that the end was inevitable。
Leonid rounded a corner of dripping capsules and recoiled at the sight before him。
THE WARSMITH CAST his arms to the cavern roof as he felt the power of the gene…seed coursing through him； though he realised
that its power was largely symbolic。 He had succeeded and the power of the dark gods poured into their chosen vessel； ripping
him from his mortal flesh and gifting him with the boon of immortality。
His armour sloughed from his body； its material form no longer appropriate for such a magnificent creature of Chaos。 A spiralling
vortex of dark energy surrounded him； cracks exploding in the rockcrete floor as power flared from his limbs。
As the psychic energy built up； the Warsmith swelled； roaring as he felt his power magnifying。
His chest hiked convulsively as the might of Chaos poured through him。 He was aware of his warriors and the Imperial soldiers；
but he needed all his concentration to direct the incomprehensible energies that remoulded his new daemonic flesh。
The Warsmith roared in ecstasy and agony as unprecedented power engulfed him。 His body swelled hugely； bloated by the
maelstrom of energy that cycloned within。
A ridged horn burst from his forehead in a welter of blood and tissue。 The mottled spike writhed like a living thing； swelling and
wrapping itself around his head。 His skin darkened； taking on a loathsome scaled texture。 His spine cracked and he screamed as it
elongated and thickened； roaring as the shadows at his back solidified and the dark wings spread wide and flapped powerfully。
The newly elevated Daemon Prince was lifted from the ground； hanging suspended before the horrified witnesses to its birth as
the last of the psychic energy drained from its body in an explosive wash of power。
THOUGH HE KNEW it meant death； Leonid raced towards the floating daemon； his sword raised to strike it down。
The winged daemon turned its gaze upon him and he dropped to his knees as the sickening aura of the creature overcame him。 Its
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
monstrous form was utterly black； the nightmare depths of its form glittering with far…off galaxies and stars。 He felt revolted just
looking at the beast and rolled onto his side as debilitating cramps seized him。
He vomited； feeling his guts contract again and dry…heaved； having nothing more to expel。 He vainly tried to push himself to his
feet； but the pain was too great； like a red…hot knife twisting in his belly。 His men were also on the floor； their bodily functions
rebelling in the presence of such horrific power。
Leonid wept in pain； hearing the terrible； booming laughter of the daemon prince above him； the discordant noise sending jagged
bolts of pain down his spine。
He felt unconsciousness rising to claim him and tried to fight it。
But he could not resist its balm and slipped into darkness。
THE FIRES STILL burned throughout the citadel as the first rays of morning crested the mountains and columns of tracked tankers
rumbled through the molten remains of the Destiny Gate。 Each tanker had been specially built for this moment； insulated and
rigged with blast freezing mechanisms to preserve the precious gene…seed on its journey through the immaterium towards the Eye
of Terror and Abaddon the Despoiler。
The fallen Iron Warriors were already aboard the ships in orbit； the Chirumeks dissecting them even now to harvest their organs
for implantation into the next generation of Iron Warriors。
There had not been enough of Forrix to bring back and while stripping down the siege works； a party of slaves had found a rotting
corpse in Kroeger's dugout。 It was clearly that of an Iron Warrior； but if the body was Kroeger's； who had led the assault on the
eastern bastion？
It was a mystery that Honsou guessed he would never know the answer to； though in that； he was very wrong。
Honsou watched the tankers as they made the slow journey through the blasted landscape of the plain before the citadel。 The
satisfaction of victory was tempered with a hollow emptiness from knowing that the foe was defeated and there were no more
battles to be fought here。
When the Warsmith had ascended to daemonhood； Honsou had prostrated himself before the daemon prince； prayers of devotion
spilling from his lips。
'Stand； Honsou；' commanded the daemon。
Hurriedly Honsou obeyed as the daemon continued； 'You have pleased me mightily these last centuries； my son。 I have groomed
your hatred well and you have the seed of greatness within you。'
'I live only to serve； my master；' stammered Honsou。
'I know you do。 But I know of your hunger to lead； to tread the path I have taken。 It is clear to me now the course the future must
take。'
The daemon Warsmith drifted towards Honsou； its massive form towering above the Iron Warrior。
'You shall be my successor； Honsou。 Only you hold true to the vision of Chaos； of the final destruction of the false Imperium。
Forrix had lost that vision of our ultimate destiny and Kroeger； well； he cast it aside long ago。 I shall not name you captain； I shall
name you Warsmith。'
Before Honsou could answer； the Warsmith folded his midnight wings around his body； his form a sliver of impenetrable
