Katherine stood alone in the chilly chamber, holding a robe of scarlet closed with her hand. The robe belonged to a Hospitaller, who had lent the habit to the Mother Superior. Having evacuated the Convent in such a hurry, the few remaining Adeptus Sororitas had no clothing other than their Vestments pattern armor. Katherine's was lying nearby, clam shells splayed open, red-gold ceramite splattered with blood and gore. Looking at it there, the image of its former owner, Saint Magdalena sprang into her mind, laying face-down in a pool of her own blood…
She shook her head to clear the grisly image and crossed the room to the Spartan bed. The dormitory room once belonged to an Arbitrator officer, simply furnished but private. The other sisters were nearby in barracks-styled rooms. Katherine had originally wished to stay in there with the other sisters, but the Hospitallers and Harodiah insisted she should get some rest. The Hospitallers has splinted her broken left arm and injected her with a variety of drugs designed to increase her healing. The arm would be good in a few days…
Running her fingers through her hair, the Mother Superior paced back and forth like a caged tiger. Deep inside the keep, she could not hear the screams and taunts of the Dark Eldar outside. There was only the quiet stillness of circulated air and low drone of activity. The quiet was oppressive…like the stillness of the grave. She could hear the throbbing of her pulse as a dull roar in her ears. It was a vertiginous feeling, like the air was too thick…like breathing vapor and wading through mist. It felt like the atmosphere had too much pressure, weighing down on her.
Then suddenly she heard the handful of Sororitas in the barracks outside raise their voices in song. It was a low, maudlin tune…a lament for the fallen. Bittersweet, it celebrated their martyrdom and their ascension to the side of the God-Emperor, while sorrowful for those friends lost in life. Unbidden, her eyes burned as they filled with tears. The first sob hit her like a punch to the gut, then they followed in rapid succession as the tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Katherine staggered over to her Vestments, placing her hands on their reassuring bulk. Images of those dear to her lost in this horrible campaign passed through her mind's eye….Rachel had been so trusted Katherine had made her the Palatine in charge of the training of the next generation of Sororitas. Dinah…her loyal bodyguard…always the voice of orthodox reason. Eve…her closest friend with a zest for life and a surprising sense of humor.
All gone now…martyred.
And her beloved, trusted friend Rebecca…seduced to the service of Chaos…
Why Emperor…why? She choked on her own sobs. Why do the apathetic and even the wicked live while we the devout sacrifice ourselves? Billions of men and women…many impious and decadent and selfish…live out their tiny, petty lives while those most worthy of life, and the Emperor's love, are sacrificed. We fight and we die so an uncaring populace can continue on thinly veiled sin. Why must it be so!?
She knew the answer of course…it had been drilled into her from the first day she had arrived at the convent…at the tender age of six. It was the price of the survival of the human race. The lives of the courageous and pious were the mortar that bound the bricks of civilization together. Katherine pressed her palms against her temples, rubbing away the headache that was blossoming in her skull.I must not despair! I must not question what I know is the truth! Faith is not easy…it is a continual test…a forge in which the soul is tempered. I have felt the Emperor's will working through me. I have felt him grace me with his gaze and protect me with his hand. I must not allow a moment of weakness overcome me!
Drawing a shuddering breath, she cursed herself for even so short a lapse in her faith. To question the Emperor and his doctrine for even a second! She was only mortal, of course…human and thus flawed. The struggle to remain pure was eternal, and of the utmost importance. Purity came through denial…and pain. Gritting her teeth so tight it shot white-hot pain through her gums and caused phosphenes to blossom in the back of her eyes, she clamped down on the heartbreak. Her fingers fumbled through the packs at the belt of her armor until she found what she sought. With trembling hands she withdrew the Penance Cord, her thumbs rubbing the well-worn handle of ivory. The cord itself was formed from thin strips of suede leather, wound and braided into a lash.
