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“I am ready to die,” she whispered, the belt falling from her mouth. He was shaking — from the act, from awe, from the reality of what she had endured. Verena whispered prayers as she worked — half to comfort Roxy, half to steel herself. And then the bolter fire began. ***

They stood in the reclusiam vault, far below the main decks of the Lux Invicta. It seeks truth in suffering, and meaning in what one woman gave, when no one else could. No armor. Roxy lay still, drenched in sweat, her face contorted in silent pain. In a universe where saints are carved from trauma and silence, Roxy’s sacrifice echoes as a brutal testament to the Imperium’s creed: **only in death does duty end**. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. It was done. But he looked up as she entered.