As Guilliman cried out in silent prayer, what he did not know was that, in The Empyrean, one of his brother primarchs had truly heard his call.
Amid the chaotic Warp storm, a magnificent warship led its fleet through the raging waves of the Sea of Souls.
Ordinarily, even a Gloriana-class Battleship should have struggled through such a terrifying storm, narrowly avoiding the catastrophic damage it brought.
Yet this black Gloriana displayed an incredible ability to suppress it. As though shrouded by some mysterious force, it all but ignored the dreadful storm, charging through it at full speed.
This was the fleet of the First Legion. More than twenty thousand elite Dark Angels had escaped the war at Saramas and were desperately seeking a way out of the Warp.
The Gloriana-class Battleship known as the Invincible Reason was no longer merely the flagship of the Dark Angels Legion. In a sense, it had become a massive prison.
Vast sections within the warship had been completely sealed off by lowered blast doors and mechanical barriers. All mortals had been cleared out, and even the Servitors responsible for maintenance had been ordered by the Tech-priests to stay far away from that forbidden region.
Every sound of life had vanished. The only sounds echoing through the sealed compartments were the ticking and whirring of ancient instruments and operating systems.
A fully armed giant waited silently within the pitch-black hold.
All lighting had been shut down, the power cut, the space isolated. But he did not need light. The darkness made him feel more comfortable.
Damp, shadowy air, heavy with the smell of metal, passed through his armor's filters and entered his enhanced nostrils and lungs.
He was a hunter, a master of the hunt far beyond any Astartes. He could smell the damned