darkness。
'The power of the warp calls me； Honsou； and it is a call I cannot refuse。 Where I go； you cannot follow… yet。'
The Warsmith's outline shimmered as he faded from the material realm into places beyond Honsou's understanding。
He still couldn't believe it。 Honsou the half…breed。 Now Honsou the Warsmith。
He turned from the wreckage of the citadel and made his way back towards the ridge that led down to the spaceport； passing a
wretched column of blue…coated prisoners marching towards the prison hulks and a life of slavery。 Honsou caught sight of a
prisoner in a bronze breastplate with the shoulder boards of a lieutenant colonel； his battered features cast down in crushed
resignation； and laughed。
He quickly outpaced the prisoners； marching through the masterful contravallations Forrix had constructed around the spaceport；
past the heavy； transport shuttles that were returning the surviving tanks and artillery pieces to the cargo hulks。
The landing platforms were awash with men and machines preparing to depart Hydra Cordatus。
He crossed the runways towards a shuttle idling on a far landing platform。
An honour guard of Iron Warriors stood before the cavernous entrance to the vessel。
'Your shuttle is ready； Warsmith；' said a bowing Iron Warrior。
Honsou smiled and stepped aboard the shuttle without a backward glance。
EPILOGUE
THE ADEPTUS MECHANICUS vessel Mordekai's Light drifted in geo…stationary orbit above Hydra Cordatus； its smooth black
surfaces dull and non…reflective。 Its kilometre…long hull was sleek and quite unlike the ungainly vessels of the Imperial Navy。
This vessel was designed for speed and stealth。
Dark robed adepts of the Machine God ghosted through the incense…scented air of the command bridge； reverently tending to the
arcane technologies of the massive starship。
Standing behind the command altar at the end of a wide； veneered nave； High Magos Kuzela Matrada stared at the smouldering
ruin of the citadel projected on the forward viewing bay。 The great fortress was no more； its mighty bastions cast down； its walls
reduced to rubble and； more importantly； its precious gene…seed stolen。
The scale of this disaster did not bear thinking about and the repercussions would reach to the very highest and mightiest on Mars
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
and Terra。
A light flashed on the pict…tablet before him and he swept his bronze hand across the runes beside it。 An interference filled image
swam into focus on the tablet； the hooded face of Magos Sarfian； staring up at him from the surface of the planet below。
'Well？' demanded Matrada。
'You were correct； high magos。 The laboratorium is empty and the gene…seed gone。'
'All of it？'
'All of it；' confirmed Sarfian。
'Have you found any survivors？'
'No； my lord； only corpses。 From the wreckage and sheer level of destruction we have discovered； it is evident that the battle was
fierce indeed。'
'Have you removed all evidence of our blessed order？'
Sarfian nodded。 'The cavern has been purified with fire and melta charges set。'
'Very well； return to the ship and we will cleanse the entire site from orbit。'
'Yes； my lord；' said Sarfian。
Matrada shut off the link and opened a channel to his ordnance officer。 Yes； this was a disaster； but he would ensure that no one
would ever find out about it。
'Lock in co…ordinates and prepare to fire on my order。'
GUARDSMAN HAWKE STUMBLED down the rocky slopes of the mountains； dehydrated； malnourished and suffering from seconddegree
burns。 He'd watched as the enemy had seized the citadel； butchering the last remnants of his regiment； helpless as the battle
raged in the darkness。 With the citadel's fall； the enemy had pulled back from the valley and left Hydra Cordatus with the same
speed and efficiency with which they had arrived。
Never in his whole life had Hawke felt quite so alone。 With the departure of the enemy forces； the silence was unnerving。 The
constant rumble of artillery and explosions was gone； as was the distant screaming of men in battle。 Only now； with it absent did
Hawke realise how omnipresent it had been。
Not a soul moved on the plain below and he decided that enough was enough。 He scavenged a few unspoiled ration packs from
the torpedo facility's crew quarters as well as some hydration tablets and； thankfully； some detox pills。
With the battle over； he began the long trek to the valley floor； a skinny shambling wreck； covered in dust and blood。 Quite what
he intended to do when he got there； he didn't know； but knew that it sure beat staying in the mountains。
It was on his third day's travel； as he rested in the shadow of a tall boulder； that he saw the ship。 It roared low along the valley
before vanishing to land beyond the smashed walls of the citadel。
Though he knew he was too far away to be heard； he shouted himself hoarse； scrambling downhill at a furious rate。 The fact that
he was almost a day's journey from the citadel didn't occur to him； and soon he was breathless and exhausted； his head pounding
in pain。
When he recovered； he set off once more； fi