Not long ago.
Rogal Dorn found a battered Corvus Corax within a Warp storm vortex.
In that Chaos-tainted region, two Raven Lords appeared at once, identical in appearance and presence. One was already dead. One was grievously wounded.
Even so, Dorn recognized his true brother at a glance. The other was nothing but a shoddy clone.
Dorn hauled the wounded Corax out of the storm vortex to keep him from falling into fresh danger.
Over ten thousand years, he had done this kind of thing too many times to count. He had rescued countless lost humans and left behind legend after legend.
In those stories, Dorn was described as a mysterious wanderer of the Warp, marked by a distinctive missing arm.
He aided any being who remained loyal to the Emperor, then departed without a word.
Some said that Warp-wanderer was like a solid fortress wall, able to withstand any assault and any corruption.
Reliable to the core.
More than a decade ago, Dorn had even helped a detachment of Imperial forces lost in the Warp, and briefly spoke with a warrior named Titus.
He asked whether the Imperium was safe, and received an affirmative answer.
That was the Praetorian of Terra's habit. Every time he saved someone, he asked the same question.
"How is the Imperium?"
By habit, Dorn asked the Raven Lord Corax the same thing now, hoping to get a few answers.
He did not need details. He only wanted to know whether the Imperium his father had founded still stood, and whether it still endured.
In the past, he asked more questions, but the answers were different every time.
The Imperium's darkness ran deep. Its rulers changed again and again. The situation was tangled, volatile, ever shifting.
Conflicts born of coups and faith never ceased. Neither did invasions by Chaos and xenos.
So later, he stopped asking most of it.
For a man who had lived through countless centuries, it meant nothing. He only needed to know the Imperium still existed.
What he truly wanted was to find a way to heal his father's wounds.
He had searched for ten thousand years.
"The Imperium is safe."
Once Corax emerged from the vortex, his injuries recovered rapidly.
He seemed to remember something, and a smile appeared on his face.
"In the last two hundred years, the Imperium has been recovering quickly. That Savior has governed it well. Famine, corruption, and war have all diminished drastically. It's far better than in our day."
This Liberator, this Raven Lord, cared about the Imperium more than Dorn expected. More precisely, he cared about the lives of its people.
For ten thousand years, while he hunted the traitor Lorgar, he also used a blood-red raven swarm to aid humanity and strike down heresy and evil, saving many lives.
Dorn's rock-hard expression eased.
"Then that Savior must be capable, and merciful. A blessing for the Imperium and for mankind. I hope he lives a long time…"
He was in a rare good mood. It was rare good news about the Imperium, and unexpected too. He had not anticipated such a sudden change.
Two hundred years, to a man who had drifted for ten thousand, was nothing more than a blink.
Corax noticed Dorn's empty left arm. His brow furrowed.
He asked with concern, "Brother, what happened to your left hand? Maybe I can help you heal it?"
"It can't be healed."
Dorn raised the severed limb and shook his head.
"I tried. But it involves the soul. If I get the chance, I'll install an industrial mechanical arm."
In that battle ten thousand years ago, he had suffered a curse-strike from the Chaos traitors, then been thrown into the Warp, lost for a long time.
Later, he gained the ability to return, yet he still did not go back.
The Praetorian of Terra believed that within this realm of spirit, he could find more knowledge and secrets. He could also use its rules to help the lost.
That would help the Imperium more.
After the Horus Heresy, the age of the primarchs had passed. He chose to follow the wish his father once held, to give humanity the chance to develop on its own, rather than intervening as a ruler.
Time in the Warp was both endless and fleeting. Without noticing, ten thousand years had passed, and humanity seemed to have found its own path.
That proved his father's decision had been right.
If not for the betrayal of those primarch brothers, perhaps humanity would have already reached prosperity and renewal.
"The Savior calls himself a primarch, but he is not a true primarch.
"From what the raven swarms have captured in the Warp, his real identity is human, purely human. At least, that was true before he gained power."
Corax spoke slowly, explaining what he knew of the Savior.
"From some point onward, the Savior suddenly underwent a transformation and obtained power. Perhaps it was a gift from the Master of Mankind, or perhaps something else.
"Either way, the Savior gained essential power, very similar to ours as primarchs, and then gradually began to rule the Imperium.
"And the Master of Mankind acknowledged him as well, personally influencing events to crown him…"
The Raven Lord relayed what he knew, then concluded:
"The Savior is a good man. Kind-hearted.
"Not only the Master of Mankind, but other brothers recognize him too. No one could have done better than he has."
Corax held the Savior in high regard, because that being treated the Imperium's people well. That was what Corax wanted to see.
"In that case, the Savior truly does sound worthy."
Dorn nodded, his impression improving as well.
