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Crucible of the Lily	By : SinfulWolf Category: +S through Z > Warhammer 40,000 Views: 4726 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000, and the characters within are property of Games Workshop. I do not own it, nor have any affiliation with it. I make no money from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Author's Note: Lyniah's litany is from the song "Adepta Sororitas" by youtuber StringStorm. Lyrics written by Ethan Song, vocals performed by Joliet Shuff.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWutrVCkbpA
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The office of Cannoness Praxea was an oddity to Cornelius. It was spacious, and lined with columns carved with cherubs, skulls, ivy, and flowers. The walls were covered with masterfully crafted frescoes displaying saints of the Whispered Lily in battle or healing the sick and injured. Golden incense burners hung from the ceiling, soft smoke flowing from each, while tapestries filled with scripture fluttered from the crossbeams. Even her desk was a solid piece of carved wood, with a holographic display, as well as parchment and quill nestled nearby. Behind the desk, a great stained glass window looked out over the courtyard of the preceptory.

To contrast with this extravagance, there was nothing that was truly Praxea’s. Everything was for the office, and did not truly belong to her. Everything here spoke to the wealth of the order, and the power the cannoness held, but said nothing else of her.

The woman herself stood behind her desk, the fingers of a prosthetic hand drumming upon the wooden surface. Her cold gaze pinned Cornelius, but he refused to be cowed by her. Behind him, Seth squirmed. The man did not like confrontation. Zaber stood at Seth’s side and silently judged the Cannoness for her lack of mechanisms in this room.

“A dangerous game you play Lord Inquisitor. A sister outside my order makes claims that I struggle to even entertain, and you bring it immediately to my door despite her own hesitation. A dangerous game indeed... but not to you. To us. Do all Inquisitors seek to sow distrust among the servants of the Emperor? Or is it just you?” Praxea said, and Cornelius flexed his fingers, folded gently in the small of his back. He gave the woman a soft shrug.

“Many say corruption among the Sororitas is impossible. I do not deal in rhetoric Cannoness, I deal in truth. And the truth is, you are still human. Superior that may make you, we are still fallible,” Cornelius said, and Praxea kept a cold expression. Her fingers continued to drum, so with a shake of his head Cornelius continued. “I tell you this as a courtesy, and respect for your position. I do however intend to investigate House Ismail, and Sister Olea.”

“So you mentioned. There is more you want. Might I guess? A retinue?” Praxea said, and Cornelius bowed his head.

“Correct. It is a grand allegiance between the Inquisitorial orders and the Adepta Sororitas, that many Sisters come to aid us on these hunts. I believe there are some in your own halls. I merely wish to continue our co-operation.”

At that Praxea let out a humourless laugh, the sound making her face twist into something like a scowl.

“More likely a way to gauge my own guilt through my willingness. I have told you already Inquisitor that the storm is coming. Hours by now. And I need my sisters militant prepared,” she stood a moment, almost physically chewing on a thought. “But I will give you a squad... in the name of co-operation.”

“Believe what you will, but I would like to leave presently. So, if you would kindly get that escort for me now,” Cornelius said, unmoving.

“You will still have to wait, Lord Inquisitor. They will need to arm and armour themselves,” Praxea said as she stepped around the desk. She didn’t even glance at Seth or Zaber as she passed them both and strolled towards the door of her office. “So, let’s go and get you, a squad.”

The cannoness opened the door, and stopped. She looked back, gesturing for Cornelius to leave. The corner of his lip quirked upwards before he gestured to the other two to follow him. Stepping out into the hallway, Cornelius took a look around. He was surprised to see a sister not far down the hall knelt before one of the many statues of a saint in this place. The woman’s lips were moving in silent prayer, but she paid no attention to those emerging from the Cannoness’s office.

Praxea closed the door behind herself, and glared at Cornelius, before she noticed the prayer sister.

“Sister Superior Kylina,” Praxea called and the woman looked up. Cornelius studied her, recognizing the name. Yes, she was the one who had escorted the most interesting Lyniah upon their arrival. Interesting that she was also one of the very few Sisters he had seen who dyed her hair white.

“Cannonness. How may I serve?” Kylina asked, getting to her feet, before pressing the sign of the aquila to her chest and bowing.

“Inquisitor Cornelius here needs an escort to continue his investigation. Is your squad ready?” Praxea asked, and Kylina’s eyes flicked over to him. Cornelius matched the look before it returned to her cannoness.

“They can be within moments. Where are we heading?” she asked the question directly to Cornelius. He raised an eyebrow at her casual speak with him.

