Yesssss...cliffhangers...my fanfic's full of them- mwahahahaha!

I promise it will be the last for this book, gonna give myself a congratulatory clap here because we've reached another milestone, and pretty much to end of the Lupercalian Redemption phase. And for that, I thank my dearest readers for their continued support ( especially to those who took the time to share some of their awesome ideas to make this fic easier to comprehend )

Also, I'm shivering in disgust over what I've written here ( still am, yeeeks ) but it is a necessity. After all, imagining the most disgusting things on earth is but a mere glimpse of the glorio- sorry, almost wrote something heretical there- foulness of Nurgle's Realm. Totally worth it.

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His arms were hot with fresh ichor, his own blood pounded hard in his ears that it blotted out the din of the approaching horde and the dying screams of the slain. The edges of his vision blurred, but the middle was one of focus. In these moments, it was not fear that guided him.

No, only a heightened sense of things.

Leman Russ snarled, hit mouth hung agape, allowing the frothing spit to dribble down his blood-red beard. "MOOAAAARRRRHHH!" The incoherent bellow rang above the noise of battle, "COME AT ME, YOU FEKKING BASTARDS OF THE WARP!" His axe cleaved left and right, and he gained another mile as he used the mountain of bodies in front of him as stepping stones. He could smell the overpowering stench of decay, the scent of a billion rotting corpses in the winds of that hellish place.

He was close, very close.

Suddenly, the very ground he now stood upon shifted and moved! Leman leaped off the ledge and turned heel to investigate, finding to his surprise that the thing he and all those daemons treaded on was in fact a gargantuan titan of half-rotted flesh and metal!

The domain of Nurgle in the Realm of Chaos was not a barren wasteland, but a macabre paradise, a near-infinite jungle of death and pestilence. Tended by the Lord of Decay, this unwholesome realm was home to every pox and affliction imaginable. Twisted, rotten boughs entangled with grasping vines covered the moldering ground, entwining like broken fingers. Fungi, both plain and spectacular, broke through the squelching mulch of the forest floor, puffing out clouds of choking spores. And those 'fortunate' enough to earn the Lord of Decay's favor were tasked to defend his precious paradise.

The Titan was just one of them.

Leman stood undaunted, and he prepared himself to make the blind leap back into the fray. The Titan was no major obstacle to him, only a wall that needed to be broken down. But as he took the first three steps, a string of surgically detonated warheads tore the ancient guardian apart and sent burning debris flying in all directions! Leman halted, confused as to where the attacks came from.

He saw them, a collection of Imperial vessels breaking through the skies of the Rotted Realm. Their massive guns bombarded the cursed earth, and tore apart the gates of the Plague Lord's Garden. Like him, they were now trapped in this damned place, unable to wriggle free unless to carve their way out. Leman waited from below, watched as the hangars opened like hives, spewing forth Thunderhawks and drop-pods that carried his astartes reinforcements.

Much time had passed since his departure, he knew this to be so. Just how much had changed since then?

The Thunderhawks descended and touched the cursed earth, then the hatches opened. The spacemarines within marched out with bolters drawn. They were Luna Wolves!

Leman Russ gripped his axes firmly and bellowed out a mad roar, "TRAITORS! YOU WILL NOT HAVE ME!" He charged forward and swung wildly, obviously exhausted after a millennia of nonstop fighting. He missed, and the Luna Wolves parted to give him a wide berth. He seriously injured many who were unfortunate enough to stand in his path, but he killed none. "COME ON! YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO PAY FOR IT IN BLOOD!" Leman laughed, then froze as a towering figure loomed over his battered and spent form.

It was Horus!

"What the fekk is this? An illusion? Some trick Magnus has played upon my mind?" Leman wondered out loud, "Impossible, you're dead!"

"I was dead, true enough." The Primarch of the Luna Wolves replied, motioning for his sons to move back to give the confused Leman Russ ample space. "But this is no illusion, brother, I-

"Good." Leman snarled, feeling his strength returning as his anger surged through his veins. Whatever vile magic had brought Horus back, the mastermind behind the Imperium's ruination, it would not save him from Leman's wrath. And so the Space Wolves' gene-sire rose up and struck out at his brother, completely unaware of the Space Wolves presently arriving on site to clarify and explain the events that transpired over the years. He didn't care, for the bloodlust in him demanded to be sated.

