AN: I've had this story for a little while in my head, so I decided to write the opening chapter to see how people liked it. I've had a few successful stories (but also several failed ones) so I would appreciate feedback in the form of reviews. If you guys like it, I'll continue it and expand upon it, and if not I'll take it down.

Chapter One Penitence

The inside of the cathedral was dim, with soft light emanating from hidden alcoves and shining radiantly off the solid gold statue off of the Emperor of mankind. His depiction stood tall at the head of the room in front of an army of collection and blessing servitors and a sea of pews. Faint echoes of prayers whispered across the room, only to rebound again in near indecipherable reverence as the lone figure in the room knelt below the idol and offered her worship. A thousand eyes of glass, stone, and precious metals watched on silently from the visages of saints and heroes, protectors and guardians of the Emperor's Imperium. In the early hours of the morning, the cast in an almost ethereal half-light, revealing only the faintest outline of the buttressed room and its holy relics.

The woman saying the Emperor's benediction was down on one knee, head bowed in reverence with the hushed prayer making it past her lips like water flowing gently over rocks in a slow moving stream. Her crimson battle robe fell loosely around her, parting to reveal ebony black armour finished to a glossy shine that gleamed where the faint light touched it. Snow white hair fell over her face in loose strands, partially obscuring the blue fleur de lys on her left cheek below the eye. The prayers came as easily and as quickly to her as breathing. She knew each of them by heart and could recite them in her sleep and she was told that she sometimes did. It didn't take conscious thought to say them, but she thought about them every time she said them. Always trying to understand the words better, trying to find new meaning and new faith in what she said. Over the years she had and the prayers and meanings had increased and meant more to her every time that she said them. Her voice was soft and lyrical, rising and falling as she prayed as if she was singing a hymn, for sometimes she broke her prayers to sing one. Terra on High, Golden Grace, The Emperor's Mercy, Light of the Chosen, all but just a few hymns out of the many that she knew better than her own name. Prayer was about subservience and prostration before he on Terra. He was her lord, her master, her god, and she would serve him till the end of time.

Eyes opened to allow her the small reward of gazing upon the Emperor's benevolent visage as he gazed down on her,emerald green eyes almost hesitant to meet the effigy's own. His eyes were all knowing in his golden visage, benevolent and wise and in his hands point down was a flaming sword wrought in exquisite detail. He was the very epitome of what humanity was and what it should be. Warrior, philosopher, scientist, preacher, father, and God. He was all humanity was and all it could ever hope to be. Even in his deathless state he watched over them and kept his vast empire connected and protected against the predations of the warp, the xeno, the heretic, the mutant, and the psyker witch.

The woman's eyes were bright against her milky white skin and she finished her prayer by touching her head to the cool stone at the statue's feet. In complete and humble subservience. She rose slowly and made the sign of the aquilla as she kneeled before the effigy.

"Ave Imperator, ave Sororitas, ave Imperator," said the woman before she rose to her feet.

Celestine Sister Superior Angeline of the Order of our Matryed Lady of the Adepta Sororitas liked to think that in moments like this the Emperor devoted some of his attention, no matter how minute to her, if only for a moment. She also liked to think that he devoted some of his infinite mercy and withheld his equally infinite wrath and offered clemency for his errant children, for Angeline had failed. She was begging forgiveness from him on high, but was also equally readying herself to face his judgement and lie in the bed that she had made. Steeling herself for what was to come.

She had tried to do the best she could, had tried to bring them all back alive and do her duty. She had tried to bring the witch to justice, and she had tried to keep her blood sister alive. Her best had not been nearly enough and she had failed on all accounts. Her entire squad, dead. Her sister whom she had promised her late father to protect before he had been killed in one of the Imperium's numerous wars was dead. She had been a gentle soul, in the Hospitallier order of the Adepta Sororitas. She hadn't been a warrior, she had been a healer, one to mend wounds not create them. The witch. The vile abomination responsible for countless deaths and destruction on a grand scale had escaped. And on top of it all, Angeline's sacred duty remained undone and unfinished.

Angeline fingered her rosary, feeling the adamantine beads shift under her powered touch, each representing a success or victory or some achievement within the church, and all of them dwarfed by her most important task, and largest failure. She felt each bead and knew what each of them represented by touch alone. The one with a small dent was for her victory over an ork nob in single combat just after her induction into the order. The one that still had a rough edge where the hole had been drilled into it was for her defence and protection of a lord deacon whom had been attacked by heretics. The one that was completely smooth was for her work on Epexes in helping convert the wandering tribes to the Imperial Creed. The one that was more oval was for the protection of a wounded sister when surrounded by heretic forces. Each bead was from a lifetime of service in the Emperor's name. For 19 years she had served as a sororitas and she had accumulated a great deal of recognition in her short time of service and yet it was all dwarfed by her single greatest failure.

Angeline lamented over her failure, but was not so petty as to rail against the Emperor for her failing. This failure was hers and hers alone. The Emperor had given her the tools and the will to do his bidding, she had merely lacked the ability. Penitence and absolution would be a long, hard road to tread upon. For a failure like hers, there could be no forgiveness. For her failure had cost the blood of her comrades, her sisters, the Emperor's faithful, and only blood could pay for blood.

Angeline left the cathedral after retrieving her weapons from one of the blessing servitors after receiving her new purity seal which she attached to her armour with a seal of blood red wax. Her bolter was mag-locked to her thigh, but its receiver was locked open and its magazine slot empty. Her chainsword was affixed in its blessed sheath on her opposite hip, but its chain was bare of any teeth and its machine spirit robbed of life. She was a step away from repentia, and to her shame it was her own weakness of spirit that stopped her from renouncing her rank and life to adopt the shaved head and near suicidal role of a repentia to find atonement. It caused a hollow fear in her to gaze upon them, with their nearly naked attire and shaved heads, purity seals streaming from them like a mock astartes in a festival, and the severe aura of regret and death that clung to them. It was one of the only times that Angeline felt fear.

