The Multiverse Project: Warhammer 40,000

"Any time now Amberley!" Crouched behind a destroyed Myrmidon jeep, Laura waited until the hail of las lessened before popping back up and swept her hellgun at the Antebellan soliders worming their way through the wreckages of Salamanders and Chimeras choking the narrow valley in front of them.

"These things take times my dear, I'm afraid you have to hold fast just a little longer," Amberley said pleasantly from a clearing not two hundred paces behind the dwindling defenders. If they weren't about to die, Laura might have actually taken the time to appreciate the scenery. After traversing the cramp, but wondrously beautiful labyrinthine valley, the pathway opened up onto a wide cliff that granted them a breathtaking view of the Grand Canyon like vista beyond. Oh, and there's a massive eldar gateway dangling on the precipice, the once bone white structure was now caked in a few centuries worth of orange dust and grime.

"Our ammo is running low," major Salahdin plopped down beside her and reloaded his Zodd lasgun.

"We have to hold," Laura told him and cut down three Antebellan trying to rush forward.

"Where is the air force?" Major Anaba, Akecheta's sister, asked.

"The valleys and canyons provide a natural cover for them," Laura pointed at the rocky canopy shielding the Antebellan. "The air strike we called in half an hour ago did absolutely nothing."

"I should have brought more men," Salahdin growled and fired off a few bursts.

"The Chaos Sisters must've known about this place," Laura went on. "That's why they send bloody general Matthias here to personally kill us."

"If this is to be our graves, so be it," Anaba gritted her teeth.

"Am I the only one who sees the silver lining here?" Laura smirked.

"And that would be?" Salahdin asked.

"They deem this place a threat," Laura continued, "which means the webway gate still works and this hasn't been all for naught."

"I'll feel a lot better if inquisitor Amberley manage to get it working," Anaba said. "That thing is as old as the planet."

"That's reassuring," Salahdin deadpanned the same moment falling bombs whistled through the air. "Take cover!"

It was a wild, uncoordinated thing that did little damage to the battlegroup. What it accomplished however, was put a stutter in the Tallarn and Ekkaroqian suppressing fire, and those two seconds were enough for Johnny Reb to pour into the opening.

"Hold the line!" Salahdin yelled above the hollers of bloodthirsty yeehaw. "Hataa almawt!"

"Hataa almawt!" His men responded and closed ranks while Anaba and the Ekkaroqian's braves charged the Antebellan's phalanx, inadvertently hampering the Tallarn line of sight.

"Fucking hell, this is gonna get nasty real quick!" Laura was trying to get a clear shot, but the Ekkaroqian and Antebellan were locked in such a hellish melee that she couldn't shoot one without hitting the other.

"I agree," Salahdin threw away his empty lasgun and unsheathed his two handed scimitar.

"Nice sword mate! I got one too!" Laura stabbed her thumb at the huge claymore strapped across her back. No prissy saber or rapier for her, nope, only the best, most monstrous man cleaver for inquisitor Laura!

"Our steel will not thirst this day then," Salahdin said stoically and gave his mighty curved sword a few testing swings.

"Laura dear, can you give me a hand please?" Amberley spoke up pleasantly, totally aloof of the violence raging around her.

"Love, this is really not a good time!" Laura took down a few stray Antebellan that managed to break through the bloody mosh pit, those little bastards were only thirty paces away now.

"But your assistance is imperative to the success of this endeavor," Amberley went on sweetly. "This won't take long, I promise."

"Fine!" Laura groaned and handed her hellpistol to Salahdin. "Here, keep them busy."

Salahdin took it with a nod and Laura bolted for the looming eldar webway gate, skipping and dodging lasbolts before vaulting over a Myrmidon jeep and landing next to Amberley, who was tinkering with what appeared to be a recently excavated console riddle with eldar calligraphy.

"What do you need?" Laura asked hurriedly.

"See that totem over there?" Amberley pointed at the intricate masonry with alien looking wings sprouting out of the side. "I need you to turn it until the mechanism aligned itself."

"Are you bloody serious mate?!" Laura cried indignantly as she started pushing one of the unfurled wings, it moved laggardly to the jarring scrape of stone. "Shouldn't you, I don't know, get someone bigger to do this?! I'm just a sweet little lady amongst hunky macho men!"

"Well I did have a helper, but now he's in two places at once," Amberley pointed at a Tallarn whose torso was laying ten feet away from his legs.

"Fuck!" Laura cried and put her backs into the task at hand, the nearing din of battle spurred her faster like the crack of a whip. By the time she completed the fourth circuit, Laura caught a glimpse of Anaba eviscerating a downed Antebellan while Salahdin's scimitar wove a bloody whirlwind above her, deterring every thrust and slash of bayonets and sabers.

"How long do I have to – gah!" Laura's grip slipped and she tumbled gracelessly to the ground. The totem mechanism has founded its niche and the lowest tier plunged into some unseen hole with an unnaturally loud thud. Unslinging her claymore, Laura spun toward the battle but found the combatants frozen in wary perplexity, their suddenly luminescent faces honed on the webway gate behind her. Glancing back, Laura was admittedly surprised to see the earth coated eldar portal shimmering to life.

"Well I'll be," Laura went to stand before the rippling, silvery threshold.

"Let's just hope the eldar honor our pact," Amberley commented the same moment a howling shriek erupted from the webway.

"Sir, we're surrounded," Ruven calm utterance was a stark contrast to the abysmal situation outside.

"Yes lieutenant, I can see that," the melodic pounding of shells on armor resounded across the interior, tendrils of smoke seeped through the walls, stench of burnt metal permeated across the tiered cockpit. Henry spared these trifles discomfort a momentary glance before shifting his attention back to the many screens displaying what was going on outside the King Ghidorah. They were trapped, isolated amongst hostile Vanquishers and Conquerors that were shelling them with impunity, the Immortal Spirit vanguard scattered by the Antebellan masterful counterattack. This was what he gets for trying to be chivalrous and help the Sororitas. Every attempt to break the encirclement have proven unsuccessful, for every tank they killed five more took its place, leaving the Stormhammer darting this way and that like a cornered tiger.

"General, I suggest we ram those fuckers and make a break for it," Konas gave his suggestion.

"That seems to be our only option," Henry agreed and pointed at the mini-map. "Head for that line of vanilla Leman Russes over there, all barrels loaded."

"Yes sir," Konas put the pedal to the metal and the King Ghidorah lurched forward. They were nearing the Leman Russes when a jarring bang ruptured the King Ghidorah's hull. Flames bloomed across the walls, and amongst the pops and sizzles came screams that turned his blood to ice.

"Ladaee!" Henry shouted down the smoky chutes as Ruven doused the fire with an extinguisher.

"We're okay!" Ladaee responded while Elpida coughed furiously. Henry was relieved, but noticed then that the King Ghidorah wasn't moving.

"Ruven, why did we stop?!" Henry strode up to the tank lieutenant, the consoles and monitors were still working but the Stormhammer remained still.

"It's a direct hit sir, they've killed our main engine," Ruven typed the keyboard quickly, bringing up a dozen danger red windows. "Our guns are still working, but we're sitting grox here."

"Casualties?" Henry pressed on.

"Few cuts and burns, but we're all fine," Ruven glanced nervously around the hull. "They've stopped shelling us though."

"Probably don't need to anymore," Henry shrugged.

"Even the mightiest can fall, lord general."

Henry blistered at the gloating, southern belle voice that echoed across the King Ghidorah. Without waiting for his command, Ruven opened the communication channel and waved for Henry to response.

