Sanguinius followed the golden road of this future. There was an end to the war. There was an end to the Crusade. And now he was on Terra again. He walked with the Emperor in a cloister adjacent to the throne room. It was a small space, reached by a door unnoticeable in the grandeur and colossal scale of the chamber. Sanguinius had no memory of being here before. The colonnade enclosed a garden of fountains. Each sculpture was a bronze and gold orrery of the star systems of the Emperor’s loyal sons. Streams of water leapt from the centre of one orrery to another, forming a web of connections. In the gaps where the fountains of the traitor primarchs had been, there now stood silver trees. Their trunks were engraved with the names of the decisive battles of the war. Their branches linked overhead, creating another web. The garden was the strength of the Imperium. It was resilience and the bonds of loyalty.

It was also peace.

‘I have tarried long enough,’ the Emperor said.

‘I understand,’ Sanguinius said. ‘Your great work cannot be left unfinished.’

‘Not if the Imperium’s future is to be considered. The Crusade is complete. Now, our vigilance to preserve what it accomplished must be eternal. We have prevailed against the forces that would have destroyed it, but we have not destroyed them. Their jealousy is great. They will always be outside the gates.’

‘They came very close to breaching them.’

The Emperor bent His head, acknowledging the justice of the mild rebuke. ‘I thought I could raise walls of psychic defence so high they would shut out Chaos forever. I knew that awareness of the daemonic was dangerous in and of itself. I hid that know­ledge from all of you, thinking I was protecting you and all we had accomplished together. I was wrong. My hubris has had a terrible cost. At least you know, now, why I cannot remain amongst you.’

‘I do, Father.’ The admission was difficult. He did not want to admit that the joy of being at the Emperor’s side again was to be short-lived. He did understand, though. And there was comfort in knowing that the purpose of the Legiones Astartes was assured. They would always be needed. They would be the eternal guardians on the material and psychic ramparts of the Imperium.

‘Then I think you know what I am going to ask of you.’

Sanguinius caught his breath. He stopped walking in a corner of the colonnade. The Emperor walked on another few steps, His great stride taking Him almost halfway down the shorter end of the quadrangle. He paused and looked back at the Angel. His smile was kind. His eyes were solemn.

Sanguinius forced his legs into motion. He caught up to the Emperor. ‘Father,’ he said, ‘we cannot repeat history.’

Water leapt from fountain to fountain. The sound was the murmur of duty.