‘Are you clear about what you are asking?’ the Lion said.

‘I am, my lord. Save our souls.’

The Lion frowned. Revus was loyal to the Emperor, but in their extremity, she and her people were failing in their loyalty to the Imperial Truth.

‘Exterminate the monsters,’ she said. ‘Send us to the embrace of the Emperor.’

The Lion was silent for a moment. The endless whine sawed its way through his skull. Then he said, ‘Very well. Make your preparations.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

He silenced the channel, then reopened communications with Guilliman and the Angel. ‘I am ordering the use of cyclonic torpedoes on Episimos Three,’ he said.

‘You said there were loyal forces still fighting there,’ said Guilliman.

‘I did. This is the liberation they request.’

‘This is precipitous,’ Sanguinius protested. ‘We did not know definitely there was a key to breaking open the barrier of the fortress until we were inside the manufactorum on Pyrrhan.’

‘The situation is different,’ said the Lion. ‘There is no victory here. Episimos Three is overrun with daemons. Nothing more. Or have you perceived something else, Sanguinius?’

‘No,’ the Angel admitted.

‘No. There is nothing to save here.’

‘Except the loyal troops themselves.’

‘Nor them. They are falling away from our father’s path. Their sacrifice is the last, best demonstration of loyalty they can still make. They know this. The planet is diseased. It must be purged.’

‘By that logic,’ said Guilliman, ‘we should destroy the entire system.’

‘I would if I could,’ said the Lion. ‘I will shatter a world sooner than stand by and let it be corrupted. So Episimos Three will die.’

Neither Guilliman nor Sanguinius answered.

‘Your silence is consent,’ the Lion said. ‘Captain,’ he turned to Stenius, ‘prepare cyclonic torpedoes for launch. Full barrage. This world is corrupt to its core. Let only dust remain.’

The command felt like a counter-attack against the malevolent resonance. The Invincible Reason had manoeuvred to place Episimos III directly before it. The smouldering planet occupied the centre of the oculus. At the edges of the Lion’s view, the corners of the great shapes intruded. He spared them a glare of hatred before he focused his attention on Episimos III. They were foul mysteries, secrets that he could not pierce, and he knew better than to try. The depths of the unknown were a reminder of the risks he was incurring in the relationship he was forging with Tuchulcha. A reminder so pointed, it was an accusation.

What would you have me do instead? he asked in a prosecutorial voice that sounded a lot like Guilliman’s. Would you have us still lost on the edges of Ultramar?

I will not. I will do what we must.

The torpedoes launched.

‘Vox,’ he said, ‘contact Colonel Revus again.’

‘The channel is open,’ the vox-officer reported, ‘but she doesn’t answer.’