"A pack of mongrel can bring down a lion, but they can never kill it," Henry shot back as Ladaee and Elpida joined him. A swift examination told Henry that despite being a little sooty, both of them were unharmed.

"Courageous words coming from someone who's at my mercy," the woman continued. Her tone almost respectful, "but where are my manners, I believe we haven't been properly introduced, general Steelwall Janet, at your service."

"The genderbent Stonewall Jackson," Henry muttered then added quickly. "An honor mam, are you here to formally surrender to the Immortal Spirit battlegroup?"

"You are spirited, I admire that," Janet said. "But alas you are mistaken. Surrender and I guarantee that you will be treated with honor and dignity, as you have shown my daughter."

"Yeah, I don't believe any of that," Henry said. "And shouldn't the Supreme Commander be the one giving me the ultimatum?"

"Alas, Richard Tiberius is no more, slain by the Sororitas warrior women," Janet didn't sound too choked up about it. "You are now in the presence of the new Supreme Commander."

"Congratulation on your promotion," Henry deadpanned.

"I take this responsibility with a heavy heart," Janet declared happily. "Well then general Henry, what do you say to my offer?"

"I must politely decline," Henry gave his answer.

"Disappointing, but unsurprising," a jarring rumble shook the King Ghidorah, not the pounding explosion kind but a low, continuous reverberation. Turning to the flickering monitors, Henry watched as the Antebellan's northern column parted and holy fucking shit, Steelwall Janet got herself a fucking Baneblade. A grey monstrous looking thing with a single massive cannon now trained on the stricken King Ghidorah.

"Nice Baneblade you got there," Henry went on conversationally.

"Beautiful isn't she?" Janet said. "The Winter Maiden I call her, for she brings cold and darkness to all my enemies."

"Mine is named after a three headed dragon," Henry shrugged.

"A good enough inspiration as any," Janet went on. "Alas, even a dragon can be brought low by the sword of justice and righteousness."

"See, I don't think you know what those words mean," Henry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, but I do general Henry," Janet chuckled. "For you see, since arriving on this planet, you have murdered countless Antebellan, good men and women whose only crime was rising up to defend their homes, your vehemence rivaling the Ekkaroqian savages in barbarity. The only punishment for that crime is death."

"And you are to be my executioner?" Henry asked.

"Alas, I have promised my men that they are also entitled to vengeance," Janet said. "We need a proper firing squad after all."

"I can still fight, just so you know," at Henry's words, the King Ghidorah triple barrels swung toward the Winter Maiden.

"Splendid, it is so unsporting to kill an easy prey," Janet said. "It has been an honor…"

Explosion resounded around them and Henry braced for the impact. None came. Blinking, Henry whipped his head toward the monitors and found blazing wreckages where the Antebellan tanks had once stood, and from the wall of fire came the night black shape of the Undertaker, the Macharius's twin cannons raising hell across the enemy's ranks. The Evangelion followed the Undertaker into the breach, her shrieking laser clearing a path for the rest of the Immortal Spirit armor vanguard to enter the encirclement, the Ultramarines Rhino and Al-Rahman's Vanquisher leading the way.

"Stop the Winter Maiden! Kill the bitch!" Henry bellowed and the King Ghidorah's triple barrels roared. The Winter Maiden however was very fast. As she swerved away, one shell struck the thick body armor, another grazed the turret, and the last missed its mark completely, instead killing a bunch of Conqueror Leman Russes on the side.

"You're a slippery one, ain't cha?" Janet snickering observation was accompanied by a shell that struck the King Ghidorah so hard that it felt like the Stormhammer was lifted off the ground for a couple of seconds.

"Sir, I believe we just lost our tank tracks," Ruven spoke up.

"Not that it matters, we can't move anyway," Henry grimaced when he saw the breach the Undertaker had made closing up, the blistering phalanx of tanks unleashing its firepower on the now trapped battlegroup.

"Yo, you okay dude?!" Damien voice boomed in his earbud.

"Yeah," Henry respond. "Look, not that I don't appreciate what you're doing, but this doesn't seem wise."

"It's a spur of a moment thing," Damien said.

"But now all of us are trapped here," Henry pointed out the obvious.

"We cannot in good conscious leave you behind sir," Al-Rahman declared adamantly.

"Thanks my dudes," Henry smiled. "But just so you know, things are definitely not looking good. Like, we could totally die here."

"And we shall fight to the end, no matter what comes," lieutenant Callaway, the Undertaker's commander, spoke up. His deep, grating voice was indefatigable in its conviction.

"Agreed," lieutenant Mitsurugi gave her short, crisp assent.

"So be it," Henry smirked and opened up all communication channels. "Everybody, form up into a defensive circle, all guns blazing! Let's see who falls first!"

"Those fucking whores fucked us!"

"And now we're gonna die because you had to go and play the fucking knight!"

"It's not my fault!" Tangmo shouted back at Krix and Luva's combined admonitions as las and bolts peppered the Leman Russes and Chimeras they were hiding behind, the ceaseless volley coming from every direction. "Henry was the one who ordered this, not me!"

"Oh please, you were dying to go after them," Lingxin added poisonously and gunned down a group of Antebellan trying to flank them.

"No!" Tangmo gave his lame ass defense, but yeah, he totally loves playing the hero.

"Where's the fucking air force?!" Kenshin bellowed at the sky.

"We're in the thick of the battle, they can't get a clear shot," Min Jae told him, "not unless you want to get carpet bombed along with the enemy."

"That would be better than getting picked apart like this," Krillen made his observation.

"Hell no! We're not gonna die like a bunch of morons!" Tangmo frowned at his data-pad before stuffing it back inside his awesome commissar coat. "We're heading back to the trenches, fuck the bolter bitches!"

"Okay, but which way's east?" Orhul spoke up.

"I have no fucking idea," Tangmo's head darted left and right, "Luva, Akecheta, anything?"

"The most educated guess I can make right now is that way," Luva pointed to the left.

"Agreed," Akecheta nodded, "judging by the wind direction that should be the way back east."

"Form up! Everybody still alive, form the fuck up, we're heading back to the trenches, fuck this shit!" Tangmo bellowed into his earbud as the Chimeras and Leman Russes started trudging eastward. "Get a lock on my position and follow us out, let's go!"

Under a savage, unceasing barrage the battered convoy sets off, firing from all cylinders but the Antebellan hounded them relentlessly. Tangmo was in the process of gunning down an Antebellan captain and his horse when a large column of soldiers thundered up to them, the lead woman yelling, "don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

"Raine?! Get your ass over here! Move!" Tangmo waved Raine and the Auxilia into the convoy. "Damn, it's good to see you alive."

"I thought you were supposed to be with general Henry?" Leilatha asked.

"We were," Raine took off her awesome commissar cap and hurriedly wiped her brow before putting it back on. "But the Antebellan reinforcements jumped us and we got separated. We managed to fight our way out."

"Lucky you bump into us then," Tangmo smirked and gave Raine a friendly smack on the shoulder. "Stay close, we're getting the hell out of here."

"Shouldn't we be helping the Sororitas?" Raine asked as the convoy rolled onward.

"They're on their own," Tangmo gave Raine a look. "But if you're in a charitable mood, you're more than welcome to go after them."

Raine glared at him, "I'm not an imbecile, commissar Tangmo, I know an unwinnable situation when I see one. Nor am I so heartless as to throw away the lives of my men when nothing good can be achieved."

"Good to know," Tangmo winked at her mischievously. "Now, let's get the hell…"

Two Chimeras down the line exploded into a hundred flaming pieces, screaming guardsmen barreled out of the gutted vehicles, some wreathed in flame, some missing limbs, some carrying unmoving comrade.

