Zadkiel followed his gaze and saw a knot of wasted figures, shackled to the sphere by cords of coruscating light. Their bodies were blackened and broken, but they were alive, twitching in agony as their life-force fuelled the rituals that powered the throne room. There were similar clusters at the base of all the spheres, tormented souls doomed never to die. Ornate pipes had been jammed into their gaping mouths, capturing their screams and transforming them into the beautiful hymn that was billowing around the spheres. Zadkiel saw no irony in Magnus talking of saving humanity while his throne room was fuelled by their death throes. Ascension was for the few, not the many. When the New Kingdom came, it would be for worthy souls. Not the wretched, ungifted masses.

‘I will help you enlighten them, majesty,’ said Zadkiel, stepping closer, raising his crook staff.

Magnus laughed. There was no cruelty or artifice in the sound. It was deep and unreserved and it reminded Zadkiel of simpler times – when he marched at the Crimson King’s side, both of them still physical beings, prosecuting the Emperor’s vainglorious Great Crusade.

‘Zadkiel the Vulture means to help me.’ Magnus looked at the circle of Rehati. They laughed, hesitantly. ‘I am on the cusp of reclaiming all that we have lost,’ continued Magnus, ‘and the Vulture tells me he can help. Pray how, old friend? How will you help me?’

‘Ascension has begun,’ said Zadkiel, speaking quickly, ‘as you so rightly claim, your majesty. Everywhere, the human mind is blossom­ing. The new is diverging from the old. The weak is growing strong. The spirit is divesting itself of the flesh. And it is happening in every corner of the galaxy. But it is slow. Slower than we need. All who are worthy of you will find their way here, but so will the Corpse Emperor’s fleet. You have already been attacked and it will happen again. Mankind is changing, yes, but not fast enough.’

Magnus’ laughter died and he slumped back in his throne, a mountain of muscle and contempt. ‘What do you wish to tell me, Vulture? What do you propose?’

Zadkiel abandoned the elaborate preamble he had prepared and said, simply: ‘The Nine Sacraments.’

Magnus laughed again, but it was no longer a happy sound. He waved a dismissive hand.

‘I have found a way,’ said Zadkiel before Magnus could speak. ‘It is possible.’

Lights flickered between the spheres, making the wretches fuelling them stiffen and twist. Magnus gripped his glaive tighter and glared at Zadkiel. It was a look that would have disintegrated a mortal but Zadkiel weathered it in silence.