On Horus' part, however, he was not about to let himself be pummeled to the ground like the time Guilliman vented out his own frustrations upon him. No, for this time there were larger things at stake. He would have to explain to Leman Russ in the manner that he would be in a mind to listen- and that was through tiring him out through combat. And so Horus engaged Leman in his highly coveted duel.

"So you've finally decided to finish the job yourself, eh?" Leman challenged, "Tired of letting Angron and Magnus do your dirty work for you?! Sully your hands now, Warmaster! Feel the true spirit of battle, and the desperation that comes with it!"

"You don't usually talk this much during a battle." Horus mused as he parried his brother's wild strikes with ease, "Go on then, say everything you've wanted to say."

Leman didn't answer, he moved instead to shut him up.

"Now's a good chance as any." Horus beckoned, watching the arms on Leman grow slack with the weight of exhausted muscles. Horus lowered his guard, "Will you let me finish now?"

While the two Primarchs dueled in that cesspit, Chapter-Master Logan Grimnar and his battle-brothers arrived at the scene and rushed forward to restrain their maddened Primarch. "My lord, stop this!" Leman struggled, still feeling the burning agony of his hatred roiling within his heart, and managed to shake off free from the iron grip of his sons. But gradually, Leman's mind registered the friendly voice of his trusted advisers. Logan, especially.

"You too, Logan?" His voice broke. Had Horus' influence tainted even the best of his sons?

"No, my lord! We are not traitors!" Logan defended, his face inches from his gene-sire's face as he held him with all his strength. "Calm yourself and listen to reason! Things here are not as they seem!"

Grief overwhelmed Leman, and he felt himself weaken in the grip of his sons. "Speak plainly then!" He screamed, "What is the meaning of this, but of more trickery!? More lies and deceit?!"

Logan struck the Primarch across the cheek to force him back to a more sensible mind, and he bellowed into his gene-sire's face. "Listen, you mad fool! The longer we prattle here trying to drive sense into your addled mind, the more dangerous it becomes for us and all the legions who have come to save you! Primarch Horus is no longer your enemy! The Emperor ordained it so, and he has redeemed himself in the time you abandoned us to gallivant into the Warp!"

At a loss for words, Leman looked about him in desperation. His eyes took in the many new faces, hidden beneath the visages of Imperial helms. There stood not a single tainted one among them, he realized too late, and it proved Logan Grimnar's words true.

What was going on?

"And you!" Leman cried out at Horus, "What is your involvement in all this?!"

"I am here to save our father, Leman." Horus answered. "I am here to save all of us."

She felt it, faint but there, like the rustling of the grass and shaky summer leaves in the wind. Isha lifted her tired eyes to the dim light of her prison, watching the diseased bulk of her captor hunched over his cauldron, cooking up another foul concoction for her to drink. She felt the presence of her savior, the god of mankind, as he drew near.

He was weakening, fading, she knew this as much as he did. But the hour for their revivification was at hand. "Soon, very soon..."

"Eh? What was that, my dear?" Nurgle rumbled, "Sorry, I was busy handling something...for it seems that we have guests..."

"Soon, I will be free..."

Leman Russ listened intently to Horus' tale, and his anger evaporated. The arms that held him in place fell lax, and he dropped to the ground, his purpose renewed. He believed the story of redemption, of how Horus saved countless lives in the battle for Cadia and how he restored Guilliman to the throne of Ultramar. As for Corax, he was just glad he came out of his shell early and found his purpose once again. With so many allies to vouch for him, Horus was indeed redeemed in the eyes of his brother, and he rejoiced inwardly at this small fortune.

What he didn't like was the revelation of what he sought all this time. "The Tree of Life is a xenos god?!" His reaction was just as violent as his sons when they heard their Chapter-Master reveal it unto them. "All that effort, wasted on a XENOS GOD?!"

"It is not wasted, our father had instructed us to find her that we may bring her to him." Horus explained, "It is the only way we can bring him back from death." Also, it was the only way he could right his wrong, the final wrong.