For Dorn, anyone his father acknowledged could not be wrong.
Over ten thousand years, the Emperor had saved Dorn more than once.
Unfortunately, in the last several thousand years, the Emperor had almost never appeared at all, not even a single word.
Dorn noticed Corax's stiff, blunt way of referring to their father. His brow tightened.
"Brother. You should watch your language…"
He could not tolerate any disloyalty or disrespect toward his father, not even a trace.
He had argued with countless people over this, even when it had nothing to do with him.
"Thanks for the help, brother. I still have things to investigate. We'll talk again."
Corax realized Terra's number one hardass was about to start lecturing again.
He cut Dorn off in one clean motion and tried to leave.
But Dorn stopped the Raven Lord. He wanted Corax to return with him to Terra. They had drifted too long. It was time to go back.
He wanted to return to Terra and see their father.
Dorn's words were earnest, his gaze edged with anxiety.
"Chaos seems to be gathering strength. The Golden Throne has changed in many ways.
"I can faintly sense our father's call from within his sleep. It's like he's crying out for help.
"That cannot be a good sign. We should return to Terra, stand before the Throne, and see him with our own eyes.
"We can work together to build a stronger bastion wall for the Imperial Palace, and defend against whatever risks may come."
The Praetorian of Terra did not fully trust that the Savior and the Imperium's commanders could hold the Golden Throne against the surging tides of the Warp.
He decided to pick up his old craft again and forge an unbreakable defensive line for Terra.
This time… the enemy would never breach it again.
"I won't go see him."
Corax's reply was absolute. He refused coldly.
The Raven Lord's feelings toward the Emperor were complicated.
He had grown up in a slave society. He had tasted oppression, and led rebellion against it.
When the Emperor arrived, he recognized Corax's liberation, helped rebuild Corax's homeworld, and earned Corax's gratitude.
Corax believed in the Emperor's vision of uniting humanity and ending the era of strife, and he was willing to be loyal for it.
But gradually, Corax began to question the Emperor's identity as a "great liberator." In many ways, the Imperium repeated the oppressive structures of Corax's homeworld.
Dictatorship, high-pressure rule, and terror tactics treated human lives like weeds.
In a sense, it betrayed the original noble ideal.
Then came the Horus Heresy. Corax understood the Emperor had been forced into many choices, but what happened during that time left him guilt-ridden and hollow.
Especially the isolation at Isstvan, and the gene-seed mutation of the Raven Guard Raptors. No matter how you cut it, the Emperor had been running experiments beneath the Palace and had not protected anyone.
Corax acknowledged the Emperor as humanity's beacon, but only with a "cool respect."
When he faced the Emperor's projection before, he had even said outright, "I no longer fight for you. I fight for those you abandoned."
Toward that so-called Master of Mankind, Emperor, father, he no longer felt any warmth.
Dorn did not get angry at Corax's coldness, but his stern features hardened further.
"I know. You blame father for not saving the Raven Guard."
His voice was deep, each word landing like a hammer.
"You were ambushed by traitors at Isstvan. Half your Legion was broken, and you think father abandoned you.
"But father is not a mind-reader. He did not know his children would slaughter one another.
"I held the walls during the Siege of Terra for fifty-five days. My sons died every day. Do I have the right to say father abandoned the Imperial Fists too?
"And yet I have never said it. Because the one who holds the wall should be the first to die. Whether Imperial Fists or Raven Guard.
"We each held our own line, and in the end we did not hold.
"We failed, and father was forced to gamble everything, to go out and face the traitors in final battle.
"He gave himself for the Imperium in the most painful way, and even now he still endures."
Dorn spoke in one long surge, not giving Corax room to interrupt.
"You say father used us primarchs as tools. But have we not also failed him, and buried the Imperium's best chance?"
He stared at the Raven Lord.
"You have hunted Horus's remnants in this place of Chaos for ten thousand years. If you truly did not care about him, you would have stopped long ago.
"Corax, you say you don't care, but your actions betray you. You don't hate father.
"You hate that you can't let go.
"You haven't forgiven yourself."
Dorn lowered his voice. A trace of sorrow crept in.
"I know father is not perfect.
"But we are his sons. Our flaws are part of his bloodline too, and we are not so great ourselves.
"At the very least, we did not do as father hoped. We did not set things right, and we did not protect him.
"Brother, we made mistakes.
"But we must repair them, like repairing a collapsed wall."
Corax fell silent at those words.
After a moment, he finally spoke.
"Maybe I'll go see him. But not now.
"Here is where the raven swarms can do their work and gather more information. The Imperium needs that information.
"The raven swarms smell conspiracy. A new tide is rising, perhaps more terrifying than the rebellion ten thousand years ago.
"It may be a life-or-death struggle between the Imperium and Chaos, a final battle unlike anything before.
