Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Three (section)

==1-017-001-M42==
Titan, Base of the Grey Knights. 

Lord Kaldor Draigo stared at the tiny brass key in his armored palm. The air in the Tomb of the Sigillite was damp, stagnant, and dark. The responsibility entrusted to the Grey Knights ensured that their sacrifices would probably never be known to the public at large, and even the Inquisition itself viewed the Knights with a measure of quiet respect. Among their victories were the scouring of entire star systems clean of demonic filth, spearheading exploratory fleets to areas where Chaos-worshipping xenos dwelled, and even shepherding Librarians of penitent Chapters of the Space Marines, such as the Lamenters. 

But those were things of the past. Those were achievements they used to be proud of, services they could admire. Those times were over. 

Now, the Emperor had merged with a daemon. And there was one final task to be done. 

Draigo sighed and closed his hand around the key, then took the last few steps forward to the back of the statue of Malcador, founder of the Grey Knights. After staring at the lifeless, stone eyes of the statue, he walked past it and placed the key in the unnoticeable hole beyond it. A section of the wall creaked forward, revealing a small, iron table set into the wall. On the table was a box with a strange seal set into the lid, one that Draigo had never seen before in person. The box was set with a tiny clasp, which Draigo lifted, his heart pounding. He reached to lift the lid, then froze. What if he was wrong? What if the High Lords were truthful? 

But…no. The High Lords had to have been lying. There was no way that even the Emperor could have consumed a Greater Khornate Daemon and emerged unscathed. Even noble Sanguinius had merely slain Ka’Bhanda, rather than trying to consume his power. This had to be done. 

With a final breath of resentment at the universe for going so completely wrong, Draigo lifted the lid of the Terminus Decree and gazed inside. 

The box was empty. 

For several seconds, Draigo just stared, feeling his jaw slowly drop. How could this be? Not since Malcador the Sigillite had ordered the box be placed there immediately before ascending the Golden Throne had the room been opened! What foul trickery was this? 

Kaldor felt his astonishment turn to rage. His hands shook, even through his Terminator armor. He replaced the lid of the box, his eyes clouding with anger. Whomever was responsible for this would burn in hell. 

Just as he spun to the exit, where his retinue waited, however, a rattling noise caught his ears. He turned back to the box on its iron table, and saw that the lid had been replaced backwards. He turned to fix it, and the seal of the Golden Throne popped off of the lid. Draigo started, and saw to his astonishment that the seal was not inlaid in the wood, but detachable, a small plug connected it to the thin layer of wood of the lid itself. A tiny piece of paper popped out of the plug, and fell down into the box itself. 

His anger sated, Draigo picked up the paper, and unfurled it gingerly. In High Gothic, twelve words were printed. 

“Await the Emperor before the Throne. He knows you are coming. Malcador.” 

Beneath the box, a beacon blinked once, unseen.