Under Maloghurst's soul-burning strike, the last fragment of goodness in Horus's soul was finally annihilated.
His desperate sacrifice made Horus's shattered soul whole again, pulling him back from the brink of bleeding to death.
But in a sense, Horus had also lost his free will from that moment onward. He had completely become a slave to Chaos.
Right or wrong, the outcome had already been decided. Maloghurst, Horus's chief equerry and his most loyal, fanatical son, perished in exchange for his father's "recovery" and "healing."
For his father and master to continue his great work, Maloghurst spared no cost. Whether Horus was willing to accept that cost, however, had never entered his calculations.
Having regained consciousness, the Warmaster once again issued orders to every allied warship through a holographic projection.
"Rally at Ullanor!"
Horus's personal appearance instantly crushed countless rumors, and the restless morale throughout the rebel camp immediately stabilized.
That was an ability unique to Horus. Only his prestige could make the overwhelming majority of the vast rebel faction pledge themselves anew with a single sentence.
But that did not mean everyone felt the same.
On the bridge of the Trisagion, the Great Word Bearer sat cross-legged atop a massive Blackstone altar, surrounded by candles made from human blood and fat.
Farther away, the Dark Apostle Layak and Erebus, Hand of Destiny, sat solemnly in prayer.
They recited scriptures written by Lorgar, offering boundless reverence and devotion to the Primordial Truth that existed beyond mortal sight.
Then, without the slightest warning, the slowly burning candles abruptly went out.
"He succeeded. Maloghurst fulfilled his mission. He drove the ritual dagger into Horus's body and returned our Wolf Lord and Warmaster completely to the embrace of the Warp."
The Dark Apostle spoke through a mask that drew every gaze toward it.