“To House Ismail. There are questions that must be asked of Sister Olea, as well as the Governor and his wife,” Cornelius said, and Kylina frowned.

“You suspect treason among the Sororitas? Such a thing is impossible. Such a thing is heresy,” Kylina said, squaring off with Cornelius, hands falling to her sides and curling into fists.

“He also suspects us of complacency, or perhaps complicetness with heretics,” Praxea said, and Kylina’s eyes widened; full of rage. Seth took a step back, and Zaber curled their hand around their Omnisian axe. Cornelius made no move, silently daring Kylina to act.

“Heresy,” she hissed instead.

“Sister Superior. Your orders are to escort the Inquisitor as part of his retinue. You will aid him in getting the evidence he needs, and to prevent him from harassing the Adepta Sororitas more than he already has. If you find evidence that he is underminding our order... kill him,” Praxea said, and Cornelius blinked. He turned to face the Cannoness, only to find her cold stare piercing him. “I have seen reports of many Inquisitors falling to the very thing they hunt. I have yet to see anything of a Sister of the Adepta Sororitas falling to Chaos. Your superiors can have your head back in a box as a reminder that you are mere mortals. The Emperor guides us, not you.”

With those final words Praxea turned on her heel and strode back to her office. Seth muttered something under his breath, but Zaber continued to stand as they were, holding their axe firmly. Cornelius forced out a small laugh and looked back at the rage filled features of Sister Superior Kylina.

“We will be departing presently. Please, go get your squad ready. We shall depart from the cathedral,” he said, and Kylina let out a low growl of annoyance. But she quickly departed, and Cornelius let out a low breath when he was alone with his retinue.

“Your gamble has not paid off,” Zaber said, their voice emotionless as always, filtered through more machine than flesh.

“By the Throne sir. You are going to get us killed,” Seth said, clutching at his head and wide eyed. Cornelius patted the air.

“Calm down. The day’s not yet over. I did not expect Cannoness Praxea to be pleased, nor did I expect threats of violence. But we still have an ally in Sister Vivienne. I doubt she will allow Praxea’s threats to simply go through,” Cornelius said, and Seth nodded. Zaber remained passive. “Good. Now, let’s go meet our escorts.”

~***~

For the second time that day, Sarea shot awake. Covered in a cold sweat, she gasped as the swirling mists of dreams scattered to the corners of her mind. Her heart pounding, she stared at the Ecclesiarchal I upon her wall. Until fingers started to comb through her hair. Soft, gentle, they ran down and settled her frayed nerves.

“It’s okay,” Lyniah whispered, and Sarea found herself melting into her lover’s arms. For a few long moments, the two laid there on the tiny bed, while Sarea tried to sort through the images of her dream.

Like this morning, it had been filled with pestilence and rot. Screams that sounded through a sickly green city, while decaying arms had reached for her from crumbling roads that ran with tainted blood. But in its centre, brilliant flowers bloomed at the bare feet of a woman. Her hair flowed like water around her shoulders, and she had stared out from between rusted bars and whispered. Her words were alien, much like her pointed ears and the sharp angles of her features. She was Eldar. Was she Isha?

Runes had floated around her, glowing with a soft blue light, but Sarea could not understand them.

Then she’d awoken, and now lay in Lyniah’s arms. She closed her eyes, savouring the slow stroke of fingers in her hair.

“What was the dream?” Lyniah asked, and Sarea stiffened. She tried to think of what she could say that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Once, she would have trusted Lyniah with what she’d dreamt. But five years away with the Repentia, Sarea wasn’t entirely sure about the woman who’d returned. The Repentia was a place of zealots among zealots. “You fear them. More, you fear what I’ll think of them.”

“Just nightmares,” Sarea said, and Lyniah shook her head.

“The storm is almost upon us. Through its rift, the voices of chaos will whisper and tempt. None of us are immune, my love. Not you, nor I,” Lyniah said, and sighed softly. She leaned down to kiss the top of Sarea’s head. “But the Emperor protects, so long as we trust in him.”

“The Emperor protects,” Sarea repeated softly. She chewed on the words even after they’d left her mouth, before she reluctantly got up to find her clothes.

Lyniah let her get up, and sat there a moment, watching, but not seeing; she seemed lost in thought. Eventually she rose as well, finding her discarded robes and concealing herself.

“I should return to my own dormitory. The squad will be waking soon and preparing,” Lyniah said, and Sarea nodded.

