Chapter Nineteen: The Fall of Luna (Part I)

Location: The Bucephalus, in parade formation with the rest of the Imperial Fleet at Sol's Mandeville Point

Date: 813.M30 (Three Months since the First Legion left Sol for Ceres)

The Conquest of Sol had gone off virtually without a hitch. Twenty Primarch left Sol in staggered duos. Working together or solo to target and subjugate the Solar System. Many great battles were fought. From Eddard Fendragons slaying of the Shoggoth to Iskandar and Perturabo breaking the Venusian War-Witches control over the Golem-Legion. After three months of hard-fought war, the Solar system was entirely under Imperial control.

Twenty preliminary Crusader Fleets, a few dozen Expedition Fleets and the Augustus Fleet of the Custodes and Emperor were now marshaled at the Edge of Sol. Within the Bucephalus, the Emperor and his sons met. It was the first time they had all been together since they left Terra, and now they stood together in the Grand Observatory of the Imperial Flagship. Earlier in the evening, the chamber had hosted a grand banquet of celebration. Dignitaries, officials, and officers had mingled among Astartes. Remembrancers had made their formal debut, recording the event for the larger Imperium. Speeches had been given, merits and awards gifted to heroes of the campaign. It had been a triumphant celebration of the newborn Imperium of Man.

That party was over and now in the star-lit chamber, the Master of Mankind stood before his sons. They had celebrated in public and the brothers had congratulated each other. Now it was time for final words of wisdom to be gifted from father to sons. As one the Primarchs knelt before their father and reaffirmed oaths of loyalty they swore once before. In the heart of the Imperial Palace on their 20th birthday. The Emperor had hoped to be able to launch the Crusade by then. Sadly that had not been the case and an additional decade had passed before the Imperium was ready. Time his sons would make as they conquered the stars.

Even if they had not left Terra then, they had reached adulthood at twenty. So it was only fitting they be given the inheritance their father had crafted from their genes. At twenty the Primarchs had been given full command of their legions and swore the Imperial Oath to their father. Promising eternal loyalty to him, and humanity. A little over a decade later those words were repeated as they prepared to take to the Stars. The words were the same, from the lowliest PDF auxilia to the Primarchs themselves. Unity in purpose, across the spectrum of mankind.

Finishing the oath, the Primarchs rose to face the Emperor. Each of them saw the Master of Mankind uniquely. The Human-Anathema had no set form, the Primarchs knew that. Even minds as powerful as theirs could only interpret the energy before them. Some saw an ancient sage, others a scarred battle-king, a regal politician, a few even saw an unassuming mortal. The only details shared between each set of eyes locked on the Emperor was the golden eyes that shone like stars and the paternal smile of pride.

Touching their minds and speaking directly to them the Emperor began: "I have lived the entire length of human civilization. Entire empires, cultures, and subspecies were born and extinguished in these long forty thousand years. My duty as humanities guardian has been a harsh one. Extinction and damnation have been hounding our kin form the moment the first simians learned to walk upright. This war I have been waging is now entering its climax. Ascension and survival or desolation and doom if we should fail."

"In those forty thousand years many allies have stood with me. Including many of your gene-sources. Yet each of them could only help me in this battle in limited ways. Time, sorrow and horrors beyond thought forced them to stop walking the shining path with me. When I first started the Primarch project I did not know what would be born of it. You, my sons, are the results of that project and I could not have hoped for better. I believe each of you in time will be capable of helping me share the burden and joy of being humanities guardian." continued the Emperor

"Once the galaxy is safe for humanity and the fires of war have dimmed. I hope you will each take your rightful place at my side. As the human species champions, guardians and guides. You were each created as both masters of war and peace. Please never forget that my children. I do not know what we will face once we leave Sol. My sight of the future is not perfect and the Great Enemy does its best to obscure fate. So I can only ask each of you to be the Men you were meant to be and rejoin me here once our species is safe. Help me struggle against the dying of the light and ignite a new flame."

Each Primarch heard roughly the same message spoken, but each was slightly unique. Tweaked to reach them on a more individual level. Both to convey a father's love and motivate the Demigods. In that moment as his speech ended golden light erupted into the Emperor's vision. Time froze and psychic chains forged by a dead god snapped. The Emperor of Mankind felt a rush of memories and messages from the God-Emperor pour into him.

He stood before the Corpse-God once again. Staring into the glowing sockets that formed the desiccated deities eyes. The voice that could shatter planets echoed through his mind. "You have done well, raised them as your own. The Primarch Project has succeeded. It is logical we now share with you truths of the Twenty we deemed not fit for you originally."