"My lords, the forces of Chaos stir!" A Luna Wolf warned, "They close upon the Gates!"

Horus turned to his followers and raised his spear, "There is no time to lose! We are fortunate to have arrived directly atop the Blighted Gardens of Nurgle, but that only means their greatest champions will be directly in our path! Rally together, do not let them separate us, for only under the shield of Soulrender will you find equal footing against this scum!" Afterwards he regarded his brother grimly and said, "And you, brother, make your decision quickly. Stand by me, or stand aside..."

Horus' captains led their specialist squads in key positions, with their Primarch directly at the helm to cast a protective bubble of pure psychic energy over his legion. Prometheum flames drenched the enemy as they were roused from their slumber. The young legion of the Luna Wolves were well adjusted to any type of enemy, but there was that one exception when it came to those of the Immaterium. They no longer fought against those of mortal hands, but those of a power that rivals that even of the God Emperor himself!

Grandfather Nurgle purposely allowed the uninvited guests entry from the start, but as they trampled upon his feculent bogs and burned his tenderly cultivated Gnarlmaw trees, it greatly displeased him. And so, with but a wave of his diseased bulk of a hand, he dispatched his most loathsome champions and titans against the Lupercalian Crusade.

Spoilpox Scriveners and Plaguebearers, Glitchlings and Nurglings, spurred onwards by Bilepiper trumpeters, they all came to give the troublesome humans the only equal measure of animosity that befitted the desecration of the Garden's sanctity. Plague Hulks rose up from the slop-filled filth that covered much of the rivers that flowed beneath the boughs of dead trees. Beneath the chassis of the machine supports, a maggot-ridden mass of daemonic flesh, and at the center of which sat a maw capable of vomiting a tide of filth that can rot flesh and corrode metal.

In command of these horrid legions of daemons and daemon-engines was the Chief Gardener Horticulous Slimux, Grand Cultivator of the Dark God Nurgle. He sat upon his molluskoid mount Mulch, with gardening shears in hand to drive the invaders out, barking orders to his blighted brethren and echoed the words of his master.

"You should never have come here, Horus Lupercal!" He rumbled, "The Grandfather had shown much patience for your insolence, even with the annihilation of his favored champions, but he will not suffer this insult! Prepare to die!"

"You first." Horus answered grimly, moving forward as his legion cut down and burned a path through the tide of filth and decay. Many a spacemarine met his end through the battle to claim good ground over the Garden, but every death served to harden the Luna Wolves' resolve and so they pressed on. Then, when the Space Wolves arrived to lend a hand, they hammered down harder upon the daemonic legions in spite of their numbers.

Among these heroes stood Bjorn the Fellhanded, a venerated dreadnought and another ancient hero from a bygone era. His iron priests outfitted him with the finest flamers and blessed his engine with the strength of the ages so that he may never tire nor fail in the midst of glorious combat. The lumbering juggernaut of ceramite and plasteel broke formation and attacked the largest of the plague hordes, easily snuffing them out of existence as he cast balefire and prometheum from the twin blasters mounted on his dreadnought's right arm. On the other, a lightning claw was affixed, and with this he carved a swath through the pressing waves, never once stopping even as the bile and blood threatened to clog his gears.

"Burn them all! BURN THEM ALL!" Brother-Captain Galio roared, raising his powersword high and chopping a plaguebearer in half from neck to groin.

Leman Russ, with his armor still rent and torn in many places, took up arms and joined his sons for another go against the forces of Nurgle. He relished the opportunity to reveal his might to the younger Space Wolves, and through this his exhausted body found new strength. As Horus held the deadly atmosphere and corrupting influence of the Garden at bay with his spear and the Rose, Leman defended his brother from the daemons who proved foolhardy enough to try and lay him low.

Horus regarded him with a welcome gaze and nodded, Leman returned it with a firm but acknowledging expression and went back to killing.

Little by little, the Luna Wolves pushed back the overwhelming daemon hordes until Horus came face to face with the Grand Cultivator himself. He walked forward with his spear raised high to further push against the corruption of the Garden's atmosphere, seemingly defenseless to the foolish eye, but Horus was armed with yet another artifact- the Nebula Gauntlet.

