Three days later.
Enoch was buried at the highest point of the ancient ruins. The terrain there was treacherous, but it overlooked much of Colchis's vast, desolate desert.
Lorgar let no one help him. With the shovel that had ended the daemon, he dug his teacher's grave himself. From the depths of the canyon, he carried back a single slab of the hardest natural granite, weighing dozens of tons, and erected it before the grave as Enoch's headstone.
The enormous headstone was polished like a mirror. Not a single word was carved into it, nor a single epitaph.
For Lorgar, the truth Enoch had taught him and the greatness he had shown were already etched deep into his soul, his flesh and blood, and his genetic code. They needed no pallid praise in mortal words.
Lorgar stood silently before the unmarked headstone, letting the sand-laden gale lash his cheeks.
He raised his hand and, with agonizing slowness, wiped the last tear from the corner of his eye. When he opened his eyes again, all uncertainty, sorrow, and weakness had vanished from them. All that remained was a cold resolve, utterly unshakable, like steel tempered countless times.
He turned and walked toward the tens of thousands of followers waiting in formation below the ruins.
Lorgar stepped onto the platform and looked down at the faces filled with awe and hope. His voice rang out like a great bell heralding a new age.
"From this day forward, we are no longer wanderers."
Lorgar's voice echoed in every listener's ears, carrying an absolute force none could resist. "The Holy Covenant Church beguiles people with deceitful lies and vicious parasites, treating our kin as livestock awaiting slaughter. We shall use the purest truth to illuminate this world shrouded in darkness."
"They spread delusional