“You should. We each have our part to play. Find me after?” Sarea asked, and Lyniah smiled. It wasn’t full of its usual warmth however, and it made Sarea sad that she couldn’t open herself to the one woman she should trust above all others. Lyniah paused at the door, and gently held the frame. Her fingers drummed a moment, before she looked back over her shoulder.

“Of course. The Emperor provides... and you are his greatest gift to me. I would never discard such a thing. But I know you, my love. I know no matter what acts you would do, it is for the Emperor’s light,” Lyniah said and the door opened. She took a step outside.

“Wait,” Sarea said, taking a step forward with hand outstretched. Lyniah paused, and turned. Sarea let out a low breath. “I see visions. Of a Xenos. I think... I think it may be one of their Gods.”

At the confession, Lyniah looked around, but saw nobody. She stepped back into the room and closed the door behind her.

“I understand your hesitation. Thank you, for trusting me again,” she said, then ran her fingers across her mouth as she pondered. “What Xenos?”

So Sarea explained it all. The dreams. The runes of Isha. The rot. And through it all, Lyniah’s face was stony. Neutral. She said nothing until Sarea had gotten it all out and sat upon the edge of the bed. After but a heartbeat, Lyniah joined her, and slid an arm around her lover’s shoulders.

“I have seen many things in my time with the Repentia. Fought alongside Space Marines of the Black Templars, and Space Wolves. Seen Inquisitors ply their trade, and even seen Eldar protect human interests. To protect their own of course but... Commanders, Generals, Astartes, Inquisitors... all have worked with these Xenos despite what our dogma teaches us. The wars are too many, that we may need allies,” Lyniah said, and pursed her lips. “I know I do not need to tell you not to trust them. But perhaps the Eldar, this time, mean to aid us.”

“They are Xenos witches. Everything they do is for their own ends, not ours,” Sarea said, and sighed. Was she just trying to convince herself now? The words she said were true, and to think otherwise was heresy.

“Yes. We cannot trust them. But sometimes, those ends match our own,” Lyniah said and pulled her lover closer. Sarea took comfort in the militant’s body as she laid her head on Lyniah’s shoulder. “I also shouldn’t have to tell you, beware who you confide this in.”

Sarea nodded, and calmed more when she felt the press of lips against the top of her head.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and closed her eyes to savour the closeness, even for just a few heartbeats more.

She reluctantly allowed Lyniah to push her back up, the battle sister getting to her feet once more. Lyniah moved to the door and opened it.

“I must return to the sisters of my squad. They’ll be preparing soon. You should be doing the same,” Lyniah said, and Sarea silently nodded, staring at the floor beneath Lyniah’s feet. “We will find the answers to this mystery together.”

With those last words, Lyniah stepped out. Sarea stayed upon her bed, staring now at the closed door. Slowly her brows creased into a frown as she pondered over the conversation. Of Lyniah’s return from the Repentia, of the Inquisitor’s arrival. All just before this damned storm. And despite all that she’d been through, Lyniah was still willing to listen. Was that right? Had the thoughts that got her trouble worsened in her time away?

Sarea did not like the worm of doubt that squirmed through her mind, but it was there already. She sighed, got to her feet, and stepped out into the common area of the dorm. It was time to find the novices and prepare for what was to come.

~***~

The shadows curled around Belmae, hiding her from sight as she sat on the edge of some Mon-Keigh structure, beside statues dedicated to whom they considered to be grand heroes. Above, the storm roared its anger as it got ever closer. Its tendrils were pushing into the atmosphere now. Belmae though, was staring at the Spirit Stone she had taken from that noblewoman. The chain of the necklace was wrapped around her hand, as the silver clasped stone swayed just before her eyes.

She had come here to recover such things, based on a Farseer’s words that a high ranking Mon-Keigh cultist to She Who Thirsts held many such stones. She had been sent alone, as the Farseer had said her presence would tip the scales in the favour of Craftworld Iybraesil. How, she had not been told. Only that the women of Lilies would be the heralds of a great victory.

Whoever this cultist was, she had more Spirit Stones than Belmae had believed. Unless she had killed the one she’d been sent after. But nothing else the Farseer had said made sense yet, so Belmae had to trust that her mission was not yet complete.

But how many more stones awaited her?

With an annoyed grunt, Belmae gathered the necklace in her fist and carefully put it away as she looked off her perch at the great palace across the extravagant plaza of concrete and marble slabs, a broad double headed eagle sigil painted in its centre. Large statues of hooded figures with large swords curled around the far side of the plaza, their backs to the palace.

The palace of one House Ismail. The governing nobility of this planet, from everything Belmae had learned eavesdropping and poking through Mon-Keigh documentation. She had left a few corpses in her wake, and doubtlessly word had already gotten to the nobles of the city.

