Picters captured Sanguinius' descent from the heavens and broadcast it around the system. Flights of red-liveried gunships roared down through the layered smogs of humanity's birthplace, flying in formation over dry seabeds and the hives of worn-out continents. War-weary men and women looked skywards, and felt their hearts lift as the Lord of Angels cut across the yellow sky. That was all they saw of the Emperor's most perfect son. Like a true angel, Sanguinius soared high over the lives of mortals without once noticing them. His feet never touched Terra's common soil. He flew directly for Himalazia and the Imperial Palace at the top of the world.

The Blood Angels approached the Palace in perfect formation. Four Thunderhawks and a Stormbird touched down upon a landing platform extending from the inside of a tower near the Heavenward Gate. The remainder peeled away and made for the landing fields of the Lion's Gate spaceport. The streets were thronged by the menials of a thousand Palace organisations. Bells rang in acclamation. Floating servo-skulls and other less honoured drones buzzed overhead. The cheers of a million people were a constant noise. Flights of atmospheric craft screamed across the sky, dropping bombs of coloured smoke. Hololiths filled the air with celebratory images. Fireworks boomed and crackled over the domes and spires of the Palace.

The Blood Angels' lead craft set down in a fan, the Stormbird at the centre, their noses pointing towards the group who had come to greet the primarch.

By a large open, armoured gate, Rogal Dorn, Leman Russ, Jaghatai Khan, Malcador the Sigillite and the assembled leaders of the Imperial defence forces waited for the returned Lord of Angels. Heavily modified magi from the newly formed Adeptus Mechanicus waited with decorated generals of the Solar Auxilia, Titan princeps and a myriad others. The lords of the councils of Terra attended, if their duties allowed. The few absent had sent high-ranked deputies in their place, and primed them with elaborate apologies.

Doors opened in the gunships. From them Blood Angels leapt and ran onto the platform.

Warriors in gold and red formed an honour guard for their lord. As soon as they were arrayed, the Stormbird dropped its ramp and Sanguinius walked out. He made straight for his brothers, his pace hurried. The winds of the covered mountains ruffled the feathers of his wings.

Rogal Dorn reached out and clasped the arm of the Blood Angels' primarch.

'We are most pleased to greet you, our brother.'

Once, Sanguinius had had a radiant smile whose beauty pierced the heart. It carried only sorrow now. His eye sockets were purpled, his gaze haunted. 'My journey has been too long and fraught with unimaginable horror. I am glad to be here at last.' Sanguinius glanced over the crowd. 'Father is not here. Where is He? I could not sense Him.'

'Your father wishes you to know He is overjoyed at your return,' said Malcador.