Angeline feared them, feared falling so far from grace that she would have to renounce all that she was and all that she could be, so she could find forgiveness. What caused Angeline's heart to quicken and her flesh to bead with sweat as she looked upon their emaciated forms was not the horrors done to the flesh, but the hollow eyed reflection of herself that she saw in them. She could imagine herself as any one of them and it terrified her as no enemy ever could. She was loyal, pious, and utterly faithful, but she feared that she would refuse to become a repentia, refuse to become what was necessary and shame herself further. She did not want repentia and had a certain fear that she would fight, curse, and beg not to be one. There were worse fates than repentia, but Angeline just could not even consider the thought of joining their ranks.

Her guards were waiting for her in the night setting glow of the cathedral's outer luminators as she crossed the threshold of the great house of worship. Clad in great Sabbat-Pattern power armour, pitiless blue eyed helms greeted her as walked back into the corridors of the great ship Eternal Praise, and they guided her wordlessly towards her judgement. Their power armoured boots once so reassuring, now so damning and frightening to her. Their powered steps seemed so much louder than her own, so much different than they had a few days ago.

Where had she gone wrong? She had always been faithful, always been steadfast in her devotion. Ever since the age of 11 when she had been chosen as a novitiate for the Adepta Sororitas, she had been one of the most pious and loyal. She was fierce on the battlefield and gentle off of it. She had always tried be an example of everything the sisterhood stood for and when she had fallen short, she had always confessed her sins and spent the night in solitude offering prayers to him on high. Was she just morally weak and only now was it surfacing? Had she only been putting on an act all these years, the peace that she felt merely the satisfaction of maintaining her ruse? No. She had overcome what would have broken lesser women, and she would overcome this. Or she would pay the ultimate price for her failure. Whatever came first and whatever justice the Emperor decided to mete out. She would meet her fate with dignity and grace, or at least not weep like a child when her own doom tolled for her.

When they reached the canoness's chambers, Angeline felt her knees turn to rubber despite herself, but steeled herself as her guards led her into the chambers through the large double doors, the two sisters guarding the entrance as still and silent as statues. Her guards were faithful sisters whom only days ago Angeline had called comrade and sister, but today she called them her wardens and guards, they now called her prisoner. There would be no bargaining with them, no pity, and absolutely no mercy.

The canoness sat behind a great desk of rich wood and marble in her sparse office. A few awards and holy artifacts were scattered about the room amongst the papers and reports, but for the most part it was bare metal. The canoness's snow white hair contrasting sharply with her ebony skin. Faint scars lined her face, no more than razor blade lines of scars fixed by surgery, but having grown bright and shiny with age. She regarded Angeline coolly with deep set and dark eyes that gleamed with intelligence and took in every single aspect about her, stripping her bare before her with but her eyes. Angeline had been allowed one act before her sentencing and she had chosen to spend it at prayer in the greatest cathedral on Eternal Praise alone. Angeline knew that spending her one act of grace in prayer would not buy her leniency, but she had not done it for such. Perhaps it would just show that she was not beyond salvation, that she still wished to serve. Two hours were all that she had been allowed and for two hours she had waited for inspiration from the Emperor.

"Do you know why I have called you here sister superior?" asked canoness Jeanne, her voice gravelly with age, but still vibrant and strong. It almost startled Angeline to hear it, as if the canoness had simply been another devotional statue that had suddenly been given the gift of speech and it was a wonder to watch the marble lips move.

"Yes your grace, and I have come to present myself in both humility and grace," said Angeline, her voice feeling as if it would be strangled at any moment by her constricting throat. She held the need to clear it, but resisted the urge even as she felt her throat feel as if honey was starting to coat it.

"You have failed deeply and you have failed utterly in both your duties as a sororitas and as a servant of the Emperor Sister Superior. You are charged with incompetence of leadership, failure of duty, and gross negligence in service to the Imperium. You have allowed a dangerous criminal to evade capture and not only was this criminal a deviant, but a witchkin and psyker mutant outside the astra telepathica. When confronted with these charges, how do you plead sister? Do you confess or deny your crimes?"

"The evidence speaks for itself your grace, I am guilty of all that you say and have sought forgiveness from the Emperor in prayer and prayed for absolution for my transgressions."

"I need to hear you say it sister."

"Before you and with the Emperor as my judge and witness, I plead guilty to all charges levelled before me your grace. For I am guilty of all you say and wave any right I have to trial or hearing."

"You never had a right to trial and this is your hearing, as well as your sentencing," said the canoness crisply. "Your guilt is already established, this is merely a formality."

"Yes your grace, I...I know, I just thought...never mind."

"No, finish, I wish to hear what you have to say sister. If you have something to say I want you to speak your mind for this is the only chance that you will receive. I do not jest when I say this either, so if there is something that you wish to say, do so, or forever hold your peace."

"Your grace, I wish for a chance to atone for what I have done. I wish for a chance to continue to fight in the Emperor's wars of faith as a Sororitas, as a sister of battle in the Order of our Matyred Lady. I have served long and I know that if given the chance I could atone for my failing. I have many victories to my name and I have never once shown cowardice," said Angeline, her voice becoming stronger and more impassioned the more that she spoke. "For years I have given everything to the sisterhood, everything and never once have I complained or had second thoughts about any of it. I have failed yes, and I have failed greatly, but it is just one failing. One failing amongst many victories. So of you your grace, I beseech you that you give me another chance, the ability to make up for my failure through force of arms. I have always been loyal, and I have always been faithful to this order and to the Emperor," finished Angeline actually gripping the edge of the canonesse's desk.

"Do you think that your devotion and loyalty makes you special sister?" asked Jeanne quietly.

"Well..."

