A crowd of lesser daemons rushed towards them. Massak shifted his will, and the fire of his soul and the ice and lightning of his brothers’ minds blazed forth. Daemon flesh flashed to smoke; howls and cries spun into the air. He saw the great daemon swell, felt it suck strength into its being from the realm beyond. It lashed forwards. Massak saw the movement as a smear of smoke, and felt the promise of death that it carried. Dorn’s sword dragged lightning as it rose to meet the blow.

Massak’s will and thought leaped out. He felt his brothers’ pain as he yanked their minds with him. The air shrieked.

Feathers of burning gold unfolded out of nothing. Rubies of fire fell from etheric claws as the shape of their thoughts flew at the beast. It whipped around to meet it, and shadow claw met beak and talons. Blinding light flared. Daemons burst into showers of ash. Massak fell to his knees, his mind ringing. He could feel wounds opening across his body. The beast was still there, embers falling from its shredded limbs. Then Dorn struck.

In his dimming sight, the primarch’s sword was a line drawn through the storm of the warp.

Liquid fire and black blood sprayed out. The beast howled. Dorn struck again, and the daemon’s cry flung Massak down amongst his brothers. His sight was draining from him. He saw Dorn’s sword rise again, saw the great beast coming apart even before it fell. Muscle became bloody slime, bone crumbled, claws dissolved like salt in rain.

‘Samus…’ hissed a voice carried on the wind that unravelled the last of its body. ‘Samus is… coming…’

And then it was not there. And the bridge was a charnel pit of dripping blood and settling ash. Dorn alone stood on the deck. Above them, other figures were pulling themselves to their feet on the command dais. Archamus and two remaining Huscarls were hurrying to Dorn’s side as the primarch strode to where Massak was struggling to rise.

‘My son,’ began Dorn, but Massak was shaking his head. His mind was a storm of pain and echoes of thoughts that were not his own.

‘Lord…’ he began. ‘There is something wrong… The creature…’

A cry rose from high on the command dais as failed systems sparked back to life.

‘Lord Dorn, enemy ships are closing!’

Dorn was half turning.

‘No…’ said Massak, forcing the words from his lips, panting, blood running over tongue and teeth. ‘It is not gone… That was just…’

‘Samus…’

The corpse of one of the Huscarls raised its head from the deck behind Dorn. Its helm was torn. Its eyes were pits of red fire. And the dead rose into the air once more, fire bursting from within, as laughter echoed around them.

‘Samus will be your end…’