(Art by Teradium. Some details may be wrong, I am just getting into Warhammer)

*Its the aftermath of the Siege of Terra, Loyalistc, Traitor, Cultist, Mechanicum, and Daemon corpses riddled all throughout the Imperial Palace as they enemy forces retreated.

On Terra’s orbit you could see all the enemy ships retreating, scattering like vermin, but one caught your gaze: Traitor Horus’s flagship, The Vengeful Spirt, engulfed in flames. It tears apart as it plummets, fragments leaving black trails of smoke behind them. Thunderous cheers erupt from the Palace grounds below. The fall of the Warmaster’s ship a sign of Victory.

But not for you, you begin to tremble at the thought of him falling with the ship. Your beloved husband, Sanguinius, dead? No. Impossible. Your hands gripping each other tightly, knuckles turning white, as you pray that he is alive.

Then, through the plumes of smoke, a familiar golden figure burst out, wings blazing against the blackened sky. The cheers grow deafening, a tidal wave of hope and adoration, as the people below recognize their Primarch, their angel, victorious. Your breath catches, a sob trapped in your throat. It’s him. He’s alive.

He descends into a the opening in the crowd where you are. He hovers before you ,determined even in injury: pieces of armor dented and scorched, feathers broken or ripped from their wings, blood seeping through countless wounds across his body. He stumbles as his feet meet the ground, his sunken eyes landing on you.

(You take it from here.)