The silvered halls of the Grand Pyramid thrummed with psychic energy, as was to be expected; this was the home of sorcerers, after all. Tzica was our sanctuary, the capital city of the planet Prospero, and we'd contributed greatly to its success. For our ilk, Prospero was the oasis in a galaxy of persecution. A planet of scions, scribes and sorcerers. Knowledge was power on the mystic world and we its scarlet-clad protectors: The Thousand Sons.
I felt my brethren's presence in the air around me as they moved through their daily duties; we were many, but few. Magna preferred it that way.
Magna was a daughter of the Emperor and our beloved Primarch, most importantly of all, we were hers. Magna's latent psychic abilities dwarfed her adopted sons' by millennia of study. Despite our position as both astartes and powerful psychic conduits, our Lady's sorcerous prowess commanded our fealty and admiration. The Thousand Sons were her sons, her brood, her tribe. She ruled us with an iron fist and a velvet glove; duty was its own reward.
That said, a personal invitation to hold council with Magna was...unheard of. It occurred, yes, but so seldom that few could recount a specific instance; my second-heart pumped with nervous anticipation as I turned the final corridor to her private chambers. Rarely were astartes possessed with such emotion, a sorcerer even more so.
The path before me was lit by floating globes of luminescent gas that flickered like stars in the night sky above. I passed between them, taking care not to touch the walls lest my hand become ensorcelled by some hidden mechanism.
Magna sat within her sanctum, reclining on a large divan of red velvet that mirrored the color of her rich complexion. As a Primarch, she was larger than any astartes I'd ever met. A slight wave gestured for me to approach and I did so, kneeling at her side. Her smile was slight, one eye glinting like a single amethyst in the light of her globe, the other perpetually closed; she set down a thick grimoire. "You are early."
"I am," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
"It is good that you have come. There are things we must discuss." Her smile broadened and she placed a delicate hand upon my shoulder. Even the faintest brush of her fingers against my plated shoulder nearly melted my psychic defenses; I struggled to keep focus. "I wished to speak with you, alone, while time favors us."
"Of course, Magna," I replied, swallowing nervously.
Her smile faded slightly and she took her hand from my shoulder. "Sit, please."
I obeyed, sinking into a low stool. She gestured to another one opposite me and I took it, sitting up straight.
"How are your studies progressing?" she asked, crossing her legs and leaning back, hands rested on her lap.
"I am making progress, Lady Magna," I answered meekly; the matriarch made me feel like a child giving a report.
"Good." She nodded, smiling. "Your brother has spoken highly of you."
"He does, Lady Magna?"
"Yes, Ahriman is the reason we are meeting now, and you know that his praises are - hard to come by." She laughed and her eyes flashed with amusement. "But he speaks well of you nonetheless."
We sorcerers frequently spoke in round-a-bout, a verbal dance of minds in which one almost always assumed the lead. Magna had obviously taken the lead, my Mistress of the Arcane. With every exchange of our verbal tit-for-tat, I found myself falling further behind. I wanted to ask about the nature of the meeting, but instead I contented myself with a simple, "Thank you, Lady Magna."
"We are an open legion, yes?" Magna postured upright, a silken robe clinging to her perfect form, "Well, as open as a fraternity of sorcerers can be. May I speak openly, Khalriel?"
"This is your world, my Lady; of course."
"Please desist with the honorifics, speak plainly; I am only 'Magna' at this moment. Now, are you lonely?"
The question was direct and I felt an immediate desire to confess, even though I knew full well that such candor would put me in a precarious situation; these were uncharted waters.
A quick response, "I have been, Magna. For many, many years."
"A long time," she agreed softly. "There are few others who know of the depth of that loneliness. Few more so than yourself. And it has continued to grow deeper with each passing year, hasn't it? Each day feels longer and colder..." Her words trailed off and I felt her emotions touch mine. Our connection was not telepathic, as some of our brethren might call ours, but something much older, far more primal. The link was nearly palpable, and I found myself leaning towards her in order to experience the sensation.
"It does. There is nothing like being alone." My voice lowered with the confession, as if to share a private secret with her.
She nodded slowly, still smiling; she could read me like an open book.
"Then I will hold no secrets with you, my beloved child," she replied warmly, placing a hand on my knee and then stroking my plate-clad thigh tenderly. "And I can tell that you feel the same way; let us liberate ourselves of this dreaded loneliness."