Imperial Palace, Terra — Hall of the High Strategium
The air inside the Strategium shimmered faintly with the heat of overlapping holo-projectors. Tactical maps of the galaxy hovered above the grand table like a living starfield, every system a glowing ember in the shadowed chamber. Terra's highest military council stood in a half-circle around Shawn Newman.
He loomed taller than any of them now — a Primarch in all but name — his height and bearing making the massive strategium chamber feel almost too small. The Emperor's gift had not only reshaped his body but deepened his presence; when he looked at the map, every man and woman there could feel that his eyes saw more than their instruments ever could.
Valdor stood at Shawn's right, arms folded, his golden armor catching the light. "Russ's return has spurred an unprecedented recruitment surge. We've already integrated three full Space Wolf Great Companies into Haki doctrine. But you're not satisfied."
Shawn's gaze was locked on a red-marked cluster in the Eastern Fringe. "The galaxy's singing louder, Valdor. Morale is high, but it won't hold without the next blow. We need Sanguinius."
Across from them, Roboute Guilliman inclined his head. "You understand what his return would mean. It's more than morale. The Imperium still worships him as the purest symbol of sacrifice. If we bring him back—"
"—we shatter the illusion that our golden age is behind us," Shawn finished. "We make the people believe it's coming again."
Valen, leaning on his staff, closed his eyes briefly. "I can feel the warp-pocket that holds him. It is… a prison and a fortress, fed by the adoration of those who mourn him. The daemons there gorge themselves on the memory of his death."
Guilliman's expression hardened. "Then we must burn them from reality."
Eristan's voice crackled from the comm-feed. "I'll begin the construction of a vessel worthy of a Primarch's spirit. When you return with him, it will be ready to house the Angel once more."
Baal – Chapter Master Dante's War Room
The old warrior stood over his own holo-map, the red sands of Baal rendered in precise detail. The Blood Angels' Chapter Master had seen centuries of war, but the thought of Sanguinius's return set a fire in his chest that had not burned since his youth.
Around him, Sanguinary Guard veterans — each wearing the death-mask of their Primarch — listened in silence as Dante read Shawn's transmission aloud.
"Prepare Baal for the Angel's return. Clear the skies of any warp interference. Keep your successors at readiness. When I come, it will be swift."
A low murmur swept through the chamber. One of the Guard, Azkael, removed his mask, revealing eyes wet with restrained emotion. "If this is true, then no daemon, no god, no shadow will stand."
Warp Transit – Shawn's Flagship "The Ember Vow"
The storm of the Immaterium clawed at the Gellar Fields, but within the command sanctum, Shawn and Valen stood side by side, studying the warp-scry projection.
Valen spoke without looking away. "They will come for us before we breach the prison. They know if Sanguinius rises, they lose their greatest symbol of hope's defeat."
Shawn's Conqueror's Haki rolled outward like an invisible tide, the very metal walls humming faintly. "Let them come. We're bringing him home."
Valdor's voice came from the tactical pit below. "Wolves are in formation on our port flank. Custodes spearheads at your signal. Grey Knights at the fore for the breach."
Warp-Pocket Prison – The Daemon Host
Inside the shifting, blood-lit expanse, the prison's master — a monstrous Greater Daemon of Khorne clad in brass and burning shadow — stood guard over a throne of chains. And upon that throne, wings bound in barbed iron, head bowed but eyes still sharp, sat Sanguinius.
The Daemon's voice rumbled like collapsing mountains. "They come for you, Angel. The golden pretender and his pet wolves."
Sanguinius lifted his head, and though his voice was quiet, it carried across the endless crimson plain. "Then they come for you, beast."