Deathly silence settled over the mine once more. Only the heavy breathing of the four Space Marines remained, along with the baby's babbling, still clear and seemingly full of laughter.
Malakai leaned on his Power Sword and surveyed the Ork corpses strewn across the ground. He looked at the Orks who had died in all manner of bizarre ways, then at his brothers, who were almost entirely unscathed. Finally, his gaze settled on the baby Lion El'Jonson had wrapped in a clean banner.
This baby had been creating miracles from the moment he was born.
For any Chapter, this would have been a blessing from the Emperor, an unsurpassed honor. But for the Sons of Sorrow, its significance weighed so heavily upon them that they could barely breathe.
They were a cursed Chapter. Their gene-seed carried an inexplicable flaw. Alongside Sanguinius's noble character and gift for battle, they had inherited an eternal misfortune that seemed woven into their very nature. Every campaign they fought, no matter how valiantly, always ended in tragedy. They always won, yet always lost more. They always saved others, yet fate always betrayed them at the last moment.
They were heroes of the Imperium, revered by mortals. Their nobility and their sorrow formed a Mobius Strip from which there was no escape, holding them fast within it.
And now, a "miracle" had appeared before them.
Did this mean their curse was finally about to take a turn for the better?
Or was this merely another, even crueler joke played upon them by fate? A joke that let them glimpse hope, only to snuff it out mercilessly at its brightest moment?
"Sergeant," Lion El'Jonson's voice interrupted Malakai's thoughts. He had already treated Sarah's wounds and injected her with a drug to accelerate her recovery. Sarah had fallen