Strangely though, the streets seemed calm. There were no search teams looking for her, and no one seemed panicked by the looming storm encroaching upon them. So much seemed wrong to Belmae, and she longed to depart this world.

Pulling Void Dawn closer to herself, she cradled the long rifle as one foot idly kicked over the edge of the ledge she was perched upon. Her eyes continued to watch the palace, while she pondered where to enter, and where exactly she was going to go inside.

Before movement caught her attention, down in the plaza.

Shouldering her rifle, Belmae looked through the scope at the thirteen figures emerging from the cramped streets of the city proper, and up the stairs to the plaza. She studied them, but they did not seem like cultists. No, these seemed like Mon-Keigh Inquisition agents. The man leading strode with arrogance and purpose. His long dark coat flowing around his ankles as he took the stairs in measured steps. At his side, a strange one clad in long red robes, their face concealed with a metallic mask. On the other, a man in dark green robes with a staff in hand and wires buried into his shaved scalp; a human warlock.

Belmae wasn’t entirely sure. The Mon-Keigh did not respect the gifts as her people did.

Behind them though, were a group of women in black armour and purple cloth, most of them carrying the infamous bolter. The so called Sisters of Battle, though Belmae had never heard of this particular colour pattern before.

The man she guessed to be the Inquisitor, slowed slightly, and fell in step beside the woman that must have been the Sisters’ leader. She did not wear a helmet, her white hair worn in a bob. On her hip was sheathed a chainsword in a broad leather case, and on the other a bolt pistol. The two were speaking, and Belmae wished she could hear what they spoke of; it could not be a coincidence that they were heading to this palace. What was their involvement?

Halfway across the plaza, the Mon-Keigh psyker snapped his attention over. He stared directly at Belmae, as she watched him through the crosshairs of her scope. Her heart leapt, and she lowered the rifle and got to her feet.

It was time to find another way inside.

~***~

The thump of power armour boots against the concrete of the city streets brought some comfort to Cornelius as he led his procession towards the Ismail palace. Zaber had voiced their concerns about going so openly to their suspects, but Cornelius wanted the pomp and show. It always put the nobility on their back foot once they had to be worried about their reputation.

And it was the nobility he needed to focus upon. Praxea had made her stance quite clear, and without solid evidence, he would have to worry about his own allies should he push the investigation against a sister of the Adepta Sororitas any further.

It only made everything far more complicated.

As they emerged from the cramped streets and started scaling the stairs that led to the Ismail plaza, Cornelius slowed just enough to fall in step beside Kylina. The Sister Superior glanced at him, the anger still clear in her expression.

“Have you ever met this Sister Olea?” he asked of her, and her frown only deepened.

“No. I have heard her name mentioned, but I’ve never met her. We walk very different paths, but she is a Sister of the Adepta Sororitas regardless,” Kylina said.

“Do the sisters of the Famulous Order not go to prayer at the Cathedral?” Cornelius pressed.

“Occasionally. But they often came together. I would not be able to tell you Olea from any of the others that have their duties in the noble homes. Most times, I imagine they tend to their souls in the small chapels and shrines in the noble villas. Besides, I have been away for some time, in the missions,” Kylina said, and Cornelius nodded slowly.

“A shame. But fair. So I can imagine you do not know much about the Governor and his wife then?” Cornelius said.

“I am the edge of the Emperor’s blade. I am His light in the darkness. I do not have time to rub shoulders with nobles and their petty squabbles,” Kylina said, her hand moving to rest upon the hilt of her chainsword. Cornelius shook his head; his hopes of getting anything of use from the Sister dashed. Though her zeal could be turned in his favour, should things go awry inside the palace.

Ahead, Seth stopped and snapped his head to the side. Cornelius followed the Psyker’s gaze up to one of the large structures that towered around the plaza. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw movement, but as he squinted, there was nothing except shadow.

“What is it, Seth?” Cornelius asked. The sisters had all turned towards their building, levelling their bolters towards it. Seth closed his eyes, pressed fingers to his temple, and Cornelius could see a faint glow behind the man’s eyelids.

“I do not know. Something was watching us. Something... inhuman,” he said.

“Warp spawn?” Cornelius asked, and Seth clenched his eyes tighter. There were small arcs of psychic power that danced about his eyes and the tip of his staff.

“I... don’t think so. It is gone now,” Seth said, and Kylina moved up beside Cornelius.

“The storm is nearly upon us. The heretics are already moving to strike, and I would rather not be in that palace escorting you, when our foes work against us in force,” the Sister Superior said, while Cornelius watched the shadows upon the building’s side.

