The Council of Catachan was, for all intents and purposes, complete. Horus Lupercal, Warmaster of the Coalition, moved his fingers across the eldar organ and mused on eternity.

The organ (though calling it such was only an approximation to the instrument's complexity) had been a gift from the Eldar Craftworld Alaitoc's delegation, part of an exchange to commemorate the alliance. Horus had known that humanity had less in the way of ingenuity to offer the Eldar, so he had instead given away a large archival spaceship. Its delegation of remembrancers were to stay with the Eldar for some time, learning about the alien species; an official delegation of eldar Artists would also be present aboard the Vengeful Spirit.

None of them were here now; only Horus, Sanguinius contributing to the melody - the organ was possible to play for only one Primarch, but more complex music could be produced by two if they worked in harmony - and Ethyn Tandrith, the leader of the Eldar delegation, observing.

The song drifted out, rebounding through the acoustic funnels of the organ, both physical and psychic, to produce a melody of reflection.

"Abaddon," Sanguinius observed, "appears quite taken with his new arm."

"It's the best one in the Imperium," Horus said. "Unless you count Ferrus…. How is Raldoron?"

"More relaxed," Sanguinius answered, "but not overly so." Pause. "You still have that moonlit power, you know. It is useful to know oneself."

Sanguinius was not wrong; Horus had awakened his psychic potential in that battle against the assassins. It had not been necessary thus far – without a powerful Culexus, there had been little trouble in rooting out most of the Callidus infiltrators, although surely some in the Army fleets had evaded scrutiny still, and would serve as spies for a time. Independently of that, however, Horus was now not just a passive psychic being – that, all the Primarchs were – but a potentially active mage.

He was not happy about that. "Such power holds extreme danger," he said. "And I have no desire to lose my connection with mankind, either. I am still nowhere near the level of Magnus, or even your level, without the amplification of that skull; so this is not a key strategic weakness. And if I embrace this light, it is all too likely to destroy me."

"The Eldar unite in psychic powers, our dark kin abandon them, the Warp is not evil," Tandrith put in.

"But the Eldar are still greatly distinct from mankind," Horus replied. "Your moral system is tilted, and that with a biology designed to compensate for it. We Primarchs can fall. And that, now…." His power was in politics, in the realm of the physical mind. Guilliman had emphasized that Primarchs were more than warriors. Well, he needed to demonstrate that they were more than psykers.

"I understand," Sanguinius said.

Tandrith did, too. "Your path is not of the Seer, human analogue despised, no reason to reveal oneself. But remember – we fell not because of psychic powers, the Warp was only a mechanism, the reason was in our physical hearts."

Horus remembered the tales of the Fall of the Eldar. The xenos never spoke of the event in great detail, but the essence of it was that the pursuit of pleasure over millions of years, even by a fairly small empire, was sufficient to spawn an unintentional Warp God from nothing. Slaanesh had then devoured the gods of the Eldar – all, Tandrith said, but four: Khaine, god of war, Cegorach, god of trickery, Isha, god of healing, and Qah, god of night – and the entire Eldar empire, leaving only a few refugees.

"I do not want you to fall," Tandrith said, "because you are our last hope, so do not imagine yourself ever truly safe. What could have been, what could yet be, all has been thrust into uncertainty."

Horus smiled. "You're used to certainty. Humanity is not. We have ourselves, and thus we have all mankind."

Sanguinius slowly nodded as the melody began to crest. It flowed in ways quite unlike human music, but its beauty was undeniable. "And, Autarch Tandrith, before the Warmaster makes his pronouncement, I feel you are evolving one as well."

"Fluidly and fracturedly yes," Tandrith said, "though some of us will vehemently deny me on this, Comorragh and Biel-Tan alike. Before the subject of our mythology, the Eldar were created by the Old Ones, one of several species to fight a war against metallic monsters. The realspace component of the War in Heaven, a time before the Enemy awoke, believed to be the war to end all wars and decide the inheritor of the galaxy. The Old Ones may have been ceratopsid, their homeworld's civilization was destroyed at war's end, tectonic weapons and an asteroid thrown into the surface. The councils have discussed this, sixty-five million Terran years ago is within the accepted time frame, the original home of the Old Ones was at the galactic rim. This is why we contemplated helping humanity, because you are the heirs of the Old Ones, through a more circuitous path. The details are debatable, but Alaitoc has accepted from discussion with your fleet, humanity is the second spawn of Terra."

There was silence for a time. A prior galactic power from Terra – no, not just a galactic power, the greatest galactic power in history, the creator of the Eldar and perhaps – according to other legends Horus had heard – also the Orks and the Hrud. The ceratopsids, sapient, even technological; ended by an asteroid and volcanoes that were far from accidental. And this last alliance foretold by history, though indirectly. Minuscule odds, of course – although with the Warp, mere chance could not be relied on. And perhaps unengineered ecosystems were more creative.

"The depth…" Sanguinius marveled.

A beautiful idea. But it was time. "I have a speech to give," Horus said as the melody faded. "I do not know if I believe it myself, Autarch; yet I am honored that you would even consider the theory."

A few minor niceties, and then Horus and Sanguinius were walking through the hallways of the Vengeful Spirit, Tandrith departing in the other direction to his warriors.

"I must learn to guard myself psychically," Lupercal said. "That, at least, is true."

"We guard ourselves – and our sons guard us – rather well physically," Sanguinius remarked. "Yet even that was barely enough, a week ago. The ethereal was always an easier method of attack. Nearly half of us fell to it. I will – must – make a sterner effort against that myself."

Some other things were said, but their relevance was faint, and some of them burned too brightly to overcontemplate. They wished each other luck in their upcoming campaigns, at least. Then Horus rose to the podium, Sanguinius stepping to the side, the Council of Catachan revealing itself before him. Only the most important dignitaries, admirals and administrators and Astartes, were present; yet they still stretched deep. This had been a massive endeavor, and it had succeeded, despite numerous challenges – succeeded in yielding a foundation, albeit tinted scarlet from the blood the wars of the Council had spilled, on which the Imperium would be reformed.

Now he drove the final stake into that foundation.

"My friends," Warmaster Horus Lupercal of the Coalition said, "of late we have reinvigorated an ancient custom – the farewell 'may you stay free'. The reason is simple; we are fighting against tyranny, and so an explicitly rebellious slogan fits well. But we stand for continuity nevertheless, thus the 'stay'; we do not deny the worth of an Imperium, and we recognize that there was a time – though it seems an eternity ago – when the Emperor was not yet mad. But even then, he could make mistakes."

"One of these," Horus continued, "was the Edict of Nikaea. Psychic powers are dangerous, it is true; but shackling them weakens us in offense, and offers us no benefits in defense, for an untrained psyker is even more dangerous than a trained one. It is no secret that many among the Adeptus Astartes have been openly disobeying this edict for some time, for it was clear the day of its abolishment was soon. But we must have more than the Astartes realize their full potential. The Imperium at large, in civilian and military life, must integrate psychic powers into life as we know it – as we have only partially begun with Astropaths and Navigators. Humanity's psychic potential is, I have been assured, increasing. We must be prepared, rather than blindly denying the obvious."

"And for this reason," Lupercal concluded, "by the powers invested in me as Warmaster, I hereby repeal the Edict of Nikaea."

TO BE CONTINUED in the ninth book of the Renegades Saga, Flesh Is Weak.