"Well shit," coughing and spitting acrid smoke from his mouth, Tangmo growled when a quartet of Vanquisher Leman Russes rolled menacingly toward them, confident hunters about to make the kill.

"We need our Leman Russes to the front now!" Leilatha shouted into her earbuds.

"The enemies are pressing on our flanks and rears!" The tank commander responded. "We can't spare any men!"

"To me sons and daughters of Ekkaroq! Strike like the hurricane, forward!" Akecheta unleashed a powerful war cry and lead his Wind Walker in a full frontal charge against the Vanquishers, tomahawks and lasguns brandished high.

"Not gonna join them?" Orhul elbowed Kenshin in the ribs.

"Can I?" Kenshin glanced hopefully at Tangmo.

"Don't fucking move!" Tangmo wagged a warning finger at the disappointed Kuronese and trained his dual laspistols at the Antebellan emerging from the Vanquishers' hatches. "Give them covering fire!"

The Antebellan trying to man the mounted guns were dealt with easily enough, but the Leman Russes side guns however…yeah. The supporting heavy bolters turned many Ekkaroqian into exploding minced meats, but amazingly Akecheta and a good number of Wind Walker survived the barrage and closed ranks with the Vanquishers, slipping easily beneath the long barrels. With the Immortal Spirit battlegroup cheering them on, the Wind Walker clambered up the Vanquishers, pried opened the hatches and threw explosive satchels into the bowel of the tank, or in one case, emptied a flamethrower down its metal gullet. The cheers became cacophonic when the Leman Russes were consumed by fire, the Ekkaroqian didn't look at the explosion like absolute badasses as they ran back.

"The path is clear, lord commissar," Akecheta rejoined them.

"Yo dude, that was fucking awesome!" Tangmo smacked Akecheta on the shoulder, drawing a wolfish grin from the Ekkaroqian. "Okay people, we got a clear path let's go!"

Tangmo was just starting to wave the convoy forward when a fresh column of Antebellan Chimeras and Leman Russes bulled through the Vanquishers' flaming ruins.

"Oh, come the fuck on!" Tangmo yelled at the offending tanks rolling leisurely toward them, the fact that these lots were in Union blue wasn't missed by him but he was too fucking pissed to make any intelligible comment. The Immortal Spirit battlegroup earlier elation was quickly replaced by hollering yeehaw as the Antebellan tightened the noose around the convoy, joyful in their mockery.

"Tangmo, what do we do?" Leilatha turned to him, her face stern and ready for what was to come.

"We do what any good guardsmen would in a situation like this," Tangmo adjusted his awesome commissar coat. "We die standing."

"After them, sisters! In His name let none survive!" Galatea held her power zweihander high as the Sororitas leapt over the stone ruins that littered the cathedral awing courtyard and charged the heretics that were once their sisters in arms. At the head of the vanguard, Miriya and her squad fired from the hip at the heretic's crumbling defenses, the full auto barrage injuring and slaying many. The Sororitas crashed into the heretics and vengeance was unleashed with extreme prejudice. Miriya ducked under a Khornate's chainaxe swing, kicked the woman to the ground and gunned her down. Miriya was ejecting the spent clip when a Slaanesh heretic tackled her to the ground, the bolter flying from her grip as the woman straddled her. Before Miriya can reach for her fallen weapon, the Slaanesh heretic opened her maw, the dagger sharp teeth leering dementedly as a long serpentine tongue darted out and wrapped its wet, leathery length around her throat, squeezing like a python. She choked and the heretic laughed, reveling in her struggle. Gritting her teeth, Miriya grabbed the slippery appendage tight, drew her dagger and in one smooth motion severed it. The Slaanesh heretic reared back with a scream, blood and saliva drenching Miriya's face as she drew her plasma pistol and pulled the trigger, the dead woman falling sideway with a scorched, gaping torso.

"Miriya!" Verity was suddenly beside her, a crystal vial of holy water titled toward her face. "Hold still and don't open your eyes."

Miriya nodded and let the cleansing water washed away the gore, followed by a quick scrubbing from Verity's sleeves.

"Thank you," Miriya spat the last foul taste from her mouth and rose. "Stay close Verity."

"I'm right behind you," Verity nodded with a smile, and Miriya returned it with a grin of her own, looks like there's still some hope for them after all.

"To me, sisters!" Miriya bellowed and her squad quickly formed a defensive circle around them.

"Are you two friends again yet?" Cassandra smirked as she cut down two Khornate heretics with a burst of bolt.

"We're getting there," Verity shot Miriya a sly, playful look.

"Indeed," Miriya couldn't help but chuckled.

"As happy as I am for this development, maybe we should concentrate on the heretics first?" Isabel hurriedly slammed a new magazine home.

"You are right of course, forgive me," Miriya hefted up her plasma pistol and fired into a thicket of heretics trying to regroup. "No mercy sisters! In the name of the God Emperor, kill them all!"

Under the storm of bolts and fire, the Sororitas advanced relentlessly on the heretics, pushing the traitorous women back across the courtyard inch by bloody inch. And unlike before, where the foul corruption of Chaos tainted their action, this attack was precise and righteous, a divine punishment upon the foes of the God Emperor. Soon enough, the traitors showed their true color and fled like cowards toward the cathedral. Rage and triumph warred inside Miriya, elated at seeing the enemies crushed but disgusted that they were now seeking refuge within the Sororitas own sanctum.

"After them!" Bellona cracked the power whip-sword high above her head and charged after the fleeing heretics, the other canonesses close at her heel. With a mighty war cry, the Sisters of Battle sprinted after their leaders, the wall of heretics parting before them like flesh yielding to a thrusting sword. Soon they were thundering through a wide roadway flanked on both side by towering columns and solemn statues of bygone saints and heroines, pursuing the routed Khornate and Slaanesh heretics toward the cathedral's great archway entrance.

"This is a mistake," Danae spoke up suddenly once they were inside.

"Focus!" Cassandra hissed at her.

"She's right," Marcia glanced around the dusty corridor, the colonnades and dark, silent alcoves that surrounded them didn't looked reassuring in the least. "If there's a place for an ambush, this is it."

"Be quiet," Miriya commanded, her earlier zeal cooling to a sharp alertness now that she saw how right Marcia was. The hundred or so sisters that had followed the canonesses into the cathedral were dwarfed by the grand passageway they now tread upon. The wide flagstone path was deprived of any cover, leaving them exposed on all side. More ominous was the fact that the entrance they had rushed through was now closed.

"Stay sharp sisters," Galatea's command echoed down the line, their paces slowing to a crawl, weapons sweeping across the suddenly oppressive hallway, the grandeur and sanctity lost within the silent shadow that seems to bleed from every recess and crevices.

"Close ranks sisters," Morelia ordered and Miriya found herself shoulder to shoulder with Cassandra and Isabel, a wide-eyed Verity peeking behind them.

"Secure the hall sisters," Crestienne tightened her grip on the power halberd. "Form a defensive perimeter, quickly now!"

Miriya moved to obey, but everything below the neck suddenly became unresponsive. Cursing the Machine Spirit for its untimely need to be uncooperative, Miriya strained her muscles to get any limbs to move but the carapace was inert, the servos and gears unmoving despite the power pack humming a constant tune on her back.

"What is the matter with all of you?!" Amaryllis bellowed, her movement unimpeded, "get to your position!"