He merely had to grasp the air before him, and the artifact of mankind's lost age took hold of Slimux and held him by the throat in mid-air! The Greater Daemon choked and gagged, "Wha-what trickery is this?!"

Horus smiled and clenched his fist harder, summoning all the power Soulrender could muster and expelled all that lay before the Crusade with one mighty burst of holy light. Afterwards, he quickly shoved the blade through the vulnerable Gardener and withdrew to cast another protective bubble around his men. Slimux fell to rotted earth, his diseased bulk suddenly alight with hellfire, reminding him that his time in all existence has ended. In desperation, his clawed hand latched onto Horus' leg as he moved past. The pain caused him to scream out, and Horus looked down at the suffering daemon with unmatched contempt.

"Reap what you have sown, daemon." Horus said as he pulled away from the dying Cultivator. He turned to his sons and the allies that stood with them, "Forward! We are all so close now!" The Primarch of the Luna Wolves then ordered a tenth of his forces to set up an artillery position that they may bombard the walls of the blighted citadel in which the Dark God Nurgle resided with his captive goddess.

The most powerful of the Rune Priests were set to work, for the gates of Nurgle's crumbling ruin of a mansion stood stronger than any fortress mortal eyes had ever beheld. Their spells worked against the hard, cracked concrete and burned out the festering vines that acted as a preliminary wall. The mansion shook as the shells, powerful enough to shatter islands and tear continents asunder, detonated at pinpoint key locations.

These actions prompted the Garden's guardians, now enraged by the sheer insolence of the armies of mankind, to fight even harder to keep them at bay...alas, it was too late. The Lupercalian Crusade had the momentum, and they would stop at nothing to gain what they've sought.

The massive, aged doors burst open, and the Wolves entered the blood-soaked threshold. Upon entering that sickening abode, the Luna Wolves and the Space Wolves reeled in abject horror as they beheld the Plague God in all his feculent splendor! Very few got this close to witnessing such depravity, such obscenity, and yet that would never be counted as a triumph in of itself!

Nurgle, the form of a titanic flesh-hulk riddled with decay and pestilence. His gigantic carcass, bloated with corruption and exuding an overpowering stench that gnaws the mind. His skin was greenish, leathery and necrotic, its surface abundant with running sores, swelling boils and fruitful infestation. Nurgle's gurgling and pulsating organs were rank with the excrement of decay, spilling and spurting through his ruptured skin to hang like obscene fruit around his girth. From these organs burst swarms of tiny Nurglings that chew on Grandfather Nurgle's rotting intestines and suck upon his bountiful, noxious juices.

He had no army to back him, for the Dark God never needed one to face the foolish sons of mankind. His Nurglings were but spectators, jeering at the enemy and cheering after the Grandfather of all. He turned from his cauldron, hand still holding firm to the long, rusted stirring rod. His pocked-marked lips parted to reveal row upon row of decaying, yellow teeth, and he smiled upon the invaders.

"Welcome..." His voice addressed, an eerily slithering, slurping noise that stirred the bowels of all who heard it. He guffawed, "You should've sent word you were coming, I would've prepared a feast!"

Horus frowned, looking beyond the massive bulk of the Dark God to see the Goddess Isha for the first time. Trapped in that cursed, rusted cage, she gripped the bars and looked back at him. She was beautiful beyond compare, and Horus' heart went out for her plight.

She must be freed.

"I think I understand why the Emperor wants her now." Captain Galio remarked.

"Not another word." Horus warned, drawing his spear to ready himself against the coming battle. Nurgle grinned and grabbed a dipper to fill it with the bubbling broth cooking within his cauldron. With this, he drenched the astartes with a splash of the noxious substances and reveled in the cries of anguish as they dissolved into goop.

Horus snarled, a sound echoed only by the Wolf King as the two Primarchs charged at the Dark God. Nurgle waved his hand and a swarm of daemonflies suddenly assaulted the two assailants, halting them where they stood as they stopped to deal with the thousand, stinging and biting poxbugs. Their transhuman bodies sprouted lesions and pustulating boils that spewed thick, yellow pus as they succumbed to the effects of the plague horde. Horus gasped in agony, but fought and persevered through the trial and burned away the daemonfly swarm with but a thought through Soulrender.

