โมนิก้า ซานธิอาโก้ ปะทะ ควีน โร้ก : ศึกแห่งสาวละตินก้นใหญ่

Epilogue: The Silence of Saints

Roxy was later recovered alive — barely. Nothing could prepare a body for this. What she endures is beyond comprehension — and yet utterly human. 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. She had prepared the core, anointed it, warmed it with sacred oils to ease the passage. The pain was white, all-consuming. Verena whispered prayers as she worked — half to comfort Roxy, half to steel herself. And then the bolter fire began. In the halls of the Reclusiam, a mural was painted in her honor. “I carry the fire,” she whispered. But when Verena pressed her gloved hand to Roxy’s thigh and began the process — careful, slow, unforgiving — all pretense shattered. The Emperor’s wrath ignited anew. “I am ready to die,” she whispered, the belt falling from her mouth. The belt cut into her mouth as her jaw clenched.