Wreathed in warpfire and imbued with boundless empyric energy, the Thousand Sons are the favoured mortal servants of Tzeentch, the Weaver of Destinies. What soul remains in these Heretic Astartes is consumed by a desire to see the Imperium burn. An aura of maddening flux radiates from the psychic core of the Traitor Legion, twisting hope into despair. As their warp presence flares ever brighter, time shifts unnaturally, stretching seconds into seeming eternities and crushing seconds into fleeting moments.The only anchors to reality that remain are the racing heartbeats of the fearful and the incessant pounding of Rubric Marines advancing in perfect unison. Whole swathes of realspace are left burning in the Thousand Sons’ wake, yet each battle is but a single step in a larger plan, a lone ripple in the corrupted stream of fate.