Prologue

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It was time. Months of battles, toils and trials led him to this moment and to the life that would await him afterwards. Once he donned the crimson power armor and everyday afterwards he would realize that the Father of Blood, Sanguinius, would have been watching over him and aiding him in every moment of his life, for this.

The young neophyte wore black robes as he walked through the halls of the fortress monastery found on Kavillion Secondus. The place the Crimsons Sons of Vengeance called home. He was quickly escorted by two Sons. One, what they called a Chaplain, all clad in black robes similar to his own but with a large hood hiding his features, the other, what they called a Priest, all clad in white robes with a large hood hiding his features. The nearly eight foot tall men each had a hand resting on his shoulders. The trio walked into a large room filled with what seemed like vertical sarcophagi. Each one was adorned with the name ‘Sanguinius’, Primarch of the IX Legion Astartes, as well as an engraved image of the Primarch at a specific event or battle, at times victorious over foes at others standing vigilant beside his sons or one of the his brother Primarchs. Dating back to the Dark Age of Technology, these devices were known to have many varied uses from Chapter to Chapter. Anyone close enough to the heart of such a Chapter knew that these machines had the power to reach into a man’s psyche and allow him to relive events or moments in times past without physically leaving the sarcophagus.

The door of one of these lay open. They walked towards it and the neophyte was permitted to walk in. His heart began to race as he entered the confined space. Turning, he now saw both hooded figures waiting for him to continue with the ritual of indoctrination. With a nod to them, both men began to strap him into the sarcophagus and inspected to see if he was prepared physically and psychologically for this final step. He began to slow his breathing and shut his comrade’s rumors and stories out of his mind. They said and whispered of the screams and tortured cries and sobs that often were emitted from this room. The stories went on to recount events where full grown space marine veterans had exited this room and shortly thereafter joined The Marked or how some lost all will to fight. He shook his head quickly and focused on the Priest’s prayers and blessings while the Chaplain’s steady hands finished verifying each strap. When all was said and done both Sons stepped back.

“Are you prepared Brother Silva?” asked the warden of his ward.

The neophyte nodded. Shortly thereafter, the lid was sealed shut and a thick substance was pumped in. Brother Silva knew that his life would end here and that whoever exited this sarcophagus would be destined for things of greatness under the ever watchful eye of Sanguinius and the Emperor. As the liquid rose above his head, his fears calmed and his doubts disappeared. For the last time as a mere man, he drank deep. The metallic taste of blood entered his mouth and he knew no more.

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