The heretics believed she was a captured missionary — a discarded Sister cast off by the Ecclesiarchy. She simply rolled onto her side and wept — not from shame, but from the knowledge that her body was no longer hers. Roxy lay still, drenched in sweat, her face contorted in silent pain. “Make it worth it,” she whispered. She endured, because there was no choice. Her journey is one of devotion beyond pride, of suffering beyond honor. ***
They stood in the reclusiam vault, far below the main decks of the Lux Invicta. Vents hissed. Roxy sobbed around the belt. She dropped to her knees, wincing at the shift in weight inside her. But he looked up as she entered. After endless minutes, the pressure shifted. Each movement brought fresh waves of agony. His chest was a ruin of ceramite and scar tissue. “Bite. Caelen, grim and silent, began the extraction. Lights flickered. Spat on her. A member of the Adepta Sororitas, Roxy once stood tall in power armor, her voice rising in hymn as bolter fire thundered in righteous fury. “Bite. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. The capsule slid in by degrees. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. Caelen stood over her, full height restored.