"My armor is malfunctioning!" A Sacred Rose cried out, the same sentiment echoed by other Battle Sisters who stood immobile like statue carved of ceramite. Miriya was about to add her own voice to the rising distress when the screech of scraping metal hissed around them. Glancing toward the noise, Miriya saw green and red neon orbs floating in the darkened alcove before a group of mechanicus resolved themselves from the shadow. They were not simple tech-priest either, but skitarii, the militant faction of the Cult of Mars. She should've known the damn cogs were going to betray them again. And standing beside the machine men were the Khornate and Slaanesh heretics, allies in treachery. Those who had fallen to the Prince of Excess giggled and crooned at their incapacitated prey, while the women devoted to the Blood God seethed with barely restrained rage, purring chainswords and chainaxes shaking in their grips. Slowly, the Slaanesh heretics sauntered up to the sisters and glided sensually between each one of them, questing hands slithered over breasts and between legs, taking their times with the defenseless Sororitas.

"Now, now girls, don't play with your food," a silky voice rippled across the hallway, the timbre a sweet caress. Stepping smoothly into the light came another heretic, her power armor excessively decorated with the unholy motif of Slaanesh, a great, demonic looking sword held easily in her hand.

"Do you not recognize me, sister?" She pouted at Galatea and Miriya noticed that the heretic was wearing a Martyred Lady patterned power armor. She knew immediately who it was that stood before them. Miriael Sabathiel, the greatest shame of their order, the first Sister of Battle in history to willingly fall to the Ruinous power.

"I know who you are, traitor," Galatea trained her bolt pistol at Miriael. "Let my kin go and I shall grant you a merciful death."

"Never make a threat you cannot deliver, my dear Galatea," Miriael giggled mockingly. "But no, I'm afraid I cannot comply with your request, for it is the mechanicus who has so easily convinced the Machine Spirits to abandon you."

"Too bad they were not thorough with their task," Heloise declared as she and Amaryllis got into a fencing stance, "for we shall make short work of you."

"As much as I want to play," Miriael sheathed her daemon sword, the Agoniser, and backed away from the canonesses, "another has already requested to test your mettle."

The hiss of swords sliding across scabbards resonated shrilly across the hallway. Turning her head toward the raspy announcement, Miriya saw the four arms heretic from before kneeling on the ground, head held low in reverence, the curved swords resting peacefully in their sheaths. And striding down the corridor toward them was another fallen Sororitas clad in an immaculate armor of deepest ebon trimmed in burning red with a stiff leathery cape draped across her shoulders. The armor's craftsmanship, design and etching bespoken of high artistry, every piece created with great love and veneration, a war gear fit for the knights of olden times. The woman herself wore the raiment with grace, back poised, chin high and solemn as she came to stand beside the kneeling heretic. In her hand was a great sword of outworldly silver and ruby, the double edged blade was serrated like draconic teeth from the demon head crossguard to the fuller and the gleaming diamond tip was honed to a ringing sharpness. Her eyes traveling up from the sword to its bearer, Miriya couldn't help but gasp at the woman's regal beauty. The heretic was inhumanly perfect in femininity, the snow white skin, the sharp cheekbones, the sculpted contour of her face, her full lips, and her piercing round eyes were envious in its splendor, all of which was framed by shoulder length locks of dark marigold. Even the great horns cresting up her brows and smaller protrusions ridging her skull added to her magnificent, like a crown upon a queen. Miriya felt an unnatural urge to destroy such sickening perfection.

"You have done well, Kayaamat," she told the kneeling heretic, her timbre commanding yet pleasant.

"Thank you, mistress Azarvhin," Kayaamat bowed reverently.

"The heretics wishes to die, sisters," Bellona strode toward Azarvhin, her power whip-sword rattling across the flagstones, Galatea, Crestienne and Morelia at her back while Heloise and Amaryllis spread out in a pincer maneuver. "Let us teach her that no darkness can hide from the God Emperor eternal light."

"Such display of confident is refreshing to see," Azarvhin dropped into a battle stance, legs braced and sword pointed forward, both gauntleted hands tight on the grip, "when you are ready, sisters."

"For the Emperor!" Bellona charged, the segmented blades of her power whip-sword flaring to life with shimmering blue energy, the air cracked like thunder as it arced high and careened down on the heretic.

"Blood for the Blood God," Azarvhin stated calmly and easily sidestepped the attack, unperturbed by the flying sparks as she darted for Bellona, so fast that the only shape Miriya can discern was the blurry after image of her passing. Bellona pulled the whip-sword back as Galatea and Crestienne surged forward, halberd and zweihander moving to intercept Azarvhin, sparks flew to ringing cadence and it was the canonesses who were sent stumbling back by the heretic's impeccable swordsmanship.

"Beautiful, wouldn't you agree my dear?" Miriya shuddered when Miriael appeared beside her suddenly, leaning on her shoulder companionably as Morelia engaged Azarvhin, every swing of her thunder hammer easily deflected and parried by the heretic's longsword, leaving the Valorous Heart canoness exposed to a counter attack. But Azarvhin never moved in for the kill. Was she toying with Morelia, or studying her?

"Stay away from me," Miriya hissed as Bellona, Galatea and Crestienne rejoined the fight, yet Azarvhin easily held her ground, the blasphemous sword weaving an impenetrable storm around its owner.

"It is always a joy to see Redwind sing and dance," Miriael wrapped her arms around Miriya's waist and snuggled up so close that their cheeks were touching. "And despite her grim demeanor, Azarvhin possesses a theatric flare that few can emulate. Oh! Here's one now, I guarantee it will take your breath away."

Grunting, Miriya watched as Azarvhin was pushed slowly back, yielding steps after steps as the canonesses moved to surround her, their attacks quick, powerful and in sync. When it appears that Azarvhin was moments away from capitulating, Heloise and Amaryllis dashed in, rapier and curved sword poised for the killing blow. Her cloak came free suddenly, but instead of falling to the ground the leather flaps unfurled outward and stood erected upon her back, and Miriya saw that it was a pair of black draconic wings veined and tipped in gleaming silver, a thing of terrible magnificent, beautiful and malevolent in grandeur. The wings came down, sending a powerful gust billowing out in all directions, Heloise and Amaryllis almost collided into each other when Azarvhin shot up into the air, the heretic's wings beating softly as she hovered above the canonesses, a blasphemous parody of a saintly image.

"Don't blink now dear, this is where Azarvhin truly shines," Miriael pointed excitedly as Azarvhin shot back to the ground like a comet, her sword slamming down with such a force that Heloise and Amaryllis were send flying back by the shockwave of her tempestuous landing. Bellona and Galatea closed in, but Azarvhin was able to deter the furious attack with precise, graceful ease. And she didn't stay on the defense anymore. Slowly, but surely, Bellona and Galatea started giving ground to Azarvhin.

"Are you not impressed, sister superior?" Miriael giggled huskily into Miriya's ear as Galatea was send rolling across the floor by Azarvhin's vicious swing, the momentum sending the heretic into a graceful pirouette, the razor sharp tips of her wings clashing against Bellona's power whip-sword in a cascade of sparks. Her guard faltering, Redwind lunged passed Bellona's defense and scored hits after hits on the red armor.

"You will not win, traitor," Miriya gritted her teeth as Crestienne and Morelia rushed to aid Bellona. Swathing Bellona away with a backhanded swing, Azarvhin rounded on the two canonesses. In the span of a single heartbeat, Azarvhin battered Morelia aside with her wing, inverted the grip of her sword, and closed in on Crestienne, the serrated tooth making a horrid screech as it ran down the length of the power halberd. Before Crestienne can react, Azarvhin gored her hard in the gut with the pernach like pommel. Blood burst from Crestienne's gaping mouth, her face twisted in agony.

