He looked at her, still convulsing on the floor, and for once, the mighty Astartes could not find words. The belt muffled it only slightly as the edges of the capsule stretched her farther than she thought possible. She could not. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. She lay on the cold stone floor on her side and forced the leather belt back into her mouth. After long, hellish moments, the weight slid free. She had prepared the core, anointed it, warmed it with sacred oils to ease the passage. Nothing could prepare a body for this. The belt cut into her mouth as her jaw clenched. She simply rolled onto her side and wept — not from shame, but from the knowledge that her body was no longer hers. As long as the core reaches him.”
Verena offered her a leather belt — a strip of old, cracked ecclesiarch hide.
