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This is quite a long one. One chapter of the short book I'm comprising.

Vesta Ascendant

Canoness Superior Ultiona Amadea paced up and down the command centre, plans and strategies racing through her head as she tried to think of a way to escape their imminent death and live to fight another day. The Palatine sector was the only home the Order of the Sacred Flame had ever known, but the Tyranid incursion had made saving it an impossible thought. Eurytion had fallen days before, condemning the civilians there to a swift and bloody death at the hands of the aliens. Only Sanctus Lys was left, their most sacred world, but with the xenos swarming all over its surface the 3000 or so Sisters left were cut off from the spaceport they had landed at, only a scant few miles away in agonisingly close reach, but it had been impossible to reach it so far. They had set up a headquarters around the Shrine of the Fiery Heart, a last bastion against the hordes that would soon set upon them.

Just two weeks ago, Ultiona had been a Canoness Preceptor. With the attack on Eurytion came the deaths of Canoness Superior Salestia and her senior staff. Ultiona had fought at that battle; it was she who led the retreat. The memory of Salestia being borne aloft in the monstrous claws of a Carnifex would be imprinted on her mind forever; its scarred talons ripping her apart even as the Sisters fired a massive volley of bolter-shots at it. Her holy blade bit into its carapace as she fought to retrieve her commander, and when it finally succumbed to the Ecclesiarchy’s finest, the Tyranids around it seemed to lose focus and find cover from their bullets. It was that reprieve that allowed her to organise her Sisters for a retreat, and it was made all the worse when the lumbering hulk twitched and began to stand, defying all odds as it recovered from fatal wounds, resuming its bloody attack.

Around her, battle maps were being updated to illustrate the Tyranids’ positions. Trying to calm her thoughts, Ultiona moved to the window, casting a watchful eye over the landscape outside. She could see the Emperor Class battleship that they had used to get to Sanctus Lys over the horizon, sitting idle in the nearby spaceport. Now it was her Order’s only means of escape from this Throne-forsaken system, but they had no way of reaching it without martyring themselves in the attempt. The Hivefleet that flooded the interplanetary space in the system was stretched thin across the worlds that the Order of the Sacred Flame had sworn to protect as it digested all life. A perfect opportunity to escape, if only they could reach the ships.

As she surveyed the land, her vox transmitter flared into life, a multitude of voices all attempting to shout over each other in alarmed tones. Ultiona picked up what she could from the fragmented speech, something about the Shrine of the Fiery Heart being opened.

+This is Canoness Superior Ultiona. Someone tell me what in the name of the Emperor is going on!+ There was dead silence on the vox-net, until one voice spoke, her trusted adviser Ancilla.
+Milady, there has been an… incident. A Terran-hour ago, a Seraphim Superior flew away from the barracks without explanation. All attempts to speak with her have been met with silence and a few minutes ago she reached the Shrine. She has since descended as we could not reach her in time, her jump-pack seemed fuelled by the Emperor himself.+ Ultiona’s mind clouded with rage. Of all the times for something so blasphemous to occur, it had to be when they were struggling as it is. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched the haft of her weapon angrily. +I will attend the situation personally. Ancilla, gather your squad and meet me outside the Shrine. May the Emperor protect.+

+And may we strike as His sword. Understood, Canoness.+ Ultiona’s vox-bead died, and she paced out of the command centre, every assembled Sisters’ eyes following her. Daughters of the Emperor walked worriedly through the corridors, checking the sights of their Bolters, knowing that their weapons would see use before long. As she pushed open the doors to the outside of the hub, Ultiona tried to avoid looking up, instead pacing quickly towards the headquarters of her companion-order, the Order of the Cleansing Tears. Her fear of the sky was well-founded; the heavens were no longer their usual deep blue but rather a swirling maelstrom of violent oranges and acidic greens. The same sight could be seen on all the worlds in the Palatine Sector as the Bio-Ships of the Tyranid Hive Fleet sucked the planets dry, making them devoid of life. Spore chimneys ascended into the sky, spewing organic matter into orbit, and vast tentacles reached down through the atmosphere to assimilate the biomass of the small world.

Striding towards the medi-tents, Ultiona welcomed the distraction from the quandary facing the two orders. With something new to focus her mind on, she could avoid facing the reality of their almost certain destruction. As she breezed through the tents, Sisters of both orders curtsied politely, with more than a little awe. There wasn’t a Sister on this planet that hadn’t heard of her reputation and her feats, and Ultiona used this to her advantage. She doubted that her fellow Daughters of the Emperor would have rallied behind her so readily when she retreated from Eurytion had they not known the stories of her standing against tides of Khorne Berserkers and felling over a score before falling, only to be resurrected by the arcane technologies of the Hospitaller.
As she brushed through the cloth partitions of the tent’s opening, the scene that greeted her was grim indeed. A myriad number of her Sisters of Battle were hooked to esoteric machineries, their purpose unfathomable to her, as the Sisters Hospitaller administered care with flawless skill. Scanning the room, the commander headed directly towards her fellow Canoness Superior, Medea Valentina of the Cleansing Tears.

“Hail, Sister!” Ultiona said loudly. Medea looked up from the patient she was working on, silently acknowledging Ultiona’s presence. Nodding to another medic, she retracted the medical equipment on her gloves with a flick of the wrist and moved away from the groaning Sister.
“Hail. I trust you bring important news.” It wasn’t a question. Medea despised interruptions in her work, and knew that Ultiona would not have disturbed her lest something was very wrong.
“Have you not listened to the Vox? The Shrine of the Fiery Heart has been opened and a Seraphim of mine order has descended within.”
“Then you should discipline your Sisters better, Canoness,” Medea’s voice dripped with sarcasm on the honorific. “I assume my presence is required to witness this?”
Ultiona clenched her jaw in frustration. She knew that Medea’s frosty attitude was not meant spitefully towards her, but it did nothing to help the situation. “As Canoness Superior of your order, I think it only appropriate that you attend this disturbance. I cannot fathom why the Shrine would be opened now, of all times, and I know not if it is for good or ill.”
Medea’s eyes flashed with faint irritation, but she nodded calmly and paced towards the medi-tent’s exit without a second glance.