"Don't be so rough now dear," Miriael called out to Azarvhin. "They need the energy and fortitude for what is to come."

"Of course," Azarvhin nodded curtly as the gagging Crestienne collapsed to the ground, Galatea rushing to her side as Morelia, Heloise and Amaryllis charged the heretic. The three canonesses moved with unparalleled grace and coordination, a masterful poetry of stabs, thrusts and swings, pinning Azarvhin down and leaving no room for her to maneuver. But Azarvhin was not defeated, and to Miriya's horror the heretic spread her wings again and dashed for Morelia as she was lifting up her thunder hammer. Redwind swooped low, striking Morelia in the knees. Sparks flew as the canoness was swept off her feet then launched into the air by Azarvhin's powerful upward swing. Gravity was pulling Morelia down when Azarvhin reeled Redwind back and send the canoness cartwheeling on top of the rising Crestienne with a battering strike.

"Things are not looking too good, is it?" Miriael crooned and traced her finger across the scars on Miriya's cheek, her playful expression sharpening suddenly. "Well, well, well, looks like I found the celebrity of the hour."

"Don't touch me," Miriya gritted her teeth. Azarvhin was taking on Heloise and Amaryllis now, and it was clear that the two canonesses were severely outmatched.

"We have great things planned for you, sister Miriya," Miriael moved in front of her, blocking the view of the fight.

"I will never bow to the Dark Gods, traitor," Miriya hissed, straining to move but her sanctified power armor was little better than a coffin now. "I rather die than submit!"

"You have no idea how many sisters said the same thing," Miriael gave Miriya's nose a little tap. "Some caved in so easily, while others held out for so long, it was a joy to break them. I have a very good feeling that you will be of the latter sorts."

"Fuck you, Chaos whore," Miriya growled.

"If you wish my dear, but later," Miriael giggled then turned back to the fight. "Ah, looks like Azarvhin is almost finished."

Miriael stood aside and Miriya saw that the traitor was right. Heloise and Amaryllis were sprawled on the ground, trying and failing to rise, their faces a rictus of pain as Galatea landed hard between them, her zweihander struck from her grip, blood seeped from the crevices of her armor. Azarvhin was shifting her grip on Redwind when Bellona's power whip-sword lashed out and wrapped its crackling length around the Chaos sword. Giving Bellona a bored look, Azarvhin twisted Redwind so that the whip-sword's links and segments were locked between the toothed ridges of the blade. Jerking Redwind backward, Azarvhin wrenched the power whip-sword from Bellona's grip. Weaponless, Bellona roared in frustration and stomped toward Azarvhin, fists clenched and shaking. Seeing her intend, Azarvhin let the whip-sword clattered to the ground and turned to Kayaamat, Redwind held toward her. The four arm heretic took it reverently. Her wings furling back over her shoulders, Azarvhin got her guards up and engaged Bellona. The fight was horridly one sided. Bellona's martial renown was well known amongst the Sororitas, but Azarvhin was simply better. Every jab countered with a hook, every hook met with a jab, every swing answered with a flurry of punches that send the canoness staggering, each hammering fists harder than the last. Then, after a sloppy punch thrown out of desperation, Azarvhin connected a haymaker on Bellona's jaw. The canoness tried to stay on her feet, but her knees folded and she collapsed to the ground, shocked gasps rippled through the immobile sisters.

"Well done," Syrathel emerged from behind a pillar, clapping as she went to stand amongst the fallen canonesses. "Khorne truly blessed his champion this day."

"The blood that flowed was truly appreciated," Azarvhin took Redwind back from Kayaamat, "even if it was not needed in the end."

"They should have used their bolt pistols," Syrathel nudged Morelia's sidearm with her feet.

"It would not have matter," Azarvhin gazed darkened suddenly on Syrathel. "They chose to fight with honor, and I commend them for that, it is something a scion of Tzeentch will never understand."

"Spare me your sanctimony," Syrathel sneered then turned to Miriael. "Get them ready."

"With pleasure," Miriael cackled, long serpentine tongue uncoiling wickedly passed her needle filed teeth to wet her lips. "You heard her girls! Have fun!"

The Slaanesh heretics that have been lurking around the Sororitas burst into motion, laughing dementedly as they converged on the incapacitated canonesses. Before they can react the traitors were upon them, kicking and punching until the women were waylaid back on the floor. Hot tears of frustration and anger rolling down her cheeks, Miriya can do nothing but watch as Galatea, her commander, her friend, was brutalized with gleeful savagery, every pained grunt and fleshy smacks exciting the heretics to greater feat of violence. When the assault finally ended, Galatea was left sprawled on the bloody marble floor, gasping shallow breaths, her face a canvas of swollen bruises and bleeding gashes. But the heretics were not finished. Daggers flashing in their hands, the fallen sisters once again pounced on the beaten canonesses, the Sororitas feeble struggles were quickly restrained and the blades descended. Piece by piece, the venerated power armors were torn from their bodies, sparks and blood flew as the canonesses were stripped of their holy raiments. They fought and cursed throughout the humiliating ordeal, the heretics brandishing each liberated pieces of armor like a trophy. In the end not even the body gloves were spare.

"We are wasting time here," Kayaamat spoke up as the Slaanesh heretics stepped back from the naked canonesses. They leered and ogled with unhidden enthusiasm.

"What's life without a little entertainment?" Miriael strode up to join Azarvhin and Syrathel.

"The battle is still ongoing," Azarvhin stepped away from the giggling Miriael. "We should hurry with the summoning ritual."

"Don't fret yourself Azarvhin," Syrathel spared the Khornate champion an annoyed glance. "The battle is moving away from the cathedral, as you can hear for yourself."

"War is a fluid thing," Azarvhin pressed. "We can never be sure which way fortune will swing. The longer we linger for the sake of your indulgence we increase the risk of the enemy turning the tide against us."

"Last I heard, general Henry and Brother Sergeant Damien are surrounded by Janet and her Steelwall regiment, they should be taken care of soon enough," Syrathel went on conversationally. "As for commissar Tangmo, Joanna and her men have him trapped. She should be returning with his head soon."

"Plenty of time to enjoy ourselves," Miriael added huskily.

"Alas, I believe Azarvhin is correct," Syrathel said. "It is of course prudent not to tarry, better to get this done than later."

"Very well then," Azarvhin turned to the traitor skitariis. "Free them."

"Affirmative," a skitarii bowed and tapped the data-slate built into his arm. Without warning Miriya's limbs slackened and she tilted forward. Miriya caught herself just in time despite the heavy armor weighing her down. Many, her squad included, fell to the ground in a boneless heap. She was moving to help them when a sharp kick connected with her ribs, not strong enough to knock her down but enough to get her attention.

"Move!" A Khornate heretic barked at her. When she didn't comply, the woman snatched up her hair and threw her forward. She landed roughly on her shoulder, the power armor responding slowly to her command. "I said move you worthless bitch!"

Miriya rose slowly back to her feet, cursing under her breath when she realized that the Slaanesh heretics from before had taken her weapons, even the combat knife inside her boot.

"On your knees and crawl!" The Khornate woman yelled at Miriya.

"I will walk," Miriya hissed as her squad gathered around her. Growling, the heretic barred her teeth and reeled back her clenched fist.

"Let them walk," Azarvhin stern command stopped the woman from throwing the punch.

