Chapter Six: Revelation

Eyes blazing with psychic might, the Emperor of Man turned from the Throne and began to descend the staircase to the portal he could feel opening at the foot of the Pyramid. A slow trickle of knowledge was his sole companion for the journey, and as he descended from the summit, a rudimentary timeline was forming in his mind of how the future would unfold. It showed him how the Webway project would begin and fail, and it showed him that the Four would use his absence to taint some of his greatest creations corrupt them into leading the forces of Chaos against him while he was entombed on the Golden Throne by another son's folly.

Some of it was laid out for him almost like a story from an outsider's perspective, while others were painfully seen from his future selves' eyes. The Emperor had never been an emotional being, millennia of loss and pain had jaded him, yet this did not mean he was devoid of compassion and love. These long-buried, yet powerful emotions were brought to bear as he watched the almost robotic Emperor of the Heresy cruelly manipulate humanity and the Primarchs. 

The Emperor of the Present had always known that unpleasant choices had to be made, and had made many of them himself throughout mankind's history. That was not what disquieted him, the uncaring coldness of how the actions were taken was what disturbed him greatly. The correct answer was not always the right one, and this future counterpart seemed to not understand that. Humans are beings that emotion is imperative to, and by casting them off he had spelled not only his own doom but that of humanities.

Guilt and fear beat a steady rhythm in Atham's mind as the full consequences of what he had done to ensure humanity's survival, yet would spell its doom. Even now, with the infant Primarchs growing, he could feel parts of himself slip away into the ether. The Primarchs may have been saved from the Ruinous Powers, but he was already damned to become the heartless God-Emperor. The rituals were irreversible, and the parts of himself he believed unnecessary for his Great Work were already being bound to his Twenty Creations.

The Emperor of Mankind reached the bottom of the pyramid of the Golden Throne with a leaden heart, while visions of atrocities committed both in his name and to topple him flashed before his eyes. The Warp-Rift that would take him to his own time stood before him, pouring forth golden light and radiant psychic power. Taking a deep breath, the Emperor of Mankind stepped towards it preparing to do whatever was necessary to save humanity.

"STOP!" 

A voice rang out throughout the chamber. Whirling around to the source of it at literal lighting speed, the Emperor prepared to face the source of the cry. Standing a few dozen meters away at the foot of the Pyramid was an Angel. The Emperor paused mid-stride as he looked at the being. It stood nearly three meters tall and glowed with a soft golden light. Slowly, the golden-haired being moved towards the Emperor, its billowing white wings stirring softly like a bird's itching to fly.

Focusing on the being's face the Emperor simply said: "I know you". Flickers of memories not quite his own stirred in Athams mind.

*Battling Side by Side with the Angel against Xeno Hordes*

*Crowning the Warmaster for his Triumph as the Angel and his brothers watched.*

*A Daemon infested Ship where the monstrous Avatar of Chaos stood over the Broken Angel*

Recognition dawned on the Emperor's face as he focused past the being's psychic glow and saw its face. He was handsome like an ancient Terran portrait from the First Renaissance, yet marred by twin lines of red down its face, as if it had been crying tears of blood. The tear-stained Angel spoke again: 

"Hello, Father, or Father-To-Be. It seems the God-Emperor has succeeded in his mission, yet at the same time failed." 

The Emperor stiffened at the being's words, he had known since the beginning of their creation that the Primarchs would view him as a parent, and in a way he was. Still, in his long life, he had buried many of his own children. Even the ones who had inherited some of his gifts. The idea of being the father of twenty superweapons disturbed him. Yet when he looked upon the being before him and all the memories of its triumphs and tragedies, a mix of pride and grief welled within him. Speaking softly, the Emperor asked: "How do you yet live Sanguinius? I have seen the memories. You fall facing Horus."

A soft, sad smile appeared on the Great Angel's face as he spoke. "Indeed, I am dead. Horus struck me down and my soul flew into the Immaterium. There, the being you knew as Sanguinius became one with The Emperor, and a piece of his lost compassion returned to Him." Visions flickered once more before the Emperor's Eyes.

