"We have come to the place where Horus fell, but we are too late." The Angel stepped forward and touched the dried bloodstains on the altar slab.
He could imagine Horus lying unconscious here, the demigod's body unable to heal the wound inflicted by the Anathame. The bleeding Wolf Lord had been nearing death. Perhaps Horus had even called for his father in his delirium.
Yet Horus received no answer. His life had steadily ebbed away, and in their desperation, they had chosen to place their faith in this heretical voodoo temple.
Everyone felt ill at ease. Though they hated the harm Horus had caused, they had to admit that Horus might have been a victim as well.
The Horus of old had shone like the sun, warming his brothers. He might have had his own selfishness and weaknesses, but those only made him more human, rather than a demigod.
"So what, Sanguinius? Horus fell here, yet nothing has happened to us at all. This place is empty."
"If you are right, then after all the hardship we went through to get here, were we supposed to face the same trial as Horus?"
"But there is no trial. There is nothing. What happened in the past has already happened. No one can undo it, and we have come here for nothing!"
The Lion roared furiously, and the brief moment of reason he had regained showed signs of vanishing again.
"This place is too clean. Nothing has been left behind. I think that is itself a form of deliberate concealment," Lox analyzed.
Even a place corrupted by Chaos should have contained some strange creatures of the Warp, shouldn't it? But what about this place? Everything was deathly silent. Chaos was never silent; it was a state of disorder. Therefore, everything here