The Rune Priests, the most powerful of the psykers in Leman Russ' retinue, seized this moment to aid their Primarch and wrapped Nurgle's flabby limbs with thick, ethereal chains that held him in place for the vengeful Sons of the Emperor to attack.

"Hurry, my lords!" Njal Stormcaller roared, feeling the very touch of unlife seeping into his mind. "He is powerful indeed! We cannot hold him for long!"

"You fools, you struggle not against mere acolytes or daemons!" Nurgle roared with laughter, setting cracks upon his shackles as he strained against them. "YOU FIGHT A GOD!"

Horus struck the first blow he could ever muster against the patron of decay, but the godspear only managed to open an inconsequential wound across Nurgle's already gashed and bloated stomach. In response, the Nurglings within him burst free and attacked the Primarch in swarms, leaving him open for the god to have his due!

"I AM THE DESTINY OF ALL THINGS, HORUS LUPERCAL! AND I WILL NOT BE DENIED!"

"My lord, look out!" Captain Galio cried, barreling forward without a thought to his own safety as he moved to save his gene-sire.

With a loud snap, the ethereal chains shattered, and Nurgle swiped blindly for where he thought Horus would be. Instead, his meaty hands grasped a smaller, lesser Luna Wolf astartes that was Captain Galio. Disappointed, he crushed the man in a punishing grip and tossed his broken corpse aside to feed the slime hounds outside the chamber.

Horus looked on in horror, then rage at the death of one of his First-Captains. "YOU WILL PAY DEARLY FOR THAT!"

As Nurgle welcomed the assault, Leman Russ stood between them and hacked at the extended hands of the Dark God. "No, Horus! Get what we came for!" He reminded his brother of their mission, snapping Horus out of his blind lust for vengeance...

So many astartes died and were dying to this godsforsaken realm, and if they left without Isha it would be all for naught.

The Emperor watched, feeling his strength waning as the tethers to his spirit and mortal body slowly evaporated.

They were so close, so very close to having what he needed. Isha needed to be saved, for him in turn to be saved, ultimately for mankind to be saved. With that in mind, the Master of Mankind closed his eyes and summoned enough of his reserved power to call upon his faithful to aid his sons in their endeavors. Like moths to the flame, the Legion of the Damned and all the undying saints at his command, surged through the winds of the Warp to perform one mad and desperate attempt to distract the Plague God while Horus wrested his captive away to safety.

The last breaths of his strength were diverted to preserving his consciousness in time for Horus' return to Terra, and with that the protection of the Capital itself and the Astronomican weakened significantly.

This, in turn, invited all manner of tribulation for mankind. But this was a necessary sacrifice, the Emperor only hoped there would be enough of an Imperium left to save when he was done.

Horus strained against the bars, feeling the rusted hinges protest and groan at his attempt to tear it free.

Bright lights danced behind him, but he paid no heed as he put in every ounce of strength in his body to open the damned cage. Isha stood back, but her eyes were fixed on something else. She witnessed as the Dark God Nurgle, her captor and torturer, suddenly become overwhelmed with thousands upon thousands of beings alight with purifying flames! The haunting legend of the Legion of the Damned was known across the galaxy, and even nonbelievers spoke of such things in hushed tones. These silent warriors were spacemarines in appearance, their black armour adorned with images of bones and fire, believed to be preserved in the Immaterium through the will of the Emperor himself.

The saints battled against the wretched giant, swatted out of existence as he flailed about to rid himself of them.

"Come on! Come on, you son of a bitch!" Horus swore as he pulled with all his might at the stubborn cage door, reeling suddenly as it came apart in his hands. With his heart beating wildly at this accomplishment, Horus took Isha by the hand and led her out of her prison and out through the open doors of Nurgle's mansion. "Leman! Let's go!" He cried as he and the goddess fled on foot to the safety of the encamped gun batteries.

Leman Russ left the Dark God to wrestle with the spirits of the Emperor, content that his quest was done, and raced after his brother.