"If your answer is anything but no sister, I will strike you myself and lock you away for the rest of eternity. Many sisters, better women than you could ever hope to be have been condemned to die on far less than this. Women who knew nothing but devotion and faith, and whose record was free of any fault but their one condemnation. While your record is a tapestry of transgressions that have been overlooked by either sympathetic superiors or extenuating circumstances. Insubordination, refusal to follow orders, acting on your own directive, theft of ecclesiarchial equipment, and even murder. True, you were either pardoned or shown to have acted correctly on most accounts, but the fact remains that you went against the church and your superiors. You even went so far as to kill a bishop of the church, sister."

"He was a traitor and a heretic your grace. My actions have been both recognized and sanctified since that day. I did the Imperium a favour ending his life. Traitorous xeno worshipper that he was."

"Be silent!" barked Jeanne. "Did you never once think that he had been acting on order of the church? That he was supposed to be collaborating so that we could lead them to their own downfall? It may have been distasteful, but it is not up to you to decide the policy of the church. Or do you think yourself above the ruling of the church?"

With a start, Angeline understood why the canoness had willed her to speak, nearly demanding it of her. She wanted Angeline to damn herself. To bring up old wounds and reopen them, to redo battles long since won or lost. The canoness wanted her to burn, or at least damn her beyond repentance. Angeline had never liked Jeanne, and the feeling had been mutual to say the least. She respected the canoness for her devotion and past exploits, but she was too rigid, too unchanging and unable to adapt or see past the politics of the church. She didn't understand that sometimes the greatest acts of faith had to be done with haste that did not heed to the protocols that she cherished so dearly. Jeanne was also too harsh with those that simply needed to be shown the way, unable to distinguish between a heretic and those whom had merely lost their way. Not all who did not follow the Emperor were evil, just in need of guidance to show that the Emperor's way was the best way for them. Many called Angeline radical in her views and her greatest critic was her very own canoness.

"The ruling of the church is final and absolute and none are above its judgement," said Angeline weighing her words carefully. "It knows all, sees all, and judges all."

"And what of your previous criticisms of the church's dogma and its orders?"

"They...were ill advised statements that I regret deeply your grace and ones that I wish to atone for in addition to the charges laid before me."

"Sister, I want it to be perfectly clear to you that this time there is no escape from you punishment. No grateful deacon, no sympathetic commander, and no sisters to plead on your behalf. There is no way out of this for you in word or deed. You could present the church with the witch's head right now and you would still be sentenced. So, with that said, do you have anything else to add to your testimony?"

"No your grace, I would merely be wasting my breath."

"Insolent to the last," said Jeanne rising and moving to stand before her. As if by some hidden signal, the two sisters guarding the outside entered and stood behind Angeline.

"For your failing of courage, I strip you of your weapons and sigils," said Canoness Jeanne beginning the right if banishment. The sisters as Angeline's back removed her chainsword and her bolter before they removed her purity seals one by one and marks of triumph. As the canoness leaned in to remove a page of scripture on Angeline's shoulder pauldron she whispered into Angeline's ear.

"If you invoke the oath of repentia, you will still be able to serve and perhaps one day be a sister again." Despite herself, Angeline inhaled sharply at the suggestion, the air almost whistling as it filled her lungs like air going down a metal tube and she felt her heartbeat quicken. "That's what I thought," said the canoness as she removed the scripture.

"For your failure to do your duty, I strip you of your rank," said the canoness removing the icon on her armour that denoted her as a sister superior. "For your failure under the Emperor's gaze I strip you of your awards." With a deft, almost practised move, the canoness snapped the thin chain that held her beads and they pattered off of the floor like adamantine rain, save for one. That hurt the most, nineteen years of blood, sweat, and faith gone just like that. So much time, so much work and it was there rolling across the floor. Angeline was dimly aware that the sisters at her back had been repeating the canoness's words even as she said them, yet it was the canoness's voice that held her in such rapture. "And finally, for your failure of faith, I cast you out from our order and to be known as coward and excommunicatus."

Angeline struggled to keep her conflicting emotions in check as the sisters at her back began removing the pieces of her powered armour, the soft whines of their armour occasionally interrupted with the clicks and clanks of her armour clasps being undone by deft hands and the dull thuds as it struck the floor. They removed her boots as if she were but a beast, lifting her feet and not even allowing her the dignity of removing them herself like she was some kind of horse that needed its feet cleaned. Next they removed her russet robes that she wore beneath her powered armour, the soft sigh of silk on skin filled her ears as they left her bare save for her underclothes, her milk white skin almost unnaturally pale from so long of having worn the armour, almost corpse white below the neck. Faint scars decorated her body, many having been repaired in surgery, but some still remained to mark where a blade had bit her, or a round injured her. Then they stripped her bare of even her underclothes and left her bare before them and then they clad her in rough hewn and coarse garments sweat stained and abrasive. "You are no longer a sororitas Angeline, you will still serve the sisterhood, but as a servant instead of as an equal. We will not speak to you, recognize you, or break bread with you, because for all intents and purposes you are dead to us." With that, Canoness Jeanne dropped the last adamantine bead, the one that marked her as a sororitas to the ground where it bounced once, before rolling away.

After that they beat her to the ground and tied her with chains and iron collar. That was not part of the ritual, but when Angeline's fist had connected with the cannoness's face and removed a tooth, they had been forced to act. They bound her wrists together and then to her iron collar, and then her wrists to ankle restraints so that she was forced to walk hunchbacked and bowed.

"Get her out of my sight," hissed the canoness, wiping at her bloody mouth with the back of her hand. The two sororitas guards led Angeline away who seemed somehow smaller as she was forced to walk away barefoot. Not just in the physical sense of being made shorter and much narrower, but in the sense that she had seemed to have shrunk in on herself, like a child had put on its parents clothes and they hung around them like the borrowed rags they were. So was how it looked to see Angeline be led away in chains, eyes downcast, and all confidence taken from her step. Bowed, broken, and her fire extinguished, Angeline was led away, her fair falling to obscure her blue fleur de lys on her cheek. Former celestine and sister superior Angeline was led away in shame.

