She could not. Her legs shaked. After endless minutes, the pressure shifted. But in a galaxy that grinds even saints to dust, her greatest act of service would come not from battle — but from surrender. “Make it worth it,” she whispered. Her hands clawed at the stone floor, her legs trembling violently. Those who served with her never forgot. “Make it worth it,” she whispered. A vessel. Roxy volunteered without hesitation. After long, hellish moments, the weight slid free. As long as the core reaches him.”
Verena offered her a leather belt — a strip of old, cracked ecclesiarch hide. They threw her into a cell of rot and rust, where Brother-Sergeant Caelen hung in chains. Stripped of weapons, armor, and all outward signs of sanctity, Roxy became a living vessel. Stripped of weapons, armor, and all outward signs of sanctity, Roxy became a living vessel. Power returned with a low, reverent hum. Caelen caught the capsule, cradling it like a relic.
