Chirannis awoke to the sound of creaking metal and howling wind. His head ached terribly; he tried to open his eyes, causing white-hot flashes of pain to wash down his robust frame, which convulsed with each crippling wave. He moved to hold his head in his hands, but immediattely discovered that he was bound by shackles. He roared and struggled against the restraints, every cell of his Astartes physiology fighting to break free, but it was no use. He again tried to open his eyes, only to be wracked by searing agony unlike anything he had felt before. Disoriented and suffering, Chirannis focused on his breathing, knowing that he must remain calm and assess the situation as best as he can.

He listened carefully to his surroundings. Judging from the groaning of steel around him, he deduced that he must be on some sort of craft. He noticed the telltale hum of plasma drives droning in the distance, confirming that he must be on some manner of starship, though which starship he was on was a mystery. What was more mysterious however, was the whooshing and whining coming from beyond the hull. "How can there be wind," he thought. Then he remembered...

----

"For the Emperor and Sanguinius!" he cried as he dove forward into the fray. With the flick of his thumb, his chainsword roared to life and cleaved into the breastplate of a traitorous Astartes clad in the green armor of Horus. Bright blood gushed freely from the greivous wound as the enemy slumped to his knees, nearly bisected from shoulder to groin. Chirannis roared triumphantly as he viciously pulled the sword from the corpse and immediately swung backwards, right into another traitor attempting to flank him. The enemy's arm fell from his body with an eruption of red, and the liberated limb skittered across the deck, propelled by the gnashing teeth of the still activated chainsword. Quickly adjusting his grip on his blade, Chirannis thrusted his churning weapon into the helmet of his foe then savagely kicked him into his chest, ripping the now lifeless body free of his blade.

The carnage on the deck of the Vengeful Spirit belied the fact that Chirannis and the rest of the Sanguinary Guard had arrived only minutes before. Almost immediately upon setting foot upon Horus's flagship, waves of traitors crashed against them, roaring with heretical fervor. But, just as quickly as they appeared, they fell one by one as Chirannis and his brothers in blood cut them down like field grass. Azure light pulsed threateningly from the glaives of his brothers as the blades tore through ceramite and flesh like paper, spraying slag and viscera into the air like rain. Chirannis grinned behind his intricately carved mask as he forged forward through the fray.

A familiar voice crackled in his helmet, "Why do you insist on using that primitive weapon, Rexx? You are a member of the Guard, you should be wielding your glaive!" With a laugh, Chirannis replied mockingly, "I should use my glaive, you say? Does it look like I am having any trouble with this "primitive" weapon, Darius?" Chirannis twisted his body and easily parried a vicious but unsteady thrust from a green armor-clad Astartes, responding with a elbow to the face that collapsed the helmet in, surely crushing the skull of the unfortunate traitor behind it. "Maybe not," Darius chuckled, "but you look like a damn fool swinging that glorified tree cutter around!" Chirannis laughed, but immediately stifled himself as a familiar, booming voice echoed in his helmet. "Enough chatter! Proceed towards the bridge, the Emperor has arrived!" shouted the Primarch Sanguinius over the vox. The guard immediately replied in one voice, "Yes sir!"

----

Breathing deeply, Chirannis tried once more to open his eyes. With a grimace, every muscle in his body tensed as he slowly opened his eyes, bright light flooding his vision and sending shockwaves of pain through every cell in his body. With steady resolve, he fought through the pain and fully opened his eyes, waiting for them to focus. "There we go... Now focus, damn it... Where am I?" he muttered to himself harshly as his surroundings slowly came into focus. He was lying on his back on a metal table, and bright flood lamps burned a few feet above his head. Straining his neck, he saw his hands, feet, and torso bound by thick ceramite shackles bolstered with black, matte metal. He was as naked as a newborn, his body covered in purple and green bruises. "I have been here for some time..." Chirannis whispered to himself.

"Yes, you have."

That voice. No, it couldn't be, Chirannis thought. For the first time since awakening, fear washed over him. He had heard that voice before, that tone and timbre. It was the voice of a Primarch. "Why am I not dead?" Chirannis asked, trying his best to suppress the dread that creeped over him from infecting his voice. The sound of footsteps, closer. "You were, until I decided that you should live. You should feel honored," replied the voice. Footsteps. "Where am I? Where are my brothers-in-arms?" Laughter, cruel laughter. "You are in my domain, and your brothers are all dead. Like I said, you should feel honored." Chirannis shuddered and struggled fruitlessly against the restraints. "Fret not, they were weak. That is why they died! But I see the potential for true strength in you." Footsteps approached until Chirannis could feel a hulking presence above his head. "I will unlock this potential." Massive hands grasped Chirannis' head from both sides, his body shaking violently from the agony of the grip. Try as he might, he let loose a howl of pain. "Yes! Savor the pain, pain makes you strong, and when I am through with you..." The figure bent over, and Chirannis began to weep as he beheld the cruel visage of The Red Angel Angron.

