When Lorgar arrived at Prospero, all that greeted him was Warfire.
The once beautiful, tranquil planet, that world built from blue and gold crystal and steeped in knowledge and magic, was burning.
Thick smoke from the explosions rose from every corner of the city, gathering into a gray-black shroud that blotted out the sun and stained Prospero's skies a suffocating dark gray.
Flames danced across the Crystal Towers that had once soared into the clouds, twisting their exquisite carvings and runes in the intense heat.
Shattered armor and weapons littered the streets. Dark red blood flowed through the gaps between the paving stones, gathering into tiny streams that followed the slope toward lower ground.
The air reeked of Smoke, blood, and Ozone, mingled with a nauseating odor like charred flesh.
Countless Landing Craft were ferrying troops from the warships in orbit to the surface. White, gray, and gold drop pods rained from the sky, smashing smoking craters into the ground.
On the ground, the gray-armored forces of the Space Wolves were locked in fierce firefights with the blue-clad psykers of the Thousand Sons. The roar of bolters and the crackle of psychic lightning echoed throughout the city.
In orbit, several golden warships of the Adeptus Custodes hung in the void, smoke still drifting from their guns. They had clearly just completed a round of orbital bombardment.
"Lorgar? Where have you been!"
Leman Russ's voice came over the communications channel, carrying a tangled mix of anxiety, anger, and relief.
The face of the Space Wolves Legion's lord appeared on the communications screen aboard the Law of Faith's bridge. Exhaustion and worry marked his rugged features, and dried blood clung to his beard.
"You've been missing for two months, do you know that? Why do you disappear every time something big happens?"