The room spun and the Emperor found himself in the Luna Labs. Twenty gestation capsules surrounded him. The God-Emperor's voice continued: "It failed, the secondary purpose of the Primarchs failed. We imbued each with a spark of our emotions but they did not consume our humanity as we told you. The spark helped the unearthly power inside of them become human. We still held our compassion and other failings then. Casting them aside only occurred when we faced the Brightest Star."

Confusion and worry filled the Emperor's mind. He had been deceived, but for what purpose? Asking that question Revelation was met with silence. Until an answer came in the form of an Angel. The ghost of Sanguinius bloomed into being in the chamber. In a melodic yet powerful voice, it spoke to the Emperor: "You needed to be their father. Not their creator. Guilt and hope for redemption drive anyone, even you, to impossible heights. I am sorry for the deception but to ensure the shining path, it was necessary."

"So why did my counterpart act so callously to some? If he had his humanity could he not see the damage it was causing?" Responded the Emperor, glaring at the red-tear stained face of the IX Primarchs spirit.

Bowing his head in grief the Primarch-Specter whispered: "We were touched by the Primordial Annihilator when we flew through the Warp. Each tainted enough to open our hearts to Chaos. The Dark-Gods proclaimed half of us would be theirs. Our Emperor could not stop that destiny, only hope some would be preserved from damnation."

As those words left the mouth of the ghost it looked at Revelation and at that moment he saw the curse that stained the Great Angel. Sanguinus eyes became pure-black, windows to the nightmare of wrath that scaled his soul. Fangs designed to slit throats and guzzle blood flashed as he spoke. "If the gods were to claim half of us, the Emperor wanted the Lost and the Damned among us to fall."

A hint of bitter fury colored the Angel's words "In a game of cosmic Regicide against false-gods even the greatest pieces must be sacrificed to win."

The Red Thirst that colored the ghost faded and the Angel was once again himself. Warily Revelation asked: " So what did you gift me? Alongside the souls of this universes pure, you gifted me something? If it was not the essence of the fallen Primarchs, then what?!"

The Angel smiled softly and spoke: "We spoke the truth about the nature of that gift, just not its effects. You hold within you the power of Mankind's Hero's once again. Once that power was used for war, hopefully, the God-Emperor's Gift can be used in peace."

A million questions entered Revelations mind before he could ask any of them, light filled his vision. The golden aura soon faded and he found himself back on the Bucephalus, surrounded by his sons. No time had passed for the Legions Masters. Recovering and hiding any evidence of the vision the Emperor felt a sense of worry pass through him. The Corpse-Emperor was manipulating him, where did it start and where would it end? What did the Angel's Ghost mean by A gift for Peace? More mysteries to uncover. Hopefully before the False-God on the Throne did something truly Insane.

Hiding his distress the Emperor said his final words of wisdom to the Primarchs. The Father and Sons parted. Each Primarch returning to their flagship. Preparing to lead their Sons to the stars. The Galaxy was mankind's and all who stood in their way would submit or die. Humanity would, no, must ascend! The price of failure would be the death of everything. Chaos would burn in the Anathemas light or the universe would dissolve in insanity.

As the Fleet readied itself, awaiting the Emperor's command to launch. Insanity struck. More than a thousand vessels made up the initial Great Crusade expedition. On every single one of them, the Primordial Annihilator was unleashed. It was thankful the fleet was cushioned by the silence of the Void. Otherwise, the screams would have echoed all the way to Terra.

Location: The High Altar of the Four Phases: Near Lacus Doloris on Luna

Date: 813.M30 (Three Months since the First Legion left Sol for Ceres)

Hidden away from the prying eyes of the Emperor's slaves the Creed of Four Phases had built a temple to their gods. A travesty of occult imagery, human sacrifice, and genetic horror. Resources had been siphoned from the glut filling Luna for the Legion creation. The Creed's followers of the Learner had many vat-grown mathematicians to help hide the cult's activities. In the nearly twenty-five years of its existence, the Creed had spread like cancer beneath Luna.

With each passing day, the loyalists became increasingly outnumbered. All without them knowing it. A hidden rebellion was rising against the Emperor. At the head of this religious insurgency was Sagitari-17. One of the first to be chosen by the Gods and the bearer of the twin artifacts. The Blade of Sacrifice and the Chalice of the Master were the holiest items of the newborn religion. With each victim, the Blade drank it grew in power. Soon it would prey upon the Emperor's own life-blood. The Chalice was a blood cloner of phenomenal complexity. Letting the sacred drop given by the Dark-Master be replicated over and over.