It didn’t seem right. Something was very off.

“I am inclined to agree. This time,” he said, and picked up the pace towards the front doors of the palace.

His retinue fell into step behind him. They quickly crossed over the great gold aquila painted on the plaza’s stones, and started to ascend a final set of stairs. Before the large doors that led inside, four guards in black Cadian styled armour, with caps instead of helmets, stood watching the retinue approach. Certainly a display of the planet’s wealth, if the guards of the nobility were so well equipped. Cornelius had seen the soldiers of the Planetary Defense Force clad in the same armour, though with green armour and olive fatigues.

One of the guards stepped forward, both hands holding his las rifle, his compatriots behind him shifted nervously on their feet. They watched the oncomers intently, but did not appear comfortable where they were.

The guard who stepped forward cleared his throat before he spoke.

“This is property of House Ismail, I must ask that you declare your intentions for this visit.”

Cornelius stopped just in front of the man, standing a head over him.

“I suggest you educate yourself in some heraldry. I am Inquisitor Cornelius Blackwin, of the Ordo Herecticus. I am on Imperial business, and I care not what you think of my entrance or my intentions. I will pass by you, and I expect to be taken to see Sister Olea,” Cornelius said, and the guard paled. He nodded vigorously, and turned to the others.

“Galen, take em’ to the Famulous,” the guard said, and one of the others nodded dumbly. Behind him, Cornelius heard Kylina grunt.

The guards seemed to scurry out of the way, save for their guide who hurriedly pushed open the doors as Cornelius and his retinue started forward once more. Inside, the vestibule was much like that of House Doragat, but there was much more extravagance on display here. Walls trimmed with gold filigree, and bright chandeliers to light the room. Plush carpeting led up a broad set of stairs, and the doors were inlaid with gold and silver.

House Ismail did not want guests to question their wealth, or their power on Nyxate.

Seth was already lost in his wonder. The sister’s seemed unimpressed with the display. Zaber simply didn’t care. Cornelius led them all after the guard Galen, up the stairs, uncaring about the plush carpet that servitors and servants would be diligently after once they were past. The guard took them upwards, to the balcony that overlooked the vestibule, and carried on to another set of doors.

Beyond was a corridor, less resplendent, but still showing fine craftsmanship. Its ceilings were high and arched, decorated with ridges and frescos. Doors lined the hallway, and Cornelius let his eyes scan over each one, curious to what lay behind them.

Until Galen stopped before one. This particular door was lined with columns marked with fleurs de lis. Cornelius grunted in amusement as Galen stood to the side.

“Sister Olea should be inside, Lord Inquisitor,” the man said with a shaky voice, and Cornelius gave him a nod as he pushed into the room.

He found himself in a spacious office of sorts, Decorated with symbols of faith, but no book shelves as he expected. Behind a desk sat a woman Cornelius guessed to be one of his suspects: Sister Olea. She was dressed in the same Sororitas decorated corset, and conical headdress as her fellow Famulous Vivienne, but her painted lips were curled in an inviting smile. When she spoke, it was in a cheerful, inviting voice.

“Lord Inquisitor Blackwin. I was wondering when you would stop by,” Olea said, her hands folded upon her desk. Cornelius raised an eyebrow, wanting to rest his hand on the pistol at his hip. The woman was just sitting there. No books, scrolls, or any other work in front of her.

“I see you’re aware of who I am,” he said, and Olea let out a soft laugh. Seth rubbed at his temple with a wince, and Cornelius glanced back at the sisters. Even they seemed on edge.

“Of course. There is not much on this planet that doesn’t happen without my awareness. Even less in the city itself. Let us not insult one another, Lord Inquisitor, we both know a pretty face and friendly words can hide very much. And as a Adepta Sororitas Famulous, well... politics are as much about cunning and deception as warfare is. Or hunting heretics,” she said, and leaned back, her hands settling in her lap.

Cornelius looked about the room, at the sisters behind him flexing gloved hands around their weapons.

“I suspected there to be more books in here,” Cornelius said, gesturing about the office, and Olea turned her head to a side door. She looked at it long enough that Cornelius followed her gaze. Another ornate door, decorated with images of the faith. When he looked back, she was staring at him. That all too friendly smile on her lips.

“That room is my archive, and I don’t take guests in there. I don’t want there to be any... misprints,” she said, her head tilting forward slightly. Cornelius reached into his coat and wrapped his fingers around the grip of his pistol. Zaber gripped their axe tighter while Seth grimaced, thumb and forefinger clenching at his head. There was an arc of psychic energy that coursed over his head.

