The body of Mother Superior Magdalena lay naked on the cold steel of the examination table. Tradition would normally dictate preparing the body of a Cannones in a consecrated temple, but the table in a dilapidated infirmary was the best that was available in the ruins of Point Phobos. Sister Harodiah was gently rubbing sanctified ointments on Magdalena's shoulders, working the oil in her skin to properly preserve the flesh of the Cannoness. Forevermore, her place would be the Order's tomb on Necromunda.
Something caught the corner of Harodiah's eye, and she turned to look at the Cannoness' abdomen. The grievous wound where she had been impaled by the Tzeentch Sorcerer's Dark Blade was beginning to seep blood. Harodiah reached over quickly to dab at the blood, but it began to flow faster. Rather than drip down her pale flesh, the blood "fell" upward to splatter on the ceiling. The water and oils she had been washing Magdalena's body with began to run, also "falling upward" to pool on the ceiling.
Then, Magdalena's eyes shot opened and she gasped. Her skin was luminescent, emitting a warm golden glow as though lit from within. She rose to a sitting position, the blood from her ghastly wound flowing up her body, between her breasts, and up her neck. It began dripping along the back of her jaw and from there to the ceiling. She opened her mouth and ghostly voice emerged, "Per volantatis Imperator, abnegatus lux lucis ego sum . Meus officium in suus opo non perfectus est." ("By the Emperor's will, I am denied the light. My part in his work is not done") Her eyes were opened wide, fixed forward sightlessly. Slowly her gaze turned to Harodiah, "My Vestments, child. Fetch them." The blood began to flow up her face as she spoke…
Shocked, Harodiah stumbled to the corner of the room where the Canoness' suit of power-armor had been lain. Obeying the appropriate rituals, she prepared the ancient armor, handed down from Canoness to Canoness for many generations. The front armor plate was cracked, with a great fissure over the abdomen where the Dark Blade had pierced. The back armor was splayed outward where the sword had emerged. Magdalena's blood was splattered all over the suit.
Magdalena slowly swung her legs over the table and stood, the blood still flowing upwards in defiance of gravity. She walked across the room as though in a trance. "The patron of our Order, Saint Celestine herself came to me in a dream. She told me that there is still much to do." She closed her gleaming eyes, "Quod Imperator venia lucebit super pius martyr, quod illi ambulabit interim inter suus vernulae. Illi perficebit suus opus ut illi perficebat in vita…Sanctus Vivus…'(And the Emperor's grace shall shine down upon the pious martyrs, and they shall walk again among his servants. They shall do his work as they had in life…Living Saints…")
Her eyes remained closed as she slipped into the power-armor. The blood ceased to flow up her face, locked now inside the armor. Before Harodiah's eyes, the golden hue of the armor began to change. Starting with the abdomen, as though the blood was seeping through cloth, the gold became stained with a crimson tint. It spread across the entire surface of the Vestments, creating a glorious metallic red-gold. Miraculously, the armor began to heal itself, closing up where the blade had penetrated it. Within moments, it had sealed itself, as if just forged. "Never again shall my Vestments leave my body. Until the Emperor calls me home, this is my skin. My blood flows through the hydraulics that give my vestments motion. My heart and spirit power it as though it was my own body…"
The glow faded, and Magdalena appeared once again as she had in life, her skin fair and unblemished, save the blood that had begun to dry upon her face. Her eyes met those of her Sister Hospitaller, "Bring me the Dark Blade…"
Dutifully, Harodiah left the room and returned with a long box made of bronze. Over its entire surface were scrawled intricate symbols, Hexagrammic Wards that could bind the powers of the Warp. So long as the Dark Blade was contained within, it could not reach out beyond with its fell powers. Else, it would take possession of someone's mind and control their body to wreak havoc.
The box opened, the brass hinges creaking. Inside, the Dark Blade lay, its surface an ominous black, as though absorbing the light around it. Magdalena reached out without hesitation and grasped the hilt, feeling a sudden shock through her entire being as she did so. The Cannoness lifted the blade from the box and held it before her. The oily blackness of the blade began to swim and swirl, as though something had been aroused within it…for something indeed had been…
…The Daemon bound within the Dark Blade.
The Canoness whispered, "Harodiah..leave child, quickly." The hospitaller swallowed and scampered from the room.
First it struck at her mind, hurling its considerable psychic power at her. Her hair flew back as if she had been struck by a tempestuous wind, the blood blown from her face and splattering against the far wall. Magdalena squeezed her eyes shut and grasped the hilt with her other hand, the blade's awesome psychic power railing against her.
Suddenly it was silent and the blast of power was gone. She could feel the hilt of the blade throbbing as though it had a pulse, some dark ichor coursing through it. "Magdalena…" She heard its seductive whisper in her mind. "I can only be wielded by the strongest of will. You, Magdalena…you have the power."
The Cannoness was silent, with her face at peace. The voice continued, "I am yours, Magdalena. You have earned the right to wield me. Use me. Use my power. Together, we can cleanse all that is unholy, all that is false. Together, we are unstoppable."In her mind, she could see herself striding before a vast army of Sisters, all staring at her in adoration. Before them, twisted mutants, horrific daemons, impious traitors, unrepentant psychers, and decadent Eldar fell in wailing agony. She shone like a beacon of purity, searing them with the light of her faith, in her hand the black blade. "I am your servant, Chosen of the Emperor."
She opened her eyes and looked deep into the swirling darkness of the blade, "You cannot tempt me, Xaphanbelphagor. Yes, Daemon, I know your true name. You cannot seduce me into doing evil in the name of good, for that is what using the devices of the enemy is."
The Daemon roared in anger, causing the walls to shake with the reverberation. The blade warped and wracked with spasms, writhing in her hands to escape her clutches. Magdalena grit her teeth as her hands clenched, white-knuckled on the hilt. The sword twisted itself into impossible shapes, curling back to strike at her forearms and wrists. She ignored the blood flowing over her hands, making the hilt slick, squirming and threatening to free itself from her.
The muscles in her jaw tensed as her forearms screamed with the strain and the lacerations across her flesh. Through her clenched teeth, she whispered, "You lose, Daemon."
The glass around the room shattered a the Dark Blade wailed in so high a pitch, Magdalena's ears began to bleed. An immense wave of pressure pulsed out from the sword, throwing everything in the room against the walls. The Daemon's screech reached an ear-splitting crescendo, as it began to fold inward upon itself. The blackness drained from the blade, flowing down to a single point. As the unearthly scream faded away, the black dot vanished, the Daemon hurled back into the Warp. The blade, now a brilliant, lustrous silver, burst into flames.
The door slammed open as Mother Agnes and Sister Rhoda charged into the room, their weapons at the ready. They froze with their mouths agape, staring at their Mother Superior, standing before them in her red-gold armor with a sword of leaping flame in her hand. Magdalena opened her eyes, her blood dripping from her hands onto the floor, "Agnes, Rhoda, prepare the sisters…this battle is not yet over…"
