"‘Release the star’s energy!’ Qvo commanded.
A tech-priest threw an enormous switch. It gave out a shower of sparks. Loops of charged gas writhed around it. The runs of light pouring down the walls flickered and dimmed. The machines shrieked. Several of them exploded. The hall of the Chemic Spheres was plunged into a ruddy gloom.
‘I cannot hear him, I cannot see him,’ Rhacelus said. ‘His soul is too deep into the warp.’
‘Now,’ said Qvo.
Albinus depressed the shock buttons.
A roaring flood of energy poured into the Lord of Death. His body danced on the table, ripping open his sutures. Yellow sparks rushed all over Albinus, who stood as long as he was able, his jaw locked, until with a cry he was thrown backwards, crashing into one of his human orderlies. The man fell down, his bones shattered, crushed by the Priest. The last of the machines blew out, spraying glass and plastek all over the floor. Fire sprang up on the cables siphoning power from the star.
The light dimmed further. Mephiston’s open chest steamed.
Corbulo went to the smoking corpse and pressed his gloved fingers against Mephiston’s neck. ‘His hearts are still not beating.’
‘The connections to the star are burned out. Our machines are destroyed,’ reported one of Qvo’s lesser priests.
‘That was our last chance to save him,’ said Albinus. He picked himself up from the dead man’s corpse. ‘You killed him.’
‘Magos?’ said Dante.
‘It should have worked,’ said Qvo. ‘It should have–’
A cry went up from one of the Librarians. A glow kindled in his open mouth and his eyes, then burst out in hot daggers of light. He fell dead. The chanting faltered. Another Librarian fell to his knees, clutching his head. The others continued to chant, but they were faltering.
‘By the Great Angel,’ said Rhacelus. ‘I feel him, he is coming back!’ But his face changed from joy to horror. ‘He is changed! By the Angel, what have we done?’ He looked at Dante. ‘We have failed in every way.’
The sound of immense wings beating filled the chamber. Once, twice, thrice.
Silence.
With a great bang, the conduits on the walls of the spheres burst. Fat trails of energy poured into the Chief Librarian. The Space Marines threw up their hands to their eyes as a ball of light as bright as the sun encased the body of Mephiston.
The orb lifted. Mephiston was a shadow in the fire.
The orb exploded.
A burst of energy washed over the room, knocking all present off their feet and sending the remains of the machinery slamming into the walls. The unmodified humans among them were lofted high into the air. Space Marines crashed into the walls. More of the Librarians fell, some unconscious, others dead.
The Sanguinary Guard struggled to keep themselves upright. They levelled their weapons at the entity before them, but few could shoot. A howling storm of witchfire raced around the chamber, ripping up everything and sending it whirling into the air. The conduits leading down from Idalia pulsed and flared.
Rhacelus leaned into the storm, keeping himself upright only by dint of his own formidable psychic talents. Others were not so fortunate. He felt the stirrings of the Black Rage in all of them, even in Dante, as the thing that had been Mephiston hovered over them.
At the eye of the storm he created, Mephiston flew, an angel of destruction. Through the searing light, Rhacelus saw his ribcage snap shut, and skin flow back over the parts of him not yet recovered. His hair grew out from his scalp even as it crawled back over his exposed skull. The black fires ignited and rushed upwards from his skin, filling the chamber and beating back the light of Idalia. Black lightning arced down from his hands, earthing itself in the ground.
Rhacelus had rarely felt such power. Mephiston’s being was a furnace of psychic and material energies mixed. As he watched, Mephiston’s silhouette darkened, and black wings opened behind him. Rhacelus had to kill Mephiston, but it was too late.
For a moment, Rhacelus saw the dreadful black angel manifest before him, and felt the screaming insanity of the warp wax strong in all the Blood Angels in the room. He heard the clatter of guns in ancient wars. He felt the wounds of fraternal hatred. He saw the leering face of a treacherous brother.
Then it stopped. The energies of the room expanded, then rushed in towards Mephiston in a screaming implosion. The crash it gave was a physical blow that crackled the walls of the hall of the Chemic Spheres, and knocked the Space Marines back again.
The angel of shadows was gone. The black fire went out. Mephiston floated down to the floor, naked and pristine, all his wounds from the procedure gone. Ever since Calistarius had died and Mephiston had taken his place, Rhacelus had found his friend sinister, with a harsh physical perfection that could never be called beauty, but this Mephiston was beautiful. Light shone from his alabaster skin. For a moment he looked like the images of Sanguinius found all over the fortress-monastery, only purer, more vital, than any statue could be.
Mephiston’s feet touched the floor. He stood amid the ruin, staring down at his hands. He was taller, stronger, perfect in form.
‘He lives. He is Primaris,’ whispered Albinus.
Quiet of a more natural sort fell. The moans of the injured and dying filled the space. The smell of blood tormented Rhacelus. He felt his fangs slide out of his gums. The images of the past danced at the edge of his vision. He wasn’t the only one. They all struggled.
Mephiston knelt and closed his eyes. As if he had shut off a valve, the visions ceased. The beginnings of the Rage vanished as quickly as they had come.
The people in the room recovered. Those medicae personnel still capable of movement went to the sides of their fallen comrades. Corbulo was hauled to his feet by Albinus. Qvo-87 limped forward, nursing broken mechanical arms against his chest.
‘We did it! Another marvellous success!’
He was shoved out of the way by Dante’s Sanguinary Guard, who formed around the Lord of Death, their Angelus boltguns aimed at his head, their swords presented to strike. The snap of activating power fields ran around their circle. Storms in miniature raged over the metal of their blades.
‘We should kill him,’ said Astorath, clambering to his feet. ‘We should be done with all this. He has always been a danger. Look at this!’
‘Wait,’ said Dante.
Mephiston knelt with his head bowed. The light of his rebirth had faded, but he still glowed a pure white in the red light of the hall. He was the image of a fallen angel.
Dante approached. His guard moved aside.
‘Mephiston,’ Dante said.
The Lord of Death did not respond.
‘Calistarius,’ Dante tried.
Mephiston looked up. ‘Not Calistarius. Not Mephiston. I am something else.’
‘You recognise me?’ said Dante.
‘I do. You are my lord and my brother. You are Dante.’
‘Whom do you serve?’ said Dante.
‘I serve the Librarius. I serve the Chapter. I serve the Emperor.’ He got to his feet. ‘I serve mankind.’
‘Rhacelus?’ Dante asked.
Rhacelus tentatively reached out with his mind. Mephiston’s psychic might was greater than ever, but something in his new body held it in check.
‘It is him, but is also not him,’ said Rhacelus.
‘Kill him,’ said Astorath. ‘Kill him while he is weak.’
‘Is he in control of his abilities?’ asked Dante.
‘At the moment, yes,’ said Rhacelus. He relaxed a little. ‘Welcome back, brother.’
‘I serve you, my lord,’ said Mephiston. ‘If you decree that I must die, then so be it.’
‘A remarkable success,’ said Qvo, coming to the fore. ‘Remarkable.’ He laughed uneasily. ‘The process works on your gene-line after all, Lord Dante.’
‘Look at the cost of your success, tech-priest,’ said Astorath, waving his hand around at the corpses lying in the wreckage of the room. ‘What is your command, lord?’ The High Chaplain hefted his axe.
Dante’s true expression was hidden behind Sanguinius’ howling visage. ‘Fetch Lord Mephiston his robes. Clear this space. Tend to the wounded. Rhacelus, reinstate the containment dome.’
Dante looked at Astorath.
‘Mephiston lives, for now.’"