Chapter 42: Guilliman and Lorgar sharing the same hot spring—how could I possibly have such a dream?

Lorgar stumbled, his footing lost; as a Primarch, it was absurd to find himself sprawled upon the ground.

It was not merely him; the entire world of Colchis seemed to fall into a strange, sensory dissociation, as if some transcendent entity were testing the boundaries of intervention.

"Erebus... heh, heh, heh. You have fallen into my hands."

A voice, ancient and jarringly alien, detonated within Lorgar’s mind. As the most potent psyker on Colchis, even a Primarch could not remain unscathed while enduring the direct gaze of Tzeentch. Fortunately, the Changer of Ways was not focused on him, but rather on Erebus—now reduced to a mere head, his soul on the verge of being torn asunder by the daemon-ascended Ka'Bandha.

"That existence... it is almost identical to Father's."

Lorgar stood up, reaching out to shield his brother, who was swaying and nearly blown away while clinging to Lorgar’s leg. Lorgar’s expression was heavy with concern. Though he felt no fear or reverence—for he had already found a higher faith to pursue—he was objective enough to recognize the chasm in raw power.

Arun, however, had no such heavy thoughts. Hugging his brother’s leg, his body fluttering like a ribbon parallel to the ground in the gale, he shouted, "What is that thing? It’s as if a massive wind is sweeping across the entire world. It’s absolutely incredible!"

Lorgar stared directly at the vortex in the sky. The brilliant blue light effortlessly shattered the previous crimson whirlpool, yet the power behind that radiance could not manifest even a fraction of its true self.

"Erebus, awaken! You are my thrall now, not some jester playing with the currents of Chaos."

The Changer of Ways issued its decree, never expecting that this wretched creature would ultimately fall into its own grasp. The skull of Erebus in Ka'Bandha's hand was denied to Khorne and instead pulled away into the void.

Slowly, everything returned to stillness. Long-absent sunlight pierced the clouds, bathing the Peak of Skulls in light. Ka'Bandha clenched his fists in fury. Erebus had been ascended; to kill him next time would require the Skull-Taker himself, or perhaps the intervention of—

Ka'Bandha looked up at the star above. The power of the Emperor, the bane of daemons.

*Crack!*

The head of the daemon fell to the ground. The possession was broken, and Ka'Bandha retreated back into the Warp. The Peak of Skulls was finally purged of the influence of the Dark Gods. At the cost of only Erebus, a fortress of war had been claimed.

Once the gale subsided, Arun landed on the ground, gasping for air. "Whew... so, Erebus was chosen by a daemon all along? But it felt like that thing was swallowing a piece of filth it was forced to consume. Disgusting to eat, but a huge problem if it didn't."

Lorgar knelt, helping his brother up. "That thing? Do you know what it was?"

Arun took a moment to compose himself. "I heard Malum and Father mention it once. They called it Tzeentch. They never explained it to me, but it must be some kind of super-daemon. It’s no big deal; our brother Guilliman makes a living out of fighting daemons."

"He has over two hundred thousand of those super-warriors called Astartes. You’ll probably have a whole bunch of them in the future, too."

Lorgar mused, "My warriors?"

Arun nodded earnestly. "Exactly. You might even have a genetic connection—that’s what Malum said. I don’t fully understand the details, but your warriors will look upon you as their father." He didn't forget to remind him, "Remember not to have any unnecessary emotions. I feel like I have to keep saying that, though I’m not sure if it’s helpful to you."

Lorgar stood up, hoisted his brother onto his shoulders, and smiled. "We shall see when the time comes. For now, let us secure this fortress. With the Peak of Skulls as our base, we can strike deep into the heart of the Dark Gods' domains."

It was not the first time Arun had been lifted onto someone’s shoulders, but Lorgar was far taller than Malum. With his hands hanging loosely, Arun found himself staring at Lorgar’s bald head, struggling to suppress a peculiar urge.

"So," Arun said, feeling awkward, "I came all this way just to witness a big wind and an earthquake? You weren't actually in any real danger?"

"Perhaps," Lorgar replied casually. "In truth, I didn't even think the previous times were—"

The Primarch’s voice trailed off. He frowned, feeling a tremor beneath his feet. An aftershock?

Lorgar reached up to steady his brother. "I must pick up the pace. Hold on tight."

Arun had no choice but to embrace his brother’s smooth, bald head, watching as his field of vision began to blur into a streak of motion. Beneath him, his brother was running on two legs, yet his movement was more swift and predatory than any leopard of the plains. Even the roar of the wind grew faint. Fortunately, Lorgar’s massive hand remained firmly on his waist, preventing him from being jolted off.

Running at the Primarch’s full capacity, Arun finally understood what Jaghatai must have felt like when he rode the White Scars.

Before long, they saw a collapse ahead. A cliffside had split open, revealing a boiling spring deep within. This was no natural phenomenon.

Lorgar’s guards were being washed by these waters. Their skin turned a raw, blistering red, and they writhed on the ground in agony, their bodies scraping against jagged rocks until blood formed filthy, dizzying, and maddening scripts upon the stone.

"Warriors of the One True God, come to me!"

"You shall withstand the corruption of the Dark Gods!"

Lorgar leaped down the cliff, making sure to set Arun down on the ledge so his mortal brother would remain unharmed. The boiling spring was already tainted by the guards' blood, and combined with the heat, a nauseating, putrid stench began to spread.

"It is the work of Tzeentch. That thing left a trap before it departed."

The moment Lorgar touched the water, he understood who was playing with them. His loyal guards were already stumbling up from the boiling spring, no longer struggling. Their nerve endings had been severed—a minor sorcery of the kind Tzeentch favored.

Tzeentch sniffed its own hand. *Acceptable.* It wasn't a foul odor; it had the power to isolate Nurgle’s influence. It just meant its daemon subordinates couldn't be deployed casually; it would have to stick to the old rules of using sorcery to numb the pain.

No one cared about the state of Tzeentch’s hand now. As Lorgar plunged into the foul spring, his guards had already used their hands to gouge out their own eyes. Their blood-stained faces were twisted into expressions of ecstatic madness, a delirium born of knowing everything.

They charged at Lorgar with wild excitement.

"Saint! We have found the one true truth!"

"Quick... come and join us—"

"—to witness the ultimate reason of the world!"

The spring water splashed as the guards trampled through it. They—no, *things*—had begun to warp and bloat into distorted shapes.

Lorgar clenched his fists, whispering a curse: "Daemons!"

***

Ten thousand years later, on a battlefield.

An entire mountain range was being stripped from the Warp. It was a fragment torn living from a planet, reeking of the chaotic energies that had corroded it for eons. Although the Word Bearers' primary stronghold in the Warp was the planet Sicarus, occupied by Kor Phaeron—

(Cato Sicarius: *What is this? Why does it have the same name as me?*)

—parts of Colchis had been continuously collected and stripped away over these ten thousand years.

Endless, boiling, putrid water cascaded down the mountainside, washing over the asteroid that served as the battlefield. Two Chaos Sorcerers had performed this feat together, backed by dozens of Word Bearers Chaos Astartes.

"This is a piece of flesh from Colchis, the Primarch’s homeworld. Once we convert this asteroid and crash it into the *Macragge’s Honour*, even if it is shattered upon approach, the lingering chaotic energy will be enough to corrupt the surrounding fleet."

One Chaos Sorcerer turned to the captain of the Word Bearers squad and smiled. "I, Javan Frayn, servant of the Great Tzeentch, have completed my mission. With this bait, the Shadow will be drawn away temporarily, and your masters will have the chance to break free."