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The Omnissiah appeared at the side of his Father, the Emperor of Mankind. He sat upon his Golden Throne like an immortal God-King wearing armor of what fools would call pure gold. He showed to his people the elegance of might and what they all aspired to be at this darkest hour. In both a figurative sense and a literal one, it was he who was leading both the survivors and the siege breaking fleets to victory.
He was silent. His words were not nearly worth speaking when his mind was doing so much more.
“Brother!?” There was a sudden explanation of fear from Lion El’ Johnson. It tinged with surprise most of all, but there was also the sound of fear.
The Omnissiah looked at his other brothers present. Rogal Dorn was present and so was Sanguinius. Rogal was weathered beyond what could be comprehended from the numerous months of defending the siege with little sign of buckling. While a great many gates were taken, their stronghold at the Saturnine Gate remained true.
As for who kept the Saturnine Gate open, Sanguinius proved himself to be heavily injured in all manners of the word. It was he who defended against Angron and it was he who slaughtered multiple Greater Daemons of Chaos. It was upon his wings that the Siege was successful, little question of that.
For his troubles, he has been grievously wounded. A Primarch would not die from these wounds but the Omnissiah wondered if that would be the case.
Rounding back the Omnissiah looked upon The Lion his injuries were great, but not nearly as horredious as his brother’s. Infections flowed through his blood that were quickly being purged by the presence of the Emperor, signs that he had been in a bloody conflict with Mortarion. When both were mortal, Lion El’ Johnson would have defeated his brother, and it was assured once again when one of them ascended.
The only two remaining were Malcador the Sigillite and Constantin Valdor. To say that Valdor looked upon the Omnissiah with suspicion was an understatement. Malcador however simply looked happy for another to have survived these dark days.
“Johnson,” Malcador spoke with immense authority as he slammed his staff upon the tilled floor, “There will be no time to explain. The Emperor rises.”
Upon his words everyone fell silent. The giant of a man, the one TalOS called a god, opened his eyes. And with immense effort the Emperor rose from the Golden Throne.