It was a petty triumph that Miriya savored deeply as she led her squad forward, heads held high despite their awkward, shambling gaits. But what little satisfaction she managed to glean was swiftly swept away when she saw Galatea and the canonesses, naked and bloodied, being dragged across the floor like pieces of meat heading for the butcher's block. Anger was suffocating Miriya when the Khornate woman shoved her forward, Cassandra and Isabel catching her before she lost her footing. Thanking them with a nod, they walked deeper into the Chaos desecrated interior. Skinned bodies made a macabre frieze along the walls, each arranged in various poses of agony and death, river of crimson ran thick and deep along the marble floor. Above them dangled more corpses preserved in some vile oily substance that made their skin glistered in an abhorrent parody of life, their limbs fastened together by chains and spikes to form fleshy sculptures of strange, inhuman symmetry, soulless faces peeking through the twisting entanglement of arms and legs. Like chandeliers these hellish decorations shadowed their passing until the Sororitas entered the great domed hall of the cathedral. To her surprise, the place of worship was left untouched by the taint of Chaos, but before Miriya can get a better look the Khornate heretic from before pushed her roughly to the ground, stars burst across her vision when her head bounced off the floor, Cassandra and Isabel joining her not a moment later. When the world resumed its normal corporality, Miriya rose slowly and saw decapitated statues, shattered reliquaries and charcoal black remains of ancient scriptures heaped into a mound like little better than garbage about a hundred paces to her right.

"Stay down where you belong!" The Khornate heretic kicked Miriya hard in the back, forcing her onto hands and knees. "And bear witness as we welcome the Dark Gods!"

So that was their plan all along, to open a Warp portal and flood this planet with raw, undiluted energy of the Immaterium, turning it into a daemon world. How could they have been so stupid? The relics were never their objective, more like extra indulgence on Syrathel's part. The blood, the corruption, the atrocities perpetrated by both side of this conflict, the traitors were nurturing this planet for a Chaos incursion. And they had helped plow and sow the field. Miriya pushed her boiling frustration down and channeled it toward finding a way out of this predicament. First, she needed to find where those cog bastards were performing their techno sorcery. Miriya didn't have to look far, for the skitarii had set up a work station in a shadowy alcove on her left. She can also see the confiscated Sororitas weapons being arranged into pristine rows by the cogs. Retrieving them will not be easy, to say the least.

"Up you go, friends," Syrathel sneered and flicked her wrist. Like puppets yanked to life by a cruel mistress, the canonesses were wrenched up into the air and hung two meters above the floor, arms and legs spread eagle by invisible sorcery. "Comfortable? It's a lot better than what you did to me, just so you know."

"Get on with it then," Bellona spat at Syrathel.

"Did you think it would be that simple?" Syrathel giggled nastily. "Then again, you were never the brightest amongst us."

"The Emperor is with us, heretic," Heloise declared, her timbre never losing its commanding resonance. "Rend our bodies, but we will never succumb."

"And rend your body we will," Syrathel's leering smile oozed satisfaction. "Every flap of skin, every tendon, every sinew, every piece of muscle, we'll leave nothing but bones and pulsing organs behind. But you will not die, that I can promise you. Only after the Dark Gods tread their majesty upon this world, and your congregation sacrificed to satiate their hunger, only then might I allow you to die. And like the eldar, Slaanesh will have the pleasure of taking custodianship of your soul, to toy, to play, to break, for eternity."

"You will not win," Crestienne was unperturbed even as wide brass urns, the surface etched with horrid, snarling daemon faces, were placed under each of the canonesses.

"Oh, you silly girl," Syrathel feigned pity as Azarvhin went to stand before Crestienne, Redwind's tip honed upward, poised to strike. "I've already won."

Crestienne gasped when the blade plunged into her lower abdomen. The Argent Shroud sisters wailed in despair but Miriya knew that the stab was not fatal. Teeth gritted, Crestienne allowed only sharp intake of breathes to enunciate her pain as Azarvhin pulled the sword back, red rivulet poured from the incision and flowed down her bare body to trickle into the urn below, the brass container humming in contentment with every drop of blood it received. For the minutes that followed, Azarvhin performed the task with surgical precision on each of the canonesses, stabbing and slashing bellies, thighs, hips and chests, missing every major artery but drawing enough blood that a steady stream fell into the urn.

"…Mistake," Galatea rasped the words, soft and weak as Azarvhin pulled Redwind out of her stomach.

"What was that?" Syrathel waved Azarvhin back and approached the bound Galatea. "Did you say something?"

"We've made a mistake," Galatea panted, disheveled brown hair plastered to her battered face. "We've made a mistake about you."

"Is that so?" Syrathel beamed with triumph. "Am I hearing a confession Galatea? Or an apology? Has the pain become too much already?"

"Confess," Galatea went on breathlessly. "I have to confess."

"Yes, go on," Syrathel was smiling ear to ear now.

"We've made a mistake," Galatea looked up suddenly, fire blazed in her eyes and iron hardened her words. "We should've have killed you that day. But like you said, we were young then, naïve enough to believe that a psyker witch like you can be redeemed. My faith was misplaced. I should've trusted my instinct and put a bolt in your head instead of granting you the mercy of life."

"You called what happened to me mercy?!" Syrathel roared, not too happy anymore.

"You deserved everything that had befall you, witch," Galatea snarled and Syrathel screamed, a raw and painful thing of purest hatred.

"Kill them!" Syrathel shouted at Azarvhin, pointing furiously at the smirking canonesses. "Kill all of them! Kill them, kill them, kill them!"

"You are so boring!" Miriael sauntered up to Azarvhin and gently pushed Redwind down with the tip of her finger. "So quick to kill, so quick to slay, there's no fun in it at all."

"The ritual still need to proceed," Azarvhin braced Redwind on her shoulder and waved at the urns. "The blood collected so far is not enough to please Khorne."

"That can wait," hunger glinted in Miriael's demonic eyes as she leered at the naked canonesses. "I want to have some fun before you start cutting off their hands and feet. It's better to play with a doll that's still whole, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Syrathel grinned maliciously, having calmed herself after the outburst. "Offering to Slaanesh has been neglected for some time now, it is only appropriate that the Prince of Excess be allowed to indulge."

Azarvhin grunted but stand aside as Miriael skipped up to the nude Sororitas and ogled them, committing every lecherous detail to her diseased mind, the Slaanesh traitor making a show of inspecting every woman like they were slaves at an auction block.

"So many choices," Miriael took her time browsing, her serpentine tongue slithering over the bleeding gashes, savoring the taste. The canonesses met the indignity with steely stoicism, unflinching and unmoved, refusing to submit to the traitor's torture. "But alas, as inviting as you all may be, I already have someone else in mind."

Miriael spun around and strolled merrily toward the Battle Sisters. Miriya's spine stiffened when it became clear that Miriael was heading straight for her, the smile she wore was one a tigress gave an injured doe caught in her paw. Consigned to what was to come, Miriya rose slowly from her forced prostration and faced the traitor without fear. Puffing up her chest, Miriya held her breathe as Miriael came to stand before her, but instead of the leering lust she was expecting, the look the traitor gave her was one of innocent incomprehensibility.

"Did you want something, sister Miriya?" Miriael's question was sickeningly sweet.

"I know what your sick mind wants, so be done with it," Miriya snarled, already tired of this charade. "The Emperor walk besides me and I shall never yield."

"Eager I see!" Miriael laughed and pinched Miriya's cheek playfully. "I am touched by your enthusiasm my dear, but you must simply wait your turn."

Breathe caught in her throat, Miriya followed Miriael's lecherous gaze, her power armor complying with agonizing reluctance, and found the heretic's pick. Verity.

"Bring the hospitaller over to me please, I want to get a better look."