“Do you know anything about the suspected tampering with Sister Vivienne’s documents?” Cornelius asked, and Olea raised an eyebrow. Her smile never faltered. Not a hint.

“Are you accusing me of treason, Inquisitor? Me, a Sister of the Adepta Sororitas, of heresy?” she asked, and Cornelius glanced back at Kylina. The woman’s face held no rage now. Just a stony expression, with eyes locked upon Olea.

“You are a suspect. Along with the Governor and his wife,” Cornelius said, thumbing open his holster.

“Serious charges. With political implications for the Ecclesiarchy. I do know something, and that your eyes should be on Lady Elaine... not her husband. But, to suspect me? Well, a fallen sister is quite... improbable,” Olea said, and Cornelius’s eyes widened at her choice of words. He carefully began to draw his pistol before Olea spoke again. “Isn’t that right Sister Kylina?”

Cornelius almost laughed as the muzzle of a bolt pistol pressed to the base of his skull. Every piece of information fluttered across his mind in a flash. Every conversation he’d had since he’d been here, thinking this was just some other hive world. And Praxea had even warned him.

All this condensed into a single word that slipped from his lips. A single word that went unheard as bolters roared and tore Zaber and Seth into mulch and shattered bones.

“Shit.”

The bolt pistol’s crack was lost amid the rest of the gunfire. Cornelius’s head burst in a spray of red and chunky grey.

As Seth’s and Zaber’s remains splattered upon the ground, Cornerlius’s body stood and wavered for a moment before it pitched forward. Blood gushed from the stump of his neck across Olea’s desk, before the corpse slid off and landed on the floor. The Inquisitor’s blood spread, melding with his comrades.

Kylina smirked, and ran a thumb across her jaw, pushing blood to her lips that her tongue lapped up.

Olea reached up to her cheek, and pulled a shard of bone from her flesh. A thin bead of blood ran from the small cut, but was soon lost amid the mess spattered on her face. She rose to her feet, pulling off her headdress; the splatter of Cornelius’s cranium had put out two of the candles anyway.

“I suspect you have a plan to explain their deaths,” Olea asked of the Sister Superior before her, and Kylina smirked.

“The Cannoness gave me the perfect alibi. Kill him if he threatened the Sororitas. Shame for her, he was right,” Kylina said, sucking blood from each of her fingers.

“Good. Then the secret remains... for the moment. Come, your mother will want to speak to you... and I’m sure such beautiful members of our coven will be rewarded in the heart of her abode,” Olea said, cupping Kylina’s cheek.

There were purrs, a groan, and a laugh from the fallen sisters of Kylina’s squad.

“Let’s go ladies. The Mistress, and pleasure, awaits,” Kylina said.

~***~

Standing before her now empty stand, Lyniah moved her arms, flexed her fingers to test the joints of the power armour. It was smooth, elegant, and the machine spirit within seemed pleased. One of her two novices knelt before her, offering her helmet in outstretched arms. Lyniah took it, and pulled it on. The seals hissed as they connected, and the photolenses powered up with a small hum.

For a moment the world was bathed in a violet hue, as the machine spirit connected itself. With a snap, Lyniah’s vision was clear. Tactical displays hovered at the edge of her vision as the machine spirit told her through the photolenses that everything was operational.

“The Emperor’s blade made flesh,” the Novices chanted, their heads bowed as Lyniah stepped forward to take up her bolter. It was comfortable in her hands as she slammed a magazine home. The click of it locking into place was like a holy hymn.

“Now, we are warring for the faith, spreading light throughout the dark. To the outsiders we provide our burning grace. Though the others fear the flame, I will cherish its embrace,” Lyniah said and bowed her head.

When she stood straight, the novices rose, and together the three of them entered the common room. The other members of the squad were all quietly stepping out. She could see from their stances most were nervous. Only Emiliah and Laurien stood with the determination that Lyniah had come to expect from militants of the Adepta Sororitas.

The isolation of Nyxate certainly did no good for the preparedness of Sisters of the Silent Lily. Their training would have to suffice.

Lyniah put a firm hand on one young woman’s shoulders. She looked up through her violet lenses.

“Good to see you’ve taken your final vows in my absence, Sister Julitte. Remember your training, and have faith in the Emperor. We will return at this storm’s end,” she said, and the younger woman gave a determined nod.

“The Emperor protects,” she said, no hint of waiver in her voice. Lyniah clapped her shoulder, and moved to the next, giving small words of encouragement to each. She knew this should have been Emiliah’s place, but the Sister Superior seemed content with having a veteran of the Repentia do it in her stead.