Through the halls of the covenants, Angeline half shuffled and was half dragged. Past the training rooms which had consumed her days. Past the shrines and great places of worship that consumed her every waking free moment and fed her fire of faith. She was led past sisters, women whom she had served with for years both on the field of battle and off. Women whom she had broken bread with and shared her most intimate secrets with and her theirs. Now they even refused to look at her, as if she was broken, dirty, faithless. It was almost too much to bear, almost too much to live with.

She was taken through the halls of her youth and past the rooms that had housed her now departed sisters. She was not allowed to take anything from her quarters, it would be taken and burned or given away as charity or picked through by the other sisters like vultures, the same sisters that she would now serve till the end of her days, and beyond when she was finally made into a servitor.

They took her to the very lowest recesses of the ship, the very darkest and the very coldest dankest pits of the ship. This was where they kept those who had committed great crimes and who were to be purified through pain or serve until their dying days. Below even the serf caste that served on the ship to see to the sisters' every need and want. The floor down here was hard and sharp rocks that cut at Angeline's feet and soon there were bloody footprints were she stepped. She refused to cry out in pain, but if her feet were ruined then she would be unable to fulfil her new duties. It seemed that the sororitas had though of that and soon they were on smooth metal again. It hadn't been a very long stretch of floor, just enough to get the point across. You had no power, you were repenting, every step would bring you pain for only through pain could you be purified.

There were lines of scripture written on the walls, all of penance and of pleads for salvation through work and duty. It was dim and gloomy down in the depths of the ship and not just because it was the night cycle. It was like a physical and oppressive weight upon Angeline's soul and she felt the force of it on her. She would live in the dark so that when she did her duties she would see the glory of the light. Angeline was only dimly aware of the reasons behind everything that she saw and heard, having learned about it in detail as a novitiate. All that she felt from the depths of her soul to her heights of fate was the crushing weight of failure and shame. It was all consuming in its intensity and it all still seemed so unreal. The sharp pain in her feet was like a dull ache in comparison. It felt like someone had taken her heart and put it in a vice and taken her stomach and was shaking it. Angeline felt the need to cry, but the tears would not fall, some part of her still refused to let her cry even now.

Her new home had an iron door with a narrow viewing slit that could be opened on the jailors whim. She was unchained and unceremoniously thrown into the bare cell. She landed heavily, but caught herself. The door behind her shut with a resounding clang with the sound of the lock being turned. There was no bed in her new home, no place to rest her head, no creature comforts in the bare cell save a bucket for her needs and a metal bowl filled with water like she was some kind of animal. Angeline felt her despair consume her and yet she still did not cry.

She heard the moans and screams of the others in the cells next to hers. They ranted and raved, the sounds carried by the pipes that travelled through the cells. They didn't carry sound well enough to carry words and they were too far out of reach to tap to send messages. Angeline covered her ears with hands and tried to blot out the sounds of the mad prisoners. It didn't end. She shut her eyes and rocked back and forth, eventually screaming to try and blot out the madness. She didn't know how many days she stayed like that, in the dark, eyes hardly open, barely eating or sleeping. She didn't know how many days it took before she had begun screaming to try and blot out the noise, just that it had already been far too long. It seemed that the sororitas had no use for her after all and were merely content to let her rot. She didn't know what had made her open her eyes and stare at the walls of her cell, just that she was grateful that she did.

Amidst the mad scribbling of prisoners gone insane and fingernail marks that had somehow made marks on the metal walls, was an Imperial Aquilla untouched and unmarred. Her eyes so accustomed to the dark easily able to distinguish it from amongst the lighter coloured metal of her cell. She scrambled to it, like a starving man crawls towards a morsel of food as fast as he is able. Angeline sat back on her heels and simply stared reverently at the aquilla above her. She crossed her hands on her breast and made the sign of the aquilla, mimicking the icon above her.

"I will always be faithful to you, and I will always serve in whatever way you decree. I pray that you give me the strength to see through my new task for I am lacking the strength. I am your sword and your shield, your righteous wrath and infinite mercy. Act through me and if I am found wanting may those better than me take me. Forgive my weakness and fill with your fortitude. For your eternal glory I pray. Ave Imperator, ave Sororitas, ave Imperator" said Angeline solemnly and closed her eyes. A single tear fell then, not out of self pity and shame, but devotion.

"So how is it that I can assist you my lord?" asked the sororitas guide to the inquisitor at her side. The man at her side was dressed in regal clothes of nobility, a forest green jacket with a fur collar covered up fine clothes of fine make and regalia. He wore a hat on his head that had a blue feather stuck in the side and on his legs he wore brown leather knee high riding boots. A stub weapon of fine make and decorated with ivory and filigree fit hung snugly in a holster at his hip. A rapier either mono-edged or power weapon hung on his other hip and swayed slightly as he walked. He was handsome in a roguish kind of way with brown hair and hazel eyes. One corner of his mouth was quirked up as if he had just heard a moderately funny joke and at his back were two retainers dressed in matching black armoured body gloves complete with helmets and masks. They were each equipped with a hell carbine that they currently had slung on their shoulders. They maintained a distance of four paces behind the inquisitor, never more and never less.

"Well, you could say that I'm in the market for some hired help," said the inquisitor the edge of his mouth turning up in even more of a smile. "My current companions are good for shooting down heretics, but I'm afraid that they just aren't much for conversation. Isn't that right men?"

"We are here to serve lord, and do as you command," answered on of the black armoured retainers.

"See what I mean? Completely lacking any kind of personality, though I guess that's too be expected from the kind of cult that they're from. What was it again?" he asked turning his head to the black armoured retainers.

"The Emperor's watch," said the other black armoured retainer.

"Oh, you disapprove sister?" asked the inquisitor seeing the way that the sister's face twitched as they said the name.

"It is not my place to judge lord," said the sororitas.

"No, but you don't like the name do you?"

"That is not my place to say lord."

"You're very well disciplined sister, I admire that in a woman. What would you say to joining an inquisitor's retinue?" The proposal seemed to catch the sister off guard, but she answered neutrally.

