The Thousand Sons' flagship, the Gloriana-class Battleship Radiance.
The bridge's dome was carved from a single piece of psychically reinforced crystal, a translucent, faintly luminous milky white that filtered the soft light of distant stars and cast it throughout the chamber.
The floor beneath their feet was also laid with crystal, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the light and shadows of the dome above and the silhouette of everyone on the bridge, as though the entire warship had been built from solidified light.
A faint scent hung in the air, like a mixture of ozone and lavender—the distinctive trace left by prolonged psychic activity.
Magnus stood before the enormous viewing window at the front of the bridge, his single eye gazing through the transparent crystal barrier into the black void dotted with stars beyond.
His gaze was deep and distant, as though it pierced the surface of the physical universe and perceived something deeper hidden behind the starlight.
He wore a plain white robe without any adornment. It shone with a gentle lustre beneath the soft light spilling from the dome, making his crimson skin and enormous single eye all the more striking.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he stood motionless like a statue lost in contemplation, and had done so for a long time.
"How is... Lorgar doing?" Magnus finally asked, his voice calm and low, as though he had only just emerged from a long reverie.
He did not turn his head. His gaze remained on the stars beyond the window, as though he were asking about something that had nothing to do with him.
Ahriman stood beside Magnus, clad in the Thousand Sons' signature red power armour, its plates engraved with golden runes and psychic circuits.
He held an elaborately decorated staff, its head set