"Damn it!"
Dammekos, possessed by Unasis, sat upon the throne beneath the fortress, his body trembling slightly with rage.
His body, already transformed by the power of the Warp, now radiated a suffocating pressure. Black markings writhed across his skin, crawling over his body like living things.
He sensed that someone had shattered the illusion he had prepared specifically for Perturabo.
That meticulously woven illusion, powerful enough to drag a Primarch into its depths—that trap into which he had poured so much power and effort—had been forcibly broken from outside at the very last moment, just as it was about to capture its prey.
It felt like a predator that had already sunk its teeth into its prey's throat, only to receive a vicious kick from the side and be forced to release the meal already in its jaws.
Humiliated and enraged, Unasis slammed his palm down, smashing the throne's armrest beside him.
The armrest, carved from black stone, instantly shattered into countless fragments that flew in every direction, their sharp impacts ringing through the dim hall.
The fragments landed on the floor, bouncing and rolling through the empty hall before finally falling still.
"Lorgar Aurelian..."
Unasis's voice echoed through the hall, laden with the teeth-grinding anger and resentment of someone whose triumph had been spoiled.
It could clearly sense the power that had shattered its beautiful illusion.
That power was searing and resolute, bearing a light like a candle kindled in the darkness. Though faint, it was enough to dispel the darkness it had so painstakingly woven.
It was the power of Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the Word Bearers and Perturabo's brother.
The Primarch who had been gravely wounded in the battle of Prospero, who was said to be barely clinging to life, somehow still had enough strength to