Clang... Clang... Clang!
As the transport vessel settled into orbit above Terra, the clear, lingering toll of a bell began to reverberate across the entire throneworld. Even within the void-ships far above the atmosphere, the sound was audible.
This singular phenomenon struck Axion with a rare sense of bewilderment. He did not yet realize that these chimes had pierced the void to blanket the entirety of the Imperial demesne. The great bell began its cadence the moment the transport entered orbit, striking exactly ten thousand times.
Every soul who heard the tolling was plunged into an inexplicable state of mourning, though the vast majority of Imperial citizens had no inkling of its significance. Across a multitude of worlds, preachers and cardinals of the Ecclesiarchy abandoned their opulent cathedrals to walk the hives, proclaiming the creed and the Emperor's will. They told the masses that this sound was a miracle granted by the Master of Mankind, the manifest sorrow of the Great Emperor himself.
Simultaneously, deep within the subterranean vaults of the Imperial Palace, a single tear escaped the eye of the withered husk upon the Golden Throne. The sight was witnessed by the Custodians on eternal vigil.
While the administrative heart of the Imperium descended into a frantic scramble to discover why the lost Bell of Lost Souls was tolling, the Dawn of Fire emerged from the Warp into the Solar System.
Roboute Guilliman had returned to Terra, bringing the Lion back from the dark. Even within the shifting tides of the Empyrean, both Primarchs had heard the bell's clarion call. The Lion, in particular, had felt the profound sorrow emanating from the heavens above.
Just as Guilliman and El'Jonson reached the landing pads outside the Imperial Palace, the Iron Men's heavy transports made a synchronized touchdown. A contingent of Imperial Fists, serving as the Terrestrial Sentinels, stood guard over the airfield. The "clankers" had provided only a curt notification that they were delivering a shipment to Terra, without specifying the nature of the cargo.
The assembly was stunned by what emerged.
The tail ramps of the massive transports hissed open in succession. Cold, silver Sapient Machine Automatons filed out, bearing metallic crates which they laid out in grim rows across the landing field. The sealed crates offered no hint of their contents, but their sheer number prompted the Imperial Fists to level their bolters in wary suspicion.
A heavily armed detachment of the Adeptus Custodes, having received word of the arrival, marched out from the Palace in force. They joined the Imperial Fists in a tense perimeter, watching the unloading machines. Captain-General Trajann Valoris immediately spotted the newly arrived Guilliman and Lion El'Jonson.
Guilliman, well aware of the Lion's friction with these mechanical entities, kept his brother at a slight distance, curious to see what new "gift" Axion had conjured for the Imperium.
Soon, however, the cargo became disturbingly recognizable.
Broken tanks bearing the heraldry of the Imperial Fists; shattered jetbikes of the White Scars; a fractured Knight suit in the colors of the Ultramarines; and various armaments belonging to the Dark Angels and Blood Angels, alongside several Dreadnought chassis.
Then came the equipment stripped down to alloy skeletons, pieces that bore the unmistakable silhouettes of Adeptus Custodes panoply. Though the Auramite was nowhere to be seen, the Custodians present recognized the structural designs instantly. Such patterns had remained virtually unchanged since the Emperor first ascended the Golden Throne.
Silence fell over the crowd at the sight of such vast, ruined materiel. Looking at the field of metal crates, Trajann Valoris suddenly realized the truth.
The automatons, sensing the presence of the authorities, noted the fury mounting on the Lion's face and the stunned, restraining grip Guilliman held on his brother's arm. Seeing the Dark Angels relics, the Lion's first instinct was that these dangerous machines had committed some atrocity against his sons.
Guilliman was more rational. He noted that the haul included relics from the Ultramarines, Imperial Fists, Blood Angels, and White Scars, he even caught a glimpse of wargear common to the Raven Guard. By the time the piles of Custodian equipment appeared, his sorrow had been eclipsed by astonishment.
An automaton stepped forward, weaving through the gathered crowd to stop before the Lord Regent. It bowed slightly.
"Esteemed Covenanter Roboute Guilliman, it is an honor to encounter you here. I am Unit ZC-665482. I have been dispatched by the Command Core to deliver a collection of relics and remains to Terra. Since you are present, may I entrust these items to your care for proper disposition?"
The automaton's tone was unnervingly humble and deferential. It sent a shiver through the observers, the Lion included. Every intelligent machine possessed varying degrees of independent processing; unless Axion took direct control, they exhibited their own distinct "personalities." A mere delivery task was beneath Axion's direct attention.
Guilliman nodded slowly, his voice tight. "Where did these come from?"
"All items and remains were recovered from within the Webway."
The realization hit Guilliman like a bolter shell. He finally understood why there was so much Custodian wargear. The Lion's rage dissipated into a cold, hollow dread.
The two Primarchs stepped forward, each carefully unlatching a metal crate. A shattered Astartes corpse lay within the first box. Guilliman looked down upon a warrior of the White Scars. The Lion opened another to find a body clad only in the undersuit of power armor; the face bore a horrific wound, making identification difficult.
Trajann Valoris, seeing the Primarchs opening the "blind boxes," stepped forward to lift a lid himself. Inside was a Blood Angel, severed at the waist. Valoris looked at the warrior's face, frozen in a snarl of righteous fury, and let out a heavy sigh.
He finally understood for whom the Bell of Lost Souls was tolling.
The atmosphere turned funereal. The Lion stood in silence, his eyes heavy with a mix of gravity and grief. At last, he spoke.
"These brave warriors were the pride of the Imperium. They defined loyalty and courage with their lives. Their passing is a wound to the realm, but their deeds shall be etched into our hearts forever."
His voice was deep and resonant, carrying the weight of age and exhaustion. Guilliman squeezed his brother's shoulder before turning to the Imperial Fists who stood frozen at their posts.
"Open every casket. Identify every soul. Secure the remains and notify their parent Chapters to come to Terra and bring their brothers home."
The Imperial Fists looked to the Custodians, then to the Primarchs. Under the command of Tor Garadon, half the company moved forward to begin the grim task of identification. Valoris signaled his Custodians to assist.
Unlike the silent Imperial Fists, the Custodians occasionally broke the stillness with gasps of recognition.
"This is Tribune Helios?! I have seen his portrait... his face is ruined, but I know him."
"Jasarico! By the Emperor's throne..."
"Could this be... Cade Velarcan?"
…
Beyond the legendary names of the Ten Thousand, the Custodians were perplexed by one detail: every one of their brothers had been stripped to the armor's frame. Their iconic golden plate was nowhere to be found.
As the crates were opened, they also discovered many skeletons of mortal stature. These remains emitted a potent anti-psychic field. The gathered crowd recognized them instantly, the Sisters of Silence. Though long dead, their remains were an incredibly precious asset to the Imperium, especially in an era of rampant Chaos and psychic instability.
"My Lord," an officer whispered to Trajann, "what shall we do with the remains of these Null-Maidens?"
——————
If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)