"I would wish to stay with the order, but if you decided to invoke your right and forcibly recruit me..."

"Don't worry sister, I don't like recruiting unwilling followers, makes me wonder who they're going to shoot. The enemy, or me. I wouldn't want you putting a bolt round between my shoulder blades because you didn't want to follow me around."

"My lord, I would never even consider doing such a-"

"Relax sister, I was merely exercising my sense of humour, as old and rusty as it is. Problem with getting old I guess, I get a little out of touch."

"I see my lord, the canoness is right this way."

"Eager to be rid of me sister?"

"Of course not lord, I would never do something so base."

"Of course you wouldn't dear," said the inquisitor, the half smile on his lips. "Let's go meet this canoness of yours."

The canoness was seated behind her desk when the inquisitor was shown into her office, his retinue waiting outside, leaving just himself and the canoness in the room. The inquisitor bowed at the waist and removed his hat, before replacing it with a flourish.

"Inquisitor Nyxos of the Ordo Xenos at you disposal madam, and eager to please."

"Well met inquisitor, would you care for a seat?" asked Canoness Jeanne gesturing to an empty plush upholstered chair in front of her desk."

"Why thank you canoness," said Nyxos taking a seat in the chair and setting his feet up on the canoness's desk. He leaned back and put his arms behind his head, the ever present half smile still on his face. "Your hospitality is most appreciated."

"I'm sure it is," said Jeanne dryly. "I see that your reputation precedes you inquisitor, among other things."

"Oh does it? I do hope that it is nice things that people have been saying about me, oft as not they are simply cruel in their accusations. Did you know that some have gone so far as to call me uncouth and rude? I mean really, the gall of some people." The chair creaked as the inquisitor adjusted himself to become more comfortable and he sank deeper into the plush upholstery.

"I can not imagine why," said Jeanne clasping her hands before her and leaning forwards on her desk.

"May I enquire as to the reason that such as illustrious official from the Ordo Xenos has decided to grace my simple convent ship? We have little of value here that would interest an inquisitor, especially of the Ordo Xenos. All we have on this ship is Imperial consecrated tech, human artifacts of the church, and our faith."

"I will admit that you don't really have anything of value on this ship canoness, but unfortunately I happen to find myself short staffed at the moment and in desperate need of new blood. I do not have time to recruit new retinue members as I would normally do. It's really by chance that I happened upon your ship and I was wondering if you would happen to have anyone who would be interested in traipsing around the galaxy with an inquisitor. So, do you have any who would be interested in serving at my side?

The canoness's jaw tightened and her lips pressed into a thin line at the inquisitors words and she took a moment before she answered him.

"You are welcome to ask the sisters, but if you intend to try and recruit any forcibly..."

"Don't worry my dear canoness, I would never dream of taking any of your sisters without your and their consent. Unless I really wanted too of course, I am an inquisitor after all."

"Shall we begin your search then inquisitor?" asked Jeanne rising from her chair, her tone hard. "I would hate to delay your departure to your important task any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Oh, so mean Canoness, and what did I ever do to earn this angry tone from you?" asked Nyxos swinging his feet off the desk and rising into a long stretch, with a grin that threatened to split his face. "I didn't happen to come at the time of red tide did I?"

"You disrespectful piece of-"

Ah, ah, ah, canoness, I'm still an inquisitor remember?"

"Of course, lord. Please forgive my lapse in judgement and good grace. Where would you like to begin your search? If you wish to, I could arrange interviews with the sisters and you could ask them if they would like to join your party."

"As fun as that would be, it really wouldn't be any," said Nyxos dismissively. "I am in need of bulk followers, the kind that I can throw at the enemy in droves and not care if they die or not. I mean, a few to have a polite conversation with would be nice, but I really just need fodder."

"You came to recruit my sisters to send to their deaths?" asked Jeanne, her tone icy and hard.

"Now that's just rude. I mean it's not a foregone conclusion that they're going to die, just very likely," responded Nyxos. "Has something that I've said upset you sister, or are you merely staying silent out of respect?"

"Inquisitor, I believe that I have the perfect recruits for you. You don't care who they are right? So long as they can fight?"

"That's basically right sister, yes. You're not going to pawn off your novitiates on me are you? I mean, I'll take them, but I would much rather prefer full grown recruits if you don't mind.

"Inquisitor Nyxos, let me be the first to tell you that I have never nor will ever offer or try to pawn off any of my novitiates onto you. Now, you said you wanted warm bodies?"

"Are you offering Canoness? I mean it would be indecent to do it here."

"Inquisitor, please follow me. I'll give you all the followers you could ever possibly need," said Jeanne, her smile fake, but unbroken.

"No I don't think you could Canoness. I'm always in need of new followers. They have this entirely nasty habit of dying on me. Now please, lead the way."

The screams, moans, and sobs of the prisoners as they were brought out echoed off of the dark metal walls and floors. Sisters in their black powered armour and red battle cloaks dragged the human wreckage into the hallways for inspection. Some were too sick to stand, others were already on deaths door, but the vast majority, while not in possession of their mind, were still strong of body. Hymns sounded as the prisoners were marched down the corridors, mad gibbering and howls coming from the prisoners as they marched. Men and women who had disgraced themselves or committed a grave act against the church or the Sororitas. Murderers, rapists, vile heathens, the lowest of the low. Now though, they were being given a chance to serve again.

Clad in rough garments of cheap material, their unwashed bodies moved to the beat of the hymns, each step a plodding move that threatened to upset them. They blinked dumbly as their light deprived eyes came into contact with the dim lumo globes set into the ceiling as they were moved into the sentencing chambers. Their automatic response was to mill and wander, but their Sororitas guards beat them back into line and kept them in place through fear and threats, in equal measure with cajoling and faith. Some tried to make an escape and were given forgiveness early, and others just stared at the walls dumbly in front of them. The statues saints looking down with omnipresent judgement upon them. Their diamond eyes all knowing and all seeing.