"No!" Miriya shouted the same moment the Khornate heretics closed in. Twisting and flopping gracelessly on to her chest, Miriya willed every muscle into motion and managed a feeble crawl toward Verity, her hand reaching for the hospitaller. Isabel and Cassandra threw themselves on to Verity, encasing her between them, while the rest of the squad did everything in their power to stop the traitors. Aemilia and Marcia managed to throw a few punches, but the scuffle was short-lived and the two were struck down by bolter butts across the face. Rubria, Danae and Ananke jumped the Khornate traitors, clinging to them with tenacious desperation, but swift backhands and stomps send them sprawling. Finally they came upon Isabel and Cassandra, and despite the two sisters best effort to fend off the heretics, they were tore away from the shaking Verity and beaten savagely until they stopped moving. Miriya thought they were dead until she saw the shallow rise and fall of their chest.

"Let me go! No!" Verity wailed as two Khornate traitors grabbed her flailing arms and dragged her toward the excited Miriael, "Miriya! Help!"

"Verity!" Miriya pushed herself off the ground, the leap was awkward and sloppy but she managed to wrap her arms around Verity's smaller frame. She snarled at the Khornate traitors like a lioness protecting her cub. "Stay back! Don't you come any closer! Back!"

Fists and knees landed like hail across her body but Miriya held on, absorbing every blow and shielding Verity from all that would do her harm. Gauntleted claws plunged into the shock of Miriya's hair and yanked back hard, she cried out and it only took that minuet loosening of her grip for the heretics to pry Verity from her.

"Miriya!" Verity's harrowing face was the last thing she saw before iron boots and knuckles descended on her. Miriya tried to curl into a ball but the heretics grabbed her limbs, held them firmly apart, and proceed to pummel her unprotected body. She heard a crack when a boot stomped savagely into her side, felt her right arm go limp after a vicious kick, the beating so thorough that not a single part of her body was spared. Darkness was moments away from claiming her when the heretic finally relented, pain dominating all other sensation.

"My dear machine men, would you be so kind as to free the hospitaller's power armor please?" Following Miriael's velvety voice, Miriya willed her body to move. Fighting down the convulsion raking her body, Miriya rolled on to her face, blood poured like river down her torn lips, and gazed up, her vision blurred and danced before finally focusing in time to see Verity thrown into Miriael's waiting arms.

"Let me go!" Verity slammed her fist wildly on Miriael's pauldrons as the heretic groped a handful of her posterior and grinded their bodies together.

"Feisty!" Miriael chuckled. "I always have a soft spot for the energetic ones."

"You will never win! The Emperor is always with me!" Verity got heart, but the brave façade was not fooling anyone.

"Oh yes, I can see that my dear," Miriael lifted Verity off the ground suddenly, twirling and spinning her like a ballroom dance. "You seem to be one of the few who resisted our subtle persuasion. I wonder what make you so special."

"I will never yield!" Verity shouted at her.

"Yield? Oh no my dear, you don't need to yield anything to us," Miriael placed Verity down and gently cupped her face, forcing their eyes to lock. And to Miriya's dismay Verity ceased her fighting. The defiant in her glare grew cold and her arms went slack, entranced by Miriael's soulless, but hauntingly alluring eyes.

"We only want to help you…Verity, was it?" Miriael crooned and traced her thumb along Verity's soft cheek. The heretic spared Miriya a nasty look, relishing her fear and frustration before turning back to Verity. "There are powers that grant enlightenment and ecstasy, a depthless joy that can be yours if you chose to seize it. I can show you that world Verity, be your guide as you let your heart decide."

"A whole new world…" no, no, no! Miriya felt her heart sank as a rapturous smile spread across Verity's face, a sweet innocent wistfulness brought about by Miriael's poisonous guiles. Please Verity, you must remain stalwart against the lies and temptations! You cannot give in!

"Yes my dear, all you have to do is take it," Miriael crooned and tilted Verity's face upward, the traitor's luscious purple lips hovering just an inch above the hospitaller's faded pink own.

"Verity no!" Miriya shouted and Miriael lovingly angled Verity's face so that she would get the best view.

"Enjoy the show sister Miriya…" Miriael's giggling ended when a silvery flash cut her porcelain perfect cheek open. Stunned, Miriael took no notice of Verity as she shouldered out of the embrace, a combat knife trembling in her white gauntleted hands. The heretic remained placid as she ran two fingers across the wound, the touch healing the blemish, red droplets glittering on the tip.

"You've just made me very angry," Miriael's long tongue lapped her digits clean. Gone was the velvety seductress, and in her place was a predator, single-minded and merciless.

"Don't come any closer!" Verity got into a clumsy battle stance, fighting was never one of the girl strong suites, the hospitaller had obviously intended to stab Miriael in the neck but only succeeding in nicking her face.

"Oh, I'll do much more than that," Miriael drew the Agoniser runesword from her belt, the daemonic weapon glowing like molten iron, blasphemous characters dancing across the ebon metal. In a blur, Miriael dashed toward Verity, the Agoniser thrusting for the hospitaller's exposed abdomen. But Verity wasn't impaled. At the last moment Miriael titled the shimmering blade downward, the razor edges tearing into her upper thigh. It was a grazing hit, one that send Verity collapsing to the ground, howling in agony as she clawed desperately at the minuscule wound, the combat knife clattering away from her hand. Sneering, Miriael stabbed Agoniser downward, making another small cut on her left arm, tearing another horrid scream from Verity.

"Please! Please! Make it stop! Please! Arghhh!" Verity thrashed and wailed to the raucous laughter of the gathered heretics.

"This is called an Agoniser for a reason my dear," Miriael ran her gauntleted claws across the flat of the blade, the runes twitched and glowed brighter and a new round of shrieks erupted from Verity. "There are many roads that lead to enlightenment, and you have chosen the most painful one."

Miriael's fingers danced over Agoniser and Verity spasm violently, frothing red spittle dripped through gritted teeth, the pain so overwhelming that she can no longer voice her agony. Now it was Miriya turn to scream, not from pain, no, her cry came from fury, blazing hotter that the depth of the sun. She had sworn to protect Verity, an oath pledged before the soulless body of Lethe Catena, a fellow Celestian and the hospitaller's blood sister who had fallen under her charge. Miriya will not fail again, she will not fail Lethe, she will not fail Verity, and if she must die to fulfill that pledge then so be it. Heat rushed through her vein suddenly, banishing every trace of pain and lethargy, the sensation bears a passing resemblance to a Khornate rage but without the searing corruption. This fire was pure, warm and infinite in power, a repository that Miriya recognized. It was the light of God Emperor himself. The Master of Mankind always comes to the aide of the pious and the faithful, and this time was no different. Her scream of anguish morphing into a roar of purest rage, Miriya swiftly got back on her feet, the holy blessing of the God Emperor nulling the Mechanicus's vile techno sorcery, and sprang at Miriael before any of the heretics can move to intercept. Miriael was still wearing a startled expression when Miriya tackled her to the ground. Agoniser flying free from Miriael's grip, Miriya got on top of the woman and, devoid of any weapon, pummeled the heretic's face with her bare hands.

