Dust drifted through the shattered streets, turning the morning sun into pale streaks of light that bled through the haze. Private Tomas Grell sat with his back against a mound of shattered stone. For the first time in fifteen hours, he let himself breathe. Fifteen hours of nonstop shooting, stabbing, reloading, shooting while stabbing, and vicious close-quarter fighting were behind him. The scrape of a stone bouncing across the ruined street made him snap his lasgun to his shoulder. Only when the figure emerged from the dust did Tomas recognise Private Lucien Vale.

‘We’re alive,’ Lucien chuckled, his voice coarse and rough, ‘we made it through, the Emperor protects!’ 

Lucien was a short man; his head barely reached Tomas’ shoulders, but somehow, Lucien filled out his armour better than Tomas ever did. Tomas glanced at his own bony forearm. There was nary any meat on his bones. Wherever Lucien had grown up, the rations were clearly better. 

Together, the two had seen the green tide break against the bastion of humanity’s defensive lines and survived long enough to see the greenskins driven from the field. ‘The Emperor protects,’ Tomas chuckled back, his voice raspy, and a cough followed shortly behind the words.

‘There’s a rumour going down the line,’ Lucien whispered as he pulled out a pair of Lho sticks, put one in his mouth, and offered the other to Tomas, who accepted between two fingers. With a quick flick of the lighter and an inhale, Lucien pulled his shaking hand from his mouth and exhaled as he slid down the rubble to sit next to Tomas. 

Tomas took a drag. The knot in his stomach finally began to unwind. Lucien’s eyes quickly shifted over as a grin spread across his face.

‘Angels.’

‘The Emperor’s Angels?’ Tomas questioned quickly. ‘Here? Now?’

‘Aye, Holt down the line said he saw them cleave a big ork boss in half like he was a mere log underneath an axe!’

‘Fighting beside us?’

‘Aye, ‘twas what Holt told Hask, Hask told Rowan, Rowan told Donahue, and Donahue swore it enough times that I started believing it.’

Tomas’ eyes went wide. Part of him already knew it was just a rumour passed from trench to trench that had grown out of control with each retelling before it finally landed on his ears. Tomas desperately wished it were true. For if the Emperor’s Angels had flown to this battle, then the day was truly saved. 

‘Did they say what they looked like?’ Tomas leaned his helmeted head back against the wall and peered through the fog that blanketed the blood-soaked field for any sign of the Emperor’s Angels. He took another hefty drag. One more drag was all it would take for Tomas to relax.

‘Aye, they did, they said they were nary an inch over nine feet tall, but their arms and legs were as thick as trunks. Their armour was painted blood-red.’

‘Red? Which chapter is that?’ Tomas glanced back at his friend, closing one eye as he did.

‘Donahue reckoned they might be Blood Drinkers… or Blood Angels. Lots of chapters’ve got Blood in the name, now I think about it.’

‘Don’t reckon I’ve ever ‘eard of them.’ 

‘Me neither, think they follow…’ Tomas felt the ground shake, and he shifted his focus from the conversation to the road ahead. He expected to see the same broken sight, but instead he saw something that stole the breath right out of his lungs. 

The deep crimson armour emerged from the dust first. Tomas’ gaze climbed the giant figures before him and found their pauldrons coloured like bone, with one bearing a black raven sigil and the other a key. The Space Marines strode towards the command post, with bolt pistols holstered at their hips and power swords wielded in their hands. Each step encouraged the pebbles ahead of them to perform a waltz.

‘-and you know what they say about the angels, yeah?’ Lucien still rambled on, blissfully unaware that the Emperor’s Angels had arrived. Tomas snapped his head towards his friend, then back again, before he dropped to one knee and forced his eyes to remain on the ground before him.

‘Blessed are the few who witness His angels, blessed are those who fight beneath their shadow,’ Lucien finished with a smile before he noticed Tomas kneeling and finally felt the approaching miracle himself. Lucien quickly dropped to a knee and began to mutter a prayer that Tomas neither heard nor understood.

The thunderous crunch of heavy boots fracturing the stone of the street grew closer, and closer, and Tomas dared not move even as the smoke from his Lho forced tears from his eyes. The booming steps slowed as they passed the two guardsmen. Against his better judgment, Tomas dared to look up. Then, one of the Space Marines looked towards him.

‘Blessed are the few who witness His angels, blessed are those who fight beneath their shadow,’ Tomas muttered. He watched as the Space Marine’s helmet tilted forward a fraction of an inch. Acknowledged by an Emperor’s Angel? No one back home would ever believe him.

As they passed, Tomas went to inhale the sweet relief of his Lho stick; however, he only sucked in air. Tomas reached for his mouth, and the only relief he’d found during this hell was gone. Tomas glanced at Lucien and saw that his Lho stick was missing as well.

Lucien turned his head back towards Tomas. ‘Did… did they just nick our Lho sticks?’

Tomas turned back to face the Astartes and saw two twisting trails of smoke rising in the air above the lead Astartes’ gauntlet.

They weren’t even smoking them.