*****

Ancilla scanned the landscape through the sights of her Combi-Bolter, her Fury. The rest of her elite squad, Ultiona’s Aegis, had their weapons trained on the horizon, watching intently for any enemy movement. Vast bio-titans could be seen miles away, wading through forests and knocking down the vast trees native to the planet, ready to be taken to digestion pools by lesser monstrosities. The Aegis had been tasked with guarding the entrance to the Shrine after it was opened, in the fear that Rippers or Raveners could come pouring out and taking the Order by surprise. So far, this concern was unfounded, but the Aegis remained vigilant for Tyranid incursions.

As Ultiona and Medea walked rapidly towards the Shrine, Ancilla lowered her Boltgun and saluted her superior reverently. “Well met, Canoness.”
Ultiona smiled at her old friend. “Well met, Ancilla. Any xeno activity?”
Ancilla shook her head but remained in a defensive stance, constantly alert for any danger that might befall her commander. “None so far, Canoness, and with the Emperor’s blessing it will remain so. Do you wish my squad to explore the catacombs? Our bolters are eager to roar the words of the Emperor at our enemies.”
“Negative, Ancilla,” Ultiona said swiftly. “We know not what lies beneath the surface, it has been millennia since it was last opened.”
“With respect, milady, would that not be all the more reason to explore below? To cleanse the sacred site of any impurities that may lurk within?” So impatient, Ultiona thought. Ancilla had a reputation for being hot-headed when it came to battle, always propelling her unit of Celestians into the heart of battle, using their skill with both bolter and blade to dispatch the enemies of the Immortal God-Emperor. However, in this situation she could be right.

“Very well, Ancilla. Gather the Aegis and join with me, we shall reconnoitre together.” Ancilla nodded, her eyes alight with the fire of war. But just as she signalled to her squad to form up behind her, a deep rumble emanated from deep beneath the shrine. The Celestians all adopted defensive positions instinctively, enclosing their Canoness within a protective ring. Ultiona drew the Blade of Purity from its scabbard on her hip, intoning the litany of the Emperor’s Light. As she spoke, all her doubts and fears fell away from her mind, and she could see the same steely resolve in her Aegis as well. A deafening crack resounded through the air, and the sound of stone tumbling to the floor echoed from the Shrine. A blinding golden light shone from the resplendent entrance, bright enough to dispel every shadow for what must have been thousands of yards, and an angel appeared.

Gliding from the doorway in golden armour and wielding a fiery sword, borne aloft by ethereal wings, was a Battle Sister. Ultiona vaguely recognised her face to be Vesta, a Seraphim Superior of her Order, and evidently the one that had opened the crypt. Humbled by this divine guardian’s presence, Ultiona fell to her knees, not daring to look her in the eye. Her squad did likewise; even Medea kneeling before this celestial being. As Ultiona bowed before Vesta, she could feel fingers gently caress her cheek. Vesta’s skin was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so, and the hand softly urged her head upwards, making eye contact with the angel. As she gazed into the deva’s crystal-blue depths, Ultiona felt tears fall unbidden down her face, overwhelmed as she was by the presence of this avatar of the Emperor. Vesta smiled gently, radiating love from every pore of her body.

“Please accept my forgiveness,” Ultiona was startled. The voice resounded within her head and Vesta’s lips did not move from the tender smile on her face. “I did not mean to cause panic. I felt the Emperor touch my soul, and felt called to this place. I am not Celestine, nor do I wish to despoil her memory. I am here to bring salvation to the Adepta Sororitas and vanquish the adversaries of the God-Emperor of Mankind.” Behind the calm and affectionate exterior, Ultiona could sense unwavering strength in the beatific figure. With a shiver, Ultiona knew that this same woman – Although woman seemed inappropriate now – would be capable of executing a hundred hundred heretics with the same expression of tranquillity that she wore now.
Vesta withdrew her touch from Ultiona’s face, and the Canoness felt like a part of her soul perished with the loss. Ascending on her diaphanous wings, she soared into the sky, hovering above the assembled warriors like a new star in the heavens. Vesta sheathed the Ardent Blade on her hip and faced towards the command centre of the Sisters, her arms held open in a gesture of almost motherly affection. Her voice boomed throughout the minds of the Adepta Sororitas, each one feeling serene with her psychic presence.

“My Sisters! The xenos’ onslaught has punished us severely, and we have taken heavy losses. But I, Vesta, declare no more! No more shall we simply defend ourselves and retreat. No more shall we lick our wounds until their next attack. No more shall we lose this war! Feel my strength, Sisters, and take heart, for we can annihilate this enemy! We are the Emperor’s chosen, we are his daughters! We shall forge a path to the shipyards, and we will fight elsewhere, on our own terms. And we will win, Sisters. So say I, so says the Emperor, and so will say history! A morte perpetua!”
The answering cry tore from the throats of every Sister in the camps, bloodlust and vengeance in their call. “Domine, libra nos!” Vesta drew her blade again and held it aloft, hilt grasped in both hands, her face the picture of exalted passion.

“Now go, fellow Sisters, ready your weapons and pray for victory, for today, we are Sororitas triumphant!”