The Lion's beastly instincts had been correct. A horrifying riot had indeed erupted aboard the Invincible Reason.
The third surviving primarch, who had never shown himself—the wraith lurking aboard the Lion's flagship—had seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The Lion had left the flagship to meet Guilliman on the surface of Macragge. That meant the hunter and prey aboard the Invincible Reason were about to switch roles.
After hiding for so long within the Invincible Reason's shadowy conduits, the Night Haunter had finally seen, within the visions that had tormented him all his life, the scene he had been waiting for.
The Lion, who had pursued him for over sixteen weeks, was now inside Guilliman's fortress. The Invincible Reason hung in low orbit over Macragge, and its layers of orbital defenses were at their weakest.
The time had come.
The Night Haunter hated his gift of prophecy. Those nightmare-like omens that clung to him without end had continually tortured his mind. He had witnessed the galaxy burning, that bleak future without hope, and the human Imperium struggling desperately in hell.
Whenever he saw a new face, prophecy told him that person's fate. Everything was ordained by destiny. His entire life was a tragedy from which there was no escape.
If death could be foreseen, then it had no meaning.
"I am Konrad Curze. I am the Night Haunter." The figure in the darkness spoke to himself, more like he was reciting an incantation, a prayer, a sentence.
"My brothers understand this dark fate no better than I do. The Great Crusade was destined to fail. My father's great work would ultimately become a dream and a bubble, just like his ship. Even without Horus, someone else would have raised the tide of rebellion."
Those omnipresent prophecies, those visions indistinguishable from reality, showed