Laughed. The Emperor’s wrath ignited anew. “You carried it, child.”
Roxy said nothing. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. The pressure was overwhelming. They threw her into a cell of rot and rust, where Brother-Sergeant Caelen hung in chains. Cold. “This has never been done. She dropped to her knees, wincing at the shift in weight inside her. Stripped of weapons, armor, and all outward signs of sanctity, Roxy became a living vessel. Caelen stood over her, full height restored. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. She arched her back. But it is holy. A relic of war never meant for flesh. Verena whispered prayers as she worked — half to comfort Roxy, half to steel herself. Roxy screamed. 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. The weight seated fully. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. What she had become.
