few steps from the source of that radiance.
He gazed up at the Emperor. The Master of Mankind's figure was reflected in his golden eyes, along with the blazing fire of his entire soul.
A thousand words crowded his chest.
The blood oath on Ullanor, the nights of self-doubt, his hunger for recognition, his dread of responsibility, his promises to his brothers, his boundless ambition for the Imperium's future...
Yet all of it finally became a single word, primal, sincere, and heavy beyond measure, uttered through his faintly trembling lips:
"Father."
The Emperor watched him in silence.
Slowly, unmistakably, a smile appeared on that face shrouded in light.
Unlike his earlier composure or expectation, this smile was more complex, holding a profound, almost divine understanding and quiet contemplation.
The Emperor's gaze pierced Horus's impassioned exterior, as though he could see every vibrating string deep within his soul, every entanglement of light and shadow.
He simply watched without speaking, yet it seemed he had already answered everything.
"Horus."
The Master of Mankind spoke his name in a steady voice, as though setting the seal of fate upon this moment.
Just then, two shadows that almost blended into the background emerged soundlessly from the radiance behind the Emperor, taking their places on either side. On the left stood Malcador, clad in plain black robes, his face gaunt but his eyes as deep and wise as an ancient well: the Imperium's Sigillite, the Emperor's longest-serving servant and adviser.
On the right stood Constantin Valdor, the Captain-General and guardian of the Emperor's palace, his golden armor resplendent, his posture straight as a spear, his silence exuding unmatched majesty.
Their appearance did not steal the scene. Instead, as the most authoritative witnesses and aides, they lent this