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There are few things in this world as brilliant as a father's love for his son. It shines down upon the son, basking him in warmth and illuminating his path. But what if that son were exceptional, and the father yet more brilliant? I suppose such a love could fill the air with golden light, filling the son with such vibrant energy that he could do the impossible. Do you know what they say about the brightest lights? They also cast the darkest shadows. The son may bask in the father's light, but in doing so relegate his brother to the coldness of the shadows. It is a tale as old as time itself. Two brothers, both brilliant in their own way. One warmed by the father's golden light, a sparkling sapphire in his father's eye. The other cast aside, a cold grey rock shivering in the darkness. What choice does such a son have but to drag his brother down into the shadows with him? The tale did not begin on Calth, but it is where my journey started. The day the Astartes brought destruction and vengeance to my beautiful home. Two brothers - one wreathing a world in flame and light long denied to him, the other desperately holding back a shadow which he never understood. For that is the truth of it - only a father's love can provoke such hate.