Baby Fulgrim listened quietly. Sorrow welled like a tide in his violet eyes. He was too small. He could not speak. He could not comfort this "child" of his, who had been fallen for ten thousand years.
All he could do was slowly raise his tiny hand.
From several yards away, he pointed at Mace. Then he made a soothing gesture.
Mace understood. He stopped crying. Looking at that gesture, he suddenly... smiled. It was a smile of release, of acceptance, steeped in endless sorrow.
"Thank you... Father," Mace whispered. "She keeps whispering in my head. I... I can't go back."
He raised his head and looked at Horus, who had remained silent, as imposing as a mountain. "Before I... before I turn into that again..."
Bracing himself with his intact hand, Mace pushed himself up and knelt on the floor before Horus.
"Warmaster." Mace bowed his head. "No... no matter who you are. Whether you're a ghost or a phantom. Please... keep him safe. Protect... our Phoenix."
Horus said nothing.
"In exchange..." Mace abruptly raised his head, a flash of Astartes resolve in his eyes. "There's an intact Stormbird in Hangar Three on the top level of the base! I... I changed the ship's biometric authorization... to the Gene-Father!! This... this is my atonement..."
Mace unfastened a Dataslate from his waist, worked it rapidly, then tossed it at Horus's feet.
Horus bent down, picked up the Dataslate, and said in a low voice, "Your atonement... he accepts it."
Mace looked as though a weight had been lifted from him.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
"Thank you."
He took one last look at baby Fulgrim. "To... to see you again... before I die... I'm glad."
"Do it, Warmaster." Mace, this warrior of the Emperor's Children, lifted his head, exposing his