With small words given to each, Emiliah moved towards the dormitory’s entrance. The novices all gathered around the common area’s edges, while the nine battle sisters of the squad faced their Sister Superior.

“Kneel in prayer to the Emperor,” Emiliah said, and each woman did so. Emiliah was the last to go to her knees, chainsword held in front of her. Each of the others held out their weapons. For most, it was a bolter, for Laurien, a multi-melta, and for young Helyan, a flamer. The novices all formed the Aquila at their chests.

Each of them bowed their heads, and Emiliah began the prayer.

“Emperor, give us your strength. With your light, guide us against the darkness. In our deeds and with our blood, we shall purge the foe,” Emiliah said, her voice carrying easily in the room. Sisters and novices alike answered the prayer with words of their own.

“Hallowed be His will. Hallowed be the pyre.”

A moment of silence lingered, before Emiliah rose to her feet. The others followed suit.

“The storm will strike within the hour. We report to the vehicle bay, ready to support the Planetary Defense Force against any heretics or cultists. Be wary sisters, this plague is a sign of Chaos, and we must be prepared,” Emiliah said.

“Send them back to the warp in chunks,” Laurien called, and Lyniah cracked a fist against her chest with a hearty grunt. A few of the other sisters looked at her, some with tilted heads.

“Sorry... time with the Space Wolves,” Lyniah said with a shrug, and Laurien laughed, her helmet unable to hide the mirth in her voice.

“You are going to have to tell me your tales sometime, Sister,” Laurien said, and Lyniah nodded her head. The moment seemed to have helped relax the other sisters of the squad.

At their head, Emiliah rolled her shoulders, and stepped out from the door. The remainder of the squad followed, the clamp of their boots joining the other squads of the preceptory in the corridors. All of them heading towards the cathedral or vehicle bay to be marshalled against the coming threat. There was an air of excitement among them now that the moment was here.

The great toll of the cathedral’s bells stopped all movement. The sisters looked at each other in confusion, as the bells let out another peal that carried through the entirety of the preceptory.

“Sister Superior, what’s that mean?” someone asked between the echoing rings.

“Nothing good,” was the reply, almost lost amid the sudden buzz of conversation as the procession started forward again. There was an edge to their movements now, a greater urgency as the bells continued to ring, their sound reaching out into the city.

The disciplined march turned into a rush to get outside, and Lyniah found herself rushing along them all. She could not remember when last the great bells of the cathedral had rang.

Emiliah led them into the cathedral. Hundreds of sisters were flocked here, the buzz of confusion nearly drowned out by the repeating toll. The great doors were opened, and many were pushing outside, to look upwards at the growling skies as the warpstorm descended upon Nyxata. A sickly green hue covered the world, and when Lyniah got outside to see for herself, her gut sank.

“Throne.”

~***~

Kylina followed Olea down the final hallway to her mother’s salon. It was the first time she’d been here since returning to Nyxate from the Schola Progenium so many years ago. She had of course met with her mother, and Olea, in secret, but never here at the palace. With each step closer to those doors at the end of the hall, Kylina felt better; more relaxed, more free, as if each footfall shed another lie of the Eccliesiarchy.

She turned her head to address the sisters behind her. Sisters she had over the years lured into the embrace of Slaanesh by slowly peeling away each layer of hypocrisy, each foul lie, that had been wrapped around them since being given to the Schola Progenium as orphan girls. It had been slow, arduous, but eventually they were able to see the truth of the Corpse God, and of the rotting husk of the Imperium. Through it all, Kylina had played the part of the dutiful zealot.

“Remember sisters, we still have a ruse to play. Easy on the wine, and the narcotics, but fuck and feast to your content,” she said, and she was answered with eager growls and purrs. With a smile Kylina turned ahead once more, as Olea reached the doors and opened them.

Beautiful melodies and pink smoke rolled out from the room; a sweet incense that Kylina breathed in. She felt a tingle running across her brain, and a heat in her loins as it swirled in her lungs. Behind her, her sisters pulled off their helmets to breathe it all in.

The room was filled with couches, cushions, silk pillows. Tables were covered in platters of delicacies, many imported from off world. Pitchers of wine, ale, and spirits were carried by naked and collared slaves who had devoted themselves to the Dark Prince’s will. Others of the palace’s staff lounged wearing little to nothing, often in pairs that they may caress or taste the skin of one another. Each of them stared at the entering Sisters with lustful gazes, already beckoning the fallen warriors to them.