"I have to find the source of the plot. I have to know whether the enemy is preparing an attack, and how they intend to strike…"
When he finished, he dispersed into a blood-red raven swarm and departed.
The Raven Lord was still loyal. He had his own mission, helping humanity in his own way.
He simply did not yet know what attitude to bring when facing the Master of Mankind, that father.
He chose to continue searching within the Warp, sending the Imperium and the Savior whatever valuable intelligence he could.
He would make his contribution to that final war.
Dorn watched Corax vanish and said nothing more. He turned and walked in another direction.
He would journey home alone, to Terra, to see the father bound to the Throne.
"Ten thousand years… I wonder what Terra looks like now."
Dorn pulled his tattered robe tighter, anticipation filling his chest.
Through the nearest rift-exit, he returned to realspace, emerging in a subsidiary system region of the Sol System. He was close to Terra now.
But he did not announce himself, nor did he reveal the danger he sensed.
Until he understood more, that would only spark unrest and feed the ambitions of rebellious elements.
Using a proscribed relic, Dorn forged a false identity and slipped into a pilgrim crowd, planning to board a pilgrim ship bound for Terra.
That would get him there faster.
Once near the Imperial Palace, he would contact the Adeptus Custodes directly, enter the Throne Room, and secretly seek audience with the Emperor, his father.
Dorn had wandered too long. Caution had become instinct. He also wanted to investigate the true state of the Imperium and the Savior from the shadows.
But when he reached the docks, he found the pilgrim ship was far larger and more advanced than he expected, comparable to a major Imperial warship.
What?
Dorn was baffled. Was this really a pilgrim ship? Had some Rogue Trader funded a massive vessel?
In the Imperium's long darkness, pilgrim ships were functional craft for ordinary faithful. They were usually old, backward, almost unarmed.
Their sole purpose was to carry Ecclesiarchy pilgrims to Terra, from a few thousand to hundreds of thousands, so they could fulfill a vow that might span a lifetime, or even dozens of generations.
They were suffering made manifest. Vast populations crammed into tiny holds like cargo, barely able to move.
Only upon reaching a port could they come out, doing the filthiest, hardest cleaning work in exchange for enough food to live.
Long ago, Dorn had heard countless pilgrim ship stories.
For example, the Eternal Pilgrim. Twenty-three full generations were born and died aboard her before she reached the Sol System.
Yet in Mars orbit, the Adeptus Mechanicus seized her for quarantine, dismantling parts of the hull as scrap.
The pilgrims collectively knelt on the main deck and refused to disembark. After much blood was spilled, the Ecclesiarchy finally took pity and dispatched ships to ferry them to Terra in batches.
It was said that when the last, elderly pilgrims finally trembled onto the Palace plaza, they all knelt facing the Imperial Palace and immolated themselves.
They believed doing so would let their souls return to the Throne and receive the Emperor's blessing.
In the end, the Ecclesiarchy declared it a symbol of loyalty.
There were also countless sublight penitential ships without Warp drives. To make time, they would even skim along the edge of the Warp like skipping a stone. Pilgrims endured strict rationing and spent years in massive cryo-vaults.
But without Gellar Field protection, those ships often met grim fates. Under corruption, horrific casualties followed.
Some cases even ended with entire pilgrim populations turning into Nurgle zombies.
Certain pilgrim ships, even after being swallowed, still broadcast prayers outward:
"The God-Emperor will see our suffering!"
It was precisely because Dorn knew too much of the Imperium's darkness that he avoided asking for details.
He could not bear to hear that suffering again, and pushed himself even harder to find a way to heal his father.
He believed that if his father recovered and took the Imperium in hand again, the suffering would end.
But ten thousand years passed. Dorn still found no answer.
And now he was finally on the road home.
He worried for his father's condition. It felt like the Emperor could not endure much longer.
Dorn squeezed into the filthy pilgrim crowd, moving along the long boarding ramp.
They were about to embark on Redemption Pilgrim Ship No. 113.
These pilgrims had come from a distant sector. Their ship had been damaged beyond repair, but a pilgrim ship was willing to take them in.
That gave Dorn the chance to slip aboard.
He hunched as much as he could, trying not to stand out.
He was huge. Even with the proscribed relic's concealment, he had to be careful.
"Good. The relic's disguise is stable."
To everyone else, Dorn looked like a slightly taller abhuman.
He would be met with mild discrimination, but not enough to draw real suspicion.
In truth, in the eyes of many Imperial citizens, abhumans were weaker than humans, less threatening.
It was prejudice, but it made hiding easier.
"Stop!"
But the moment Dorn stepped off the ramp, armed guards aboard the pilgrim ship blocked him.
The atmosphere froze.
(End of Chapter)
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