After reclaiming the Emperor's Shield, Lion El'Jonson took decisive action on the dark fringes of the Imperium. In this age of turmoil, the Lion hoped to safeguard more of the Emperor's people from annihilation.
He led the Dark Angels to worlds completely isolated by the warp storms, bringing his presence to those in desperate need of protection.
He did not hide his movements. In truth, he waited for word from the Imperium.
Yet, throughout his campaign, unease gnawed at him. Would the High Lords and bureaucrats, ever fearful of losing their grip on power, seek to undermine him? Would they stir up dissent among the citizenry, or worse, incite the Astra Militarum and even the Astartes against him? Would they brand him an imposter and declare him a renegade?
What if the Imperium refused to acknowledge his actions?
Despite these fears, the Lion pressed forward—until the news came in an unexpected form.
"Your Highness, we have detected a combat vessel," reported the auspex officer. "The readings indicate it is the Wrath of Baal."
"The Blood Angels." The Lion inhaled sharply. The name stirred complex emotions within him.
The scions of his beloved brother, the noble sons of Sanguinius, were cause for both hope and concern. If they accepted him, it would be a sign that at least some of the Imperium still acknowledged his return. But if they rejected him...
He did not know if he could bear that.
As he weighed his options, a herald approached. "My Lord, the commander of the Blood Angels wishes to speak with you. They specifically ask for you."
A hush fell over the bridge. All present understood the gravity of this moment.
"We will receive them," the Lion declared without hesitation. "Order all ships in the fleet to power down their weapons systems. I want the Blood Angels to know they are welcome here."
A calculated risk. If the Blood Angels harbored hostility, it could be disastrous. But the Lion had faith in his fallen brother's sons.
He left the bridge and moved to the hangar bay, flanked by the Dark Angels. Together, they awaited their guests.
When the Blood Angels disembarked, their blood-red armor gleamed under the hangar lights. They moved in perfect formation, their discipline unmistakable. The Lion felt an unexpected pang of sorrow.
In visions of the past, he had declared his intent to carry on his lost brothers' legacies and restore the Imperium's destiny. Yet now, standing before the sons of the Archangel, he was struck by the weight of his own survival.
Why me? Why am I the one left to carry this burden?
The Blood Angels were formidable. Each warrior was nearly three meters tall, their ranks an unbroken wall of power and precision. They bore weapons and armor superior to what his own sons possessed.
For a fleeting moment, the Lion imagined leading these warriors. With such strength at his command, there would be no limit to what he could accomplish.
But he knew the truth. The Blood Angels had come not out of fealty, but to verify the identity he claimed.
From within their ranks, a figure emerged. He was clad in resplendent golden armor, his face concealed behind a mask.
The Lion's eyes locked onto that face—and fury surged within him.
"Who are you?!" he demanded, striding forward.
The sudden movement caused the Blood Angels to tense, but the Lion did not care. His anger burned too hot to temper.
"Who are you?" he thundered again. "And why do you wear my brother's face?!"
The golden visage of Sanguinius bore an expression of sorrow and pain. It was an image that tore at the Lion's heart, reopening wounds thought long sealed.
The warrior bowed. "I am Dante, Chapter Master of the Blood Angels," he said. "I greet you, Lion of Caliban, Lord of the Dark Angels, and Eldest Son of the Emperor."
In perfect unison, the Blood Angels knelt, their movements as precise as a Thunderhawk's descent.
The Lion hesitated. He had not expected this.
"You recognize me?"
"I do. You are older than I expected, but the way you recognized our Father's likeness speaks volumes. And I have met only one other who radiated the presence of a Primarch."
The Lion's eyes narrowed. "Another Primarch?" His throat was suddenly dry. "Tell me at once. Another of my brothers yet lives?"
Dante inclined his head. "I assumed the news had already reached you. The first Primarch I encountered was Roboute Guilliman of Ultramar."
The Lion's expression shifted to stunned disbelief. "Guilliman has awakened?"
"Yes," Dante confirmed. "The Regent of Terra came to Baal with another. They drove back the shadow of the Tyranids and saved my Chapter."
