He was dying, dying from old age and neglect, and there would be no heroes to resurrect him as they had Guilliman. The baleful howl of the warp awaited.

The bell tolled again.

There is release from this suffering, the bell sang. There is joy in pain. Pledge yourself to Father Nurgle and never fear mortality again. Become eternal, become a vector of life. Join the neverending dance and be merry.

A light penetrated the dismal world that Felix inhabited. He lifted his head from the ground on his age-weakened neck and saw the glowing figure of Codicier Maxim striding through the grey, his blue armour as pure as sapphire, the green shoulder pad of his Aurora Chapter insignia as bright as virgin forest leaves.

‘Stand firm! Pay no heed! It is but a poison of the warp!’ bellowed Maxim. His voice strained as he spoke. The crystal rods and tracks of his aegis hood glowed with fierce counter-wychfire.

The bell tolled again. Maxim’s image flickered. He approached Felix.

‘Captain! You must finish the herald, or we shall fail.’

Felix raised a shaking hand, the last fragments of rusty armour falling from his fingers. Maxim grasped him arm, and suddenly he was armoured, young and full of the power of the Emperor. The grey world crumbled as if made of dust. He was in the feasting hall again.

‘Go, now!’ said Maxim. ‘I shall shield you.’

The bell rang. Felix took the psychic impact with a grunt.

While the Primaris Space Marines were reeling from the bell’s dolorous effects, the Death Guard renewed their attack, regrouping while reinforcements made their way in from some of its many entrances. He had to act now.

Holding aloft his power sword, he leapt over the edge of the balustrade, landing in the middle of his foes. He recovered well and barged past a Traitor Space Marine, desperate to slay the bell-toller before Maxim’s power gave out. Warriors came at him but he smote them down, crushing the chest of one with a blow from his gauntlet, eviscerating a second with a reverse cut of his power sword.

Heart, heart, head – the mantra for combat against other Adeptus Astar­tes, doubly important when fighting the resilient Death Guard.

Despite their toughness, Felix cut them down economically, guarding his movements against excessive flourishes that may expose him. A brief burst from his boltstorm gauntlet mashed the head of a bloated giant whose armour joints sported fringes of tentacles. The traitor fell to his knees, his additional limbs spasming and falling limp.