黑暗之王焚烧无限的时间线,很稳的多元 Poor Vulkan’s efforts have bought me a little more of now. And in that now, I begin to see all the other nows too. I can see that the stakes have changed. There is a new factor, a new now that was before merely an if. The now of Horus triumphant, the now of Lupercal as transcendent owner of the night, is cracking and distorting, fusing and bubbling, no longer a certainty. It is caught in the light of a brighter filament of the isochronous totality: a blinding light, white, lethal and pure, cast by a single rising star, a fierce andsteadfast thing that is too furious to behold directly. It is the star I saw before, as my sight failed and death came for me. It is the Emperor, empowered by the warp, the brightest thing in the galaxy. His light is everywhere. It spills across all other nows. It bleaches the pulped battlescapes of Terra into whiteness. It catches the lines of Valdor’s wargear, and glints on the harder edges of his too-transformed thoughts. It slowly eats away the shadow under the red wall where Dorn shelters, talking to himself. It burns the soul of Sanguinius, though he is buried deep in a lightless crypt. It is the light that casts the shadow of the Dark King.I try to speak. I still cannot. The steadfast light is everywhere, permeating every now that was and could be. In one, ancient, inhuman creatures pause in their work, look up from half-built devices of intricate complexity, and shield their eyes against the rising glare. They start to wail. In another, the world is without form, and void, and darkness moves upon the face of the deep, and the steadfast light says let me be, and it is. In another, and another, and an infinity of others, there is only light, and its anthesis has burned everything away with its unholy intensity.