"Sir… are you alright?"
Sanguinius turned and smiled at the small child standing behind him.
"Of course, little one. Why do you ask?"
"You've been staring at the sky for a long time."
The child did not understand.
The skies of Baal Secundus were always dim — ash-colored clouds drifting above a poisoned world. Nothing beautiful lingered there.
Yet their lord watched the heavens as if expecting a miracle.
Sanguinius knelt and gently brushed dust from the child's cheek with pale fingers.
"I am waiting for my father."
The Angel of Baal
Long before the coming of the Imperium, Baal had been broken.
Ancient wars had scorched its surface. Radiation storms scoured the deserts. Mutants, rad-scorpions, and ash wastes devoured the weak. Civilization survived only in fragments.
The Primarch's gestation pod fell upon Baal Secundus, where the tribes later known as the Revenant Legion discovered a winged child in the wastes.
At first, they thought him a mutant — and on Baal, mutants were slain.
Some tried.
They died.
The child slew the rad-scorpions with his bare hands and walked the poisoned deserts untouched. His presence calmed the savage and inspired the desperate.
They named him an angel.
They worshipped him as a god.
He rejected both.
"I am no god," he told them.
They continued kneeling.
He led them.
He protected them.
He brought unity to scattered tribes.
Under his guidance, Baal's people endured.
They called him Sanguinius.
They called him Saint Gilles.
He answered to both.
The Premonition
Days earlier, a vision had come to him.
A golden giant.
A blazing host.
A destiny descending from the heavens.
Sanguinius did not know whether it heralded salvation… or doom.
So he prepared.
He armed his warriors.
And he walked alone into the desert to meet fate.
The Arrival
The sky split with light.
A vast golden vessel descended like a predatory sun-bird, its engines burning against the toxic clouds.
Warriors in gold emerged in perfect formation, forming a corridor of living statues.
Sanguinius stepped forward, sword at his side.
"Greetings, strangers."
He spoke in the tribal tongue of Baal.
The golden warriors did not respond.
For a brief moment, the Angel wondered how they would communicate.
Then a voice spoke — not through air, but through mind and soul.
"My son."
The voice matched his language perfectly, as if drawn from his own thoughts.
"I am the Emperor. I am your father."
Sanguinius looked into the giant's eyes.
Within them he saw humanity entire — suffering, striving, endless.
Not a man.
A purpose.
The tension lingered in the air.
Yuki elbowed the Emperor.
"Must you make it sound so dramatic? He's your son, not a foreign ambassador."
The Emperor glanced at her… and said nothing.
Sanguinius blinked in surprise.
In his visions, there had been no such figure — someone who resembled him, yet felt wholly different.
Yuki stepped forward.
"I am Yuki — your sister. And look, I have two more pairs of wings than you."
Her Baalite dialect was clumsy, but her warmth required no translation.
Sanguinius laughed softly.
"I am Sanguinius. Do all my siblings possess wings?"
The Emperor frowned faintly as he studied the Primarch's white pinions.
Sanguinius felt a flicker of unease.
Yuki transmitted quickly:
"You're frightening him."
"He should not have wings."
"And I shouldn't have four?"
The Emperor paused.
"…your genome was already irregular. It was not worth correcting."
Yuki's eye twitched.
The psychic link abruptly closed.
Sanguinius watched their silent exchange with growing amusement.
Yes, he thought. The future will not be dull.
Terms of Allegiance
Later, in a quiet chamber overlooking Baal's settlements, Sanguinius spoke.
"These people believe in me. The Imperium must not harm them… nor interfere with their way of life. If you agree, I will accept your offer."
Silence filled the chamber.
Heavy.
Immense.
When the Emperor spoke of his grand design, Sanguinius saw glory.
He also saw the bones beneath it.
"Father," he asked quietly, "you promise me a legion and the stars. If I refuse… what then?"
Silence.
"What am I to you?"
The Emperor looked beyond him.
Outside, children surrounded Yuki, laughing as she handed out sweets from hidden compartments in her armor. They clustered around her as they did their angel-lord.
After a long moment, the Emperor spoke.
"You are my son. Nothing more… and nothing less."
Sanguinius held his gaze.
"Then swear that the coming of the Imperium will bring peace to Baal."
"I swear."
Only then did Sanguinius realize how tightly his muscles had been wound.
He exhaled.
"Then let us speak of the future."
Terra
Guilliman stopped in the doorway.
He stared.
A breathtakingly beautiful winged man sat in Yuki's chair eating fruit.
Guilliman wondered if exhaustion had finally broken his mind.
Baal's deserts produced little edible food; fresh fruit was a revelation to Sanguinius. He was halfway through a cluster of grapes when he noticed Guilliman.
"What are you standing there for, brother?"
Guilliman startled.
The newcomer stepped forward with effortless grace.
"I am Sanguinius, of Baal Secundus in the Eastern Fringe. Father and Sister brought me to Terra."
"I am Roboute Guilliman, of Macragge. I returned to the Imperium six years ago."
"Macragge?"
Guilliman's chest expanded immediately.
"Yes — Macragge."
He proceeded to describe its order, prosperity, laws, and civic virtue in exhaustive detail.
Sanguinius listened attentively.
When Guilliman finished, the Angel smiled.
"It sounds wonderful. Baal is endless desert and ash. I would very much like to see Macragge someday."
Guilliman beamed.
"You will always be welcome, brother."
He felt an immediate affection for this Primarch — not merely for his beauty, but for his humility and gentle dignity.
"Why not hold a triumphal return parade?" Guilliman asked. "So your brothers and sons may know you?"
Sanguinius shook his head.
"I still have much to learn. I wish to understand the Imperium before I presume to lead within it."
Guilliman clutched his chest.
An angel, he thought. Undeniably an angel.
"It seems you two are getting along."
Yuki entered, taking in the scene: Sanguinius smiling politely, Guilliman staring at him like a devotional painting.
She nudged Guilliman.
"Even if he's handsome, try not to stare."
"I wasn't—"
Sanguinius stepped behind Yuki and wrapped his arms around her through the arch of his wings.
"Sister, you are the most beautiful."
She pinched his cheek.
"Stop flattering me and go read."
He made a wounded expression and sat beside her with a book and grapes.
Guilliman remained standing.
Sanguinius looked up.
"Brother? Is something wrong?"
Yuki blinked.
"He took your seat."
"Oh!" Sanguinius stood at once and moved his chair beside her. "My apologies."
Guilliman sat slowly, watching Sanguinius read while occasionally offering Yuki fruit.
He narrowed his eyes.
This one… might not be as simple as he appears.
Sanguinius glanced up.
"What is it, brother?"
"…nothing."
Guilliman lowered his gaze to his documents.
Probably fatigue.
Just fatigue.
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