Fear to Tread

by James Swallow

The daemon cackled through its pain, convulsing as it tried to shake free. ‘I will take your skull yet.’ The primarch’s eyes flashed with a powerful hatred. ‘If you truly do hail from the realm that men once called hell,’ he intoned, ‘when you return there, tell your kindred it was Sanguinius who threw you back.’ With a grunt of effort, the Angel took hold of the beast and shoved it over the spiked edge.

‘Your gambit has failed. Whatever these powers are that you call master, whatever irrational choice my brother Horus has made to seek a pact with them, you stand defeated this day upon the cusp of victory. Do you understand the reason why?’ ‘This one.’ The broken legionary traced the smouldering breach down the front of the shattered armour. ‘An exemplar of your kind. You were underestimated. The thirst would have taken you–’ ‘But it did not.’ Sanguinius’s face hardened with defiance. ‘Because as long as one single Blood Angel lives and breathes, he will be master of his spirit. He will not let the abyss that lies in the hearts of us all take him into darkness.’ He looked away, fierce pride in his eyes as he surveyed Raldoron and the rest of his battle-weary sons. ‘That is the truth you did not understand, the truth that Horus has forgotten. It is not the descent towards the shadow nor the rise towards the light that makes us superior. It is in the endless struggle between the two where greatness of character resides. We are tested, and we do not break.’ The Angel’s voice became a sudden shout. ‘We will never fall! Take that to my brother and tell him!’