Guilliman had seen more overt horrors wrought by the minions of Chaos, often on a stupefying scale, but there was a pregnant doom to the Triumphal Way that overtook even the goriest displays, and unsettled his mind.

‘Be on your guard,’ he said. ‘Things are not as they seem. The Pride of the Emperor no longer wholly occupies realspace.’

‘Yes,’ voxed Thiel. ‘This place stinks of the warp.’

A Space Marine’s mind is robust, altered during his apotheosis from human to superhuman, and hardened against fear by years of training. Guilliman’s veterans had seen much of what their primarch had, and took the disquiet in their stride. They arrayed themselves for battle: shield-bearing breacher teams taking up station near ingress points; Terminators forming up into squads; his own Invictarus Suzerain honour guard taking up position to maximise the protection their slab shields could provide their lord. The disruption fields around their axes shone palely in the gloom.

Guilliman set his vox to encrypted wideband. ‘We have arrived. Taskforces, inform me of your status.’

Garbled static laced with laughter and screaming burst into his ear. Half a minute went by before a voice resolved itself painfully from the cacophony.

‘My lord primarch, can you hear me?’

‘I have contact with you, Master Ludon,’ said Guilliman.

‘I have been attempting to reach you for several minutes, my lord. The Aurora Chapter stands firm. We are meeting minimal resistance. There are–’ The Chapter Master’s voice blurred out for a moment, replaced by wild shrieks. ‘–only fourteen. Mostly bodies. All of them mutilated. We are proceeding towards our objective.’

‘Strike Group Wrath, my lord,’ said another voice. A rune blinked in Guilliman’s display marking out a position on his cartograph twenty decks below. The report came with a background of banging bolters and the roaring sound of atmosphere flash-heated by melta weapons.

‘Master Corvo,’ said Guilliman with a smile. There were too few veterans left from the times before.

‘The Novamarines are engaged on three fronts, my lord,’ the Chapter Master shouted. ‘Enemy numbers are higher than expected. Estimated arrival at target zone twelve minutes after intention.’

‘Keep me informed,’ said Guilliman. His own group remained unharried. He switched through to the other taskforces; all but that of the Aurora Chapter had been engaged by large numbers of the enemy. There were Emperor’s Children everywhere, but not on the Triumphal Way.

‘Advance!’ Guilliman ordered. His guard broke into a swift stride as he set out, heading into the night that had hold of the Pride of the Emperor. ‘We will meet no enemy here.’

‘We cannot be undetected. This is another trap,’ said Andros.

‘My brother is challenging me,’ said Guilliman. ‘Fulgrim always was too enamoured of theatrics.’

‘We must be on guard for ambush,’ said Andros.

‘Do not expect it, brother,’ said Thiel. ‘This dismal corridor would not suit Fulgrim. Where else would he be but on his greatest stage? We will find him in the Heliopolis.’