Terran Crusade - Dust to Dust: Guilliman staggered to his feet, limping and wounded underneath his smouldering and blackened armour. The Webway gate rose before him, and no trace of his brother remained. Had Magnus been destroyed? Guilliman hoped so, but he did not believe it. The Harlequins' sudden plan for victory had been too convenient, the disappearance of Magnus too abrupt. The Primarch cast about for Sylandri Veilwalker, but found that she too had disappeared. A swiftly voxed question to his warriors revealed that the remainder of the Masque of the Veiled Path had vanished with her, though none could say how. If it had all been a trick, Guilliman could not fathom its intent, but for now at least, Magnus was gone.Listening to the voxed reports of his lieutenants, Guilliman realised that the battle was as good as won. Even while fighting his brother, Guilliman had kept a portion of his mind upon the wider strategic picture. It took him only moments to piece together the battle's events.Bolstered by the sudden arrival of the Adeptus Custodes and the Imperial Fists, the Terran Crusade had driven the Thousand Sons back. Tzeentchian automata lay scattered across this region of the Mare Tempestus, little more than vacant suits of ornate armour tangled amidst the wreckage. The daemons that Magnus had summoned were gone also, banished along with their master.With orbital barrages and hurtling fighter craft annihilating any Traitors who attempted to break for freedom, the last of the Sorcerers had gathered their Rubricae and their Scarab Occults, and were driving -- steady and relentless -- for the crater's edge. They had sensed the banishment of their lord, but they did not know that the Webway gate had been severed. The last of the Traitors were making a bid to escape, and Guilliman stood directly in their path.Wearily, the Primarch squared his shoulders and shrugged off his hurts. Walking with a limp, armour sparking and dented, Roboute Guilliman made for the crater's edge. His helm's Auspex showed him the route of the incoming Traitors, and the Imperial forces harassing their flanks. Though badly mauled, the Thousand Sons still had numbers, and had broken through the last, faltering ranks of Belisarius Cawl's Skitarii.Guilliman strode up the crater wall to meet them, and as he did so the mountain of corpses behind him stirred and shifted. Heaving themselves to freedom, three tenacious Sisters of Silence escaped their gruesome cairn and hasted to stand at Guilliman's side.The remaining Thousand Sons were several hundred Terran yards from the crater's edge, marching relentlessly in Guilliman's direction. They travelled in a loosely circular formation, the Rubricae facing outward in a ceramite ring and moving in eerily perfect lockstep. Loyalist forces surrounded them, squads of infantry and scorched battle tanks pouring fire into the retreating Traitors. More Rubricae fell by the moment, but with their Sorcerers safe at the heart of the formation, the Thousand Sons' momentum was hard to stop.They would come no further, resolved Guilliman. Voxing orders to every Imperial warrior, the Primarch instructed his followers to charge the Thousand Sons from every side, and all remaining vehicles to provide supporting fire, Guilliman brandished his flaming blade and swept into battle. The last of the Sisters of Silence ran at his side, their Bolters thumping.The Imperial forces closed upon the Traitors like a clenching fist. The muffled thunder of gunfire carried across the Mare Tempestus as a devastating storm of shots engulfed the Thousand Sons. At the same time, Aldrik Voldus, Cypher, Greyfax, Belisarius Cawl and Saint Celestine charged into the enemy's midst with their guns blazing and warriors at their backs.Thunder Hammers swung, connecting with tectonic force. Power Swords slid through armour like knives through silk. Sorcery transformed noble warriors to crystal statues, or collapsing heaps of mutated flesh. Through the mayhem waded Roboute Guilliman, hacking and bludgeoning his way towards the Sorcerers at the heart of the enemy formation. Enough loyal blood had been shed. Enough brave warriors had been slain, and more besides, to bring Guilliman within striking distance of the Throneworld. The losses ended now, and Ultramarines Primarch would be the one to end them.The first Sorcerer he met was backhanded from his disc, tumbling away like a ragdoll. The next two fell to lethal sword thrusts, their blood puffing out into the void slow clouds. Three more turned their powers upon the Primarch, only to find hexes faltering and hellfires flickering to nothing as the Sisters of Silence joined the fray.One Sorcerer succeeded in driving his sword through Guilliman's pauldron and drawing the Primarch's blood. Another cracked one eye lens of his helm with a desperate thrust of his stave. No other harm did the Sorcerers cause to the Lord of Ultramar, who passed through them like a storm of death and left all as drifting corpses.At last the battle was done. The final Rubricae, leaderless and without direction, were cut swiftly to pieces. The whirling storm of moon dust settled as the battle's fury abated. With his loyal warriors kneeling around him and his foes destroyed, Guilliman allowed himself to lean for a moment upon his blade, and to feel the pain of both body and soul.