Lox had lost count of how many times he had walked this passage before.
Yet this time, led by Glaud, it seemed especially long. Lox felt somewhat uneasy. The legendary Angel, Sanguinius, was waiting for him.
Aside from the two Primarchs whose very existence had been utterly erased, Lox had studied every Primarch—their origins, their experiences, the paths their lives had taken.
And even among all his brothers, this Angel was the most extraordinary.
The most obvious distinction was that every account mentioned how the Angel Sanguinius possessed a pair of enormous, pure-white feathered wings, like the angels of myth.
For the present-day Imperium of Man, someone growing a pair of wings would most likely not result in being worshipped as holy. Instead, they would be met with the flames of a phosphex flamer.
It signified genetic mutation, or more likely, contamination by the Warp. If Sanguinius had not been one of the Primarchs, he would likely have been burned to death.
I remember that Sanguinius landed on Baal, a world blanketed in clouds of radioactive dust. He endured countless hardships, eventually became the leader of Baal's tribes, and successfully repelled the mutants grotesquely transformed by nuclear radiation. When the Emperor finally arrived, Sanguinius swore fealty to Him and returned to the Ninth Legion.
Lox recalled what he knew of Sanguinius. He was excited, but also somewhat apprehensive.
He was curious whether Sanguinius truly was as flawless as the rumors claimed.
He pushed open a golden door inlaid with glittering gemstones. Red carpets covered the newly restored court, while the smooth walls of marble and gold reflected the sunlight refracted down from the heavens, bathing the entire palace in light.
Sanguinius sat upon the throne at the center. A group of unfamiliar-looking Sanguinary Guard in golden armor stood watch around