cut yo

“Only one way to find out,’ said Horus, unsnapping the seals across his breastplate. ‘Take that reaper of yours and cut me.’
‘Cut you?’
Horus shed his armour, letting each plate fall to the ground until he stood clad only in a grey bodysuit.
‘I was told this gate can only open in blood,’ said Horus. ‘So cut me and don’t spare the edge.’
‘Sir,’ said Kibre coming forward. ‘Don’t. Let one of us do it. Spill my blood, use as much as it takes, even if it kills me.’
Little Horus and Ezekyle joined their voices in opposition to his desire for Mortarion to cut him deep.
Horus folded his arms and said, ‘Thank you, my sons, but if I’ve learned anything from Lorgar, it’s that somebody else’s blood won’t do for something like this. It has to be mine.’
‘Then let’s get this done,’ said Mortarion, hefting Silence and readying its blade. Where some of Horus’s brothers might balk at the thought of wounding him, Mortarion had no such qualms. If his brother sought to usurp him, this was his chance.
Horus locked his gaze with his brother.
‘Do it.’
Mortarion spun Silence around his body.
The blade flashed.
Horus howled as the Death Lord’s reaper cut him from clavicle to pelvis. The pain was ferocious. Its savagery took him all the way back to Davin’s moon, and Eugan Temba’s stolen blade.
Blood jetted from the wound and sprayed the black wall.
Through eyes wet with pain, Horus saw unfinished sigils and arrangements of arcane significance. Their brightness was dying, washed away by the tide of his blood.”

The Vengeful Spirit