Chapter 124 - Gathering of the Fallen
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I am his messenger. I am his son. I come bearing his command to find my brothers.
Zabriel kept telling himself that.
By order of Lion El'Jonson, master of the First Legion, he rode the Cobra-class destroyer Steadfast Accord to every planet where a Fallen brother might have left a trace.
Four hundred years of hiding and running. Ended.
Now he walked openly, without caution, in plain sight of the world.
It still felt unreal. A persistent, low-grade vertigo he couldn't shake.
The humiliating years of flight were over.
All of it a gift from the Lion.
Zabriel's feelings toward his Gene-Sire were complicated beyond easy measure. By any honest reckoning, the years he had fought at the Lion's side were far shorter than the years he had spent resenting him in exile.
He resented the Lion.
He also supported the Lion.
The Great Rift had torn the Imperium in two. The Dark Imperium, cut off from the Astronomican's light, had become a hunting ground for warlords and the forces of Chaos. If not the former master of the Legion, a son of the Emperor of Mankind himself, then who could possibly shoulder the burden of saving its people?
Zabriel believed, without reservation, that only the Lion could do it.
Their time together these past months had only sharpened that conviction. His Gene-Sire was still the sharpest blade the human Imperium had ever forged. But he was no longer so rigid, no longer so closed. He had become honest.
"Father," Zabriel murmured to himself, "if you had been even half this honest back then, could we have avoided that tragedy?"
Hurried footsteps echoed from the passageway behind him.
The captain of the Steadfast Accord came to him at a brisk walk.
"Lord Zabriel. We have reached low orbit over Gamma-2 in the Trevenum System."
The captain paused, his gaze briefly touching the winged-sword emblem on Zabriel's power armor.
"According to local intelligence, Space Marines visited here recently. They took over the planetary defense, repelled the attackers, and protected the civilian population. We cannot confirm they are Dark Angels, but the characteristics match your description."
Zabriel didn't hesitate.
"Prepare a shuttle, captain. I'll go see for myself."
"Yes, my lord. At once."
Twenty minutes later, his boots touched the surface of Gamma-2.
In the ruined plaza of the governor's palace, he found the two unidentified Space Marines.
By the Emperor of Mankind.
On the left stood an Inner Circle brother in Cataphractii Pattern Terminator Armour. Galad.
On the right, Knight-Sergeant Launciel.
Both loyal Fallen. Neither touched by Chaos.
Zabriel stepped forward, kept the pleasantries brief, and stated his purpose. He activated the micro-servo on his wrist and played the Lion's recording.
In the holographic image, an aged but imposing primarch spoke in measured, sincere tones. A request. No coercion in it whatsoever.
Galad and Launciel watched the projection without blinking, exchanged a single glance, and agreed without hesitation.
Launciel went further. He offered a piece of intelligence Zabriel hadn't expected.
Deep in the Umbulan Mountains of this system, a Fallen brother named Bevedan lived in seclusion.
A Librarian.
Zabriel's pulse jumped. If the Lion was going to rebuild his core structure, Inner Circle cadres with specialized abilities were exactly what he needed most.
He took his leave immediately, boarded an aircraft alone, and flew straight for the Umbulan Mountains.
The shuttle set down on a rugged mountain platform.
Zabriel stepped off the ramp and knew at once something was off.
He wasn't the only one who had come here.
Two figures already stood on the open ground outside the hermitage.
The hermit Bevedan had seen the new aircraft land and stepped forward to greet him.
Zabriel's eyes didn't go to Bevedan. They locked onto the two black-armored Fallen standing behind him.
One of them was too large.
Far beyond the average frame of a First Legion veteran.
The massive Fallen wore a helmet of unusual design. Zabriel ran through every equipment file he had ever memorized. The Dark Angels Legion had never issued armor of that pattern.
For a moment he wondered if the man had received the blessings of the Ruinous Powers, some mutation warping his frame from within.
But there wasn't a trace of Chaos corruption anywhere on that heavy battle-plate.
Zabriel recognized the other one.
No helmet.
Bela.
Bela saw him coming and stiffened, then held his ground in silence.
