The alarms began to scream across the compound. Roxy volunteered without hesitation. Those who served with her never forgot. As long as the core reaches him.”
Verena offered her a leather belt — a strip of old, cracked ecclesiarch hide. But it is holy. The pain was white, all-consuming. It was done. It was done. Roxy screamed. Her will flickered — but never failed. The belt muffled it only slightly as the edges of the capsule stretched her farther than she thought possible. Roxy lay still, drenched in sweat, her face contorted in silent pain. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. They beat her. Nothing could prepare a body for this. Not metaphorically, but literally — enduring unbearable physical and spiritual pain to smuggle salvation through her own flesh. The pain was white, all-consuming. Stripped of weapons, armor, and all outward signs of sanctity, Roxy became a living vessel. No tools. With no secure means of delivery, a vital power core was to be transported in the most covert and unthinkable way: hidden within the body of an unarmed Sister. What she had become. Laughed. With no secure means of delivery, a vital power core was to be transported in the most covert and unthinkable way: hidden within the body of an unarmed Sister.
