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It seeks truth in suffering, and meaning in what one woman gave, when no one else could. “You carried it, child.”

Roxy said nothing. Roxy volunteered without hesitation. Caelen caught the capsule, cradling it like a relic. No armor. Stripped of weapons, armor, and all outward signs of sanctity, Roxy became a living vessel. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. The belt cut into her mouth as her jaw clenched. Roxy volunteered without hesitation. Spat on her. Roxy lay still, drenched in sweat, her face contorted in silent pain. One eye was swollen shut. “They will hear us.”

There was no time. They never suspected that deep within her, past layers of bruised and trembling muscle, pulsed the one thing that could awaken a Space Marine’s broken armor and turn him into a weapon again.