Today, more than a century after the end of the Horus Heresy, Abaddon finally stood before the Golden Throne, venting his hatred and fury upon the Emperor seated high upon it.
Ever since Horus had been defeated in his duel with the Emperor and all the rebels had fled in panic to the Eye of Terror, Abaddon had longed for this moment day and night.
It could be said that all his schemes, all his killings, all his sacrifices had been building toward this very moment.
He would accomplish what Horus had failed to accomplish. He would overthrow the Golden Throne. He would make the False Emperor bleed—or even die!
For that, he was willing to pay any price, including his soul and his life.
"This is Drach'nyen, the End of Empires, your nemesis!"
"Back in the War in the Webway, you made the Custodian Ra Endymion your scapegoat and had him take away the Empire's destruction. But did you ever think it would return?"
Abaddon laughed wildly, venting the resentment in his heart and releasing the hatred that had long since fermented and festered.
As he laughed, tears of blood even streamed from the Despoiler's eyes.
Ever since Horus had been assassinated and sent into the temple on Davin, Abaddon had never laughed so recklessly again.
He carried too much grief upon his back. Bit by bit, it had forced one of the Great Crusade's three heroes—a man who knew only how to lead from the front and charge first—into the cunning, scheming Chaos Warmaster he was today.
If he had been given a choice, he would never have wanted to become the Chaos Warmaster, the leader who commanded these traitors.
He missed those days beyond measure—Horus had led them on crusade across the galaxy, Sejanus had always made