This room was built of white marble, originally spotless, now marred by the dirty bodies of the prisoners standing in it. The once glistening and waxed marble floor, now covered in dirt, old sweat, human grease, and now blood and bits of human matter. Servitors moved on treads or spindly legs and tried vainly to clean the ever growing mess caused by the mass of humanity in the wide chambers. And moving among the rows, almost with apathetic disregard for his safety, was Inquisitor Nyxos.

"This one looks healthy enough," said Nyxos cupping the jaw of one of the prisoners. He pulled his hand back as the man tried to bite him and then received a strike from a stun baton. After that he stood obediently staring ahead, a line of drool coming out of his mouth." Nyxos sighed.

"We'll have to augment them obviously," said Nyxos offhandedly as they moved among the rows to Canoness Jeanne, Nyxos inspecting them like cattle, lifting up a foot here, checking teeth there. "Fix them with stim injectors and hormone enhancers, along with neural impulse wires to quicken reflex speed. Pain suppressors, muscle growth hormones, and good old fashioned psychic manipulation should make them the ideal fodder. I still can't decide though whether to graft their weapons to them, or simply have them use small arms. There's versatility in having them use regular weapons, but graft weapons can be so much more powerful and of a much higher calibre. Not to mention if I were to replace their eyes with targeting sensors. What's your opinion on this Canaoness?"

"You may do whatever you wish to them once you leave this ship Inquisitor. I have no interest in what happens to them after they leave this ship, or while they are on it for that matter."

"Are you absolutely positive that you don't have any of your sisters that would wish to join me? I mean I appreciate the bulk, but I want the quality too. I do so very much admire the fighting spirit of a sororitas. Their discipline, their devotion, bravery, and their willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause."

"I regretfully inform you that all Sororitas have respectfully and humbly declined your generous offer inquisitor. Though with grace and humility they have expressed their wish for you to succeed in whichever endeavour you take upon yourself and for the Emperor himself to bless you in your quest."

"They did all that in only four three hours Canoness? I must say your sisters are as speedy with their replies as they are with their prayers. I dare say that they could take over for the munitorium and have the Imperium running like clockwork and everything would be just so with its little prayer sticker on the side."

"My sisters are indeed quick in their replies," said Canoness Jeanne. She met Nyxos's eyes and both knew that Jeanne was lying to him and that she hadn't even bothered to pose the question. Still, a few hundred prisoners turned to stim wired killers was never something to turn down, especially when time was of the essence for him.

"I fear that I will have to make due with this then I suppose," said Nyxos running his eyes over another prisoner. "Tell me though, are there any others in your dungeons that you have yet to bring out? Any criminals whose crimes are too great to be brought out or those who have mad you personally angry? I mean I need absolutely every able body that I can get and I wouldn't mind sending them charging off into suicidal odds."

"There are a few left in the dungeons, but they will be brought up in due time Inquisitor. We have only so many sisters with which we can bring them up with. In another hour or two we will have them all up."

"May I go see those still in the dungeons? These lot bore me," said Nyxos, sidestepping a prisoner who had fallen over and was convulsing with a seizure. "Really bore me."

"If you wish we could inspect them," said Jeanne slowly. "But I wouldn't recommend it. It isn't pleasant in the lower reaches of the dungeons. The screams and moans travel far down their so that they may all share in each others pain and suffering so that they may pay for their sins. It is very unpleasant down there."

"My dear sweet Canoness," said Nyxos, his half smile ever present as he cocked his head at her. "I deal exclusively with unpleasant things. Ladies first though, I do believe."

"As you wish Inquisitor," said Jeanne summoning several of her sisters to take them down. "But I would advise you to change you shoes."

"Hm, why?"

"I wouldn't want such nice leather to be ruined, because where we're going, anything less than ceramite gets torn."

True to the Canonesse's words, it was very unpleasant in the lowest reaches of the ship's dungeons. The screams and moans of the anguished travelled far and the only light was that given off by blackout lights, whose glow never reached the cells and made walking through the halls tracherous.

Wet, slippery black metal flooring threatened to take Nyxos's footing from his more than once and the wails coming from the cells were near ear-splitting. Had his heart not turned to stone long ago, Nyxos might have felt pity for these poor human wretches.

As it was though, he strode down the halls purposefully, hands clasped behind his back as he effected the air of a perspective buyer. He looked into a few cells, but for the most part merely kept his pace like he was going for a pleasant evening walk. Not seeming perturbed or bothered in the least by the sounds of human suffering around him.

"Are you sure that this is all you have? These ones are even worse than the ones above us. They're absolutely mad. Great job by the way. I must say that I do admire a job well done, I doubt that I could have managed a better job of it. Using their natural fear of the dark and the unknown. Good on that," said Nyxos with professional approval.

"If you do not find any that you wish to recruit as they are, you may still take them to make into a servitor-soldier," said Canoness Jeanne.

"Oh I fully intend too," said Nyxos curtly. "It's just that I wanted one with some intelligence, not just some damned organic machine to send into the fray. I like ones who can think for themselves, who can improvise, create, adapt, innovate, and actually have some bit of a personality." Nyxos sighed in frustration. "Let's go back up, I'm done here."

"As you wish Inquisitor," said Jeanne politely. "Please follow me inquisitor and watch your step."

"Yes, yes," said Nyxos with a bored expression. Suddenly though, his head jerked up and he cocked an ear. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what Inquisitor?"

"It's not screaming or the wailing that these wretches are doing. No, it's something else," said Nyxos taking off by himself, head twisting both ways at an intersecting hallway before heading off down another black metal corridor. Reluctantly, Jeanne, her sisters, and the Inquisitor's bodyguards followed Nyxos as he took off further into the dungeons, following whatever sound he had heard.

