Her body was already tense. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. “We need to remove it.”
“Quietly,” she said. But it is holy. What she endures is beyond comprehension — and yet utterly human. She didn’t have to. The Emperor’s wrath ignited anew. They beat her. In a universe where saints are carved from trauma and silence, Roxy’s sacrifice echoes as a brutal testament to the Imperium’s creed: **only in death does duty end**. In the halls of the Reclusiam, a mural was painted in her honor. After endless minutes, the pressure shifted. “You carried the future,” he said. What she endures is beyond comprehension — and yet utterly human. A member of the Adepta Sororitas, Roxy once stood tall in power armor, her voice rising in hymn as bolter fire thundered in righteous fury.
