Roxy lay still, her body exhausted, her purpose fulfilled. After endless minutes, the pressure shifted. Nothing could prepare a body for this. Her legs shaked. Her vision swam. “Are you certain?” Verena asked quietly. In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, where war consumes entire systems and faith is often the only armor left, there are souls who embody the Imperium’s most harrowing truths. Each movement brought fresh waves of agony. This tale does not seek comfort or triumph. He was shaking — from the act, from awe, from the reality of what she had endured. “I carry the fire,” she whispered. Roxy sobbed around the belt. Caelen caught the capsule, cradling it like a relic. One eye was swollen shut. Her entire body resisted — locked up — twisted in silent torment. What she had become. Roxy volunteered without hesitation.
