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Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists Legion, thought he was feeling fear for the first time. The Emperor of Mankind, blessed be his name, suddenly jerked upon his throne, in a seizure like spasm. His eyes grew wide, and he whispered, "It is true."

Dorn immediatley knew what he was referring to, but did not want to believe it. "It cannot be," he thought.

"My Lord, What is true?" he asked, staring at the brilliant floor of the Palace room.

"Magnus wasn't lying. How could I have been so foolish?" The Emperor stated in a hush whisper. "There is not much time. Horus has betrayed me. He has betrayed us all."

"Sir, can that be? He is your son!"

"I know that!" He snapped. "I have felt a horrible distrubance in the warp. He has done something truly terrible."


And indeed Horus had. Istvaan III, home to over 68 Billion people, had been annihilated through Viral bombings. The Emperor felt the shock of so many simultaneous deaths, and instantly knew that Horus was responisble. The unthinkable was now happening, Brother Marine turned on Brother Marine. The Imperium of Man, was now divided.

"Let the Galaxy Burn"

These were the words that heralded the beginning of a new age, a golden age. The Emperor had forsaken them, and so they had forsaken the Emperor. Horus, Master of Mankind, stood resolute, a commanding force, a champion against the dark. And his words had carried with them weight, the weight of the Campaign, the weight of worlds in the balance.

The viral weaponry had surged down upon Istvaan III, scorchign the atmosphere in their fury as every living being upon the world rotted and died, cascading gases surging up and into the flamign atmosphere. He could taste the death, the singular demise of every living soul in a scream that echoed louder than the Astronomicon, blotting out its divine light for a single glorious Moment.

"Now...We wait." Horus smiled softly, turning to regard his equerry, Maloghurst. "We shall defeat the Emperor and his Legions, it all depends upon how we play our hand, and upon those brothers who are with us." He turned his thoughts to the glory that was playing out this moment at Prospero. Magnus and his thousand degenerate sons would be laid low, broken by the fury of the Wolf. Horus' own additions to the already shocking truth had assured, that no being would leave Prospero alive, least of all Magnus.
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Across time and space, Perturabo of the Iron Warriors sat brooding. Before him, the pyres burned, the same flames that raged across the surface of Olympia, cradling the bodies in the fire, taking them back to death. What...What had they done? Such had been his fury when Horus had told him of Rebellion, that he had shown no mercy, granted no Quarter. They had been slaughtered in the streets like animals, millions....By the Throne...

The first transmissions served only to shatter what little peace of mind he yet retained. Leman Russ waged war upon Prospero, slaughtering Magnus' disciples, burning his vast accomplishments to ashes. Horus had incinerated an entire world! Horus, Warmaster! Horus, Brother! He could barely contemplate such a thing.

His Legion had been ordered forth, to confront Horus over his actions. They had fallen far, no longer the glorious defenders of Humanity, standing firm against the Black Judges or the Hrud...Now they had laid waste to their Homeworld, now they were being deployed to face their brethern...And the possibility of a treachery and a Heresy most foul. He hefted Forgebreaker high, the great Hammer a gift from Horus. He felt its power fill him, felt his confidence grow.

There was work to be done...

<Bump>

Ezekyle Abaddon aproached the Warmaster. The gargantuan form of him dwarfed even Ezekyle.

"My Lord," He said. "What do you ask of us now? Istvaan III is no more, as is it's garrison. We should move on."

Amongst the Forge Worlds of the Mechanicum, nothing yet was known about the heresy. Titan works chugged away, the gigantic war machines being assembled in some numbers. Mars- and Lucius-pattern tanks were being distributed to Guard and Marine units throughout the Imperium, and a shipment of Land Raiders had left for the 63rd Expedition. They would be the first uncorrupted Mechanicum members to learn of the heresy, and possibly die of it.

Adept Regulus watched Istavan III burn. His augmetic eyes showed him everything. Oddly enough, and secretly, he approved. There was not a single loss of life for Warmaster, rather, Master of Mankind Horus's forces. It was pure logic, just as the Omnissiah encouraged. However, Regulus was believing he should retain some semblence of humanity, and so was considering having his personnel damage the Titans so they would be of no use to the Warmaster. But he could not bring himself to do it...

"All in good time, Ezekyle." Horus smiled, almost as though he welcomed the carnage, accepted and encouraged all that he had wrought. "I want the Legion to deploy to Istvaan IV. We'll make base there for now. I will remain in orbit and await the arrival of my Brothers. Fulgrim and Angron will arrive soon to finalise preperations. And I want to be here lest any of our other, more erstwhile kin arrive.

They have to be made to understand, Ezekyle. They will realise the Emperor's deception soon enough, and once they do...Well, they will have no choice but to stand with us" A smile crossed his lips. "And a new Master of Mankind shall rise, one more glorious than the...." He paused, contemplating his words, "False Emperor."

"Esteemed Adept Regulus!" Horus' voice echoed across the bridge as he turned to the agent of the Mechanicum. "Now you see how far our agreement has come, how the gift I have offered you must generate in turn the loyalty and the spoils that are required for such a campaign" The immense form of the Warmaster dwarfed the Tech Adept, his immense hand landing upon his shoulder. "I need you with me, friend. Deploy the Titan Legions to Istvaan III, make sure nothing survived the carnage..."