The ashes were blowing in the wind that caressed the ruins of the fields of Mandros Nova. The star ship Excurso Silentium loomed overhead, bordering the orbit close enough to blot the smoked skies. A lone statue survived of an Astartes, it's sword arm raised and intact, more symbolic now than ever with it's ferrocrete blade burning with white hot phosphor. At it's base a lone survivor remained, bleeding out from a bolt round that tore his left shoulder apart. A man approached with grim determination, his black coat-tails flying back with the wind, covered by the dust and ashes. "This. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you were looking for?" The man bleeding could only stare back as the shock of the wound drained him of life. His eyes, blurred and red, stared at the bolt pistol being trained on his face. "Is this the legacy you wish to leave? Is this ruin what you would embrace the Imperium with?" The man beneath the statue coughed up blood. Weakly, slowly, he raised his arm in protest. "The Astronomican Shrine of Mandros Nova. The brotherhood of the Song. Turned against their duties," The man with the pistol declared. lowering his weapon, as he stared at the statue. "They were supposed to be our heroes. Let us remember them as our saviors, and not as our betrayers. They were supposed to save us all," The man trailed off, as he stared the man, theirs eyes locking. "But I must save us, from you, Zadiom, and your accursed chorus." As the man's words ended, the rising chant over the vox network screeched. Iron Within. Iron Without Zadiom Sethe managed to speak then, calling on the last of his strength, "We did...not...call them....here."
