This time, Fulgrim replied. His voice was as mellifluous as it always had been, but the neediness that had always lurked at the back of his words had come to fore, a poison masquerading as confidence.

‘Why are you in such a hurry?’ he said, his whisper filling the Heliopolis. ‘Your strategy is to play for time, is it not? To allow your sons in their fine new paints to cripple this ship. They look so colourful now, Guilliman, so much less dull than blue, blue, blue. How was it to break up your Legion, Guilliman? Did it hurt?’

‘Come and face me. Let us settle our differences honourably.’

‘Do you want to talk?’ Fulgrim, still unseen, tittered. ‘About what? A little family reunion? You and I have nothing in common. We never did, and now we have even less. I serve the true powers of this universe, while you languish under the dead hand of our father. You are so predictable, Roboute.’ He laughed. ‘So dull, so stolid. Boring old Roboute! You were the unloved child, while the brighter stars got all of father’s attention. Overlooked, until the end, and then when you were needed you were not there. It must have stung, brother, to be so outshone. Perturabo did not enjoy it, I know. Did you?’

Guilliman peered hard through the light. It responded to his prodigious will, its obscuring effect lessened, and he caught a hint of sinuous movement on the far side of the circle.

‘Our father honoured me always,’ shouted Guilliman across the empty chamber.

Fulgrim laughed, louder and louder until the Heliopolis filled with wild mirth that seemed to issue from a thousand throats. ‘Oh, forgive me! That is so precious. Do you not remember my eagle, dear Roboute? It was I who was honoured, not you.’

The rasping of scales drew closer. Luminous green eyes glinted on the other side of the inimical light. Guilliman set himself and stood tall.

‘My Legion may not have won your plaudits, Fulgrim, but I chose the slow and steady road, and that was the better way. You were always racing toward perfection, away from your fear of failure. Your fear made you run right into the arms of damnation.’

‘Failure?’ Fulgrim scoffed. ‘Damnation? I have not failed! I am not damned!’ Fulgrim slithered into the light. ‘I am saved.’

‘For the love of Terra…’ whispered Guilliman.

Guilliman had seen pict-captures of his brother from the siege of the Imperial Palace on Terra. He had viewed them many times, noting the changes wrought upon his sibling as dispassionately as he could, fighting back the revulsion he felt at the sight. Reports and the occasional image of his sibling had surfaced from his reavings since. The image on the Phoenix Gate had been no surprise. He knew what to expect, but faced with Fulgrim in the flesh, he struggled to contain his dismay.