"Another?" The Lion's voice was sharp. "Who?"
Dante's brow furrowed. "Do you not know? He is called Dukel."
The Lion's reaction was immediate. Shock rippled through him as he cut Dante off. "What did you say?!"
"Dukel," Dante repeated, now uncertain. "Is there something amiss, my Lord?"
The Lion took a step back, his mind racing. Then he shook his head. "No... you are too young. You cannot possibly grasp the weight of that name. But is he truly awake?"
Dante's hesitation was brief. "Yes. And not only that. He used his power to save our Holy Father, the Archangel of Baal."
The Lion's heart pounded. "Sanguinius... saved?"
No Blood Angel would dare utter their father's name in deceit. That much he knew.
The implications sent a chill down his spine. Fear coiled in his chest like a living thing.
He inhaled, steadying himself. "You are to be trusted, son of Sanguinius. Come with me."
He turned to the Dark Angels. "Secure the area. No one is to approach."
Then, without another word, he all but dragged Dante into a secluded chamber.
Dante studied their dim surroundings before speaking. "May I ask why this secrecy, my Lord?"
"A disaster looms, one that could shatter the Imperium." The Lion's voice was grave. "To prevent it, I must act. But I cannot do it alone. Will you stand with me?"
Dante was silent for a long moment. "Before we departed, the Archangel commanded that I cooperate with you. But if you seek the aid of the Blood Angels, you must speak plainly."
The Lion regarded him carefully. Then he spoke.
"In Caliban, there was once an unnamed plant."
Dante listened intently. He knew that the First Legion guarded secrets older than most could fathom.
"It was unremarkable at a glance. Yet it could tame even the fiercest beasts. And wherever the beast roamed, this plant would grow. Even if it was burned to nothing, it would rise again from the ashes."
The Lion's gaze darkened. "The First Legion keeps no secrets. But I, as the Emperor's eldest son, have always known more. I once swore an oath to protect this secret for the Emperor himself."
He fixed Dante with an unwavering stare. "Now, son of Sanguinius, I ask you to swear the same."
"In the name of Sanguinius, I swear it," Dante said without hesitation.
Only then did the Lion nod in satisfaction.
"The beast has awakened," he murmured. "And the nameless plant will soon follow."
Dante met his gaze. "Tell me their names, Lord of the First Legion. The Blood Angels must know."
The Lion hesitated. Then, at last, he spoke.
"Randan."
He whispered, the blasphemy trembling in the Lion's hood with utter disgust.
At the sound of those words, Dante's expression behind the mask froze in shock.
It was not the first time he had heard them, yet every mention sent a shudder through him.
Moreover, the appearance of this word was always closely tied to the leader of the Second Legion.
"The giant beast you speak of... could it be His Highness Dukel?" Dante asked cautiously.
"What do you think of Duke?" the Lion asked, his piercing gaze sharpening as if to pierce through Dante's mask and lay bare his thoughts.
"Powerful, fearless, and invincible."
Under the overwhelming presence of the Primarch, Dante strove to keep his reply succinct.
"Then I believe you truly have seen Dukel." Lion El'Jonson sighed. "Yes, he is the strongest and most courageous among our brothers. A scholar of unmatched brilliance, a masterful commander. As a warrior, even Horus once openly envied his bravery."
A strange emotion flickered in the Lion's voice, but Dante dared not press further. Instead, he asked,
"I have heard that His Highness Dukel once served as the Supreme War Marshal of the Imperium?"
"You know much." The Lion regarded him with a touch of surprise, though a glint of danger lingered in his emerald eyes. At that moment, he looked every bit the great predator his namesake implied. Yet, he nodded.
"Yes. These qualities made the Lord of the Second Legion the Imperium's most fearless pioneer. He led twenty Imperial Legions in the early days of the Great Crusade, expanding the Emperor's domain with unstoppable momentum. In mere decades, the Imperium stretched across most of the known galaxy."
The Lion's voice drifted, as if carried back ten thousand years. Dante, drawn in by his words, felt his mind pulled into visions of that golden age. He saw it—the Great Crusade in its full splendor. The Primarchs leading their legions side by side, carving a path of victory across the stars. If anyone other than a Primarch had told this tale, Dante, a son born into the grim darkness of the present age, would scarcely believe it.