"Don't! You! Fucking! Dare! Hurt! Her!" Every word puncture by careening fists, Miriya thrashed Miriael's unprotected face. Miriael tried to fight back, but Miriya pressed the assault ferociously, her fists plummeting down faster and harder. An iron clad arm wrapped around her neck suddenly, stopping Miriya from delivering what she knew would be the killing blow, and threw her clear across the hall. Landing roughly on her injured shoulder, pain lancing through the radiance of holy power, Miriya gritted her teeth, got back up and charged the rising Miriael, but Azarvhin materialized in her path. Roaring, Miriya reeled back her arm and threw a haymaker, but Azarvhin easily dodged the decapitating punch and blocked the follow up hook effortlessly. For the heartbeats that follow, Azarvhin danced infuriating out of Miriya's reach, her attacks hurtling through empty air, none came close to touching the heretic. Then Azarvhin held up her palm and caught Miriya's fist with mocking ease, armored fingers wrapping around her shaking knuckles. The heretic squeezed and Miriya cried out in pain. The Emperor's burning flame was gone, the pain returning with such a force that her knees almost gave out.

"Feeling a little weak?" Syrathel strode smugly into view, the spiked crown of her staff emitting tendrils of nauseating eldritch light. She spared Miriya a sneer before turning to Azarvhin. "Finish her."

Before Miriya can react, Azarvhin spun her around and put her in a chokehold. Weakened from the beating and robbed of the Emperor's blessing, Miriya can only claw vainly at Azarvhin's arm as her windpipe was slowly crushed. But she fought, even when the bones and muscles in her neck caved to the point of snapping, even when the blackness of death beckoned, she fought.

"Stop! Let her go!"

Azarvhin released Miriya and she dropped to her hands and knees, warm, precious air flowed into her aching lungs. She was about to take a fourth lungful when Azarvhin seized her by the neck again, hurling her up so that she was standing erected, the grip was firm but not painful yet her battered body protested nonetheless. Miriya was about to start fighting again when Miriael approached her, the bruises and cuts on her snarling face already mended.

"You made quite a mess of me," Miriael wiped the last trace of blood from her violet lips. "You'll regret that."

"I fear no pain from the likes of you," Miriya hissed, uncaring of the tightening arm around her throat.

"You should," Agoniser rose into view, the blade hovering so close that Miriya can feel the foul heat caressing her cheeks, "because it will hurt, greatly."

Instead of letting the sharpened edge kissed her face, Miriael stepped back from Miriya and ran her armored fingers across the glowing surface, the noise it made was unpleasant. The illumination dulled until only the gleam of metal remained, and behind Miriael Verity crumbled in a heap of panting sobs, her body curled into a quivering ball, still cresting the agonizing aftershock. Giving Miriya a toothy, cruel smile, Miriael sheathed Agoniser and strolled toward Verity with easy, carefree gait.

"No!" Miriya tried to dash for Verity but Azarvhin's arms did not yield.

"I was going to save this for you, Miriya," Miriael spared her a nonchalant shrug. "But you had to go and punch me, several times in fact. Now, poor sister Verity will have to suffer."

"Don't touch her! Don't you fucking dare touch her!" Miriael was rightfully unfazed by Miriya's toothless threat.

"A very appropriate choice of word, sister Miriya," Miriael came to stand over the trembling Verity. "Hello Verity, missed me?"

To the resounding mocking hollers of the Khornate and Slaanesh traitors, Verity weakly crawled away from the looming Miriael. Laughing at the display, Miriael allowed Verity a few sporting feet before seizing her by the ankle and dragging her back.

"Speaking from experience my dear Verity, it wouldn't be so bad if you simply let it happen," Miriael straddled Verity's legs and slowly lowered herself on top of the hospitaller's back. "But I truly want to hurt you, so please, feel free to fight and struggle to your heart content."

"No! Please! Don't do this! Please!" Verity's forlorn wailing only elicited greater lust from Miriael, who began grinding her hip against the hospitaller's rear. "Please! I'm…I'm…!"

"Unspoiled! A blessed virgin of the Anathema!" Miriael announced to a boisterous ovation. "I'll be sure to make this memorable then!"

"No!" Verity cried and tried to worm her way out from underneath Miriael. It was a futile effort.

"Let's get rid of this," Miriael tore the mail coif off Verity's head, the blonde locks that spilled forth was quickly snatched up by the traitor. "So beautiful," Miriael wrenched the hair back, Verity crying out as her neck was bent backward painfully. "You are one of the pious few that withstood our persuasion. Such shining light will be a joy to snuff out, a slow guttering death." Miriael slammed Verity face back to the ground, mashing her cheek cruelly against the flat marble, tears mixing with blood. "Trust me Verity, you will not enjoy this."

"No! Miriael please, I'm begging you, don't do this to her!" Miriya yelled hoarsely. "Take me in her place! Let me suffer in her stead, I'll do anything but please! Spare her! Please!"

"And here I thought the two of you were lovers," Miriael crooned and drew her dagger, inverted the grip so that the pommel was held outward, and ran the blunt tip amorously down Verity's spine. "But the bond goes deeper than that, doesn't it? Sisterly, motherly even, something thicker than blood. Must be hard watching her violation, isn't it?"

"Please! Take me! Leave her and take me!" Miriya's roar was breaking into a sob. "Please I beg of you! Please!"

"Last time I heard that, I got thrown out of a window," Syrathel smirked. "Get to it then Miriael, enjoy."

Miriael needed no further prompting. The traitor swiftly placed her knees between Verity's legs and easily pried it apart, her free hand going about its deft task of removing the hospitaller's lower armor, all the while thrusting her hip in a prelude of what was to come. Miriya locked eyes with Verity then, seeing nothing but helplessness and despair, the same emotion that was surely playing across her own face.

"Miriya…" Verity mouthed and weakly stretched her hand toward Miriya, like a sailor's final gesture toward a passing ship as the ocean consumed her.

"Verity," Miriya reached out to her, so near, yet so far, close enough to witness the degradation but too far away to stop it. Tears of deepest anguish streamed down Miriya's cheek as Miriael pushed Verity's armor up her torso. The heretic was positioning the pommel when a steady quake rumbled behind them, drawing all eyes toward the rising commotion. A moment of confusion quickly morphed into grins and triumphant cheers.

"Better disregard all notion of rescue, my dear Sororitas," Syrathel laughed aloud. "I welcome your return colonel Joanna. Now, please show us the trophy of your conquest!"

Out of the corner of her eyes, Miriya saw a row of blue Antebellan Chimeras lining up behind her, nothing but humming engines sounded from the war machines, no voice of greeting rang out in respond to Syrathel. When no reply came, Syrathel tapped her staff impatiently and said:

"Enough with the theatric Joanna, where is his head?!"

Thunderous salvo of bolts answered her, shattering the air above them and slamming into the skitarii's work station, the machine men disappearing in sparks and flames. Azarvhin and Miriael bolted for Syrathel, who had erected a Warp shield to protect her cohorts, while the Khornate and Slaanesh heretics sprinted for cover, leaving the captured Sororitas in the middle of the crossfire. Uncaring of the bolts, Miriya dashed for Verity, catching a brief glimpse of the canonesses falling to the ground in her mad haste.

"Verity!" Miriya threw herself on top of Verity, the hospitaller squirmed weakly but stop when she saw who it was.

"Miriya? Oh Miriya!" Verity sobbed into Miriya's bosom.

"I'm here Verity, I'm here," Miriya held her close as the barrage came to a stop.

"You traitorous bitch!" Syrathel shrieked as she and the heretics retreated to the far end of the hall where a defensive perimeter was being set up. The Tzeentch sorceress was about to begin another tirade when the hatch of the middle Chimera flew open and a figure in black coat and pointed cap emerged to stand on the roof, striking a heroically flamboyant pose and bellowing into the vox caster, his amplified baritone shaking the stone chamber.

"You were expecting Joanna to come and give you the good news?! But it was me, kono Tangmo da!"