The discipline demanded of the Adepta Sororitas was abandoned, as Kylina’s squad broke their ranks, already demanding the slaves take off their armour.

Kylina though, strode through the pink haze towards the figure perched upon a sofa before the great window of her salon. The grand temptress, and Mistress of the cult on Nyxata. The Governess Elaine Ismail; her mother.

She wore only a silk shawl of bright blue, though thin silver chains encrusted with jewels were corded around her chest and arms. Golden bracelets and anklets, engraved with the amethyst filled symbols of Slaanesh, ran up her forearms and calves. She smiled as she saw Kylina enter, and rose. Even above the music and beautiful moans of the slaves, Kylina could hear the clink of the chains clutching her mother’s form.

Beyond her, the storm raged and roared, with purple and orange lightning that crashed across the sky, as a green hue spread across the skies.

“My beautiful daughter. Finally, you are home,” Elaine purred as she came to her daughter and caressed the fallen Sister Superior’s cheek. She leaned in and pressed a hungry kiss to Kylina’s lips, and Kylina accepted it. Opening her mouth to taste the remnants of sex and wine. She dwarfed her mother, clad as she was in armour, but Elaine cared not, only that her tongue could share the bounties of excess with her daughter.

When their kiss broke, Elain moved towards her sofa, and gestured for a pair of pretty collared young men to step forward. Their bodies were covered in garish makeup of bright hues, and pierced all over with dangling jewels.

“The time is upon us daughter. No more do you have to hide. This is when we rise and take the planet for ourselves,” she purred, and Kylina glanced back to see her sisters were mostly shed of their armour now. Save Luceth, who had a slave bent across her armoured lap to crack her hand across the man’s rump. Already he had cum, his seed dripping over the ceramite plating of Luceth’s thigh as he struggled to retain consciousness. Blood dripped from the bruised and battered skin of his rear, but still he moaned in delight.

Kylina smiled at the sight as her own armour was slowly removed. A nubile young woman came over to dance for the Sister Superior, her eyes promising such delights as she looked over the form fitting body glove that was revealed as power armour came away.

“About time. The Dark Prince’s whims are not meant to be done in shadow and secrecy. Our vanity should be paraded,” Kylina said, the dancer coming closer to her running fingers through the Sister Superior’s hair. The perfume clinging to her skin intoxicating. “The fight will be brutal. Most are too indoctrinated to see the truth.”

“As we knew would be the case. But there are many in the PDF who have joined us. Many of the nobility are eager to get more from their fruits. The common folk as well. You have secured us entire missions across the planet. The fight will be brutal, but it will be won. And many will get to experience the ecstasy of death,” Elaine said, reaching over to pick up a goblet of wine, its rim layered in gold. She sipped softly, looking over it at her daughter as the body glove was peeled away. The men licked and kissed at her back and arms, the dancer took a nipple into her mouth and lashed it with her tongue.

Kylina moaned in pleasure, and grasped the dancer’s hair. Kept her there at her breast. It felt good to be openly wanton.

“And the Inquisitor is out of our way. The Cannoness accidentally gave me the perfect excuse to blow his brains out. We will have some hours yet of our ruse, should we need it,” Kylina growled, and forced the dancer’s head away. The woman’s teeth scraped harshly across Kylina’s nipple, and the Sister Superior moaned at the pain.

Then a sound from outside. Distant. Kylina frowned, and Elaine got to her feet. With a wave she had the musicians stop, leaving only the moans of pleasure. With a snap of her fingers, the moans quieted to mewls, as the sisters continued to take their pleasures of flesh from the slaves. Their eyes though were all upon Elaine who moved to the great window.

“The bells of the cathedral,” Luceth said, getting to her feet, the unconcious slave crumbling to the floor, the skin of his rump blackened with bruises, and bloody from torn skin.

Kylina and Elaine’s eyes went upwards, towards the sky, just as alarms carried throughout the city. As gun batteries began to fire, filling the air with tracers and las fire. A bitter laugh escaped Elaine’s throat as she gazed upon the sight before her, as the city’s defenders rushed to their positions.

For in the sky above was a fleet of ships. Millenia old barges and battleships, already spewing forth landing craft as their guns bombarded the planet’s surface.

“Seems Nurgle wants to take another prize from our Dark Prince. You have to pretend a bit longer, my daughter. War has come to us finally,” Elaine said and sipped at her wine as she watched the exchange of great munitions. Lightning, muzzle flashes, explosions, and tracer rounds lighting up the city. “Well... I’ll not relinquish my world so easily.”
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Crucible of the Lily