He walked over to the one-eyed sergeant who had remained silent, his eye filled with fear and unease. That veteran was Malakai.
"Brother," Jason said, resting a hand on Malakai's scarred pauldron, "tell me your name."
"Malakai, Chief Chaplain."
"No. I mean your true name."
Malakai froze for a moment. No one had asked him his name from before he became a Space Marine in nearly two centuries. That name, along with everything from his mortal life, had long since been buried deep beneath genetic modification and hypnotic conditioning. Yet now, when Jason asked, it surfaced in his mind with extraordinary clarity.
"...I don't know." In the end, Malakai shook his head. It was an instinctive act of self-preservation.
Jason did not press him. He merely gave Malakai a long, searching look, then turned his gaze to the infant in his arms.
"This child is a revelation granted to us by the Emperor, an embodiment of Sanguinius's compassionate heart. He will walk this cursed road alongside us. He will be our beacon in the night, our anchor in the storm."
Jason's voice grew solemn and reverent.
"He needs a name. A name that can bear the weight of this destiny."
He pondered for a moment, countless saints' writings and Chapter epics flashing through his mind. At last, he thought of a name. A name likewise steeped in tragedy and glory, in defiance and fate.
"Saul," Jason said slowly. "In the myths of Ancient Terra, Saul was the first king chosen amid his people's despair and hopes. His life was filled with war and glory, but also doubt and sorrow. He was a tragic hero, a soul struggling between the will of the gods and the fate of mortals. There is no name more fitting for us, the Sons of Sorrow."