*The Tainted Horus laughing psychotically as the Dark Gods channeled there might through the Warmaster as he rained blow after blow onto Him*

*Begging his once favorite son to stop, to try and reclaim his humanity*

*The Single Soldier, an old friend and a martyr, stepped before his prone, weeping from and Horus*

*The cruel laugh of Horus as he butchered the first to hold the line which turned to a scream as the Emperor of Mankind cast out his newly reclaimed humanity and struck with the full might of the being known as the Anathema* 

The Spirit of Sanguinius continued: "You regained your humanity with my death, and cast it aside once again to slay Horus and strike back at the Great Enemy. Yet I did not fade into the eternal Storm of the Warp but became sheltered in your light. Where much to my surprise, I discovered others like me. You are the Anathema: Bane of Chaos and Lord of the Sane. We are your sons, your shards, and even those who fell the furthest were born of you and all that was good in them could not be destroyed in their ascension but simply... banished elsewhere."

Golden Light flared from the Angel's wingtips and in a brilliant flash, other phantoms entered the Chamber. The Emperor looked over them and recognized each from his gifted memories. The Spirits of the Primarchs who had been slain and untaintable Shards of the Daemon Primarchs ringed The Emperor. 

The Chorus of Fallen Demi-Gods spoke as one: "Father who failed us and who we failed, we offer the only thing we can to save the galaxy. The Humanity you gifted to us we now return to you. So that maybe this Final Revelation may allow Good to exist once again" In great billowing currents of Warp Energy the Primarchs surrendered themselves to rejoin with their creator.

Tears began to flow down the Emperor's face. Fragments of power and emotion poured into his soul. He had not just simply restored to his original state but had been empowered. Closing his eyes he felt the Pillars of psychic flame within his soul that had once been Primarchs, like great spouts of fire that supported and reinforced his Nova-like Soul. Yet looking past the psychic inferno smaller sparks of energy flitted in and about him. The Emperor smiled softly as he realized the nature of the swarms of sparks. They were souls, Quintillions of human souls bound to him to both empower him and to protect them.

The Emperor was ancient, as old as human civilization, he had been there watching from the shadows throughout it and gently guiding it back on track when it was necessary. Yet throughout history, he had faced a consistent nemesis that not only stymied humanity with superstition, hate, and fear but allowed Darker much more nefarious forces to influence his species. This foe was all the worse because anytime he intervened in human history it grew exponentially. This foe was Religion

Yet for all of its crimes and cruel acts the facet that bothered him the most about it was the use of the Afterlife to control and manipulate people. The reason for this is quite simple. For the Emperor is the Human Afterlife. 

The Being that would eventually be known as the Emperor of Mankind had been created by the eldest and most powerful human Psykers to protect humanity not just from material but immaterial threats. Every human soul not touched by one of the countless threats of the immaterial joined with him in death. Now the souls of fallen Primarchs and of those slain battling in the Grim Darkness of the far-future were safe, bound with him to escape the encroaching endtimes of this reality. 

Opening his eyes the Emperor saw that two figures still stood before him. An Armored Angel and a Metal Armed Burning Giant. Two Fragments of the Primarchs were still bound to the God Emperor to battle alongside the Imperiums Angels and Daemons in the wars to come. The pieces bowed before the Emperor and faded out of the Materium.

Taking a deep breath The Reborn Emperor of Mankind turned to the Portal and stepped back into his own time. Energy flowed over him as he felt his soul shooting back through the Warp Current that linked the 41st and 30th Millenia. In A blast of energy, the Emperor returned to the Laboratory. 

Opening his eyes he looked around the chamber. It was exactly as it had been before, turning to Malcador who stood firm his own psychic might at the ready if the unthinkable had happened and the Emperor had gone mad. Asking in a hoarse whisper that still conveyed his natural authority and charisma he said: "How long was I gone?" 

Malcador softly said: "Seconds at the most, a blast of light filled the room when you touched the beacon and that was moments ago. How long did it seem to you, my Lord?"

Moving slowly with measured movements The Emperor began to walk towards the Infant Primarchs as he spoke: "Hours, maybe a day at most. You were correct Malcador, this message was meant for me and me alone."

Malcador was worried. Something was different, The Emperor's psychic power seemed muted, weakened from its normal incredible state. The Sigillite alone knew certain secrets and contingencies designed to counter the Emperor if the impossible occurred and he became a threat to the human species. These various plans floated through his ancient mind as he continued to speak to his friend and Master.

"Where is the message from and who is the source?" asked Malcador.

The Emperor's lips parted in a sad smile "It comes from me, a version of me from the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries That Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die." 

"Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse." 

"To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. I learned of this time from my future self and the lessons of that age are horrific. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods."