After reviewing all the documents, Calgar found himself somewhat persuaded by Cawl's plan.
Yet, as a Chapter Master, caution was his second nature.
"Could you elaborate on each step of your plan?" Calgar requested. "Then grant me some time—grant the Five Hundred Worlds some time—to deliberate on the feasibility of these steps."
Cawl did not immediately respond, while Tigurius, standing nearby, wore a troubled expression.
He was aware of Cawl's intentions; the best outcome would have been Calgar's immediate trust, allowing Cawl to proceed unimpeded. Otherwise, there were elements of the plan that simply could not be spoken aloud.
The absence of war on the doorstep of the Five Hundred Worlds and the lack of invading forces allowed those in the Sanctum of Tombs to fixate solely on the sage and his proposal. Surrounded and scrutinized by all, Cawl cast a glance at his two xenos companions, then at the Living Saint, before finally settling his gaze on Calgar. Left with no choice, he began his explanation.
Disabling the stasis field, activating the sacred reliquary, and awaiting the Primarch's connection with the armor—all of these steps seemed reasonable. While the specifics had yet to be analyzed by experts, Calgar judged them to be within acceptable risk, even if complications arose.
But this was far from the entire plan.
Cawl mentioned the need for his companions to perform a minor surgical procedure on the Primarch.
"What kind of procedure?" Calgar's gaze sharpened as it shifted to the two robed figures, their appearance far from resembling proper medics. "This step can be entrusted to the apothecaries of the Chapter; they are far more qualified."
"No… This requires specialists of a different kind. Those I've brought are the best," Cawl insisted, shaking his head.
Calgar paused for a couple of seconds, suspicion flickering in his eyes. If this procedure were harmless and without risk, why was Cawl being so evasive?
After a moment's contemplation, Calgar gestured firmly. "Honored Sage, let us proceed to the Council Chambers of Macragge to continue this discussion. If your plan proves viable, we can swiftly devise a method of execution."
Tigurius glanced at Cawl, his expression grim as he subtly shook his head. He understood Calgar's intent—to remove Cawl from the Sanctum of Tombs, preventing any rash actions near the Primarch.
Cawl hesitated, calculating the odds. Any attempt at coercion would inevitably lead to bloodshed. Even a single injury to one of the Astartes would spark irreversible consequences. Worse still, a conflict might irreparably sever the alliance between the Five Hundred Worlds and the Mechanicum.
But the Primarch's resurrection was paramount. It was a gamble Cawl had already decided he must take.
"Alternate plan!" Cawl barked abruptly, locking eyes with the xenos.
The two figures tore away their robes, discarding the wraithbone devices that had concealed their alien forms. In an instant, they darted toward the throne.
Eldar.
No other xenos could move with such speed.
"What are you doing?" Calgar roared, fury igniting in his voice. "You dare bring xenos into this most sacred sanctum?"
Out of respect for the sage, Calgar had refrained from subjecting his entourage to the usual stringent inspections. That respect had now been met with betrayal.
"I am no mere xenos," the female Eldar declared as she reached the edge of the stasis field, unsheathing a blade that gleamed with deadly intent. "You may call me Iphrenia."
Calgar raised his bolter to eliminate her, but Tigurius interposed himself between his brothers and the Eldar, staff in hand.
"Tigurius, stop her!" Calgar's voice was a mixture of plea and command, unable to comprehend his librarian's betrayal.
Tigurius merely shook his head, a pained smile tugging at his lips.
He understood the truth: the "procedure" required for the Primarch's resurrection was none other than death itself—an essential step before the armor could revive him.
The sanctity of the sanctum was shattered as Calgar and his Honor Guard surged forward, intent on ending this sacrilege. Bolter fire erupted, battering against the shield generator Cawl activated around himself. He cast a glance at Tigurius, who gave him a subtle nod, silently urging him to proceed.
With no further hesitation, Cawl disabled the stasis field and placed the sacred reliquary before the throne.
Celestine plunged from above, intercepting Calgar and engaging him in a furious clash.
Iphrenia's companion dueled the Honor Guard, her elegant blade parrying their every strike.
Tigurius stood steadfast, wielding psychic might to repel any who dared approach the throne.
In the chaos, Iphrenia drove her blade into Guilliman's neck the moment the stasis field dissipated.
The Primarch must first die to be reborn.
As Calgar dispatched Celestine with a crushing blow, he turned his gaze toward the throne and roared in fury. "Tigurius! Stop this madness!"
The librarian, his face etched with resignation, stood his ground, shaking his head once more.
For the first time, Calgar felt the chilling grip of fear—a profound, unshakable dread.
Iphrenia's blade completed its grim task. As the reliquary unfolded, it enveloped Guilliman like the maw of a carnivorous flower, its mechanisms humming with life and exuding waves of heat.
As the veil of steam cleared, all eyes fell upon the throne.
Guilliman sat as before, but now his form radiated vitality, his massive frame exuding a force of life unlike anything seen in ten thousand years.
Every Ultramarine in the sanctum felt an overwhelming surge of elation. Their Primarch had returned, his piercing gaze sweeping over them.
One by one, the Astartes dropped to their knees, bowing in reverence to the resurrected Guilliman.