The First Heretic

‘Do not hunt for something to worship,’ Magnus said, ‘merely because your faith was proven false.’

Lorgar followed his brother, slender fingers toying with the hem of his grey robe’s sleeve. The Word Bearers primarch spent much of his time on Colchis in this spire-top observatory, staring up at the stars. It was here that he’d watched and waited for the Emperor’s arrival so many decades ago, mistaken in the belief that he would be a god worthy of worship.

‘Is that how you see me?’ he asked Magnus, his voice softer than before. Hurt shone in his eyes, flecked with buried anger. ‘Is that how you judge my actions? That I cast about in ignorance, desperate for something, anything, to hear my prayers?’

Magnus watched the stars coming out for the night. He noted several constellations already – their shapes taken and bestowed on Chapters within the Word Bearers Legion. There, the faint image of a crozius crowned with a skull; there, the high seat, adopted as the symbol of the Osseous Throne; and there, the flared circle of the serrated sun.

‘That is how history will judge you,’ said Magnus, ‘if you remain devoted to this path. No one will see your desire to elevate humanity or raise the species into some unknown enlightenment. They will see you humiliated and weak, desperate for something to believe in.’

‘Humanity is nothing without faith,’ Lorgar whispered.

‘And yet we do not need religion to explain the universe. The Emperor’s light illuminates all.’

‘That is what you always fail to see,’ Lorgar moved over to a table with several crystal wine glasses. ‘You think faith is about fear. About needing things explained to ignorant minds. Faith is the greatest unifying element in mankind’s history. Faith was all that kept the light of hope burning through the millennia on the thousands of worlds we now reclaim in this Crusade.’

‘So you say, brother.’ Magnus shrugged. ‘You will not be judged kindly for that belief.’

Lorgar poured a glass of dark wine, its scent heightened by the powdered spices added during its fermentation. Lacking the climate for grape vineyards, Colchisian wine was almost always made from dates. The bitter drink reddened his lips as he sipped it.

‘We are immortal,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘Why would we worry for the future when we will still be around to shape it?’

Magnus ventured no answer.

‘You’ve seen something,’ Lorgar pressed. ‘Something in the Great Ocean. Something in the warp you stare into so often. Some... some hint at what might be. A future yet to come?’

‘It doesn’t work that way, brother.’

‘You’re lying. You are lying to me.’

Magnus turned his gaze from the darkening sky. ‘Sometimes you see and hear only what you wish. You’re wrong, Lorgar. Father is not a god. There are no gods.’

At last, Lorgar smiled as if he’d waited hours for those words to be spoken.

‘Is he a magical sky-spirit dwelling inside a mythical paradise? No. I am not a fool. He is not a god as primitive cultures once understood the concept. But the Emperor is a god in all but name, Magnus. He is psychic power incarnated within a physical shell. When he speaks, his lips never move and his throat makes no sound. His face is a thousand visages at once. The only aspect of humanity he possesses is the facade he wears to interact with mortals.’

‘That’s a very melodramatic perception.’

‘And it is true. The only difference between you and I is that you call him father, and I call him a god.’

Magnus sighed, his breath rumbling as he suppressed a growl. ‘I see where you are leading with this. Now I see why you summoned me. And Lorgar... I am leaving.’

Lorgar offered a golden hand, reaching out to his brother. ‘Please, Magnus. If the Emperor is what he is, there might be other beings that wield the same power. How can so many legends of divinity, from so many disparate cultures, all agree on other powers that exist beyond the veil? There must be gods in the universe. Our species’ most natural instincts cannot be wrong.’

‘This reeks of desperation,’ Magnus sighed. ‘Have you considered that father warned you for a reason?’

‘There is no shame in seeking the truth, Magnus. You of all souls should know that. Have you seen nothing of this in your travels through the Great Ocean? No beings that a human civilisation could perceive as a god or daemon?’

Magnus did not reply. His gaze burned into his brother.

‘My mind is alive with questions,’ the Word Bearer lord confessed. ‘Where in the galaxy would gods and mortals meet?’

The giant’s lip curled. ‘The Great Ocean hides much beneath its tides, Lorgar. We have both walked worlds where the warp bleeds into our reality, only to be manipulated by heathen ritemasters and misinterpreted as “magic”. Would you deceive yourself as they do?’

‘Stay,’ Lorgar implored. ‘Help me.’

Magnus shook his head. ‘Help you stare into the abyss? You want me to guide you along the paths walked by primitives and barbarians?’

Lorgar drew a shaky breath before replying.