"When I am through with you, you will be STRONG!" The whoosh of a pneumatic activator indicated that a door had opened, and suddenly the room filled with a cacophony of clacking sounds, like hooves on sheet metal. A chrome sphere descended from the ceiling and blossomed like a flower, and several robotic arms plunged downwards with all manner of surgical attachments humming to life. The clammering sounds drew closer, and Chirannis saw that an audience of foul beasts had gathered around him, their taut red skin stretched comically over their exaggerated musculature. Their cruel, unnatural red eyes glimmered mockingly as they cackled. Why didn't I die, back on the Vengeful Spirit like my brothers, he thought. Rage, sadness, and, especially, fear flooded his thoughts as the mechanical arms creeped down closer to his skull. "I WANT TO DIE!" Chirannis roared as a laser cutter sprung to life and drew slowly across his forehead.

"I WANT TO DIE!"

Black wisps of smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the room.

"I WANT TO DIE!"

The daemons cackled with horrible delight, clamoring over each other to get a better view.

A voice whispered in his ear, "No. You will live." And everything went black.

The trek to the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit was slow-going. Countless bodies littered the cold steel floor of the bloated hulk as the Sanguinary Guard carved and blasted their way through the labyrinthine corridors, their resplendent gold armor spattered with the blood of their enemies. It seemed that every shadow, every corner of every hall bore some threat ready to strike, yet the brave Astartes continued forward relentlessly, casting down anyone foolish enough to stand in their way.

Chirannis' helmet crackled, "I never thought I'd see the day where I'd see my brothers at the end of my blade... It's, surreal." Stepping back against the edge of a corner, he peeked his head around to survey the next corridor. "They ceased to be your brother the very moment they decided to follow that heretic, Darius. Now, they are just corpses ready for internment," Chirannis spoke plainly. Still, the two words "heretic" and "Horus" seemed so wrong juxtaposed together. "How the mighty fall..." he pondered before swiftly striding forth into the corridor ahead.

The hall was dark, save for the amber emergency lamps that oscillated in time with the blaring klaxon. Chirannis' helmet adjusted the visual input immediately to compensate for the lack of light as his eyes darted back and forth vigilantly. Darius' voice crackled over the vox, "Where is everyone?" The group of Astartes immediately stopped in their tracks, immediately moving back to back instinctively, as if some invisible threat surrounded them. "This isn't right. We've been harangued non-stop since setting foot on this vessel." The telltale chink of bolter shells entering the chamber echoed down the passage, and Chirannis moved his thumb to the activation switch on his chainsword.

The unit surveyed the corridor up and down, tentatively moving forward with weapons at the ready. An acrid, sulphurous smell crept into Chirannis' helmet, burning his nose even after the sensory filter kicked on. "Do you smell that?" he asked. "Wh..-ell...Don't...Good," the response echoed in his helmet with a blast of static and digital feedback. With a bright flash of light, the emergency lamps were extinguished and the klaxons silent. Chirannis responded with a flick of his thumb and his chainsword churned to life. His visor flickered as it began to compensate for the darkness, and for a moment he glimpsed a line of shadowy figures moving frighteningly quickly down the hall. "FOR THE EMPER-" Chirannis belted before his voice was ripped from his throat at the horror approaching: cruel, unnatural beasts with cloven hooves and taught red skin skittered forth with supernatural speed. Each one held a wickedly serrated blade in their gnarled, clawed hands that pulsed threateningly with arcane energy, and long pink tongues danced from their toothy maws, licking their lips like wolves encroaching on a wounded doe.

Chirannis blinked, and the beasts were upon them, gibbering madly. The speed and accuracy of their strikes were fearsome, and he knew immediately that a lesser Astartes would have been flayed by those wicked blades before he could even raise his bolter. He fought with every ounce of strength and skill, very well aware that he was now fighting for his life. His vox crackled and hissed with static as sparks flew and muzzle flashes strobed in the hall as he and the rest of the elite guard battled the foul beasts. Chirannis parryed a thrusting strike that nearly took his head and promptly counter-attacked with a savage strike that cleaved into the neck of the daemon, which let loose a scream of ecstacy as he collapsed onto the ground, thick black blood hemmoraging from the wound. Chirannis turned to see his friend Darius engaged with two daemons, his Glaive Encarmine narrowly deflecting the ceaseless savage blows from the cruel blades of his enemy.

Before he had a chance to react, a daemon rushed passed Chirannis, directly towards the back of Darius. It sprung into the air and came down upon his winged back, driving his blade deep into the back of the golden warrior. Within moments, Darius was on the ground, and the beasts converged, tearing him limb from limb with ungodly strength. Chirannis roared at the sight of his fallen friend and blasted forward like a bolter shell, crashing into the foul horde with incredible force. With one broad swing, four daemons were felled, all bisected by the grievous slash. He picked another daemon up by the back of his neck and slammed it into the steel wall of the corridor, its head smashing like a ripe melon against pavement, leaving a sickening black splotch of gore that oozed down to the floor.

Confusion swept across the unit as they fought desperately against the daemonic hordes. Blood and bolter smoke filled the air as Chirannis fought like a crazed beast, his chainsword hacking apart the red-skinned devils thrice at a time, only for thrice more to take their place. These creatures were unlike any foe he had ever fought, and he utilized every bit of training he had ever received just to stay on his feet. Then, suddenly, the beasts scattered away from the ragged group of Astartes, leaving as quickly as they came. The static over his vox began to fade. Chirannis rushed to the torn and bloody remains of his friend and clutched his masked head in his hands. "They got Darius!" he shouted, and the rest of his brothers gathered around.