They had crossed paths during the Great Crusade, shared a few campaigns. They knew each other well enough.
The abnormally large Fallen studied Zabriel for a few seconds, then stepped forward.
"Zabriel?"
A gravelly voice, filtered through the helmet's vox-grille.
Zabriel stopped mid-step. His mind raced, running the voice against every brother he had ever known.
Before he could land on an answer, the towering Fallen raised both hands and broke the helmet seals.
Air hissed out. The helmet came free.
A face.
Zabriel went rigid.
His mouth opened.
"Cullen?!"
He crossed the distance in three strides, looking the giant up and down.
"How are you this big? And your face — why haven't you aged a single day?"
He knew this man. Cullen. First Legion. Founding member of the Dreadwing. Knight of the Third Company, Thirteenth Chapter.
They weren't just battle-brothers. They were from the same hive city on Holy Terra. Old friends, in the way that only ten thousand years of shared history could make two men old friends.
"Minor medical procedure." Cullen pulled one corner of his mouth into a familiar grin. "You, on the other hand, Zabriel. I didn't expect you to age into quite such a sorry state. Look at all those wrinkles."
"Go screw yourself."
Zabriel laughed and cursed in the same breath. He couldn't help it.
The words of reunion were already pressing at his teeth. He swallowed them back down.
Duty first. He hadn't forgotten why he was here.
Three Fallen brothers, gathered in one place by chance.
Zabriel stated his purpose, raised his wrist, and activated the servo again. The Lion's recruitment hologram bloomed in the mountain air.
The Lion's voice rolled through the valley.
Bevedan's face changed the moment he saw the image. His jaw muscles twitched. Something raw and barely contained moved behind his eyes.
Zabriel turned to read the other two.
Cullen's face was still. He watched the projection quietly, without expression.
Bela was equally blank. He didn't even blink.
Zabriel saw the difference immediately.
Cullen's stillness had weight to it. A deliberate calm, the kind that comes from already knowing everything and choosing to hold it in.
Bela's stillness was something else entirely. Pure detachment. As if he had cut the First Legion out of himself long ago and felt nothing looking at what remained.
Zabriel's temper spiked.
Any normal First Legion veteran, hearing that his Gene-Sire had returned from ten thousand years of slumber — who wouldn't be shaken? Who wouldn't feel something?
Bela was acting more bored and wooden than Rogal Dorn himself.
Something was wrong.
Zabriel's right hand drifted toward the bolt pistol at his hip.
"This is the third invitation I've received, Zabriel."
Bevedan's voice cut through the silence.
The Librarian's eyes were fixed on the new messenger.
"Are you certain this isn't a lure? Could the Lion be using this as a pretext to gather us in one place and wipe us out?"
"If he wanted a reckoning, Sevatar would already be dead." Zabriel's voice was flat and certain. "I give you my word, brother. The Lion has changed. He speaks of cooperation and requests. Not coercion."
At that name, something flickered across both Bevedan's and Bela's faces at the same moment.
The Prince of Crows. After ten thousand years.
"Who did you say?" Bevedan pressed. "The First Captain of the Eighth Legion?"
"Yes." Zabriel nodded. "The Lion captured him. He travels with the retinue."
Bevedan went quiet.
He didn't process the news about Sevatar. He turned his head sharply and stared at Bela.
"You should have told me the truth when you were recruiting me, Bela."
The Librarian's voice had gone very dark.
"You should have told me your objective is to kill the Lion."
The blood drained from Zabriel's face.
Every alarm in his mind screamed at once. He drew his bolt pistol and leveled it at Bela.
"Bela. Who are you working for?"
Bela didn't reach for his weapon.
He looked at Zabriel's fury, then glanced at Cullen beside him, that absurdly massive frame, one hand already resting on his sword hilt. Bela had no doubt what would happen in the next second if he moved wrong.
He spoke plainly.
"I follow Knight-Commander Seraphax."
Zabriel's pupils shrank.
"You're with the Thousand Eyes warband?!"
➤ Next: Actually, I've Been a Pardoned Angel for a While Now
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