The Dark Apostle still stood before the vibrating black obelisk, only the Traitor Marine was no longer directing the flow of warp energy at the artefact. Instead, although the Iron-Father could barely believe what he was seeing, the Apostle's conjurations appeared to be opening a hole in the air in front of the pit. Incandescent beams of an unreal spectrum of light spilled into the darkening chamber. It was as if the Chaos creature had forced a tear in the very fabric of the universe. The aperture continued to expand until it was several metres across.

The Dark Apostle stepped towards the portal, then turned and looked directly at Gdolkin. The Iron-Father felt his stomach knot involuntarily in apprehension. By the primarch, he chastised himself, he had nothing to fear from one who had turned his back on the Emperor's light!

Another block of stone crashed down from the chamber roof, clipping the edge of the obelisk and obscuring Gdolkin's view. Then the Apostle was gone.

One day, as the God-Emperor is my witness, Gdolkin vowed, there will be such a reckoning between us that our encounter shall be spoken of by the Sons of Medusa in the centuries to come.

Gdolkin turned and followed his men as they made their escape from the cavernous cathedral space.

The first of the Iron Hands, the warriors of Assault Squad Dagan, were only just emerging from the fissure in the mesa's side into the blinding light of noon when, at the heart of the cave complex behind them, the artefact detonated. The Space Marines heard and felt the blast like an underground atomic explosion.

'Get down!' Gdolkin yelled, anticipating what would happen next. 'Keep the rock behind you!'

The Iron Hands obeyed, Iron-Father Gdolkin and his two bodyguard slave-machines being the last to escape and throw themselves clear of the cave mouth.

The energy-wave of the artefact's apocalyptic destruction swept through the cave, reducing the remaining cultists' bodies to wind blown cinders. Barely two seconds after Gdolkin made it out of the caves, ripples of coruscating, emerald light blasted out of the fissure, battering the waiting Iron Eagle The bombardment threatened to turn the craft over and the Thunderhawk's servitor-pilot was only able to hold its position by activating its thrasters. The eldritch warp blast continued out into the featureless desert beyond.

The Iron Hands watched as the Shockwave from the explosion passed through the bedrock of the planet, a rippling tidal wave of sand sweeping out across the wilderness.

But the tremors continued. With a crashing roar that was so loud it was almost too thundrous to even register on the human scale of hearing as anything more than the ringing tinnitus of white noise, a section of the mesa plateau collapsed inwards. The cliff-face above Iron-Father Gdolkin shook, great slabs of sandstone breaking loose and falling towards the Iron Hands in massive chunks. The Space Marines didn't need to be given the order to move.

'Into the Iron Eagle!’' Gdolkin commanded.