Fulgrim stood in his lavishly decorated legion office. Starlight streamed through the tall arched windows, casting dappled light and shadow across the polished marble floor.
His fingers gently caressed the weapon Ferrus Manus had just sent him, a longsword forged from purple metal. Its blade bore a deep violet hue, like the midnight sky, with delicate silver patterns flowing across its surface like stars glittering in the night.
The metal felt cool and smooth, yet held a strange, faint warmth, almost like a living thing, as though a feeble heart were beating within the blade.
He savored the weapon's warmth.
It was not ordinary heat conducted through metal, but something deeper, a warmth that seemed to come from the very soul of its maker.
The care and emotion Ferrus Manus had poured into forging the sword with his liquid-metal hands seemed to linger within its blade, passing through Fulgrim's fingertips and into his heart.
Fulgrim closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, immersing himself in the pleasure of its touch and warmth as though savoring some precious perfume.
"Thank my brother Ferrus Manus for me." He opened his eyes, his gaze settling on the purple blade, his voice filled with the admiration and satisfaction of someone appreciating a work of art.
"This is the finest gift I have ever received."
He slowly raised the sword, holding its blade upright before him, then tilted his head slightly and gently pressed his cheek against the cold metal.
The instant the metal touched his skin, a cool sensation washed over him, like a summer morning breeze brushing his cheek.
He lightly drew his cheek along the blade, feeling its perfect curve and smooth surface glide across his skin.
Within the blade's chill, he could feel the warmth that came from Ferrus Manus.