They will have their chance to destroy the Dark God, today was only a delaying of the inevitable.

"GO! GO! GO!" Horus commanded what was left of his legion to fall back into their transporters, looking back as the mournful cry of the aggrieved Dark God echoed across the blighted forests.

"ISHA! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?!"

The very ground stirred once more, for the Dark God's anger was so great that his psychic influence upon his realm shook the very foundations free- if there was ever such a thing in that hellish place. The Lupercalian Crusade withdrew from the Warp as quickly as it could, all eager to leave the filthy, plague-ridden realm of the Fly Lord as soon as possible.

Left alone, with all he had worked for in ruins, the injured and humiliated Dark God Nurgle lifted his tear-stained eyes to the warp tears as the fleet returned to realspace. Seized by a violent anger, Nurgle tossed aside his boiling cauldron and spilled the contents within, promising an eternity of suffering and plague upon mankind. He would visit every affliction imaginable upon the Imperium, unleash every champion and legion at his command to sow ruin and terror upon them.

He would have his beloved Isha back in her cage, one way or another.

"Mortarion..." The Dark God whispered, "Your god calls for you..."

The Lupercalian Crusade stumbled back into Imperial space, their numbers halved after such a punishing ordeal. Many should've taken heart that it was a narrow victory, costly, but a victory nonetheless that they had faced a Dark God of Chaos on his own turf and lived to tell the tale. Alas, the faint pangs of despair were apparent among many minds. That was one of the effects of the Warp, leaving its distant aftertaste upon entering realspace.

Horus, on the other hand, was just grateful that his father was able to intervene in time again for his task to be completed.

He encouraged his crestfallen brethren, especially the Luna Wolves who have lost more than the other chapters combined, by reminding them of their purpose and that those deaths were never in vain.

They had the goddess among them now. And to top it all off, she was not the kind to sit still as a passenger. Instead, Isha roamed from ship to ship, bestowing her healing touch to those in need. After that ordeal with the Plague God, many ships were put on quarantine as a myriad of epidemics suddenly flared among the vessels at Horus' command. One most notable act of kindness she had done in her time as a free goddess was what she did for Bjorn the Fellhanded.

The Space Wolves never fully embraced the task set before them upon hearing the revelation of its true nature, and they at first hated sacrificing needless lives for a xeno goddess. But right until they saw her, meek and innocent like a child, even the hearts of stone cracked and those of ice melted. She laid her hands upon the dreadnought, heavily damaged from all the fighting it saw through the Siege of the Plaguelands, and restored vitality to the paralyzed form resting within the machine's shell.

Many heroes were lost, some of them unknown and unnamed. But while she could help it, Isha could bring back many to serve once more.

"Could you restore one from the dead?" Horus asked her on the day they reached Holy Terra. Many solar days were spent on grieving and seeing to the funeral rites of the fallen, many more for healing and restoration, the final days spent on traveling through the safest and most secure routes back to the Capital. The Emperor's beacon was dimming in the horizon, and this only spurred the Crusade forward even harder, for they knew what was at stake. "Could you bring back my father?"

Isha looked upon her savior, of whose hand was guided by the one who gave her hope. By her hand she had healed him from his own afflictions sustained from his battle with the Plague God, and he looked as radiant as any youthful man. "I can try. It is the least I can do after all you have done for me."

"You'd better." Leman Russ snorted as he walked past the two on his way up to the bridge, "I wasted ten thousand years looking for a way to right my brother's wrongs, make it worth that time."

"Forgive him." Horus baded the goddess, "He is a Fenrisian to the bone, he will never fully agree with anyone's plan save for his own."

Isha gazed down at the planet below the Divine Fury, watching the lights dance upon its cities where the peoples of the earth roamed to and fro, feeling the life emanating from within. But there was one life down there she felt so keenly, and so wished to save. "Take me to him, that I may rest all your doubts of me."

Horus nodded, summoning his men to escort the goddess down to Holy Terra.

As the Thunderhawk broke through the gray skies, the very presence of the Goddess of Life and Fertility restored the broken atmosphere to the days of its infancy. The changes in the world of man were noticeable, even more so when the transporter touched down and Isha set foot upon the grounds of the Imperial Palace. Where once stood artificial plants or towering statues of bronze and gold, vibrant plants and beautiful flora sprouted out of the once-dead ground to wrap their embrace wherever the goddess went.