Nyxos twisted his head this way and that, trying to pinpoint the sound. It was different than the wailing and screaming so prevalent. It was melodic, soft, and almost sounded like, singing. The closer he got to the source of the sound, the less sounds of torment he heard, and the clearer the voice became. His leather scuffing against the metal as he came up short and switched directions down a side corridor again. Going deeper into the dungeon where there was not even light from the blackout lumo globes, and Nyxos had to rely on his augmented eyes to see where he was going.

Scriptures of penance and fortitude lined the wall, scrawled in long and flowing High Gothic script. They lined the walls along with the names of those who had found forgiveness and atonement through pain. They numbered in the thousands, stacked from floor to ceiling. Jagged rocks grabbed at the soft leather of his boots, but Nyxos hardly even noticed.

Now it was quiet here, save for that voice. Looking in a few of the cells, Nyxos noticed that the prisoners in them looked oddly...peaceful. They didn't rant or rave, claw at their faces or weep bitterly. If anything they looked happy, listening to the voice that kept singing sweet sounding melodies, soothing the minds of those condemned to rot in the deep holds, and perish in the dark. What crime could one have committed to be sent so far down where only the worst were sent to pay for their sins.

Finally Nyxos came to the door where the singing was coming from. Not having a key, Nyxos took out his powersword and with a flourish, sliced clean through the lock before sheathing his blade and opening the heavy door. He was surprised by what he saw.

In the centre of the room, on her knees and resting on her heels, was a woman. Her hair was getting long and unkempt. Dirty, yet white. The roots were showing through in her hair though, a deep auburn in colour. She smelled as all the prisoners did, unwashed and uncared for, but her emerald green eyes showed not madness, but fervour and devotion. They were fixed straight ahead at the wall in front her her, her hands on her hips. Her soft lips forming the different soothing sounds of the song that she was singing. A blue fleur de lys underneath her left eye showed that she was, or had been a Sororitas. She was beautiful.

Nyxos's usually confident and cocky stride, became subdued and quiet as he approached the singing woman. She took no notice of him, just staring straight at the wall ahead of her. A black aquilla stealing every iota of her attention. Nyxos knelt down next to her and waited for her to notice him. It didn't take long. Slowly the sweet chorus faded and she stared at him, her Emerald gaze unwavering. She looked gaunt and underfed, bruising was prevalent all over her body from beating, yet she still looked strong. A fiery will and strength trapped inside an atrophying body.

"What is your name?" asked Nyxos, brushing a strand of dirty white hair away from her eyes.

"My name is Angeline. Former Sister Superior Elohime of the Celestians. Why have you come here?" asked the woman curiously. No accusation or scorn in her voice, no pleading or begging. Simple willingness to just understand.

"I've come to take you away from here if you wish, I would like you to come with me."

"You want to take me with you?" asked Angeline curiously. Nyxos was lost in her emerald eyes. "Will I be able to serve the Emperor still?"

"As an inquisitor I serve the Emperor directly. If you were to join me, you would serve him more faithfully than any sister on this ship. You could fight in his name, help the faithful and punish the wicked. You would sleep well at night knowing that the Emperor himself smiled on you and your actions. You will bring his faith to the masses of humanity and all will know his glory."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Doesn't it? So please, will you leave this terrible place and serve the Emperor by my side? I formally request that you serve me as a member of the holy ordos and help me to do battle against any and all who would think to rise against the Emperor's might. Do you accept?"

"Yes. Can we leave now? I don't like the dark."

"With me, you'll never have to see the dark again," said Nyxos taking one of her dainty but calloused and muscled hands in his. She made a noise of pain as she tried to stand and Nyxos noticed how badly cut her feet were, weeping a yellowish fluid. He felt a black anger rise in him, but also a fierce kind of protectiveness. "Here, let me help you," said Nyxos putting an arm underneath her knees and behind her back, lifting her up. Her being so close to him set his pulse ablaze in ways in hadn't been in years.

He carried her out into the hall just as the Canoness and his retinue caught up with him. They stopped short of him and the Canoness's mouth set into a hard line.

"You don't want her lord, she's a troubled one."

"I imagine that I would be too after being locked in this place for so long," said Nyxos. "She's the only one I've met with even a shred of sanity left in her. I can only imagine the strength of one that it would take to remain whole while down here."

"She was put down here, because she was broken," said Jeanne.

"Broken, or discarded Canoness? There is a very clear difference Canoness and I can't imagine her ever turning against the light from him on Terra."

"She has had other failings, many failings," said Jeanne. "The most recent of which was the escape of a powerful wych psyker and the loss of her entire squad through incompetence. Even now I have already received reports of him wreaking havoc and death against all those who are unfortunate to fall into his path. You don't even know this woman, how do you know what she's like? What she's done."

"Angeline. Her name is Angeline," said Nyxos firmly.

"Lord, you can't simply pardon one because they have a pretty face. The deaths of her entire squad hang over her head and countless reprimands and disciplinary actions and insubordination. Stop cowering in his arms harlot! You're going straight back to your cage, don't think that you can pretend to be afraid and slink out of here."

"Did you never think that in addition to scarring her body, you scarred her mind as well?" asked Nyxos. "It is an amazing act of bravery to not simply be raving mad and lost all semblance of humanity. I have no doubt that because of this she will always have daemons in her mind, subtle, but they will be there. I am taking her Canoness. If you wish her to repent, she will do so in my service and she will do it with a bolter in her hands and clothed in the finest armour of the Sororitas. By the way, I'll be raiding your armoury for equipment properly befitting a Sororitas that belongs to an Inquisitor's retinue. I sincerely hope that you do not mind."

"She will not leave here," said Jeanne firmly.

"Oh really? Try to stop me," said Nyxos pushing past her, his two silent guards falling into step behind him. His soft leather boots echoed as he walked and as he moved with Angeline, dirty and grimy hands reached out from the bars of the other cells as much as they were able, as if reaching out for Angeline, imploring her to stay. As she passed their cells, the moans and wails began anew as the last light left their presence and they were left in the dark again.

