Vaclav Ternol entered the room, his massive frame blocking the light from the opened door. A few steps - far less than what had taken her to - brought him next to the remembrancer.
"Sergeant Ternol", Gizelda Amaranth said with affection. Throughout her 10 year stay with the Word Bearers, Vaclav had become almost a friend - as much as an Astartes could.
"Gizelda", the warrior said, sitting, "I hope the night finds you well".
"Days of battle find me only yearning for new stories. And I've heard you have a great one to tell me".
"Great, yes, but not happy. This day has left a mark on us all. The coming weeks will se many of my brethren going into reclusion and prayer."
"Hold on, let me write that. It'll make one hell of an introduct...", she stopped as she noticed the less than approving look the Astartes shot her. She still let her curiosity take the best of her, breaching Legion privacy was a harsh mistake, if this wasn't Vaclav, she would've been left alone and with no story . "Well, I'm sure I'll remember a better one during your account. Er-shall we begin?"
Ternol smiled, despite himself. "Of course. This, then, is the tale of how the Word Bearers claimed Oracion for Mankind and the Emperor."
One thousand Astartes stood frozen, unable to advance any further annd lend aid to their Primarch. It wasn't fear that left them so, but the nature of the enemy facing Lorgar. As hard as it was to admit for the legionnaires, the being was as hard to look at as the Primarch himself. The light it irradiated was impossibly bright, and it had just revived at least twenty of its warriors.
It was an angel. The significance was not lost on a Legion who saw the Emperor as a god.
Wings as wide as those of the Blood Angels' Primarch, it hovered above it's troops in the center of the square, with only Lorgar facing it. The...angel...was vaguely feminine, with a shaven head and only a crimson cloth covering his body.
"You see, then, how true is our face?", one of the soldiers asked, defiantly, his voice rasping but his pose stoic.
Lorgar's eyes narrowed. He seemed largely unimpressed with the winged creature, but as a son, but his sons knew there were questions racing through his mind. Shifting his eyes from the soldiers to the "angel", the Primarch spoke.
"Your warriors seem aghast. You seem to have done a poor job of reviving them".
The angel lifted her head and her look became even icier.
"You shall not speak to The Ala so, tyra..." the Oracian soldier who spoke was cut short by a terrible cough, finally painting the tiled floor with blood.
Lorgar laughed, and his laughter brought his sons from the stupor they were in. In a few seconds, they joined their Primarch in laughter, though doubt still creeped into their minds. Nevertheless, the enemy soldiers were cut down by bolter fire in less than a minute.
Now, only the so-called angel and the Primarch stood on the elevated marble. Lorgar was magnificent, his armour ivory like those saints in the churches the Word Bearers built. Red scrolls with golden Colchisian runes hanged from his bone-white armour, as did the slab-grey rags of his vest at the retaking of Colchis. Above his head, twin eagles enveloped the Helios Imperial and the Primarch's work, The Book of Lorgar.
"Show your true nature, then, or die a parody", Lorgar said to angel, a smile on his lips.
The winged being had no mouth, which only added to the unease of the Word Bearers. What it had as a line, running from under her nose to the base of her neck.
Lorgar was noticing this when the "line" suddendly opened to reveal a fanged, horizontal mouth. The light from the angel died, replaced by a purple-black smoke. It roared, the sound that of a hundred women screaming in agony, and launched itself at the Primarch.
"And then?" the remembrancer asked.
"It wasn't a match for Lorgar. One blow from the Illuminarum was all it took", Vaclav Ternol answered.
"But Then why...". She didn't finish her question. The Astartes was already exiting the room.
The warrior didn't answer. He felt bad for letting Gizelda down, but he suspected he wouldn't have been able to disguise the anguish he felt now, as he recalled how distraught in the eyes of Lorgar as he stood above the broken angel, how much it had grieved him to see such a being turn into a creature of darkness.
Merry Christmas, mates.