Her hands clawed the ground, scratching her nails bloody as though she were desperately writing something in the dust. Kallista sobbed uncontrollably, shaking as though in the midst of a seizure. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he wiped his face with his sleeve. He could not take his eyes from the inchoate being below, his previously overwhelmed senses now firmly rooted in the mundane reality of the world. The moment passed and Lemuel’s vomit was just vomit, his breath invisible and without form. The air seethed with ambition, as though a power that not even the deadstones could contain flexed its muscles. His heaving breath flowed like milky smoke from his mouth, and he stared in amazement at his stomach’s contents, the spattered mass glittering as though the potential of what it had once been longed to reconstitute itself. Lemuel dropped to his knees and vomited, the contents of his stomach spilling down the rockface. Kallista screamed, and the spell was broken. Lemuel wanted to touch it, though he knew he would be burned to ashes were he to get too close. He couldn’t look away, knowing on some primal level that the fire that burned in this being’s heart was dangerous, perhaps the most dangerous thing in the world. ‘What is it?’ asked Lemuel, the words little more than a whisper. Without seeming to vary from one second to the next, the being was alternately a giant, a man, a god, or a being of radiant light and a million eyes. With each second, it seemed as though the apparition’s shape changed without him even being aware of it. Lemuel felt sick to his stomach at the sight, yet was unable to tear his gaze from this towering being. A mane of copper hair, ash-stained and wild, billowed around the being’s head, its face appearing as an inconstant swirl of liquid light and flesh, as though no bone formed the basis for its foundations, but something altogether more dynamic and vital. Impressions were all Lemuel could make out: skin that shone as though fire flowed in its veins, mighty wings of feathers and golden plates. But Magnus has seen more than the betrayal of Horus and the witnessed revelations will change the fate of his fallen Legion, and its primarch, forever. But when the ill-fated primarch forsees the treachery of Warmaster Horus and warns the Emperor with the very powers he was forbidden to use, the Master of Mankind dispatches fellow primarch Leman Russ to attack Prospero itself. For more info about this title: Canada, USA, Europe.Ĭensured at the Council of Nikea for his flagrant use of sorcery, Magnus the Red and his Thousand Sons Legion retreat to their homeworld of Prospero to continue their use of the arcane arts in secret. Here's an extract from Graham McNeill's A Thousand Sons, latest addition in The Horus Heresy sequence, courtesy of the folks at Black Library.
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