That Warp-Touched blood had been the center point of the Creeds plan. Trace amounts of it had contaminated every single Astartes Progenoid that passed through the Lunar Labs. This corruption sat within them, growing and winding into the Neophytes souls. Waiting for the signal to unleash its power. The time for that signal had come. With the launching of the Great Crusade, the Lunar Insurrection was ready to rise.

The first blow against the Tyrant of Terra would come not from blade or bomb. Instead by a ritual performed in the Creeds temple. This hidden cathedral to the Four Aspects was circular in shape. Capable of holding the thousands of cultists who faced the central altar in prayer. Elevated to the point the temple's ceiling needed to be domed, the High Altar was a place of great ritual power. Each cultist within the Temple focused their mental energies on the Altar and the ritual commencing on it.

Sagitari-17, the Chosen of the Four Aspects stood upon the Altar. With the Blade of Sacrifice held high above his head. All his devotion, loyalty, and service to the Four would worth it in a moment. The final part of the ritual to save the Primarchs children from the Emperor was underway. Great sorcery engines had been assembled to power the ascension of the Astartes. Weapons of flesh and steel were grown by the thousand in hidden Vaults of Luna. Yet the final component of the rebellions first blow was not an artifact or resources. It was something else stolen from the Gods by the Emperor. No, someone else stolen by the Tyrant. An abhuman minion of the Master of Terra who was fated to free himself and join the Gods. Somehow someway the Emperor had broken destiny and stole his pawn back from the Four. Now it was time for Sagitari-17 to return him to his rightful masters.

Zamora the Ancient Squat had served the Emperor for many long years. Fighting side by side during the Iron War and Unification of Terra. In that time doubts about the nature of his Liege and what he intended grew. Carefully nurtured by the Dark Gods of the Warp. If unaddressed those thoughts would have grown to treachery. Robbing the Anathema of a useful servant who could have changed the balance of fate. Somehow the Emperor saw the Gods schemes and saved his friend and alley from the pit. Promising salvation for his long-lost Hold-Kin and reaffirming the Squats faith in the Emperor.

This would not stand and the Dark Gods used their servants upon Luna to claim what they viewed as theirs. While on a secret mission for the Emperor to recover the last important artifacts on Luna he had been captured by the cultists. Dozens of gene-warriors and sorcerers were cut down by the hardened abhuman before he was subdued. Now he lay bound upon the Altar which was stained black with the blood of thousands.

Sagitari-17 awaited the tides of destiny to shift, he would offer the traitor to the gods up at the perfect moment. When the Tyrant prepared to leave Sol and conquer the galaxy his doom would be unleashed. The death and sacrifice of a divine-servant stolen would provide the power needed to unleash the Four Aspects wrath. The Lunar Priest-Lord looked down on the bound and gagged Squat. His greatly enhanced immaterial powers let him watch the abhumans emotions flicker and battle each other as it spat muffled curses. Fury, despair, adrenaline and panicked hope flared through the Squats body and brain. A perfect offering to the Four.

Feeling the moment arrive, when fate entered one of its grand crossroads. Sagitari-17 brought the obsidian blade down while screaming prayers to the Four: "Frurndar-Hashut! Leth-Phaos! Ksy-Chamon!"

The ritual blade ripped into the Squats heart. Severing its muscle-strings and splattering the Abhumans ichor all over the Altar. Zamora died with a roar of bloody vengeance. His wrathful bellows turning to gurgles as death took him. Sagitari-17 watched the now tainted soul of Zamora Gortrekzon, the Ancient Squat of Clan Kaddrin scream into the depths of the Warp. Where the Dark Master Be'lakor captured it, preparing to use it in the Great War against the Anathema.

Before Zamora's life-blood had stopped flowing reality trembled. Space/Time twitched in disgust as the Primordial Annihilator was unleashed. The Warp-Rip deep within Luna widened maddenly. Letting the raw stuff of Chaos flow into Terra's Moon. Great Psi-Machines of mutation and madness captured and unleashed the power. Feeding Chaos into the veins of each and every tainted Astartes. The material strained and ripped under the stress. Even this close to the Anathema's fire warp-rifts opened up. From Sol to the Kuiper belt the forces of Insanity poured into realspace.

Ramshackle fleets of the Lost and the Damned accompanied by Daemonic Patrons prepared to strike the Imperiums Heart. The Astronomicon had provided a beacon of sanity to the pure remnants of mankind. For the fallen, it signaled a march to war. Now a mad crusade of Chaos, assembled from throughout the galaxy was unleashed. Lunar Sorcerers transmitted knowledge to the dark hordes and unleashed the Cults armies upon the Loyalists. Chaos had come to Sol.