Bonar crossed the rainbow highlands and arrived at the sacred domain of the legendary god of wisdom.
Vast fields of crystal jutted from the ground like thorns, shifting ceaselessly in shape, size, and color.
Trying to navigate this Labyrinth by the laws of physics was pure delusion.
Focus too hard on the ever-changing Crystal Labyrinth and it would swallow you whole.
Tzeentch clearly despised being bothered by fools.
Even before stepping inside, Bonar could sense it clearly through his psychic power, this Crystal Labyrinth was a place even more unpredictable than the Warp itself.
Space and time churned within it like random noise.
Only a true master of genuine wisdom could enter this place.
Then a portal blinked into existence beside him, and a voice spoke directly into his mind.
Neither warm nor cold.
“Come in.”
Bonar looked at the Labyrinth.
Then at the portal.
He stepped through and landed directly in the deepest chamber, in the presence of the god of wisdom himself.
A middle-aged man in scholar’s robes.
A strange Lord of Change cradled in his right hand.
“I…
don’t have to walk through the Labyrinth?”
Tzeentch glanced at him.
“Heh.
Only fools who fancy themselves clever bother walking through that thing to come see me.
Even I would spend some time getting through it.”
Bonar scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed.
He really had just been working out how to navigate it.
Before he could think further, a massive pile of books came flying at him.
“These, and these, and this whole stack — you need to learn all of them.”
The Changer of Ways flicked his fingers, and the tomes of forbidden knowledge came crashing down on Bonar.
“Learn them as fast as you can.
If you’d rather not, that’s fine too, it doesn’t make much difference either way.”
Faced with the gifts of the god of wisdom, Bonar stood there looking rather lost.
“Hmm?
No trials?
Nothing I have to pass first?”
The Changer of Ways laughed softly.
The sound seemed to come from every direction at once, layered in many different voices.
“No.
None at all.”
A light wave of his hand, and a strange sword appeared in Bonar’s grip.
“This is the weapon capable of killing Horus.
It will teach you what to do.”
“Learn the rest on your own.
In the blink of an eye, Bonar was back where he’d started.
The Crystal Labyrinth shifted endlessly in the distance.
If not for the mountain of books piled beside him, he would have thought the whole thing was a hallucination.
He looked at the weapon in his hand, a blade with a warped, twisted edge.
Just looking at it was enough to feel the cold radiating off it.
He gave it a couple of light swings.
It felt comfortable.
He kept it.
Watching Bonar walk away, the Changer of Ways let the cool, detached mask drop.
His expression twisted into something agitated, almost feverish.
“Kairos — how far do you think this little one will go, in the end?”
The bird resting in his palm was one of the Changer of Ways’ most capable Greater Daemons.
Kairos Fateweaver.
Ever since Tzeentch had thrown Kairos into the Well of Eternity, a place even Tzeentch itself could not see through, Kairos had crawled back out impossibly ancient, and somewhat unhinged.
Its head had split into two: one that could look back into the past, one that could see into the future.
And whenever Tzeentch asked a question, one head would speak truth while the other spoke lies.
Kairos twisted its heads slightly.
Psychic light blazed from its pupils.
The Greater Daemon shuddered under the weight of fate’s torment.
Trembling, it sank to its knees in Tzeentch’s palm, and finally spoke in a shaking voice:
“He will kill the Emperor of Mankind.”
“He will kill Chaos.”
Then it collapsed into the palm and lay motionless.
Tzeentch laughed softly and cast countless threads of fate toward Bonar.
Every single one fell away like a plumb line dropping straight down.
Watching this, the Changer of Ways grew even more agitated.
“Ha!
The ‘Breaker of Fate’ — the one whom destiny will not accept.”
“The greatest ‘Change’ of all.”
The Changer of Ways had never been so exhilarated.
Across the vast span of its long existence, this was the only other uncontrollable presence it had ever encountered, besides the enigmatic and inscrutable Well of Eternity itself.
This being, so accustomed to manipulating hearts, powers, and entire civilizations, felt a thrill it had almost forgotten was possible.
At last, it could challenge fate itself.
M31, 004
Davin.
The massive fleet had returned to orbit above the planet, and this time they had brought the Imperium’s reckoning for rebellion.
Aboard the magnificent flagship Vengeful Spirit, Warmaster Horus sat enthroned in his seat of command.
The most perfect Primarch.
The one who had rendered unparalleled service to the Imperium.
But right now, he was quite troubled.
He turned the letter over in his hands.
It had come from his brother, Roboute Guilliman.
Of late, their father’s movements on Terra had set all of them on edge.
The newly established institution of Imperial governance, the Council of Terra, was the symbol of the Emperor returning the power to manage this vast Imperium back to mortal hands.
Twelve of the most powerful figures of the human race, gathered to determine the direction in which the great vessel of the Imperium of Man would sail next.
But what frightened them most was this: there was no place within it for the Astartes.
And no place for the Primarchs.
The Emperor had cast them aside.
That fear spread through the Legions.
It spread among the Primarchs.
With the Great Crusade drawing to a close, they had resolved to return to Terra and ask their father directly why he had done this.
Everyone hoped that the Emperor’s most valued son would remonstrate with him, though perhaps not in the way they were imagining.
But as Warmaster, Horus understood one plain fact, even if he was unwilling to admit it:
His father, the Emperor of Mankind, would not listen.
He had grown up in the gangs of the underhive.
He had learned to read people long before any of his brothers had.
And he understood this better than all of them.
The Emperor merely used them as tools.
Astartes and Primarchs alike.
His father saw every one of them as nothing more than instruments to further his own ends.
Nothing more, nothing less.
He would not even invest much of his attention in them, he would simply drive them all toward his goals.
Once someone failed, he would force them to their knees in repentance, as he had done to Lorgar.
Violate his requirements and you could simply be erased, the two brothers who had vanished were the clearest proof of that.
Oh, the only one he actually cared about was the Crown Prince.
Bonar.
Because he had already issued a command to every Primarch: even at the cost of their lives, they were to bring Bonar back to him.
There it was.
That was his real child.
The rest of them, these genetic monsters, were merely tools.
At that moment, his First Captain Abaddon approached.
“Father, we have reached attack orbit.”
Horus swept the stray thoughts aside.
Perhaps when they reached Terra he could settle all of this with his father.
“Attack.
I’ll lead the charge myself.
Let those traitors learn the price of betrayal.”
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