Editing Story:Praise the Emperor (and Pass the Ammunition) (section)

== Epilogue: The Angels of Death ==

[[Librarian]] Castilus strode through the corridors of the noble palace, the stench of the Ruinous Powers assaulting him mentally and physically. Even behind the helmet that he wore, his nose curled and he hardened his mental walls even harder. The Librarian was a veteran of five hundred years of conflict for the [[Blood Angels]], and he had not seen a massacre as terrible as this. Billions dead, many of them raised as the living dead by foul sorcery…

He shook his head as he came to a team of [[Tactical Squad|Tactical Marines]], the battle-brothers flanking a door that had been splintered by some combat. The Sergeant of the squadron looked to her, bowing his head.

“Honored Librarian, the nobles are dead. Slain in their seats by what appears to be a long-las…permission to enter?”

“Granted, brother.”

The Tactical Marines entered in good form, their bolters raised, their armor gleaming it the ruddy red sunlight that shone through the window. Castilus stepped in after them and frowned as his mind felt the raw psychic miasma of the chamber. Before he could probe it and identify it with his Talent, Brother Vargis called out.

“[[Apothecary]]!” 

The white-painted figure that stepped into the room moved with a steady, loping gait. Apothecary Longian’s narthecium had been stained with blood, the bright red blood of a Space Marine. He had performed surgery recently. Castilus followed him to Vargis, who knelt beside a human woman. Castilus felt every inch of the five centuries that stretched between him and stepping into the Golden Sarcophagi that had completed his induction into the Chapter as he looked at her. He felt nothing for her, a puny human with skeletal thin body, wasted by misuse and lack of nutrition. Her gums ran and her teeth were loose, rotting from some form of nutrient deficiency. A vast stain of red blood covered her shoulder and arm, so she had been wounded in the fight. She was clearly plagued, but still he reached out with his psyker’s Talent.

He felt only peace within her. A serenity impossible for any sane survivor.

He jerked his talent back, lest taint seek to corrupt his mind. As he did so, Vargis asked: “Brother Longian, I find no cognem-tag…and yet, this is the uniform of the local PDF.”

“Commencing gene-scan.”

Castilus tried to squash his irritation as he turned, planning to find the apex of the foul cult that had cast the sorcery that had destroyed this world. Before he stepped away, Longian called out.

“Honored Librarian! You need to see this!”

Castilus turned. The Apothecary gestured him over, still kneeling by the woman, who murmured something under her breath, still sleeping. Castilus strode over, his armored boots thudding on the floor. He knelt beside Longian, who showed him the glowing screen of the gene-scan.

“Her name is Consuela Oblique…the Governor’s daughter.” 

Castilus stood. His hand went to the bolt-pistol that hung off the maglock on his hip. The weapon felt comfortable in his gauntleted hand and he aimed it, casually, at the woman’s chest.

“Heresy begets Retribution.”

“WAIT!”

Castilus was stunned by Longian’s forearm slamming into his own wrist. The bolt pistol went off into the glass window, shattering it, the explosive shell bursting fifty meters into open air, the overpenetration prevention system triggering in open air. Castilus glared at the smokey trail between his bolt pistol and the puff that the explosion had left. Growling, he turned to Longian.

“You must have a very good reason for this, Apothecary, for this-“

“I noted that her shoulder was not wounded.” Longian gestured to the bloody swath on the woman’s shoulder, matting the fabric against her. “And so, I did a gene-scan on the blood. And…”

He turned the gene-scan to Castilus.

And, centered in the display, was a single name.

Sanguinius.

THE END