Dukel bore witness to a battle of titanic proportions above the churning Sea of Souls. The clash of demi-gods tore through the immaterium, unleashing cataclysmic storms across the High Heavens. Countless warp-spawn shrieked and wailed in agony, caught in the wake of devastation.
"Lorgar, it ends here. I will be the one to put you down, brother. No matter your past sins, your judgment is at hand."
A murder of crows swirled through the gloom of the warp, their black wings scattering like ink across a twilight sky. Amid them stood a lone figure—gaunt, pallid, and cloaked in sorrow.
The Primarch Corvus had been hunting his brothers for millennia. He walked the paths of darkness, stalking the damned in their unholy sanctuaries. After the Horus Heresy and the scouring that followed, he sought vengeance for Istvaan V, for the treachery that had sundered their Legion and shattered the Imperium's dream.
He had plunged into the immaterium, forsaking all but his purpose: the eradication of his fallen kin.
"Does this truly matter?" Lorgar sneered.
To him, the so-called loyalists were pitiable fools, blind to the grander truth. They were not imbeciles—only victims of a lie they had yet to see unravel. Once, he had glorified the Emperor, kneeling in reverence. But when he felt the presence of something greater, he knew his true god had come.
To herald divinity's arrival, he orchestrated a six-month ceremony. His people, his Legion, had willingly prostrated themselves beneath the light of their newfound faith. The Word Bearers carried out their god's will and embarked upon their pilgrimage of conquest.
They had sought no rewards, no accolades—only the fulfillment of their sacred duty: to spread the Emperor's word across the stars. Yet, when their victories mounted, he had begun to fear. Why did they require rewards? Was not devotion its own purpose?
And when the fire fell from the heavens, when the Perfect City was reduced to ruin and its knowledge turned to ash, he understood.
Faith was not enough.
The Emperor had abandoned him.
The physical wounds were nothing. The agony of a shattered belief was far worse. When the Master of Mankind gazed upon him with contempt, everything became irreversibly clear.
The Angels of Death had not descended upon Monarchia to enshrine it in glory—they came to burn it to the ground. A divine retribution, a cleansing fire that scoured the faithful alongside the heretic. The dreams of billions were crushed beneath ceramite boots, and in their place, despair took root.
Why had their god turned against them?
Lorgar knelt in the smoldering ruins, broken. His only regret was that he had not perished with his city that day. All that he had built, all that he had believed, was reduced to nothing.
So he turned to the gods of the warp. And there, in the depths of the Eye of Terror, he found what he sought. But no longer would he trust in any master—not the Emperor, not the Ruinous Powers. He had been betrayed too many times.
Now, he pursued the one thing that mattered: the Primordial Truth.
He had seen beyond the veil. The gods were lies, no different from the Emperor—a puppet master deceiving his subjects. Even Chaos was but another mask, another illusion. He no longer served, only sought.
"You betrayed the Imperium. You led Horus into damnation. You are a traitor. Because of you, mankind suffers. Because of you, entire worlds burn. If I kill you, my oath is fulfilled."
"That was Horus's choice. He refused to be the False Emperor's tool."
"You shattered humanity's hope! You turned on your own blood! You led our brothers into ruin!"
Corvus' shadow spread like a storm across the warp, his murderous intent barely contained.
"Brother, I gave my soul to Colchis. I believed in the Lord of Mankind. I preached his name. For a hundred years, I built his empire. Tens of billions followed his gospel. But when he came to Monarchia, when he razed my city to the ground, he told me my faith was a lie. That my life's work was a joke."
Lorgar's golden runes burned with fervent power, his presence towering even amidst the shadows.
"Corvus, you will never understand. You cannot fathom the agony of killing your own sons. You cannot comprehend what it is to see the Emperor rain fire upon your people, to brand you a failure, and then walk away."
His voice cracked with sorrow. "Gather your crows, Corvus. Tell them the Legion's faith was worthless. Look them in the eye and call them failures. Then tell me—who is the traitor?"
Corvus had no patience for his brother's self-pity. "Enough! You led this galaxy to ruin, and now you cry as though you were the victim!"
Lorgar's rage flared. "You call faith foolish, yet what sustains the Imperium now? The very worship our father condemned! He is venerated as a god!"
Lorgar, the Great Bearer of the Word, had long since ascended. Once, he had become a prince of the warp, a champion of Chaos.
For ten thousand years, brother had warred against brother. The tragedy of their lineage was written in blood.
Golden runes flared across Lorgar's armor. The warp churned as his power unfolded, a tidal wave of soul energy expanding outward. Fire raged around him, seething in the currents of the immaterium.
Corvus' shadow swelled in response. The crows descended, their beaks and talons like razors.
Lorgar's crozius clashed against the darkness, but he faltered, forced back step by step. He was not a warrior. He never had been. Even with the power of Chaos, he was at a disadvantage in close combat.
Corvus, too, had changed. In the depths of the warp, he had found his true self. Fire and shadow collided, the clash of their power shaking the immaterium itself.
The warp howled as chaos-beasts were torn apart by the battle's aftershocks. Even the Dark Gods turned their gaze upon the conflict.
Dukel watched from afar, his unnatural eyes piercing the void.
"Well done."
His hands clapped together in amusement. The fabric of reality warped around him, but still, he saw the battle unfold.
When the carnage finally cleared, the Word Bearer lay broken and bloodied, his golden armor cracked and stained. Corvus stood over him, a thin trickle of blood running from his lip.
"The truth you seek does not exist," Corvus muttered.
He drove his blade into Lorgar's neck, cold steel piercing sacred flesh. A final blow to sever his head—but Lorgar smiled.
His crozius struck the ground. Warp energy erupted in an explosion of raw power. The fabric of reality twisted, and a howling vortex swallowed him whole.
Corvus shielded his eyes from the blinding storm. When the maelstrom faded, his quarry was gone.
The hunt had failed again.
Rage burned in Corvus' chest. But before he could act, crimson flames flared around him. A vast, singular eye blinked open within the inferno, its gaze laden with knowledge.
"Brother, Lorgar has gone to Abaddon. I saw it myself."
Corvus recognized the voice. "Dukel."
"There is no time for gratitude, brother. Kill him. Finish what you started."
With a cry, the Lord of the Raven Guard vanished into the warp, his shadow stretching far and wide.
The flames guttered out, and the Sea of Souls fell silent once more.
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