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Time means little to an astral, but in the depths of this skyless place, Lucilius is left wondering how much of it has gone. Whether it has been an eternity or only mere seconds, all Lucilius knows is that their ecstasy has already faded.
Though they step forward, their senses are dull, as if their body is made entirely of sludge, and it hardly feels as if Lucilius is walking at all. They are an apparition, a formless being with only the vaguest sense of what their body is, drifting along an unknown plane. But their consciousness is sharp enough to recognize that they are being led somewhere, pulled by a string they know not the origin of. Distaste at being strung along against their will fills them, only for electricity to cackle along where their veins would be as they draw closer to a peculiar obstruction, one covered in a mass of black vines.
The vines slither away as Lucilius draws closer, eventually revealing an obsidian throne occupied by a single being. Its occupant sits with his back straight against the throne, his head lolled to the side, eyes shut. His chest, bare along with the rest of his body, rises and falls steadily.
Even without his six illustrious wings, there is no mistaking who it is before them.
"Lucifer." A hand materializes in front of Lucilius as they reach forth to their greatest creation. What slumber has befallen Lucifer is a great one, for he does not so much as stir at the sound of his name, a far cry from his dutiful and attentive self. "Lucifer." The rest of their body solidifies as they settle on Lucifer's lap, both hands now grasping at his face.
While Lucifer does not wake, his skin thrums with an abnormal warmth. Lucilius's hands travel down to Lucifer's chest, their palms ablaze from where they rest on Lucifer's abdomen. Lucilius closes their eyes, heat seeping into their very form with each breath.
Then, without so much as a sound, Lucilius drives their fingers deep into Lucifer's sides.
Gold drips down Lucilius's nails, yet as Lucilius tears through Lucifer's skin, dark ichor bubbles up against the pale complexion of the Supreme Primarch, as if trying to seal his skin back shut again. They lead the black trail upwards, their right hand eventually joining the left as they create a wide gash at the center of Lucifer's chest. Lucifer stiffens, but in contrast Lucilius practically feels their body melt as they scoop inwards, mind and body abuzz. Though something flickers at the back of their mind that they are being compelled, that their will is not entirely their own, the unevenness in Lucifer's breath and the heat that pools in their arms are their own siren song.
It does not take long for Lucilius to find what they seek, the source of the string that's been dragging them about. Tucked away between Lucifer's ribs is a singular round orb, its surface unblemished by the gold and black that surrounds it. Lucilius's eyes are hooded as they grasp at Lucifer's core.
My friend.
Lucilius shudders ever so slightly as they caress his core, the ghost of Lucifer's voice floating along the back of their mind as they nestle their head in the crook of Lucifer's neck. More than his wings, this is what ultimately defines Lucifer, his very essence etched into its sublime brilliance, in the very warmth that permeates Lucilius's body, a flame so deceivingly gentle yet threatens to overwhelm them. Lucilius rolls their hips, their fingers sinking into Lucifer's depths, cradling his core as they claw it out of his chest.
Under normal circumstances, there is hardly any reason for such an extraction, but this is anything but normal- Lucilius allows themself this moment of bliss. They run their tongue along the core, permitting the sickly sweet taste to tantalize their tongue as they part their lips to engulf Lucifer's core whole. In an instant, Lucilius's body is engulfed in flames, a bright blue that blazes in the dark.
The external meeting the internal, the fusion that should have never come to be. Lucilius rises, body elongating, hand reaching for the golden member that grows along with them.
Lucifer's mouth opens- a clear invitation, one that they so readily accept. In this darkened cavern, ruled not by reason but simply by instinct, Lucilius gives themselves in, mind alight with the walls that restrict him, of the dampness that dares restrict the rising heat that fills them. They drive themselves forward, falling further and further into Lucifer until it is hard to tell one from the other. Lucifer's throat bulge, the outline of a jagged black line a crown around his neck.
A hiss, a sharp intake of breath as Lucilius's essence spills forth, the darkened band busting at the seams until it is pried open. At that very moment, Lucifer's head glows an unnatural gold until becomes naught but mere particles, and it is then when Lucilius's body drips into Lucifer's own do they realize that something is off.
When their eyes blink open, their gaze met with a crimson sky. They rise out of the altar, and it is then that Lucilius finally realizes what has happened, what that nagging sense in the back of their mind was, of how their head is now the crown of the one that should have never been dethroned.
In a life that ended with ecstasy, their rebirth can only be with disappointment. The golden sword that forms at their hand is but proof of their renewed goal, of the fury that will bring about the world's end.