The Emperor Born Again

The Emperor Born Again
by ~Spineyguy
Silence... The sound filled the cavernous interior of the Chapel of The Emperor ascendent, a horrible, heart wrenching noise that no man should ever know the true meaning of. But here it was, today as real as it ever was and had any lesser men been here, they surely would have crumpled into foetal balls, weeping at the deafening quiet of the moment. But these were not 'lesser men', these were not mortals, these were Astartes. Gods among men they had been called, Chosen of the Emperor beloved by all and today it was believeable. Here they stood, resplendent in ancient power armour of pure gold, looking down into the room, a giant room, it's walls and ceiling lined with gold over which was cast a spectral light the colour of a star being born. For all intents and purposes that's what it was a star, a solid ball of pure emotion, conjured from the warp it's self, the manifestation of humanity's love for it's master, upon a million, nay a BILLION worlds of the Imperium of man, one thought echoed in the minds of every single human 'Emperor, Emeperor, EMPEROR'. Deep in the discord of the imaterium the four False Gods of Chaos writhed and pulled at the edges of their confines desperate but oh so helpless in what was happening, they knew it, their death would come soon and they could do nothing to stop it. Back in the Chapel, the ball of light grew and stretched and took form, the gathered Astartes closed their eyes to shield themselves from the blinding light and still the though came 'Emperor, Emperor, EMPEROR'. within the light, a face of the most etherial beauty, skin the hue of most perfect white, eyes that could pierce the soul and consume any doubt of the existence of God. Across the Imperium, heretics, mutants and worshippers of Chaos took their own lives. Fulgrim of the Emperor's Children, his flesh pale and cracked, drove his deamon sword through his own heart. Mortarion of the Death Guard, shocked by the abomination he had become, keeled over and died one last time. Angron of the World Eaters, filled with the reality that there would be no victory for him, exploded in a torrent of blood. Magnus of the Thousand Sons, his single eye blinded and useless, crumbled into dust. One by one, the sensei in the Chapel began to fall, the life sucked out of them by their own father, no matter, they would be born again. And still the chior of the Astronomican sang, but now it was not the usual chorus of wails and screams, but an enchanting melody, heavenly in its music. Elsewhere on Terra, the block of solid amber preserving the Primarch Rogal Dorn began to melt, it's very structure breaking down with the Birth of the Father of he who lay inside. Instruments and machines monitering the stasis field containing Roboute Guilliman showed increased activity before they were shattered into a thousand peices. Deep within the ruin of Caliban, the Watchers in the dark began to chant the name of Lion El'Johnson frantically. On the craftworld Ulthwe, Farseer Ulthran smiled for the first time in many millenia as he felt the channels of the webway clear and become once again passable. Across the Galaxy, Orks stopped their eternal warfare and looked to the skies with amazement. The Etherials of the Tau in their wisdom sensed a new age about to dawn. The Hive fleets of the Tyranid race halted in their merciless advance. Long dormant Necrons clattered to the floors of their tomb worlds.
The men of the Imperial Guard cheered and punched the air. The sisters of the Adepta Sororitas wept with joy. The Space Marines of the Adeptus Astartes held one-another in a brotherly embrace. And in the minds of every living human, the thought turned into a prayer "Oh, Emperor, in wrath rejiocing at bloody wars; fierce and untamed. Whose mighty power doth make the strongest walls from their foundations shake. All-conquering Master of Mankind, rejioce in unity of those who stand with you. Rejioce at the deaths of those who stand against you. And be reborn unto us. Oh, Emperor. Oh, Emperor. Praise the Emperor" In the Chapel, all was black. And there stood a hansome youth with a face like newly fallen snow, blond hair flowing from a perfect scalp, eyes the brightest shade of electric blue, and robes of white linen lined with gold thread. And a single, heavenly word left his perfect lips... "Hello."

The Emperor Born Again

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The Emperor Born Again

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