"What is it, Abaddon?"
Horus walked over to Abaddon, his steps gentle and steady, like a father approaching a son he had not seen in years.
He stopped beside Abaddon, turned, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him before the tall window, gazing at the full moon hanging in Talon's night sky.
Then he reached out, just as a father would to his son, and gently laid his broad palm, covered in calluses and scars, on Abaddon's shoulder.
The warmth of that palm passed through Abaddon's clothes to his skin, warm as a campfire.
"I know about your conflict with Brutus. I know you're unhappy, and I know how hard it has been to adjust to the future after sleeping for more than a decade."
Horus's voice echoed through the quiet reception room, gentle and patient, as though he were comforting a wounded child.
His gaze remained on the full moon outside, but his hand stayed on Abaddon's shoulder.
"It's all right. All of that is perfectly normal. Anyone who woke after sleeping for more than a decade to find that everything had changed—the Legion's name, its colors, even their former position taken by someone else—would struggle to adjust. They would feel lost and angry."
He paused, then turned to look at Abaddon's profile, his voice growing softer. "It's all right. I'll stay by your side. However long you need to adjust, whatever help you need, I'll be there. You are one of the sons I am proudest of, Abaddon. That has never changed."
He fell silent for a moment, then spoke slowly, his voice heavy with something like confession. "I wronged you, Abaddon... My pride led me to change the great name of the Luna Wolves to the Sons of Horus."
"At the time, I thought it would elevate