He struggled harder. His anger grew with the succeeding visions. They came faster and faster, probing his reactions, seeking the future that would be the key to his acquiescence. There would be none. The effort was futile.

But when I thought my father stood before me…

When I thought He made me regent…

When I thought I would save the Imperium…

He had almost submitted then. If he had continued to believe, he would have made the choice the daemon wanted.

The visions became more intimate. He saw his loyal brothers, alive. He saw the Emperor, alive. He saw his sons, shining and perfect. Flawless.

In the distance, there was a sudden boom, as of a knocking at an iron door. The visions trembled. The images became jagged. The booming repeated. It did not relent. It was so insistent, so real, it cracked the visions. Their lies were obvious, and he rejected them.

He was on the monstrous ship again, and Madail stood above him. The daemon leaned down. Its jaws were wide, its tongue snaking out to capture the remains of the vanished dreams. ‘Will you die, then? Will you die?’

‘I will.’ To live, he would have to become a greater monster than Horus. To save the Imperium, he must die.

The booming was louder. It drew Sanguinius’ attention away from the daemon. He twisted his head to the right. The vertical line of the portal was deforming. It shuddered to the rhythm of the thunder. Multicoloured lightning circled it and struck across the gulf of the enginarium. The daemons nearest the portal snarled in alarm.

Madail ignored the sounds of a battering ram smashing at fortress gates.

‘You will let Horus triumph.’

‘I will not.’ Sanguinius cursed his uncertainty. He could not see behind his fall. His sacrifice might be in vain. His death might be empty of meaning. Horus might triumph. The daemon’s long manipulation had weakened Sanguinius’ confidence in everything he had held as true.

Madail leaned closer. The armour-plated monster moved out of its way. ‘Will you die? Will you die? Will you die?’ The daemon repeated the question over and over, as if to a child.

‘I will!’ Sanguinius shouted back.

‘Do you understand?’ It straightened again. It called to the congregation of abominations, its tremendous voice drowning out the intensifying blasts of the portal. ‘Praise to the carnage, praise to the change, praise to gifts of the flesh and the plague!’ The choir shrieked in ecstasy. ‘Feed on the blindness, you children of Ruin. Lap the blood of the unknowing dream. By eight and by four, he chooses his fate. By eight and by four, he will have the consequence.’ Madail paused. It looked down at Sanguinius again. ‘Take the consequence, or take the lesson.’