The people, so absorbed in their daily lives, took pause to admire and gaze in awe at the spectacle.

Horus Lupercal, and his awesome Luna Wolves bodyguards, brought with them a towering woman of unparalleled beauty. She stood at an impossible height of ten feet, on par with the Primarch himself. Her skin was glossy like polished bronze, and pink with the same vibrancy that sprouted flowers wherever her feet touched the ground. She was dressed in transparent silks that accentuated her form, though not at all leaving little to the imagination. And her hair, so inhumanly golden like a field of ripened grain.

Mortal minds could think alike. They knew she was a goddess.

Isha looked at the gathering crowds and smiled sweetly at all who gazed upon her. Those that cast their eyes on her were immediately blessed with vitality. Old men who once bent on their walking canes, stood tall like men in their prime. Gnarled veterans, whose life had left them when the wars chipped away at their humanity, saw again what they had long missed.

Hope. Long overdue, and it was here!

The crowd cheered, a noisy and wordless cheer. For they knew not what to call the goddess that walked their streets.

Horus hurried them along, for he was not here to parade her around the Imperial city, not yet at least. "Come, let us finish this task first." Isha meekly agreed and allowed herself to be swept up to the gates of the Imperial Palace. There, the acolytes and servitors pushed open the many doors leading into the Throne Room, where the Emperor sat interred for the last ten thousand years. Noticeably, the walls and floors were restored after the defense of the city against the daemonic incursions, and the gilded skeleton that sat immobile stayed the same.

Isha looked at Horus, then at the glorified corpse. Her expression was one of sadness and tender compassion, "Is that him?"

"Yes." Horus said.

A moment of silence reigned, then Isha boldly strode forward. Her footsteps were faint, like the droplets of rain on a gentle shower in the summer afternoon. Horus watched as she gained the height of the stairs leading to the Throne, and he held his breath as Isha stood so close to the corpse therein.

Slowly but surely, she took hold of the skull and bent down to kiss the hallowed bones.

Horus waited with baited breath, watched with eager anticipation of the culmination of his efforts. The Adeptus Custodes who had led them in whispered amongst themselves, wondering at what was to come.

To mortal eyes, they would never have noticed it first, but Horus saw it. The flesh crept up across the ancient bones, sinews and musculature formed over sutures and foramens sported nerves and blood vessels! Then, as the precursor of a human face formed, the skin stretched out from thin air and spread out evenly across the head and all over the body therein. Horus gaped, amazed at the power of life making itself manifest before him!

Hair sprouted from roots and flowed over the scalp, eyelids stretched over open sockets, only to lift to reveal the kindest eyes of puppy brown.

He knew those eyes!

"Father!" Horus cried.

"Emperor!" The Adeptus Custodes joined in.

The Emperor wasn't listening, for in that moment of resurrection he only cared of one thing- the beautiful face that stared down at him with love. His hands, held in place by wires plugged into the Throne, made a lot of noise as they moved up to caress the goddess' smooth cheek. He pulled her down again to steal another kiss.

The remembrancer, seizing this opportunity, raced forward and scribbled on a parchment of paper the scene before him.

Satisfied, the Master of Mankind rose up from his Throne and cast a bright glow over the ancient machine. He would have it wait for its use, having been restored the full power of his psychic might from his resurrection, for now he had a whole empire to address. He held the goddess' hand gently in his own and led her back down the stairs to speak to his son.

"Well done, my boy." He said, putting a hand upon Horus' shoulder. "I am so proud of you."

Horus beamed, at a loss for words.

"Come, let us give them the good news." The Emperor beckoned, and the Gods of the Imperium walked up to the balcony tot he jubilant adoration of the crowds below.

The Emperor had returned.

}!{

Can't make it any better than that. This shall be the end for now.

Thank you so much for helping me get this far, dearest readers. Don't worry, after the break I will carry on where we left off. Horus' journey for redemption is over, but the Emperor's job has just begun.

Till then.