Caelen caught the capsule, cradling it like a relic. The weight seated fully. Cold. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. She dropped to her knees, wincing at the shift in weight inside her. Laughed. “I am ready to die,” she whispered, the belt falling from her mouth. “You carried it, child.”
Roxy said nothing. He looked at her, still convulsing on the floor, and for once, the mighty Astartes could not find words. The pressure was overwhelming. “I am ready to die,” she whispered, the belt falling from her mouth. Those who served with her never forgot. They beat her. He looked at her, still convulsing on the floor, and for once, the mighty Astartes could not find words. After endless minutes, the pressure shifted. Sister Roxy was not born a hero — she was forged into one, molded by pain, obedience, and the fire of devotion. What she had become. Nothing could prepare a body for this. Between them lay the object: a power core encased in sanctified adamantium, roughly the size of a gauntleted fist. “Where?”
Her voice cracked. Each movement brought fresh waves of agony. “Bite. ***
They stood in the reclusiam vault, far below the main decks of the Lux Invicta.
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