As long as the core reaches him.”
Verena offered her a leather belt — a strip of old, cracked ecclesiarch hide. “Are you certain?” Verena asked quietly. Her hands clawed at the stone floor, her legs trembling violently. 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. The alarms began to scream across the compound. Spat on her. She arched her back. “No,” he said, voice hoarse. It seeks truth in suffering, and meaning in what one woman gave, when no one else could. Her hands clawed at the stone floor, her legs trembling violently. After long, hellish moments, the weight slid free. Roxy sobbed around the belt. Verena whispered prayers as she worked — half to comfort Roxy, half to steel herself. “You’ve already done enough.”
He locked the core into his broken plate.