But the illusion shattered as the Lion's tone suddenly shifted. A deep sorrow bled into his words, yanking Dante back to the grim present.
"Until I met Ran'Daan."
Dante stiffened. The name alone carried the weight of an untold catastrophe.
"At first, the Imperium did not perceive Ran'Daan as a significant threat. The First, Second, and Mortarion's Fourteenth Legions were deployed. The High Lords estimated that such a force would suffice to cleanse the system. They were not wrong. But the true mistake was allowing the Second Legion to approach."
The Lion's voice hardened.
"The Randan xenos wielded a unique form of psychic technology—an art that could subjugate entire species to their will."
"Psychic dominion?" Dante murmured in shock.
"You've heard of it?" The Lion's eyes narrowed.
"I once heard His Highness Dukel speak of it. He seemed... familiar with such power."
"Yes." Pain flashed across the Lion's face. "Neither Mortarion nor I understood the depths of this 'mental energy.' But Dukel... he had already grasped its secrets. He studied it—too closely."
"At first, we thought little of it. Then, as the Lord of the Second Legion delved deeper—"
"He went mad."
"Mad?!" Dante gasped. He had expected an epic battle, not... this.
"Yes. We do not know how or when the Randan influence took root. But from that moment, Dukel turned against the Imperium. And then, he declared—"
The Lion hesitated, as if the words themselves were too painful to speak.
"Dukel claimed the Emperor was the greatest threat to humanity. He vowed to overthrow Him."
"What?!" Dante was stunned. The very idea was unthinkable.
But the Lion did not acknowledge his disbelief. The tale had weighed on him for too long, and he now spoke as if unburdening his soul.
"Only when Dukel launched his counterattack did we understand the true power of the Second Legion. The Imperium mustered its might—countless regiments, tens of thousands of war machines. Eight Primarchs, with more than half a million Astartes, led the charge."
Dante swallowed. "And the outcome?" Though he suspected the answer, he had to ask.
"We lost."
The word struck like a thunderbolt.
"The entire galaxy burned. Even with half of the Imperium's military might, we could not halt Dukel and the Second Legion. The Imperium stood on the precipice of annihilation."
Only the Emperor's direct intervention turned the tide."
Dante remained silent. The magnitude of the war was beyond comprehension. Half a million Astartes. Eight Primarchs. Yet even such a force had faltered.
Now, at last, he understood why the Lion spoke of a 'beast.'
Because no mortal could have stopped Dukel. Only the Emperor Himself could.
"Do you now understand, son of Sanguinius?"
Dante flinched as the Lion's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"We must prevent the Randan xenos from reaching His Highness Dukel again." Dante murmured.
"No." The Lion's eyes burned with conviction. "We must annihilate them. To prevent history from repeating itself, we will sacrifice everything."
Dante clenched his fists, his uncertainty hardening into resolve.
"Then I will carry out your will. The Blood Angels will ensure Randan is buried once more."
He dropped to one knee.
"But I have one request, Lord Lion."
"Speak."
"Erase our memories after the war."
The Lion regarded him for a long moment before nodding. "It will be done. The burden of this truth will rest with the Dark Angels alone. We will bear it, as we always have."
"Thank you, great Lion."
Dante departed in silence, leaving behind only the towering shadow of the First Primarch. Alone in the chamber, Lion El'Jonson whispered to the void.
"Father, is this why you called me back? Is this the fate you intended for me?"
The darkness faded. He stood once more in the forests of Caliban, where the old king awaited him.
For the first time in ten thousand years, the Lion saw his father's approving gaze.
"Dukel, this time, the Dark Angels will protect both you and the Imperium."
As those words left his lips, the fire within him rekindled. Strength surged through his body. Wrinkles smoothed, muscle returned, and his pale hair gleamed golden once more.
When the Lion emerged from the chamber, he was no longer the weary old warrior of the past.
Nor was he the reckless youth of the Crusade.
He had become something greater—something reborn.
A calm, resolute guardian of the Imperium.