Angeline was once more garbed in her russet robes, but this time she was aboard Inquisitor Nyxos's personal cruiser Herald. The inquisitor had grabbed enough supplies from the sororitas armouries to outfit ten women, having even taken one of the prized power swords that the convent held. Three weeks had already gone by, but it still felt like everything was just a dream. Like she was still trapped in that dark and dank dungeon, offering her prayers to the Emperor for deliverance, before simply singing to while away the time.

Her feet had been infected and been treated my medicae so that she could now walk and run on her own. She could fight too. She had trained relentlessly to get back into proper fighting form and prayed just as much to offer thanks for her salvation. The Emperor had heard her, taken pity upon her, and given her a chance to do great things in his name. It was humbling and it still brought feelings of deep joy and elation to her to think of it. Angeline fingered a rosary of adamantine beads in her hand as she prayed. It was much smaller than hers had been, but even this wasn't hers, it was her sisters. Angeline finished her prayers to the Emperor, not for herself, but for him to watch over her sister and keep her safe in the afterlife.

"Ego pro gloria vestra, ut custodiant te in omnibus nobis, et dimmittet liberos. Quia peccavimus. Deum magnum, Amen," finished Angeline rising from her prayers in her own private cabin. Incense burners sent sweet smelling smoke into her room swirling around the small room and mingling with the soft silken drapes placed around the room and dominating the entire centre of her room was a shrine to the Emperor. A simple stone effigy with an aquilla, wings spread out challengingly behind it. The Emperor looked serene in this depiction, happy and content, but ready for conflict and ready to defend humanity against any threat. Angeline bowed to the statue, before blowing out the candles assembled around it.

Her hair had been redyed a brilliant white and cut to jaw length to fit inside her helmet. She left a couple of candles burning though to provide light. It shamed her to think of it, but she couldn't stand to sleep in the dark. It reminded her too much of her time in the prison and she couldn't bear it. She would become nervous and sweaty until she either got up and moved around or turned on a light. She prayed for deliverance, but the Emperor would aid only those who made an effort to help themselves.

So like a child, Angeline crawled into her bed with the light on to keep the monsters that had found a home in her mind. Her blue fleur de lys facing up as she sought to find sleep, a holy bolter not far from where she lay. A knock at her door caused Angeline to rise and when she opened the door, Inquisitor Nyxos was standing there in simple evening clothes. Black leather shoes and simple black and green pants and shirts. A sword was on his hit, and he wore a hat with only a single short feather in the side.

"Yes my lord?" asked Angeline bowing at the waist.

"I didn't wake you up did I?"

"No lord, I was still awake," answered Angeline. "What do you wish of me?"

"I would like to show you something, would you like to come and see it?"

"Of course, just give me a moment please lord."

"Just Nyxos if you could," said Nyxos kindly.

"Of course Nyxos, I will be out shortly."

"I'll be waiting," said Nyxos stepping out of the room.

Angeline made herself ready quickly, throwing on a pair of boots and making sure that her clothes were clean and befitting a sororitas. Leaving her room, she fell in step beside Nyxos.

"I have been rude to you I think," said Nyxos at length.

"Of course not, you have been nothing but courteous and polite since you took me into your service and I am still grateful for it."

"True, yet I have not told you the purpose of my mission, our mission now. I have simply been expecting you to follow along and do what I have asked without question."

"I have faith, that is all I need. I do not need to know the cause of my mission, simply be pointed and let fly against those who would attempt to impede you."

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to what we're going to be doing?"

"An open mind is like a fortress with its drawbridge down and gates unbarred," said Angeline.

"Platitudes aside, aren't you the least bit curious?"

"I admit that I have wondered, but it was not my place to ask. I thought that if you ever wished to tell me you would do so at a time that you found convenient."

"Well than I guess that this would be that time then, wouldn't it?"

"I believe that it would," agreed Angeline. She followed Nyxos up a lift to the viewing spire and into a room with many couches, a minibar, and a great armoured and shuttered window.

"This is what we've come all this way to deal with," said Nyxos clicking a remote and with a hum of moving machinery, the armoured shutters rolled back, revealing the endless void before them. What Angeline saw took her breath away and made her clutch her aquilla pendant in a mixture of outrage and need for reassurance.

It was a station of xeno origin, for no structure could have been wrought by human hands. Giant spinning concentric rings contained a ball of golden energy. It was too smooth, too inhumanly organic with no weld lines or bolts or rivets. Not even the seamless production of the mechanicus could match such a construction. It looked very much like a giant tuning fork and it was very large. Bigger than even the kilometre long Herald that they now travelled on.

"We found it a few years ago, quite by accident in fact," said Nyxos. "We don't know what powers it, though the mechanicus have said that it's an element that they've never encountered before and gives off great amounts of power for such little amounts. They've discovered that it's like a slingshot, able to send ships through it and impossible distances in a mere heartbeat."

"We should not use it. It is xenos work and we have no idea what it could do or what it could lead back to us."

"No we don't, that's why we have to figure out what's on the other side so that if it's dangerous we can destroy it. Maybe even deal a crippling blow to a xeno empire. There could be a threat on the other side and if there is we need to destroy it."

"Then we should just destroy the station," said Angeline.

"What if this is our only chance to find out if and what kind of foe awaits us on the other side? What if when we destroy this station and they fall upon us when we're unprepared? No, we have to have the upper hand in this."

"What are we going to send through?" asked Angeline.

"Why, we're going to be going through," said Nyxos with his ever present half smile. "We're going through tomorrow, just thought that I owed you enough to let you know. Do you still want to come with me, or are you having second thoughts now?" Angeline breathed deeply and shut her eyes in contemplation.

"If I shrank away from a task simply because I did not like it, I would have make a terrible Sororitas. I will come with you Nyxos and see what lies at the other side of this heathen portal. If we do indeed find something dangerous, I'll crush it beneath my boots and scour it with holy flame."

"That's what I like to hear," said Nyxos, his smile widening.

AN: Well thanks for reading and be sure to drop a review so that I know how I'm doing. Next chapter will be in the Mass Effect verse, I promise.