Chapter 126 – The Flame That Calls

Chapter 126 – The Flame That Calls

Ashhold stood strong.

It had been a month since the five Salamanders crash-landed in this broken version of Earth. A month of rebuilding, protecting, and fighting off Sentinels that never seemed to stop coming. The city around them was still ash and ruin, but inside the walls of Ashhold, there was something else, hope.

Ardent stood in the chapel alone. The soft red lights glowed against the cold steel walls. Welded to the center of the wall was a rough image of the two-headed eagle, a symbol of the Imperium. Below it, names had been carved. Names of mutants who had fallen. Names of humans they had saved. And names of those they couldn’t.

He stood there quietly, helmet under his arm, his other hand resting against the wall, feeling the cool metal.

He didn’t speak, not at first.

Then, without warning, his eyes widened.

Something… someone was reaching him.

Not through voice. Not through words.

But through the Warp.

Ardent's body froze as he felt a massive presence brush against his soul. It wasn’t chaotic, it wasn’t violent, it was something greater. Calmer. Yet infinitely powerful.

He dropped to one knee immediately.

He didn’t need to ask who it was.

He already knew.

The Emperor had found them.

And He was Coming.

Meanwhile, on Terra...

The throne room of the Imperial Palace was massive, bathed in golden light. It stretched high into the sky, and the sound of giant machines echoed through the silence. In the center of it all stood the Emperor of Mankind. Tall, regal, and impossibly powerful. His golden armor glowed faintly, and his presence alone could silence a world.

Before Him, the Multiversal Gate stood complete. Massive rings of polished metal hovered in the air, spinning slowly. Sparks of light danced along the surface. It was ready.

He didn’t smile, but there was something in His eyes. He had seen the signal. Felt the touch of His sons, trapped in that other Earth.

Five of His Salamanders. Five of Vulkan’s children.

And they had survived.

He reached out psychically, touching the world where they now lived.

And they felt it.

His voice, calm and strong, echoed into Ardent’s mind.

“My son. Hold fast. I am coming.”

Later that evening, inside the war council chamber, four of the Emperor’s sons stood before Him.

They weren’t just warriors. They were the Primarchs. His most powerful creations. Each one stood taller than any human, wearing armor decorated with symbols of their Legions.

Horus, the firstborn. Proud and powerful, his dark armor glinted with every movement.

Perturabo, quiet and cold-eyed, stood off to the side, analyzing the room with his sharp mind.

Sanguinius, the angel-winged warrior, calm and noble, his white armor shining like starlight.

And Vulkan, strong as a mountain, his dark skin glowing faintly with inner heat. He was silent, but his fists were clenched. His eyes burned with concern.

“They are alive,” the Emperor said simply. “Five of your sons, Vulkan. Still fighting.”

Vulkan took a step forward. “Then let me go to them.”

The Emperor nodded. “You shall.”

He turned to all of them. “This Earth… this world, it is broken. Not like Terra. It is dying. But there are people there. Mutants. Survivors. And your brothers.”

Horus smirked. “Another war then?”

Perturabo crossed his arms. “Another battle, another ruin to repair.”

Sanguinius shook his head. “It’s not just war. It’s a rescue.”

Vulkan’s voice was low but full of fire. “They’ve held the line. Alone. For a month. They’re waiting.”

The Emperor looked over them all. “Prepare your forces. Your Legions will move when the Gate opens.”

Vulkan bowed his head. “Thank you, Father.”

Back in the Ashhold chapel...

Ardent rose slowly from his knee. His breathing was steady, but his heart pounded like a drum. The Emperor had reached him. The connection had been brief, but real.

The others had gathered. Kassor, Idras, Thule, and Arran stood in silence behind him, unsure what had just happened.

“What is it?” Kassor asked.

Ardent turned, eyes glowing faintly. “His Coming, The Emperor is Coming.”

There was no need to explain who.

“Wait… you mean—” Thule started, but Ardent nodded.

“Yes. Him.”

They all stood a little straighter.

Kassor let out a low whistle. “About damn time.”

“He said to hold,” Ardent continued. “He’s coming. And He’s bringing the Legions. And Our Gene Father Vulkan.”

Arran chuckled. “Let’s hope the Sentinels like fireworks.”

They all smiled, just a little.

Thule looked up at the makeshift shrine, eyes narrowing. “Guess we better make sure this place is still standing when they get here.”

Ardent stepped forward and placed his helmet back on. “We hold the line. We wait for the fire to come.”

Outside in the courtyard…

The Ashhold was still awake, even at night. Spotlights scanned the skies. Mutants on patrol walked along the walls, weapons ready. Logan leaned against the outer gate, arms crossed.

He glanced up as Ardent and the others stepped outside.

“You alright?” he asked.

Ardent nodded. “Better than alright.”

Logan raised a brow. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Ardent looked at the stars. “Not a ghost. A father.”

Logan didn’t understand what that meant, but he understood the look in Ardent’s eyes.

Hope.

Real hope.

Not the kind that fades in battle. The kind that grows stronger with every step.

“Good,” Logan muttered. “We’re gonna need it.”

Far above, back on Terra…

The Emperor stood before the Multiversal Gate again.

The power around it surged.

His sons had gathered their Legions.

The Gate’s rings spun faster.

He watched, silent, hands behind His back.

And then, quietly, to no one:

“Soon.”

End of Chapter 126 – The Flame That Calls